#the people they��re closest to probably don’t even realize how much they’re being lied to

[seducing-a-vampire]

ON BEING HONEST AND WHY I THINK SIMON WILL BE THE FIRST TO SAY “I LOVE YOU”

Two things sparked this meta:

Baz yelling “you’re so beautiful” to Simon, but Simon not hearing it— the moment that lives rent-free in my head 24/7

Rainbow’s recent Fall for the Book interview, when she said that she thinks that Baz is “settling for Simon” in Wayward Son

Here’s something we all know: our guys really suck at saying nice things out loud to each other. For two people are constantly thinking nauseatingly sweet and loving things about each other, they almost never actually verbalize them. 

I ended up going through a lot of quotes and tracking some of the nice things that they actually do say to each other, and I’ll offer some very  r a m b l i n g  thoughts on what I think Simon and Baz’s respective paths indicate for AWTWB. 

I was interested in the intersection of when Simon and Baz are being honest to each other (aka saying some of the nice things that they’re always thinking) with when Simon and Baz are being honest about themselves (aka self-acceptance).

TL;DR, my prediction for their path through honesty is:

Simon’s self-acceptance (which starts at the end of WS)

Simon’s honesty to Baz re: love

Baz’s honesty to Simon re: love

Baz’s self acceptance

**Below the cut because it got super long, yikes**

Phase 1: Simon being nice/honest in CO

The first nice-ish interaction between Simon and Baz in Carry On is when Simon follows Baz up to the Mage’s office, and they find Baz’s baby photo:

“Here,” [Simon] says softly, holding it out to me. “I’m… sorry.” (204)

Simon tones down his initial hostility in this scene after he sees the photo. This moment, along with Natasha’s visitation, catalyzes a real change in how Simon views Baz, and it’s indicative of the larger shift (vulnerability → Simon seeing Baz as more than his enemy → Baz wearing jeans → oops I love him). This trajectory continues during their truce-- there are still a few moments of hostility, but honestly on the whole, Simon is pretty nice to Baz:

“You don’t want to hurt me,” I say, trying to push him back. “Isn’t that right? I’m sorry. Look at me, I’m sorry.” (210)

“I’ll help you,” he says (217)

“Baz,” I yell. “No! You’re flammable!” (238)

All of this culminates in the kisses in the forest, and Simon says a few more nice and affirming things around that point:

“They say your soul dies.”   “That’s tosh,” he says. (300)

“You’re not a monster,” I say. His face is cold as a corpse in my hand. “I was wrong. All those years. You’re a bully. And a snob. And a complete arsehold. But you’re not one of them.” (339)

“I won’t,” I say. I’ve never turned my back on you. And I’m not starting now.” (340)

Something that stood out to me after reviewing these moments is that Simon’s shift from enemies to lovers is actually pretty linear. As he learns more about Baz during their truce and they grow closer, Simon hates Baz less and consequently says nicer things to him, until he ultimately realizes he doesn’t hate Baz at all, so he kisses him and asks him to be his boyfriend. Weirdly logical behavior for someone so thick. Simon is being pretty open and honest, and this makes sense because Simon understands himself pretty well at this point. His big crisis of character comes in the next book. 

The thing is, at this point in Carry On, Baz has not said a single nice thing to Simon. The closest you could get is when he asks Simon to come to his house for Christmas, which is a great moment but is quickly muddled by their ensuing fight. 

(awesome thoughts about that moment here)

Baz has acted nicely, but he has remained sarcastic and aloof even after Simon kisses him. 

We get a few compliments of Simon’s power:

“You have to stop doing that.”  

“What?”

“Godlike displays of magic.” (348)

“You’re the most powerful magician alive-- who’s ever lived, probably.” (355)

I won’t repeat @super-duper-twelve’s brilliant meta on this, but this category of compliment is not ultimately that useful for their general communication.

Simon keeps pushing, despite the cold walls Baz tries to put up, and he asks Baz to be his “terrible boyfriend.” Honestly, it astounds me how much confidence Simon must’ve had to just shoot his shot there, because Baz was not giving him a ton of reason to think he’d go for it. Me as simon would’ve definitely been like: ok cool, nice kiss, he definitely still hates me though.

Phase 2: Baz being nice/honest

I want to be clear: it’s perfectly understandable why Baz, a flawed fictional character, is not nice to Simon. His trajectory from enemies to lovers is completely different, because he’s spent years loving Simon while acting like his enemy. He’s had great practice at that, and it’s the most relatable thing ever that he is afraid of getting hurt when he’s believed Simon to be an impossible dream for so long. This is also understandable when viewed through the lens of self-acceptance because huge facets of Baz’s identity are constantly being covered up and ignored by himself or by the people close to him (vampire, gay). He knows himself, sure, but he’s a very long way from self-acceptance.

Anyway, Baz does actually agree to be Simon’s boyfriend, and we get a couple of honest Nice Things that they say to each other during that brief period.

Unfortunately, this mutual honesty/niceness is incredibly short lived, because everything changes quickly after this: Humdrum, Mage, Ebb, etc. Simon’s world falls apart, and Baz is there to comfort him, affirm him, and (finally) be honest and nice. Their whole dynamic turns on its head. 

“You did it, didn’t you?” Baz whispers. “You defeated the Humdrum. You saved the day, you courageous fuck. You absolute nightmare.” (491)

“It’s going to be okay… it’s all right, love.” (492)

“You were the centre of my universe,” I say. “Everything else spun around you.” (506)

“Looking at you was like looking directly into the sun.” (507)

“You’re still Simon Snow. You’re still the hero of this story--” (507)

“It was brave. It was brave and selfless and clever. That’s who you are, Simon. And I’m not going to get bored with you.” (507)

“I choose you,” I say. “Simon Snow, I choose you.” (508)

To summarize and possibly oversimplify:

Up until the night of the Mage and Ebb’s death, Simon was the one pushing forward, being honest, and looking to break down the boundaries and walls between them. 

After that point, Baz finally feels ready to be all in with Simon, and Simon retreats inward. 

Phase 3: Wayward Son

We see this dynamic play out in Wayward Son, with almost no change throughout the whole book. Right from the very first chapter, Simon is thinking:

“Everything that happened with the Mage and the Hum-drum just made Baz more of who he was meant to be… He proved himself as a man and a magician. He proved himself right: The Mage really was evil! And I really was a fraud—’the worst Chosen One who’s ever been chosen,’ just like Baz used to say. He was right about me all along. “ (8)

I think it’s really notable that Simon can use his boyfriend’s words to justify his own worst self-doubts and self-loathings, because it indicates the consequences of them spending way more time insulting each other than ever being honest and affirming.

In Wayward Son, tender and honest moments between Simon and Baz are few and far between and mostly in the form of post-battle kisses. The only real communication that we see between them comes in flashbacks, wherein we see how much Simon has pulled back from Baz (the descriptions of his reaction to physical intimacy being one example of this). 

Even when Baz says nice things to Simon and affirms him, Simon’s presumed depression largely keeps him from believing and internalizing those things (through no real fault of either person. Again, very understandable ways for both of these flawed characters with traumatic pasts to behave!!!!!). Baz yells, “you’re so beautiful” to Simon, and he doesn’t even hear him (a gutting moment that I consider indicative of the general dynamic between them throughout the book).

Now, we get to Rainbow’s comments about Baz “settling for Simon.” I feel this. Simon is pushing Baz away and giving Baz basically nothing, and that is not a healthy dynamic. Baz is going through his own crap and self-doubt and self-acceptance, and Simon is not there for him apart from fits of jealous rage. As we learned in Carry On, it takes a lot for Baz to even feel remotely comfortable expressing his feelings for Simon, and with many months lacking that, it starts to wilt. 

What’s next: Prologue and AWTWB

Of course, the moment of truest communication in the second book comes at the very end:

“Why can’t you just admit that you’d be happier here?” “Why can’t you see that I wouldn't be happier anywhere without you?” (353)

I think the key to understanding what might come after this agonizing moment lies with Simon’s thoughts as he sits alone on the beach.

Before Baz arrives, Simon’s not thinking about his boyfriend. He’s thinking about himself. He’s contemplating his role in the World of Mage’s (hello, synopsis for AWTWB), and he’s taking a good, long look in the mirror. He’s starting to be honest about himself and accept himself (not perfectly, and I think this imperfect acceptance is reflected in his expressed desire to get rid of his wings, but he’s getting there). 

When Simon talks about Baz staying in America and being happy, Simon is not closing himself up and pushing Baz away, which he had done for so long and which caused so much miscommunication up to this point. Rather, this is a moment of true honesty on Simon’s part. 

