#such as the dmv being quite boring now

[mothprincess]

wish me luck at the car repair shop tmrw! i don't generally like them because i feel like i know too little about cars and don't want to look stupid. i can't avoid this and am confronting it head-on. is anyone completely unbothered by repair shops?? u either know everything or you don't care? i'd like to be the latter... or former. i seem to do well when i just wander in somewhere and don't give a fuck -- i will be helped, regardless. every time i go somewhere and have no fucking idea what i'm doing, it works out alright.

[cyberneticlagomorph]

Ok so Zeb's in a cage, Jack was/is being crushed by the physical embodiment of bureaucracy, Null took their mask off, the judge is already bored and we've still got half a pie left...

The straps of the muzzle bite into your skin and strain against the rest of your skull, bringing back the headache you've been fighting off for hours now. The holding cage is small, smaller than the one they've confined Zeb to, so your only choice is to remain in animal form for the time being or be stuck in some horrible position for god only knows how long.

The paper judge has your sword, hung at an awkward angle on the wall... curtain... empty air(??) behind them where you can't get at it.

You're tired, exhaustion seeping into your skeleton and nesting there, pulling the rest of your body down towards the edges of sleep.

You feel like this trial has gone on for days and days, even though it's only been a few hours now.

The Bureaukrat lays curled around the bench, head resting on its massive inky claws, eyes firmly fixed on you. Streams of ink-smoke curl from its nose and the gaps between its horrible teeth, pouring into your cage through the spaces between the bars. It smells like cold and liminal waiting rooms and the deep disapproval of DMV clerks waiting for you to cough up the right paperwork.

There is a pixie on the witness stand, made visible by a large arrangement of magnifying glasses held in place by more of the judge's disembodied hands, and you wonder for a brief moment if the judge is the paper or the hands or if they're both the same entity but you're muzzled so it's not like you can really ask.

The pixie is pink and white and spidery, his name is Pipsqueak and he's lived in your house for his entire life which is probably why he looks so much like your husband, since pixies take on the shape of the very first thing they see as larvae.

Pipsqueak makes several urgent beeping and jingling noises, flailing all 6 of his arms for emphasis and pointing at Zeb every now and again.

You don't speak pixie, you barely speak coherent english on most days but you get the gist of what Pipsqueak is trying to say.

"Dis kid saw me n' his first reaction was ta trow holy water at me! Das like peppa sprayin' a mouse! I didn't even do nuffin to him... yet... bet he'd look real nice wit a new haircut." Pipsqueak flexes 6 sets of fingers menacingly, many eyes narrowed with malice. "But I wouldn't kill him or nuffin, that'd make my boss sad n I don't like when my boss is sad."

The judge nods in understanding, using one of their hands to lift Pipsqueak off the stand so they can usher in the next witness.

You've lost count of how many testimonies you've heard so far, some lobbying for the death of Zebede on principal, some for the fun of a good execution or Just Because.

More people than you expected advocate for letting Zeb live, though for entirely selfish reason, their ideas for his final punishment range from indentured servitude to turning him into a fairy for a certain time frame to straight up giving him to Peter Pan which you're very sure is a violation of the Geneva Convention.

Your friend Gehr'Hedra Soljrkenne, Hunter-King of Virkara, The Third Burning Star, [Our Eclipse Presence, God Of Desperation], the Paleblood Royal, Inheritor of madness, etc ad nauseam who has known you since you were a half formed Concept clinging to empty pages said: "Mercy spits in the face of their existence- adoration proves they have no grasp here. Let him live, and grow to adore Us. A fitting punishment for a weapon is always to make it your own, is it not? The feelings may be savored that way, and executions are so short, so boring." and that seemed to swing quite a few people around to your side of things.

The judge called for a lunch break halfway through the testimony of a very agitated looking Dwarf Lord who had been on duty when Zeb damaged Fairyland's core, and the Bureaukrat let you out of your cage and muzzle for the occasion.

Lunch was laid out in the theater's lobby, with long banquet tables groaning with food snaking down the middle of the space. You were still a little too stressed to have an appetite, but Null refused to let you just not eat. You watched your alchemist disappear in a cloud of faintly glowing vapor only to reappear with a plate loaded with goodies.

A grilled sunflower head dripping with melted butter and spices, split moon-bones with bubbly roasted marrow, a tankard of whisper wine, chunks of dark bread, and a slab of bloody meat that flinched when you bit into it. Null didn't move until you'd finished the entire plate.

You felt better after eating and that pissed you off for some reason.

Your mom crushed you in a hug the first moment she got, the snout of her hyena head nestled deep between your ears, Bud, Lou and Brucie pressing up against the both of you the whole time. She'd crashed onto the stage the second the muzzle had come out and tore quite a few pages off of the Bureaukrat in the following scuffle, a big black ink stain spread across her face and chest where the beast's claws had grazed her. The rest of your family had hopped down from the balcony in a similar fashion and many of them had also been muzzled and restrained, their weapons confiscated by judge and bailiff.

Egg was still in a cage, she kept pulling knives out of random places and stabbing anybody and everybody that got close, as was her custom. You fed her strips of raw meat through the bars of her cage, and ignored how many times she bit you on purpose.

The trial was drawing to a close, the judge's patience wearing thin as boredom crept in on its scaly belly. Your family loaded themselves back into their balcony, eyes bright with rage and worry.

A tall dark figure with the head of a jackal slowly ambled onto the stage. Dressed in a smart dark suit with accents of gold, the great god Anpu (Anubis) gazed at the angry little boy in the golden cage. Ammit, Devoureress of the Dead, sat on her great hippo haunches beside him and bared her crocodile teeth greedily.

Zeb clung to the bars of his cage and glared at Anpu, as if daring the god to come closer, to get within striking range.

Anpu's muzzle crinkled in what might have been a smile. He opened the boy's cage without touching it.

Zeb bolted, only to run smack into the sharp-toothed meat wall that was Ammut.

"Foolish boy." Said Ammut, licking her teeth. "None may escape Death."

Zeb threw a fireball at the monster, which she swallowed whole like a particularly spicy dumpling. You weren't sure if the sound coming out of Ammut was meant to be a growl or a laugh or some horrid combination of both but it made your stomach twist and your hearts nearly stop.

Anpu placed his warm brown hand on Ammut's snout, "Enough." His voice... his voice was endlessly Old and deep, the mournful howling of wind whistling through a tomb, the whisper of funeral incense, the whine of a thousand canines trudging though hot sands beneath the gaze of the burning sun.

Anpu bade Zeb to stand, and the boy refused to obey. Crouched against the wood of the stage with eyes burning burning burning, his hands wreathed in flickering flames and the shreds of divinity that clung to him like a parasite.

The god's muzzle crinkled again in that strange not-smile and he held up his hands to show that he meant no harm. "I think you and I would be friends in another life, perhaps I will usher you to that new life myself some day if your gods hesitate to claim you."

Zeb didn't move, the flames of his anger burning just that much brighter. "Don't I get to say anything about this? Don't I get to stand up for myself?." He's shaking. "I fucked up, I admit that, I fucked up and now I'm here and now you all want to kill me and that's fair but I don't wanna die."

"Nobody want to die--"

"Shut up I'm not done." Zeb stands up, still glaring, still burning, he points first at Anpu (who he silenced) and then at the judge. "The Knights made you like they made me, so why are you acting like this?"

The judge grins, threads of ink and scraps of wood from their chewed up gavel falling from their teeth. "Just because the Knights made me, doesn't mean I like them or want to do what they say, they left me in charge of a bunch of monster and expected me to behave afterwords... I'm sure you know how that feels."

"You're the Dictates of Preservation, you're supposed to PRESERVE human life, not end it."

The judge, the Dictates, just shrugs. "And you're supposed to kill fairies and witches and demons and anybody else who poses a danger to the Veil, but it looks like we both failed in our quests, little brother."

Zeb scowls, hands balling into fists at his sides. "I don't want to kill anymore, I don't WANT to be a Knight, they left me here to die without a second thought and I don't wanna be like that anymore."

"You're always going to be like that kid, it's woven into your soul and it's never gonna go away." The judge looks sad and manic all at once, like being here and saying this physically hurts. "You can take the boy out of the church, but the church has to be taken out of the boy like shrapnel. One bloody piece at a time..."

"I'm..." Zeb swallows, the fire in his hands weakening, dimming, dying ever so slightly as he fights back tears. "I'm not gonna be like that forever."

But he sounds so unsure of himself.

Anpu clears his through, half forgotten during the conversation. A spotlight spills around him. "Might I make a suggestion?"

The judge tilts their head but doesn't speak, twirling one paper curl of hair around their finger.

"His heart has been weighed and measured by his words," The god nods at Zeb almost proudly. "Though he is guilty of these crimes, and the stains upon his flesh show that Guilt has nested deep in his soul, I find him to be Good and True."

Zeb tugs the sleeves of his shirt further down over his gloves, cheeks heating with embarrassment, Anpu not-smiles at him again with a knowing gleam deep in the god's eyes.

"Death would be too boring like the elf king said, so might I suggest he be sentenced to community service?" The jackal god tilts his head, almost cutely. "He's terrified of you lot, so think about how funny it would be if you all forced him to help you with something for days on end."

"...yeah that works." The judge raps their gavel on the bench and calls the trial to a close.

[sconeaon]

WIP posting WIP posting

this is currently just called cinnamon copyright infringement straight up so. hi have a short excerpt

~

They were desperate; she was desperate. Surely such circumstances would lead both parties to adapt!

“It is in a fairy’s nature to help children! Sure, nothing else fairies do is in my nature, but—but this is totally going to work for me,” Cinnamon spoke aloud, completely to herself, as she typed out a frantic response to the post; “’I am available from right now. Right this second. Immediately!’”

Pleasantly unaware of how utterly desperate she sounded, Cinnamon closed her phone for a second, intent on attempting to soothe her mind enough to rest a little—she hadn’t expected anyone to reply so quickly, if at all.

Her phone vibrating so intensely with absolutely no warning was enough to make Cinnamon squeak in surprise, the device skittering across the floor as she completely lost her grip on it—a grumble and a flick of her star-ended wand was enough to bring it back to her hands, though their incessant shaking was enough to have it threatening to fall again if she didn’t just pick up the call.

“Uhm…hi, hello? You’ve reached Cinna—Mona, this is Mona!” Cinnamon spoke into the receiver, her voice likely a lot too loud and jittery, “what can I do you fo—”

“Immediately, immediately?! Can you be here—” a distinct sound of something shattering, and then a venomous giggle. Various sounds of pain followed as the caller just about managed to shriek out, “like, immediately, now? It’s an emer—”

Dial tone. Whatever hellion was going on had completely cut the line.

“One thing about me, Miss Lady on the Phone,” Cinnamon smirked to nobody but herself, swinging her wand with a tentative but practised hand, “is that I really can do ‘immediately’!”

Sure, she could do immediately—

--but as she fell from a significant height, her cloud of smoke far from accurate, Cinnamon remembered that she couldn’t do immediately daintily.

Smacking face first onto the rain-wet concrete streets of Dimmadelphia at all hours of the evening was not an enjoyable experience, but at the very least nobody had been around. She wasn’t quite sure what would have been worse if there were pedestrian observers; if the crime of revealing magic or the embarrassment of the fall. Both possibilities made Cinnamon groan from the dull ache in her cheek.

Stumbling back up from the ground and dusting herself off, Cinnamon got a good look at the building in front of her. Drab, dark and depressing, really—no place for any kind of child, especially not one with the spirit evidently being expressed on the phone.

The remnants of what had once been art pieces, scrubbed away to preserve continuity with the rest of the grey-and-boring architectural decisions of this area, covered the side walls of the home. Paint splatters and drawings of dream-like landscapes, dreams and—and wishes.

Cinnamon had never stumbled upon a god-parent candidate in the wild before; or at least, if she had, it was never this blazingly blatant. What were you meant to do in this situation? Call the fairy DMV and ask if the kid is already on the list?

…were you meant to take the job up yourself?

“No! Nuh-uh, Cin, get that thought straight out of your head,” Cinnamon cursed, shaking her head to remove the mere idea from the Etch-a-Sketch of her brain, “you are here on human work. Human caregiver work only.”

With a deep breath in, she pressed her hands to the cold steel of the front door.

[slothgiirl]

the spy part 1(keith x reader)

8k. explicit content. while on medical leave reader meets the red paladin of voltron during the war against Zarkon.

The corridors are well lit. It’s like being in a brand new hospital, this ship in the rebel fleet. 

People hustle around, landing, taking off in smaller ships to distant planets. Your hand goes to your arm. The medic had given you a movement’s leave, so you were resting for now on this ever moving ship. 

Outside the widows, you spy an assortment of ships, each one’s origins clear from the design. So many planets, so many peoples banding together against Zarkon. You’d win the war. 

It was what you kept telling yourself. 

You would. 

It was just a matter of time.

You round the corner, stretching your arm across your chest, a simple form of physical therapy in deep space. You hadn’t seen earth since being deployed. The galaxy garrison seemed like a dream from another life. You had been on track for the chemistry department, long term missions to mars to analyze soil and dust, not this, not a war. You take a breath. 

And spot the Red Paladin. 

He’s one of the most recognizable people in the universe, and his grungy hair and distinctive outfit does him no favors. You’d never seen him before, not in the flesh. Sure. Voltron had saved your ass a handful of times. You wouldn’t have survived the assault on Arrakis if Voltron hadn’t rammed the shield. Trapped. Piloting a fighter craft that was closer to a mosquito irritating the Galra then pushing them back.

But you hardly knew him.

He’s gripping the railing tightly, trying to camouflage into the wall as an alien with crystalline blue skin and hair like saturated indigo leans into him. 

The line of his shoulders is taut, brittle. 

You don’t even think. 

“There you are,” you force yourself to be synthetically cheerful as you smile easily at the paladin, who you realize quickly you don’t know his name but you know what he is and that must be an awful feeling, being so recognizable without being known. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” you lied, elbowing the blue alien out of the way. You could never tell much from a single glance at themis species despite their largely humanoid appearance. 

You put your hand on his arm loosely, “come on, we’re late enough and you know how annoyed the others get.” Good, that seemed convincing enough. 

The red paladin’s eyes go wide, his mouth a grimace and it’s then that you notice the feverish flush to his skin. 

But he doesn’t pull away or argue. 

You ignore the alien and decide small talk was the way to go until you put some distance, “I’m kind of hurt you didn’t come visit me while I was healing,” you stick close to the truth, “but since it only took an hour? a varga? for me to heal I won’t hold it against you.” He’s too warm.

Maybe the space flu?

Was that even a thing?

You weren't sure. 

Mostly, you snuck into work camps and blew up strategic targets using whatever you could get your hands on to make a bomb. The chemistry came in handy. 

He sways as he walks, looking like your roommate at the garrison after a few too many hits after an exam. “Do I know you?”

You flush, embarrassed. “Sorry, I just,” you look back, but the alien’s been left a couple turns back, “you looked uncomfortable.” You take a step back, letting go of him. “Are you okay?” 

His expression furrows, mouth a pinched line as he goes from suspicious to annoyed, takes a u-turn back to suspicious as he studies you, before relaxing. “Yeah. yeah. . .who are you?”

You introduce yourself, taking on the meaningless garrison designation at the end, “technically second year member, though I’ve been with the runners mostly.” No designation more than a number. 

“You do look human,” he replies simply, moving to get a look at your ears, “not many of those out here.”

“And yet somehow the sentries always look the other way,” you muse, “not very bright. I’m almost convinced the Empire’s in it’s failing bureaucracy days.” 

He winces, before deadpanning, “eh, I don’t know how useful a lion is against the DMV.” 

You laugh. 

He takes slow deliberate breaths, steadying himself, “I’m Keith.”

“Seriously though, do you need to see a medic?” He looked in serious need of a tylenol. The ships were usually crisp, you wore a jacket most of the time to stave off the permanent chill. 

Keith shakes his head, chewing his lip before meeting your gaze with an intense concentration in his violet eyes, as if he was gauging how much titrant he could add before hitting the endpoint and if half a drop was worth the risk. “I’m just. . .going through something.”

“Anyone I can call for you?” You weren't about to abandon him here. Sure, he was a paladin and could probably look after himself. But you couldn’t in good conscience walk away. 

He swallows, looking down for a moment and you are startled to find how much you miss his attention boring into you with the loveliest eyes you’d ever seen. 

“No,” Keith replies mulishly as he jerks away from you. “I’m fine.”

Which was a total lie. It was obvious he wasn’t feeling well but you weren’t about to get on his case. You were sure he had people for that. He wasn’t some random soldier in arms with you that you watched out for and hoped not to have to watch die. 

You swallow the bitter thought away, crossing your arms over your chest.

Leaning back against the hall, you watch evenly as Keith stumbles, catching himself on the wall. His mouth is a drawn line of determination. 

You didn’t understand why. 

There was aid here. It wasn’t the same as crawling through cramped mining tunnels and swallowing back pain forcing yourself to work through it until the mission was accomplished. 

“Do you need help,” you ask.

“No.” He leans a hand against the wall.

You raise a brow, wondering if he would pass out for whatever weird space flu he had clearly caught and you could only hope it was nothing like the infections that ran rampant in the work camps, or if he would give in and accept your offer of help. The former seemed more likely. 

You don’t ditch him though, focusing your attention on the porthole to the stars. 

There was no rush: no reason to help him by force. People didn’t learn if you babied them you’d caught on quick back on earth during your tutoring hours. You had to let them fall and smash their face in sometimes. 

So you stay, watching the stars.

Keith makes no move to take another step. 

It still got you, looking out into the vastness of space and realizing this really was your life now, you were out here, further than you’d ever dreamed. Everywhere you looked, novel stars, distant planets teaming with life. You could have done without the war, but it was what it was. 

“And here I thought Mars would be the furthest I’d go,” you comment more to yourself than Keith. 

The red paladin makes a small sound of acknowledgement. 

“Earth’s, or was, at the beginning of our space age. People had barely begun to live on the research bases on Mars,” you watch him out of the corner of your eye in case he really does pass out, “so no Star Trek for me but now I’m here.” 

“There’s a war going on.”

You turn over to look at him, sort of annoyed because yeah you got that, spent enough time in the trenches without a fancy lion spaceship, but the bubbling annoyance dissipates when you see the upturned corners of his mouth. Keith was teasing you. 

Shifting your weight, you add, “yeah well, instead of being a footnote in a Mars base’s history I’ll be a footnote in this war instead.” Gallows humor. You needed a lot of that when regularly infiltrating camps and posing as a slave, as a prisoner, the bottom of the barrel that wouldn’t get a second glance from the Galra soldiers. 

He frowns. “I don't think anyone’s just a footnote.”

“I was joking.”

“Oh.” Keith looks away.

You feel bad. “It’s probably better not to be so cynical,” you muse, “but it’s like the vice president thing, no one remembers them unless the president gets assassinated.” God you couldn’t help how dark your humor could veer even when trying to be positive. 

He looks over at you, head tilted, considering. Despite being standoffish, Keith was easy to read unlike the slick space pirates you’d encountered. 

You meet his gaze head on. 

“I might need some help,” he allows. 

You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting the smile that pulled at the corners of your mouth. “If you’re sure,” you utter, regarding him carefully and unable to keep the teasing from your voice. You shouldn’t. You barely knew him and what little you’d learned made it clear he wouldn’t take well to your teasing. 

War made quick brothers out of everyone. 

But Keith held himself afar.

A questioning glance danced in his uniquely violet eyes as he tried to get a read on you. “I am.” 

You nod, stepping besides him and wrapping an arm around his waist. You were always caught by surprise by how heavy a grown adult could be. And depending on the alien. . .

He takes a step, still holding himself afar from you, barely resting any weight on you. His muscles were stiff under your touch, back rigid that matched the uncomfortable look on his chiselled features. 

You follow his lead. 

At Keith’s sedate pace, it would take quite a while before you dropped him off where you needed to go. Being personable was part of being a leader or it’d lead to mutiny. Not that you had ever gotten that far. The Galaxy Garrison had slapped the graduation badge on your uniform and sent you into space. 

You scrabble for familiar territory, earth and the garrison. The Black Paladin was a Garrison member returned from the grave. Rumor had it all the paladins were garrison deserters. 

Veronica McCain did share a familiar resemblance with the blue paladin. It was probably true. 

“I attended the Garrison campus at Guiana,” you offer. “I was hoping for Texas or Florida to be closer to home, but I didn’t test into pilot or engineer.” 

Keith makes a sound in the back of his throat. 

Even through the fabric of his uniform, he felt warm. How anybody could be warm in such cold halls was anybody’s guess. A permanent chill had sunk its way into your bones. You missed the humid heat of Guiana. 

“It was nice though. The jungle was pretty close and it was always hot,” you tell him. “I thought I wouldn’t miss the humidity, step outside and it was like having just showered but I do. These ships have to be at 15 C.” 

“Texas is hot too.” Keith utters quietly. 

“Isn’t the desert cold at night though,” you ask, already knowing the answer. It had been basic earth science. 

“Yeah. It is.” There’s longing in his voice. You wish he’d say more just to hear him speak. 

Warmth spreads, an embarrassing tell, through your cheeks. 

“I did miss the snow while there,” you continue, “it didn’t snow much up in Vancouver but it was never as hot as Guiana, and the rain was warm!” You had never gotten over that. The rain would spot and start throughout the day but the sun would keep on shining. 

“What were you,” Keith asks bluntly.

“Chemisist, more the physical and inorganic type,” you admit, “it was fun doing wet labs.” That had gotten you hooked back in regular school. “Then got shunted to command track after a few too many volunteering opportunities. Guess the lesson there’s to not try too hard.”

That gets a laugh out of him. 

“You,” you ask him as he shifts more of his weight onto you, finally accepting the help he asked for. Stubborn guy. 

“Pilot.”

You look over at him, his wild hair brushing against your cheek and the simple action shouldn’t excite you but it does. He was hot with sharp features offset by a certain enthralling earnestness but he could run a comb through his hair.

Keith didn’t seem the pilot type: arrogant, loud, generally strong personalities. 

“You any good,” you ask though you’ve heard about Voltron so he has to be pretty fucking good to be part of them. How did Voltron choose its pilots?

He smirks easily, close to a smile at the mere mention of piloting and you knew that moment he loved it: didn’t matter if he was good at it or not. You swallow hard as anticipation buzzes under your skin for no good reason. 

Get your head out of the gutter, you tell yourself. 

“I’m a pretty good pilot,” Keith answers, somehow managing to sound like he’s stating a fact instead of bragging. 

“Just pretty good?” You smile at him, letting him know you were only joking around as you both round another corner, finally making it to the transient quarters. People were always dropping in and out of mobile spaceports like these. 

He snorts. “Better than most.” Keith shrugs, smiling over at you. 

“Don’t be modest on my account,” you utter, looking away, not sure what to do about the growing heat in your body that had nothing to do with temperature controls. 

“It’s true,” he says simply. 

Honesty was a hard thing to come by. You were finding more and more reasons to like the red paladin as you reach his current room. No special treatment here. 

Or maybe it was politics and optics, making sure everyone knew Voltron was of the people and not aiming to replace Zarkon as rulers of the universe. 

Keith places a hand against the door, putting space between you both.

You swallow, glancing away, feeling some of the tension ease. 

“You sure you don’t want me to send a medic,” you ask him, looking over at his striking eyes. The heat under your skin is a live wire: you curl your toes in your shoes. People usually didn’t affect you this much. Even the smell of him was so distinct, drawing you in. 

It was an unprecedented reaction. 

He must feel it too. 

Keith studies you with an enraptured fascination shining in his wide eyes, mouth parted on the verge of answering. Both your bodies sway towards each other like branches in the wind: sunflowers orienting towards the sun. 

You shift your weight from one foot to another. 

It relieves enough tension for you to shift away. 

“No. No medic,” Keith finally answers. 

“Right then.” But you don’t make a move to leave. 

He says nothing. 

The silence is broken by the hum of the ship's engines under your feet. People move about and you can hear their footsteps echoing on the metal floors. 

Supposedly quintessence powered ships smelled like ozone. 

This one was powered by crystals and some Olkari engine. You wouldn't know the specifics, they were beyond you. And not your job. 

You look back at him, ready to leave. The space between you could so easily tilt to awkward and you weren’t sure what you were doing or why you found yourself so entranced by Keith. You barely knew him. You didn’t want to be one of the soldiers with a photograph in your pocket and a farflung hope that you’d-

He’s looking at you, cautious, movements slow and deliberate as if he’s caught between thinking and simply doing. 

Then Keith’s demeanour becomes determined: deciding to take the leap without looking down. He cups your cheeks in his hands and kisses you.

For a second you’re baffled, trying to figure out how you got to point B when this wasn’t a bar and you had no agenda, before you shrug and kiss him back. Keith was undeniably attractive. He was even a bit taller than you which was compelling, you were on the tall side for a girl. 

It’s not some unsolvable thought experiment, you kiss him back.

And a current of static electricity runs through your core. Heat pools after only just a kiss that steals your breath away. 

