#that is just the inevitable fate of all adults regardless of how many friends they have or their relationship status

[kumashire]

I try to be Good and Strong and Independent Etc. and mind my business and stay in my lane and focus on improving myself and stay busy with my Independent hobbies but I don't think anyone likes to feel unloved and annoying all the time. I think that would start to wear on anyone a bit

[shihalyfie]

How to meet (or reunite with) your Digimon partner, according to 02

Here’s a post dedicated to those of you who are worried or sad about Kizuna’s premise, or how the way it ends is supposed to lead up to the 02 epilogue, and are thinking of that elephant-in-the-room question of “so then how do they get their partners back?” I’m not the Kizuna staff, so I can’t say anything for sure, but I can tell you that 02 gives us some interesting leads here!

You’re probably thinking “weren’t Kizuna and the problem of partnership dissolution made after 02? Isn’t this an Adventure movie? Why are you bringing 02 into this?” Ah, but you see, that might be true if you’re thinking of it on a technical plot level, but 02 as a series isn’t as thematically displaced from Kizuna as you might think, especially when the exact same real-life incident about a kid skipping grades, the one that literally was the foundation for 02′s creation to begin with, was brought back 20 years later for Menoa’s backstory. Certainly, a lot of the plot points introduced in Kizuna are new to it, but the themes and things it wants to say about self-acceptance and how to pursue happiness have very deep parallels to 02 -- which means that it’s not much of a stretch to think that some of the answers to the questions presented in Kizuna can be found in 02, too.

While it’s true that “getting your partner back from adulthood existential-crisis induced disappearance” is not a problem that necessarily presented itself in 02, remember that we’re dealing with a lot of theme parallels here -- a Digimon is part of one’s heart, and the central characters of both narratives (Ken and Menoa) had backstories that came from the same real-life story, one that warns that pressuring a kid into “adult” situations that they’re not emotionally prepared to handle will mess them up and cause them to lose their sense of self. The answer to the question of “how to get a partner back” in Kizuna was only pursued by the very scientifically-minded Menoa, who mashed keys on the keyboard and played around with egg data to get it to work, but this is Digimon, where these kinds of fateful meetings and evolutionary moments happen because of the heart, and everyone depicted lost their partners for reasons related to mentality and not science (remember, Menoa lost Morphomon at 14). Has Menoa done any real introspection in the last eight years? Probably not.

So, back in 02, when Ken did lose his sense of self, he eventually came back to his senses and decided to reclaim Wormmon. Thanks to how the plot worked, Wormmon merely “died” and was set to be reborn at the Village of Beginnings, but...

Just being reborn by the mechanics of the plot wouldn’t do it. Ken would never be able to find Wormmon again until he accepted something else, which is...

...himself. Everything good and bad about him, what he’d done in the past, how he has to move on with that, and how to move on with the person he actually is instead of the shell of the Kaiser. And with that, he is led to Wormmon, and is able to start the process of repairing their relationship.

So the point made here in 02 episode 23 is: one will only be able to be reunited with their partner if they can accept everything about themselves and become able to move on -- something that Menoa, who forced herself into the role of an “adult” in the hopes of getting more acceptance among her peers and eventually drowned herself in nostalgia, was most certainly not doing over the course of the movie.

So anyway, we get to 02 episode 50, and the parallel becomes even less subtle -- “a Digimon partner” is given a very direct correlation to “one’s own personal aspirations and dreams”. If you look back at the entire plot of 02 up to this point, with Ken and the Dark Seed children, all of them have been shoving aside “themselves” and “what they wanted to do” in an effort to please others -- to become well-behaved, studious, athletic, whatever society expected of them, instead of what they wanted to do. 

So all of the kids admit all of the embarrassing, “undignified” dreams that they’d been holding back because they’d felt that they weren’t “allowed” to have them (following Daisuke’s shameless example of admitting that he’s fine with doing something as simple as running a ramen shop), and are encouraged to be a bit shameless about it and forget what society wants them to do, instead of what they want to do. The word “belief” is brought up a lot in this episode -- it’s not just having dreams, you also have to really, truly believe in your ability to make them happen and have the gusto to follow them without restraint.

And so, this strong resolution to have “belief” allows their partners to spontaneously manifest in front of them -- and it’s all but stated that said “dreams” and said partners are equivalent, and even implied that their partners had always existed in their hearts in some form, just not able to truly appear until they fully accepted themselves. Or, in other words, you will only be able to meet your partner when you embrace everything about yourself and what you want to do, regardless of what others think or what society expects of you, and have the will to pursue it.

(By the way, yes. Spontaneously manifest. Even if most of Adventure/02 had been defined by concrete mechanics for the most of it, in the end, this is still a narrative about the human heart before anything else.)

And guess who else learns this lesson by the end of the episode?

When Oikawa, who had been childishly (hmmm) chasing after shallow symbols of his past in order to get it back (hmmmmmm) because he considered himself too much of a “tainted adult” (hmmmm, sounds familiar) back in 02 episode 48, finally comes to realize what his actual mistake was and that he should have been more free about pursuing his dreams instead of accepting Chikara taking them away from him and Hiroki, Oikawa is finally able to reconnect with the partner he’d “lost” all of those years ago (hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm). So, again, you will only be able to reunite with your partner once you accept everything about yourself and what you should do from here on out.

(Hey, fun fact: Pipimon also spontaneously appeared in front of Oikawa the moment he accepted this. Although the exact specifics of the current “adulthood” issue were probably not conceived until Kizuna, “not being able to reach a partner that you once had due to cutting your own dreams off” has precedent!)

Moreover, Menoa’s backstory seems practically engineered to make sure that she never witnessed this nor learned this lesson -- she lost her partner “eight years ago”, in 2002, the exact same year the events of 02 took place. Assuming that she lost said partner in the middle of the year (her flashback seems to take place in spring or so, when university admissions results are issued), this would have prevented her from participating in the “world tour” battles around the world in 02 episodes 40-42 and engaging with Daisuke and friends, and particularly from joining in the final fight with BelialVamdemon and therefore witnessing what happened with the Dark Seed children and Oikawa. Which means that her ability to get this cynical about partnership dissolution being “inevitable” and that there’s no way to regain your hopes and dreams was enabled by the fact that she didn’t get to learn the lesson that the Tokyo Chosen Children did all those years ago...

Let’s look at the four who lost their partners over the course of Kizuna. Where were they at the time they lost their partners?

Menoa: Considering herself spurned by other people who “look at her weird” and desperate to “live on her own two feet” and “be useful to the world”, forced herself into the role of an “adult” by getting herself to skip grades into a university setting she was unprepared for, for the sake of recognition more than anything, and ended up living a very lonely life

Taichi: Isolated himself from others for the sake of living independently and “having his own life to live”, losing focus about anything he wanted to do, and allowing himself to get slowly disconnected from Agumon

Yamato: Developed a sense of detachment from his old hobbies and started living life for a “grace period” due to lack of real focus on what he wanted to do

Sora: Started forcing herself into “obligations” to succeed her mother in flower arrangement and from her Chosen Child duties, to the point she isolated herself from others and started losing control over herself

(Funny thing: a big part of 02′s story was about finding support in others and fostering your relationships, and here we are with four people who are slowly “isolating” themselves from others...)

It’s not about “becoming an adult” and losing your partner. It’s about shoving yourself into the societally-enforced standard of an adult and losing yourself in the process, and therefore losing your ability to see your partner.

And so, by the end of Kizuna, all four of them have lost their partners -- but we also see the characters we know and love starting to follow their way to what we know is the 02 epilogue, through some very unsubtle hint dropping (retroactive hints to the careers we’re already aware of, such as Taichi’s future in diplomacy). Which means that the eventual existence of the 02 epilogue is in itself the answer to the question, because the epilogue is: everyone found what they wanted to do and pursued it, and therefore everyone eventually figured out their personal aspirations and what they wanted to do, and were able to accept and pursue it, which was established earlier as the key to meeting your partner.

By the way! It’s also revealed in 02 episode 50 that the Digital World itself is at least partially formed on “the power to materialize emotions” (both positive and negative), which is the explanation for so many phenomena over both Adventure and 02 being related to the human heart, and presumably is also why Digimon partners can even exist to begin with (they’re literally supposed to be a part of the inner self, so the power of the Digital World is what “brings them out”). All four “disappearances” on record happened with all four of them in the real world, fixated on their obligations to society and attempting to turn themselves into model citizens, but all of the above “meetings” with partners in 02 -- and Menoa making true “contact” with Morphomon (inside Eosmon) for the first time since her disappearance -- also happened in the Digital World, the world of idealistic dreams, personal aspirations, and the materialization of people’s emotions.

[theelliottsmiths]

do you feel like talking about tillchard? 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 not necessarely in a shippy way, just,,, how their relationship functions and why,,,, how they made it work for so long even tho they're so different,,,, i'm trying to write them but i'm in a bit of a block and i feel like you can word things so well and hopefully it will make me able to string words together again 🥺🥺 have a good day in any case 🥺🥺

Okay we have to ease into this my brain needs to warm up to switch tracks so I'm just gonna

Disclaimer: this is mostly conjecture and inference, take it with a full handful of salt.

I feel like whether or not they're all that different is up for debate? Maybe in terms of interests and conflict management skills, but the fundamentals seem pretty similar. I'd argue that's usually the basis for long, intense friendships: your core structures are the same but there's enough difference further out towards the surface that it stays a little spicy.

For a start, they both had rough home lives, though to different extents and in different ways, and I think that's one of those things that really helps people bond deeply (especially as young adults). Finding someone who understands what you've experienced can be difficult, not even accounting for the fact that they didnt have the internet to seek others out and kind of met by chance.

For Richard, who learned from a fairly early age it was him against everything and everyone else, and Till, who at that time had gone through some interpersonal shit with the people he worked with before leaving to move in with his dad and then also the stuff with his dad, it must have been almost... Shocking? to meet someone they could click with and depend on. It doesn't sound like they had that before, but nobody really has asked them. On top of that is all kinds of other trauma and the mental health issues (depression, addiction, anxiety etc) that they can at least to some degree understand in each other. I have no idea how long it took for their friendship to get that intense or any of that more specific stuff, but I honestly don't think that matters: They understand each other at a pretty fundamental level now. Sometimes I think about how Till believes in karma and Richard believes in fate and I just... Yeah.

They have very different feelings and reactions when it comes to disagreements (Till hates conflict and will try to placate people or just do what they want completely, Richard prefers a good cathartic argument) and I can absolutely see them having a hard time with that, especially when they lived together for a while. Whether they have much to fight over besides silly friend/bandmate/brother things remains to be seen.

They're also both very driven and creative almost to a fault? Though Till seems a lot better at switching off and leaving that headspace, whereas Richard doesn't seem like he'd be able to even of he wanted to, which I don't think he does. If one is lost in their work the other will understand. I wonder whether they try to offer support, given how much emotion they both channel into it, or if that's not something either of them would want.

They feed into each others creativity so nicely too. They use that to their complete advantage and honestly just... Can you imagine Rammstein if they didn't go to each other with their ideas first? I think they need each others encouragement before they face the more critical members of the band: the support of a single person can make so much difference.

When the Mutter Situation was in progress Till was the only one in Richards side, though I doubt he inserted himself into many arguments because he's allergic to shouting. I with my whole heart believe that Richard would have tried to leave Rammstein if it wasn't for Till. He'd already thought about it, in particular at times when they were struggling financially. Without that tether would he have gone back willingly? I'm not so sure. He loved them and they were still friends outside of the work, but I don't know that the work with them would feel worth it. Complete conjecture.

Theyll have inevitably drifted in and out of their friendship over the years, which I know a lot of us (especially those of is in our teens and twenties) hate the idea of because we have not experienced 30-year adult friendships and therefore it feels Risky, but actually thats pretty fine. It seems like at some point Richard wasn't happy with the gap and he made efforts to change it, which says so much about him and them. No idea if it worked, but it (along with the stuff with the other guys) shows he's willing to work against his whole lone wolf thing. Again, that man will fight. I'm sure Till was receptive.

I also really do think the other guys being there and them all forming the band was vital. Yes, it did eventually mean their friendship morphed into something more like brothers and colleagues than friends, but again, Let's Go. "Sometimes people need to be reminded". Having those shared friends/bandmates—as well as Khira li, come to think of it— meant that two men who seem fairly prone to cutting themselves off from everyone else didn't have the choice to completely grow apart. It means they had even more shared experiences and had no choice but to be physically together for long stretches of time.

Related to the mutter thing, I do wonder sometimes how Till is when it comes to Richards drug addiction. He's not exactly a fan of the therapy (did it hurt Richard when Till said therapy makes people egotistical, what with him praising it so highly himself?) and still does drugs and binge drinks. How safe is he to be around if Richard is in a bad spot? Presumably Till isn't like that when he's not in work mode, so hanging out one in one or with family/the other boys is probably okay, but in tour? Well, maybe that's why Paul looks after him on stage like that.

Yeah. They're sweet boys and I'm glad they met each other, both because of the band and because they were clearly good for each other. Regardless of any of the negative stuff I just said they love each other. So. Fucking. Much.

Okay so looking back upon this I do not know if I did what you asked. Uh. Shit. Distraction:

[p-and-p-admin]

Interview given to The Severus Snape and Hermione Granger Shipping Fan Group.

https://www.facebook.com/groups/199718373383293/

Hello Lariope and welcome to Behind the Quill, it is a pleasure to talk with you.

Many of our group’s members requested you as an interview subject, but amongst more than a dozen stories in the HP universe you are probably best known for Killing Time, Second Life, and Advanced Contemporary Potion Making.

Okay, let’s jump right in. What's the story behind your pen name?  

So, there's a really common plant in my area called Monkey Grass. Most people use it as landscaping filler. I thought it was pretty and asked someone who had some what it was called. She told me that it's technical name is Liriope, which I heard as Lariope. This was around the time that book 6 was released, and it struck me as a very witchy name, particularly as JKR likes flower names. Which Harry Potter character do you identify with the most? Wow. Probably Neville. I'm certainly not as brainy or as confident as Hermione, not as out-there as Luna, not as athletic as Ginny. I'm less angsty than Harry and less apt to charge off in my own direction. And I am certainly not as thoughtless as Ron, not as strict as McGonagall, not as dark as Snape. And if you've read Second Life, you know my feelings about Dumbledore! But I was someone who took some time to come into my own. Often bumbling or nervous, but when my back is to the wall, brave and honorable. So I'm going with Neville. Do you have a favourite genre to read? (not in fic, just in general) 

I love fiction, but honestly, other than Harry Potter, I don't read fantasy! I tend to like "domestic" fiction, as in Anne Tyler, and literary fiction. I also really love Stephen King, oddly enough. Do you have a favourite "classic" novel? 

By classic do you mean like, the literary canon, or just not fanfiction? My top five favorite novels are, in no particular order, The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger, It by Stephen King, The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon, The Temple of Gold by William Goldman, and The Secret History by Donna Tartt. I'm not big into the classics, which is weird for an English major to say. At what age did you start writing? 

I've been writing all my life. The first time I saw Stand by Me at 11 years old, I rewrote it with a new ending because I could not bear the death of Chris Chambers. I think I've always been interested in working with other people's texts. How did you get into writing fanfiction? 

I loved Harry Potter so intensely. I came to it as an adult at a particularly lonely time in my life. When book 6 was released I read it all in one gulp, and then felt kind of despondent when it was over. I thought of the good old rule of the internet, that if it exists, there is porn of it, so I went looking for what I called "Potterotica," figuring that it would give me an opportunity to read more about the characters I loved. I didn't yet have a concept of fanfiction, let alone fanfiction that wasn't erotica! As I read, I had the persistent feeling that I hadn't yet found exactly the story I was looking for. I kept feeling that I would do this or that differently. Then after the release of book 7, I was tormented by the fate of Snape. I really felt I needed to save him. That I couldn't relax until he'd had some love in his life before his death. I didn't have the sense yet that I could change his fate, only that I needed him to have happiness and love before he died.  I have a Master's Degree in fiction writing, so I decided to just give it a try. My first story was terrible!!! It was called If Memory Serves and was archived only on the Restricted Section. But it definitely forced me to reawaken some skills, and whetted my appetite. What's the best theme you've ever come across in a fic? Is it a theme represented in your own works? 

Hm. I'm not sure how to answer this question. I know that one of the things that I respond most strongly to in fic is a feeling of inevitability--that regardless of how or when, these characters had unfinished business with each other. I hate to use the word destined... but that feeling that there were many points in canon where something minor could have changed which would have changed everything and brought two characters together--and that that could have happened at any point, in any number of ways. I like very much when canon is reimagined or reinterpreted to make that relationship deeper--like reimagining the scene where Snape insults Hermione's teeth to have a totally different meaning in the context of their relationship. I think I am remembering Somigliana's The Traveller being particularly gratifying in that way. Obviously I play with canon a lot in my own work. I like for fanfiction to feel "real" as in, possible in a canonical context. What fandoms are you involved in other than Harry Potter? 