Baz does need to learn more about himself and his vampirism. Simon recognizes this about Baz, just as Simon is trying to understand himself, too. In this moment, Simon is being true and vulnerable and speaking from a place of love. Baz refuses to self-reflect honestly and understand the truth in what Simon is saying, instead clinging to his love for Simon (without actually verbalizing that love). Throughout WS, Baz makes very stunted progress (see: his floral clothing as symbolism, being able to retract his fangs, meeting other vampires and learning about immortality and all that fun stuff), but in the end he doesn’t let himself actually think about that in any real way. Despite what Simon says, Baz has not yet “become more of who he was meant to be.” 

Importantly, this is in the “Prologue,” the beginning of the next phase in their healing and their relationship. As the balance shifts, this could be the beginning of real communication, but Simon needs to take the next step. At the end of WS, Baz is the one holding back. Baz isn’t able to accept himself honestly, so he won’t be able to fully let Simon in, either. 

Until Simon says “I love you,” they won’t get anywhere in their relationship. Simon needs to say it first, he needs to be vulnerable and honest in a way that he hasn’t been since before the Mage’s death, and Baz needs to understand those feelings in order to fully express his own. Then, I see Simon’s fully expressed love and support as a catalyst for Baz’s final self-acceptance. 

I think Simon will be unable to fully express his love for Baz until he has understood and accepted himself. However, Baz will continue to prioritize Simon/love over his own self-acceptance until either (A) Simon and Baz break up, or (B) Baz finally has confidence and security in their relationship because Simon has broken down the barriers of honesty and said “I love you.” Simon needing to say “I love you” first also gets at the idea of Simon needing to become someone that Baz deserves (per Rainbow’s words). 

So, I predict this as their path through honesty:

Simon’s self-acceptance (which starts at the end of WS)

Simon’s honesty to Baz re: love

Baz’s honesty to Simon re: love

Baz’s self acceptance

And then they will live happily ever after. The end.

*** Please let me know what you think and if this makes any sense!! ***

[prince-of-elsinore]

More reasons to enjoy Season 12

Part 2 to this post

These are just my (mostly) not too serious thoughts on things I enjoyed about season 12 (which believe me, I do have criticism of, but not for this post) now that I have finished my re-watch of it.

- they unfridged the original fridged woman. bold move, good course correction

- Mick as a foil to Sam, Ketch as a foil to Dean. That's all. 

- it's goddamn refreshing to have Sam and Dean on the same page most of the time! Like in 12x15 Somewhere Between Heaven and Hell, Sam has been keeping the secret that he's working with the BMOL. But the secret only lasts one episode, and when Sam realizes he needs to come clean, Dean doesn't blow up at him. Sam being honest and Dean being accepting of Sam's decision: both evidence of growth! And in 15x20 The Future, they're on the same page about not wanting to let Cass go with Kelly. They both think he's been brainwashed (b/c that is definitely what it looks like). I just like seeing them agree on stuff, ok?

- Sam embracing his life and feeling comfortable with himself!! I see this season as a turning point, especially for Sam. I don't believe he's simply been brow-beaten into accepting a life he hates; I think he's consciously choosing to embrace the good of what he does and to take pride in it. His relationship with hunting will never be the same as Dean's, but, like I said: they're on the same page. As he tells Mary in 12x14 The Raid--"I chose this life." This is mostly due to choosing Dean, more than choosing hunting, but in any case, it is a conscious choice and Sam is making the one that is worth it to him, the choice that brings him fulfillment. And he even sees new worth in hunting itself, in a way that is very much in line with his character, as he expresses in 12x18 The Memory Remains (which I talk about more here).

- and that newfound confidence and comfort with who he is allows Sam to take a huge step in 12x22 Who We Are. I was so proud of him when he says "I called you here" instead of "We called you here." Sam has always had an independent streak, and he's stepping out from Dean's shadow in a healthy way here. He's allowing himself to be an individual agent. I always felt that in the end, he needed something of his own to be fulfilled, more than hunting with Dean--either a mentorship or leadership position (both of which he gets in the late seasons). This is his first step towards that, and he's so capable of it! He is a badass and he leads the hunters to victory over the BMOL on his own. 

- and Dean lets him!! This is a huge step for Dean too! Of course he's still worried about Sam (the "you come back" gets me every time), but he's not insisting on being there to protect him. He believes in Sam. He tells Sam he's ready for this, and when Sam hears it from Dean, he knows it's true. They need each other, but here we're seeing need of a healthier type--the way no one is an island, and we all need the love and support of our friends/family. They offer each other that, and it gives them the strength they need. I was so proud of Dean in that moment.

- ALSO so proud of Dean for, for once, acknowledging his own needs. Trying to save Mary is the right task for Dean--he'll never give up on family. But in the process, he speaks some truths that needed speaking. Admitting that he was set up to fail in raising Sam, that his whole life has been so unfair. Letting himself feel resentment towards the family whose hold is so tight on him. But, at the end of the day, still choosing love. "I hate you. And I love you. 'Cause I can't – I can't help it. You're my Mom. And I understand... 'cause I have made deals to save the ones I love more than once." Dean understands better than anyone that sometimes love causes harm, but it's still love and who can blame a person who acts out of love? And the thing is, love can also redeem. And here, Mary and Dean, both of whom have made some terrible choices in the name of love, find their way back to each other through love. Dean gives Mary the forgiveness he seeks for himself. This is Dean at his best.

- and even Sam gets in on the action. He, too, chooses love, and forgiveness. The family hug at the end of Who We Are is EVERYTHING.

- ok Who We Are isn't the only good episode so I'm gonna backtrack to talk about some others, like 12x11 Regarding Dean--it's funny! It's sad! Carrying on a great spn tradition of episodes like Mystery Spot and Yellow Fever. The sticky notes are wonderful. Sam knowing Dean well enough to leave them in the trunk of the Impala, with a big "NO" over the grenade launcher. Dean holding up "Witch Killing Bullets" without saying a word. Pointing his gun in confusion at Sam, who yells and points, "Brother! Witch!" :)

- 12x12 Stuck in the Middle (With You)—who doesn’t love a Tarantino tribute? (Having just watched Kill Bill, I can certainly say I love it). And the return of the Colt! Crowley's "It’s amazing what some people just leave laying about." Snark king.

- 12x13 Family Feud—I want to write a longer meta about the theme of family and love and sacrifice in this episode, so I won't go into it here. But another nice thing is how united the brothers are in their anger when Mary reveals she's been working with the BMOL. It's the closest we get to addressing Sam's torture and violation at the beginning of the season. I get the feeling Dean isn't so angry b/c of what Lady Bevell did to him, but b/c of what she did to Sam, which makes me think he knows it was bad, and Dean supported Sam in whatever he needed after that, whether it was talking about it or just giving some space, etc. Love some defensive big brother Dean.

- 12x14 The Raid—Actually a pretty tense action episode. And Mick is cool.

- 12x16 Ladies Drink Free—The Mick team-up is fun (I like changing up the dynamics), as is seeing them stay in a 3 star hotel lol. Dean has some good moments that highlight his growth, too. His "I used to think the same thing, too" to Mick, as if it weren't already obvious that he's taken "saving people" more to heart than "hunting things." He's done a lot of work to evolve beyond who he was with the Mark of Cain and even before. He also makes it perfectly clear what he thinks of guys skeeving on underage girls, and it's nice the writers finally emphasize that Dean does not like that behavior. He's past the point in his life where he'd make a joke about cheerleaders being legal (back in season 4. Quick digression: that's definitely a gross thing to say, but I always saw it as performative more than a declaration of intent. He puts on what he thinks macho guys would say. Not that Dean doesn't oggle what he likes, but one thing has always been very clear to me about Dean--he's a fan of enthusiastic consent. Anyway this should probably be a longer post b/c I could talk about Dean and performative masculinity and sexual attraction ad nauseam so I'll leave it there)

- 12x18 The Memory Remains—I've already gone over in my previous meta what this ep says about legacy, but there are other fun things about it. Like a Goat-headed monster! Man, how long has it been since the bros took on an urban legend like this? Like... any since freakin' Bloody Mary? Also Dean being cool with the kid smoking weed. You just know he likes to light up sometimes. Man, I need more weed-smoking Dean in my life

- 12x20 Twigs and Twine and Tasha Banes--this is a good fuckin ep. Finally, someone else on this goddamn show is allowed to be as codependent and unwise as Sam and Dean, and isn't punished for it. Let Max keep his wood-puppet sister! (Wow I KNOW it's really fucked up b/c I guess he can control her, too, but damn if it isn't fascinating. And sad. I hope they figure out some way to restore her autonomy) I stan two (2) codependent witch twins

- 12x21 Something About Mary--I'm a sucker for the silent communication and flawless telepathy as Sam and Dean find the bug and lay the trap for the BMOL. And that letter from Eileen :C (Even if her thing with Sam leaves me cold, I'm glad she got to come back to life b/c she sure didn't deserve to go like that)

- Ok one more thing about Who We Are--I'm a sucker for the angst of them thinking they're gonna die trapped in the bunker. And then Dean comes through with the grenade launcher, AND gets out the hole before it caves in. BAMF. I love that they saved themselves rather than some deus ex machina. No Supernatural interference necessary. Not even any deals with reapers, etc.