You can’t get enough, his hands warm against your skin, igniting a delicious sensation in your very core. You want more. You kiss him harder, your mouth against his, sucking on his bottom lip. 

Your hands clutch at the fabric of his shift.

Keith kisses you back, matching your frenzied energy, his mouth parting against yours and pulling you flush against his chest. 

It does nothing to dissolve the tension, the charged energy between you spikes. Like a fire fed by wood it grew. 

It was a heady feeling, his hands caressing your cheeks as Keith kissed you with a vigor you thought only existed in soapy dramas. Heat pools in your belly like a sinking stone: you liked his intensity. 

Keith pulls away, catching his breath, resting his forehead against yours. 

Some of the muddled list clears from your head, now completely in the gutter as you press Keith against the door to his room. 

Oh. . .were you really doing this?

Keith looks a fuckable mess, his eyes flickering from your lips to your eyes. Still, he hesitates. 

You can feel the question linger in the air, can feel it in the featherlight touch of his hands ghosting over your cheeks as he makes to pull away, to let you go if you want to turn back now. But you don’t.

You want to run your hands through his hair. You’re practically burning up wondering how Keith would look splayed on the bed between your thighs. . .how he would feel. 

Would he be just as intense in bed as he fucked you? 

“You feel it too,” he asks quietly.

You furrow your brows, thrown. There were a lot of intense emotions coursing through you all narrowed down to feeling horny as a teenager back on earth. Masturbation only went so far. 

You swallow, trying to rack your brain cells together and say something. Yeah. It was a bit. . .much. Space much. But that didn’t make any sense. You hadn’t taken any drinks from strangers. 

The connection was too strong to discount the possibility of space weirdness affecting both of you. 

“Yeah,” you reply, sounding more whiny than you’d like to. The apex of your thighs throbbed with want. Anticipation had built up and he was right there; Keith

s breath fanned over you, his forehead against yours like a touchpoint. 

Your fingers were still curled into the fabric of his shirt. 

In the hall. 

Where anyone could see. 

“So what now,” you ask, “medic?”

Keith snorts, “No. I just-do you want to come inside?”

You smirk. Everyone knew what that meant. There were so many variations with the same outcome. 

“Yeah. Okay.” You put a pin in any alien space nonsense and slip inside Keith’s assigned quarters for however long Voltron was here for.

The lights are off. You don’t bother to study the room when Keith crushes his mouth against yours. You stumble around in the dark, feeling emboldened now that he’d voiced an invitation, he wanted this as much as you did, and run your hands up his chest. He was lean and lithe. Keith leans into your touch, a shiver running down his spine when you run your fingers through his hair and run your tongue over his bottom lip. 

Keith moans, the sound scratchy from the back of his throat excites you. 

It was thrilling to know you could elicit such a response from someone. You liked feeling hot and sexy. And from a guy like Keith who you were vibing with. . .

He finds the jagged hem of your cut tank top, which had doubled as a bandage, and slides his hands under your shirt. His fingers are calloused, skin hot against yours and there was always something so carnal about skin on skin touch. Keith clutches at your sides and leads you backwards. 

You trust that he knows the layout.

Your mind has boiled down to simple desires. 

“Keith,” you mumble against his mouth as he guides your hips against his and you feel his cock beneath the fabric. It goes straight to your ego: straight to your pussy. 

More heat. It’s unbearable how much your body throbs and you moan against him, against his lips, your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling.

“Mhm,” he asks, just as overcome with lust as you were. Keith tilts his head up, and you kiss his jaw, kiss the side of his throat, nipping at the flesh and enjoying the breathy moans he makes as your knees hit the bed. 

You want more. 

You move your hands to his shoulders, “let's get this off,” you utter softly, pushing at his jacket. 

“Okay,” he replies, crowding you against his bed until you have no choice but to sit down. Keith discards his jacket, and pulls his shirt over his head. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. It’s dark. You can’t see him well. You still react like a charged electron. 

“Now you,” Keith states simply, not exactly a command. It was nice, the lack of mind games and subterfuge. 

You scoot up further on the bed, shrugging your bomber jacket off. 

He’s watching. 

Awkwardness creeps up on you. There was no sexy way to take off a sports bra. 

You pull your shirt over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. Then you peel off your sports bra. The elastic worked too well. 

Keith’s sitting up on his knees.

“You’re beautiful,” he states.

“Come here,” you utter, inviting him closer. 

He complies readily, cupping your cheek and kissing your mouth eagerly, closer to a lover than a random encounter. 

You grab his other hand, guiding him up to your chest, to your breast. Keith runs his thumb over your nipple, gooseflesh rises on your skin. He trails bruising kisses down your throat. 

Your breath catches in your throat. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him flush against you, savoring the feel of his chest against yours. 

“Fuck,” you groan as Keith bites down hard at the crook of your neck, harder than you’d expected. 

He stills. “I’m-I,” making to pull away.

“No,” you reach for him, tilting his head up as you move to straddle his waist, “it’s okay. I just didn’t expect it.”

“I won’t do it again,” he stammers out. 

“I didn't say I didn't like it.” You push him down against the bed, topping him. “Just warn a girl.”

Keith wraps his hands around your hips, tugging at the waistband of your trousers. “These are kind of in the way.”

Laughing, you reply, “could say the same to you.” Your hands pop the button of his jeans. 

It’s a fumble to pull your trousers down. Neither of you care, eager to get on with it. He shoves his jeans down his legs along with his boxers. 

You straddle Keith, completely naked and lean down to capture his lips against yours. His cock twitches against your thigh and your toes curl up. His tongue runs over your top lip, you part your mouth, letting him in. 

You cup his cheeks between your hands, your hips rolling against his. 

He thrusts feverishly against you. His fingers dig into your bare hips, skin against skin. 

“Come here,” Keith utters hoarsely, “I wanna fuck you.” 

“Think I’d rather ride you,” you reply back breathlessly.

“You can do that after,” he whines, a rumble emanating from his chest but your head is too fucked up to make sense of it. 

You sit up, hands on his chest. “That’s presumptuous of you.” 

Keith grins, wrapping his hands around your wrists, and rolls you over so he’s on top. “Is it,” he asks rhetorically as his hand reaches between your thighs, ghosting over the wetness of your pussy, “when you’re this wet?”

You moan, canting your hips, cashing the feel of his hand, wanting relief. It was a mounting pressure in your belly, a forest fire under your skin and you needed Keith. “Okay. yeah,” you nod, closing your eyes when Keith bent his head and licked a stripe from your nipple to your collarbone. You whimper, lost in the sensation. 

“Tell me what you want,” Keith asks. 

“Fuck me. Please fuck me,” you utter, you hands clutchinf at his shoulders, bringing him flush agaisnt you. 

Keith aquieses. 

You bend your knees, spreading your legs as he positions his cock. 

“Oh fuck,” Keith mutters as he pushes into you. 

Fuck indeed. You moan his name without thought, closing your eyes and laying your head back against the bed. His cock fills you up, sliding into your pussy with ease given how turned on you were. 

Your fingers dig into his shoulders as he stretches you out. 

“God, yes,” you utter dazed. 

Keith moves his hips. You roll your hips up to meet him. He nips at your collarbone as he thrusts into you with favour. 

As promised he fucks you.

Keith captures your mouth in a kiss that catches the moans you make as he reaches between you and runs his thumb over your clit. His pace, the way he was kissing you madly. . .the heat that had been building since you’d met him comes crashing down. 

You come. 

Leaving you boneless. 

“Keith,” you whimper.

“Sh,” he tells you, kissing the shell of your ear, “let me make you feel good.”

“You..sort of already did,” you utter completely fucked out. 

“Turn over.” Keith says even as he’s already helping you move, his arms supporting your weight. He presses his lips on the back of your neck, as he grabs a pillow and sets it under you. 

You bring up your knees, laying on your legs, “thought I was going to go next,” you tease, reaching up to card your fingers through his hair. 

He stills, “if you. . .”

“No. No,” you shrug, “I did ask you to fuck me.”

Keith runs his hands over your shoulders, sliding down your sides. He squeezes your ass with his hands. 

“Best two out of three,” you offer, half joking half serious because while you were still blissed out from having just orgasmed, you could already feel your pussy clench with anticipation. Seriously, the effect he had on you-

You can feel his smile against your skin, “If you think you can handle it.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” you reply, arching your back into him, titling your head back, and pulling his hair so you could kiss him. It was sloppy, and the angle was awkward, but none of it mattered when Keith stroked your pussy with his fingers, dipping into your wet folds. 

Already stimulated, you shudder with pleasure. 

Your tongue strokes his in an open mouthed kiss. He tastes as good as he smells, Keith filling up your senses like an incense stick wafting through a room. 

He wraps an arm around your chest, his hand caressing your breast, pulling you against his chest, both of you melding together. Keith thrusts his cock into you again. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, hand fisting the sheets of his bed, moaning into his mouth. 

It was a combination of his cock in you, his thumb rolling your nipple in his hand, that set you aflame. 

You couldn’t get enough, your hips jerking back, up to meet his. Keith fucks you against the bed. 

He palms your breast in his hand, pulling you up to him, keeping you close as he plants a kiss at the juncture of your ear and jaw, on the side of your neck whilst nipping the skin and you moan, his cock hitting just the right spot as he slams into you. 

First he grows comfortable, pulling almost entirely out before thrusting hard as he finds a pace that leaves you both a mess. 

“Right there, right there,” you utter. 

“Tell me how good I make you feel.”

He punctuates his words with a roll of his hips, his fingers draw a circle around your clit without giving you the satisfaction you desperately seek, already building up to another climax. 

You nod jerkily. “So fucking good Keith. Your cock feels so fucking good,” you manage to reply.

He speeds up, faster, deeper, at your words. The bedframe, bolted down into the floor, creaks. 

“Just like that.” You moan wantonly. “Right there.”

He responds to your words, pulling out to the head of his cock, teasing your entrance just so before slamming back in.

You shut your eyes and whimper, over sensitive to your very marrow. It was too much. Keith was trailing kisses down your spine, his breath warm, his cock twitching inside your filling every inch of your pussy up. 

With a shudder, you come, stars behind your eyelids and short circuiting. You never knew sex could be this amazing. Not in real life. 

You got what people meant about the right partner. 

The right sexual energy to match. 

You collapse, a puppet with its strings cut. Keith’s hand across your chest is the only thing keeping you from melding into the mattress like a blob. His hips thrust against your ass mindlessly, chasing his own climax.

With another couple of thrusts, his hips snapping against you, Keith moans your name and comes undone behind you. 

He comes inside you, hot and sticky.

His hand grasps the back of your neck, holding you in place as he comes inside you. It’s unexpectedly hot. You didn’t know you could like this in bed. 

You didn’t know how much you liked an obstinate expression with wide eyes until you met Keith. He had the type of soulful eyes you could drown in. 

He had drawn out something in you that you hadn’t even been aware of. 

Your thoughts center on him as he finishes inside you. 

“You take my dick so good,” he says with a surprising amount of softness for what amounts to a one night stand and a pang strikes your chest, wishing you had met him under better circumstances where there might be-

Keith gets off you, slumping next to you on the bed. 

There’s a thrum of satisfaction running through you as you look at his face in profile. The insane idea that you might just stay and cuddle plants itself. 

That was impossible.

It was time to cut and run.

Sure, he’d fucked you. But he was also still half a stranger. No matter how jumbled your thoughts were, you refused to give into the pull he had on you. 

You wanted to lay there with him. 

Keith blinks slowly, looking as blissed out as you feel, reaching out a hand towards you, but stopping himself halfway. 

You feel a little disappointed, but say nothing. It was just a one off thing you remind yourself, no matter how you felt. 

Now that you can think a little more clearly, though the sensation remains like a lump in your throat that starts there no matter how much you swallow, you glance around the dark room. Only the barest red lights on the floor illuminate enough to cast shadows. 

Keith’s own eyes reflect the light like a cat. Just a glimmer of traffic sign yellow. 

But you’re too tired to think, so you file it away in your head under the nebulous details you’ve learned about the red paladin.  

You blink, grimancing as Keith’s come runs down your thigh onto the sheets. At least they weren’t yours. 

He closes his eyes. 

“I’d say sorry about the mess,” you break the easy silence lulling you into staying there, “but it's your fault,” you tease way too familiarly. 

Keith sounds embarrassed when he utters, “sorry about that. I can get carried away.”

You smile softly, tracing over his shadowed form with your eyes but resisting the urge to reach out. That part was over. “It was good.”

“You did mention.” 

So he could joke. 

You giggle in the darkness that envelopes the room. You were good at being friendly and taking charge but you understood the hesitancy to open up to people you just met. 

Keith’s chest makes a rumbling sound akin to a cheetah purring. 

You try and hold onto the thought, sure it means something, but the sound draws you in and you lose the battle against yourself, curling up into his side. 

He takes this as the permission it is, and tangles his limbs with yours. 

A thrum of warmth surges where Keith’s skin touches you and you’re not sure if its his running warm or if it's all in your head or-

your eyes drift closed. 

He’s purring.

You know Keith would be embarrassed if you pointed it out. 

So you say nothing. 

Everything seemed so intangible anyhow. The world had been turned down a notch. The post orgasm glow remained unrivalled. 

Even a hit from a bong didn’t measure up. 

Your first time had been a real embarrassment (you hadn’t managed to get the boy’s cock in you), this was just a weird quirk of his, and it was soothing. 

You close your eyes. 

Keith’s breathing is deep and steady, you wonder if he’s fallen asleep, but don’t feel pressured to check. 

It was nice, not scurrying off, not being more than a little drunk. War was exhausting. Earth had only been in it for less than three years. No wonder some aliens were in such shit moods. 

You exhale. 

There’s no way to mark the passage of time. 

The bed shifts under you. Keith runs the back of his hand gently over your shoulder.

Your eyes flutter open.

“So would this be round two or three,” you ask lightly.

Keith smiles lightly, “you did say…”

“I did,” you laugh easily, blushing, the flush creeping from your cheeks to the tips of your ears. 

You swing a leg over his waist, straddling him, but not without feeling the start of a soreness in your legs. It doesn’t deter you. 

Keith lays back, watching you through his lashes as you sit up. He looks lovely. 

You lean down and kiss his mouth, reaching for his cock with your hands. He was already half hard when you wrap your hand around his shaft. 

His breath hitches in his throat as you move your hand. It’s been a moment since you’d jerk anyone, but it’s not rocket science. You press kisses down his throat, moving your hand firmly up and down his length until he’s completely hard. You nip at his collarbone, marking him the way he’d left bruising kiss all over you. 

His cock twitches in your hand, Keith’s hips thrusting up into you. 

Anticipation builds in your belly, but you want to set the pace, stay in charge. So you still your movements.

Keith whines under you, his hands holding your waist.

“Be a good boy for me,” you tell him. “Can you do that?”

“Mm.”

“Use your words.”

“Yeah,” he manages hoarsely, “I can be good.”

You smile, lining him up against your entrance. You shift your hips, teasing his cock against your wet folds, closing your eyes as you moan at the feeling. 

Keith thrusts up, trying to get more friction.

You still wanting to drag it out. Though your thighs ached and your pussy throbbed and you wondering if you should just-

You rub his cockhead against your pussy, “oooOH,” you moan. Your nails scratch his chest lightly, trying to steady yourself. Your heart raced, back arching down to him.

“Come here,” Keith groans, his fingers trailing up, asking for more, his hand on the small of your back. 

You give in, sinking down onto his cock. 

He moans your name, shutting his eyes. 

It’s pornographic, the way Keith rises up to meet you, hips bucking against yours, the expanse of his pale throat. 

You roll your hips slowly, fucking yourself on his cock. At this angle, the way he filled you- 

“Fuck,” Keith moans, “you feel so good.”

“I could say the same,” you reply, sliding against his hips, picking up speed. You hold yourself up, hand on his chest.

You suck in a breath as his cock thrusts into you. Static filled your head as you chased your pleasure, grinding against him. You tilt your head back, moaning his name, everything but Keith becoming background noise. 

He palms your breast.

Your breath hitches when he rolls your nipple between his thumb and finger.

“Ah,” you sigh. 

Your stomach was taunt. 

He doesn’t go further. You sort of wish he would. You trusted Keith not to hurt you. . .too badly. 

The idea excites you, as he wraps his hand around your throat. 

You match him, curling your fingers in his hair and pulling hard, “look at me,” you try and order but your voice is a whine. You’re too hot and heavy to think. 

His cock twitches inside you, filling you up and fuck it felt good to be streched out. 

Keith’s thumb strokes the side of your throat, his grip firm. “Do you like this,” he asks, his gaze heavy on you. He was entirely concentrated on you. It was like being worshipped. 

It sent a wave of pleasure coursing through your veins. 

“I wouldn’t mind if you got rougher,” you admit, finding it easy to trust him.

He looks away. 

You falter. Had you read things wrong? 

Keith bucks his hips up against you and you let the thought go, sinking onto his cock and groaning, “Keith…” 

It was easy to let go when it felt this good. His hand around your throat, fingers digging into your hips, you were sure there’d be bruises tomorrow. Not that anyone would be able to tell from over your uniform. 

A shudder runs down your spine, you squirm on his cock mindlessly, thinking about bruises in the shape of his hands, about the marks on your neck you could already feel blooming on your skin. Heat surges in your chest, something primal as your thoughts linger there. 

You nails run down his chest, leaving shallow scratches as you try and get a better hold, desperately grinding against Keith, down on the bed, his cock ramming into you. “Fuck,” you think, “fuck. . .Keith. . .”

You can’t stand it. 

The pressure in your stomach, the heat scorching your pussy, the sound of Keith’s whines and moans, your name tumbling out of his mouth like a hymn that raised your heart beat, blood pounding in your ears. 

Keith squeezes your neck, your throat bobs under his fingers and fuck-

You come. 

Your legs tremble, unable to support you any longer as you collapse, a quivering mess on Keith. His hands move down to grip your thighs, pulling you down flush against him, down to the hilt of his cock as he comes, moaning erotically. 

The thread of heat doesn’t dissipate entirely as you rest on his chest, boneless and sticky with sweat, but it relaxes and you breath the scent of him in instead of pulling away entirely. 

Keith strokes a hand down your spine, an afterthought, “that was. . .” 

“Yeah.” You’re exhausted. 

You close your eyes, listening to the inhuman rumble of Keith’s chest as it rises and falls with every breath you take. 

You end up slipping out. The halls are in the light cycle, but no one bothers you as you walk. 

Getting up the next morning is hell. 

Your legs are sore, and that’s not even mentioning how much your pussy hurts when you take a step. You take a dose of painkillers still remaining from your injury and check your messages. 

Nothing from earth. 

That was expected. 

The meager universal communications were taken up by the war effort. You still sent your family messages, even if it was just one way. It was a way to keep in touch. It felt like watching starlight and knowing it was millions of years old, a form of time travel. 

You shower. 

Keith’s come was a mess on the inside of your thighs and the thought is not as gross as it should be, your skin warming up, zapped by static. You run your fingers over your clit and fuck yourself in the shower thinking of the red paladin and his come.

You get out, brushing your hair out, not looking in the mirror at the purple hickies spread out like a constellation on your chest, and realize how weird you were being. 

Come was gross. 

You hated swallowing so you never did. The tentative relationships at the garrison had been short, you had all been teenagers, and now anything that happened was a one off thing sometimes involving aliens. 

You swallow, gripping the counter of your sink. You were horny again. 

No. 

Not going there. 

No space weirdness this morning. 

Because you’re on leave for the space equivalent of 6 or 5 days, you don’t have much to do. You get food. It had taken getting used to, and figuring out which brightly colored pastel goo thing was good, but there was a variety. You still had no clue what was plants or animals up in space. 

The more liberated planets, the more supplies trickled in. Pirates loved to take a cut. 

You eat as soldiers stop by to refuel, fill up on supplies. Despite the stress, you missed being out on the front. Being out of the action sucked. 

Sitting around on a spaceship was boring. 

It wasn’t like they had shops or movie theaters. Walking around too much ended up with you being in the way. 

You clench your jaw, feeling feverish. 

And you had just been getting better. . .

You shove the thought away. 

You end up watching space TV: reality TV shows like Galra Ninja Warrior and nature docu series on plants, some you’ve been on, before finally sliding your hand under the waistband of your trousers and rubbing your clit. 

It takes the edge off, but the heat’s still there, pressed up in the pit of your stomach, cheeks flushes and you sigh, unsatisfied as you click to something other than the marine biomes of Kmeolsuahr. For aliens larger than a schoolbus, they were peaceful creatures. Since they were filter feeders, agriculture had never developed a hold on their planet, but water generators were plentiful. 

Yet another show starring Galra. It was the most common type of show in the Empire. Hijacking communications had given this traveling spaceship TV. You were glad for it now. 

You curl up, the communicator snug around your wrist translating everything instantaneously. It was the part in the soap where there has to be a duel for honor. What a load of crap. 

The two Galra circle each other, close ups of their face like a mexican stand-off. Through TV you got to know the Glara in the empire as more than just soldiers. Spending time in the camps taught you that even Galra citizens could be arrested for treasonous statements against Zarkon. 

They make growling alien sounds, something between a jaguar and a sound not found on earth, an underlying clicking that raises the hairs on the back of your neck. 

You connect the dots. 

The glowing eyes, the purrs and rumbles, and whatever weird alien thing was going on: the red paladin was part Galra. 

Only that made no sense. 

He was from Earth. 

First contact had been what, when the paladins had disappeared? When the Kerberos mission had been abducted, and boy had that made fringe conspiracy theorists happy. . .how could he be part Galra? 

Was it even your problem?

Surely this would go away. . .

You were leaving in a little over five days. 

You curl up and watch TV until you fall asleep, determined to enjoy the rest while it lasted and your weren’t trudging through waist deep mud. 

“Read through the debrief,” a commander with a nebulous rank above you asks. In your line of work, so much was redacted. Information gathering was a fancy way of saying spy. It was why you worked so closely with the rebels. 

You don’t even blink at the slight pale easter egg yellow alien, ears that resembled hair, long and droopy like a rabbit: there were four of them. You’d met stranger. “Yeah. Long mission.”

You were not looking forward to being on a planet with an inhospitable surface. A sun close enough that set the surface on fire with it’s rays, no thanks. 

Still, it was your assignment. 

“It is vital.”

They always said that. 

It seemed to be extracting some key players. Who they were remained unknown until you had to know. It was a lot of flying blind to keep information from leaking to the wrong ears. Loose lips sink ships and all that jazz. 

“I’ll treat it that way,” you nod, pressing your tongue to the roof of your mouth. It would be fun flying a hijacked Galra fighter ship. The planet was pretty deep in Empire controlled space. 

“And,” the alien looks you up and down like a Garrison RA finding a stain on your uniform during morning inspection, “get rid of that scent.”

“What,” you ask plainly, “scent.”

The alien raises a hairless muscle over its eye. The gesture is human enough. “Voltron has docked here.” 

It was subterfuge. Both of you were in the same line of work, you could do this dance in your sleep. “As far as I know, yes.” You are careful to keep your expression neutral, feeling stupid for not having used negating get. It wasn’t even rationed, but used pretty widely. There were many aliens who relied primarily on scent, and those whose sense of smell was far sharper than yours. 

“Mm.”

You hold their gaze. 

You weren’t one to waver.

“Any further questions?”

“None.”

“Good.”

You walk blithely back to your room, intending to shower, again, and probably take care of the warmth in your gut. The heat was like an uncomfortable itch under your skin that stubbornly remained no matter how much you ignored it. 

How was it even possible that Keith was any part alien let alone Galra? You were pretty sure the entire planet would have known if the Galra arrived on the planet. 

It was intriguing. 

Your mind drew up the details you knew, trying to make them fit. It was half mental exercise, half the urge to actually get to the bottom of this. Keith didn’t look half Glara like Prince Lotor and his gang of misfits. . .quarter, one sixteenth. . .

Occam's Razor. 

The mystery occupied your mind as you made it back to your quarters. 

Keith is pacing outside your door. 

How did he even know where your quarters were?

“Did you sniff your way here,” you ask, genuinely curious. Maybe the traits might not be apparent. . .just how Galra was the red paladin. You were reminded again how little you actually knew him. 

Understanding fills his eyes; he knew you knew. Keith looks over at you for a second before ducking his head dejectedly, a straw dog expecting to be run off. 

Your heart ached. 

How a paladin of Voltron could be so self conscious despite going toe to toe with the Empire on a daily basis. . .you didn’t know. They were only flesh and blood after all. 

You take pity on him, “so is this going to be a thing,” the corners of your mouth lift into a small smile. You were still a little sore. You wouldn’t mind going another few rounds. . .

But you needed to clear some things up first. 

Just how much of this between you was space Galra funkiness? 

Keith snorts, looking up, meeting your searching gaze. His shoulders were still tense, unsure that you weren’t about to tell him to shove off. Not the loner type entirely by choice then, his innate awkwardness must have made it hard to connect. 

It wasn’t a problem you’d ever had, rushing into everything headfirst, taking charge. 