Almost none! I've been fannish all my life, but Harry Potter was the first experience I ever had of "fandoms," that is to say, community built around a narrative. I usually just freaked out over things in private. After HP, I tried very hard to get into the Sherlock fandom, because I had a dear friend from the SS/HG community who was into it, but in the end, I could just never become invested in quite the way I had with Harry Potter. Subsequently, I had children, so I mostly support their fannishness now. If you could make one change to canon, what would it be? Do you have a favourite piece of fanon? 

I wish Snape could live. I really do. He had a lot left to learn and a lot left to give to the world beyond the sacrifice of his own life to the cause. There are certain things I have ultimately accepted as head canon, as far as pieces of fanon are concerned. Honestly, they are so ingrained that I'm having trouble thinking of any! Sometimes when I watch the movies with my kids, I think, but wait, what about?... oh yeah, I forgot that wasn't canon. Do you listen to music when you write or do you prefer quiet? 

I need dead silence to compose, because I hear the words in my head as I write and I can't be distracted from them. But I often pick pieces of music that I listen to obsessively in my downtime when I'm writing a story, that I think of as sort of like theme songs. Falling Slowly by Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova was one for Second Life. Table for Glasses by Jimmy Eat World still calls up Dark Santiago for me. What are your favourite fanfictions of all time? 

Oooh. Ok. So I read a lot of Drarry, and I pretty much love everything that Sara's Girl has ever written. Somigliana's work--the Traveller was amazing. All the Best and Brightest Creatures by Wordstrings (Sherlock). I also really loved greywash's Sherlock fic. There was an SSHG that has been long since removed that was called Dear January--I still think of it.  I loved all the epics of my particular time in the SSHG fandom. Mia Madwyn, Subversa, Loten. Are you a plotter or a pantser? How does that affect your writing process? 

Definitely a plotter. I kept pages and pages of working notes and planning points as I was writing Second Life. I always began a chapter with a working document of where I thought the chapter was going, as well as a reread of that portion of canon.  Points of discovery along the way still happened all the time--I'd be in the midst of something I had planned when all of a sudden I'd see some point of connection I hadn't even thought of, and something would open up bigger than I had thought it would be. I remember in particular the end of the Bathilda Bagshot chapter of Second Life, when Snape is running toward James and Lily's house and feeling like time is doubling back on itself--I didn't see that parallel until I was in it.  I think you always have to have room to surprise yourself, even in the thick of your planning. That sense of discovery affects the reader's journey through your work. What is your writing genre of choice? 

Haha, fanfiction is my writing genre of choice. No, I wrote short stories when I was pursuing my degree in fiction, which is kind of hilarious now, as I became sort of known for my long-windedness. Why say 100 words when 10,000 would do? I grew to love the novel during my time in fanfiction. It would be hard to imagine turning back to a shorter form now. But who knows. I always tell myself that once the children are grown I will get back to writing. I was beginning a sort of cross between fantasy and domestic fiction when I had children and I still think the idea has legs. Which of your stories are you most proud of? Why? 

Oh, different ones for different reasons. I think Dark Santiago is the most structurally tight and sound thing I've ever done. Second Life is like a miracle that it even happened, that I was able to control such a behemoth and bring it home. I was terrified the whole way. And weirdly, there's a drabble series that is called The Sins of Severus Snape that I am still really proud of. I think of those like linked poems. A real exercise in being concise for someone who likes to sprawl all over the page. Did it unfold as you imagined it or did you find the unexpected cropped up as you wrote? What did you learn from writing it?  

I think I've pretty much covered those questions in all my ramblings. I knew the general structure, I was happily surprised along the way, and I learned to write novels from writing fanfiction, Second Life in particular. How personal is the story to you, and do you think that made it harder or easier to write? 

There's not a lot of personal parts of the story to me in Second Life. I mean, every character is drawn from me, in a way, just because they come into being informed with my way of looking at and understanding the world and other people. But there isn't a lot in there that echoes my experience. Advanced Contemporary Potion Making was personal, and I think you can feel that in the story. It takes the biggest step away from canon. It wasn't hard to write, but it was hard to live. And now, as I look back, I have a different perspective on my life and on the story itself than I did at the time that I wrote it. What books or authors have influenced you? How do you think that shows in your writing? 

Oh man, Stephen King is all over my writing. I don't think I've ever written a sex scene that didn't have a grain of that scene in the sewers of It inside it. Not because of the child thing--I know that skeeves people out about that scene--but because in it, Beverly discovers the power of sex--sex as a force, a life-giving force, something with teeth. I think that idea shows up a lot in Second Life. I like fiction in which you are very much inside the character's heads, and I think that's apparent in my writing. I think I got that initially from Stephen King, who leaps around inside his different character's heads sometimes in the same paragraph! I also think the theme of unending loyalty, the power of friendship, the triumph of good over evil--those are very Kingian themes that I recognized in Potter and then carried into my own writing. Do people in your everyday life know you write fanfiction? 

Yes. That wasn't always the case. During the time that I was active in the fandom, I was a young elementary school teacher, and I dreaded anyone finding out that I wrote sex scenes with children's book characters. I was very private about my fanfic then, and even a few of my closest real life people did not know. My parents still do not know. My children are teenagers now and into fanfiction in their own right; they know I wrote it, but they don't know my ship or my pen name. My husband has read most of Second Life. I recently started a new job, and during one of those "get to know you" games, I was asked to share something that other people wouldn't guess about me. I said that I had once been a fanfiction writer. How true for you is the notion of "writing for yourself"? 

Mmm. I wrote the stories I wanted to read. Do you know what I mean? I wrote things because that's how I wanted to see them, how I wished they were, and I wrote to my own preferences. But writing in real time, for people who were actually reading and responding--that was crucial to the process. My biggest fear during the writing of Second Life was that I wouldn't finish it, or that I would lose control of it and it would become crap. "Breaking the story," I used to say, and I was terrified of breaking the story. But the fact that there were people experiencing it with me and waiting for it, reacting to it, and giving insightful feedback--that helped keep me very focused and motivated. I never wrote something because I thought it would be appealing to others, but I was so gratified that what I wrote did appeal to others. How important is it for you to interact with your audience? How do you engage with them? Just at the point of publishing? Through social media? 

I had a LiveJournal and although I was not a frequent poster, I read my friends list every day during that time. I read what everyone else was reading and talked about the stories and themes that everyone else was talking about. I made a number very close friends during that time--other authors, people who were reading my stories and commenting. We talked on the phone frequently, and I had a team of beta readers. I went to conventions. I participated in the ss/hg exchange. A lot of those people were my audience, were reading my stories. And many of them became my good friends. I had a policy to answer all reviews when I was writing Second Life, and I did that until I was unable to do it anymore. When I had multiple stories it got much harder. That community changed a lot toward the end of my time in it. People were leaving LiveJournal, and Tumblr was on the rise, which felt like a much bigger pond. AO3 was replacing the smaller archives on which I had really grown as a writer. And once the movies were over and there was no more "fresh canon," people started to drift away. I do think that I might have lasted longer if that tight knit community had stayed in place. It played a big role in my commitment to my work and continued enthusiasm. As a side note, one of the friends I made in the SS/HG community is still my best friend. She is the "aunt" to my children, and we still talk on the phone weekly and visit at least yearly. What is the best advice you've received about writing? 

If you want to write, then write. Make a routine. Write a certain number of words a day. Read them out loud to yourself. You'll hear your own bad habits and improve them.

What do you do when you hit writer's block? 

If I'm already in a project, I will force myself to write a certain number of words per day. I will hold a scene that I'm longing to write out in front of myself like a carrot. Like, if you write this transition part that feels yucky and like you are stuck in it, then you can write the big reunion scene that you know is coming. If I'm not in a project... well, then I don't get through it. I just don't start a new project.  If I need to write a story, as I did during graduate school or during the ss/hg exchange--I would do this thing one of my professors suggested--pick three headlines, words or ideas that have interested you over time and force them into the same story. Dark Santiago was that way. I had the prompt of fortune telling. I added an idea about the way magic works for muggleborns and the ocean town where I was living. Voila: Dark Santiago.   Has anything in real life trickled down into your writing? 

I'm sure it has in ways I can't even see. I remember once talking to a friend on the phone about Second Life as I was writing it, and she pointed out that the fact that I'm a Quaker was informing the story--like my own perspective on war and the horrors of violence were bleeding into the the kind of philosophy of Second Life. Do you have any stories in the works? Can you give us a teaser? 

I don't. I wish I did! I often miss my time in fandom, the spirit of creativity and community, all those ideas just bubbling out in every direction. Any words of encouragement to other writers? 

I don't believe that the end goal of fanfiction is to become a published writer, just as I don't think every guitarist has to have the goal of selling out a stadium, or every golfer has to want to compete in the Masters. I think you can love a thing without making it your livelihood. You become a "real" author the minute someone else reads a story that you wrote. Many of you reading this right now are people who made me an author. It is, as Stephen King once wrote, a kind of telepathy. I thought of something once, in 2008, in the southeast of the US, and you can read it right now wherever you are, and experience the thoughts and feelings I was dreaming up then. It's a wonderful gift, writing. And working among people who are dedicated to improving their craft and talking about stories and ideas--that is just the very best ground for making something that makes YOU proud. Thanks so much for giving us your time.  

Thank you! I am really honored to be asked

[erinelizabethh]

Caught Your Eye | Leon x Reader (7/?)

Summary: Your little sister is the newest, most promised challenger to beat the region’s Champion. Leon is said Champion. You just have a Pikachu.

A series of drabbles following yours and Leon’s friends-to-lovers slow burn… years in the making.

1 2 3 4 5 6

Chapter Seven: Must Be Fate

Chapter Summary: Perhaps fate is something to believe in.

Fate is a concept, an idea to believe in rather than accept as fact. To believe in whatever was to come meant a sense of control in one’s life, and God forbid if this world wasn’t so unpredictable. Perhaps the word is meant to comfort you, to justify the shudder in your bones at the fast-approaching return to Postwick. In fact, Sonia can go on about how she dawdles in it all, only entertaining destiny when she sees fit which is… exactly the topic of conversation upon your first step in Wedgehurst territory. With your Rotom phone tucked in between your shoulder and your ear, heat traveling to a phone increasing in stupidity the more you couldn’t figure how to navigate it, you raise a shoulder to drag your duffle bag toward the column of your neck while kneeling to bring your able Pikachu into your arms. “She must be right excited to see Leon in the flesh again, huh?” Sonia inquires in fact, expecting proof of delight in return.

The girl famous for her peach strands of hair and her brilliant knowledge of the region remains your friend through passing texts and selfies with your now ex-best friend, and his now rival Raihan. Unlike everyone else, she’s that rock that is dauntless of abilities that near rival a ghost type, choosing to spend moments of her day checking in with a, “What’s goin’, love?” despite your schedule too full to respond to left messages. Sometimes if the nostalgia is too much to bear, she recalls of outings the four of you had however rare, taking quick detours on routes home because you finally caved and relished in the way the sun’s rays traveled in the waves of the lake beside her home. Sometimes she’ll sign off her messages with a plead for you to return through the excuse that Leon and Raihan are down to one bookworm to tease; she misses a friend, a fellow girl, someone whose contact means more to her and less to you as the years are counted and lives are left behind.

No one’s fault but yours, you suppose, it was difficult to detach from the village girl in you to make residence in the city. Contacts of old classmates nonetheless are found upon the habitual scrolling through lists of numbers foreign, all besides your mother, Lydia, and Sonia having to deal with a fleeting existence never picking up. If only any of those people fortunate enough to hold a spot in your memory even bothered to call, but again, no one’s fault but yours. With a few updates every day from Mum about the abundance of Butterfree’s among her plants as if you care and a few more from Lydia mentioning a girl she’s crushing on in University as if you have any right giving her advice, your phone is dry with your recent calls your mentor and boss as the only source.

At this point, you’re not exactly positive why you bought this device.

Your Pikachu nuzzles her rosy cheeks into your forearm, appreciative of that buzz she experiences when her owner gives her attention. “He texted me back a, ‘yep’ when I told ‘im, I mean Sonia… he’s definitely a bit cross with me— oh, but the hat—“

You step outside Wedgehurst Station to find a crowd of people in your vision, and the very man invading your thoughts as the object of their affection. They ogle over the cape that dresses him so proper, aware of how contagious his smile can be, salivating at the amount of patience required to fully tame his winning Charizard. There are sparkles in the eyes of each aspiring trainer and parent searching for a distraction, asking him of favors to amuse them just a little longer. You’re somebody that doesn’t deserve paying mind to, except Leon has to perk up at your voice and turn to meet your entrance home, successfully diverting the attention from him and his most trusted Pokémon to someone who wanted none of that. The inhabitants of Wedgehurst turn heads at Leon’s change of behavior and the source, and you lower your phone from your ear as your gaze shuffles at every direction but the one where he is in your direct line of vision.

�� And there it is, in your periphery. Your gift to him.

No one walked the world without finding his name on a billboard, his face plastered in hyperbolic documentaries of how the boy from nothing rose to the top and became the Champion of Galar. The world knew he was loved, yes, that he packed up his wardrobe and set out at the age of sixteen, yes, but did they know how good he was at remembering birthdays? His mother would tease him in passing by posting a picture of him when he was a teenager and the population would go mad and exclaim about his braces but were they there during his woes of them being too tight, too fragile? Would anyone have cared if he wasn’t a winner, if he wasn’t always a winner? So many questions and yet, you would think being twenty-three, all the time in the world would be offered to you to answer them.

You followed Leon’s journey to twenty-four through the eyes and ears of others, lips flat as you witnessed him having the time of his life. Lydia, with the occasional snapshot of his rare visit to his home, would encourage a grin from the adult when he found no reason to frown. You would scroll down Hop’s feed, his stan feed if you will, claiming that one day he would be Champion just like his brother, analyzing the stream of Leon’s many battles and victories. Then, if you were courageous enough, the next tab would be reserved for his mother’s profile—still kicking, still tagging your mother in articles about gardening. The occasional upload of Leon’s pose would show up if you scrolled further, with Mum sparing time to comment about how his signature stance kind of looks like a Charizard which was kind of the point, followed by the demand for him and you to meet up in Motostoke. Of course, your name in bold was to be your limit, and you proceeded to exit the application to bang your forehead against your phone two, three times.

His appearance is just as in the pictures, except you’re now able to put a voice and a soul into them. The boy, now a man, can’t seem to avert his gaze from what he deems is the more pressing matter at hand, his cheeks losing its color the more he eyes the color that fuses within yours. His hair reaches yours in length, undoubtedly as soft as silk, and perhaps one day there would come a time where he would allow you to braid it in a design that accentuates more of his silent gratitude. You squint to find the regret in his eyes, maybe contempt, only finding dandelions that sway in the lovely, constant breeze. There is no difference to be found in him so far but the growth on his chin and the tufts of hair that far outmatch yours. Rather than spare his many glances at you, gaze aligning so perfectly with the other, he now follows you to a height stunted just because your body isn’t built to be tall. However, although the number of contrasts is small, they are too significant to ignore, and you can’t help but notice that there can be no return to a boy strife with the burden of crooked teeth and expectations. Leon, although no longer a best friend, remains but a spirit meant to haunt you because no one can seem to let him go. You, unfortunately, are no different.

You, however, appear to have been obscured from both families’ requests for selfies or photos of your new flat, only a comment of how you’re welcomed at your new position, partaking in research that no one cared to find out about, so it’s quite a shock to him to find you seven years later under a new light. Quite some time has passed since yet the years have been kind to you, he’s sure. You deserve it, of course, but maybe you don’t; some part of him has to remind him of what you did to him. Regardless, there exists weights beneath your eyes, no doubt an accumulation of years of studies, yet you compensate for it with lips soft and glossy. The second that transpires before you shield your face from the sun, your irises shimmer underneath it’s rays and he’s thrown back to when the two of you were teenagers and the sun set over the horizon at just the right time when you were just in the right spot, and he’s as mesmerized then as he is now.

Boy, does he hate it.

There is something you haven’t seen from him since you departed: a frown upon his lips that deters those who find solace in his abiding smile. Eyebrows narrowed if only for a moment, the relief of those that know a caricature of him returns when he puffs out his chest, permitting you from defacing his image by forcing out a, “Welcome home,” despite, you know, not coming back for seven years. The smile that reaches the surface is unsettling to you, as behind it there are cracks in which you are the cause, imprints of memories better off forgotten because you made them undesirable. You return the favor in contrast to Pikachu squirming in your grasp, settling with the familiarity of the boy before her. His Charizard simply huffs out his dismay, gaze observing the tremble that crawls up your skin and threatens to make an already horrid situation much worse. He flexes his growth from the cheeky yet promising Charmander to the inviolable Charizard the world knows, all because you can’t seem to stop breaking his owner’s heart. No difference found, as perhaps his form of discipline during your many study dates alone with him really was punishing you for the inevitable.

Lydia and Hop are in the back of this mess, balanced on top of their toes to witness the commotion over the shoulders of passersby, murmuring under their breaths of the lack of timing that warrants such a situation. The two grown, yet not grown enough, graduates jostle shoulders to get through to the both of you, and it is then that you notice of the increasing similarity in behavior and appearance between Leon and his sibling. Of course, there’s no time to worry about it lost, as Lydia grasps your free arm and grants you a favor after years of you slacking as her sister and her confidant. When she drags you from the fray, calling for Leon over his shoulder of her intended whereabouts, you’re not at all occupied with the intimidation of unwanted attention and off handed clicks of the tongue.