- I lied, one MORE thing about Who We Are--Sam doesn't take the bad deal Hess offers him (to help with Lucifer)! Once upon a time, I believe that Sam would have been so scared that he'd take the deal with the snake, masking his fear and foolishness as pragmatism. But he knows his own worth now. He knows he doesn't need the BMOL, terrified as he is.

- Finally, it was sad to say goodbye to Crowley in the finale, but it was a worthy end. You'll be missed, Fergus MacLeod.

[malpractiice]

MOTIVES ARE RARELY UNSELFISH. ╱ HEADCANON

     good and bad are terms that avery deems largely - if not entirely - redundant. in her eyes, they’re words with no concrete definitions, defined only by whatever the majority of society believes to be acceptable or unacceptable simply because the majority believes it, not based on any concrete, quantifiable information. nothing irritates her more than “good”, “bad”, or “evil” being thrown around as if any human being has the objectivity and omniscience to make that kind of a moral judgement with any degree of accuracy.

     that does not, however, mean that she has no morals of her own. her lack of belief in a traditional good and bad, right and wrong mindset doesn’t stop her from evaluating behaviours and motivations, both her own and those of others, based on some kind of ethical criteria. she believes that traditional morality is flawed only because there’s no objective, definable basis for it, and that no human being is qualified to decide what is or isn’t right - instead, she simply prefers to reduce morality to a measurable, demonstrable cost-benefit analysis.

     what it comes down to, in her opinion, is selfishness versus selflessness. she’s very much of the belief that humanity is fundamentally selfish, and that every decision a person makes is made, in one way or another, to benefit themselves. after all, even selfless acts that benefit others still make the individual doing them feel pleasure, satisfaction, vindication, and that’s usually if not always one of the reasons they do it. this is not to say that she believes that people, summarily, can’t be selfless, but rather that people can’t be purely selfless. which brings me back to the cost-benefit analysis.

     if “true selflessness” can’t be achieved, then the closest thing to it, to avery, is an action that’s more selfless than it is selfish. and this is, effectively, the basis on which she judges morality. every decision, for avery, is subjected to two cost-benefit analyses: one for herself, and one for the other party or parties that are affected. if the cost to herself is higher than the benefit, she considers it negative. if the cost and benefit are equal, she considers it neutral. if the cost is lower than the benefit, she considers it positive. this is, of course, also the case for the other person’s analysis. so, essentially, this very well-adjusted, functional woman can reduce her entire moral compass of decision-making to the following three charts.

     in summary, it can be effectively translated to mean the following:

if an action benefits her more than it costs her and costs someone else more than it benefits them, it’s morally bad.

if an action doesn’t affect her (neutral) and costs someone else more than it benefits them, it’s morally bad.

if an action doesn’t affect her either party, it’s morally fine.

if an action costs both parties more than it benefits them, it sucks, but is morally fine.

if an action benefits both parties more than it costs them, it’s morally fine.

if an action benefits her and doesn’t affect someone else, it’s morally fine.

if an action doesn’t affect her but benefits someone else, it’s morally good.

if an action costs her more than it benefits her and doesn’t affect someone else, it sucks, but is probably morally good.

if an action costs her more than it benefits her and benefits someone else more than it costs them, it’s morally good.

     now, in and of itself, this thinking is logically sound. the problem lies with the fact that her reliance on this system when making decisions is completely self-serving. if she analyzes every choice she makes based on this system, the conclusion that she comes to will ultimately be selfish no matter what it is, because the reason she makes that decision isn’t because she wants to, or is empathetic or caring or good, but because it makes the most sense while also allowing her the maximum amount of guiltless sleep at night. almost nothing avery does is good for the sake of being good, but is good because she has deliberately assessed that it being good is the most feasible and morally acceptable option. she, however, does not see that in any way, shape, or form, and thoroughly believes that so long as the majority of her decisions are morally neutral or good, that means that she’s a decent human being. she does not understand that if the only reason she’s making those neutral or good decisions is to balance out the bad ones so that she can hate herself less, it largely negates any form of selflessness the action could’ve had. she’s not doing it because she wants to, but because she thinks she should.

     all of that can be traced back to the fact that she believes that what defines a person isn’t their reactions, but their actions. because she believes that everyone is fundamentally selfish, she also believes that everyone’s first reaction to a situation, problem, or opportunity is going to be self-serving at best and morally reprehensible at worst. it’s how they choose to respond to those reactions that does define them as people, because they can’t control how they instinctively react, but they can control the decisions they make as a result. thinking a terrible thing about someone doesn’t mean you’re terrible so long as you correct it and don’t express it. having a violent impulse doesn’t make you a violent person so long as you choose not to act on it. wanting to eviscerate your coworker for drinking the last cup of coffee doesn’t make you a bad person so long as you don’t do it. and while there is, i suppose, some validity to this, the problem is that in some combination of a lack of empathy and a desire to feel better about herself, avery fails to see that not everyone actually has the same base level of reaction that would render her “only as bad as everyone else is”. she subconsciously chooses not to acknowledge that most people wouldn’t have the types of reactions that she has, and that most people wouldn’t only hold themselves back from indulging them because their internal analysis would leave them feeling morally bad and subsequently guilty.

     what it comes down to is that truly, and on a level most others would - contrary to her belief - not share, every single decision avery makes is vastly more selfish than she realizes. in fairness, she doesn’t believe herself to be morally good, nor does she even aim to have the majority of her decisions fall into that category: she doesn’t see anything wrong with being primarily self-interested if there’s no cost to others, as she expects that from everyone around her and therefore justifies it in herself. she just wants to avoid being morally bad. the factor she fails to acknowledge is that while many of the decisions she wants to make are morally bad whether she acts on them or not, almost none of the decisions she wants to make are morally good. if she weren’t concerned with guilt or feeling like she’s not an absolute monster, the majority of the decisions she would be inclined to make on the basis of desire alone would be morally terrible, and the only reason she actively chooses to make the good ones is to balance out the bad ones. as penance, not as generosity. if she had more empathy or self-awareness, she might realize that fundamentally, she is the farthest thing from good even by her own system’s standards - but fortunately for her mental health, empathy and self-awareness are not her strong suits.

[phanlight]

Imagine Living Like a King Someday

prompt: Southview Boarding School isn’t a castle and Phil Lester isn’t royalty, but he has everything. His father owns the school, he’s popular, has the best room, gets all the best treatment – there are very few things that aren’t handed to him on a platter. Dan is a cleaner/Phil’s personal maid there, and he isn’t as lucky. Everyone seems to take an aversion to the outsider, including Phil (at first).

[CHAPTER MASTERPOST]

me thinkin i’d cleared this fic up w the last chapter til i re-read a bunch of it and HOOOOO BOI why was i so obsessed with plot twists without the fkin plot

I am determined to make this all add up and work together but it may take a few chapters also I still have no idea how this is going to end LOL

[ao3 link]

Southview owns a lot of land.

It spreads out in blanketed acres of green, field upon forest upon meadow; miles of emerald patchwork. The building itself, founded somewhere in the fourteenth century apparently, makes up only a fraction of the private greenery Phil has been calling home for the past decade.

Habitatually speaking, it’s impressive. To be able to call such rich halls, such polished corridors and winding mahogany stairs, ever spiraling further and further below his house, his own dwelling; is something he struggles to grasp. He supposes every other student currently residing here may find some relation to a certain degree – but to look at a winding cobbled path and every single brick completing every wall, to name the clock tower chiming every high-clouded noon into existence anything remotely of an heirloom – isn’t anything his soul will allow him to process. He doesn’t see it changing anytime soon.

He stares at the wall-to-wall bookshelves lining every corridor brimming with ancient knowledge, medieval tales and just about every participle of the literary canon. There are strict rules against removing any books from their respective shelves with dire consequences if unobliged (absolutely ridiculous, Phil thinks – who in their right mind would consider reading a punishable offence? They’re there to be read.) He and Dan had taken it upon themselves to create a discreet enough rule-breaking method; choosing the dead of night to tiptoe through long, hallowed corridors devoid of light and sound and people and life, all whispers and giggles and cold interlocked fingers, sleepy eyes scanning fraying ladders of spines, whispered-yet-echoey assessments over which would be least missed for however many hours.

The candles up above, though only illuminated during the seasonal months, drip hardened wax onto the stone walls covering every inch of interior; something he otherwise never would have seen anywhere else in this time, let alone place. The beams hang dark and gnarled, curving across every roof with chapel-like grace.

He’s lucky, and he knows it.

Why, then, does he feel like a bird in a cage? Why can he sense the wings, feathered promises of freedom, hit against iron bars whenever he outstretches? This place is becoming too small, he decides. Seven years walking the same grounds, with the same windows and the same views no matter how creative he gets with his detours. The same faces, same conversations with all the same values; with only sporadic weeks of the outside world in between.