“Not like there’s a lot of humans to choose from up here,” he says self-deprecatingly. 

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I’m down for some alien funkiness,” you answer evenly, taking a step towards him. He inhales sharply, looking away again, this time in thought. 

The lines of his face increase, clearly uncomfortable, frowning. 

“I can’t usually,” Keith admits in a tense voice, “smell this well. . .though I can smell better than Shiro.”

“Shiro?”

“The black paladin,” he explains, surprised he has to explain at all. 

You answer his unvoiced question, “everyone tends to focus on the color of the lion rather than the pilot inside.”

“Oh. That’s dumb.” He looks a little relieved at the anonymity that grants. 

“Is it just me then,” you ask, getting to the bottom of things. 

He nods, meeting your gaze. “I don’t know why but I can’t stop thinking of fucking you,” he says without ceremony. 

You find yourself blushing. The connection went both ways, the very alien connection. “Don’t hate me but I think we should go to the medic.” 

Keith frowns. “Or we could just fuck.”

“That horny,” you tease, raising a brow, “or was I just that good?”

Keith cusps a hand against your cheek, his thumb running over your lips. 

Your mouth parts, the tip of your tongue grazing his thumb. 

“So you don’t want to fuck,” Keith asks, a playful smirk on his lips. 

You swallow, the urge to say yes right there as his touch on you entranced you, sending desire cascading through your body down to your toes. “This isn’t just alien weirdness is it?” You wanted it to be more. 

“No,” he shakes his head, his breath mingling with yours. “That’s-I’m not that impulsive.”

“Good,” you mutter, pressing your body against his, and opening the door to your room.

[angelatmidnight1]

hi friend, i hope you're doing well and also drinking a lot of water! I was playing apex the other day as horizon, and i got paired with another ash on trios, and when i tell you we were having a hectic game. Our other teammate DC'd early on, and even though we were on pubs, it felt like a ranked game, because we were constantly running low on supplies and we had to run for most of the time in order to stay alive. We also held our own to try and fight off hungry squads, and i must say, i was surprised at how great of a teammate my ash was. She stuck close to me, she'd revive and use her portal to get us out of a sticky situation, she'd push in with me, and in return, i tried to give her shields and even my secondary weapon once hers ran out of ammo. I haven't played Ash myself, so i understand that this might be out of character (i also haven't kept up with her lore a lot–), but basically after this game i guess i kind of got more comfortable with the idea of a Ler Ash that isn't as menacing or cold towards the reader? Like, sure, she's a bad scary robot and all, but maybe the reader isnt as intimidated by her as other legends may be, which kind of makes her have a bit of a soft spot for the reader. So she could still have her cold ash-like remarks whenever she tickles them, and in fact shethinks that tickling is kind of pointless and childish, but she'd still poke and prod anyway, finding it curious how the reader just allows it to happen/ doesn't reaaally try to run away. While she wouldn't be as eager to tickle the reader as wattson or mirage would, I'd like to think she also wouldn't push them beyond their limits, to the point where it becomes unenjoyable. Thoughts?

Anyway sorry for the ramble, and i hope you've been having a good summer so far! :D

So, I honestly see Ash as a more merciless ler compared to the other Legends. Not quite on Revenant’s level, but maybe not too far behind. I agree that she’d look at tickling as childish, but I also think she’d be the type to use it against her opponents and add it to the list of what makes humans weak and, by default, her strong. Because I think Ash is all about being a perfect combatant, and if there’s something she can do to bring her opponents down faster, then she’s all for it.

But characters can be multilayered, so I could be convinced that Ash isn’t brutal all the time with certain people. I just think that she’d have to view the person as someone who is worth her time, maybe someone who’s really good at fighting or is consistently practicing to improve. I think that’d be one of the few times where she wouldn’t push too far, because then she’d have someone worthy to train with. And that’d be reason enough to not totally wreck them 🙃

My summer’s been alright, kinda boring though. Right now I’m annoyed because every time I go to the dmv, there’s something I didn’t do or something I don’t have and I haven’t gotten anything done. I’ve realized that I’m not as patient as I thought I was 🤦🏾‍♀️ But yeah other than that, my summer has been okay.

[rox-and-prose]

(1/2) I took a new job in retail just before the second wave hit and now I'm a bit fucked. One of my colleague (superior) refuses to wear a mask for medical reasons (and I've just learnt her kids go to a school that is having an outbreak), and I'm high risk (chronic pulmonary infections & ashtma, already lost some lung functions to past bronchitis). I've been there a week and I think I need to quit to protect myself but it sucks!!! And I know people wont take me seriously...

2/2) Like I agree quitting within a week is ridiculous but I'm so afraid of being even more chronically ill (or you know, dead) and I have some savings so itll be dumb to keep the job. But damn I hate this 😭 I feel like people dont take covid seriously cause they've never gotten a life long condition from being sick (which I have! It sucks). Do you have some funny story to distract me as a write the saddest resignation letter?

As many of my followers know, I have a touch of the ADHD. As one might expect, school was incredibly dull and difficult for me. When I finally graduated high school, the idea of then going to college for four more years seemed to me to be boring on the scale of a DMV visit and as interminable as a German opera. So, with all the grace of a toddler rejecting the concept of naptime, I decided to take a one year break. Then, after that one year I decided that I was distracted so it didn’t really count and took another. Somewhere during these two gap years and the two that came after it I started hanging out with an old friend, we’ll call him A. A and I liked to drink together and whenever my parents were out of town we would do just that. A also wasn’t going to college right away so we got to chill a lot. We would drink a bunch, go get snacks from 7-11, and then wander around suburban streets until either we had eaten everything or we had accidentally found our way home. 

One night, while wandering through the Hedge maze that is Northern Virginia streets, A and I were talking and very suddenly he goes still, like he just heard an alarm or a cop car or maybe the ice cream van. He turns to me, with that deeply serious look on his face that only the obnoxiously drunk can manage, and asks somberly “Were you in Track in high school?” I panicked a little at that. Why? I thought Just how far IS that ice cream van anyways? I gave a confused “No?” and he responds in tones just as serious as before: “I was” and then he fucking bolted. 

Now, I don’t mean he took off running, I mean one second he was there, looking like he just got bad news from a worse hospital and the next second he was 20ft away and looking to add a few zeroes onto that number. I start to run to catch up but the beer we had been drinking took issue with the idea and I slowed down, thinking Ah hell it’ll be no Drumstick for me then. This did however put me in a great position to watch A, now running full speed, attempt to jump over one of those wire signs people put in their yards for elections and stuff like it was a hurdle. 

Dear readers, he failed. 

The tip of one foot grabbed the top of the sign and stayed there like two trans girls swapping trauma stories. And he fell. Hard. Like a door swinging shut, he slammed into the pavement, one foot still magnetically attached to that sign. I, laughing only very a lot, came over and helped him to his feet. When I surveyed the damage he had sustained (scraped up but nothing broken) I could only think to say, in the most serious tone I could manage: “Dude. That real estate sign kicked your ass”

[writingwithcolor]

LA's Asian Locations

Hello! I’m Kore, I’m Korean, Thai, and Chinese, and live in LA. I’m going to be sending some other things in, in a seperate POC Profile, but this was getting long. But if anyone ever is writing about Asians in LA(since there are… you know… a lot of Asians in LA), or just LA in generally and want to have their character visit one of parts of the city where more Asian people live, here is a small guide to most of them. 

Westside

Asian-Americans in LA have a shit ton of places you can go. To begin with is the Westside. This is the area near the Ocean, but isn’t directly on it generally. It’s called the Westside, because it’s almost the western most part of LA. On the Westside there’s Little Persia, with a lot of Persian food, and UCLA. This is specifically called Westwood, but we also call it the Westside. So hah. But because of UCLA there ends up being more East Asians around here because of UCLA, because of this, there’s a super strong East Asian presence around here with a lot of restaurants and stuff. In Mar Vista around here, there’s also a Chinese School that’s super big and popular.

Little Osaka

Then there’s Little Osaka, technically still part of the Westside, also technically called Sawtelle because it’s like three, maybe four, blocks of Sawtelle Blvd. But Little Osaka deserves a special mention of it’s own. This is the first of two Japanese areas in LA, however, Little Osaka also has a lot of Korean things, with many Korean people running Japanese stores. Little Osaka, is super popular to just mostly get food. There’s nothing actually to do here? But hey, food.

Koreatown

Next is Koreatown. So this place is almost in the heart of LA, it’s about 30 min to an hour from the Westside in terms of driving. This is half residential and half not. It’s 100% lit at night. In the heart of Koreatown we’ve got a lot of night clubs, and places to drink. On the peripherals, it’s dead at night. But there’s good food, and a lot of supermarkets. Around 60k Koreans live here alone. There are a lot more than that in LA. Around here is also Little Bangledesh. I’ve never actually been, but that’s also mostly made up of Korean people. Recently Little Bangledesh tried to take over half of Koreatown and make it into little Bangledesh, but was defeated in a vote, as Korean people really didn’t appreciate that. 

Right outside of here is Wilshire Korean School, which is a bilingual private school that has Korean School on Saturdays. This is one of maybe… three? Proper Korean schools in LA, most people just home teach their kids Korean. There are two supermarkets here. Galleria and HMart, both of them in Plaza sort of places. Galleria’s has better food, and probably better shopping. But HMart is the OG Asian supermarket and is near two really awesome desert places. One of them you can get a sweet bread, shaped like a fish, filled with ice cream and either red bean, custard, or nutella, and the other one you can get patbingsoo at, or Korean shaved ice.

Little Tokyo

There’s also Little Tokyo. Which I don’t think I’ve ever been to, odd, since I’ve lived in LA my whole life. But I mostly keep to Koreatown and the Westside too.

Chinatown(s)

Okay now for the Chinatowns. So there’s technically one, and that’s in the middle of LA. But let me tell you, that’s not Chinatown. It was, once upon a time, however, a lot of Chinese people moved out of there and to either Alhambra, or Montery Park. So we’ve got Old Chinatown, New Chinatown, and Chinatown. Now I can’t remember whether Montery Park or Alhambra is Old or New, but these are both out a bit a ways from the Chinatown in the middle of LA. 

In that Chinatown, all the festivals are thrown. It’s also tiny. Alhambra is a lot more laid out than Montery, which is super laid out. But Montery Park, and Alhambra, have got great food. Also no social lives, but great great food. There’s a supermarket here, when you leave the heart of Chinatown, and walk for maybe 10 minutes, that’s probably the biggest Thai supermarket I’ve ever seen. I mean… You can buy so much coconut sugar here. It's insane.

Thaitown

There’s also Thaitown!! Which is closer to Koreatown than both Old and New Chinatown. This is where you can get a lot of Thai Food, and products. There’s not a lot to do here, and it’s mostly disappearing. But food. Really though, this place is super duper duper boring.

Little India

There’s Little India as well. It’s maybe three streets at most.

Little Saigon

Little Saigon is the heart and soul of the Vietnamese diaspora in LA. It’s beautiful, and actually really awesome. Unlike Thaitown though, you can get good Vietnamese food outside of it. They’ve got streetfood (illegal in LA technically), and a super duper ginourmous market that’s bigger than the biggest HMart that I’ve ever see. It’s so… big.

Everything else isn’t of much note, I’m not going to lie. I hope you’ve enjoyed this guide! I enjoyed writing it for sure.

More PoC Profiles here

Commentary

I’m assuming much of the above is confined to Los Angeles (City) proper. Because much of the Asian population in LA moves pretty fluidly between cities, here are my additions for LA County as a whole (including some key LA landmarks that were left out).

Torrance, Gardena and parts of Culver City: Home to the largest Nikkei and Japanese expat population in LA. This used to be the homebase for Toyota America until they moved their HQ close to their factories in Texas. However, many other Japanese companies still use this region for their American homebases, and as such the biggest Japanese grocery chains (Nijiya, Tokyo Central and Mitsuwa) all operate their largest Californian stores here. This region also has sizable Korean, SE Asian and S. Asian communities. One of LA’s more popular Indian grocers (Samosa House) is based in Culver City. Asahi Gakuen, a Japanese Saturday language school designed to help Japanese American kids keep up with the Japanese national curriculum, is also based here.

San Gabriel Valley aka 626: This includes not only Alhambra, Montebello and Monterey Park, but also Arcadia, Covina, West Covina, San Gabriel, Duarte, El Monte, Commerce, Asuza and Chino). It’s a pretty big, diverse place home to a large number of diaspora in various waves from Taiwan, mainland China, Hong Kong, Vietnam, Thailand, Malaysia and South Asia. The annual 626 Night Market (a street food fair) is held near the Santa Anita racetracks. When I was a kid, most of my lion dance jobs for the Lunar New Year were in Old Chinatown, but they have all since moved here. The diversity in cuisine is incredible. To get a sense of just how many different types of food there are out here, I recommend reading old reviews by the late, great Jonathan Gold from the LA Times.

Glendale and Pasadena: Large Armenian and Persian communities. Lots of very good bakeries, restaurants and also Armenian evangelical churches.

Artesia and Norwalk: Little India, basically, but there are also large Vietnamese and Filipino communities. Pioneer Blvd. in Artesia in particular has many Indian, Pakistani and Bangladeshi grocers, restaurants and clothing shops.

All of the cities I have mentioned have things like language schools, religion and culture centers, grocers, restaurants, etc. specific to the communities I’ve described above.

Religion (Major landmarks):

Hinduism: Venkateswara Temple - Malibu; Shri Swaminarayan Mandir Temple - Chino Hills;

Buddhism: Zen Center Los Angeles - Koreatown; Koyasan Betsuin - Little Tokyo; Nishi Honganji - Little Tokyo; Higashi Honganji - Little Tokyo; Zenshuji Soto Mission - Little Tokyo; Guan Di temple - Old Chinatown

Taoism: Thien Hau Temple - Old Chinatown

Shintoism: Konko Church - Boyle Heights, Gardena, Whittier

There are also many gurdwaras and mosques spread out throughout LA County (North Hollywood in particular for LA proper), but I’m not saying where they are because humanity is terrible.

Addendums for Little Tokyo:

Japanese American Museum: Covers the history of Japanese Americans in the US, internment during WWII and Little Tokyo. Also provides assistance to families looking to review historical, declassified records about interned relatives.

Nihonmura Plaza: main setting for festivals for Tanabata, Obon and New Years. Has a nifty looking traditional Japanese fire tower

Kinokuniya: LA branch of a major Japanese bookstore chain

Addendums for Koreatown:

Dawooljung/ Korean Pavilion: A gazebo and open space across the street from the Seoul International Park and the Koreatown Community Center

Schools for Eastern Medicine/ Acupuncture: There are at least 2 schools in Koreatown for Eastern/ Chinese/ Alternative medicine that quite a few Asian Americans who run their own clinics have trained at.

LA is so big and so diverse that there’s no one way to really capture how much of Asia is represented here. I know our county registrar and DMV offers information in Armenian, Chinese, Cambodian/Khmer, Farsi, Korean, Tagalog/Filipino, Vietnamese, Hindi/ Urdu, and Japanese because at least 5% of the voting population speaks each of those languages. I’d love to see further additions from other Asian Los Angelenos.

- Marika.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

hmm here’s me talking about su sort of lmao like i said i’m not here to be particularly scentamentle?? just say funney stories....and some opinions.....it’s really been a hot minute and i haven’t been making Long text posts about things so i can throw one out there even if it’s got no thesis statement

also like i said i just so happened to like, actually watch the first ep on actual tv when it actually premiered....all i super remember knowing about it beforehand was like “oh rebecca sugar getting her own series right on” and i was gonna check it out on that alone and then also i remember before it debuted there was an article about it in the wapo in the sort of “local”-ish section b/c it was like. hey this is based in uh yknow the dmv....delmarva area.....this whole Region.....and i (from nova and in nova at that time, and flipping thru the print wapo every day) was like haha. neat. also god damn it was 2013, hell of a year. i can tell you little about it b/c it was so crappy i just like did not bother much with things like “distinct memories” lmfao. great to have like, a weekly thing towards the end of that hot mess (november??? or smthing??) back when....god........it aired weekly.........anyways yeah i was pleasantly surprised from the start i don’t Get when people are like “can’t watch this in order :/ the first few eps don’t sell it well” like okay speak for yourself god dman....more on that later i’m sure lmfao. hot takes

my brother started watching it too just cuz he’s game for shit that way and i was keeping up with it. like i remember i thought cheeseburger backpack was extra fun and i think i showed him a rerun and i remember he thought it was funny lol the Raft Gag......and when i was watching tiger millionaire i kept For Real Laughing and he came over like what is going on.....and i think he was signed on from there........again pretty fun for it to be this weekly thing. also maybe i’m not here to be Sentamental but i was also like “oh no that Spoke to my feelings unexpected :(” during tiger millionaire when amethyst was all “you can’t let anyone make you feel like garbage” and “i only feel how i wanna feel” like guess who was in the early stages of “my self esteem is so crappy it’s starting to circle around into [trying to increase self esteem]”.........like i said hell of a time. though then that’d be 2014 by then i think?? still a hell of a time

started to get “i think i will draw the same character one million times” about it at some point in 2014 too lmfao......every instance of [me drawing the same shit one million times], which is the only way i ever draw anything, then like, benefits whatever i draw later cuz like. sure get some practice out of it. and even though like, it wasn’t quite as huge an Internet Thing as it was gonna get once i started to draw shit, it was already like, classic-me Kinda Niche to be like “hey gang who is going ham about the bored dumbass teens”....not so niche that there weren’t other people going “yeah i am” at any given time tho. and then we put our hands in the middle and go Yeah!! and jump up hsm style. it was also a great time for something Fun and (easier than marble hornets lol) to draw b/c. it simply was a good time for it.....struggling to draw shit back then even more than is like, usual. oh and also i forget but i had sort of Withdrawn from the mh fanbase b/c it got this whole influx of randos after fjsfdking the Video Game we all know the one and i was like. i am gonna.....sidle over here. nobody Likes to be in a fandom actually lmfao. and i mean even while su was getting to be A Whole Thing i was like. bro i am over here in the Donuts section and it is a little quieter and i use the tag sometimes but i’m all set, thanks. still the least Niche niche i’ve been in probably lmfao....see: the fact that probably still way most of my followers are here from su times even tho idk who’s even active still

also had a high time making some great Long Text Posts. i kind of always fail 2 grasp that even as much as my drawings that stuff leads to me actually getting to interact with people, b/c like, those text posts have me actually saying Words in them, which helps lmfao..........i think it’s like, these posts are probably Not That Fun for most people, but then for the people who Are like “oh sweet this is something that i actually want,” that’s obviously a helpful way to find a kindred spirit lmao.....like hey cool you already know i can’t shut up and am opinionated and obviously a lil much? fantastic let’s do this. plus idk it’s fun to Not Shut Up Actually. like, not the biggest deal. ppl can just Scroll Past. or not

speaking of “getting practice Not Shutting Up and Drawing Shit”.......hilarious when in late 2018 i find myself like. oh so you’re telling me this excellent character who is a self-sabotaging struggling-to-know-how-to-cope-with-shit-and-connect-with-others insecure af Teen is not appreciated / ignored / deemed Awful (and then ignored) by the majority of the fanbase?????? hahaha you don’t say....but No Problem. let me just talk about how this person has Complexity actually and is a lot more sympathetic than not and i hate all of you omg like do we have to do all of this ourselves lmfao........guess so, Fine

what am i talking about funny stories who is this funny to lmfao. okay no but okayyy what an experience when the island adventure preview came out and for like the next 4 days i did not experience depression lmao........i Jumped on the opportunity b/c it was like, early fall i wanna say??? i think sept?? 2014 and i was kinda mulling over going to gmx (which was this convention the Marble Hornets gang kept getting invited to & i’d been 2 twice b4 but missed the previous yr coz it was 2013 and i was way not thriving) and yeah jumped on the “depression / (as much) anxiety who???” superpower to Ask if it was cool if i went to a friend’s wedding in georgia for a weekend. there was no friend’s wedding in georgia. and then i went to gmx AND. ironically (not really im sure. idk what irony means and idc) gmx weekend ended up being the same weekend island adventure actually aired and when i left that morning (gmx being in nashville) my lil bro (getting up for school) was like GO GO and i actually made it in time to catch it in the hotel room but. they didn’t have the channel despite it being listed on the channel guide. i about flipped lmfao but i did see it later that weekend and flipped again. gmx was an a-okay time as well lmao that was the last time i made it

they may have never sold a licensed Lars S1 Green/Purple Snake Tee but look when i have this green racerback with a neat snake print & this necklace of purple quartz crystals and also when i was at gmx i bought this necklace with one (non purple, non actual crystals but plastic shaped like it / glossed) pendant In The Spirit Of It All and it gets compliments. anyways the point is. indirectly representing

speaking of crystals = lars i’d just like to reiterate that i’m always right. like sure i was like “look i don’t know how lars could have Crystal Magic in him but something is up with the fact he’s = pink magic flowers with crystals inside them Means Something.” i think it’s reasonable to Not have predicted he dies and gets revived w/ crystal magic that’s in him now. but that’s still a Win for realizing somethings up....tfw as early as like s2 times i’d be like “well the donuts gotta get involved in the center of adventure at Some point and also i Know it is important that steven is just lars’s rly annoying little brother and y/n do you think lars would die to protect him i think he would...” like. i didn’t wanna be That right :/

tfw me and my brother were watching rose’s scabbard while my mom was napping it out in the armchair and like silently Sharing A Look at the whole “she was beautiful” thing like. lol harold

i still don’t know how much of a Thing(tm) magfest is but as far as i can figure it it’s No Comic Con (like, thank god :| ) but still kind of a thing. anyways i learned of it cuz i saw there was gonna be a couple su panel thingies & i looked it up & we were less than an hour away and so it was like midnight but i ask my brother like hey wanna swing by this thing on this one friday. and he was like Sure. so i made it happen and he was 17 so we had to drag our dad to the bank to Notarize a form that he was allowed to be there accompanied by me. it was a big place and it also took us a while to find Registration or whatever and when we tried getting sandwiches later it cost like $7 each go figure. anyways but we were just there for the one Event & there was a room like filled with arcade games and a bunch of other consoles (also Retro though. like old computers n stuff) and they had Galaga, thank fucking god. we 2 playered that shit and wandered around and also 2 playered a game called toobin, which was funny. real gamers know. 