Out of all the caps to wear…

Out of all the trinkets and parting gifts that would remind you of home…

You wear mine.

[dlamp-dictator]

A Bittersweet Prequel (Akame ga Kill Zero)

Akame ga Kill! Zero is the prequel to Akame ga Kill!, a shounen manga based around a corrupt medieval empire and the group of revolutionary assassins attempting to take the kingdom down from the inside known as Night Raid. This specific spinoff manga focuses on the female lead Akame and her past as an assassin for the Empire. You get to see her interact with her old team, the Elite 7, her earlier missions and life as an Empire Assassin, and how she ended up getting her iconic Murasame blade before betraying the Empire. Overall, I liked this manga a lot, and unlike most things I like I have very few asterisks to put in front of that statement. This is an honest-to-God good manga from start to finish. 

But I still have a few asterisks to lay out. Nothing that usually scares people away from things I like. This isn’t Senran Kagura, Rumble Rose, Wanna be the Strongest in the World, or... honestly, half the manga in my collection. No, just a few gripes and annoyances you might have when reading the manga I think knowing in advance would ease the pain a little. 

Ultimately, this manga has three big issues for me. 

Oh, and I’m using a “read more” for once to see how that goes.

Anyway, like I said, three main issues:

It’s a Seinen

This isn’t the criticism you might be thinking. My issue with this manga is that it’s pushing for a Seinen rating rather than the fact that it simply is one. The original Akame ga Kill was a darker shounen aimed at an older teenage crowd. It had its fair share of dark moments, gore, and violence, and while a lot of it felt like it was done for edge or shock value after about volume 9 or 10, it wasn’t going too far with it in terms of content, at least for my taste. This was a manga about killers, murderers, and assassins at the end of the day, so killings, murders, and assassinations happened. A lot.

But Zero… went further.

Let me put it this way, if I had to give the original Akame ga Kill manga a rating I’d say it’d be rated T, maybe even a 16+ as it had some rather gruesome depictions of blood, gore, general violence, and some light sexual themes. Zero has all of that plus a lot more T&A, and namely uncensored T&A. 

Now I’m no prude, seeing anime titties isn’t exactly going to make me go up in arms about the manga. However, this has more to do with demographics and author intent. Like I said, the original Akame ga Kill had a lot of dark moments, but most sexual aspects of it was typical shounen wackiness. Sneaking into the girl’s bath, boob gags, the occasion girl in skimpy clothing, things like that. Zero has all that more, and in much darker showing. At least three characters nearly getting sexually assault, there are several sex scenes both implied and nearly shown, a lot of naked girls walking about at points, and general Seinen wackiness happening. 

I wouldn’t say these are bad things, but... they make me raise my eyebrows somewhat. Again, the original had its dark moments, and losing your chastity unwilling was definitely one of them. Hell, one mission of Tatsumi’s was in a brothel. However… that was originally a manga aimed at an older teenage crowd, around 15-18 if I had to take a guess, and the prequel, which was ran alongside the original for a time, was a Seinen aimed at a young adult crowd of 18-20+. This is a somewhat concerning jump in ratings and target audience. I understand the original demographic that’d be curious would have aged to this point, but... it feels like more of a forced decision to add it rather than trying to keep up with the demographic of longtime fans. Again, nothing bad, but curious. 

I’ll also add that there’s a different artist tackling this spinoff, a Kei Toru instead of the original’s Tetsuya Tashiro, so this might be a matter of artist preference than the writer’s intent. Still, you take out all the T&A and you’d get a decent manga all the same, so I can’t help but feel the Seinen elements were tacked on to fanservice rather than to show darker elements. It’s not Tsugumomo levels of forced Seinen elements, thank Christ, but it feels tacked on regardless.

But anyway, the second major issue.

The Shingu

The Shingu are basically Teigu that exist to give Akame and the Elite 7 cool weapons without completely retconning the world-building of the original Akame ga Kill. Lore-wise the Shingu are basically knockoff Teigu, an attempt to recreate the great weapons of old but were ultimately inferior compared to the the genuine products. They were still handy and powerful all the same, and are used by trusted and capable fighters within the Empire all the same. However, their existence showed the flaws in trying to do specific world-building, at least if you’re familiar with writing. 

To go a little off-topic for a bit, something I often say on my RP blog and when discussing general writing is to never get too specific with your world-building. The more you add, the more you have to adhere to as you write, lest you’re called out on it when retcons happen. And when Akame ga Kill already stated only 48 Teigu exist, but only half of them are even around it destroys any potential to have addition cool weapons in a sequel or prequel without some maneuvering around the lore. It can be done, but it does more to hamstring you in the end, and savvier audience members will notice it.

The Shingu do this to a certain degree. They don’t break the world-building, as the backstory of the Teigu are still intact, but for a savvier reader its pretty clear the Shingu were... unintended. By the logic of Zero, there should be several soldiers, officers, and generals with the weaker,but more numerous Shingu to compensate for the lack of Teigu and still having an edge in battle during the coming revolution. The Shingu honestly are just slightly weaker than a Teigu according to the lore, so it’s no big comparison really unless we’re talking Esdeath-levels of powerful. To shoehorn them in just to give Akame and her friends interesting weapons just... feels annoying to me.

But again, that’s ultimately a small nitpick. They don’t break anything, just lead to a lot of unintended consequences if you think on it too hard like I do.

But onto my last big issue, and it’s not really an issue, but an inevitability that caused the first too issues, which is...

This is a Prequel

I don’t know if there’s an actual term for this, so I’m going to call this the Fate/Zero Effect, in which the prequel of a series is far more superior to the original in terms of writing and is only neutered by the on-rails conclusion that leads to the beginning of the original series. I only call this an issue because there’s so much I like about this manga that the original kind of... feels weaker by comparison. But to talk about how that is I’ll have to talk about all the good things about this manga first. To start with:

Akame’s Characterization was Great

Akame was a very believable character in this series, someone working for her father-figure teacher as an assassin that honestly believes she’s improving her messed up country from within instead of advancing the agendas of the wealthy and powerful. However, she’s sharp enough to realize that people aren’t getting better no matter how many revolutionaries her team kills. She questions it, and her father’s dodgy, almost threatening nature about her doubts only pushes her further to leaving. Her slowly questioning the horrors and cruelty of the world and being the only one in her team to really question her father’s goal is a nice touch. 

Another nice touch is that you really do buy that she’s the weakest of the Elite 7. She’s strong, of course, but compared to the rest of her team she’s lacking in some department. She doesn’t have the commanding presence of Najasho, the strategic mind of Green, the absurd strength of Guy, the Levelheadedness and charisma of Cornelia, the instincts and quick-thinking of Pony, or the loyalty and cleverness of Tsukushi. She’s just… Akame, the assassin that’s a decent swordsman and likes meat.

I’ll admit the only thing that felt forced was Merraid pushing her further to see the Empire’s cruelty while captured by her, as Akame was already questioning it to begin with, but that’s just a minor nitpick. All in all, I did enjoy seeing this form of Akame, especially seeing her relationship with Kurome while it was still on good terms. Seeing the sisters actually bond and care for each other really helped show how much Akame cares for her, and how she thought killing her was the best choice in the end if Kurome was too stubborn or brainwashed to leave the Empire. And that’s just the main character, I have to give my respects to the side cast as well. That being said...

The Side Cast

The Elite Seven was a nice addition. They’re about as kooky as Night Raid but keeping them all around the same age was probably for the best. Not to say Night Raid was bad, but having everyone being teenagers following one main adult boss just creates better cohesion. Night Raid was mostly teens too, but the Elite 7 just feel a lot more like friends. I can’t really describe it. Maybe because they were already a unit by the time the series started, maybe because the writer got a lot better at writing banter, I really couldn’t say. They’re all likeable in their own way, and all great fighters when the chips are down. Next to Akame, Pony was my favorite of the group. Both design and personality wise they’re all unique. The writer has a good track record of writing good banter and synergy with a ragtag group. Between Night Raid, the Jaegers, the Elite Seven, and even Hinowa’s regiment in Hinowa ga Crush, they’re very good at making likable characters… right before killing them off. 

And that’s the issue with this being a prequel, we know most of the Elite Seven were slated to die. With the two exceptions of Pony and Najasho, which was an honest surprise for me, I think it was fair to say most everyone in the cast were slated for the chopping block due to the nature of the prequel to Akame ga Kill. They can only be characterized so much before the inevitable happens. Fate/Zero had this effect too, as we knew Kotomine and Kiritsugu would at least survive the war, but everyone else was... well, fodder, no matter how charismatic they were. I know this is done to create tension and a bit of bittersweet longing for the what-if, but... I don’t know, I can’t help but be a little annoyed by it.

There’s on more thing I want to talk about before ending this essay, so I’ll talk about...

Art and Story

Now, Fate/Zero had a new writer do its story and a new studio do the animation, but in Akame ga Kill Zero’s case we’ve got the same writer and a different artist. As far as the writing goes it’s a lot better in Zero. It’s still got a tinge of silliness mixed in with the serious, but it’s a lot better paced in more delivery and frequency. Merraid being a useless lesbian at times didn’t completely take over her character or detract from it. The general silly moments with the Elite Seven were almost always during a slow period that could afford a gag here or there to punch out the slow pace. Everything felt a lot more cohesive… which makes the chronological series feel a little weak by comparison. Again, much like Fate/Zero, going back and comparing the original Fate/Stay Night anime to the more mature Fate/Zero really feels like night and day in terms of the writing. I’m actually rewatching the original Stay Night this month and next and while I’ll give a full piece on my opinion next month I’ll at least say while it holds up surprisingly well for a mid-2000s anime, it definitely is dated in a lot of ways. 

In the same way, the original Akame ga Kill feels a bit dated as well, a lot the jokes feel more distracting than funny, a lot of the characters feel a little less realized and the plot itself feels a lot more rushed, especially at the climax. The powerscaling is also an issue, but that’s a whole other Rambling. Zero on the other, being a prequel, can only go so far in terms of plot escalation and powerscaling. With a permanent lock on those two things you can afford to tell a much smaller scale story without the worry of having to increase the action to a large degree because you, by design, can’t extend the powerscaling past around the beginning of the first story. Granted there are exceptions. To go back to Fate, Stay Night was a war fought by a majority of high school students and people not too attune to magic with only 3-ish people of actual competence out of the case of 10+, but Akame ga Kill Zero, realistically, can’t do anything bigger than using Muramase in a flashy way, making a lot of the fights more tactical. My favorite part of this series was that Akame had Kiriichimonji, a Shingu whose wounds would never heal. This made Akame’s fights a lot more tactically, strategically wounding enemies to whittle them down or give Akame an opening in the future rather than just a pure one-cut kill.

Art-wise… I’m not much for art critique, but I did prefer the original artist to the one for Akame ga Kill Zero. I couldn’t explain why, but something about the lines just feels… too light. Not bad, but I myself have a preference for dark, thick, and even sketchy lines, and something about this new artist feels a little too clean at times for something as potential dark as Akame ga Kill. Again, not bad, but not my preference either. I do like a lot of the designs like Poney and Merraid, but that’s really it.

Conclusion

Overall, my nitpicks aside, I enjoyed reading this manga a lot. I think I’ll pick it up again next time in the mood for a decent action manga. I’m slowly catching up to Hinowa ga Crush and I’ve got mostly positive feelings about it, so I know the writer still has some gas in the tank in terms of their writer juices and I can’t wait to see more of the world he’s creating.

[hunterguyveriv]

An Old Voltron Fan’s rant

A Voltron-Old Timer’s unapologetic rant on certain factions of fans:

So it has been a week since Season-7 dropped and as a fan of the original Voltron since that fateful day in September, I have grown to love anything Voltron that is made and grow sad to see it’s inevitable end looming on the horizon. That being said some factions new fandom members have gotten really tiresome and annoying to the point that they need to grow up. Somethings you all may not agree with, but this is my view of the fandom.

I normally don't do anything like this but seeing nasty posts, posted to voice actors *referencing a particular Klance fan*, and to @bext-k and anyone else associated with Voltron: Legendary Defender who may be on Tumblr, I want to apologize for that part of the fanbase, you should not be hassled or have to write a letter apologizing for “apparent queerbaiting.” but I have to speak my mind, on the whole, the issue. As an old-time Voltron Fan, that person and his friends/supporters DO NOT speak for me! And if you are one of those who does happen to be in the LGBT Community and still loved everything about the season or disliked it but didn’t go to such extremes like some have, then this need not apply to and for that, sorry you have to see such ugliness from this post.

Over the seasons I have heard of the nastiness fans have had about certain things “needing to appear in “Voltron: Legendary Defender,” but then I saw it after Season first hand from a fan who proudly posted his nasty posts to a Voice Actress of the show. To that person and people like him, who the hell do you think you are? I understand that you are “UPSET” about many things reading through your childish “look at me” posts.

First let us take a look at the definition of “Queerbaiting:”

Queerbaiting, according to a definition I found is: “the practice to hint at, but then to not actually depict, a same-sex romantic relationship between characters in a work of fiction, mainly in film or television. The potential romance may be ignored, explicitly rejected or made fun of.”

Besides Shiro's flashbacks where else are these hints in the series? Can you list each and every instance which hinted to 2 male characters or 2 female characters hooking up? So a male character hugs a male character repeatedly so what? So male characters smile at one another, or hug, or cradle an injured person in their arms. We as humans do that in general because we are an affectionate race. That has nothing to do with "queerbaiting." Some may source “well Keith and Lance are always paired together on missions.” Yes, it’s to get them to quit getting at each other’s throats an congeal as team members both in and out of combat. Those are instances and occurrences that does not certain characters are or will be gay.

So you didn't get what you and so many others wanted, that doesn't mean you have to be a little child about it and be nasty about it! I wanted Keith to be Native American, even civilly requested it, because my people need more representation in the media, but you know what? It would be nice, even though it doesn't seem like it will happen, I still enjoy the series. Which by the way, speaking representation, did the LGBT community request or demand representation for the Native American community? How about the mentally handicapped, Jewish, Muslim, or countless others? When is too much representation too much that it damages the show?!

If you want all the representation or headcanons you want in the world start writing your own fan fiction and post it on websites like Archive of Our Own, Fanfiction.net, or even DeviantArt. Just don't act like a pathetic little child and throw a hissy fit because you didn't get what you want. It’s called life, you don't get what you always want.

I admit I was a bit perturbed that they, the showrunners, first revealed that they made Shiro gay. Mainly because it seemed like the LGBT representation was being forced down everyone's throats just to appease those who “ship” him with male characters. But you know what I for one am glad we got what we got from Shiro & Adam. And I know some of you are going to and have said before “But we deserved to see Shiro and Adam reunite!” NO WE DON’T!

1, Shiro and Adam were broken up, because Shiro went on a mission that he needed to prove to himself that he can do. Adam even said so himself!

2, Adam dying is something that happens in war, especially war where a less prepared race goes up against a more advanced civilization. And if you take issue because him dying because he was involved with a primary character then you might as well stop watching a bunch of series, because it happens ALL THE TIME!

3. It showed that Shiro even though they were broken up was regretful and still had to focus on liberating Earth from the Galra. He had no true time to mourn yes, but in times of War, you generally don't have that luxury to do so. You have to continue the fight until it is over.

4. As some have even suggested, his death helped focus Shiro during a time he himself wasn't sure about himself.

Another thing, yes representation of Native Americans would be nice, but what would it have to do with the story before and after the reveal of a Native American character? NOTHING! What does Shiro/Adam or even Zethrid/Ezor have to do with the story from the 6 previous seasons and anything made after Season 7? NOTHING! What would having a Muslim, Jewish, Hindu, mentally handicapped character have to do with the story before and after the reveal? Once again NOTHING!

The whole drive of the show is “War is Hell.” Hell on those oppressed, hell on those fighting it, and hell for those left behind, and hell for those who survive. Sure some budding romances will result from it which I am about to go into, but this, in a cartoon about a giant robot beating the shit out of monsters, other robots, and evil alien ships, should be the ONLY representation that should be focused on. Not ones to make you feel all hunky dory on the inside or accepted. The showrunners know what they are doing, but if you think you can do better then please, by all means, purchase the rights to Voltron and make your own version. War is not a sugar coated thing where everyone lives happily ever after if you want to continue believing that then go back to watching your anime shows made for kids like Pokemon, Dragon Ball/Z/Super and leave the more thoughtful series to the adults. ANd if there are some fellow old timers here with me, they are more than likely to agree.

And if you think I am being homophobic I’m not. I have been questioned my own sexuality since 1992 but had to keep under-wraps because of family or where I live. I am happy they - the LGBT community, got their representation for what it was, but I am just fed up with the whole issue being forced down our throats.

Now onto the couples thing… pairings/couples/ships WHATEVER!