He wonders what he would have done had Dan not entered the scene. Wherever the place in his mind, he knows madness would reside. He only feels a breath away from it now.

He blames it on his surroundings, pushing down the rise of unease that jumps through his stomach. It’s got to be that.

::

It doesn’t subside.

“Are you okay?” he hears a voice soften beside him. 

He can’t lie. Not to Dan.

He shuts his eyes and realizes he’s been staring at that Oscar Wilde painting for way too long. The afterimage burns his retina in every shade of negative. His hair deep black on canvas now chalk white behind the eyelids. His eyes look like caves.

“I don’t know,” is the closest to the truth he can get. “I feel weird.”

Dan’s entire stance changes. Concern floods his eyes and he’s suddenly upright

“Why? What’s up?”

“I don’t-…” he shakes his head in defeat.  “I really don’t know. That’s why I’m so-…” his racing mind interrupts him. So what? So comfortable, yet so ill at ease? It makes no sense. 

This should be bliss. Curled up on a beanbag with his favourite person somewhere on the third floor of the library behind a wooden disguise of bookshelves and tall tables. Their ‘spot’ lies in a convenient nook no other soul seems to have yet discovered – a definite perk of being the son of the owner is having premium, extensive knowledge of every single crack and avenue this place has to offer; surveillance included.

That’s how the undercroft became a meeting point in the first place, Phil suddenly remembers as his stomach falls through three stone library floors.

It was him.

He had come up with the idea. He had planned the safest night-time route, locating every surveillance camera and possible risky window. And he, funnily enough, was the one who had spent an hour talking the three of them into it to begin with – if he strains his mind far back enough he can recall even Liam having doubts. Many of them, actually.

“Come on,” a harsher, younger and definitely more obnoxious version of himself had urged.

“No way,” Liam was the first to say. Freddie and Violet hadn’t been overly keen, but it was Liam who was adamant.

He feels sicker.

“What’s bothering you?” Dan closes the book they were giggling at no longer than forty seconds ago and turns his attention completely to him.

His heart is thudding now. He hasn’t given any of that any thought whatsoever since it happened; all anxiety surrounding the situation having been newly dissipated by evenings of laughter and love and-

Had it been dissipated? Or merely masked? Ignorance by will or by proxy?

“Phil?”

Had he spent all these passing months pointing fingers, dodging the blame, deflecting everything like a house of mirrors when this whole thing, this entire time, had actually been his fault?

He snaps out of himself and realizes it’s Emily Dickinson now burning behind the eyelids.

It’s too much. Even the oil portraits, beautiful as they are (and original too, allegedly), are all the same faces. It’s all the fucking same.

“We need to get out of here.”

Dan frowns. “Huh?”

“We need to get out of here,” he repeats, and stands up immediately. The book that was on his lap catapults to the floor, landing outstretched in a papery mess.

“Wait-“ Dan scrabbles around behind him, rescuing the book and smoothing out the newly crumpled pages. His own expression creases a little with the paper.

Phil doesn’t. He can’t. His vision is a tunnel and it’s only blind panic propelling him forward, past shelves and students and voices he can only barely decipher. Every cell in his body, every single drop of blood and beat of his heart is drilling the same message into his mind.

Get out.

It’s only until he feels the slap of winter air against his damp forehead he realizes he’s outside. He stops sweating and starts shivering, clutching the corner of the stone wall as if gravity be seconds away from disappearing and flinging him into the night sky.

His chest feels like lead. Each breath comes heavy, deep; never quite enough despite each gasp filling up his lungs like he’s drowning on air alone. His stomach feels like someone has clawed it out with blunt, bare fingers.

The huge door flaps open and a tiny figure runs out.

He can barely see. His vision still exists in blobs and grains, like someone turned up the contrast too much but also turned it right down completely. What’s happening to him?

“I’m sorr-“ he gasps, but Dan hushes him.

“Focus on your breath,” his voice is calm but firm. He’s unaware of the soft grip on either shoulder until he sees two arms outstretched in front of him.

Phil tries to, but each gasp gets stuck in his throat.

“In through the nose, out through the mouth,” Dan guides him, demonstrating. Each breath seems so smooth, so calculated. Phil doesn’t want to think how often he’s had to do this.

His heart is still hammering, but he manages to comply.

“Imagine you’re blowing on a candle,” Dan continues. “But don’t blow it out.” 

It’s a challenge to focus when his mind is running one million mines a minute, but Phil shuts his eyes and eventually the swirling grain begins to subside. He’s still breathing way too hard and it’s probably enough to blow out a ninety-seventh birthday cake, but Dan’s encouragement doesn’t waver.

“You’re getting there,” he says, giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze before dropping his grip completely. “Are you okay with that, by the way?” he gestures toward his hands. “Fuck, sorry- I should have asked- but when I’m having a panic attack it usually helps to keep me like-… centred.”

“No, it’s-…” Phil releases a shaky breath. “It helps. Thank you,” his eyes flutter shut when he feels two warm hands on his shoulder. He’s already feeling a fraction calmer.

“No need to thank me,” Dan says, his voice like velvet.

His eyes fly open. “Panic attack?”

Dan’s own are soft. “I think that’s what you’re having.”

His heart is still thudding, but at a marginally dropped pace. He’s never experienced anything like that before. Shit, is that what it’s like?

His vision has almost completely cleared; certainly enough to make out Dan’s silhouetted form in the amber glow of the lamp post.

“Is this really what you go through?” his voice is reedy, hoarse. All he can focus on is the boy inches away from his face.

Dan nods quietly. “Can be up to five times a day. Once it was twenty.”

He feels like crying. However much adrenaline there had been ripping through his veins had melted away; albeit only slightly, but the thought alone of this being a daily endeavor makes him want to physically remove his central nervous system himself. The thought of enduring such pain not only on a daily basis but multiple, only to emerge with a smile and with enough capacity to help others with the same issue-

Dan is an angel. 

He doesn’t deserve him, his mind cries. He really doesn’t. He doesn’t.

“Deep breaths,” he reminds him, and it’s only then he realizes he’s hyperventilating again.

“Fuck,” he curses, slowing his chest down. He remembers the candle and closes his eyes again.

“You’re doing great,” Dan whispers when his breathing softens. “You’ve only blown out about seven this time. You’re on your eighth.”

He huffs out a shaky laugh, his heart melting into a puddle. As if he’d been counting.

“Ah,” Dan grins. “Maybe ninth, now.”

“Thank you,” he sighs, still trembling. He can’t tell if it’s temperature or panic-related anymore, but he doesn’t think he cares. He doesn’t have the capacity to right now.

“Come on,” Dan pulls him into a hug, arms wound tight around the waist as if there be no intention, no need to let go. “You’re okay.”

“How can you deal with that?” he says, not bothering to mask the crack in his voice.

“I have my ways,” he says as smoothly as his voice can allow, but Phil feels him gulp. Feels the quick jump of his throat against his shoulder.

The nausea returns.

::

“Ow, fuck-“ Dan snaps his fingers up from the drawer. “Bastard thing.”

“It wants your fingers more than I do,” Phil mumbles, then coughs on a mouthful of Mountain Dew.

Droplets fly everywhere.

"Phil!” Dan’s jaw drops when a few darken his trousers. He’s more than used to the other boy’s frequent laughter at his own jokes, but that one wasn’t even funny. “For fuck’s sake. So not only am I in pain, I’m wet too?”

“In pain and wet?” A voice pops up from around the corner, sending a jolt through the pair of them. “Phil, you naughty bastard, what have you been doing to the poor guy?”

“Oh, you f-“ Phil clutches his chest, his heart hammering. “Are you ever going to stop doing that? I had my first panic attack today. I don’t want another.”

“You’re saying that like it isn’t my plan,” Noah raises an eyebrow and slides past.

“Come in,” Phil gestures sarcastically.

“Leave your door open,’ he retaliates with equal sarcasm, blowing him a kiss. He plops himself down on the revolving chair and takes a token spin. He’s frowning on the other end of the 360 degrees, the other half of the sentence only just registering. “Shit, are you okay? What brought it on?”

“I am now,” Phil’s eyes flicker to the other company, mopping his trousers with a clump of tissue. “Dan got me through.”

He doesn’t deliberately avoid the latter question, but it’s certainly no accident.

“Candle trick works wonders, I’m telling you,” Dan says without turning around, still dabbing at the stain.

“It does,” Noah agrees, picking up Phil’s empty pen holder. He usually lasts a record of ten whole seconds in his room before finding something nearby to fiddle with. “It got me through the Death of a Salesman production, that’s for sure. Christ, I was a mess,” he shudders. “The four-seven-eight trick is good, too,” he adds.