when we were in the (pretty long) Line to get into the Panel, i actually like. spotted a then-mutual who i (was pretty sure i) recognized from her occasional selfie lol and who i guess had travelled all the way from the west coast for the weekend. when we were actually Seated she happened to be a couple rows back and both of us on the end of the aisle and i asked my brother if he could read her nametag (to verify lol) and i bopped over to have the cringe and fail exchange of “hey do you have a Tumblr” and then i was like “haha i’m milo i’m ummmwine” and she got up to hug me and then i had to scamper back to my seat cuz shit was starting lol

like my life was not changed by this event but we had fun and. the Hilarious story is that it was also partially a Q&A and i had a Q and my brother encouraged me by again whispering “go go” as soon as the first syllable was spoken implying Line up For Questions.....i was in like, the last idk, haaalf dozen or so ppl who made it to the mic? and look i knew i was gonna be asking a niche question that like 3 other people of the hundreds in the room would care about but So What. deal with it gang, let’s have some Variety. but i was still nervous. and when i’m nervous, i a) Have A Script and b) get even chattier. and right after the person Right In Front Of Me got their answer, i guess it was noticed that it was getting down to the wire so they were like “haha okay lightning round :)” and i was like NO.......GOD..........lmfao like too late im sorry i Can’t make it lightning round. i was muy anxious.....just that, again, hundreds of people there, i have the floor, nobody’s gonna Like my quastion......and they didn’t know the answer (which i figured was v possible lol) so i was like oh no sklfjd hope this entire room doesn’t hate me. i mean of course i didn’t care if they did too much but, Nerves....also im valid, but were the like half dozen people who asked prior to me about shit that would CLEARLY be too spoilery to answer valid????? no lmfao. cmon. that’s what’s Really cringe

well here we ffw a bit b/c Mid To Late 2015 is certainly a time for me and it doesn’t really make for an interesting story so just to tldr it lmao like, got some beautiful moral support from someone as i was makin a Lifestyle Change lol and continued to get beautiful moral support from that same person and i continue to benefit from it....You know who you are!!!! tyvvm....and it occurred to me that the reason i am where i physically am is via someone i met thru su-posting.......which is true of the You Know who you are person too, which is why i brought it up lmao

uhh god not as many Stories after that lol.....def got to engage in “i’m ___ i’m gonna [draw the same character i always draw] so i won’t be so ___” during interesting times lol. love that for me

tbh the uh. Wanted arc was truly one of the best Serial Arcs, just dramatic & solid af and also it’s lars time and for a second i go “god well at least maybe now ppl will acknowledge lars is a gr8 character” and then a second later i go “Oh No they’ll only say he’s a good character *Now*” and that’s exactly what happened lmfao but well we still got as much lars fanart as we ever got outside that couple weeks aftermath... l o l . . . i had to wait One Zillion Years for my little brother to catch up to this b/c. he was watching via hulu i think where like, a full season would come out a good while after the finale. seriously i think it took him almost 2 years. im like dammit lmfao this is What Matters dfslk....fond memories when hulu was free / no login req’d / shit would be available like the day after airing

uhhhHHH crazy how this show muscled through the weird scheduling change where it was like “no weekly eps Only Erratic Hiatuses”......ppl were so foolishly Into the first “5 eps in a row” release and i was like “no i don’t like this” and then a year later i was like “you see. You See.” rip

i think we can even ffw to sutm at that point lol....im like im in this for lars okay lmfao kinda Shrugggg @ things by this point lol like finale shminale. where’s he at. and i really wasn’t paying a world of attention to like, prior-to-release lore n announcements so i was just plunged into this chaos of like sorry???? excuse me?? of all the people in the world sarah stiles?????? lfsdj like noooo don’t show me these tweets lmfao......truly it’s fine i’m being Hilarious but it’s also very real that like, when i see things like “showtime(tm)” or “SHO” or “billions content” i’m just doused with Dread b/c i hate this series lmao i swear to christ. but it’s really Fine lmfao like. i was kinda “eh :/” to “yea this is alright” about the rest of it but spinel was The Highlight lmfao and having $50 to go ham on her animation was great but really the voice acting Made It.....like the entire takeaways was uh the other friends sequence and fuckin uhh this part. fuck it up ms. stiles........hit it out of the park..........cain was the first funny bitch and spinel was the second. that thought just came to me and i will not elaborate. call that a revelation. oh and also it was a relief cuz i was like “i s2g if this Antagonist is like, aquamarine-style annoying af....i will die” but No. spinel is annoying af in another way which is her rights and i don’t want to die about it lmfao. she’s good.......i don’t even resent the “how come whenever some rando shows up ready to literally kill everyone for no good reason, all of you are ready to be like ‘wow an icon’ and we can’t have 10% of that energy for the teen who’s kinda bitchy b/c he’s annoyed by life and crap???” thing b/c i mean, she had her whole Arc all at once and also is good enough for it i think. the nadir was when the one rando shows up for like One episode like “i Don’t want to kill everyone :3 syke >:)” and for some reason people were like “omg iconic. call them on their ‘don’t kill everyone’ bullshit” like lol i hate you guys

well i like lars’s [last outfit we see him in] and i feel like it only backs up the bi agenda. another epic gamer moment had been when it became a Popular Hc that lars is trans b/c he is lmao. and everyone was all “why is everyone sayign this why would you want him to be trans he sucks” like get good grandma!!!!!!!! it’s too late. well that’s the end of my post. me in 2014 being like “wow way to have something to keep up with b/c now i have to outlive it to get all the dnads content i guess” and here i am. but it’s almost April 2020 so. haha 

hmm what’s a less ominous ending. oh shit another thing that was funny is i was like So about these Skull Plugs featured in this semi-official drawing of lars once and then horror club came out (fun b/c i like horror) and had the skull plugs for Real & they were glow in the dark. that was a big day for me even seeing the promos lmfao. except then i guess it was foreshadowing, so again i end this with Death. don’t we all

wait no lsfdjs What tf was matthew moy talking about “i like your hair.” dude dropping an i-guess cut line on us lmfao. alright alright im done

[donnerpartyofone]

TL;DR - i finally got an MRI for my ear, which has been fucked up and constantly clogged since september and developed tinnitus in february, and apparently, supposedly, there is nothing wrong with it. so there’s nothing to do about it. so just like with my eye and my skin and my lung and my etc, i have a problem that i can’t do anything about, that i can’t even get the satisfaction of a diagnosis for, and i’m so pissed off about how much time and energy i’ve spent trying to improve things for myself when there was absolutely no point in doing so, that i just want to set my body on fire to really show it what i think of it.

i’m so, so mad. the last couple of months have been almost nothing but wall to wall doctor’s appointments, and with zero exception, they have all been a complete waste of time. it hurts because my body tortures me, of course, but it hurts worse than that because i convinced myself that i HAD to do this, that it was Mature to face my fear of doctors and generally the Right Thing to Do, when i absolutely didn’t want to do any of this at all.

i suffer a lot from an internalized impression of myself as being lazy, defeatist, and dramatic. it comes from a lot of places. i grew up in an environment where i was the only open depression sufferer, under one parent who definitely considered depression to be an antisocial behavioral problem, to be treated like any other shallow cry for attention. i also grew up in an environment full of obvious talents, all of whom would go on to be published, or even public figures, and not to be a complete asshole, but the idea that “you can do anything you put your mind to” is kept alive by people who have the baseline talent necessary to succeed at things they put their minds to. if you subscribe to the idea that success requires nothing other than commitment, then the implication is that all failure is a matter of laziness, petulance, and defeatism--never lack, never inferiority, never ordinariness. on top of all this, my personal interests--horror, sexually graphic media, comics, underground music movements, the usual roundup of morbid or antisocial cultural items--were considered pretty much...well, not very adult. so what i’m coming to is that if i can’t prove my adulthood in any way that has to do with who i am or what i’m capable of, then the very least i can do is Be Responsible. (and of course i get made fun of all the time for being an uptight rule follower but JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, LITERALLY WHAT ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO DO)

one of the main ways you can Be Responsible, if you have the means that is, is to look after your health. the world is full of icky, boring, degrading, depersonalizing, and occasionally painful tasks that are necessary to keep the societal cogs turning. if you can’t make art or have ideas or be beautiful or become an athlete or whatever, you can still show that you’re alive and generally hygienic by going to the dmv, voting, showing up for jury selection, or going to the doctor. you can still grasp the final shred of integrity offered to you by doing things no one wants to do, but that we know are necessary for the vitality of self and society. so i’m extra good at doing stuff that people my age frequently shirk--the dentist appointments, the doing your taxes the second the forms come in, etc--because they’re sort of the only things i can do that prove that i’m not, you know, a complete piece of shit.

so this year, at the start of february, i decided i was going to get a real handle on my health. i’d been going to doctors for various things already, of course, even though it was pretty much never satisfying; the only thing i can think of that ever got fixed or explained was the pathological growth of scar tissue over my eyeballs, which required some pretty fucked up surgery. but at this time, i had a lot of problems building up. my left eye developed a small spot, and a constant glare that borders on having double vision. my right ear remained completely stuffed up since i had a cold last fall, and began to ring constantly at the end of the winter. my right lung has felt alarmingly tight and weak for...years actually. the right side of my face is constantly beet red, like i go fresh with somebody’s wife, and i can see how it’s thickening and bending my flesh all out of shape, which rosacea will do progressively and incurably throughout your entire life. i decided that instead of quaking in fear of doctors, and also in fear of wasted time, i was going to straighten my back and go nip this shit in the bud. after all, when you’re miserable but not doing anything about it, people kind of hate you, and then you have THAT problem on top of all your real problems. sometimes you gotta give the people what they want.

so how did it all go?

my skin: since no insurance company considers rosacea a medical problem, which is actually complete fucking bullshit, i decided to take matters into my own hands. i researched what rich people do for their uninsurable problem, and decided to use my recent (traumatic) inheritance to take care of myself. i tried three different preposterously expensive topical treatments that i was told are a “magic bullet” for rosacea, and all of them made my face blow up like a fucking macy’s day balloon. then, after four rounds of extremely expensive, painful and scary laser treatments, i had absolutely no results other than that my face was actually MORE reactive for about a month after the last one. i’m fucked.

my eye: according to my optometrist and ophthalmologist and corneal specialist it’s “just” regular scar tissue from my terrifying surgeries, not the pathological scar tissue that i had to have removed via terrifying surgery and localized chemotherapy. this kind of sucks because it means i can’t just get it removed again, but at least there is a slight chance that my body will reabsorb it like regular scar tissue. (oh yeah? and what’s my luck USUALLY like?) my only “treatment option” is to use eyedrops four times a day, which is actually extremely uncomfortable, and which pretty much means i’m just not allowed to wear makeup ever again.

my lung: after two rounds of clear x-rays and a breathing test that only detected slight asthma, through two GPs and a pulmonologist, nobody has anything to say about why i have this chronic breathing problem. there’s some indication that it might be a “muscular-skeletal problem” that’s putting pressure on the one lung, so i guess i need to add a physical therapist or something to my endless list of specialists.

my ear: two or three trips to urgent care (i forget how many now), two GPs, an ENT, a fucking weird hearing test, and an MRI have done absolutely nothing for me. after a cold with a sinus/ear infection last fall, my right ear remained permanently slammed shut; if i pop it, it closes back up in seconds. i do not have the same problem with the other ear, it is clearly a physical problem. in february, my ear began to ring agonizingly and has not stopped for a second. in all this time, i went through round after round of antibiotics, antihistamines, anti-inflammatories, steroids, etc. nothing works. no one can see any type of problem. apparently i have the option of electing to have a tube surgically inserted into my ear, although i can’t quite figure out what the risk factor is, both for my tinnitus, and for my hearing in general. 

and OF COURSE, depression: part of the stigma against depression is that it’s a choice, somehow. like fresh air and exercise and looking on the bright side are so effective that if you’re depressed, it must be because you LIKE IT THAT WAY, because otherwise you would use these simple and free cures for your so-called illness and it would be all over, right? anyway i kind of hate being depressed, and i’ve been working my fucking ass off trying to deal with it. i see a nutritional therapist (a licensed psychiatrist) who prescribed me a number of nutritional supplements that i do think help, but they are unthinkably hard on my stomach. i tried lexapro, and it made me feel so abnormal, and cut into my general quality of life so badly, that i didn’t keep it up. i tried a generic version of wellbutrin, and it made me violently sick to my stomach, and caused my ringing ear to ring deafeningly for days after a single dose. the brand name version wasn’t much better. then i tried lamictal, and felt totally great AND NORMAL for like a week, and then i got the rare and potentially deadly lamictal rash. sometimes this just indicates a basic allergy, and sometimes it indicates Stevens-Johnson Syndrome which causes something called TOXIC EPIDERMAL NECROLYSIS WHICH REQUIRES LONG TERM HOSPITALIZATION TO GROW YOUR SKIN BACK. i had to deal with this on the day of mandatory final exam presentations in a class where i was already struggling, and this was one of the darkest days i can recently remember. after this, my psychiatrist tried to prescribe me abilify, but after i started to hear about the side effects and personal testimony of certain friends, i decided i couldn’t handle it. very possibly, i just cannot be medicated for depression, unless i’m willing to sacrifice everything else around the depression too. 

...this is all pretty much a retread of an experience i had for a few years, a few years ago, where i was having these abnormal paps, so they constantly had to drill painful core samples out of my cervix to keep checking up on the NOTHING that was going on in there, until one day they were just like...uh your tests are coming back fine now, and we don’t know why they didn’t before, and it just doesn’t matter, you don’t have to do this anymore PLUS you could have just been sitting on your couch jerking off this entire time and it would have done exactly as much good as this cycle of being humiliated and tortured by doctors in a while that leaves you curled up in a ball sobbing every time. i’m still pretty pissed off about it, if you can’t tell.

so like i don’t know why the fuck i’m doing all this. i don’t know why i do anything. nothing fucking comes from even my most herculean effort except a relentless sense of mystery that is starting to border on satire. i don’t know why i have so many problems. i’m 38 years old and i’m in ok shape. i don’t have generalized immune issues or anything. my doctor said i have some of the best lab work she’s ever seen. why the fuck does all this shit happen to me. i’m trying so fucking hard to enjoy my life. it’s hard to be in mental and physical pain all the time, the latter for absolutely no coherent reason. i mean i’d rather have a bunch of random problems than like, lupus or MS or something, for sure, but everything that happens to me is so meaningless and arbitrary, i’m starting to get that feeling like god hates me. it’s also hard to have the constant feeling that so many people think that failure to enjoy life is exclusively a matter of “not trying hard enough”, being a pill, looking for attention. i don’t know what to do anymore. i’m real pissed. i think what i need is a change of philosophy, which will be a long hard road. at least i know it’s the one and only area where i, and only i, have some level of control. wish me luck.

[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald

I had a friend create a 10-category, 50-question Harry Potter trivia quiz for my 30th birthday. I have a Ravenclaw tattoo that takes up most of my right forearm. I’ve helped orchestrate an HP-themed baby shower. I’ve held multiple HP movie marathons. And when we were first dating and Wife told me she’d never read the books, I legitimately cried and then blocked it from my memory. When she told me for the second time, months later, I cried again. 

One could say I’m a fan of the wizarding world. 

So here we are, at the second entry in the second wizarding franchise, and the only question really worth answering is, is this a world that’s still worth visiting? Well...

Imagine someone you love - it could be anyone, but as an example I’ll use your best friend. Imagine your BEST friend, whom you’ve shared so much with, whom you’ve gone through ups and downs with. That one. Now imagine that every few months, your best friend’s mom sends you a text, or calls you, or puts up a billboard in your town that seems to be actively trying to get you to hate your best friend. Things like “She kicks puppies” or “One time, she made fun of a homeless man until he cried” or “She told me she wants to set fire to a hospital.” Like, real fucked up stuff. Would you maintain a relationship with that friend? With them both? Or would you cut ties completely and just hold onto the memories of the friendship you used to have?

I’m genuinely asking, because J.K. Rowling seems hellbent on shitting all over the things I love in some twisted effort to make me utterly baffled and repulsed by the world she has created. I never thought I’d say this, but Johnny Depp is the least of this movie’s problems, so welcome to Whose Crime Is It Anyway? where the timelines are made up and the plot points don't matter.

A spoilery summary! Our favorite Hufflepuff Newt Scamander (Eddie Redmayne) is asked by Hot Dumbledore (Jude Law) to go to Paris and find Credence (Ezra Miller). You remember Credence, the sweet emo boy from the first movie whose death functioned as the climax of the film? JK JK death is meaningless and impermanent here! It’s the roaring 20s, everyone’s drunk. Newt needs to find him because Grindelwald (Johnny Depp, doing his best impression of day-old potato salad) is also looking for him. Credence is the subject of a prophecy that everyone’s familiar with but the audience, you see, and he’s currently trapped in a Parisian street circus with a woman/snake named Nagini (Claudia Kim, and yes, THAT Nagini). Jacob and Queenie (Dan Fogler and Alison Sudol) also show up again, because they were in the first movie too so they have to be here for this. Jacob’s memory has been restored because...~handwavey reasons~ and Queenie decides to join The Mayonnaise Man’s cause as a wizard Nazi because...she wants to marry a Muggle. Somehow I think she didn’t read the whole orientation flyer. Leta Lestrange (Zoe Kravitz) is engaged to Newt’s brother, Theseus (Callum Turner) but is mostly hanging around to look sad and reveal that Credence couldn’t be her long-lost brother because she killed her long-lost brother by switching him with another baby on a ship right before it sank at sea. And she’s right, Credence isn’t her brother - he’s gone over to the dark side, where the vaguely human amalgamation of cauliflower rice tells him he’s the long-lost brother of Albus Dumbledore! Because why the fuck not, nothing else in this goddamn thing makes any sense anyway.

I would also like to point out I left out at least 40 more characters, many of whom seem to be important but are never named or introduced in any way.

SEVERAL thoughts:

Visually, this world is stunning. The set designers have done an incredible job showcasing new magical settings in rich, vivid detail. The Parisian street circus and the French Ministry of Magic building were particular favorites of mine.

Likewise, the 1927-era costumes are drop-dead gorgeous. This franchise should really be called Fantastic Coats and Where to Find Them.

50 galleons seems so steep. I wonder what the wizarding inflation rate is.

Snakes can fit through bars of cages...

Performances - Redmayne is sweet, but virtually shoved out of the way in his own franchise; Kravitz is cold and removed - is that acting choice secret pain or constipation? Hard to say; Fogler is underutilized, especially after being the emotional MVP of the first film; Sudol is fractured and manic, completely devoid of her earnest warmth from before; Miller barely gets 3 lines, and mostly looks like he’s about to cry; Law is fine as hell and kindly and wise and doesn’t give off weird “I’m going to use children as sacrificial lambs without telling them or anyone else about it” vibes, so that’s already a big step up from the Dumbledore we get in the books; and then there’s Johnny. Johnny “lightly braised tofu” Depp is giving one of his most understated performances in years, to the point that he’s almost...boring? Most genocidal fuckheads are at least compelling speakers, but this dehydrated turnip just sort of glides about, while his followers do dastardly things for him. He doesn’t even kill his own toddlers, he outsources it to his followers. Does nobody believe in honest, hard work anymore? 

Basically all of the details - the set dressing, the costumes, the overall aesthetics and feel of the film - are beautifully realized. However, the foundation is made of smoke and sand and the distant sound of JKR’s maniacal laughter.

Cast and endorse an accused abuser who is teetering on the brink of public collapse? Check. Include outdated Orientalism cliches by casting an East Asian woman as mysterious, dangerous, and literally snake-like? Check. How about a white imperialist Imperius-ing Leta Lestrange's (black African) mother and literally forcing her into sex slavery with no follow-up or reflection on the part of the film or its characters? Check. It’s like some sort of perverse bingo game she’s playing to try to alienate everyone who might have seen themselves in the Harry Potter universe as belonging, because they understood what it was like to be an outsider, to be abused, to be shunned and made fun of and ostracized. Cause fuck all those people, amirite?

And that’s just the offensive choices from a purely political standpoint. How about the offensive choices regarding more trivial matters like linear time and space - like Dumbledore teaching Transfiguration, not DAtDA. Or like Professor MacGonagall being born in 1935, yet somehow teaching at Hogwarts in 1927. People apparating inside Hogwarts. Complete reversals of characters’ personalities and motivations. Characters being introduced and never seen again (where did Bunty go?? Did she die???) Characters NOT being introduced and never seen again (what up Jessica Williams, super psyched that you’re here, sure would be neat if I knew who the fuck you were playing or why that person was important!) If the references are meant for fans’ benefit, it fucking BACKFIRED, because most HP fans I know aren’t looking for a convoluted soap opera where babies are switched, people have secret brothers, everyone's amnesia gets reversed, and people come back from the dead.

Now that I think about it, the practice of confronting a boggart is super problematic. Like people have traumas. It's not all spiders and snakes, Dumbledore! God, Hogwarts pedagogy is shit.

I’m still not convinced that Jude Law’s tasty Daddy Dumbledore could possibly still be in love with this tuna salad sandwich from a vending machine at the DMV. That flashback in the Mirror of Erised is supposed to be full of longing but all I could think was, “is this how straight people think gay sex works?” Would have loved to hear that day in the writer’s room. “Maybe we could have them kiss?” “Too gay. What if they exchange blood vows and hold hands to form a magical amulet?” “Nailed it.” *everyone high fives and chugs a Red Bull* 

There’s just...so much. So much that I wish were different. I don’t quite know how it’s possible for a film to explain both too much and not enough, but here we are. The Crimes of Grindlewald isn’t just a title, it’s a prophecy of what audiences are forced to endure here - it’s not just separating art from artist, it’s not just cultural exploitation and othering, it’s not just queer erasure, it’s not just overplotted and underwhelming narrative, it’s not just cheap shocks and winking references. The rap sheet just keeps getting longer and longer, and I have to wonder when, if ever, Rowling will atone for these crimes.

[nonstandardrepertoire]

So You Want To Change Your Name

All right! So you've questioned your gender, tried a bunch of alternatives with your friends, and settled on a new name for your new self. Now you’re ready to take the next step: Officially changing your legal name. Congratulations! A name change is a routine legal procedure that thousands of people do every year in this country alone. Follow the twelve steps outlined below, and you’ll be on your way in no time!

Fill out a petition for an adult name change. Hesitate when it asks the reason for your name change. You are, of course, changing your name because you are trans, but you are also nonbinary, and the State of New York does not believe that nonbinary genders exist, and you worry that this could cause trouble in front of a judge. Decide to say, not untruthfully, that you are an artist working under a pen name, only the pen name grew and now everyone calls you that, and you would like your legal papers to reflect the de facto situation on the ground.

Sign this form in front of a Notary Public and bring it to the New York City Civil Court in the County of Kings (Brooklyn).

The instructions you have seen make it sound like you need only bring your birth certificate to file this form. You are suspicious of this information, so you will bring your photo ID and a utility bill (as proof of address) as well.

You will not bring your Social Security Card, however. The clerk at the court will take you to task for this, since the name on your card must match the name on your court order. If your Social Security Card bears the name “Brin R Solomon” but you print your name on your petition as “Brin Rose Solomon”, you will, apparently, be unable to change the name on your Social Security Card without a new court order for “Brin R Solomon”.

To drive this point home, your utility bill omits your middle name entirely, and the clerk thus insists that you add an “aka” to your petition: “Brin Rose Solomon, aka Brin Solomon”.

Do not ask how the government can determine that “Brin Solomon” and “Brin Rose Solomon” are the same for purposes of filing a name-change petition while being unable to make that determination for purposes of enacting that petition. You would probably be told that it is for your own protection. If you took a shot every time someone told you that they were erecting a barrier “for your own protection”, you would die of liver failure before even making it to the courthouse.

Go to the sixth floor and present your papers to the (overworked) clerk. If everything is in order, they will tell you to go to a different floor to pay the $65 filing fee. (This must be paid in cash, in exact change.) As with everything else, this will vary with jurisdiction. In LA, it would have been $495.

Once you have the receipt, return to the sixth floor and present it to the clerk, who will then assign your petition an index number, print your official petition, and make an appointment with a judge for a hearing. (The petition will clearly be a Word document in Times New Roman. You will seldom have seen anything that looks less official.) You have chosen to file in Brooklyn even tho you live in Manhattan because in Brooklyn you will usually see a judge on the day that you file. In Manhattan, the wait is 1-2 weeks. In LA, it was nine months.

Ascend to the eleventh floor, and find your assigned courtroom. It will be hushed and still, and there will not be helpful signs to guide you. Put your papers in a box that seems like the right one and take your seat. Wait.

The judge will be delayed due to a beer truck that crashed on the Long Island Expressway. She will enter and make a crack about the beer drinkers being sad in a thick Long Island accent. You will relax slightly that she seems to be in a good mood.

The judge will have several cases to hear before yours. While she is hearing one of these, a clerk of some sort will come and take your papers from the box where you left them. She will flip thru them at her desk, and you will try to tell whether her face carries disdain, incredulity, or merely bored indifference.

She will give your papers to the judge and you will be called forward. The judge will ask you a few basic questions. She will tell you that your name, “Brin”, reminds her “of the Old Country, of white gloves, fine china, and lace”. She will sign your petition, and say “Welcome to your new life.”.

Bring the signed form back to the clerk on the sixth floor. She will stamp it and give you instructions regarding publication. (There are ways to get out of the publication requirement, but they involve either also changing your legal gender marker (which you are not (yet) doing), or showing that you are at risk of harassment, stalking, or the like (which you are not), so you will have to publish.) You have chosen the Irish Echo, because, at $35, it is the cheapest option. (As with the time you must wait before seeing a judge, this will vary. In LA, the cheapest option was $95.)

The Irish Echo is a legit newspaper, but they also know their clientele, and when you walk in the door of their (hard-to-find) office on the second floor of a tiny building wedged impossibly between two others on Madison Avenue, you will be greeted by someone asking “Ah, you're here for a name change, then?”. Their fee must also be paid in cash.

You will have seen a judge on Monday, thus making it possible for you to publish a notice on Wednesday. While you can pick up proof of publication from the Irish Echo on that very Wednesday, you cannot present this proof to the court until Thursday. Presumably this is so that if anyone sees your name change and objects to it, they have a window of time to go to the court themself and make your life more difficult.

Once you have filed you proof of publication (on the sixth floor), you must go down to the room where you paid the initial filing fee to request certified copies of your petition. While you can, of course, photocopy the order yourself, only these certified copies count as Real, Official Name Change Orders. You will have done some research as to which places require certified copies vs a regular photocopy, but it will be surprisingly difficult to determine this from the internet alone. (Furthermore, you will later discover that some places that say they require certified copies do not, and vice versa.) You can always get more copies in future, but only in person from the court in Brooklyn, so you decide to err on the side of caution and get eight. They cost $6 each and take about an hour to print, despite the fact that nothing else seems to be occupying the clerks at the counter.

Congratulations! You now have a court order from the government allowing you to change your name! (NB that it is an order allowing you to change your name, not an order compelling people to recognize you by a new name. This will be important later.)

Go to a copy shop and make copies of your court order for the places that don’t require a certified copy. Splurge on color. You want them to be good copies. $17.

Expecting supreme lethargy from the federal government, go to the Social Security Administration to update your Social Security Card. (With relief, you will find that the name on your card matches the name on your court order exactly.) Check in at the kiosk, get a number, and wait for a very long time.

Your interaction with the agent from the Social Security Administration will be brief and nondescript. This process is free. Your new card will arrive in the mail in about a week’s time.

You will quickly discover that government agencies are the only places that will let you change your name without a government-issued photo ID showing your new name. Go to the DMV to obtain a new driver’s license. Realize that a New York State driver’s license requires you to bring your Social Security Card. Realize this while you are still waiting for your new one to come in the mail.