Now this whole “ship/shipping” thing... it's nice/new/bizarre/and downright stupid to me. Back in my time, we didn't call potential couples “ships” or went batshit crazy over something that looked like a character was crushing on another when there is nothing there. The fan fiction and fan art is spectacular and in most cases breathtaking, but in recent seasons it has really gotten out of hand with Voltron. The whole Sheith issue, only “shipping Keith with other male characters, praising pairings while condemning others.

Speaking of which, why is it okay to “ship” Lotor and Allura together even though he used her, but it's not okay to ship Keith and Acxa together or Keith and Romelle together? And don’t you dare say its because “Keith is clearly gay/bi” or that “shipping him with anyone else besides Character X is toxic” excuse - because those excuses have gotten stupid, old, and annoying. But I’ll wait for you to give me one nice solid instance...

So he smiled at Lance after they captured Sendak and Lance said: “We make a good team” that doesn't mean anything, so he smiled at Rolo that could very well be a reference to The Walking Dead because both VAs at the time were from TWD, so he hugs Shiro... So what! Speaking from experience Brother-Friends do this. He and James looked at each other when he returned to Garrison Base - and your point is? They never really liked each other to begin with. “He hasn’t shown much interest in the opposite sex,” um excuse me have you watched Season 1 episode 3? He was always smiling towards Allura. Plus have you ever took into consideration that maybe because he was secretly struggling with inner demons, demons Shiro only knew about, that maybe he just didn't want to get involved with anyone until he feels ready too or that maybe those he knows just doesn't interest him?

For all, we know Acxa maybe that one character that interests him over Allura, Romelle, Pidge, Nyma, Olia, or any other character with the exclusion of Krolia for obvious reasons. Let's state the obvious, she is the first person he meets face to face (eventually) who is a Galra-Hybrid, someone like him who he has the potential to connect with better than his Galra Mother, the Blade, or even the Paladins. And believe me, being a mixed blood myself sometimes it is a lot easier for us in this situation to connect more, we know things that those who aren't in the situation feel. They seem to be looking out for each other, regardless of whether it goes against their current allegiances at the time. And I for one support the idea of him hooking up with Acxa or even Romelle for the sake of argument over the Paladins for my own reasons. And yes that is coming from an old-timer who used to believe “If it is ANYTHING Voltron then it has to be Keith and Allura. That is the way of it, the way it has been, and should always be” up until Season 2.

Now really address the whole claim “Keith isn't interested in women, so he is gay" or “when confronted by the former general taunts he says ‘Can’t we just fight!’ means he is gay” posts when taunted: Have you ever considered that during an intergalactic war, that maybe if he were interested in someone like Acxa, he wouldn't want the enemy to know? Best way to cripple your foe is to target and exploit his or her weakness, and there is no greater weakness to someone than those who hold their heart. Whether it is lovers, parents, siblings, and so forth. Season 6 is a great example of Haggar exploiting it because Keith loved Shiro as a brother. Zethrid and Ezor knew Acxa had a thing for the flippity hair paladin and tried to exploit it and nearly succeeded.

Exposing your enemy’s one true weakness is one thing that is a constant in shows like this, you all should know this and shouldn't have someone point it out. Guyver-I and Mizuki Segawa, Batou and Motoko Kusanagi - since he clearly has a thing for her, Raphael and Mona Lisa of 2012 TMNT series, Superman and Lois Lane, Shiro Amada and Aina Sahalin, Krolia and both her mate & baby Keith, Swamp Thing and Abby Arcane, and so many others! Even Sonic the Hedgehog’s weakness prior to all the Sonic Adventure tie-in comics was Sally Acorn. Each of their enemies has tried to and have exploited this weakness in an attempt to achieve victory. So just because someone doesn't react to taunts like “Oh it must be true love” the way others may have, DOES NOT mean they are gay. Especially if they are part of a warrior class, they may exhibit some feelings for one another out in public or with friends but when they are alone they are free to be themselves.

Now I am not saying you can't “ship” characters with who you want, but if you see things you don't like just don't post things against it. Dial it back a bit for crying out loud. I don't like the idea of Sheith, Klance, or LoKei, Huneith but you don't see me bashing it or saying “Keith is obviously Heterosexual” or some shit like that. I scroll past it. To my understanding from scrolling through Tumblr, Twitter, and Facebook - before admins started to crack down on them, making a post like that is just as bad as posting hateful comments on posts supporting a particular pairing.

And to say things like “Well if Ship-X or Ship-Y becomes canon I am done with the series!” Well, you know what I say to that or those who think they are entitled to something? There’s the Voltron Door, don’t let it hit you on your way out! The series has lasted 30 plus years and will continue to do so without your entitled ass. Sure there are things that were done that I didn't like, but it is not worth sending blackmail/death threats to those involved or being nasty to those involved that it prompts the showrunners to issue an apology letter just to make you feel good about your nastiness.

In my opinion they, the showrunners, should never have apologized in the first place for all your hurt little feelings. The one thing THEY SHOULD apologize for, in my own opinion is ending the series (WHICH WE ARE LUCKY TO HAVE AFTER EVERYTHING NEGATIVE THAT HAS HAPPENED) so soon if indeed Season 8 turns out to be the final one! I’d have like to see it go for another 5 more seasons while bringing in the Vehicle Voltron now that Earth has literally become part of the “Galaxy Alliance,” and is now a prime target with Voltron there. Yes, I say Galaxy Alliance because Earth and the Galaxy Garrison are now part of the Voltron Alliance/Coalition.

Anyway, sure I had my frustrations and joys with Legendary Defender as an Old-Time Voltron fan but I still enjoyed it immensely. And regardless of what happens in the next season (whether it continues or not) and after I look forward to anything Voltron. And for those who keep in mind: there is ALWAYS the next series! 2011’s Voltron-Force was well received for a time but faded into the distance for Voltron: Legendary Defender. But with the nastiness of certain fans, we ALL must prove we deserve any more seasons, a newer series 5 to 10 years down the line, or an animated or live-action movie.

Well this is the end of my rant, like don’t like, applaud or get offended by it I don't care, this is how I see the actions of a certain few of this fandom effecting the rest of us who enjoy the series for what it is and not what we want it to be.

[rachello344]

I’m going to tell you all a story. I don’t really know who all will see this, but I think it’s important for me to make my position and my history clear, so I’m going to write it out anyway.  This will probably have some level of TMI, so your mileage may vary, but I don’t want to censor myself for this.  Includes frank discussions of sexuality, sex ed, etc. so it’s relatively NSFW.  Nothing especially graphic, but again, ymmv

This is... much longer than I meant it to be, so tl;dr: Fiction is meant to be a place to explore.  Being afraid of sexuality or intimidated by it is normal, but trying to control the people around you because of that is not.  The only person whose sexuality is your business is your own, and potentially your partner(s)’.  Policing the sexuality of other people will not give you anything more than the illusion of control.  Illusions, however nice, don’t generally last long.  Be kind to others, and be kind to yourself.

I started reading fanfiction when I was 12 or 13, which I think is about the average.  Everyone around me was starting to talk about dating and the like, and I wanted to figure out what they were talking about without asking anyone I knew.  As an avid reader, the only way I knew how to get contextualized information was through stories.  So I did what I think a lot of kids online inevitably do:  I looked up stories about sex and romance.  The site I was using at the time was DeviantART.

Any of you who have used the site are probably recoiling right now, as you should be.  I have seen so many terrible things written in fiction from such a young age that a lot of the stuff people complain about here seem legitimately tame.  But that’s not the point.  The point is, I was a curious kid looking for answers, and I turned to stories to find them.

I started with original fiction.  Imagine that.  A 13 year old girl online reading effectively hentai-style fiction about OCs she had no connection with.  I learned about my body through badly written dA hentai fic.  I figured out things that felt good.  I experimented quietly when my family left for my brother’s baseball games.  And then, at some point, I found my first fanfiction.

I’d technically written fanfiction of Sonic characters when I was 8 or 9, but they were all just fairy tales with Sonic and Amy as the leads.  I didn’t start with Sonic fanfiction, though.  No, the first fanfiction I remember reading was Naruto.  It was a badwrong Uchiha-cest fic.  I was probably 13 at this point.  I’d never watched Naruto, but I absolutely knew that those characters were related.  Morbidly curious, reluctantly fascinated, I read the fic.

It was short, but it was definitely hot, to my 13 year old standards.  I mean, most things were.  I was 13.  I didn’t exactly have standards.  And then I realized:  If this exists, shouldn’t there be stories with characters I actually know?  Granted, I still read SasuNaruSasu fic because it was SO easy to find--I preferred Naruto topping at the time, but now I’d go back and forth, I think, I just hated the characterization of bottom!Naruto--but I also discovered slash for things I actually knew.  Sonadow was a revelation.

It does not escape me that I got my start in fanfiction reading incest and furry porn, btw.  I mentioned earlier that I was curious, and that was my driving force.  I wanted to see where the limits were.  I would read anything.  And then once I figured out the tags, I could look for the things I liked and avoid the things I didn’t.  I didn’t much care for a lot of things where romance was concerned, but for a PWP those limits evaporated like rain in the desert.  And through this process, I developed standards.  Things I will read, things I won’t, writing styles I prefer, things that I won’t read no matter how well written, writing unskilled enough that I wouldn’t touch it regardless of the kink depicted.  And on and on and on.

I feel like it bears mentioning that the demographic of my junior high and high school was predominantly Mormon and Fundamentalist.  Not all, but a significant number.  We were mostly white, mostly well-off.  I was in as much of a bubble as I could be.  But that meant that until my friends started coming out in high school, I didn’t know any queer people IRL.  I had one friend, Avery, who told me she was Bi in eighth grade, but until about tenth grade, she was the only one who’d told me.

Our sex ed was abstinence only.  Heteronormative and absolutely the kind of thing that we all speak out against.  There were no websites that I could find with reliable info.  I was using google image searches to figure out what genitalia looked like, and I wish I were kidding.  All I’d ever seen was stuff with diseases and sores.  I was told that a girl who has a lot of sex is like an old pair of gym shoes.  I was told that boys will be boys.  I was not told that boys could love boys or girls could love girls.  I was told “Just say no,” instead of any kind of way to tell when it was safe for me to say Yes.

Luckily I wasn’t interested in sex for me, personally.  I was interested in it intellectually.  I wanted to know how it worked, why people chose to do it, what it might feel like, what kinds of sex you could have.  I was arming myself with knowledge in case I ever needed it.

When I was 15, I stumbled on a kinkster’s blog.  She was a writer, and she specialized in BDSM practices and culture, specifically in explaining it to the uninitiated.  I was too young to be there, but the information I got was invaluable.  Again, scarleteen might have existed?  But I’d certainly never found it.  This was the first time I saw someone talking about consent, about condoms and dental dams, about safe words.

It was life changing.  I read her blog avidly.  I spent about three weeks there, researching BDSM.  When I found something that seemed interesting, I’d return to deviantART to see if I could find it in story form.  I’d google terms I wasn’t familiar with or cross check online.  I googled so many things that it’s lucky that my parents let me have my own computer (an old desktop from my dad’s boss).  It’s even luckier that my parents generally let me have free reign.

When I was 17, I found the word Asexual.  It was the best word I’d seen for how I was feeling.  Sex positive asexual.  “It would be fine if it happened, but chastity isn’t exactly a punishment.”  I could make do on my own without much trouble, and I didn’t really like any boys.  Not like that.  (Whether or not I ever liked girls, I’m still trying to puzzle out.)

What I’m trying to say is that my best online experiences were via kinksters.  Fic at the time did NOT go into safer sex details.  They were either implied, glossed over, or outright ignored.  Fantasy doesn’t need to jive with reality, so it’s hardly wrong of them to ignore it.  But that information was truly incredible to me.

And I know I’m an odd case.  Someone who’d never felt sexual attraction to her knowledge researching every kind of sex under the sun sounds strange, I know.  But I’ve always been a researcher.  When I come across something I don’t understand, I look it up.

I guess, the point I was trying to make is that... for me, without all the “bad” erotica and porn, without kinksters, without slash ships, I never would have figured things out for myself.  I had no sexual education to speak of, no context for anything I did no, no one to talk to, and I definitely didn’t have any queer role models or examples in media or in my real life.  The first time I met a lesbian was when I was 13; she was my gym teacher.  And she was the absolute first queer person I ever knew about.  And until college, I’d never met another queer adult that I knew of.  Never.

We had a gay straight alliance in high school, but I didn’t want to get involved.  The cultural climate wasn’t outright homophobic, but I’d learned to keep my head down for being “too much” a feminist.  Like hell was I going to put a target on my back.  I doubt I would have been bullied--no one had come after me yet--but I didn’t really want to tempt fate either.  I stood up for the people around me, and I called it good.

When I hear people say “Kink is unhealthy and glorifies abuse” I think back on my sex ed, on learning that women who sleep around are dirty.  I think about the first time I ever even heard about consent being on a blog about a woman who loved BDSM.  When I hear people say “X fic trope condones Y behavior” I think back on the absolute sewage that I was reading as a young teen.  It’s safe to say that I’ve read just about every kink there is.  I read vore on accident by the time I was 15.  And I didn’t even remember it until I had a visceral flashback to it about a year ago when the jokes first started getting popular.  And despite all of the abuse and rape and badwrong incestuous fic that I’ve read, never once have I knowingly harmed another person.  And that makes the arguments feel a little odd.  Like “violent video games make teens more violent,” the argument that violent erotica and porn makes teens more violent is absurd.

So, for those of you still reading, if you promote anti-shipping or kink critical anything, I think you should look at it a little more closely.  Do some more reading on the other side, within your limits.  Do your own research and figure out where you stand.  I know that sex can be intimidating and scary, especially when you’re young, but something can be scary without being harmful.  Only you know your limits, but there are plenty of places to do research that have reliable information.  I’d be happy to help you find them.  For general sex ed, scarleteen is definitely my go-to.

Policing other people’s sexualities is not the way to make things feel safe again.  I know it seems like a suitable answer, and it makes you feel like you have power and safety, but think about how you feel when people tell you what you are and aren’t allowed to like or do or feel.  Think about how you feel when people accuse you of all kinds of things simply because your views are different.  That’s what anti-culture is doing.  And just because you don’t agree with someone doesn’t mean you have the right to tell them how to feel or how to think.  Because that opens the door to them returning the favor.

“But incest--”  “But CGL--”  “But--”  No.  It doesn’t matter.  If you know it isn’t for you, then avoid it.  That’s the end of it.  Do I think some things are weird or even kinda gross?  Sure.  But that doesn’t mean no one is allowed to like those things.  If that was the case, no one would be allowed to write fic where people have sex in a kitchen or otherwise involve food in the process.  That squicks me out, but that doesn’t mean people don’t want to get off to it.  I avoid the tag and move on.  Don’t waste your time on things you don’t like.  Period.

Life is too short to waste your time on things that turn you off.  That’s time better spent finding the things that turn you on.  And hey, tastes change.  Maybe someday I’ll decide I want to read people having sticky food sex (doubtful).  Maybe someday I’ll decide that I cannot read another tentacle fic ever again (unlikely).  I won’t know until that day does (or doesn’t) come.  But I’m not gonna waste energy worrying about what other people think about my fantasies.  They’re no one’s business but my own, and theoretically a future sex partner should I find one.

Fiction is for exploration, so explore!  Find ways to keep yourself safe.  Figure out what you need to avoid, and how to do it.  Find the things you want to read and read them.  Consume the media you want to consume.  And if anyone bullies you for it or tries to make you feel bad, you block their ass on sight.  They don’t deserve even a second more of your time.

[darkcloud-kcalifornia]

Last time on Nanoha, Jail got a very fancy cradle for all of his cyborg kids.  Has all the best features: dimensional warp drive, shielding, laser cannons, forest parkland on the deck… Anyway, Nanoha is not happy about this as it’s powered by her kid, and so things will presumably get violent very shortly.  Let’s find out just how violent with episode 20, “Infinite Greed”.

* Carim blames herself for not understanding her own prophecy, while Hayate tries to reassure her by saying nobody can know the future.  Despite the fact that they’re talking about a prophecy.  That foretold the future.

* Chrono calls up to tell Hayate that the Saint’s Cradle has just been officially designated Lost Logia: Highly Dangerous, so the fleet is moving in and her force has full permission to act.  It’d be kinda neat to see ship to ship fighting in this show, but given the nature of the show I don’t think that’s gonna happen.

* Uno’s plan as explained to the others is to get gain enough altitude and move to the proper position that they can use the Saint’s Cradle to use the magic of both of Midchilda’s moons to fuel an assault on the surface.  If they can pull that off, they’ll be able to hold the entire planet hostage, meaning the TSAB fleet won’t be able to touch them.

* Huh, apparently Vivio had been cloned from the Belkan equivalent of the Shroud of Turin.  Though the way it’s phrased makes it sound like there are multiple “Belkan king” clone embryos out there, and Vivio’s just the one that was used.  And the priest who did it did so because… a cute girl asked him to.  What.

* Sein also asked about the High Council, as apparently they’re the ones who gave them funding besides Regius, and also approved of the artificial mage and Gadget projects.  And the “revival” of Lutecia and Zest, which it seems Regius did not know about given the way he practically wet himself when he saw who was coming to kill him.