“Four seconds in, hold for seven, exhale for eight,” the other boy echoes. “In through the nose, out through the mouth. You press your tongue on the roof of your mouth just behind your teeth, too.”

“Really?” Phil’s eyes dart between the pair of them. Is this something he’s going to have to get used to?

“It’s meant to recalibrate the nervous system. Apparently Leonardo DiCaprio uses it,” Noah adds.

“Wonder if it would have helped on the Titanic,” Phil raises an eyebrow.

“The fucking boat would have sank anyway,” Noah cackles. “The four-seven-eight is good, but it can’t demolish icebergs, babe.”

“It has its limits,” Dan adds, plopping the tissue in the bin and heading for the bed. A quick "you okay now?" is mouthed as soon as Noah takes another spin on the chair.

Phil nods and gives his hand a little squeeze, praying he hasn’t noticed the sweat.

“So,” Noah spins again, eyes to the ceiling, before muttering a “fuck that” and leaping up off the chair. He stumbles around for a handful of seconds, clutching the desk.  “What have you boys been up to, then?”

“What, since this afternoon?” Phil says. He’d only seen him about five hours ago.

“Yeah. Anything could have happened,” Noah replies, dizzily plonking himself down on the bed next to Dan with such force the shorter boy bobs upward. Phil splutters.

“That was- oh my god, that was adorable,” he gasps delightedly. “Do it again.”

Dan glares at him, fighting a smirk. “Shut up. No, don’t do it again.”

“Do what again?” Noah glances between them. “I don’t even know what I did.”

“Did you not see that?” Phil widens his eyes. “Oh my god. When you bounce down like that,“ he giggles, ignoring Dan’s “no, shall we not” – “Dan’s like a feather, so he literally defies gravity.”

“Hah,” Noah springs upward and launches himself down with about three times the force as before. Dan catapults up, starfished in the air for about a second before hurtling down on the mattress.

Noah and Phil hoot with laughter. Dan’s doubled over in stitches, clutching his abdomen. He can feel tears of laughter brimming at his eyelashes and he probably looks in pain right now but really he’s anything but.

He’s so happy it hurts.

“Shit, he really does!” Noah shrieks. “Oh my god, that’s quality. You okay?”

Dan manages to breathe out an ‘I’m fine’, still clutching his stomach. “Holy shit,” he sighs when he gathers enough composure to speak. “’Memory foam’ my arse. The springs under that thing are giant.”

“Or you’re just tiny,” Phil gushes affectionately, combing a hand through Dan’s hair. The feeling of silky waves between every finger are enough to chase away any remaining claws of anxiety, any pegs to his stomach, if just for a moment.

Maybe it is okay. Maybe it is just a product of an overactive mind. He’s been so wound up recently, what with looming examinations and deadlines and just about everything he could really do without so close to Christmas, that maybe it’s manifesting itself oddly.

Maybe.

He doesn’t want to think about it right now. He swallows the feeling down with another mouthful of beer, the bubbles foaming up like lather in his mouth.

“Shut up,” Dan glares at him, rearranging his fringe. “I’m not that short.”

“He’s mini,” Phil jumps back into conversation, as if Noah he can’t see for himself

“Short people deserve compensation for the amount of shit they go through,” Dan mutters, feigning grumpiness, but the shine in his eyes tell Phil it’s difficult to feel anything other than utter bliss.

“Ah, so you admit it!” Phil’s eyes match the light. “You are short.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Dan blushes, realizing what he’d insinuated.

“Don’t worry, Dan,” Noah chips in. “Phil’s been the same height since he was about twelve. I remember him in year seven,” he glances at the other boy. “You were terrifyingly tall. But then everyone else caught up.”

Phil rolls his eyes. “Yeah, there I was thinking I was some sort of superhuman. Twelve years of age and almost as tall as my dad. They used to call me Slenderman.”

“He looked like Mike TeeVee at the end of the film,” a giggle ripples through Noah.

“I can’t even imagine what he-” Dan frowns. “Mike who?”

Two jaws drop. Silence.

“You’ve never seen Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?!” Noah spits as if it be as outrageous an exclamation as never visiting Sainsbury’s.

Dan’s eyes dart to Phil, blue eyes wide.

“Not even the original?”

“No, I-…” his eyes flick between the two mirroring expressions. He huffs out a chuckle. “Is this really a big thing? Okay, well I’ve never seen Shrek, while we’re at it.”

A collective groan echoes through the walls.

“You’ve got to be fucking-“

“But it’s a-“

“Please tell me you’ve seen Star-“

“Not Wars, or Trek,” Dan cuts him off. “I don’t even know the difference between the two.”

“Dan, I-…” Noah cuts himself off with a sigh, staring at Phil. “What are we gonna do with him?”

“This is a crime,” Phil shakes his head. “This is actually outrageous.”

“If the most offensive thing I’ve done since arriving here has been not sitting through three hours of an ogre’s life, I’ll definitely take that.”

“Oh don’t you worry,” Noah leaps up off the mattress, grabbing his laptop from the revolving chair. “It’s about six hour’s worth in total.”

“Seven-and-a-half if we count the spin-off,” Phil chips in.

“Do we have to?” Dan whines. “I’m sure I’ll love it, but with all due respect I can’t even sit through films I like sometimes.”

“Are you implying you’ll dislike this?” Phil puts a hand on his chest in mock-offence.

“I said I’m sure I’ll lov-“

“Could watch Star Trek,” a voice pipes up from under the bed. Noah’s folded over to one side, the rustling of a carrier bag apparent. He adds, “not Wars, I can’t stand- Phil stop giving me evils you shit, it’s just not as good.”

Phil’s glare toward his turned back turns into a grin. He knows him too well.

He re-emerges clutching a six-pack of bottled beer, tearing one out of the cardboard and dropping it into Phil’s lap.

“He’s talking shit,” Phil mutters.

“I don’t know what to believe,” Dan smirks. “Star Trek is just Shrek with extra letters.”

“We’re gonna have to culture you up, Dan,” Noah shakes his head, thrusting a bag of popcorn almost the size of his torso in his general direction.

“God, you came prepared,” Phil notes. “It’s almost as if you knew we were both here.”

“I could hear you both from down the corridor,” Noah fires back, before adding “Plus you two are inseparable anyway. If I needed to find you, I’ll find you,” he points at Dan, then at Phil. “And vice-versa.”

Phil and Dan exchange glances. Do they really spend that much time together?

It’s difficult to calculate. They spend time apart, obviously. It’s not as if he’s sat in Maths with Dan pirouetting all over the place with a feather duster, but once are done and the final document has been closed; once the day’s duties are behind him, he can’t say he wouldn’t be found tearing from East wing to West; desperate to drop his workload and swap computer chairs for soft mattresses and lamplight.

They’re melting into each-other, and he can feel it.

 Noah smirks, and only says, “We’re performing Alice in Wonderland next week,” his eyes flicker to Dan. “Have you seen that?”

-

Feedback is always appreciated literally HOW IS THIS pls let me know i haven't posted anything in years i love u all for reading thank u so much  

i spent a good 15 minutes attempting to calculate the total running time of the shrek franchise im crying the things i DO i hope its accurate

[twiceblackvelvet]

Tipsy

pt. i. pt. ii. pt. iii.

April 2nd, 2022. 22:31 PM. Seoul.

Apart from being aesthetically pleasing for photography, high-rise balconies with nothing but the night sky and light breeze for the company have always been a place of peace for Yeri. Somewhere to gather all of her thoughts and contemplate her next move, whatever that may be. Several times throughout her career, she’s stood atop a balcony, looked out over the landscape surrounding her, and tried to put everything around her into perspective. The view alone is a big part of why she bought this apartment for herself after it became clear she couldn’t stay with her parents any longer. That and it’s close to the studio where most of her time is spent nowadays.

The wine glass placed on the table beside her has been empty for the past hour, not that it matters. The bitter taste still lingers heavily on her lips as if she’d only just gulped it down. An empty bottle sits discarded on the kitchen counter of her apartment. As of late, those bottles have been piling up more and more to where her mother has grown concerned with the amount of alcohol she’s been consuming whenever she calls over to check on her. However, if it helps with getting a good night’s rest and blocks out the lingering thoughts of self-doubt that threaten to turn her into an insomniac, that’s all that matters.

Falling asleep as the sun rises used to be perfectly fine when there were several managers around and people to make sure she was on-time to different events no matter what. But, she no longer has that luxury with just one manager who barely even checks in with her anymore. A lot has changed in the last few months since the split of Red Velvet, and yet, Yeri still feels like compared to her other former members, she has achieved nothing at all. 

Joohyun has turned herself into a Mother Teresa type for plants the last she heard and is enjoying the simple life. Joy is acting again and appearing on billboards throughout the city for some cosmetic brand that is likely paying her way too much. Wendy has begun the process of kick-starting her career in America, which will no doubt end up being a success. Seulgi, well, she’s probably the only one of the group who truly understands how lost Yeri feels, but even she is preparing to debut solo. 