Go back the next week, Social Security Card in hand. You will by this point (see steps 7.1.1–2) have a letter from a Doctor in California stating that you “should be allowed to change [your] gender marker” on government documents. Take this letter with you and check the box marked “F” where the form asks for your gender. You will, after all, be signing to say the information is true and correct to the best of your knowledge and ability.

Check in at the kiosk. Get a number. Wait for a very long time.

Hand your papers to the clerk, along with your previous license. Get your photo taken. Wait.

The next clerk will be the one to actually process your application. They will tell you that the note from your doctor will not be returned, and you ask if they can copy it for you. They say that they will. They will be listening to music via earbuds and bopping along quite intensely. In fact, they will be so wrapped up in the song they are listening to that they will occasionally mumble lyrics aloud. Given the acoustics of the space, you will not be certain whether or not these are questions or comments directed at you. Stress.

Your application will be approved and you will receive a copy of your doctor’s note. This costs $65. You will be given a temporary license (which cannot be used for ID or for name change purposes) and told that your new license will come in two weeks.

Your license will not come in two weeks.

After four weeks, call to inquire as to its whereabouts. You will be told to call again if it hasn’t shown up after six weeks.

Sometime in the seventh week, call again. Several days later, you will receive two copies of your new license in the mail, as tho the initial copy got wedged in the outgoing mail chute, and your new copy dislodged it the day it was dispatched. Strangely, the photos will not be exactly identical. Decide on which one to keep and which to shred based on which photo you like better.

Congratulations! You are now ready to begin changing your name everywhere else.

Go to your bank and present them with your court order and your license. They will tell you that they cannot make a new card for you on site, but that one will be coming in the mail shortly. Double check with them that you can still use the old card, and fret every time you do about which signature you should use on the receipt. Request checks with your new name.

While you are waiting for your new bank card to arrive in the mail, someone will steal the info from your old card. Go to the same bank branch as before to sort this out. After they get over the confusion of your having two card numbers at the same time, they will go into the back and make a new bank card for you. The one they said they were mailing to you will never arrive.

A few weeks later, go back to the bank to get quarters for the laundromat. Inquire as to the status of your new checks. Be told that the order does not seem to have been placed, or perhaps it was cancelled in the identity theft kerfuffle. Request checks with your new name.

At the start of the next month, look over your bank statement. Notice that the online system is still using your old name, in a field you cannot change on your end. Call to inquire about this. Discover that they don't actually have a system for automatically transferring account name changes to the names used in their online system. The representative says they will change it for you.

Call again the next week when it still has not been changed. The representative says they will change it for you, and this time it works. Inquire as to the status of your new checks. Be told that no new order for checks has been placed. Insist that such an order should have been placed. The representative will grudgingly place the order for you, but will also explain that in future, there will be a fee for this. This time your checks will actually arrive. Burn the old ones.

Update your credit card. This will involve mailing a copy of your court order to Salt Lake City. Other than the postage, this is free.

Try to figure out how to change your name with the credit tracking bureaus. Come away with only confusion, doubt, and a renewed hatred for Debt Capitalism.

Updating Your Birth Certificate: International Brouhaha Edition:

You were born in Australia, so updating your birth certificate is going to require intercontinental government bureaucracy. Brace yourself.

Discover that Australia actually recognizes nonbinary genders. Moreover, they do not require you to take hormones or get surgery or live your life in any other way to change the gender marker on your documentation. Inexplicably, they will still require a letter from a doctor saying that you identify with the gender you are changing your marker to. (Remember, trans people are inherently devious and must be gatekept at every opportunity.)

Reach out to your doctor in California and acquire such a letter.

This process requires a valid driver's license. Wait for yours to come in the mail.

Realize that, while the guidelines for the recognition of sex and gender are set at the national level, they are implemented at the local level. You will be dealing with the office of Births, Deaths, and Marriages in the Australian Capital Territory. The ACT requires a signed form from your doctor certifying that you have undergone “appropriate clinical treatment” for the alteration of your sex. (This form must be notarized.)

Reach out to someone from the office of Births, Deaths, and Marriages in the ACT to ask what “appropriate clinical treatment” means for a nonbinary person in a legal system that explicitly and specifically has no medical requirements for legal gender changes. They will inform you in writing that all your doctor is certifying is that you “identify with a nonbinary gender”. These are the actual words they will use. (Remember, this form must be notarized.)

Refrain from pointing out that this form is literally meaningless. Refrain from questioning why it apparently takes years of advanced technical study in unrelated fields to hear the words coming out of a person's mouth and tell someone else about them.

Inform your doctor in California that you need this form signed instead of a letter, and reassure him that despite the “clinical treatment” language, he’s literally only certifying that you came in and said “Hey, so I’m nonbinary.”.

He will adamantly refuse to sign this form, claiming that under the United States legal system, it takes a psychologist to make a gender diagnosis, this despite the fact that he has already written a letter making the exact equivalent of such a “diagnosis”, and that the form from an Australian government is clearly not a part of the United States legal apparatus.

He will stop answering your e-mails.

Make an appointment at New York University. Bring the Australian Guidelines On The Recognition Of Sex And Gender as well as a printout of the e-mail where the person from the ACT office of Births, Deaths, and Marriages confirms that the “clinical treatment” mentioned in the form can comprise nothing more than you stating your identity to the doctor in question. 

The doctor will thank you for bringing all of these things in, then go out into the hallway to confer with someone higher up the chain of command. You will hear them repeatedly and unapologetically misgender you thru the door of the hospital room.

The doctor will ask for a few days to consult the legal department, but she will ultimately sign the form. She will message you to say that the notary wasn’t in, and suggest that you take the form to a notary to get it notarized.

You will have to explain to your doctor how a notary works.

Send your completed forms along with your original birth certificate and the required forms of identification to Australia. Postage is $33.95.

Two and a half months later, you will receive a letter from the ACT office of Births, Deaths, and Marriages informing you that the doctor who signed your paperwork was not, in fact, qualified to do so, as she was a Nurse Practitioner instead of a General Practitioner, and apparently Nurse Practitioners are incapable of determining if you are lying when you tell them your gender. (Remember, trans people are inherently deceptive and must be gatekept at every opportunity.)

They will, however, charge you $84.60 to process your name change.

Repeat the entire form signing process with someone who has the necessary qualifications, and send the new form back to Australia. Postage is $14.55

At some point while this new form is in transit, or while it has yet to be processed, the ACT office of Births, Deaths, and Marriages will helpfully decide to process just your name change and mail you a new birth certificate that has your new name but your old gender. (This will cost $49.59, tho that is, of course, dependent on the exact exchange rate at that moment.) Even tho this will be sent by certified mail, it will be delivered without anyone signing for it. This will be the only piece of certified mail your apartment will ever successfully receive.

Several months later, e-mail to inquire about the status of your application. Be told that it is being processed. Wait.

Eventually, you will be notified that your new birth certificate has been mailed. You will never receive this certificate. The gender-change fee is $83.47.

After several weeks, e-mail to say that you never received the new certificate, and ask if there is any tracking information you can look at to find out where it might be. They will not have tracking information available for that mailing, but they will post you a new certificate free of charge, complete with tracking number.

This tracking number, when entered on the Australia Post website, will be returned as invalid. When you remove the letters at the start of the code, it will be accepted, but they will tell you that the item has not yet been scanned. This will never change.

Several weeks later, inform your contact at the office of Births, Deaths, and Marriages for the ACT that you did not receive this certificate and cannot use the tracking number provided. Suggest that the issue is with your apartment complex receiving certified mail, and ask to have the certificate mailed to your school address instead. They will do this in several weeks, once your contact returns from their summer vacation.

The new certificate will successfully arrive at your school, but it will have your old name on the back in two places. Resign yourself to this as a byproduct of a bureaucracy that prioritizes the completeness of its own internal records over the comfort and safety of trans people, and blot it out with permanent marker and whiteout.

Your contact at the office of Births, Deaths, and Marriages for the ACT will then e-mail you to confirm receipt of the latest certificate. Decide that, since you are going to have to write back anyway, you might as well inquire about the possibility of getting a certificate that doesn't include your deadname.

When you do not receive a response, assume that this was a bridge too far.

Two weeks later, your contact will e-mail you to say that your deadname was printed on your birth certificate as a result of an “administrative error”, and that a new certificate is on its way. (This is, in total, the fifth new birth certificate that you will have been mailed.)

The new, correct certificate will arrive in the first week of October, almost exactly one year after you first posted your documents to Australia.

Because you were born in Australia, you have a Consular Report of Birth Abroad just to really prove that you are 100% definitely a US Citizen for reals. You have never needed this form, but given the rising tide of xenophobia, it seems prudent to update it regardless. Decide that you would also like to update the gender marker, as you would like all your documents to be as consistent as possible while the permissiveness of the Obama era lasts.

Make another appointment with another doctor at NYU Health. Tell this person, with whom you have never interacted prior to this meeting, that you would like your gender marker to be changed on your Consular Report of Birth Abroad and also your passport.

This person will then write a letter on official letterhead certifying that you have received “appropriate clinical treatment for gender transition”. For the purposes of US law at the time, “appropriate clinical treatment” does not require surgery, hormones, or concrete evidence of full-time social transition. Marvel again at the discrepancy between the utter meaninglessness of gender markers on government identification documents and the rigamarole with which you are required to procure documents officially asserting absolutely nothing. Wonder how cis people can get anything done if they require someone with an advanced degree to write down a stranger’s words before they will believe that said stranger said those words.

Mail this letter along with a form, your old certificate, a certified copy of your court order, and a check for $50 to the pertinent government office. Postage comes to $6.50.

Anticipating an anti-queer crackdown from the Christian supremacist vice president of the incoming fascist regime, update your passport.

You can get new passport photos at Walgreens for $15.23.

The fee to process changes to a passport (i.e. your name and gender) is $25. The fee to get an actual replacement passport is $110. You must pay both of these.

Go to a post office of your choosing and see the pertinent clerk to send off the photos, the forms, the court order, the gender-change letter, and your old passport. Take a moment to look thru the various stamps and visas from your adolescence. You will never see them again.

Wait.

After several weeks, you will not have received your passport. Check the online tracking system, which will tell you that your passport has been marked “delivered” by the USPS.

Connect the dots and draw the conclusion that your passport was stolen when your apartment mailbox was broken into while you were on winter vacation. Brace yourself for further bureaucracy.

Call the passport office to report a stolen passport. They will inform you that, since you didn't actually see the passport, technically you are reporting the “non-receipt” of a passport, which requires a different form.

Prepare this form and send it in, which must be done by certified mail. $6.45.

The passport office will then need to call you. They will, of course, only do this while you are in class, and they will not leave messages, nor will you be able to return their calls. If you try calling the passport office directly, they will not be able to help you.

Eventually, make your excuses to a professor and skip out of class when they call. The person from the passport office will go over everything that you told the previous person when you reported the initial non-receipt of your passport, and will not ask for any further details. They will then send you a new and updated passport, which will arrive safely and not be stolen.

Update your college diploma, just in case.

Yale diplomas are in Latin, which mercifully means you don’t have to deal with any gender nonsense, only a name change. Name changes ordinarily cost $125 and result in a new diploma with the old name on the back, but for trans alumns, the fee is lowered to $25 and the name on the back can be omitted.

Do not ask them how they verify which alumns are trans.

The fee, however, must be paid by money order, so it actually costs $26.50, plus another $6.45 for shipping.

By the end of your name change process, you will have gathered that PayPal has rather a reputation for being Bad About Name Changes, but you will be blissfully unaware of this when you start the process.

As per the instructions on their website, send in PDFs of your court order and your driver’s license.

Wait.

Over a month later, call to inquire about the status of your name change. You will be told that it is marked “processing”, and that there is nothing more to be done at this time.

Wait some more.

A month or so later, decide that you've waited long enough, and re-submit your forms.

The next day, receive an e-mail saying that your name change has been denied.

Call to ask what's up with this.

The person on the phone will tell you that you cannot transfer ownership of a PayPal account from one person to another. Explain to them that that is not, in fact, what is happening, you’re just changing your first and last names. Assure them repeatedly that you are the same person as you have always been.

They will remain adamant on this point.

Ask to be transferred to a manager.

The manager will tell you that yes, they understand that you retain ontological continuity with your past self, but that still doesn’t solve the problem: Apparently PayPal’s database is hard coded such that changing both names “counts as” transferring account ownership and is thus prohibited. Ask explicitly about cases in which someone changes their first name via court order and then, some time later, gets married and tries to change their last name; be told in response that that would not be possible to execute in PayPal’s system.

The manager will ask if you want to delete your account and open a new one, this apparently being the only way to get the new name recognized. Ask if you would be able to transfer various regular-donor privileges that you’ve accumulated thru steady donations to various causes over the years. Be told that this is impossible, you would have to start from scratch with all of them. Convey your deep dissatisfaction with this policy and decline to delete your account. End the call in considerable frustration.

Over winter break, ask one of your relatives in law school whether PayPal can ignore a court order like this. Be told that technically the court order doesn't actually require anyone except the government to recognize your new name, but that what PayPal is doing still sounds fishy. This relative will then give you some contact info for various LGBTQ Rights Organizations.

All of these organizations will be swamped with people trying to update their legal documents before the inauguration, and so none will be able to help you directly. One person will suggest that if you can get PayPal’s policy in writing, you might be able to file a complaint with the New York Human Rights Commission. This person will also take a potshot at the Human Rights Campaign, noting that PayPal is given a perfect score in their Corporate Equality Index.

Decide that you’re maybe actually stubborn enough to do this and send PayPal your name change paperwork for a third time. As expected, your request for a name change will be denied.

Call their help number. The first person you talk to will tell you that name changes are “only for women, and only for when they get married, for their last names”. Since this is clearly wrong, ask to be transferred to a manager.

Your phone will be disconnected while you are on hold. Call again.

This new person will listen to your story, then tell you that you actually need to talk to an Account Specialist, which you can do by calling a different number, which they will then give you.

This number will turn out to be exactly the same as the generic PayPal help line number.

Call again.

This third person of the day will offer to transfer you to an Account Specialist. Wait on hold again.

Brace yourself for the Account Specialist to realize that you are changing both of your names and tell you that you cannot do this.

Instead, they will say that the PDF you submitted of your court order appears to be entirely blank.

Pull the PDF up on your own computer, just to confirm that you can see everything fine. The Account Specialist will ask you to re-upload it.

Do so.

For the Account Specialist, it will still be blank.

Thank your lucky stars that you were calling from home, run into the other room, and get the hard copy of your court order. Take pictures of each page with your cell phone, upload those photos to your drive, download them onto your computer, then upload them into PayPal’s system.

This will, miraculously, work. The Account Specialist will change the name on your account and you will be all set.

Yes, seriously.

Some time later, set about changing your name and gender in ASCAP.

While ASCAP apparently has no requirements whatsoever regarding gender changes, in order to change the name on your account, they require two signed forms, your driver's license, your court order, your social security card, and a W9 form, thus making this the most heavily documented ID change you will ever make.

ASCAP does not have an “Mx” honorific in their system, but the system requires an honorific regardless, so your new name will be “Other Brin Rose Solomon”.

Since you used to work under a common nickname of your legal name (think “Beth” instead of “Elizabeth”), you have an old nickname of your deadname listed in your account. There is no process to remove this in the account.

Tag ASCAP on Twitter when you complain about the inherent transphobia of this.

Receive, to your surprise, a very apologetic phone call from a member of their staff to talk about this.

ASCAP’s official position is that they can’t remove old names, even names that have never been your legal name, because theoretically if you worked under them, there could be some music with those old names out there, and ASCAP needs to be able to give you your royalties even if you no longer use that name.

Inform them that you are actually entirely willing to give up that kind of royalty money if it means getting your deadname entirely removed from your account, especially since you’ve pretty thoroly destroyed any old scores that deadname you. The ASCAP agent will say “Well, all right, I’ll talk to our tech team and see what they can do.”.

The ultimate solution that they settle on will be to casually re-name your old alias. So you will still have the same number of alternate names on your profile, but they will now all be variants of your actual name, instead of including your deadname.

You will also need them to manually change the name on your old bank account. This account no longer exists, and the bank it was with has since been acquired by a larger entity, but ASCAP doesn’t actually have the ability to delete old bank accounts from your profile. They can easily change the name listed as belonging to the account tho, which you will see as a perfectly acceptable, if deeply silly, solution.

During and after all of the above, continuously find new and surprising places that have your deadname, each with their own quirks regarding updating their records. Some highlights:

Your student loan collector will periodically and randomly revert to your deadname on your entire account because somewhere in some computer between the federal government and them, your name has not been changed. No one will care enough to track this down and fix it for good, you'll just have to call them every couple months because of it.

When you update your name with your internet provider, they will delete your account instead of re-naming it. Your roommates will be Quite Perplexed by the sudden absence of internet service in the apartment.

Renew your hatred of having to create an account on every ticketing service under the sun when random ticketing accounts you used once four years ago remember your deadname and print it on your tickets. Some services will let you change your name yourself, others won’t. When you call one, you will get a very concerned employee who doesn’t actually know if they have the power to change the name on an account. (They do. It will be fine. Everyone will learn something that day.)

Perhaps the culmination of this will be the New York Philharmonic. Despite ordering the ticket with your current name on the card and in the billing information, the ticket will be held under your deadname, which the system will have remembered from one single purchase you made over two years prior. A photo ID is required at the will call window, and the clerk will initially refuse to give you your ticket. When you explain that you are trans and have had a legal name change, you will see a brief internal struggle as they balance potentially giving a ticket out to an impostor against potentially embroiling the Philharmonic in a public relations fiasco by discriminating against a transgender patron. Fear of the fiasco will win out, but only barely.

A surprising number of places, actually, have no established protocol for name changes. You will lose track of the number of customer service representatives who react to an inquiry about changing the name on your account with a flustered admission that they’ve never had to deal with this before and don’t have a clue what they are doing. Be patient with these people; reserve your bile for the upper management that refuses to provide adequate training to entry-level employees.

You will discover that a particular online clothing retailer has three different e-mail databases, none of them automatically updated, when you continue being periodically misgendered in some of their targeted advertising despite having re-named your account years ago. You will have to call their customer service line each time you discover a new flavor of newsletter that hasn’t been fixed yet.

Your landlord will claim that they never received a copy of your court order. At first you will think this is your fault, but when it takes them six months to fix your invoices after you send them another copy, you will grow suspicious. (You will call every month and be told by that the landlord is just “not around the office a lot”. Sometimes you will be told this by the landlord himself.)

Decide your name change is Officially Finished. Immediately discover a new place that has been hiding your deadname all along. Repeat this indefinitely until you die.

The total cost of all these endeavors will be $677.24. This does not include the hours spent researching, waiting in waiting rooms, waiting on hold, patiently explaining what's going on to the fourth person you’ve been transferred to, and so on. This total also does not include the mental drain of keeping tabs on everything currently in process so that you can call and nag when too much time has elapsed — such drag, of course, to be calculated from a position of working thru grad school while dissociating constantly and losing weeks at a time to putting one foot in front of the other. If you think reading this was exhausting, imagine living it.

[needsmoresarcasm]

The Definitive Totally Objective Ranking of Every One Direction Song

As the title says, this is a totally objective and absolutely not biased in any way* ranking of every 1D song recorded. Except like, not remixes or covers because that’s the line I drew in the sand and I’m sticking to it. I mean, it’s still ninety damn songs, so like, there’s enough there there. Anyway, let’s get to it. (Also, as a note, as always, I kinda view language as an impressionist painter would... up close these words might not mean anything, but if you take a step back the general feeling should be there.)

*I am lying.

90. Little Black Dress

1D has a pretty serious discography at this point. Five albums, all ridiculously overstuffed with deluxe, Target-exclusive, Japanese B-sides that must be collected by depositing $20 into the eager gullet of your nearest Sony executive. So like there’s a lot of songs. And not all of them are gems. So being last is a truly impressive feat of strength. But here “Little Black Dress” is. Little Black Dress is just a wall of noise. It’s a rock song written by someone whose only point of reference is a Kidz Bop cover album of the Guardians of the Galaxy soundtrack and then was recorded using GarageBand on a laptop in the middle of a construction site. It’s a truly meritless sonic attack, devoid of personality or melody. The best thing about it is that it clocks in at a mercifully brief 2:37.

89. Nobody Compares

Find Liam Payne in this song. Oh, what, you can’t? Because he’s literally not there? Like, at all? Like, not even kinda mixed in to the back of the chorus somewhere? Huh. Funny. Now on a totally unrelated point, Nobody Compares is a trash garbage dumpster fire.

88. Something Great

You see, the thing about Something Great is that it really shouzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

87. Gotta Be You

You know how I know there must be like mystical forces behind the power of 1D? They released this as their second single and the world didn’t immediately throw them into the abyss. A lot of 1D’s ballads are boring, but Gotta Be You is special because it is somehow both boring and also has one of the most grating choruses ever crafted. And most of Up All Night is shoddily produced, but it’s real noticeable on parts of Gotta Be You (see the very beginning of the second verse). And then they released a “US 2012″ version that is the exact same thing??? Except like Liam resang the line about making a mess on your innocence. BECAUSE REASONS. 

86. Taken

Try singing Demi Lovato’s “Skyscraper” over “Taken.” It’s easy. Because they’re the same song. Except Skyscraper is significantly better. Taken is what happens when you ask the writers of Skyscraper to rewrite Skyscraper, except this time use even more cliches and make sure that there’s no discernible build anywhere in the entire song. It doesn’t help that the children singing are not actually very good at singing at this point. Like, Zayn whiffs at the beginning of the bridge. On the studio version. And I feel like that’s all that needs to be said, really.

85. Little Things

One Direction have a bad history with second singles. And Little Things is no difference. First, it is written by Ed Sheeran and like, every single one of them sounds like they’re trying to do their best Ed Sheeran impression. And none of them are great at it. Next, the lyrics are aggressively bad. No one should ever be forced to say any of the words that Harry and Liam are forced to say on this song. It’s a crime. But mostly, it’s the worst type of acoustic college dudebro song that should be banished forever from polite society, for the benefit of everyone who isn’t a nineteen year old white dude that’s finding himself.

84. Once In A Lifetime

With the pacing of a funeral dirge and the personality of your local DMV, Once In A Lifetime is a true stunner. I don’t know if the soft acoustic guitar or the barely audible whisper on all the vocals is more innovative, but man is this song exciting. At least, again, they seem to be fully aware of their worst songs and end this one after 2:38.

83. Night Changes

Was this a second single? I don’t remember. It sounds like a second single though. It’s got all the hallmark points of one: indistinct ballad, saccharine lyrics, and like the Glade plug-in air of romance to it. But Night Changes also manages to have the worst 1D music video as well. A video where they decided it’d be a good idea to split everyone up and then not have any of the hyena children antics. I call a do-over.

82. Spaces

Have you picked up on the theme of terrible 1D songs yet? It’s faceless ballads that would be better suited playing on repeat in my own personal hell than on a One Direction album. Like, if you’re gonna make a ballad as a vocal group, then at least serve me some lush harmonies to bask in. And like, the reason Spaces is better than all the ones before it is because it does that for exactly .5 seconds after the bridge when the beat drops out and there’s a delicious “oh spaces between us.” So thanks, Spaces, for not being totally worthless.

81. Same Mistakes

The only surprising thing about Same Mistakes is that it was not written and produced by Ryan Tedder. 

80. Infinity

Honestly, I’m shocked that Infinity wasn’t the second single off of Made in the A.M. because it sounds exactly like it should’ve been. And like, comparing Infinity to Gotta Be You shows just how much better they got at singing and how much better their producers got at producing their voices. But like, it’s still a boring song, Jan, with a particularly bland chorus.

79. Temporary Fix

Temporary Fix is kinda the spiritual successor to No Control. But just like, much worse. The vocal tones are all poorly matched and both verses end up sounding like total messes. The chorus sounds like it might be interesting, but then quickly dissolves into a puddle of adult contemporary insipidness. And like, it’s just a lot of overproduced noise.

78. Illusion

This might be the worst chorus in 1D’s discography. It has actively mundane lyrics and sounds like the worst kind of Disney channel original movie song reject. It’s melodically repetitive and also hookless, a combination that defies sense. But like, the verses kinda bop, so the song isn’t the worst ever.

77. Home

So like, if I’m being real honest, I heard Home for the first (?) time when writing this list. And... I can’t say I’m ever going to be hearing it again. Harry’s falsetto is not a good sound here. The entire instrumental is a plodding disaster. The song sounds the exact same the entire time, but it also sounds like they stitched four separate songs together at the last minute. And how it manages to be both disjointed and boring is beyond me. But like, yikes.

76. Another World

Okay, so, objectively Another World is a terrible song. It kinda sounds like a song that would be playing in the background on a Japanese commercial for like some chocolate snack. And it also sounds like it was produced using only the preloaded Casio beats. But otherwise, it’s a hilarious relic from One Direction, a band that released B-sides in the year of our lord 2012.