* Ah, so Regius funded the cyborgs, while the High Council funded artificial mages and relics.  Both thinking this would help keep things safe, while breaking every law out there and putting their trust in a mad scientist. *slow clap* Great plan, there. Ends justifies the means, right? Yeah, this kind of crap is one of the many reasons why that philosophy is bullcrap.

* Out in the shadows the viewscreens of the High Council aren’t happy about this sudden yet inevitable betrayal.  But they don’t want to kill Jail because he might still be useful.  These guys are completely incapable of learning, aren’t they?

* … Those are brains in jars.  WHY IS THE HIGH COUNCIL A BUNCH OF BRAINS IN JARS?!  WELL I GUESS WANTING JAIL AROUND ISN’T THE ONLY BAD DECISION THEY’VE MADE, AS AT SOME POINT THEY APPARENTLY DECIDED TO BECOME BRAINS IN JARS!  Also they apparently want the Cradle themselves to install a fascist ruler who will in turn take orders from them.  Because fascist rulers are well known for wanting to listen to others once they have power.  Well let the record show, just because you’ve got nothing but brain that doesn’t mean it’s a very smart brain.

* Incidentally, who do the Brains have for their Pinkies?

* I think that musical sting was supposed to indicate that the woman taking care of the brains was the woman that seduced the priest?  Kinda hard to tell with the lighting and anime face.

* One of the Three Admirals calls up Chrono to exposit to him about the nature of the High Council, and that they were the ones who founded the TSAB.  The admiral also claims that Regius and the brains have always strove to preserve the peace.  Hayate points out that they’ve done a crap job if that’s the case as they trusted a known criminal and now they have a giant warship and an army of drones above the cities, meaning the peace just went down the crapper thanks to their “plans”.  Regardless of intent, thanks to them they now have a madman with a spaceship on their hands, and they have to do something about that.

* Fate apologizes to her kids that they ended up getting placed into different teams when Hayate decided to split the party, but the kids are more worried that she’s gonna go Rambo and try to take on Jail herself.

* Signum exposits what she’s found out about Zest.  He was once a mage in the TSAB who was a friend of Regius, but supposedly died 8 years ago.

* Oh hey, family portrait. Should make keeping track of who’s who easier as the collar isn’t always in a good spot to read.

* Nanoha and Vita break the news to the kids that they’re on their own for this mission.  But Nanoha tries to encourage them by telling them to close their eyes and remember their training.  These are very painful memories for them.

* Subaru needs a bit of extra encouragement, even though that’s the opposite of what Subaru had stuck around for.

* As Storm Raider carries the kids off to their battle the adults drop out of the bottom of the Arthra, and Carim completely removes their limiters.  Even Hayate’s.  Full power, total destruction!

* Fate flies up to Nanoha and tells her that she knows Nanoha won’t listen to anybody about not using her dangerous forbidden powerup, but that she’d appreciate it if Nanoha didn’t overdo it when she does inevitably use the thing.  I can only image the ulcers Fate would end up getting if Nanoha ever learned the Kaioken.

* Nanoha retorts that Fate’s just as likely to use her own forbidden powerup.  I swear, these two… this is what happens when shonen heroes fall in love.  Even if they are magical girls.

* Oh look, the woman who was taking care of the brains is one of Jail’s minions.  And she just killed two of them with cyborg claws before starting to monolog to the remaining brain.  I’m guessing she would be Due then.  Well, can’t say I’ll miss the brains.  Really, they were stupid enough to trust a mad scientist.

* On a sperate note, huh, we’re getting to see a character in this series actually make a kill. Mind you they’re brains in jars so there’s not a whole lot of gore here, but a kill is a kill.

* So the brains didn’t just hire Jail.  They created him.  And the code name for the project was Unlimited Desire.  Yeah, smooth going there guys.  Due even spells out that power you can’t control is inevitably going to come back to bite you, and that they were doomed from the moment they created the not-so-good doctor to do their dirty work.

* The episode ends with the TSAB mages going to town on the Cradle’s Gadget escort, and Chrono being informed the fleet will reach firing range in three hours.

 That episode took some unexpected twists.  You wouldn’t really expect brains in jars from a show called Magical Girl Magical Nanoha. You also wouldn’t expect them to kill the brains in the same episode.  But well, Due wasn’t wrong about that outcome being inevitable.  The brains metaphorically played with fire, and they got burned.  And by burned I mean they died, and their entire world is now in danger because they ignored the advice of never calling up something you can’t put back down. Stupid brains.  But beyond that it would seem the actual action was put off at least one more episode, as this was all pretty much exposition.  But it was exposition that left the viewers with a lot more answers rather than questions.  Other than “who thought it would be a good idea to take orders from brains in jars”?  Apparently not Jail and Hayate at least, though Regius and the Admirals seemed to disagree on that.  I think this would be one of the subjects I agree with Jail about.

[toddlazarski]

Last Suppers

Shepherd Express

“Please let me go ‘round again.”

— John Prine

I thought the apocalypse would be more exciting. Some kind of heaven-sent fireball, a mushroom cloud of malaise, Mad Max dune buggies. In this far off light I’d always pictured myself bearded, barricaded, adroitly philosophical, suddenly quite adept at swinging a sort of spiked bat or other homemade zombie stopper. Instead, so far, some five weeks in, nobody I know has gotten sick. Nobody in my orbit has died. Even being accosted by our neighborhood Jehovah’s Witness on the street, being told of end times and other corporeal human collapses I couldn’t stand or fully hear—being as they were, uttered by a man six feet away, while a two-year-old pent-up from quarantine perched on my shoulders and periodically bonked my head urging movement—took place from a mindful, strangely respectable social distance. 

Mostly these days just find me as an iPhone-glued glut of dissociated dread. A musty sack of torpor filling out ironically-named Champion jogging pants and a Totino’s-stained hoodie crowned by a hastily shaved head. What I’m currently reminded of, for some reason, from somewhere deep within the lizard brain that was weaned on world-end movies, is Deep Impact, and the way it all ends for Tea Leoni’s character: in front of a beloved beachhouse, with brave acceptance, facing truth and demise in the form of an imminent asteroid death, with her—father, maybe? (This recall may be way off, as I only saw the movie once, maybe 20 years ago, but I have a current therapist-mandated pause from internet research as the slightest twitch toward dot com-ing leads inevitably, instantly to a Milla Jovovich in Fifth Element-like doom scroll of terror). Regardless, this is how I view my resignation when being generous: a soft, somber, single tear strong-willed nod and jutted-chin acquiescence. I’ve had my restaurant meals, if they never come again. I’ve had too many, at too many bars. I’ve lived. So, here I am, at the freezer again, my own beloved beachhouse, mustering strength, wondering how much Ben and Jerry’s will pass before life maybe resembles normal again, or else until I see St. Pete, or St. Paul, or whichever is the one at the gates. Measuring the days till Quetzalcoatl in pints of Chunky Monkey. Wondering if I’ll ever again eat Cherry Garcia as a little reward, for a jog and some push ups maybe, instead of a desperate substitute for therapy, lobotomy. My biggest preoccupation is really Instacart deliveries, and the thought of them, the threat of them, where we let the bags sit on the porch like sentinels with tales from the front lines, or like badges of middle class virus-avoidance privilege. We hope the wind cleans off the Corona, I suppose, and then we let the same bags sit inside, eyeing our wares cautiously, suspiciously by the door, weighing the three articles advising cleansing groceries is unnecessary versus the one—always from Medium—that states everything inside a grocery store will likely give you and your grandmother the plague. Then, between the subsequent wiping—of course—and the beginning to plan six days out for the next Instacart delivery, and then the moisturizing of hands out of necessity from washing hands far too much, there has been such a background din of quiet second-coming contemplation. With little to do but wipe the door handle again, with the closest social contact being yet another episode of Cheers, there’s been too much time to think on all this, on all that went, all that was snuffed by a brutal harsh Monday morning reminder—all our kicks, our joys, our dinner plans and drink diversions, all that was maybe never really deserved in the first place.

For one or another—or none at all—reason that I choose to not consider too closely, the last normal weekend in contemporary American existence was a big one. A Friday night trip to Enlightened Brewing to check out Derek Pritzl and the Gamble was a promising prospect, sure. They had recently introduced me to, made me fall deeply in love with, play over and over again, John Prine’s “Speed of the Sound of Loneliness.” Still, as things were, it was largely run-of-the-mill in those distant days of social possibility. Just line up one of a few willing babysitters, jot on the calendar absent-mindedly, leave it peppered, like always, with the growing-old adult notion of if I feel like it. The self-importance of a modern American. The expectation, the world owing me it’s pearls and it’s oysters and it’s artisanal double India Pale Ales, for some reason. There for taking, when we wished. It’s like we were all Mad Men men, coming home from work where you expect your dinner to be waiting, your children cleaned and polite. You did a little bit of work and now you are owed something, the other half of your existence, calm and orderly and “here are your slippers, dear.” Now there is no choosing or taking or rewarding yourself with a night out, or rewarding yourself with a night in. It’s simply like our parents have given us an indefinite timeout, with more whiskey, yes, but also more, much more, morbidity. And also our parents are not coming to our room, eventually, to tell us it will all be ok. Rather, now, they might come, and stand on the sidewalk, while we stand on the front porch awkwardly, not knowing what to do with our hands, with no Easter hugs even considered, and mom might leave sugar cookies in a bag on the sidewalk, as if we were in prison, and she was the jailer that had to slide our sustenance gruel through a slot in the door. Only her said bag came with a real wonder: do we have to disinfect that now? I ran into a friend at Enlightened, then another, then a friend of a friend, and then a work friend—hugs for all the normal tangly tendrils of an adequate social life, amplified by guitars and rollicking songs of regret and craft suds and jocular end-of-week revelry. The band was twangy and driving and jostly, and I wanted it to be louder. Actually my spoiled fragile ego knew I deserved it to be louder. Meanwhile I talked importantly about basketball and somebody told me about their trip to New Orleans. “I’ll be there in a month,” I said. Like an ignoramus, like tempting fate, like I was one of the kids on the playground in Sarah Connor’s nuclear apocalypse nightmare in Terminator 2. There was no Purell in sight, in mind. 

Later, at the Newport, the bartender handed me a beer list, and I didn’t even note that, or contemplate my mortality on the fact, he wasn’t wearing latex gloves. I leaned close, doing the thing you have to do at crowded bars where you wedge between two seated patrons, brush one or both, amplify your voice to the hunched-forward Sam Malone, spittle and open mouths and casual “excuse me, I’m sorry, man” contact with strangers not an issue or thought, let alone transgression against the whole of humanity’s existence. The bummer about the NBA that night was that the Bucks were losing to the Lakers. The saddest part about John Prine was the line: “How can a love that'll last forever, get left so far behind?” What would any of us say, had we knowl—in 5 days the entirety of the NBA machinery would be suddenly halted, a broom handle stuck in the grinding gears? That I would have no chance at seeing live music again, for the foreseeable future? And that, weeks later, due to the same crippling circumstances, John Prine would be dead?  

The next night, somehow, as if acting on some last-chance latent level, I found myself barreling south for a Saturday night in Chicago. I rode a crowded Amtrak. I held the steel handle up the steps, followed along close in line, plopped unworriedly right on the worn blue cloth seat, I ordered a Lyft, I closed a packed bar with out-of-town big-city tenacity. Old friends shared birthday cake in a corner. I flushed a toilet, maybe didn’t wash my hands for a full 20 seconds, poked at the jukebox, clinked glasses, performed once-normal finger and hand functions that would now cause me to douse both extremities to the elbow in alcohol and ask for a light. My buddy and I kept drinking like we were Goodfellas, bound shortly for a stint in the can, which, in hindsight, we sort of were. Then we ordered another Lyft back to his place, like signing the tab on the last real Saturday night. Sunday was disarmingly sunny, soft, pleasant, the kind of warm early spring sliver that catches you off balance, leaves you without the right clothes or your sunglasses. So we sat inside, at the bar at a place called the Moonlighter, where we nursed hangovers with micheladas and shared fiery chicken wings and sloppily severed a grease-dripping American-cheesed burger and shoved it down our gaping gullets and licked fingers and laughed at the bartender’s Nascar sweatshirt, bitched about his lassitude. It was still a day where you could like a bartender or not like a bartender, and you didn’t have to wonder if all bartenders had simply vanished, poof, gone on the wind, Leftovers-style. You could do your drinking business and move on to the next one. Which we did, literally, deciding on pizza and homebrews at a spot called Bungalow that takes—that took—itself probably a bit too seriously. We’ve often fallen into this habit of double lunch-ing, not so much because we are slobs, fat and greedy and gluttonous. And not as some kind of intuitive acknowledgment that we were approaching end times. It also wasn’t just a love of time together, collapsing the 100 miles that separates our lives with a collective unspoken vow of ceaseless Epicureanism. Well, maybe exactly because of all those reasons. Either way we ate, glad they take, took, themselves so seriously with each bite, sip. And I got a pie to go, tucking it under my arm through Union Station, cradling the box like a toddler’s favorite stuffed dinosaur during my ride home nap, a last pepperoni and sausaged vestige from the world of living, togetherness, an experience slice from before we began to view each other as potentially poisonous flowers.        

My final restaurant meal was the day after, at Copper Kitchen, my neighborhood greasy spoon of fluffy omelets and watery coffee that you can never get half down before a refill magically appears tableside. A welcoming diner with video poker, and some staff that still eye me a bit questioningly because I’ve only been coming here for two years, and not 30, like most patrons always around me. By now though, with some work, our regular waitress is beginning to know the score, my daughter and I having seemingly earned the corner booth I always steer her toward. I grab the high chair myself, never need a menu, she orders her own “Mickey Mouse pancakes, please” in an impossibly tiny voice. In many ways, actually, it feels small town-worn, lived-in, like a John Prine song. A surreal slowdown, a place with a cook with a “short order face.” A spot of warm plates and unjudging respite. “If I came home, would you let me in? Fry me some pork chops and forgive my sin?” Our daddy-daughter day this early March Monday was flowing in a far more friendly manner though: another successful trip to the Domes behind us, we had full-stomach cold afternoon warm bed naps ahead. I wanted to tell her some news I was suppressing too, having just briefly talked to my wife on the phone about her recent brief phone call with the doctor. The info was just beginning to gel and bacon-grease coagulate down around my ham and cheese omelet and double-buttered rye. “You’re going to have a sister,” I almost said. Instead I let her eat more bacon, I let the waitress squeeze her arm affectionately as she poured me yet more benign coffee that I would sip and sip until it was time to leave. I didn’t say anything. It wasn’t time yet. But maybe I missed the time. How could I have known, that now, weeks later, Copper Kitchen and restaurants like it, all restaurants, are in real danger of never fully opening again? How was I to know that soon there would be no business anywhere for good news?

[feynites]

(1/2) omg I have to tell you that I just came across your tumblr post about "Evil Chancellor Traytor" & it made me laugh so hard and reminded me so much of my own childhood in which me & my sister had all kinds of elaborate characters for our society of toys (including one of my mom's old Barbies from the 60's whose hands had been chewed by mice in my grandmother's attic) & my little brother also used to follow our stories-anyway the point is! What you wrote was hilarious & I would totally...

(2/2) ... read more tales from your society of childhood toys! It was hilarious and awesome! Also you seem really cool! Ok that is all! :)

-

Thank you!! X3

Having siblings you get along with seems to be a real boon on this front, it seems - lots of energy to bounce off of, and someone to consistently share and re-tell all the stories with. 

We played a ton of games, although probably none as easily summarized in an entertaining short story as Evil Chancellor Traytor. But. Lemme see... uhm... oh! Okay, we can try the story of the king who was friends with him. King Bazooka.

To begin, we’ll need context. One of the major sources of toys when my siblings and I were a bit younger was the local convenience store (which my dad ran... into the ground). But, while it was around, it had a selection of cheap plastic action figures. Which we could acquire at-cost, and so, we had plenty of them ourselves. This is where we got our cheap Power Rangers knock-off toys (one of which would eventually become the king mentioned in Traytor’s story).

For reference, they looked like this:

There were a few basic models, all of them very ripped, in a variety of colours ranging from the above yellow and red, to blue and pink and white and black and so on and so forth. Their limbs could move and their knees could bend, and their feet and hands could also be rearranged to some extent (I think, maybe not the hands) but they weren’t exactly durable, so their limbs popped off pretty regularly.

Anyway, we had a veritable army of these toys, but also something of a problem with them at first. See, my sister and I were both girls, but none of the models for these toys came with the usual, y’know, curvy boob-and-hips figure that would typically denote them as women. There were pink ones, and of course we were well familiar with the concept that pink = girl, but the pink Ranger Warriors were also savagely ripped. But we didn’t want to have an army of all boys, how would we apply our usual range of soap opera cliches? Who would get unexpectedly pregnant or engaged? In space?

The solution came by way of a library book about female body building, that I had semi-recently discovered and quickly recollected. I, in all my worldly older sister glory, asserted that these toys were totally capable of being women, they were just really muscular women. Skepticism was expressed by my younger brother and sister. The Book was called for. A magazine was acquired instead. Images were found of ripped lady body builders, and scrutinized for accuracy.