Whilst everyone moves forward, she can’t help but feel stuck in place. Despite the leap outside of her comfort zone after leaving SM, the creative freedom she so desperately was seeking for years is not the kind she assumed she’d have once becoming a producer and songwriter for an exciting independent label. 

“The artists don’t believe a former girl-group member with such little experience can give them the hit song their career desperately needs.” The words float through her mind once more. A constant alarm within her that triggers a deep sense of hopelessness whenever they appear in her thoughts.

A harsher breeze blows her flowing hair across her face, blocking her from pondering on the darkness inside of her head for too long. Probably for the best. It never ends well when she lets her insecurities get the better of her. The cold air sends a shiver down her spine and threatens to infiltrate her body with the flu if she doesn’t step back into the warmth of her home soon, which she does immediately. 

Like usual, her hands drift back to the empty wine bottle, sullen to find the contents missing but mentally refusing to believe that she is the one who has consumed it entirely. Light background noise stemming from the television is the only sound audible once the doors to the balcony are closed. A re-run of a drama that Yeri has tried to binge-watch three times now, every time her intoxicated brain has prevented her from picking up on the storyline. 

Her back pocket on her jeans holding her phone which is vibrating through the material. Someone is calling. Twisting her arm to grab it, her fingers almost lose their grip and drop the device which would no doubt have smashed it against the hard flooring. However, she catches it before disaster strikes and answers the call all in one motion.

Had she gotten the chance to check who it was that was on the other end of the line, she may not have wished to speak to them. But no, she has no choice. She heaves a deep sigh before putting the phone to her ear, immediately regretting how close she pressed it against her head.

“Hey! Yeri! Hello? Are you there?”

“Wendy. I’m here. You don’t need to shout, you know?”

A short laugh can be barely heard before Wendy once again bursts Yeri’s eardrums.

“I’m not shouting! There’s just an echo in my bedroom. Anyway, that’s not important, I have something to tell you!”

“If this is about the place that sells muffins that are also doughnuts again, I don’t want to hear it. I know they’re the best thing you’ve ever had but if I can’t taste them then what’s the point in telling me about it?” Yeri fires back. In Wendy’s words “heavenly food mash-ups that get the Seungwan approval,” is frankly wearing her patience thin.

“No, silly! I just woke up, I haven’t eaten yet, but I got some good news. Are you ready for it?”

“I’m practically on the edge of my seat.” 

That’s the first honest thing Yeri has said to Wendy in weeks during these phone calls that have become a bit of a habit. Her tipsy state has made sitting like a normal human being relatively difficult, it seems. 

“Well, prepare to be blown off it. The label finally got back to me about including the song you wrote for me on my album, they want it to be a bonus track, isn’t that amazing?” 

It takes Yeri a moment to recall what Wendy is talking about. The closest her hands have gotten to completing a full song lately was a poem she wrote on a napkin whilst out for breakfast with a mean hangover. However, it suddenly clicks when Wendy hums the melody, and Yeri realizes she has made a big, huge, major error. 

“Wait, Wendy. You can’t use that song! I don’t want it on your album!” She practically screeches and this time it’s Wendy’s turn to feel a sharp pain in her ears.

“Why? You were so proud of it and you know I love it too, I’ve already recorded and submitted it, I’m not sure they’ll let me take it back now.”

A throbbing sensation settles itself dead center in Yeri’s forehead. There’s absolutely no way of getting out of this one alive. Either Wendy will kill her, or… even worse…

“It’s fine, ignore me. It’s your song Wendy, I’m sure the album will be amazing but I really need to go.” 

Without waiting for Wendy to tell her goodbye, Yeri has already hung up on her and is quickly scrambling to find the right contact hoping to be able to stop what could be a disaster waiting to blow up. The phone rings for several moments before finally a robotic voice reads the age-old script of “this number is unavailable, please try again later.”

For the next thirty minutes, Yeri calls and calls, desperately hoping that on at least one of these occasions she’ll finally hear anything other than a dead end. Pacing the floor of her apartment, she deeply regrets drinking all of her wine earlier. A nice glug would go down well right now to stop her entire body from shaking. 

Just as she’s about to give up and try to sleep this awful situation away, her phone finally rings and there in bold letters lies the person she’s been aiming to speak to. Seulgi.

“Hey, Yeri. I have a bunch of missed calls, what’s going on? Are you okay?” 

The sincere, worried tone to Seulgi’s voice only makes Yeri feel even worse about what she’s about to request of the person she’s been relying on heavily these last few months to help her through the slump she’s fallen into.

“Hey, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, about all the calls I just really need a favor from you.” 

“You called me 216 times for a favor?”

Yeri pulls her phone away to check the number for herself, shocked that it’s even possible to call someone that amount of times in such a short period. But there it is, clear as day. 

“Um… Yeah. It’s kind of important, you see.” 

It isn’t. It’s just a stupid mistake that’s all her fault that she now needs to hope Seulgi will bail her out of without her finding out the real reason behind her request.

“Okay, what’s up? You’re worrying me, kid.” 

“Well, you know Beautiful Love Lost.” 

“Oh, yeah, I was just listening to the final version, funnily enough. The company loves it I even heard some people talking about how they regret letting you go.” 

Things could not get any worse, Yeri thinks.

“Well, I need you to delete it, please.” 

Silence is all that follows her words for a few seconds until finally Seulgi releases a deep exhale. 

“Look, Yeri. I know you’ve been kind of down lately with things not working out at the label. But once this gets released, they’ll see that you’re the most talented person they have there. I promise you, you don’t need to doubt yourself.”

Things did get worse. 

“It’s not that, I just think it’s too personal, I don’t want you to release it.” A lie, the biggest lie she’s ever told to Seulgi.

“I don’t understand… You were happy for me to have this and now… you’re not?”

“Yes, exactly. Now I’m not. I don’t want people to read too much into it and think they know me.” 

She doesn’t speak, but Yeri can tell that Seulgi is taking in everything she’s saying to her and trying her best to digest it all. Even to her own ears, the words don’t quite make sense, nor do they feel truthful. Seulgi has always had a way of reading between the lines and Yeri knows she’s doing exactly that now, she knows that Seulgi knows this isn’t the real reason she doesn’t want her to release the song. However, she surprisingly doesn’t question it.

“Fine, I won’t use it. But you owe me another song and fast. The album is due out on the 16th but I have four more days to resubmit anything I’m not happy with.” 

“Yes. You know you’re my favorite person, right Seul?”

“Sure kid,” The doubt clear in her tone. “But I mean it. Four days or I can’t do anything for you. I’ll have to use one of the SM producer’s songs.”

“I will, I promise.” 

They say their goodbyes to one another with Yeri breathing a deep sigh of relief she had been holding during the entire call. However, the anxiety rises in her chest once more with the realization that Seulgi, despite her stubbornness on the subject of Wendy, will probably listen to her solo project even if it’s just to be overly and falsely critical. 

Her mind goes into overdrive with worry about just how Seulgi will react. Will she bring her death slowly? Or will she simply ignore her existence as she has done with the rest of their former members? 

Before the fear consumes her completely, however, several messages from Wendy appear in the notification bar of her phone. 

00:13 AM  [Wendy]

It’s fine Yeri, I won’t use the song if you don’t want me to. I know this is personal for you.

I hope you release it one day instead. I miss hearing you sing. 

Don’t forget though, the album is out on the 15th. You better listen to it!

The only feeling Yeri is capable of at this moment is relief, however, had she took the chance to pay attention to what Wendy had said, she’d realize that another disaster was still steaming ahead on two different tracks ready to collide on the same day as each other for her two friends.

pt.v

[tessisawriter]

What Real Support Looks Like, Part 2 (Mat Barzal)

Part 1 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8

A/N: I changed my other OC (the friend from Ireland) to a girl because at its core, this story is about the various support systems people have, and I want to portray strong female friendships.

TCD = Trinity College Dublin

Warnings: Two swear words, angst (please let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 2.4k

The sun streaming through the blinds woke Gemma up.

She rubbed her eyes and sat up, expecting to see her and Mat’s room, but she saw the Eberle’s spare room and remembered last night’s events. 

Gemma wished she could go back to that blissfully unaware state she was in thirty seconds ago, but that was not how the world worked. She looked over at the clock, which read 9:15AM. Jordan and Lauren had to be awake by now, since Jordan had practice in a little over an hour. She got out of bed and padded over to the bathroom that was conveniently attached to the spare room.

Lauren was right about her body needing to recover. Gemma slept like the dead last night, and she actually felt well rested. When she saw her reflection in the mirror, though, she realized that she didn’t look as good as she felt. She clearly didn’t do a thorough job of removing her mascara because she looked like a raccoon, and her nose was red from all of the crying. Gemma cringed but didn’t dwell on it, and she made a beeline for the makeup bag she haphazardly packed last night. She ransacked it in search of her mascara remover, but she only found cotton rounds. She looked at the counter and felt like an idiot when she saw the mascara remover sitting on it, front and center. 