75. Right Now

Oh, Right Now. What could’ve been. I actually quite like Right Now as a song. It hits that plaintive vibe pretty well. It builds well. It’s kinda an ideal pop midtempo song. But all the vocals on the studio version are tragic. (The live performances are significantly better. Which is not a thing I say about One Direction songs, ever.) Louis sounds like he’s both singing through his nose and chewing on sandpaper. Niall digs in to the most grating parts of his tone. Zayn’s falsetto sounds paper thin. Liam is barely hanging on to some of those higher notes. And, like, Harry actually acquits himself of the mess pretty well. But come. on.

74. I Wish

At this point, I harbor no resentment for any of these songs. But like, this song is just total album filler. It’s the most nothing a song could nothing. You could’ve replaced this song with any other song from any other artist on any other album and no one would’ve noticed. Because it’s the equivalent of the raspberry jelly beans in a packet of Jelly Bellies. Like fine, but no one’s looking out for it.

73. Stand Up

“Oh oh oh oh / so put your hands up / oh oh oh oh / cause it’s a stand up / and i won’t be leaving till i finish stealing every piece of your heart” is the greatest chorus written in the history of music. This song is a masterpiece, whose chorus is somehow dwarfed by the bridge: “And I will steal us a car / and we will drive to the stars / I will give you the moon / it’s the least I can do / if you give me the chance” where “chance” and “do” are written as a rhyme???? And then “I’m a thief / i’m a thief / i’m only here / i’m a thief / i’m a thief / because you stole my heart.” GOD, I should’ve ranked this song way higher. I regret this already.

72. Midnight Memories

Oh, Midnight Memories. The album where One Direction decided that they weren’t going to deliver pure pop jam after pure pop jam and were instead going to give me subpar rehashes of dated rock songs and modern folk tunes. Great. And like, Midnight Memories is probably the least inspired of all the subpar rock rehashes. But like, at least it gave us the fun anecdote about having the lyrics originally be “I love KFC,” which I think could’ve made for a deeper, more contemplative song, tbh.

71. Na Na Na

It’s another lovely B-Side, and you can tell once again by its middle school music project-level production quality (and the fact that Liam sings basically the whole song, the other stalwart pillar of 1D B-sides). And, as the great William Shakespeare once said, they were like na na na, then they were like yeah yeah yeah. But wait, here’s the twist, then they went na na na. I know, it’s really quite an emotional rollercoaster. 

70. Diana

Basically all that stuff I said about Midnight Memories, again. Except this time about The Police. At least this has some fun 80s pop-style synth going on. 

69. Love You Goodbye

Liam serves some serious vocals on the opening of this song. And honestly, that’s the entire reason this has managed to escape the lower echelon of this ranking. Because this is every bit as insipid as Infinity, except at least this kind of leans into it with the snare drum and the overly dramatic strings.

68. Happily

Oh hey, it’s the other type of song on Midnight Memories that drives me up the wall. I think when it first came out I called it Mumfordian riff raff, and that’s basically what I’m gonna stick with. It’s Mumfordian riff raff. And not a particularly good iteration of it. So, like, what’s the point. If you’re gonna trend hop, at least do it well.

67. Stockholm Syndrome

I really, really love Everybody Wants To Rule The World.

66. Why Don’t We Go There

This song might be incredibly generic, but it’s also great to just blast while driving down some empty highway that I have heard exists in places that are not Los Angeles. There are fun little oohs throughout the song, and so I can mostly overlook the fact that most of the instrumental to the song sounds like it was lifted out of the beginner level of a knock off Guitar Hero that couldn’t get licenses for any actual song.

65. Still The One

The Take Me Home bonus tracks are all certifiable jams. They’re hilarious and cheesy, but like unapologetically fun and totally unpretentious. No one told any of these tracks that they weren’t cool, so they just all do their own terrible Carlton dance in the street without apprehension. It’s beautiful. Still The One is bouncy and energetic and it doesn’t care that Niall and Louis definitely cannot hit the low note it asks them to because it’s just as certain as I am that no one ever listens to these songs. And that’s beautiful.

64. Ready To Run

The chorus of Ready To Run has the line “escape from the city” in it, which obligates me to mention the best video game song of all time: City Escape from Sonic Adventure Battle Fight Club 2: 2 Fast 2 Sonic. It’s not relevant to the song or this ranking, but do yourself a favor and jam out to it. Ready To Run is no City Escape, but it’s got some solid vocals and the lameness of the chorus doesn’t offend my core.

63. Magic

Another pop perfection Take Me Home bonus track that never should have made it out for public consumption but somehow managed to sneak out and thank god for it. I want someone to hunt Harry Styles down and ask him to sing this song. Do you think any of them even remember that this song exists? If you played this song for them, would they have any recollection of recording it? Does this song even exist?

62. Walking In The Wind

Not to state the obvious, but this song is just wonderfully light and breezy. Louis’s verse is impeccably delivered and the song manages to draw a more resonant sound out of his voice than usual. And that would elevate the song even higher if the bridge didn’t sound so horrifically strained the whole time. But you know, you can only have so many wins in one song.

61. A.M.

A.M. isn’t great, but its placing at the end of their last album is one of their better tracklisting calls. Everyone shows up to play vocally and the choruses have some well crafted vocal arrangements. It’s simple. And it feels like a somewhat dignified send off for the band. I don’t know. I’m not made of stone, people.

60. Truly Madly Deeply

Once I got over the fact that this wasn’t going to be a Savage Garden cover, I appreciated Truly Madly Deeply for just really going all in on the sappiness. (Really though, these Take Me Home bonus tracks feel like they were all imagined for a different band. A better band. A band that would be fueled solely by the hopes and dreams of the innocent.) It’s all just such a wonderfully boyband-y affair.

59. Irresistible

Listen, the video I had to watch in order to listen to this song had an annotation that said “PLEASE READ MY HARRY FANFIC ON WATTPAD” and I feel like that really sums up the essence of this song better than I can. It’s Jamie asking people watching her youtube video in 2012 to please read her Harry fanfic on Wattpad. And like, there’s a unique charm to that.

58. I Want To Write You A Song

The difference in the vocals from their early ballads to this song is ridiculously stark. Like comparing this to Taken sounds like two entirely different groups of people. Those verses are just like a wonderful, rich, warm honey. (... we’ll just ignore the chorus.) But just like, don’t pay attention to the sound of the pencil writing in the background because once you hear it, you’ll never unhear it. *glass shatters* Oh, uh, sorry?

57. No Control

No Control is here solely on the shoulders of one of the best fanworks ever created. Do yourself a favor and watch it.

56. Story Of My Life

Here’s another 1D foray into the seedy underworld of the Lumineers & friends. It’s not the worst thing ever, and like, it smashed pretty hard so at least it has that going for it. And the music video is pretty great, like gj Ben Winston. But also the radio version for this song cut out Liam’s part in the second verse and I’m forever angry and bitter about it, because that’s the best part of the song. ... huh, do I even like this song? I feel like maybe I am learning that this should’ve been ranked ~20 spots lower.

55. Best Song Ever

This basically sounds like all their other lead singles, so let’s not waste any time talking about it as a song. (That’s not entirely true, it’s the only song where I am actively anxious about Liam whiffing a note.) Instead, let’s talk about the amazing music video it produced that actually forced all of them to “act.” And like, just do ridiculous things generally. And made it abundantly clear that they’re somehow the most boyband-y boyband to ever boyband but also totally unfit to do anything a boyband does. It’s a theatrical masterpiece that should’ve been eligible in the short film category of the Oscars.

54. End Of The Day

I remain convinced that End of the Day was two separate songs that they merged into one. Because the verses and choruses are totally unrelated to each other. But I’m okay with that, because both halves are great. And so it might not be a Reese’s Cup where two things blend together to make an even greater whole, it’s at least a tub of Neapolitan ice cream where the separate parts are delicious and don’t detract from each other. Am I hungry? I might be hungry.

53. Act My Age

If you were in Portland and walked into an Irish pub at like 1:45AM and then just started yelling, you would probably end up composing Act My Age. Like it’s just a lot of yelling, and there isn’t a whole lot of musicality happening. And I’m not entirely sure at any point during the creation of this song did anyone stop and think, “is this a good idea?” But like, that’s the point. That’s the whole point. And if you can’t appreciate a little sloppy fun, then maybe you shouldn’t have gone to a pub at 1:45 AM. That seems like it’s on you.

52. I Want

THIS IS GREAT. Because this is totally the “rock” song on Up All Night. And just typing that sentence out is hilarious to me. It’s very baby’s-first-rock-song, and there’s a real charm about that. But the best part of I Want is the staging of the live performances during their first tour. The ridiculous dinner party set up and all of them dressing up in formal-ish wear and like the ridiculous video they played. It was wonderful. They should’ve kept doing that.

51. Hey Angel

Much like A.M., Hey Angel on its own is not that great of a song. But also like A.M., its placement on the album makes it so much better. It’s kind of the perfect album opener for Made in the AM. It’s got that super lush instrumental opening and those epic layered backing vocals throughout. It’s like their producers said, “hey, we learned how to do our job and now we’re going to show it all off at once.” And then they did. It establishes the slightly-more-grown-up pop sound that MITAM just nails. 

50. You & I

The chorus of You & I embodies the sweeping pseudo-romance that every sappy pop ballad attempts to be. And like, man does You & I really nail it. It soars just enough to make me almost forget some of the downright terrifying body horror-level of animorphs shit that the music video wrought upon my eyes. Also like, Zayn goes off at the end of the song, and not just on the high note. He hits some of his best runs on those adlibs and it’s money.

49. Loved You First

God. Take Me Home is a great album. Even the forgettable bonus tracks are pure pop perfection. They just like dig their elbows all the way into the soft bubblegum beats that have been churned out of some faceless stainless steel factory just for them. And it just carves out that perfect One Direction niche, a pop sound so ubiquitous that literally no one else even comes close to it. 

48. Rock Me

“Do you remember summer ‘09,” One Direction asks me. Oh yes, summer ‘09, when Harry Styles was 15 and like, I don’t know, doing trigonometry homework? Maybe Louis was like, hanging out with his buddies at Starbucks drinking those coffee-free Frappuccinos? There were probably lots of cartoons involved? Come on, kids, I hope to god that was not the “best time of your life.” During summer ‘09, I was being an adult and obsessively following Twitter updates of the tour of a reality singing TV show competition. Get on my level. (This song is great and I love it for letting Niall and Liam take lead on the chorus / refrain.)

47. Live While We’re Young

I gotta say, I am surprised at how much I like Live While We’re Young. I kind of always assume it’s boring when I think about it. But then I listen to it, and Zayn is telling me that we’ll keep doing what we do, just pretending that we’re cool, and I am inspired all over again. The song is just like distilled energy, and all the vocals are so crisp and poppy and the guitar is bouncing the whole time, and I just like- someone give me an inflatable banana to hit Liam Payne with.

46. Everything About You

This song is almost painful for me to listen to because it reminds me of the EURODANCE TRASH POP BAND THAT COULD’VE BEEN. The entire song is great, but during the breakdown, when they pull out the beat, and then bring it back in, and then there are those fire falsetto adlibs. God, this song is so slick and brilliant, and they could’ve gone down this path. In another timeline, they went down this path.

45. Strong

This song gets some points just for giving me some of Liam’s lower register (even if it’s approximately six notes total). That’s the real crime of One Direction, ignoring Liam’s incredible lower register. I’m all here for a ballad that you can kinda just scream along to in the shower, and that’s what Strong gives me. It’s a great hairbrush song (I say, as a person who does not own a hairbrush).

44. Steal My Girl

That opening piano for Steal My Girl is iconic. Or like, it should be iconic. Every set from every pop star ever should start with that intro. If that doesn’t get you hyped, nothing does. Like you just know whatever comes next is going to deliver. And, like, Steal My Girl kind of delivers after that. It’s not a total let down. And it gave us Anna Kendrick throwing down with John Krasinski while wearing a shirt silkscreened with a picture of Emily Blunt.

43. She’s Not Afraid

Wow, no song has ever said party on a beach quite like this one. I don’t entirely know what it is, but it’s undeniably beach-y. And like, this is not a song concerned with petty things like moderation or dynamics, it’s all about just going as hard as possible for one hundred and ninety seconds and I could not be more down for that ride. It’s also a song that manages to preserve and utilize Harry’s tone nearly perfectly in that first verse and then gives me Liam harmonizing with himself in one of the most pleasing symphonic moments of 1D’s discography.

42. Last First Kiss

There’s something incredible simplistic about the writing of Last First Kiss, which is unsurprising given that it’s one of the first songs that the 1D members had any actual writing input on. But it’s also really sweet and heartwarming in its simplicity. And sure, I’d rather just like send that second verse into a void, but there’s some real magic happening in the choruses. And that breakdown is just gooey falsetto candy.

41. If I Could Fly

Let me start off by saying that If I Could Fly is a bad song. Everything about it is super boring and bland and I mostly want to never listen to it. But, like, it’s also the single best vocal arrangement on any One Direction song ever. Which puts me in a bind when ranking it. So we’ve ended up solidly in the middle. Because man, for as much as I am bored by the song, the vocal arrangement and production are incredible. First, both Louis and Niall give their best vocal performances on this song. Louis gets to really tap into the natural rasp of his voice in a way that’s lovely and warm. And Niall’s voice has a richness to it that I wasn’t aware it was capable of. But then in the way the harmonies build throughout the choruses, and the way the lines switch back and forth between each person. And then the trade offs at the bridge and in the breakdown. It’s absurdly well put together, and thoughtful and it makes this group seem like an actual vocal band. But like, the song is aural Lunesta. 

40. Alive

There’s an audacity to this song that absolutely should not work, but somehow does. Like, this is not a sound that works for One Direction, but through sheer force of conviction, they’ve managed to pull off this one song. Liam alone goes through like nineteen different vocal tones as he shifts from grit to rock to breathy to smooth. It’s a song that sort of bounces off all surfaces when it blares through speakers and just vibrates through your body. And somehow it goes through this journey in under three minutes.

39. Fool’s Gold

Fool’s Gold feels like it’s just gliding along the clouds bathed in sunlight the entire time. I get that it’s lyrically kind of sad and desperate, but it sounds so goddamn sweet and romantic and for a song about fool’s gold, maybe that’s fitting. The verses twist and turn effortlessly, and the choruses are just pure vocal bombast. And all of it comes together in a digestible caramel-filled truffle of pure bliss.

38. Save You Tonight

37. Clouds

This song is like a shot of adrenaline straight into the bloodstream. It constantly drives forward with overblown production and effects everywhere and at one point I’m pretty sure they just dump the song into the middle of a Star Trek soundboard and go to town. And I’m totally okay with all of that because adding a few caffeine pills to Four is only ever going to be a good thing. 

36. Summer Love

I also kind of hate Summer Love. It’s incredibly treacly and the bad kind of cheesy. And honestly, the studio version is mostly terrible. But the live performances of the song throughout the Take Me Home tour are everything. And the song that gave me Liam belting out and then harmonizing with Zayn in one of the most impressive displays of vocal ability in 1D history needs to get some credit. Just like, be impressed with me.

35. I Should’ve Kissed You

I have a lot of true pop trash favorites from One Direction’s discography, but I think I Should’ve Kissed You is my absolute trash favorite. It’s the stupidest of their B-Sides, and thus the best one. Like, Liam and Harry do this fun back and forth on the first prechorus and then Liam and Zayn do it on the second prechorus, and I’m just really here for any song that makes it sound like they’re singing to each other about their eyes. This is an absurdly fun song and if you haven’t heard it because you don’t live for B-Sides released six years ago, then you should hunt it down immediately because it will transform your life. It’ll be like the Giver, you’ll see colors and shit that you didn’t know existed. (That was The Giver, right? I’m pretty sure that’s what happened in The Giver; the main character couldn’t see color, then this old guy played I Should’ve Kissed You for him, and then he could see color and like, wrote it down or some shit.)

34. Half A Heart

Half A Heart isn’t a total sewer rat of a song, but it’s not like great. But once more, a single great moment in the song elevates the entire thing. In the last chorus, Liam sings two separate harmonies, one which is played through the left channel and one which is played through the right channel, and that’s like the best thing 1D’s producers have ever done. I like have waited for them to repeat that but it just hasn’t happened and I demand to know why.

33. C’mon C’mon

One Direction rarely gives me the dance pop that I want, so when they do I really have to savor it. C’mon C’mon is like the exact kind of middle-of-the-road dance pop that my heart desires from this band. The vocal production is kinda breathy and overly slick, and it’s just a great affair. I mean, the fact that Liam doesn’t have a solo and I still think it’s great basically says everything. (But like, also makes it significantly worse than another song...)

32. They Don’t Know About Us

I love me some piano pop ballads. And like, this really leans into it with the wonderful tinkling piano that plinks through the whole song. It’s just like such a genuinely youthful song that is so gleefully exuberant that it’s hard not to get swept up with it. It bites down with the defiance of an unruly kitten and that’s just something I need more of in my life. 

31. Don’t Forget Where You Belong

If They Don’t Know About Us grew up to become a college student, you’d get Don’t Forget Where You Belong. It’s somewhat more mature, but still far away from being a fully formed human. The way that the song just swells up through the bridge and then recedes back into that wonderful boom-boom-clap breakdown is gorgeous. And the bit of the second verse with Harry and Liam harmonizing is an aural delight. And there are just so many more small moments like that, where someone has a small vocal frill that gives the song a shade more replay value than your average 1D ballad.

30. Over Again

So, I like basically all of the Ed Sheeran-penned 1D songs (minus Little Things, which remains an abomination sea creature abyss monster). There’s just a deftness to the melodic construction that is more interesting than the average 1D ballad. And yeah, usually there’s a whiff or two in some of the solos (as there is here), but overall it’s a great, simple ballad that brings out a lot of the really nice softer tones of their vocals. (... and Liam kinda kills this song.)

29. Olivia

This might be a blatant grab at a Beatles song, but is there anything wrong with that? Shouldn’t more songs be blatant grabs at the Beatles?? Especially if they’re going to be this fun and boppy? Olivia just bounces along without a care in the world, and comes with some serious vocal firepower from all sides. That rapid fire cadence in the verses drives the pacing of an otherwise meandering melody. And man, those low notes can almost be described as showy, a rarity in One Direction’s discography.

28. Moments

For some reason, Moments comes with a lot of nostalgia for me, even more than the average Up All Night track. Something about it is inextricably sketched into the fabric of 2012 and will always bring me back there. It’s easily the best all around vocal song on all of their first album, which is too often defined by botched vocal production. It gets the various tones and breaks in everyone’s voice and utilizes those things as assets, not liabilities. And they somehow managed to turn that chorus into a larger-than-life chant that could literally fill stadiums. And like, that’s some power.

27. 18

So, while I like the Ed Sheeran songs, they’re all still very much Ed Sheeran songs. You can just hear how Ed Sheeran must’ve phrased the song on the demo because that’s exactly how all of the band delivers it on the record. Except for 18. On 18, we get some of the intricate melodies of an Ed Sheeran song, except with the musical personalities of the actual members of the band. They sort of figured out their own vocal identities and managed to wrest some of the vocal quirks away from Sheeran and into Payne/Tomlinson/Styles/Horan/Malik. And like, I enjoyed getting to witness that evolution in real time.

26. Wolves

Is “jaunty” a word people can use to describe music? Because Wolves is downright jaunty. Like, if you’re not chair grooving throughout the entire song, then there may be something medically wrong with you. It’s carefree and breezy and also comes with a supersized side of twists and turns to keep things fresh. Every damn solo brings a delightful new vocal delivery that just adds an extra layer of awesome to the song. Like seriously, every damn solo uses a different texture or has some offbeat cadence or something and it’s a smorgasbord of bubbly fun.

25. Up All Night

For all the criticisms lobbed against One Direction for being generic and manufactured, it’s hard to find another pop act that was delivering this slice of bubblegum pop in 2011. Which isn’t to say that 1D was producing original, groundbreaking music, but they were definitely filling a niche that had been left wide open since like the early 2000s when the last wave of bubblegum pop acts peaked. And Up All Night like burrows itself right into the middle of that bubblegum pop sound that just nestles into your ears and fizzes with bright, unabashedly catchy hooks. And like, we should all be so thankful that it does.

24. Girl Almighty

“Let’s have another toast to the girl almighty,” they bellow and you know they mean it, because they’re surrounded by a sea of mostly teenage girls that built an empire on blood, sweat, and feels. This is the sort of anthem that is a solid record in the studio, but really comes alive when blasted in a stadium and belted amidst the bone-crushing, world-ending power of the fandom that built House Direction. A power that can bend reality to make sense of a light as loud as as many ambulances as it takes to save a savior. 

23. Back For You

This song is total musical whiplash, as it jumps from one big hooky line to the next big hooky line, in search of the perfect earworm. Every line of this song is the catchiest line on the album. And each word somehow vibrates with even more energy and electricity than the last. And like, it just doesn’t stop. It’s bursting and effervescent and every second of it should be cherished like the goddamn gem it is.

22. Perfect

“Perfect” is definitely just Taylor Swift’s “Style” with a slightly different melody. But “Style” is a jam and a half, and so I’m down with Perfect. It’s the perfect song to belt out at the top of your lungs while serving just a little bit more attitude than the lyrics of the song actually call for. Like, it’s a song that wants to make “baby I’m perfect” into a biting insult. But mostly, it’s a song that includes the line “if you’re looking for someone to write your breakup songs about, baby I’m perfect” and that’s the best line written into a 1D song. 

21. Through The Dark

In the Mumfordineers Folk Hunger Games, Through The Dark is the victor. Because Through The Dark is an actually fantastic song that takes the swoopy melodies and the jangly banjos and the trawling percussion of the genre and uses them for good, not evil. It’s a decidedly sturdy, not quirky, song with some lush vocal arrangements and tight production. It is a vocal delight from start to finish with some pretty lovely harmonies and some killer adlibs towards the end.

20. Tell Me A Lie

Top 20 is serious business time, where all these songs are masterpieces in one way or another. And Tell Me A Lie is just another goddamn gem of a pop song. We get the first sense of the power of Zayn’s voice on the chorus here, a nice hint of the tour de force yet to come. And Liam hits all the most perfect boybander inflections, down to the breaths. The beat never stops and the vocals are always up to the task and the entire song is an example of what can be accomplished with a lot of fire and a little talent.

19. Does He Know?

First of all, everything about the lyrics of this song is amazing, and I will not entertain any conversation to the contrary. The absurdity of this band singing any of these words halfway between swagger and sincerity is great. And the entire song has the cadence of a pixie sticked-up child on a pogo stick, and that’s the kind of bounciness I’m looking for. But also, have you heard Liam’s voice? Namely, the absurd number of textures he hits on his various solos and harmonies here. He’s Mystique, but for voices. ... so, like, a voice actor, I guess.

18. Long Way Down

Speaking of Liam Payne’s voice. There’s something just personally satisfying about getting to hear him belt out for forty seconds on the melody of the song. He carries a lot of harmonies throughout 1D’s 89 other songs, but here every member sings entirely solo. And for Liam, that means carrying a melody and really going for the throat, throwing the real gravity of his voice around like a damn wrecking ball to my emotions.

17. Kiss You

Alright. I’ve described a lot of 1D’s songs as energetic or bouncy or whatever. But this, this is the pure concentrated shit. This is the shit that you can only buy after signing a waiver. This is the shit they keep locked behind the counter, that you have to ask for. Pound for pound, this song has more energy than any other song on earth. If scientists could figure out how to harness the power of this sun, we would solve all of our world’s greatest problems. The song is turned up to 11 the entire time, and no one is mad about it, because it’s just a fantastic song. The chorus itself has like three separate hooks in it; the prechorus is a hook on its own; the verses move at a breakneck pace. Just like, blast this a few times a day and you’ll be able to forgo your daily workout routine.

16. Where Do Broken Hearts Go

And once I got over the fact that this was not a Whitney Houston cover, I was able to enjoy One Direction’s best attempt at arena rock. This is the kind of stadium-filling rock sound that fits a pop band. Where Do Broken Hearts Go is impossibly big and bombastic and has just enough hard edges to break through the roar of an audience. But it keeps a lot of the vocal pop flourishes that keep the song believable delivered by a band that grew up in the circuits of a drum machine. 

15. Change My Mind

I’m sure this song has verses and a bridge and like other parts. I’m sure it does. It must. It’s a song. I can see that it is longer than twenty seconds long. But, are we sure it’s longer than twenty seconds? Can we be entirely sure there’s anything other than Liam’s deliciously clear falsetto on the first chorus? Because that’s a divine musical experience with few rivals. The ridiculous control and clarity throughout the entire chorus, and the crispness of the tone and the certainty of the delivery. It’s a pure and magical chorus that should be enshrined in a museum somewhere, preserved for future generations of children to halfheartedly look at and shuffle past in boredom like all truly spectacular art.

14. More Than This

As far as pure ballads go, More Than This basically is as good as it gets. The melody of the song is so much more carefully constructed than anything else on their first album that I almost feel like they fell backwards into it. And yeah, the vocals on the studio version suffer many of the problems common to the Up All Night tracks, the merit of the song is enough to keep the whole endeavor afloat. And mostly, their later live performances showed that it was a song that they were more than capable of growing into. But More Than This is a genuinely sweet song that just hits all the right notes.