Skepticism was retracted. It was agreed that this solution worked, and that, in the tradition set before us by the Power Rangers television show, all pink and yellow versions of the toys (and any others we considered suitably effeminate for some reason or another, but definitely those ones) were The Girl Ones. Dilemma resolved, we immediately set about playing with them, of course, and constructing stories around them and incorporating them into our existing populace of toys. We discovered some neat stuff about these action figures. One was that their hands could hold onto stuff pretty well, and were quite suited to dangling them off of lines and chords and the attachments for blinds and tying them to strings and whipping them around like helicopters. ‘Space exploration’ required a lot of this. Of course, this also meant that our most intrepid heroes tended to be the ones who suffered injuries like ‘lost thumb’, and ‘severed limb’, and ‘complete dismemberment’. 

Most of the time, though, when something broke, it could be popped back into place. Thumbs, torsos, and heads were the general exception to this, I seem to recall. But every so often the ball that locked into the socket for a limb’s joint would also break, rather than just popping loose, and then the only hope was glue (which would reattach the limb, but also result in ‘mobility issues’ where it couldn’t move around at all).

So... in essence, we had an army of space-faring disabled gender non-conforming lady bodybuilders, and their brothers/husbands/boyfriends/etc, protecting the universe. We developed ridiculously deep attachments to some of these toys, with all their wonky limbs and wobbly knees and scratched paint, and we’d do our best to keep them away from the dog (but the dog didn’t go for them too often, because the plastic was too hard), and also any adults who might throw them away.

Eventually, though, the convenience store closed, and we no longer had easy access to new Ranger Warriors, or even the option of replacing ones who got too damaged to keep playing with. So my sister and I determined that it was time for our space adventurers to retire. No more whipping them down staircases or tying them to fan blades. They became Space Veterans, who would walk among the populace of other toys, and recount gruesome war stories and endure PTSD flashbacks and sometimes sit outside the tavern, drinking and looking up at the stars. Wistful, but by and large also resigned to the fact that their space exploration days were done, and they had other things to do. Quieter lives to get on with.

All but one.

Bazooka.

See, each Ranger Warrior was named after some kind of weapon. Names ranged from the creatively-dubbed ‘Gun’, to stuff like ‘Scythe’ or ‘Artillery’. The last Ranger Warrior we got before the store went under was a red and silver one, and by then most of the standard names were taken, so we dubbed him ‘Bazooka’. With a name like that, it was possibly inevitable that he was kind of an over-dramatic hothead.

But Bazooka had no battle scars, no lost or broken limbs. He had barely gotten a chance to fight in the Space Wars before his unit was recalled, and the peace treaties were signed. His older sister had a medal of Highest Honours, and had lost mobility in both of her arms, and could tell tall tales about the days when her unit would wade through alien wilds on daring missions. Bazooka was still pretty fresh. Signing up was supposed to be his chance for glory, his chance to prove himself! But instead, he had been washed out with all the old-timers, too.

Even though our space heroes might have retired, though, not all of their enemies did. One of the treaties signed granted an embassy to the Happy Meal Barbies. Twin sisters, forever rooted in place against plastic stands, with eerily off-model eyes. One of them had a bicycle prop, but neither of them could actually move off of their stands, because they were actually alien shapeshifters who had... misunderstood some images of humans, before they ‘locked in’ their final forms and found themselves stuck with them. So one just had this bike, fused to her, that she never rode, and that was technically part of her body. The other I don’t recollect as vividly.

Anyway, they were evil, like genuinely to the bone evil, but also sometimes sympathetic because one of them was part bike. And so of course when the dog claimed the old king, they hatched a scheme to become the Queens of Action Figure Dystopia.

The details of that particular adventure are lost to the sands of time. What is known, though, is that it involved a lot of hexes, and a giant purple marble called The Esper, and when all was said and done the twins only managed to be queens for a short period of time before they were overthrown. In a scene ripped straight from The Transformers Movie (the old cartoon one, not the Michael Bay stuff that was nowhere to be seen yet), Bazooka touched The Esper and ended up becoming the next king by way of ancient whatsits and magical such-and-such, regardless of his appalling lack of actual qualifications. All hail the new king!

He sucked at it. For a long time. The theme of ‘Bazooka has no goddamn idea what he’s doing’ was a pretty substantial one, in my memory, but it probably only lasted for a few days before he started getting his shit in gear and tried to solve problems with methods that did not require explosives. And he earned the friendship of his Evil Chancellor, who he would come to trust above all others and would not stand to hear besmirched (of course, to most other people’s eyes, this just looked like a resilient strain of his incompetence, and general opinion was that Bazooka was well-meaning-but-dim, and Evil Chancellor Traytor was... well... evil).

By the time Traytor died, Bazooka was among the last of the remaining Ranger Warriors. Many had been thrown out by then, culled in an effort to curtail our childish messes because, of course, nearly all of them were visibly broken in some way. Others had been misplaced or destroyed in any number of ways. Bazooka’s sister was long gone, and so were my two favourites, and pretty much it was just down to the king, who had grown weary even if his parts still moved and his armour was unscratched. The deaths of so many of his friends and loved ones weighed upon him. In his way, he had always been separate from them, always straddled a divide as someone not quite a veteran, not quite a hero, not quite a politician. He never really achieved any of the greatness he sought. Only the wisdom to realize that this greatness had probably never existed in the first place.

When he buried himself in Traytor’s name, it was, in many respects, the final chapter of the space heroes’ saga. In the end, few of them met happy fates. But while they were around, they witnessed the cosmos from the edge of spinning fan blades, and got possessed by alien brain worms who made them try to drown their best friends in the kitchen sink, and found out that they were secretly half snake alien and had mental breakdowns over it, and maintained orbital facilities in obscure parts of space where the only company they had for months at a time was the voice on the other side of a quantum transmission, and even became royalty (a few times).

So, as a toy’s existence might go, none of them did too badly, either.

[upshotre]

Inagural Address by H.E. Babajide Sanwo-Olu, Governor of Lagos State on Wednesday 29th may 29, 2019

“AWAKENING A GREATER LAGOS”   PROTOCOL 1. By the grace of Almighty God and Your votes, I stand before you today as your Governor. (Pause) This day marks the beginning of a new chapter in our journey to greatness. Today, I ask you to join me on this journey to awaken a Greater Lagos. When we speak of a Greater Lagos, we speak not empty words.  It is a deep and profound assertion we mean. 2. We intend to make history by making for ourselves and our children a better future. 2 Therefore, on this day, on this precious land we call our home, let us stand together in the very face of history. Let us vow to ourselves, and to posterity that we shall not just dream of a Greater Lagos. Let us agree this day that we shall collectively rise up to build the Lagos of our dreams. We need not be discouraged by the challenges that may be apparent. Today is an opportunity for us to forge ahead in our quest for a Greater Lagos. It is possible! No one should ever underestimate the spirit of Lagos and the resilience of its people. Yes, hard problems may confront us, but we will also confront them. Every problem will lose its potency to our unity. 3 Therefore, Lagosians, in this new chapter of our lives, we need not cry or fret. We are united by our common purpose of a Greater Lagos and fulfilling future. Posterity has given us this day to commence our journey to greatness. We need to envision the glorious end of working together, tirelessly and committedly, towards achieving a Lagos of our dreams. By our individual and collective efforts and the Grace of God, these dreams will become a reality. In Lagos State, our story has been of successes and achievements. Since 1999, our tradition of progressive governance has set Lagos apart and strengthened people’s belief in our ideology.   And that is the very reason I stand before you on this historic day as your Governor. While we celebrate the victory of progressive governance and democracy, tomorrow we must be ready to stand on guard and be fully vigilant. 4 Democracy and progressive governance hold only to the extent that we protect and nurture them. While Lagos glimmers as a beacon of progressive and quality governance, our nation now undergoes a historic battle to establish progressive and just governance. Lagos must again rise and help lead this nation to fuller progress and to a closer realization of the greatness that exists within all Nigerians. This inauguration symbolizes such an awakening. Today, I stand before you as your governor, but also as your friend, brother; neighbor and your servant. I stand here to ask that you join me to script and fashion this greater Lagos with the creativity of our minds. Let the ingenuity of our hands, the sweat of our labor and the compassion that resides in our hearts be committed to this common goal. 5 We are but human beings. Our time on this earth is finite, and shall one day pass. At some point, we shall all enter the book of history. This is inevitable.  But we can choose how we walk into history. Shall we do so as masters of our fate, or as slaves to things that seek to suppress us? When the history of our moment is written, let it not be told in tears of defeat, rather let it resound with the anthem of collective victory. Let our time be proclaimed in golden celebration of a state, and of a people who stood in unity of purpose to make their home a Greater one. In this, we simply adhere to the tradition of enlightened government set by those who came before us. We owe a large debt of gratitude 6 to Asiwaju Bola Ahmed Tinubu and to Babatunde Raji Fashola SAN. Asiwaju led the team that created the blueprint for development; both administrations faithfully executed that economic blueprint and established the structures and institutions of progressive governance in the process. Governor Akinwunmi Ambode pushed forward in a special manner. His efforts and actions shall be duly remembered. As your Governor, I know fully well who I am, because I know where I am from. More importantly, I know where I am headed. I have been a part of this progressive journey since its very inception. I know first-hand the concerted efforts that went into planning so many of the innovations we now see and enjoy. 7 It will be my job to continue that process by refining and perfecting the foundation laid by the preceding administrations.     In this regard, I shall forever remain loyal to the aspirations of the people and to the developmental blueprint that has brought so much success to our dear state. The Babajide Sanwo-Olu you see today shall not change and try to become something I am not. My prayer is only that I grow and improve as your Governor to implement good policies and bring the prosperity you deserve. On this day, I speak to the young and old, Christian and Muslim, those who trace their earliest ancestry back to this land, and to those who came last week. 8 I speak to the poor and to the rich. I speak to the Danfo driver as much as to the millionaire, to the fruit vendor and much as to the real estate titan. I speak to employer and employee, I speak to teacher and student, I speak to mother and father. The civil service as well as the private sector - We are all Lagosians. I say to you all let us explore how we can best establish a harmony of interests and avoid the growing tendency to focus on those things that differentiate and divide one Lagosian from another. By the dint of Providence, this small tract of land intersected and surrounded by waterways and lagoons has become home to roughly 22 million people, with their various dreams and aspirations. Not only is Lagos home to so many people and their aspirations, it is also the catalyst of economic growth for much of Nigeria. 9 The world outside sees Lagos as Nigeria. We are Nigeria’s door to the global economy and the global economy’s door to Nigeria. As long as Lagos flourishes, Nigeria has more than a fair chance to enjoy the development and growth needed for its deserving population. If Lagos falters, Nigeria also stumbles. The reality of the integral role we play in Nigeria’s ascent to national greatness coupled with the untapped potentials we hold to produce even greater wealth to improve the living conditions of our people are the things that make Lagos a magnificent place. These strategic aspects of our current reality, and of our immediate future, bestow on me and my administration a profound responsibility. 10 My goal is to advance the social and economic progress of this state and its people; regardless of your faith, social class, or your origin of birth.   As long as you adopt the spirit of Lagos, Lagos in turn shall adopt you. As I said in my acceptance speech, I am too focused on moving Lagos forward to give a second thought to where a person may have come from. As long as you are animated by the spirit of achievement, cooperation and tolerance, then you are Lagosian. This is my motto. This is how I see our home and this is how I shall run my government. I shall select the best and most qualified people to hold positions in our government. My door shall remain open to all. I shall seek the advice of the learned, the wise and the ordinary Lagosian, for in the common man resides much wisdom and fairness of thought. 11 While one cannot help but hear the kind words of friends, I must pay even closer attention to the voice of my critics. In constructive criticism lies the seeds of improvement. With these things in mind, let me quickly outline my goals for a Greater Lagos. The Deputy Governor, Dr. Kadri Obafemi Hamzat and I are single-minded in our desire to bequeath to our successors a far Greater Lagos than the one we inherited today And to do so, we have formulated a concise framework that encapsulates our collective vision for the state and ensures that our undertaking remains focused and our communication remains clear as we endeavour to build a Greater Lagos we can all be proud to call home.       12 The framework, as our six (6) Pillars of Development Agenda, is captured by the acronym, “T.H.E.M.E.S, which I will briefly talk about: T – Traffic Management and Transportation Here, we must act with urgency to execute a transport masterplan that will fully integrate road, rail and water transportation into a multi-modal transport system that makes commuting easy for Lagosians. We must also ensure compliance with all traffic rules and regulations on our roads. H – Health and Environment Because we know the significance of a clean environment in preventive healthcare, we have a moral duty to provide basic health care for our people, especially those who cannot afford it. Under our comprehensive health program, we will place special emphasis on maternal healthcare, malaria and water borne diseases. 13 We will also focus on sanitation and waste management, by ensuring that our drainage systems are functional and kept clean. E – Education and Technology We will invest in the education of our children and young adults. By increasing the budgetary allocation to education, this government will empower teachers in every local government and strengthen their capacity to deliver quality education to our children. New educational infrastructure will cultivate a learning environment that prepares our children for a new world that demands creativity, intuition and critical thinking. We will ensure technology is integrated into our school curriculum and empower our youths with the much-needed skills for the jobs of tomorrow. 14 M – Making Lagos a 21 st  Century Economy By investing in critical infrastructure, we will accelerate the growth of our economy and empower the private sector who are the real engines of growth.     We must break the deadlock that shackles our power distribution, provide sustainable urban settlements that addresses the current deficit; while at the same time building a smart city that achieves urban harmony and sets a new bar in our nation. E - Entertainment and Tourism We will nurture and showcase our cultural heritage and unique hospitality, support our entertainment, visual arts and sports sectors, and inspire the kind of creativity from our most talented individuals that will enhance our reputation at home – and abroad. 15 S – Security and Governance The last of these pillars of development is Security and Governance. It is important to ensure that we set the right tone for good governance and accountability at the top. To this end, my administration will ensure that we walk the talk as far as transparency, the rule of law and fiscal discipline are concerned. We will make sure that we create the right environment in which security and safety of lives and property are guaranteed. Our ultimate goal would be to ensure that Lagos state remains one of the top destinations on the African continent to live, work and invest in. 16 These six (6) Pillars of Development represent our response to the yearnings of the people. They constitute the foundations that must be restored for future generations. And should we fulfil our promise and deliver on these pillars, we are most confident that we will have succeeded in setting Lagos on a new trajectory of economic growth and development that would be unprecedented in our entire history.     Let me also add that in doing all of these, the welfare and socio-economic well-being of our hardworking civil servants would equally be given the priority that it truly deserves. Similarly, our youths and women would be well integrated into our governance structure to equally contribute their utmost to our developmental strides. 17 The mission upon which we embark today, shall happen. As we gather force and momentum, there will be no mortal power that can stop our movement towards greater prosperity, justice and hope. I urge you all therefore to lend yourself to this excellent cause and join our march to victory over our social and economic challenges.  Do not stand aside and let this good development pass you by. The hearts and hands of the Deputy Governor, Dr. Kadri Obafemi Hamzat and myself are extended to each and every Lagosian. Join us on this noble journey as we strive together to birth and nurture a Greater Lagos. However, make no mistake, the success of our development agenda must be a shared and collective responsibility. 18 I implore us all as Lagosians to rededicate ourselves to contribute our individual quotas positively and responsibly in this new drive to reform our society and take it to a higher pedestal.     We must imbibe the spirit of being our brothers’ keeper in our daily lives at home, work, recreational places and worship centers, and most especially on our roads. With these goals, we embark on a new social contract that will ultimately be beneficial to all; irrespective of age, religion, socio-economic status or ethnicity. Every Lagosian has a role in this government and we will on our part, certainly walk the talk in all that we would do as your elected officials. 19 As I conclude, I agree that Lagos has many challenges before it, challenges that have the power to consume us. We must therefore be prudent, yet not afraid to act, to ensure that this large population enjoys the economic prosperity and social security that our developmental agenda has to offer. We have, without doubt, been placed here at a momentous time. Let us make the most of what God has given us.  We cannot afford to do less than that. On this day, I vow as your Governor that I will serve the public cause with my utmost ability and commitment. With your help, I know we can make Lagos Greater still. Indeed, our best days lie ahead of us. 20 Thank you God bless the Federal Republic of Nigeria, God bless Lagos State God bless you all. H.E. Babajide Olusola Sanwo-Olu Governor, Lagos State. Read the full article

[ignis-scientia-estrogen-brigade]

~(I still suck at titles sorry)~ [Pre-Road Trip Imagine; 1900 Words]

[ISEB Author’s Note: This headcanon occurred to me in the midst of working on several other fics I’ve promised to people, and would positively not be ignored until I’d written the words out on paper. In that regard, I apologize for interrupting my regularly scheduled Asks in favor of my own personal drabbles; my responses to your prompts will resume shortly.]