Gemma wiped each of her eyes clean and washed her face. After she was finished, she looked in the mirror again, and she was pleased that she looked almost normal.

She walked back into the bedroom and pulled out a pair of jeans, a light sweater, and socks from her overnight bag. It had been unseasonably warm for the beginning of March, so Gemma only packed a few pairs of clothing. She was going to have to go back to Mat’s apartment sooner rather than later.

She sat down on the bed, and as she put on her socks, Gemma noticed that her phone was not on the night table where she thought she left it. Figuring she left it outside, she exited the bedroom and walked into the living room, but no one was there. She stood there for a moment, and she heard hushed voices coming from the dining room. If Mat were here, she knew he wouldn’t be quiet, so she approached the dining room.

Gemma was greeted with the sight of Jordan eating fruit at one end of the table, and Lauren and Sydney Esiason huddled in front of Sydney’s laptop on the other.

Sydney was Matt Martin’s fiancé, and she was Gemma’s other closest friend out of the other Islanders’ S/O’s. The two of them bonded over both being from Long Island, and she was the first person to get Gemma out of her shell. Sydney and Lauren weren’t particularly friendly before Gemma started dating Mat, but she had brought them together, and they were now as close to each other as she was to both of them.

“Gemma! You’re finally awake! How are you, sweetie?” Sydney walked over to her and encompassed her in a bone-crushing hug. She was much shorter than Gemma (so was almost every S/O and a few of the players), but she was strong. Gemma hugged her back.

“I’m assuming you know?” Gemma asked as she pulled back from the embrace.

“Mat called our house last night looking for you,” Sydney said.

“Oh God. Lauren, did he call here?”

“We took the landline off the hook, but yes, he called both mine and Jordan’s cellphones,” Lauren replied. “We let them ring. And then an hour ago, your phone started ringing; it was so loud that we could hear it in the living room. I was sure you were going to wake up, but when I went into your room, you were sound asleep, so I took it outside. Here,” she said, holding out Gemma’s cellphone in her hand.

“Thanks,” Gemma said.

“Oh, and your mom also called a half hour ago. Apparently, Mat called her too.”

“What? Are you serious?” She couldn’t believe Mat called her mom.

Gemma’s mom moved to Charleston, South Carolina two months ago with her new husband because the property taxes were too high in New York. They were very close and talked to each other almost every day.

“Yeah. Needless to say, she was alarmed and called your cell. Since I had it, I picked up and told her everything, and that you are going to be living here until you find a new apartment. She asked me to have you call her as soon as you woke up.”

“Okay, let me give her a call,” Gemma paused for a moment before adding: “Did she say anything about him being drunk when he called?”

“She didn’t, but you never know,” Lauren replied.

“Ugh,” Gemma said while pulling up the contact on her phone. Her mom picked up after only one ring.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?”

“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine,” Gemma reassured her.

“Lauren and Sydney told me everything. You did the right thing, honey,” she said.

“I know,” Gemma replied, and even though she meant it wholeheartedly, her voice cracked.

“Sweetheart, are you sure you’re okay? Do you need me to come back and stay for a few days?”

“No, Mom, I’m fine. I’m in good hands with Lauren, Sydney and Jordan,” she replied. “Besides, I don’t want to uproot you from your new home so soon.”

“Okay, but don’t you worry about me. If you need me, I’ll be on the next flight out.”

“Thanks, Mom. I love you,” Gemma said.

“I love you, too.”

Gemma hung up the phone and looked at Lauren and Sydney, who had resumed looking at whatever was on Sydney’s laptop. Jordan was no longer at the table; he must have gone inside to get ready for practice.

“What are you two up to?” Gemma was suspicious.

“Well, since you didn’t get to celebrate your birthday yesterday and it’s going to be 75 degrees out today, Lauren and I thought we should throw you a party at my pool,” Sydney said.

“Guys, that’s so sweet, but you don’t have to…”

“Stop it, Gem. We’re more than happy to do it, and you deserve it,” Sydney said.

“Well then, thank you! But wait, did you just say it’s going to be 75 degrees out? It’s March.”

“Yep,” Sydney replied, emphasizing the “p,” “And it’s going to 45 degrees on Saturday. There’s climate change for you. Do you have a bikini with you?”

“No, they’re at Mat’s apartment,” Gemma said.

“Well, I’m going to practice in a few minutes,” Jordan announced, re-entering the dining room with his hockey bag in tow, “And Mat will be there, too, so if you want to go to the apartment while we’re there, that would probably be a good idea. Especially if you left behind anything you’re going to need.”

“Well, I’m definitely going to need my umbrella,” she said, thinking back to last night and her ruined dress. Gemma often attached memories of important events to clothing, so the dress wasn’t a big loss because she wasn’t going to be wearing it again, anyway. She couldn’t bear wearing the dress in which Mat broke her heart.

“I’ll see if Marty, Tito, and I can figure out something to keep him occupied for the afternoon, maybe a trip into the city, but I can’t promise you anything,” Jordan said. Gemma knew they didn’t have a game tonight, so maybe they could get him off the Island. She didn’t want him to ruin her second attempt at celebrating her birthday.

“As long as he stays away from Sydney and Marty’s house, we should be…” Lauren was cut off by incessant pounding on the front door. Gemma knew who it was without even having to look out the front window to confirm it.

“I’ll get it,” Jordan said. He walked over to the door and opened it, and a crazed-looking Mat shoved him back into the house before Jordan could react.

“Hey!” Jordan yelled as Mat walked towards Gemma in the dining room.

“Gemma!” Mat said, but before he could get to her, Sydney stepped in front of her.

“Do you seriously think any of us are going to let you talk to her?” Sydney growled. Gemma had never heard her sound so agitated. “I don’t know what the fuck your problem is, and I don’t care. No,” she said to Mat, who had tried to interject. “What you said to Gemma was inexcusable. Matt and I are absolutely disgusted with you. It was her birthday, for fuck’s sake! And the project she has worked so hard on is finally close to being done, but you couldn’t just be happy for her, could you? You don’t deserve her.” Sydney was out of breath when she finished berating Mat. Gemma wanted to hug her, but Mat opened his mouth before she had a chance.

“She’s right, Gem, I don’t deserve you,” he said, “I am so, so sorry for everything I said last night. I do support your career, I was just frustrated…”

“No,” the word left her mouth before she could stop it. “Being frustrated is not an excuse to say what you did. You could’ve talked to me and said you missed spending quality time with me, but no. Besides, I think you meant what you said last night.”

“Gemma, I didn’t…”

“You know what they say about people when they’re drunk. They are more likely to tell the truth, and I think you told the truth when you said you wished I wasn’t going for my master’s degree,” she said. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore, get out.” Gemma was tearing up, but she didn’t want Mat to see that.

“But Gem…”

“Okay, that’s enough, we’re going to practice,” Jordan said, grabbing the back of Mat’s t-shirt and hauling him to the front door. “I’ll see you later, babe,” Jordan said to Lauren as he shoved a struggling Mat out of the house and shut the door behind him.

“Well, that was…something,” Lauren said, and she walked over to Gemma. “Are you okay, Gem?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Gemma lied through her teeth, and Lauren looked like she knew it.

“As soon as Jordan texts me that they’re at Northwell, we’ll go to Mat’s apartment, get some of your stuff, and then come back here before going to Sydney’s. Sydney, has anyone else confirmed their attendance?”

“Yeah, Grace just said she’s coming,” Sydney said, referring to Grace, the captain, Anders Lee’s wife.

“And how about Kristy? Can she get someone to babysit Jack for the afternoon?” Kristy was Casey Cizikas’ wife, and Jack was their one year-old son.

“She’s not sure, but she wants to come. If Jack isn’t too fussy, she might bring him.”

“All right, sounds like we have everything together on that front,” Lauren said. “We’re not going to be able to leave for a few minutes, so why don’t you eat your breakfast, Gemma? I left it on the counter.”

“Thanks, Lauren,” Gemma said, and she padded into the kitchen, where a bowl of fruit awaited her. She grabbed a fork and sat at the center island when her phone buzzed. It was a text from Mat, of course.

“I’m sorry,” it read. Gemma scoffed and deleted it, and was about to silence her phone when she realized she had one more call to make.

She pulled up Annie’s contact. Annie was Gemma’s closest friend who she met at TCD while on her semester abroad. Annie graduated last year and was now working at a financial firm in Dublin. Right after Gemma came back from TCD, she met Mat, and last summer, she took him to Ireland so that she could show him where she went to school and introduce him to the friends she made while there. Mat charmed the socks off of all her friends except Annie, who didn’t like him from the start. Gemma knew Annie wouldn’t be surprised to hear what happened.