13. I Would

One Direction might not have a solid grasp of the subjunctive mood, but they certainly understand a hook. Because like, WOULD HE SAY HE’S IN L-O-V-E BECAUSE IF IT WAS ME THEN I WOULD. I mean, what? Where was I? I don’t know. Because I’m making the mistake of listening to this song while writing about it, and unfortunately the only thing I can do while listening to this song is belt out the chorus. Because this is an endlessly danceable song and grooves so hard and is all the fun.

12. Little White Lies

The first nineteen seconds of this song have some of my favorite production effects of the entirety of Midnight Memories. I like that while most of Midnight Memories veered into folk/rock, Little White Lies just sat there and was like, fuck y’all, I’m gonna frolic in some dance pop. And again, I love my dance pop. There’s a goddamn drop on the chorus, and it’s everything I could’ve asked for in a One Direction song. Heck, it’s more than I would’ve dreamed of asking for. Everything about that beat just pulses through you; you’re forced to feel the song in your core. And damnit, that’s exactly what I’m here for.

11. Fireproof

Fireproof is almost quaint in its simplicity. But like, it’s not one of those sparse acoustic guitar ballads that plagues bad Youtube cover songs. It’s lush and full and has an undeniable energy pulsing through it. Each solo is steady and assured, and somehow each seems to be pitched in the sweet spot of each member’s vocal range. And then, when there are harmonies, they’re identifiable in a way that One Direction harmonies hardly ever are. And they’re not drowned out by noise. The song is just like the best meal you’ve ever had, but not because of any fancy recipe, it’s just got like the best individual ingredients possible. 

10. Change Your Ticket

Change Your Ticket starts with some weird spaceship noises and then only improves. The prechorus is fun and bouncy and then the chorus carves itself a solid groove and rocks back and forth in that pocket. And like most of One Direction’s best songs, it’s right in the center of their sound, instead of being some weird facsimile of something else. I don’t know, this just feels like what they should be singing and writing about and how they should be singing and writing about it. There’s the genuineness of a twenty year old multimillionaire in there.

9. History

So while AM might’ve been a great finisher for the album, History is the true closer in every sense. Their last single, music video, and song. And everything about it is perfect. The You’ve-Got-A-Friend vibe is the perfect vibe to go for. The ode to the fanbase that built them. The weird sentiment that acknowledges that this band has a damn history behind it. The production that makes it basically seem like a live recording, complete with an audience sing along. It’s just a lovely song that delivers on all of its promises and there’s nothing more I could’ve asked for, really.

8. Heart Attack

If you haven’t listened to Heart Attack in a while, do yourself a favor and listen to Heart Attack. It’s the most singable of a slew of immensely singable choruses. The OW! alone is worth the price of admission. The verses and prechorus are playful and like almost conversational. And then the chorus is this stew of oohs and aahs and it’s all ear candy. And like, OW! COME ON. Just like, scream OW! a few hundred times with me and you’ll understand.

7. What Makes You Beautiful

Ah, the song that started it all. There’s a reason that What Makes You Beautiful was a gigantic global smash and ignited the 21st century’s most popular vocal group. It’s fucking magical. Everything about it came together to make the world’s most digestible pop song, and then they filmed a music video that showed the world’s most digestible pop band. And like, there you go, mega international smash hit. But like for as global and digestible as the song is, it’s also brimming with the band’s personality. It doesn’t take itself too seriously and it’s incredibly fun and a little messy. And, y’know, great.

6. Drag Me Down

Have I ever been more hyped than when One Direction dropped this fucking bombshell on me randomly at midnight one day? Has my heart ever stopped faster than when Liam tweeted some shit about their new single? No. The answer is no. The release of Drag Me Down caught me by surprise and then proceeded to grab hold of my brain and imprint all over it. Drag Me Down is definitely One Direction in 2015, which is starkly different from One Direction in 2011. And like, that’s a good thing. It still doesn’t take itself too seriously and incredibly fun and a little messy, but this time it was also a little more confident. Less smiling at the ground, more telling people to step off. And like, still a huge, poppy bop.

5. Better Than Words

What happens when you combine a hugely catchy pop song, a fun lyrical conceit, and a ton of Liam Payne’s vocals? Better Than Words. A song that pleases both the ears and the wit. There’s something about the simplicity of using song titles throughout a song. And then the chorus explodes with an actual hook, and packs some musical merit behind that clever idea. And then Liam kind of just goes off, using the song as a vocal playground for his falsetto and his chest voice and everything in between. And it’s impossible to not grin at the whole thing.

4. What A Feeling

In the top 4, every song is #1 in my heart. What A Feeling is a goddamn masterpiece. One Direction like actually created this legitimately excellent piece of pop music. It is so perfectly produced that I almost don’t know what to say. It just creates this entire atmospheric vibe that envelops the entire song and gives it that dream-like quality. And the vocals are all so smooth and airy and float seamlessly along the melodies. When that sound really fills out in the chorus, the song goes from dreamy to transcendental and it’s a damn journey. 

3. One Thing

What Makes You Beautiful might’ve been the song that catapulted 1D to superstardom, but I’m like fairly certain One Thing is actually the song that crystallized the fanbase. Because One Thing, in so many ways, feels like the essence of 1D. The most 1D thing to ever 1D. As a song, it’s not all that different from WMYB, but just like even more carefree about the whole ordeal. It’s a big, hooky pop song with a loud chorus. But the One Thing music video, which is just One Direction rolling through the streets of London, jumping over each other in only somewhat matched clothing and generally following no discernible script basically became the image of 1D. They are stupid and goofy and individualized in a way that has since become synonymous with the band. It’s a great song and a better video.

2. Never Enough

Everything about this song is insane. It has vocal doo wops the entire time. It has weird grunting. It has like a weird honking sound. It has screaming. It has all sorts of absurdly messy adlibs. And I totally love all of it. Every damn part of it. The verses have this rapid fire delivery that builds momentum. And the prechoruses have this funky groove to them. And the chorus explodes. And like, the whole time Liam is just doing the most. There are adlibs and harmonies and melodies and backing vocals and then also that totally unhinged Michael Jackson build. The song presents itself as a cavalcade of insanity and Liam’s vocal abilities. And it’s just like the most fun. 

1. Stole My Heart

I need justice for Stole My Heart, the One Direction dance pop anthem of my dreams. Mostly, I need justice for Liam’s vocals on this song. I don’t entirely know what direction the producer gave Liam on this song, but I have to assume it was something to the effect of “fucking kill it.” Because he fucking kills it. He’s super breathy and airy and light but somehow still incredibly controlled and tight. And it’s like his voice was made for dance pop, even though we have 89 other songs in which he never sounds like this ever again. Because the world is the WORST. And yeah, okay, so he’s basically the only one who sings on the song, but that’s okay. Because did you hear him on it??? Stole My Heart is the single greatest human achievement of the 21st century and I just want that to be recognized.

There you go. That’s the ranking. Feel free to disagree! But like, know that you’re wrong.

[produce101imagines]

Live, Laugh, Drink?

R E Q U E S T !

Genre: Fluff

Member: Kim Jaehwan (ft. Park Woojin)

Summary: After a cool, casual drinking night at the house, an unexpected moment happens between Jaehwan and Woojin.

•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•

Clink.

“And one more sip for our guest of honor: Y/N!” Daniel had heartedly laughed after announcing that statement for the fifth time already.

The six men cheered on as you rolled your eyes. Within the past hour, the legal-enough members had been drinking glass after glass, bottle after bottle. It wasn’t even your birthday, so why were they drinking in my name? Nothing big had happened; Jisung just threw this get-together so we could all spend time with each other. All 12 of us.

“Ok. Ok. Enough drinking. Let’s do somethi-” You were cut off by the slurring of a certain boy with the unique laugh.

“NoOOoOoo Y/N. The night- *hiccup* The night just... Uhhh,” Jaehwan trailed off and laughed a bit after forgetting what he said.

“Idiot... ‘Started’,” Minhyun lowly said with a playful tilt of his head as he lazily swayed in his seat.

“Ok and?? I’m ready to get waSTED. WHOOOO,” Jaehwan hollered and laughed, followed with the laughter of a few other members.

“As I was saying, before someone interrupted,” you paused to glance at Jaehwan who seemed to be laughing at his shoes or something at the ground.

“We should do something with, you know, all the members.” You explained to the more-than-tipsy members, hoping the underaged members were listening. After all, they weren’t doing anything anyway so they had no choice but to listen.

Daehwi popped up from the couch he was just laying on.

“Yeah! I’m so bored. I need to do something. No one wants to play the games with me. These people are so bori- O. M. G. I just got lightheaded from getting up so quickly,” Daehwi spoke quickly and carefully laid down.

“Pfft. Are you sure you got lightheaded from getting up so quickly or from firing words too quickly, chatterbox?” Daniel called out to Daehwi as Seongwoo gave Daniel a high-five. 

“Ughhh. Daehwi what should we do?” You asked the boy so he doesn’t feel too bad for getting picked on a bit.

“I don’t know. Guanlin and Jinyoung went to sleep already,” sighed Daehwi from the couch. 

“Jihoon! Go upstairs and sleep with them,” Sungwoon said to Jihoon who was already falling asleep.

“What? No. I’m gonna play whatever you guys are playing,” Jihoon sleepily trailed off. 

You heard Daniel and Jisung laughing quietly between each other. You raised your eyebrow at them and they straightened up and tried oh so hard to stop laughing but it wouldn’t work.

Jaehwan was still looking at something on the floor.

Jisung announced, “Ok. We’re playing truth or dare. I’ll start. Jihoon, I dare you to go sleep upstairs right now.” Everyone giggled a bit as Jihoon huffed and got up from the couch. He dragged his feet and heavily made his way to the room to sleep.

Daehwi popped up from the couch again. “My turn! Minhy-” Daehwi had already started to talk before Daniel cut him off.

“Uh, no. It’s my turn,” Daniel said as Daehwi frowned but still let him talk.

“Daehwi, I dare you to follow Jihoon and go sleep as well. It’s too late for you youngsters to be awake,” Daniel teasingly dared Daehwi.

Daehwi rolled his eyes but still made his way towards where Jihoon went, muttering something about how the older members aren’t fun with him and mocking Daniel.

As soon as you heard the door shut, you turned to the two MMO boys.

“What was that all about? Don’t you want to hang out with everyone?”

No one replied at first and the atmosphere turned a bit dull.

Seongwoo spoke up.

“One sip in honor of the underage members not being able to experience such a wonderful drink?” He sheepishly smiled after.

The whole table started to laugh and so did you. Seongwoo always managed to brighten up the mood in the right way.

After drinking a bit more, (you may or may not have drunk a bit of the alcohol) you started to hear Jaehwan’s laugh. He was, again, looking down at the ground and was wondering what he was laughing at. You decided to peek under the table.

You screamed as you saw Woojin crawl his way to you, wearing a scary mask.

“AHHH STOP! STOP! I’LL STOP DRINKING JUST PLEASE STOP!” You screamed and could’ve sworn you felt sober in that split moment.

Jaehwan and Woojin laughed. Woojin, being your best friend, knew how much you hated being scared. You easily got annoyed and sensitive whenever you got a bit spooked but this was a little too much.

“We got you!! We’ve been planning this for soooooo long,” Jaehwan laughed, slurred and hiccuped all at the same time. Woojin got up from under the table and laughed along with Jaehwan. Needless to say, you made quite some noise as everyone stared at you in a peculiar way.

“Ugh. Don’t do that. You guys are annoying. Why don’t you guys do something together that’ll make you two shut up,” you angrily spoke as you glared at the laughing pair.

Jaehwan seemed to have heard you and shrugged with a big smile on his face.

“Ok.”

Jaehwan then leaned up, exaggeratedly swung his arms around Woojin, pushed the hair out of his face and pushed his lips on to Woojin’s. Woojin had his eyes wide open, as did everyone else. The kiss, as still as a picture, lasted for about ten seconds. Before Jaehwan pulled away, you took a quick picture of the kissing scene, planning to use it to remind Jaehwan of what he did that one blurry night. The room was definitely quiet now.

“EW THE TASTE OF JAEHWAN’S LIPS AND THE ALCOHOL IS NASTY,” Woojin complained as he wiped away his lips, cheeks blooming into a deep red color.

“My lips taste better without alcohol. You can try a taste tomorrow,” Jaehwan playfully winked at Woojin. Woojin groaned and went to the kitchen to find something to wash the taste out of his mouth.

You were shocked. The members drinking had their eyes fixed on Jaehwan, with the exception of Jisung, Seongwoo and Daniel laughing and telling each other “I told you!”

“Uh... That was unexpected,” you carefully said.

Jaehwan shrugged and said, “But it did make us shut up, and that’s exactly what you wanted, didn’t you?” He sunk back into his seat and lazily glanced around the room.

You heard shuffling and muffled “Go. Go. They’ll see us. Hurry!” from Daehwi and Jihoon. They had witnessed the kissing scene and as soon as the door closed, you heard laughing, cheering, a bit of mock-gagging and lots of kissing noises. 

“So... Y/N. Wanna shut up together?” Seongwoo asked with a smirk and sent a flying kiss your way.

“Ok anyway, this night is over. I’m going to sleep with the younger members. Have fun,” you hurriedly spoke and made your way to the room with the younger members.

After washing up and laying down on the bed, you closed your eyes. Before you fell asleep, you heard the older members saying something but it was muffled. You then heard a distinct, loud kissing noise, followed by a series of cheers, hollering and Jisung, Daniel and Seongwoo laughing their butts off.

Jisung laughed in between his words as he said, “Woojin liked it so much that he went in for a second one!!” 

You rolled your eyes for the last time that night.

•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•|•

Hey guys! Thank you thank you to the beautiful soul who requested this and waited patiently for my procrastinating-self to post it. I was busy studying for my DMV stuff but now I’ll be back on a roll! I start school this Monday so I know it’ll be hard to update but I’ll try to do my best to provide you guys with new stories! We both greatly appreciate requests as it gives us stuff to write about and makes it easier to update.

Hope you liked it!

❀Admin Malaysia

[keyofjetwolf]

Jet Wolf Summarizes Act 31

The manga and I kind of hate each other. This is unfortunate, but still, I’m determined to come out of this with something. Rather than spend energy on a liveblog that’s increasingly negative, I’m reading each manga act (mostly) silently, and then writing up summaries at the end. I won’t pull my punches. There’s going to be criticism and snark about the manga, either wholesale or in details. If that isn’t a thing you feel like reading, please skip this post!

A philosophical question opens our exploration of the manga today: Is it better to be irritated or bored? Because on the one hand, aggravation is hardly the most pleasant of experiences, particularly when it seems inevitable from issue to issue to issue. But on the other, IT KEEPS ME THE FUCK AWAKE AND GIVES ME SOMETHING TO TALK ABOUT.

SOMETHING I SEEM TO BE LACKING AT THE MOMENT

It’s not even that things didn’t happen, so much as I just didn’t CARE. And I mean “care” in this very specific manga context of critically low caring. But somehow even beyond the usual dull void that I’ve come to associate with the manga. Maybe it was that PE liveblog from earlier, maybe it reset my enjoyment levels so high that I’m simply insulated from its usual side effects.

But that isn’t going to get a summary written, so let’s fucking do this.

We open with Setsuna studying THINGS and also STUFF. There is DATA and SPIKES and TROUBLES. Also Reika shows up, for what generally appears to be no other reason than to seethe with jealousy of every little thing Motoki says, and intentionally trying to trap and punish him.

I dislike Motoki and Reika in the anime, but it’s on Motoki’s because he turns into a non-communicative petulant three year old for approximately no reason. In the manga, it’s pretty clear Reika is just a legitimately crappy human being no one should have a committed relationship with. THANKS FOR FLIPPING THAT SCRIPT MANGA GIRL POWER

Kaolinite and Tomoe meet with Pharaoh 90, who I have to say sounds like a fairly reasonable boss for a planet-sized eldritch horror.

I wonder if they have a vision plan and 401k matching. Also they talk a lot about crystals and lights and blah blah of course they do.

Kaolinite feels less job satisfaction than Tomoe, proving that even evil world-dominating organizations aren’t free from the patriarchy. She delegates to Tellu, who you may remember from the anime as “the plant one”, and that’s basically as much as you’re going to get from her in the manga, too.

In a rare burst of minor detail continuity, Chibi-Usa’s class gets their ceramic project back. Chibs, if you’ll recall from last time, made Mamoru make her a holy grail, and then smiled creepily as he and Usagi made out on top of it. The class also gets their new homework.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME “GIVE AWAY YOUR GARBAGE” IS THE FUCKING ASSIGNMENT

FOR THE WHOLE GODDAMN WEEK

NOT EVEN WRITE AN ESSAY ABOUT HOW IT MADE YOU FEEL OR GIVE A PRESENTATION ABOUT THE WONDERS OF GIVING IT’S JUST FUCKING HAND SOME SHIT OVER AND THAT’S IT YOU CAN AN “A” FOR THE WEEK

“HERE MS. GARBAGE CAN YOU’RE IMPORTANT TO ME WELL THAT’S DONE TIME TO FUCK OFF UNTIL NEXT MONDAY”

Clearly the only part worth noting is that Chibs decides to give hers to Hotaru on the basis of two entire conversations and with the full justification of “she’s beautiful and mysterious”.

SEEMS LEGIT

Chibs is about the only one to feel like this about Hotaru, it seems. At school, Hotaru’s getting picked on and laughed at and when she’s had enough and crushes a pencil case with her bare hand while looking one of the Mean Girls dead in the eye, they’re like “ohmigawd what is her DEAL” and write about her in their Burn Book.

At Crown, Usagi watches the rain fall and Has Emotions. She says she wants to talk to Haruka and Michiru, but she really means Haruka because she will make exactly zero effort to talk to Michiru later because fuck Michiru, I guess. She wants Mako and Ami to help, but they’re busy, and Usagi pouts about it. Rei and Minako are feeling each other up in an alleyway and having a considerably better time than any one of us right now.

Mako’s “busy” means she’s doing shit with the gardening club, which will be our exposition vehicle for today. There’s apparently a hot new plant everyone’s talking about (WHY DOES NOBODY HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO IN TOKYO) called a “Tellurian”, which seems completely safe and certain to cause no problems.

At Crown -- oh maybe we were at Juuban Middle earlier. Well, let’s roll with it -- Ami meets up with Minako and Rei, whose clothes are disheveled and they won’t quite make eye contact. But Ami has Theories And Ideas and thankfully doesn’t notice. “Infinity Academy is evil!” they put forth, because they didn’t already conclude that three issues ago. Usagi’s also doing work. She’s found Google, and it’s amazing.

On the way home, Mako passes by a random flower shop with Tellurians in stock which is a pretty awesome trick seeing as how just a few pages ago we were told they were only available at Mugen and were selling out. Since it’s Mako’s issue, she buys one.

As Usagi arrives home, Chibs is getting ready to go out. You know, I just realized we haven’t seen Mamoru at all yet? I TAKE BACK EVERYTHING THIS ISSUE IS TO BE REVERED AS AN INSTANT CLASSIC. Usagi invites herself to also go to Hotaru’s, so she has a front row seat to Chibs giving her gift-to-my-most-important-person holy grail to Hotaru.

“Hotaru?! This is only your fourth conversation with her, how could you give it to Hotaru!”

“STFU Usagi, you rode a haunted bus and followed Aunt Rei home with hearts in your eyes before you’d even said hello.”

And this is how Usagi came to accept that Chibi-Usa was, truly, her daughter.

Unfortunately Hotaru can’t stop being creepy for five fucking minutes, and she stares at them with endless eye voids and passes out and tries to take Chibs’ ginzuishou and has a creepy fucking voice font

and god damn, Chibs, you should maybe vet your potential future girlfriends just a little.

Usagi misses all this though as she’s busy nosing around the house. Tomoe finds her and scares the shit out of her, so she and Chibs leave just in time to catch a glimpse of Pluto on the streets. Chibs suddenly remembers she’s supposed to care about Pluto, and all of this would have just meant so much more if she hadn’t been “I guess I’m Pluto now lol” over her still-warm corpse just a few issues ago. EMOTIONAL CONTINUITY IS IMPORTANT TAKEUCHI

Is it Mako’s apartment or a hydroponics lab? They don’t have time to think about it, as Mako and Minako both immediately pass out. When they wake up, all of Mako’s plants are dead, except the Tellurian, so Mako pulls a knife out of nowhere like she’s Doc fucking Holligay and shanks it. Seems legit.

Usagi and Chibs are about to head home when all the girls arrive at the train station (don’t ask me how all that timing makes sense just go with it). They’re going to confront ... someone, like I sincerely don’t know what they fucking learned in any of this that they didn’t figure out issues ago, but sure. Usagi’s going to go too, but then she spots Haruka and Michiru and chases after them, instead. WAY TO BACK UP YOUR GIRLS USAGI.

Remember how she said she wanted to talk to both of them?

EVEN WHEN MICHIRU’S ALSO THERE SHE’S NOT THERE

Usagi goes to Haruka’s apartment and is all “WHY WON’T YOU TALK TO ME” and Haruka’s like “I wear mini-skirts now, Usagi, stop trying to make it weird.”

So the other Senshi drag her ass back to the task at hand, and they explore Mugen’s botanical gardens which the school of course absolutely has. People are dead (or not, no one ever cares), and the Senshi feel their strength fading. Tellu emerges, sounding exactly like every other member of the Witches 5 before her, ONLY SHE’S THE PLANT ONE YOU GUYS.

Then Setsuna ... awakens as Pluto? Or something? And Haruka automatically teleports to her (Michiru is also there), which seems a weird thing to have happen to Senshi who are supposed to be constantly isolated and independent but fine.

Ah shit, Mamoru got a page. WE WERE SO CLOSE TO BEING FREE

Mako attacks, as does Usagi, but no good. So Chibs wishes REALLY REALLY HARD.

If that fucking works, my next trip to the DMV just got SO much shorter.

Chibs gets a rod too and attacks, and to the surprise of no one, it does absolutely nothing, but I for one appreciate the effort. Then Pluto Dead Screams Tellu in the fucking face, and we’re one more mini-boss down.

Everyone is shocked, shocked I tell you!

[thatkatiecooney]

The Element EVERYTHING in Your Story Needs

To all the writers who have ever felt lost, alone, and completely confused during the labyrinthine journey that is writing anything, and felt like screaming this at your story . . .

There's hope.

There's a light at the end of that darn tunnel. First, let me describe how I used to fight my way out of these periods of confusion and hopelessness. 

Usually, I would try to force myself to get back into the groove of the story. I would reread it, and be yelling at myself in my head, "Remember why you love it! LOVE your book again! Keep reading and FALL IN LOVE, damn it!" I'd go over descriptions, bits of dialogue, banter between the characters. I'd go over settings and imagery, and try to make myself remember how much they'd once excited me. I'd read things that had made me laugh when I typed them, sentences that I was particularly proud of, paragraphs that made me feel particularly clever. But the thing was, it didn't work. 

I didn't care.  

What was the problem? The problem was some of those descriptions, settings, images, and witty episodes of bantering had no Story Reason to be there. They were just there because they amused me. Just because I found the imagery beautiful. Just because I found a sentence or joke really clever and wanted to share my wit with the world. But the world didn't care about my wit. Because the world (the people reading my book) knew subconsciously that there was no story to give that so-called witty sentence substance and meaning. I could create the most breath-taking images, I could make the most well-rounded living and breathing character, I could make a setting that you wanted to run away from home and live inside . . . and it didn't matter. If the thing didn't have a purpose for being there within the narrative, nobody cared. And I didn't either. 

So what is a Story Reason? 

Everything in a story exists to support one of three things. 

1. The A-story: The surface plot, the quest of the main character to achieve a specific tangible goal. What the story is about on the surface. 

2. The B-Story: The love story, or relationship of the thing. Usually this relationship is instrumental in causing the third element, which is . . .  

3. The Character Arc. The theme of the story, the purpose, the piece of truth the story seeks to prove to the main character and the audience. 

If something in a story doesn't contribute to the progress of these three, there's no reason we should care about it. It has no point. Because in the end, all we care about is the story!

When it comes to scenes, story reason means continuity. It means the way the story unfolds logically. If every scene is there for a darn good reason, the scenes after and before will make total sense, they'll connect seamlessly, a steady progression of events. Every scene's turn triggers the next scene. 

And to do this, every scene must be able to be linked with three words: Because of that.

Because of the turn of one scene . . . 

The next scene happens. 

And because of the turn of that scene the next scene happens.

To illustrate how this works, let's look at a small movie you might have heard about called Zootopia. (Thanks to @inked-withlove for the movie suggestion!)

 So let's start at this point, the turn of the scene with Clawhauser and Judy searching the file on Emmitt Otterton. 

Turn: "I have a lead." 

Because of that . . .

Judy has to get Nick to tell her what he knows about Otterton.