Considering he’s known Noctis longer than any of the other Chocobros, we know painfully little about Ignis Scientia’s life prior to the opening of Final Fantasy XV; I did happen to catch the strategist’s episode of Brotherhood, but even that source was scant on the details. So I thought I’d come up with my own little backstory of Specs, complete with insight into the nature and dynamic of his relationship to the crown prince; he’s not quite the BFF that Prompto is, nor is he precisely a mentor like Gladio, but the dialogue I encountered between Ignis and Noct throughout the game really cemented his status (in my mind) as arguably the most influential of the Crownsguard. I do hope you enjoy this imagining, and feel free to appropriate it into your own headcanon as you see fit!

On days when the weight of the world feels particularly heavy on his shoulders, and the distant memory of simpler times stirs within him old feelings of nostalgia, the strategist presses his fingers to the glass of a picture frame he keeps stored on a dusty bookshelf in his apartment. Other than the clothes on his back, the photograph was the only other personal effect he had brought with him on the road to Altissia all those years ago, and he had taken painstaking care not to lose it as he traveled from Insomnia to Nifleim and everywhere in between.

He can’t actually see the image, of course, but when he traces his fingertips along the smooth surface, Ignis is able to recall to mind in near-perfect detail the faces of the youths displayed within. Prompto Argentum, his feathery blond hair mimicking that of the domesticated chocobos he held so dear; Gladiolus Amicitia, when only one vertical scar adorned his face; and Noctis Lucis Caelem, his king, his majesty, his oldest friend, back before he was called upon by the Six to defeat the starscourge and was lost to the ages entirely.

It was never the intent of the Scientia family for Ignis to be groomed as a royal steward and counselor to the crown prince—at least, not at first. Noctis had lost his mother as an infant, and Regis had grown concerned with his young son’s increasingly introverted nature that he thought perhaps introducing him to a playmate near his own age might help to bring him out of his shell. The future strategist was an only child himself, and happened to have an uncle in direct service to the king, so a six-year-old Ignis was invited to spend a summer at the Citadel as glorified entertainment to a toddler.

He remembers Noct as a sweet boy; quiet and shy, but remarkably astute for his age. He had an active imagination, as evident by the numerous toys and building blocks he transformed into fantastical settings daily, and was eager to immerse himself in the fairytales of the books Ignis brought with him from the north, but only if his new companion would agree to do the reading for him. That was fine by Ignis; wooden swords and play fighting more rambunctious children tended to gravitate toward appealed little to his intellect, but he could spend hours with his nose buried in the pages of his favorite stories and never get bored in the slightest.

And so those hours turned into days, and the days eventually stretched out into weeks; when the weather was favorable, the two often sat out under a tree just beyond the palace inventing their own fables, until the late afternoon gave way to early twilight. If a squall happened to pass over the crown city, they were content to barricade themselves beneath a blanket fort and pretend to be the reigning king of Lucis and his most loyal Kingsglaive. The timid child he had met at the onset of their accord gave way to a much more articulate character, and although Ignis could’ve sworn the summer had just begun—the mind plays tricks on a memory—his time at the Citadel was soon over, and he received word that his parents were on their way to fetch their only son.

But his parents never made it to Crown City, because their vehicle was found mangled beyond all recognition on the road leading to Insomnia, its passengers deceased long before emergency assistance could be provided. Some said it was simply a misfortunate but commonly occurring automobile accident; others whispered that since the wreck was discovered outside the safety of the city’s walls, perhaps a daemon—rare as they were east of Leide—might’ve been to blame for the catastrophe. Regardless of the true factors at play, Ignis suddenly found himself orphaned and alone, the prospects of his future uncertain.

The strategist takes pride in remembering the important milestones of his life, but admittedly that particular period remains rather hazy in his mind. It was, however, the only time he can recall ever openly weeping in front of Noctis; Ignis’ elated smiles while celebrating the prince’s fourth birthday not a week prior turned to tears of sorrow on his face in an instant. “It’ll be okay,” Noct had said to him, not older than a babe himself. “My mom died, too.”

Something changed within Ignis that day; he began to compartmentalize the more whimsical facets of his personality, his newfound stoicism shaping the seriousness that eventually defined his mannerism as an adult. Regis must have taken note of his abrupt shift in priorities—in addition to the positive influence the younger Scientia had over his son—because he proposed the opportunity to turn his tragedy into prosperity by offering to appoint Ignis as personal advisor to the heir apparent.

In hindsight, the idea of pledging his service to the crown was an awfully weighty decision to impart onto the shoulders of a juvenile, and the strategist isn’t quite sure if he was the lifelong companion Noctis even wanted. But he was almost certainly the one the prince needed, and the fate of his own parents was regrettably out of his hands, so he mitigated his grief by focusing his attention on the few variables he could control; charming as he was, Noct could be downright insolent when forced into doing something he didn’t want to do—eating his vegetables was a particular source of disagreement—and it seemed like only Ignis could hold fast against his stubbornness at times.

As the years passed, and he grew more accustomed to life at the Citadel, Ignis found himself in the role of not only counterpart and tutor to the heir of Lucis, but also custodian and sometime surrogate parent. Regis’ duty to his people kept him away from his son more often than not, and few others within the palace knew how to distract the prince from his separation anxiety toward his absentee father long enough for his tears to dry; learning to bake was a rather menial task for someone of Ignis’ shrewd acumen, but the cupcakes he managed not to burn put a smile on Noct’s face nonetheless.

As is to be expected, the experiences one is exposed to in life inevitably changes them; Noctis spent several months recovering in Tenebrae after an unfortunate encounter with a daemon, and upon his return the strategist noticed the beginnings of a brooding melancholy that would later be the prince’s most distinguishing facet. Ignis himself was fielding his own growing pains, as he found that the longing to reach out with empathy to his friend was in direct conflict with the sternness necessary to become an effective advisor. The hours they spent together as children reading fairytales and fables now comprised mostly of pouring over schoolwork and textbooks—the very last thing that appealed to Noct when his mind was on a place and a girl thousands of miles away—and the prince’s growing ennui toward his royal status and the palace at large only served to loosen the ties that once bound them so closely.

Perhaps there is simply something about living in close quarters with a person day in and day out for many years that results in one inevitably taking the other for granted; Noctis was as near and dear to Ignis as a brother, yet at times it felt they were as far apart as strangers. It didn’t help that the strategist’s well-intentioned but admittedly persistent prodding seemed only to drive the prince further away from him and into the company of newer, less authoritative friends; Ignis surmises that it made sense for Noct to want to surround himself with the likes of Prompto and Gladio, who were arguably more fun to be around than the stuffy royal chamberlain.

But the strategist had a job to do, and Regis had personally entrusted him with the responsibility of keeping close watch over his son in his absence, so he did what he could to stifle the growing tension between himself and his boyhood friend. Attempts at recreating the pastry the prince remembered fondly while recuperating in Tenebrae failed miserably; offering to transport Noct and an unworldly Prompto in the king’s Regalia to tour the city only resulted in him being left behind in the driver’s seat; Ignis even went so far as to enlist the services of Gladio to help him become better versed in the art of warfare—much as his intellect resisted the notion of taking up arms—in the interest of keeping up with Noctis’ budding magical prowess, but his efforts at proving the value of his assets fell on deaf ears.

There comes a time in every man’s life, the strategist concedes, that words inevitably fail and the only course of action when resolving a dilemma is to confront it with steel. Noct’s prickliness toward him had reached a tipping point, the viability of their friendship dangling by a quickly fraying thread, and he’d grown weary of the prince’s blatant disregard toward his father and royal responsibilities when he skipped out on numerous council meetings and trashed his apartment mere hours after Ignis had cleaned it. The moment of reckoning: midnight; the place: a sparring mat located inside the Citadel; the means: two identical sets of daggers.

Noct’s skills with a pair of crossblades was impressive for a sixteen-year-old, but if he’d been paying closer attention to the number of hours his royal steward was clocking in at the palace’s fitness center and not squandered his afternoons wading after elusive Lucian carp, he would have recognized the perfected reverse grip in the strategist’s hands. Still, the bout lasted longer than Ignis would’ve given credit for; by the end of it, the two teenagers were battered and bruised and drenched in their own sweat, the acrimony between them slowly ebbing as the airing of their mutual grievances lingered in both their ears.

Noct continued to trash his apartment at times in the aftermath of their row, and the pastries Ignis baked for him never did quite measure up to snuff, but the grudging sense of respect the strategist had garnered from the prince that night was undeniable. And as that esteem took firm hold, their original fondness for one another resumed; his old friend still chided him for his stuffiness, but his teasing was now laced with affection rather than animosity. Gladio and Prompto’s presence helped to fill in the gaps of the dynamic the strategist was unable to provide in its entirety, and a brotherhood was forged between the four men that would last a lifetime.

At least, one of their lifetimes. Because when the long night had descended upon Eos an eternity ago, a sacrifice was required from the gods in order for the sun to rise again; as he returns the photograph to its proper place on the dusty shelf in his apartment, Ignis remembers the blissful ignorance of his youth, remembers the faces of his companions when he still had the use of his eyes, remembers when the brotherhood had fractured and splintered and then resurrected itself like a phoenix in the ashes of eternal darkness. And he remembers the last words he had said to Noctis Lucis Caelem, his king, his majesty, his oldest friend, and wonders whether Noct ever knew the true depths of the strategist’s devotion.

As he blinks back the sudden welling in his occluded eye, Ignis whispers, “I should like to think that he did.”

[gaileon]

LITTLE CHARACTER THINGS

just a fun little character game. fill in the below categories with 3-5 things that your character can be identified by. repost & tag away!

TAGGED BY: @maidfaire & @holysight ( yOU TWO PROBABLY FORGOT YOU TAGGED ME FOR THIS SINCE I WAS SO SLOW BUT TY ANYHOW !! ) TAGGING: AM I FASHIONABLY LATE FOR THIS... regardless since there’s a whole new wave of muses that popped up !! @milaspriestess @faustiaen @devotedxheart @thmatrge @zappybubblegum ( ofc feel free to pass on this !! )

EMOTIONS / FEELINGS:

i. motivated. there is a passion, an ire, and a dream all in his heart that propels his feet forth. ii. uncertainty. with every step he takes, he feels not only farther away from home but from himself.  iii. yearning. surely there’s more to this provincial life, and he knows she waits somewhere-- just where? iv. love. he holds mila’s vice that has long been forgotten: he holds too much care and compassion for humans, so much so that he falls for them. v. betrayal. he thought he was on the right path, only to learn he was some pawn to fate.

GREETINGS:

i. a cordial smile. more fitting to a noble than a farmhand, surely. ii. a stern frown with an intense boom. he cuts straight to the chase, the air is thick, and he seeks truth. iii. a pair of wide eyes and a slightly agape mouth. he’s caught off guard, a terrible habit. iv. a pair of arms move forth. his special someone’s warmth is all he seeks before his mind can rationalize.

COLORS:

i. pine green. ii. crimson. iii. a faded many blue. iv. gaiden hair colors were never consistent to begin with.  v. black.

SCENTS:

i. this is the awkward moment where i confess that i basically have a near zero sense of smell. ii. if i ever mention scent in a thread or post, i’m 100% bullshitting it. iii. i wrote an entire 80 pages about a character who smelled of sandalwood and i still have no idea what that even means.

CLOTHING:

i. he dresses warmly. his body is used to colder temperatures than zofia has to offer. ii. blue laces his forehead; he feels empty without something there whether headband or tiara

OBJECTS:

i. celica’s amulet. a memento once passed down to her is passed down yet again. he will remember. ii. falchion. this sword comes with trials and tribulations, all covered in a tragedy. it blesses him in exchange for the curse he must take in for drawing it out. iii. mila’s turnwheel. the children of fate alone can receive messages from their divine mother. it is in his hands that time may be manipulated so as to save his friends from a fate yet unwound. iv. shield. offering protection, it only burdens him with its weight. there shall come a time where he shall cast it aside-- the moment of deliverance.

VICES / BAD HABITS:

i. naïve. where he believes in his heart, everyone tells him to heed his head. he lives in too far a black & white world to truly understand and make the right choices. ii. impressionable. he will never make the first choice on his own. he must be pushed forth before his passion amounts to anything. implant a goal in his mind and his feet shall take him miles lest he stay still for eons, wondering. iii. stubborn. he won’t listen to her, and it is only inevitable that he shall echo her words when everything is too late. iv. he is still a villager at heart. his tongue can learn some restraint, but it too seeks color and refuge in crass bluntness.

BODY LANGUAGE:

i. tall and proud. he stands higher than his height limits him to. ii. open and confident at first-- there is no room for self-doubt in one’s early steps. iii. closed fists close to his heart-- as he progresses, he grows unsure, and he cannot will himself to do the same reckless actions he had before.

AESTHETICS:

i. the frost of winter seems so familiar. the flurry of white does not remind him of famine but rather the little delicate snowflakes that dance on your tongue, granting pure bliss. ii. oranges. in abundance in his continent, they represent new beginnings: the core of his journey. within them is a simple happiness. iii. steel and silver. he was meant for a life of clashing blades, he was sure of it. there is no greater comfort to his senses than to fight. iv. the sky is endless. oh, how he wishes he could fly and find reprieve in escape beyond this small town. he was meant for something greater than this, and he cannot find it by staying idle.

SONGS:

i. DREAMS OF AN ABSOLUTION - Bentley Jones in the night light, do you still feel your pain? for the valor you waited, it never came if you were able, would you go change the past to mend a faux pas with one last chance? and i might know of our future but you still control the past

ii. FLOWERS - K.A.A.N. and i gotta find a source of innovation more inspiration, procrastination won’t save the masses the way i’ve been setting an example for you bastards no, i’m not bashful; time has been passing every single second devoted to my passion pray my dedication is never put in a casket

iii. ADULTIC - Gesu no Kiwami Otome and now that i think about it, everyone around me is so dull they’re pretending to be all grown up but they’re just holding their tongues it makes me so frustrated i’m supposed to just put up with it somehow i’d rather go out of my way to scream than to be called adultic

iv. NEVERLAND - Crywolf feat. Charity Lane stand up, child, and turn toward the lightning and thunder so i can see what i’ve known for all these years your skin shudders with my fingers you’re cold but i know it’s not your fault the storm is coming now, we can survive somehow

v. ORANGE JUICE - Zoozbuh i can’t get to sleep, my mind’s just too weak i can’t switch off all my memories i remember your sweet face and our embrace i’m lost without you here now i’m at a loss for what to do how can i be me without a you?

[ideahat-universe]

So it’s come to this. Unlike the Critic I don’t relish talking about Spoony because Spoony brought me so much entertainment. I am one of those users who feel really sad about Spoony’s downfall. I objectively liked him the most out of the Channel Awesome crew and I did indeed put up with his behavior which from the very beginning with his FF8 review I considered to be very bullish and caustic and no. I don’t believe that Lupa didn’t conspire with Scarlet. It’s a guarantee that she did. 

Scarlet was a dragon and not the good kind. What I want to know is what Lupa got out of it? Was it jealously? Does she not like Spoony’s style? Or is she a bitch? Well I don’t know those things for certain I do know that she’s basically unwatchable and is worse than Phelous who is so painfully fake in his videos that it hurts to even hear him emote for the camera. So for her to get one of the best users canned from Channel Awesome over what was a mundane comment from him that had nothing to do with her on a month old post is some incredible bullshit. I would just fume. 

I owe a lot to Spoony. The Ultima Saga is not only an amazing series that far outshines the final fantasy reviews but it’s a great work of philosophy (even the degradation it faces near the end of the series has some philosophical merit to it). 

You want to know how deep the rabbit holes go for me? I became a DnD player because of Spoony. I loved the Counter Monkey stories. My favorites are the Thief’s world two parter and the story about Tandem the Spoony’s run in with the Alice and Wonderland monsters. 

In the last year I found Roll20 and after a couple campaigns I have to be honest. I almost love it as much as video games. Maybe even more because I get to call all the shots, it’s just not as flashy. 

On top of that I turned the homebrew rules that I created for our games into applications so I and anyone that plays with me can have an easy way to create a character and just jump right in!

It’s a lot of fun and I wouldn’t have considered doing that if it wasn’t for him. It’s such a damn shame that he has walled himself off from the world and spends time ranting about Trump and cosplaying as his dog which I don’t think is okay. Dogs have their own personalities and identities. Pretending to be them is impersonation and it’s kind of creepy if you really go deep into the persona. 

Spoony is romanticizing his dog. Does that clear things up? 

Okay, so the old document I had about Spoony focused on what was starting to wear him out which was his own popularity as it so happens. I go into a deep dive on how fanbase are only a facilimie of an actual friend and if you can’t control or understand where the line is on a fanbase they can hurt you and while I don’t think that applies as much to Spoony as I thought I do believe it’s true for many other things *Cough*StevenUniverse!*Cough* I don’t believe it’s true for Spoony. I think at the end of the day we were actually too loyal to him but Spoony is an adult and should have figured out what his limits are. All he had to do was admit that he didn’t want to review final fantasy, he should have just admitted that he didn’t plan on making a movie, he should have just admitted that it’s too difficult to have a high production value for these silly reviews and do it all alone, and he should just admit that Miles made a mistake and you forgive him for that because he’s your brother and you love him. 