Turn: It all goes poorly, and now Nick and Judy are stuck together by an incriminating adorable carrot recorder. (The B Story, the relationship, has intertwined with the A Story.)

Because of that . . .

Nick takes Judy to the place he saw Otterton go, a place he thinks will cause her to give up. 

Turn: She doesn't quit, she marches right in. (B Story: Nick sounds surprised, and a little impressed, that she didn't back down.)

Because of that . . . 

She has to question a rude yoga-performing elephant. 

Turn: Though the elephant is absolutely no help, the seemingly addled yak is more than helpful -- he even remembers the license plate number of the car Emmitt left in. 

Because of that . . .

Nick thinks his part in this endeavor is complete. But Judy remembers that she's not in the system yet, and thus can't run a plate. Nick, however, can. And he's going to, or else. 

Turn: It just so happens that he has a pal at the DMV. 

Because of that . . .

Sloths. He takes her to a DMV run by sloths and wastes as much of her precious dwindling time as he can.

Turn: “It's night?!”

Because of that . . .

Legitimate Enterprise Car Service (at least that’s what it’s called in the screenplay) is closed. Judy doesn't have a warrant and Nick is enjoying her suffering tremendously. After a spat, she tosses the carrot over the fence instead of handing it to him.

Turn: Because she has now seen a shifty low-life climbing the fence, she has probable cause, and doesn't need a warrant. She can go in. (B Story: Nick is looking at her with more respect.)

Because of that . . .

They find the car and begin investigating. The car is a crime scene; claw marks everywhere, the missing otter's wallet . . . and a cocktail glass etched with a "B".

Turn: And it all adds up for Nick. This car belongs to Mr Big, a notorious crime boss. And his polar bear henchman are right outside. They grab Judy and Nick and yank them off screen. 

Because of that  . . .

Judy and Nick are wedged between the bear henchman, on their way to face Mr Big. 

Turn: Nick sold him a very expensive rug that happened to be made from the fur of a skunk's butt. Or in other words, Mr Big really doesn't like Nick.

Because of that . . .

They wait fearfully for Mr Big to appear, and even when he's revealed to be a tiny shrew, Nick still launches into obsequious and panicked mode. He tries talking his way out of it, but Mr Big really REALLY doesn't like him. And when Judy shouts at him that she's a cop and she has evidence on him --

Turn: “Ice 'em.”

Because of that . . .

"No icing anyone at my wedding!" Fru Fru Shrew is not a happy camper. Father and daughter bicker about his promise of no murder on her wedding day, and the fact that "I have to, baby. Daddy has to." Until -- 

Turn: "She's the bunny who saved my life yesterday. From that giant doughnut!" Well, Judy is now in Mr Big's good books. He's going to pay her kindness forward. Nick is floored. 

I'm gonna stop there.

SO! After going through that analysis of how the scenes are linked together, let's abandon the "everything needs a story reason to be in there" rule, and see what happens. 

After the scene where Judy and Nick reluctantly join forces, we could add a scene where Nick is trying to remember the name of the place, and where it is. Then we could have them asking around, searching the city, refusing to ask for directions, lots of banter. THEN we can finally get to The Mystic Springs Oasis.

And after they get the plate number, maybe Nick grabs the carrot pen and makes a run for it. Then we can have a chase scene, but he gets away. Then we can have Judy trying to run the plate on her own, before realizing she isn't in the system, and failing. Then we can have a scene where she has to track down Nick again. Then a scene where she figures out how to blackmail him into it. THEN they finally get to the DMV. 

And you know what would have happened then?

Zootopia would have made everyone bored. 

All of these inserted scenes are unnecessary. Sure, they might add conflict, add complications to Judy's quest, but they're ultimately just filler. They're just there for the sake of bulking out the story. This is why that tip I hear so often in writing circles always perplexes me: "Figure out the worst possible thing that can happen to your character, then do that." If people went with this rule, they'd just keep throwing terrible things at the characters for no apparent reason, one after another, and the reader or audience would be expected to be entertained by it (but wouldn't be). It would be like cartoons before Mickey Mouse came along and applied story to animation: before, cartoons were just gag after gag, slapstick situations mashed together like a funny video compilation. Except with books and movies, it would just be conflict-heavy situations strung together, taking an inordinate amount of time to make any actual progress.  

Once you make sure everything has a purpose within the narrative, things get so much better.  And I find, when I reread my work I don't have to scream at myself to "love your book or else" if everything has a reason for being there. And instead of feeling like yelling at my story like an angry overworked crab, I feel a lot more like this gif.

I hope it works for you too.

[rickycorderbro-blog]

Relaxation and Revelations||Ricky and Quinn

loose lips sink ships

The road to recovery was slow...as....fucking... balls. Ricky thought being cooped up in his apartment resting had to be the most boring thing he could possibly do since with only one working hand he was constrained to playing games that were turn-based or just laying on his couch and moping while watching Futurama reruns for the forty-seventh time. He'd eaten all the junk food, drank way too much, and was seriously considering developing a small drug habit when his doorbell rang brightly. Annoyingly brightly. Like it was rubbing it in Ricky's face that it worked properly and he didn't. There was a brief moment when Ricky considered trying to struggle into a shirt... but he didn't feel like leaving his guest out on the porch for twenty minutes while he made a fool out of himself. Instead he pulled the door open in all of his shirtless glory to reveal Quinn on his doorstep. "Oh hey man. Probably shoulda taken the time for a shirt but... fuck it. Come on in."

Quinn knew that Ricky was hurt. He had seen the way the bone had snapped on the camera. It was sickening, especially the sound. It was odd to keep having images of it blur though his mind when he thought of Ricky. But he still wanted to see him, to make sure that Ricky was feeling better, and it didn't hurt that he liked to see Ricky. He'd also brought something. Quinn walked, and rang the doorbell, hoping that Ricky wasn't sleeping or doing something that he was interrupting. But then he came to the door, shirtless of course. He flushed slightly, though perhaps less than he usually did. "Hey," he said with a small shrug. He wasn't going to complain about Ricky being shirtless. "I figured you could use some company?" he asked with a small smile, holding up a bag. "I brought snacks and beer. I have a fake,"

A broad grin crossed Ricky's face as he ushered Quinn through the door, "Sorry the place is a mess. Cleaning's a fucking whore now because of the arm." Shutting the door he paused the episode he was on and raised an eyebrow, "You've got a fake? How is that even close to effective. You look like a prepubescent milkmaid. However... I'm out of booze so I'm not going to turn beer down. Nor snacks... big fan of snacks over here." Wandering into his bedroom he grabbed a zip-up hoodie and shrugged into it, zipping it over the cast, "Company is also good. Never hate on some company." He gestured around him, "Make yourself at home. Can I get you anything? It'll take me twice as long but I can manage it."

"I don't really care all that much about how messy it is," he said with a shrug, glancing around. "My room can get kind of messy when I'm really into a game or distracted or something for a while. And you're hurt so...," Quinn shrugged. He smirked for a moment, before turning a bright red. "It scans," he mumbled, looking away from Ricky. He'd hacked into the DMV and gotten himself a legitimate ID. According to them he was 21. "Good, I'm glad," he said softly, with a nod. He felt far younger than he normally did. Although the sweatshirt covered up his chest, Quinn was actually a little glad that he put it on. It hid the cast and the memories of the other night. "Oh, no I'm fine," he said with a shrug, plopping down onto the couch and smiling softly. "I just figured you might be bored with your arm like that,"

Ricky cracked open two beers and brought one of them over to Quinn before taking his own, leaning against the kitchen counter, "I feel like if I start using the arm as an excuse for shit my life is going to fall even more into ruin than it already is. Which is pretty goddamn ruinous. So I'll clean tomorrow or some shit." He smiled at Quinn's bright-red skin tone before pouring some chips into a big bowl and bringing it to the couch, "I'm so bored. Oh my god. I can't do anything. I can only play Pokemon because everything else requires two hands and believe me.... I'm pretty goddamn close to having caught them all." Another wan smile and a half shrug, "but you didn't come over to hear me bitch. Sup?"

Quinn nodded, that did make some sense. "I guess that makes sense. Can't let it ruin your life right?" Quinn said optimistically. Quinn idly fixed his hair and squirmed lightly in his seat as his flush receded. "Oh," Quinn perked up a bit. He could help with that. "There are a bunch of games that use just the mouse," he said with a small smile. "A lot of strategy games like Civilization 6," he pointed out. "But that's only if you like those types of games," he said with a small shrug. "Anything turn based," he added as an afterthought. "Um, nothing really. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I figured you would be bored and stuff,"

"Q it already ruined my life. I just gotta stop the bleeding at this point." Taking a swig Ricky plopped down in the armchair across from Quinn and managed to squeeze a wry smile out of his face, "I'll try anything at this point. Neven recommended I try Fallout but I definitely need both hands for that shit so I'm on board for anything that's mouse oriented and turn based. Never really tried that genre before. More of a headshot and sneak kill dude myself." Another sip of the beer.... which wasn't great... and he managed a more sincere smile "Thanks Quinn. That's sweet of you. I managed to get myself a new job and everything so I'm not going full on crazy. Just mostly crazy. But hey. You're here now, so that definitely helps with the crazy. What's been new with you?"

Quinn blinked and froze at the name Q. He looked over at Ricky, trying to seem calm. Did he know? There was no way he could, Quinn was perfect at hiding it. But Ricky didn't mention it again, and he let out a soft sigh. He was safe. Ricky didn't know. "Oh, Fallout definitely wouldn't work. It's a shooter," he said with a frown. At least the newer ones wouldn't, maybe the older ones would but he never played them. Quinn took a long sip of his beer and set the bottle back down again, looking at it with a slight frown. It was obvious that Ricky wasn't really taking this quite as well as he could. Well, Quinn probably wouldn't be taking it well either. He wasn't the best at making people feel better. "Oh, that's good. Partial crazy is good right?" Quinn laughed softly. "Oh... ugh, nothing really. Honestly," other than watching Ricky get attacked that is. "Just games and stuff. School started so that kind of sucks,"

"Yeah I bought it and noticed that. Ah well. I'll play it in a couple months when I'm back on track and shit. Looks cool at least." Finishing his beer he brought the empty to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water, leaning against the kitchen counter as they talked, "I don't have any monday classes but I've gotta go in tomorrow morning for the first class of my last semester of undergrad. But yeah... partial crazy is good. Better than the alternative but not being able to move as much as I'mused to sucks. I can't go running, I can't work out, I can't swim. I just work, sulk, game. Work, sulk, game. Throw in some netflix and that's my daily routine now." Realizing that he was a giant sack of morose, Ricky tried to lift the mood of the conversation somewhat, "But... I've got great friends who've been helping me through. You, Veronica, Neven, Molly... everyone's been super nice which honestly I'd be going so much more insane without your guys' support."

"Yeah. You should. They're really good games, and once you can use your hand again you'll love them," Quinn said, looking up at Ricky brightly. He was trying to cheer him up, and he felt like he was doing a bad job right now. Quinn sipped his beer slowly, not wanting to actually get drunk in front of Ricky. "You only have one less?" Quinn asked, curious. He hadn't realized that Ricky was so close to being done with school. "I mean... without the sulking that sounds like a good life," Quinn admitted. Mostly what his days were like. If you replaced work with hacking. Quinn grinned brightly when Ricky referred to him as a friend. It was something at least. "That's good. I'm glad that at least we can help a little bit you know? Better than just moping all day,"

"Neven mentioned something about factions? He said he had to side with one more of them to get all the different endings. So I'm excited to play it. Y'know... when I can again." He watched Quinn nurse his beer, nodding along with the question, "Just one more semester and I'll be a Bachelor of Science in Marine Biology. Then I'll be right back in school in the fall for Graduate work. I got into UMAC's grad program." Standing up quickly Ricky pushed his hair out of his eyes, "Shit I"m a bad host. You want something to eat? I got a ton of food. I can whip you up something if you're hungry. And yeah. Having friends around always makes it good. Y'all are definitely lifesavers."

"Yeah there are a bunch of factions. You pick one and it changes the ending, sort of," Quinn said, trying his best not to give away the good bits of the game. "But yeah, you definitely should. It's gonna be great. You'll love it," he said happily. "Oh! That's awesome. Congratulations," he said happily. It meant that Ricky would be staying here, which was great. Quinn just shook his head, sipping his beer again. "No I'm good," he said with a small laugh. "I don't really eat all that much,' he admitted with a small shrug. "Good, I'm really glad," Quinn said, perking up happily. He pulled his legs up underneath him and turned to look at Ricky with a smile. "So is there anything you wanted to do?"

Ricky pondered thoughtfully "Huh. Guess it means I'm going to spend the next giant chunk of my life glued to that particular game. Gotta see all the endings after all." He grinned across the room at Quinn as he cracked a second beer, "Four long grueling years of keeping my GPA above a 3.8 but it looks like I"m gonna finally manage to wear that scratchy black robe and stupid hat." He took a deep breath, trying to avoid the looming spectre of graduate and adult life before turning to watch Quinn curl up comfortably on his couch, "I'm open. What do you wanna do? Really I'm just happy for the company. You can game if you want. I'll play some Pokemon and we can just hang out. Really it's up to you."

"Probably. But you gotta finish the Witcher 3 first," he pointed out with a smile. "Four years is a long time," Quinn mumbled. He still had all of that to look forward to. He wasn't sure how he felt about that honestly. It had to be better than high school though. "That's good. It'll be fun," Quinn smiled. "Oh, I don't mind, really," Quinn said. He was indecisive when it came to hanging out with other people. "So you pick what we should do, since I'm here to cheer you up,"

"I doooooooooo." Ricky chuckled and drank, "You know if I flunk out of graduate school because the men in my life can't stop giving me good game recommendations it's gonna be you're couch I'm sleeping on when I have to turn to standing on street corners for money." A gruff chuckled and he adjusted his cast under the hoodie he was wearing, "You're really making life difficult for me right now, Q-dawg. I really don't feel like making a decision right now. Fine. I'm gonna boot up the ps4 and leave the controller on the couch and you do what you wanna do and I'm gonna sit here on the armchair with my DS. Sound good?"

"I don't think Karen and Jared would appreciate it if you plopped onto my couch for a while," he said with a laugh. "Unless it was for a day or two," he pointed out. "That's not helpful," Quinn whined, flopping onto the couch and looking over at the TV. "Fine, I'll figure something out," he said, reaching over and grabbing the controller. "What games do you have?"

A broad shrug and Ricky let a loud laugh out "I think I'd be a good enough hooker where I could keep myself in a decently nice apartment. Don't worry. I won't come knocking on your door." He looked over at his friend and grinned, looking at the still mostly full beer bottle "you gotta catch up, dude. Put that fake to good use." Another shrug and he blew hair out of his eyes, it was in desperate need of a trim, "Witcher, Battlefront, Broforce, Dishonored 2, bunch of random shit that was on sale. Feel free to make yourself a profile on my PlayStation. I'm sure you'll be over here enough to use it."

"You'd probably be a great hooker," Quinn mumbled softly under his breath, before laughing at the joke. "Well, just don't drop out," he said simply. "Oh, yeah," he said, looking at the bottle and taking a bigger gulp. He didn't want to get sick, and he definitely couldn't chug. "I'm sure I can find something," Quinn said, a big grin on his face as he started setting up a profile. Visiting more often would definitely be fun. "What kind of team do you have on pokemon?"

Quinn said something under his breath but it was just soft enough where with his shitty hearing Ricky couldn't quite pick it up. "What was that? Didn't quite hear that. Had something in my ear." He watched the young man drink with a wry grin "okay so we'll have to teach you how to drink properly. I'm gonna get another beer. One of mine. So I don't drink all of yours." From the kitchen he watched Quinn set up a profile on the console "I try to keep it balanced but I've definitely got my favorites. Decidueye is my bitch-fucker because Spirit Shackle is a hella dope move. But I try hard to keep something decently leveled for any type I come across."

"Nothing," he said with a smile and shrug. "Just talking to myself," Quinn blushed a little, hoping Ricky hadn't heard him. "I don't really have people to drink with so...," he said with a small shrug, booting up Dishonored 2. "I brought them for us though," Quinn said, turning around to look at Ricky. "That's good. Balanced teams are the best," he nodded. He didn't have the new game though, so he didn't know what Decidueye was.

Narrowing his eyes Ricky returned to his seat on the armchair, propping his feet up on the coffee table in between them "I don't believe you. Not even a little." Ricky nodded, holding the DS stylus between his teeth, "Fair enough. You can drink here. But know I'm gonna make you sleep on the couch if you have any significant amount of booze. I will steal your keys don't even test that." He watched the opening menu for Dishonored flash up on his tv and let out a tiny sigh of contentment. It was nice. To just hang out with someone normal. Or, if Quinn wasn't normal, someone who kept it tight enough under wraps not to matter. "So. Karen and Jared are yourrrrrrrrrr what exactly?"

Quinn flushed, rolling his eyes and pretending to act cool. "It was nothing, he said with a pout, looking up at Ricky with big eyes, trying to act innocent. "I walked over here," he pointed out. "I don't have a car, it's Karen and Jared's, but I don't use it much," Quinn explained. "I like to walk places, and it's not like town is big," he hummed softly. "Oh, they adopted me," he said simply. He forgot that there was no way Ricky would actually know that.

"God fucking dammit, Quinn." He pulled a frown and sighed heavily. "What is it with you people? You and Nev-.... you guys walking around outside like it's summer. Swear to me that if it's snowing and you need to get somewhere you'll call me instead of walking. I fucking worry." Ricky drew a hissy breath in through his teeth "shit man I'm sorry. Didn't mean to bring anything up. I'm sorry."

Quinn arched an eyebrow and just laughed. "I like walking in the winter. It's the best time to walk when it's snowing," he grinned. "But I'll let you know okay? If I do need a ride. I usually don't," he pointed out with a big grin. "You didn't. I like them a lot. I'm very happy," he said simply and shrugged. They were the best foster parents he could get, and now they were actually his adopted ones.

Ricky grumbled softly, focusing more on the gameboy and beer in his hand than the words that came out of his mouth "humans. Never think about the weather appropriately. Y'all became apex predators and your dumb as a box of rocks." He took another long sip and glanced over at Quinn from under his long lashes "that's good I'm glad man I know what it's like to be..... parentless. It's rough so I'm glad they're working out for you. Shit's important." Turning his gaze back to the tv he gestured towards the screen "who are you gonna play as?"

Quinn blinked. "What?" he asked. Did he just actually say that? "Did you just say humans? As if you aren't human?" his eyes were wide and the controller lay forgotten in his lap. "Are you? One of those supernatural creatures? Like... not evil though right? Please don't be evil,"

Ricky froze, suddenly aware of his monumental fuckup "you're drunk. You're definitely drunk and you definitely didn't hear me right." He let the silence hang in the air for a moment as he realized there was no way Quinn would buy that; halfway through his first beer as he was. "Fucking fuck fuck fuck. You cannot tell a ​soul​, Quinn. It's super dangerous for me if the wrong people know because they'd kill me in a heartbeat for my skin. But yeah I'm fuckin supernatural. And not evil. Well no more than anyone else"

"I'm not drunk!" Quinn said, his voice rising a bit. "I only had one beer, and didn't even finish it," he said, pointing to the beer still on the table. "Shit," he practically jumped up onto the couch, eyeing Ricky as if just looking at him could reveal what he was. "What are you then? Not human obviously," he hummed, eyes narrowing. Not that actually saying what he was would really help him figure it out.

"Okay captain puberty, no need to squeak. We're almost deaf on land but I still heard that." He heaved a giant sigh as Quinn put distance between them "I'm not a danger to you. I swear. We're carnivorous but we don't eat humans. And watch it with the obviously. Aside from my teeth I pass for human amazingly well." Another sigh and Ricky got up and headed to the kitchen, cracking another beer and draining it in one go. "I'm a selkie."

"I've been attacked by a lot of shit recently," he mumbled, eyes narrowing slightly. Quinn huffed though, sitting down a little. If Ricky had wanted to attack him then he would have already. He probably didn't have anything to worry about. Probably. "What's a selkie?" he asked, blinking. He had no clue what that was. Couldn't he have been something nice? Like a good wizard or unicorn or something?

"I'm 6'4 in my human form, I'm insanely well muscled, and I have a mouth full of razor sharp fangs. If I wanted to attack you I would have done it already. I've never killed a human in my life. Gotten in a couple of bar fights but that has nothing to do with what I am. Just with drunk assholes." Ricky sighed and leaned forward, setting his good arm on his knee "I'm a human that can turn into a seal. Or a seal that can turn into a human. Take your pick they're both right." He sighed and shut his eyes. Why couldn't he have kept his mouth shut. Now he was going to lose a friend.

"I," Quinn began, before shutting his mouth. Ricky was right, of course. He just groaned, running his hands over his face. Why did all of this have to happen now? All of this weird supernatural shit was going on and he just wanted to finish high school and go to college and continue hacking. Was that so much to ask? Apparently it was. Because now his crush was seal creature thing. "A seal? A seal? Couldn't you at least be, like, a fucking mermaid or something, fuck,"

"Oh no man. You do ​NOT​ want to fuck with mermaids. They're nothing like the fairy tails and if they get you you're dead. You're so dead. And it is gonna hurt the whole damn time." He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed heavily. "I'm sorry. I.... this is who I am. I know it's awkward and weird but. It's me. Sorry." Ricky really felt shitty for dumping it all on a quinn like that, but once the floodgates had opened there was no easy way to close them again. "Besides seals are awesome, dude. I can hold my breath for 20 minutes."

"Great. Mermaids are evil. Fucking fantastic," Quinn groaned and flopped onto his back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. "Anything else I should know?" he groaned softly, looking over at Ricky with a sigh. "It's not... It's not your fault or anything. I've just... Apparently my winter break is when everything supernatural decides to either attack me or like, show up," he threw his hands up in the air. Oddly enough, finding out that Ricky was a creature was... not terrible. Quinn wasn't as nervous around him for one. Maybe it was just the shock of it all. "I guess that's kind of cool," he mumbled, looking over at Ricky.

"It helps if you don't think of them like the beautiful women from the stories and more like what they actually are... horrifying enormous angler fish with really developed lures that look like beautiful men and women... and really really really sharp teeth. Never help a drowning person here in AC. Ever. like 80% of the time it's gonna be a mermaid and you want nothing to do with that." Ricky shrugged at Quinn's question, "I have twice the amount of blood you do. I transform by putting on a skin. I have to change a couple of times a week. If I don't I'll go crazy and eventually die. The only thing that doesn't change about me in the transformation is my teeth so I've gotta wear fake teeth. I promise I won't attack you though. Not my style. Plus if I did I'd have fewer people to hang out with and that would suck." Looking over at Quinn he crossed his fingers he hadn't weirded the man out entirely, "Oh and I"m almost deaf and I'm colorblind but I can see really well in the dark. Anything else you wanna know?"

Quinn listened to Ricky as he explained all the things he didn't know. About mermaids and then about himself. "Fuck," he said, getting a little bit overwhelmed by, well, everything. This was a mess. "Got it. Don't save drowning people," he said sarcastically. This was insane. "And you put on a fucking skin? Which sounds pretty gross by the way," his sarcasm was coming out as a way to cope right now. "And you're basically just... a seal person. Who can't hear and could probably kill me with your teeth," he huffed, sitting up suddenly. "Fuck," he really didn't know what else to say.

Quinn appeared to be struggling a little and it wasn't as if Ricky could really blame him. "The skin isn't nearly as gross as the mucus I secrete to slide into it." he deadpanned, looking down at his shoes, "It's like I produce my own lube." Nodding along to Quinn's statements he shrugged, "You got it. I'm a seal person. Who would never ever do anything to hurt you. You're a friend, Quinn. Me being... what I am doesn't change the definition of friendship. You're someone I care about and you're cool and I wouldn't put you in harm's way."

"Ew," Quinn mumbled, wrinkling his nose at the thought of Ricky just covered in... mucous. "Can you just, like, stop talking about that for a minute," he shuddered slightly. He paused for a moment, looking up at Ricky and then sitting up slightly. "Alright, yeah, I know you wouldn't. It's just a lot okay?"

"I know it's a lot." Ricky sat up and dug into pockets, fishing out a set of keys and tossing them next to Quinn on the couch. "Bring it back next time you come over. It's snowing out and you're not fucking walking at night." Pushing himself off the armchair he snapped his DS shut and gave Quinn a wan smile, "It's a shit thing to dump on you and I am sorry. But. Hopefully this doesn't fuck our friendship up too much. You're welcome here anytime." He went into his bedroom and shut the door behind him, leaving Quinn an opportunity to leave. Life as a selkie trying to get by was far too fucking complicated.

"Yeah it is," he mumbled, blinking as keys were thrown at him. "What? I don't need to take your car," Quinn said, but Ricky was already leaving. "Fuck," he mumbled. He didn't want to lose a friend. And Ricky was... well he was Ricky. Things were confusing now, but Ricky still wanted to be his friend at least. "I'll bring it back tomorrow," he called through the door and headed outside with a huff.