He could have if he was a better man. But he’s not. He never was and that’s the worst part. He put on shoes that he couldn’t fit and laced them around his ankles. He’s lost the strength to lift the heels and he’s stuck forever in that pair until the inevitable happens.....

Noah Antwiler and the Spoony experiment

So often do we strive for greatness. In the wake of the internet, thousands of people have done whatever they can to have the sort of popularity where the only glory you get is saying that people like you for something that in all honesty; isn't really that incredible an action. Animators toil on flash, artists churn out web comics and drawings, Musicians sing songs and play music, and writers write. All are endeavors that are worthwhile to expand upon and if the internet helps you then so be it. But the power of popularity is very dastardly despite the hordes of people who pine for it. Will you create for expression? Are you gunning for a contract to pay the bills and finance an expensive dream? Or are you just a regular person who had power thrust upon them and you have no way of handling it?

Power corrupts the weak and emboldens the wicked. And for some. It simply crushes them.  It seems like cowardice to be afraid of popularity or worried about how a community can control you but there’s an argument to be made for the tyranny of fandom. 

Fans are truly a neutral force. Without them you could very well be nothing. If you were interested in fame or fortune or even popularity you need them. They make you exist. And yet. They are the worst people to listen to and put your faith in. They will corrupt your mind with their desires. They will berate you for doing something they disapprove of. They will thrust change upon you while simultaneously disliking all that is different. It is odd. For these fans love you. Or at least. That is what they say. They do become attached to you. But they do not love you. As terrible as it sounds. What is a fan truly?

Fan: A person who has a strong interest in or admiration for a particular sport, art or entertainment form, or famous person.

That sounds endearing doesn't it? And yet it isn't really. It is very fickle and destructive. A few devoted fans are quaint and nice and you can acknowledge and like a few fans. But once the numbers become unruly and large fans devolve from individuals that like your work to an amorphous creature that wants to control you. It is two faced and wicked. Hurting you and then praising you in the same breath. Its words become emptier the larger it gets and it seems more thoughtless and monstrous as it progresses. It manages to fight itself over nothing and then take the fight to you regardless of its importance.

Considering oneself as a fan has become a taboo to the conservative and careful. But being a fan is nothing bad. However there is something to the admiration that I find is rarely established.

Love consumes. That sounds disturbing and a bit rude but it does in a way. When you love someone you take on a bit of them and they become a bit of you. Hopefully you will prosper from this and you will grow and be happier for it. But that is love between two people. What happens when you love a thing that is not real? That can never be a person? Madness. You will succumb to madness pure and simple. I do not mean that in some endearing farcical way in which you take pride for an aloof behavior. When you let an object consume you. You will lose yourself. It cannot truly give anything back to you. And you cannot truly give anything to it. The creators decide the fate of the creation and to them it is valuable and in some ways a boon to themselves and their minds. But for you it's just an object to be perceived. When you get caught up in something you cannot affect or control it warps you. You fight for its rights. You defend it against all competitors zealously. You get despondent with it while still feeling some attachment to it. You find yourself caring deeply for it. That is the nightmare of every artist. 

You have to be a powerful person to handle such a burden. Noah Antwiler is not powerful. He is a rather modest person. Not in personality. But the core of who he is isn't really someone who intends to have fans who think highly of him. Does he appreciate having fans? Yes but it's not love. Its tolerance and acceptance. He was just a simple YouTube reviewer who wanted to get into some riffing. Wrote articles here and there. He was just normal. He wasn't shaping to be anyone special and it was probably for the best. But popularity was thrust upon him. He became popular. And he was met at the crossroads. Make this work for him. Or refuse the call. He took the power and put the Spoony Experiment into full swing.

His attempts at collaborating and interacting with other reviewers show that he at least appreciates the virtues of networking. His work started out extremely modest but due to the desires to evolve and grow. He, acknowledging his inner artist and the call for power, expands the reviews and his technique. Granting them stories. Adding in skits. Becoming actor, writer, riffer, and reviewer all at once. It's something he enjoys doing. And yet. It seems to be eating him away. He wouldn't be the first person to suffer from turning an ability into a job. But I do not think Noah will last long like this.

I will come out and say it. This power was not meant for him. He cannot handle the demands. His body is weak and needs peace. The levels he has pushed himself for his craft, and the expectations of his fans and the demands they thrust upon him may make Noah's life very short. Don't get me wrong. I really enjoy Noah’s work. He brings me a lot of entertainment and laughter. But I care more about his well being and he isn't well. I'll get along just fine without the Spoony Experiment. But I’d hate to feel as if he pushed himself over the edge because I liked him a little too much for my own good.

It's his life though. Ultimately he can decide his own fate and we as fans can't really encourage him to do anything. It's not our right. To his friends and family Spoony is a person. But to us Spoony is no different than Sponge bob Square pants or Shrek. Just an object for which we show devotion through money and attention.

It's not worth it. The power isn't worth it. Let go of the power and seek peace. End the experiment and return to what you was before. It won't be a fantastic or glamorous life, but you may find happiness.

[kris10inger]

Preorder Open Wounds

AMAZON

AWWM | Adult Contemporary Romance

Kindle Unlimited For A Limited Time!

OPEN WOUNDS: ABEL & HOPE

 Missing Teal and Trent from Inevitable: Love & War? Check out Rogue in Love, the first of many standalones featuring Trent Reed's new employees!

A Love Against the Odds Novel

If you could see your life from inception to your death, would you change things or would you let your death play out as fate intended?

Abel is in search of only two things. A stable job and a safe place to lay his head at night after a mistake that cost him eighteen months of his life. As if fate had plans made only for him, Abel is offered a complicated job, and a chance to redeem himself to his old boss, from an old friend. And then he meets her… And Abel adds another item to his list—Hope.

At only twenty-six, Hope has only ever slept with one man, and at her boss’s unsolicited advice, Hope plans to forget the abuse and degradation she suffered at her husband's hand by seducing and bedding the next man she meets. Only, after Hope finds a promise of death at her doorstep, her plans are derailed and only chance at staying alive rests on the dedication of her new bodyguard and her own sheer will to live the life she deserves.

*Lightly Edited Preview*

        Hope curiously eyed the gaudy, purple and pink plastic engagement ring on Thea’s finger, as she held her hand up in the air. Her friend gazed lovingly at it while wiggling her fingers. Bright, adoring eyes met Hope’s as she gushed over the ring and continued the story of how Lex had proposed.

        “I’d given it to him as a gift, never once realizing he’d use it to ask me to marry him all these years later.” Thea sighed dramatically, as if she could barely continue without another squeal bubbling out. “He bent down on one knee, looked me in the eyes, and promised me forever.”

            Hope had zoned out halfway through the story. Not that Lex’s proposal hadn't been adorable and romantic, but she often found herself drowning in memories of the past whenever anyone brought up marriage. The idea was to leave the past in New York, but Hope found that hard to do with all the wedding talk and secrets she held inside. She smiled, but seeing the solemn look Thea gave her, she was sure it hadn't reached her eyes.

            “Oh, shit,” her best friend and boss said. “I keep forgetting that you—”

            “Stop right there.” Hope waved a dismissive hand at her words. “Don’t think for a second I am comparing this to my own life. You get to enjoy this. Lex is amazing, and nothing like Mark.” She crossed her arms over her chest in frustration. Hope had never meant to make her feel like she couldn’t talk openly, because Thea was the only person in her life who she could converse with candidly.

            Thea’s soft voice met her ears. “I know, but it’s like talking about getting pregnant around someone who can’t carry a child. You want to be excited, but you also don’t want to hurt their feelings.”

            “I know, and that puts a damper on your good news.” Hope shook off the sadness threatening to overwhelm her. “No more walking on egg shells around me.” Thea’s engagement was amazing news, and Hope was acting like a big-ass wet rag. She pushed back the agonizing memories and smiled again; this time, conveying her happiness for a friend who’d saved her ass. “Can we both agree to put my shitty past where it belongs? Way the hell behind us. Now, let me see this thing.”

Thea moved closer, placing the hideous ring out for her inspection. Seeing Hope’s reaction, her nose wrinkled and her forehead dipped. “I know, right?” Hope looked up to her. “Ugly as sin, isn’t it?”

Both women laughed at the truth because the ring was seriously fugly.

Thea took her hand back. “Maybe you should get out there and try the dating game again?”

Hope groaned inwardly. She didn’t want to hear the ‘just move on’ speech again. Because she had tried—with no success. After looking high and low, no matter who she ended up dating, she always found them to be . . . lacking. Unsure of whether it was her past, or her inability to trust, she found it painfully hard to even consider dating anymore.

“Hell, I say, the next man who walks through that door,” Thea turned to Hope with a calculating smile, “you ask on a date!”

            Hope’s eyes widened at the crazy idea. The possibility of her hitting up the next man to walk through the clinic’s front door was laughable. “No. I couldn’t possibly. You’re crazy. I don’t think—”

            “That’s right. Don’t think,” Thea spurred. “Just do.”

            Hope huffed, then saw something out of the corner of her eye. Turning to look at the door, she jolted in surprise. “Oh, for cripes’ sake.” Ms. Collis stood there, angrily banging on the door, leaving fist-sized smudge marks on the glass—a line of people standing impatiently behind her. Good thing Hope had painstakingly cleaned the doors the night before. “I think today is going to be one of those days. Is it a full moon?”

            Thea followed her gaze. “Oh, God help us.” Running to the door, she turned the locks and guided the woman behind Ms. Collis inside. As she passed the front desk, she elevated the woman’s bloody arm and whispered to Hope, “The next hot guy that isn’t dying . . . ask him out.” 

Hope’s face flushed with embarrassment.

            Behind her, a crowd of people entered, some looking as if they were drowning in snot, while others bled, or just appeared angry and annoyed. Regardless of the clientele, Hope loved her job. She’d always enjoyed the feeling of a good day’s work. In fact, the past six months at the clinic had been a way for Hope to temporarily ignore the past and focus on a possible future.

And in the beginning, Thea had been able to keep her employment hush-hush, paving the way for Hope to work without fear of one day looking up to find Mark, waiting for her. But now that employment papers were signed and turned in, Hope’s worrying increased with each passing day. She shuddered. The idea of Mark following her to Blackwater had become a waking nightmare and a monster under her bed to fear.

Pushing those feelings aside, she looked up and smiled at Ms. Collis, handing her a clipboard with documents attached. Seconds later, a biker in leather pants—crazy in this heat—a ripped and bloody shirt the size of a mountain pushed through the doors of the clinic, blood gushing from his nose. He favored his right side, and pressed his free hand to a wound seeping blood through the tattered shirt. Hope’s eyes travelled up and up the huge behemoth until her eyes met and connected with his unconcerned gaze.

Shaking herself from the shock of such a huge man, Hope pointed to the side door where the motorcycle club, or the MC, had claimed the waiting room as their own. Locals who weren’t affiliated with the gang, sat in the open waiting room to the right, while the MC took residence in the small room to the left. He nodded his head and made his way to the door.

            “Ma’am, if you could take a seat and fill this out, I’ll be right back,” Hope instructed. Ms. Collis was in to have her cast taken off. It wasn’t the least bit serious, so she would have to wait her turn as Hope triaged the more seriously injured. Hope made her way over to the bleeding man, who still hadn't opened the door to the waiting room.

            “Sir?” She came up behind him and he swiveled around to meet her gaze. Unfortunately, since Thea’s grandfather had ties with the MC before he passed, most of the gang came to her clinic when in need of medical help that didn’t require the coroner. At first, Hope had doubts, but when she got the text from Mark threatening her life if she didn’t return to his side in New York, Hope decided it wasn’t so bad if these huge, gun-toting men were there often.

            The man’s dark eyes flickered to the waiting room. “Didn’t want to get blood on the door.” His deep voice and heavy, Irish brogue caught her off guard. This man was new, or at least, had never been in the clinic while Hope was there. Since she worked five days a week, and twelve hours a day, she assumed he’d just been one of the lucky few in the MC to not have gotten stabbed recently.

            Hope glanced to his bloody hands and nodded. “Okay. Let me get that for you.” She went to open the door, when Lucy, the clinic’s receptionist, burst through the front doors, apologizing for being late as she headed to the counter. Now that she was at work, Hope could take him straight back and get him stitched up. “Actually, why don’t we have you come on back with me. We’ll see how serious these wounds are.”

He followed her to one of the rooms in the back. Hope hadn't bothered getting him to fill out any forms. The MC members never bothered with the patient information form, and always paid in cash. Hell, the clinic would probably go belly up without the money the men provided.

            Sliding a pair of purple gloves on her hands, Hope pointed to the paper-lined bed. “Have a seat.” Making her way to the cabinet, she found a pair of sterilized scissors. Routinely, Hope would ask the patient what happened, but when it came to these men, the fewer questions you asked, the better.

            “You have any allergies?”

            “No, ma’am.”

Hope was long past the initial shock of the MC members having manners. At first, she hadn't expected them to be polite, or for them to pay, but they did, and they weren’t raucous in the least. It was extraordinarily ironic that men who looked like beasts could be so composed and gentle, yet Mark, who normally wore a three-piece suit, could transform into the monster of her wildest nightmares.  

            After a quick assessment, she knew his side needed to be treated first. Asking him to lift his arm, she cut open his shirt and inspected the knife wound. Unfortunately, she’d dealt with stab wounds often, in her professional and personal life. His wound was shallow and not life threatening. A few stitches and he’d be fine. Then she could treat his nose.

            “I don’t need any stitches, doc.”

            Rolling her eyes for the second time today, she said, “Yes, you do and you are getting them.” Ignoring the growl emanating from his chest, she continued to clean the wound. At 5’5 and one-hundred-twenty pounds, Hope didn’t stand a chance against the mountain man, but she knew the first and most important thing to remember when dealing with the MC members. Never show weakness. Once you did that, your ass was grass. The men, while not complete assholes, would play on your fear. Find one sexy? Well, you’d most likely end up on your back.

          Hope didn’t have time for that shit. And while Mark had put the fear of God in her, Hope was resolute that not all men were created equal. On top of that, she and Thea, were off-limits to the members, per some scary man named Gator.

            “Piss and vinegar."  His laughter pulled her from her thoughts. “Well, doc . . .”

            “Not a doctor, just a nurse.” She winced at her words. She wasn’t just a nurse, and she regretted saying it like that. Doctors and nurses worked hand in hand, and Hope thought neither would be as effective without the other.

            “Well, nurse . . .” He ducked his head down blonde hair falling over his eyes, he pushed the strands away as he tried to read her name badge.

            “Hope,” she supplied, just as she stuck the first injection of lidocaine into his skin.

            “I’d rather you fuss with my nose,” he grunted. “My face is my money maker.”

            Hope couldn’t help but laugh. This man, while not ugly, would not be considered a model under any circumstances. His face held a crooked nose, dark eyes, and wide-set lips. Maybe he could model tactic wear for the military?

            She glanced up as coal-colored eyes shined with mirth. “Oh really? And here I thought it was your great fashion sense.” Hope plucked at the bloodied Foreigner shirt.

          Glancing down, the huge man smiled. “Yeah, that too.”

          Shaking her head, she set up her equipment and got to work. The man, who she later found out was called Spooky, asked her out a few times before realizing it wasn’t going to happen. Mark had been persistent as well. He’d asked her out a total of twenty-two times, before she’d broken down and finally said yes. Back then, she hadn't known it was a sign of systemic hostility; she’d been naïve enough to consider it charming that a man like Mark would be do persistent in wanting to get to know her.

         Hope finished up with Spooky’s stitches and nose and sent him on his way. After cleaning up the room, she headed back out to see Lucy wrestling a line out the door. Being the only low-income clinic in Blackwater had the entire staff working twelve-hour days. Hope jumped into the madness until the line dwindled, and the sun was no longer in the sky.

         Heading home that night, she huffed up the flight of stairs leading to her home, and froze when she made it to the top of the landing. There, in front of her door, sat a blue and white package. Her heart jumped in her throat, heaving her into the past.

       After every beating, he’d sent her the very same Tiffany-colored box. On one particularly horrific evening, Mark had broken her ring finger, then rewarded her with a three-carat diamond, and a card stating, When that nasty mistake heals, you can wear this.

      Hope opened her eyes, confused as to when she’d shut them. With trembling fingers, she opened the box. Inside was a diamond-studded choker. Beautiful, white diamonds sparkled in a straight line, surrounded by blood-red rubies, in a platinum setting. Covering her mouth, Hope held in a strangled sob. She didn’t want to leave Blackwater, but once again he’d found her.

     Mark’s face flashed in her mind and Hope had the sudden urge to run. Instead, she reached into her purse and pulled out the Glock Thea had made her buy. Scanning the area, she didn’t find anything out of place. How had he tracked her down? She’d been so careful.

     It has to be my new employment status. Thea had been paying her under the table, but the clinic received government funds, and in the long run, it could have hurt Thea’s clinic. So, Hope had made things right and her official paperwork was turned in.

     Hope turned back to go inside and noticed a note tucked inside her door. She pulled it out and flipped the card open.

 I’ll give you to the count of three to come back home to me.

ONE.