Annie’s phone didn’t even ring before Gemma heard her lilting Irish accent on the answering machine.

“Hi, it’s Annie, leave a message and I’ll call you back.”

The phone beeped and Gemma started talking.

“Hey, it’s me, um…I can’t really talk about this on your voicemail, but I need you to call me back, it’s really important. Okay, bye.” Gemma hung up and immediately flipped the button on the side of her phone to silent mode. She ate a few kiwis and slices of mango before Lauren and Sydney entered the kitchen.

“Jordan and Mat are at Northwell, let’s go!” Lauren said.

“Okay, let me just go get my bag,” Gemma replied, and she walked into the spare room. Her backpack already had her wallet and keys inside it and plenty of space for some more clothes since she unloaded her books last night, so Gemma grabbed it and headed back to the kitchen, where Lauren and Sydney were waiting. Both of them were ready to go.

“All right, I’m ready.” Gemma announced, and the three of them walked out of the house.

“I’ll see you in 30!” Sydney said before she got into her car.

Gemma looked at Lauren. “I hate to ask you this, but…”

“I’d be happy to drive,” Lauren answered, already knowing what she was about to ask.

“Thank you.” Gemma handed her the keys and got into the passenger’s seat.

When Lauren shut the door on the driver’s side, she put a hand on Gemma’s shoulder and said, “It’s going to be okay, Gem.”

“I know,” she replied.

“You don’t have to put up those walls around me,” Lauren said, “I get it. It’s going to be really hard to go back to Mat’s apartment. But I’ll be there with you, and we’ll get out of there as soon as we can, okay?”

“Okay,” she said. Satisfied, Lauren started the car and pulled out of the driveway, driving down the same road Gemma did only twelve hours before.

@averytiredlawstudent @star-adorned @theforevermorereject

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 57

I just realized this morning that I have been consistently updating chapters for just over a year now. The first 5 chapters of this story were just kind of helter-skelter when I first joined Tumblr in 2017.  I re-posted them from my main to this blog on September 11, 2018, before starting my weekly chapters with number 6 the following day. 

In that year, I have gathered 431 followers, several regular re-bloggers, some new friends, and two very good online friends who I adore (@charlylimph-blog and @baelpenrose, I’m looking at y’all).

Thank you, everyone, for being so supportive of this story and all the other stories I’ve posted on here.

With that said, here’s today’s chapter. I hope you all enjoy!

I woke up in the middle of the night with a groan. Groggy, I reached for my wrist to turn off my alarm, only to realize that it had never gone off. Why am I awake? my tired brain slogged to figure out. It wasn’t a noise, as far as I could tell – the room was too quiet for that, and Conor was still snoring beside me. Slowly, I started to realize that it was entirely too quiet.  I reached across the snoring lump beside me, and found what I had expected: cold sheets.  Maverick had gotten up in the middle of the night.

Gently, I got up and padded out into the public space of our quarters. Sure enough, a tousled head of black hair was poking over the back of the arm chair.  I could hear a low murmur and realized he was talking to someone.  Maverick wasn’t the kind to keep secrets, so instead of indulging my vast capacity to be nosy, I cleared my throat to let him know I was there.

A hand popped up and waved me over. “I couldn’t sleep, so I was talking to Dad.” Nothing in me was surprised by the fact that he was having a conversation with a man who died over thirty Terran years ago.  It probably didn’t hurt that it was a pretty frequent occurrence.

Sure enough, as I came around the chair to sit with him, Maverick was holding a photo of his dad in one hand, the other held out in invitation to curl up on his lap. “Good morning, Mr. Okima,” I yawned at the photo before kissing Maverick’s cheek. “You can’t sleep either?”

“You know Dad doesn’t sleep.”

“I meant you, silly.”

“Oh.” He squeezed me before setting down the photo. “Nah, I’ve been having nightmares lately.  Not the normal kind, with you and Conor getting tired of me and leaving me. These are more the horror movie kind. Voices whispering, I can’t find whoever it is, I don’t know if they want to hurt me or need help, that kind of thing.”

My chest ached at how casually he mentioned his ‘normal’ nightmares, but I bit back my automatic argument. The three of us had talked about it in depth, not long after we agreed to make things official, and we all had our baggage that we were working through.  Instead, I cleared my throat and tried to focus on the more immediate issue. “Have you ever had nightmares like that before?”

He tilted his head briefly before resting his cheek on my hair. “Sometimes. Usually after someone I was close with died.”

“Is talking with your dad helping?” No one had died on the ship, to my knowledge, so I was clueless where the bad dreams were coming from.

“Usually does.  I started writing him letters about a year after he was gone, but my aunt kept finding them. I didn’t really understand death when I was six, so I thought I could send the letters to Japan and he would come find me. It made her angry, so she…”

I knew this part of the story. She made him watch her burn them. It was horrible. “So you started talking to him instead,” I prompted.

“Yeah.” I could feel his smile against my head. “When I got older and understood better, it just made sense, you know? The words go out into the universe, and they’re everywhere, so that meant they could find him wherever he was.”

I nodded in agreement. “I did the same thing after I lost Jo, talking to her. It made me feel better, and I was twenty,” I poked his side for emphasis.

“I know.”

“Think you can sleep now?” I asked, looking up at him.

“Maybe.” He held me tighter instead of moving to stand.  “What about you?”

“I woke up because you weren’t there,” I admitted.

A small smile crept on his face. “But I snore the worst of the three of us,” he pointed out.

“And I need that snore to sleep.  Come on, we’ll put you in the middle this time.  I think nightmares mean you need it more right now.” I stood and gently tugged him to his feet, wrapping my arms around his waist.  I had never been a short woman, so I loved how small I felt with both of them and took a moment to bask in the feeling. After a moment, we made our way back to the bedroom.

As soon as we were at the foot of the bed, Conor made it clear that he was also awake.  Unceremoniously, he lifted the blankets in a clear command to come back to bed. Giggling, I crawled in after Maverick and leaned over to drop a kiss on Conor’s forehead.  He wrapped around our pilot like an octopus before nuzzling into the bend of his neck.  “Stupid gits, awake at all hours of the night. How’s a man supposed to sleep in an empty bed?”

Maverick rolled his eyes to me before scooping me in close so we could all grab a couple more hours of sleep.

 The next morning, I was feeling my midnight chat but fought it off to focus on the task at hand. True to my word, I stopped by Xiomara’s office before I even stopped at my own. Without looking up from my datapad, I started talking as soon as the door opened. “Xio, I wanted to make sure you heard about what happened in BioLab 2 yesterday – “

“Good Morning, Councillor Reid,” a calm voice interrupted.

My head snapped up.  Looked like Tyche and I were wrong about Grey forgetting to tell Xiomara, although not by much if their postures were anything to go by. “Oh, good morning, Grey!” I blinked, eyes wide. “I honestly thought you would still be asleep, given how late Maverick got home last night.”

Rubbing their face, they sighed. “I sincerely wish I was still asleep rather than still awake,” they admitted. Only then did I notice the dark circles around their eyes. “I have promised myself that I will sleep after I meet with Councillor Kalloe, so please do not let yourself worry.”

I scowled at my friend, as I was working up a full head of steam to nag her into a nap. “Well, it looks like we had the same idea, at least as far as making sure Xiomara is in the loop.”

The woman in question rubbed her eyes with one hand, groaning. “This sounds like a nightmare already, if both of you have come charging in here so early.  So, let’s hear it.”  I gestured silently for Grey to speak, knowing that they had far more information on everything than I did. As I patiently waited for them to give the brief version and send all the data already collected over, I was treated to a rollercoaster of expression from the head of Health and Safety.

Finally, Grey was finished.  As soon as they made their excuses and left, the anticipated explosion erupted forth. “I cannot believe this!” she shouted. “Grey, I understand – they were trying to get on top of it as quickly as possible, especially with the scrutiny their department would be under. And you!” she pointed her finger at me sharply. “You had no reason to know any sooner than you did, and that idiot is working both of your partners to the bone. You are excused from my wrath,” she spat. I struggled to keep a smile off my face; Xio may get impressively furious, but she always made sure to target her weaponized anger at the right target. “But Giang flipping Huynh could have told me this yesterday!” Her voice had dropped to something eerily between a hiss and a growl. “We have no idea how many people on this ship are at risk or could have been hurt. I have to get down there, check out the lab, check the logs…”

“Xiomara,” I interrupted, grabbing her forearms gently and wiggling them. “Xio. I completely agree that you should have been informed much sooner.  But going down there right now will not help, especially when Grey already gave you all the data gathered by the research lab yesterday.”

“It helps me think – “

“You would have to be thinking clearly first, and you know it,” I told her firmly, pointing to her seat.  With the closest thing to a pout I had ever seen on her face, she sat down.  Her generally dangerous-looking grace gave it a very feline air of I’m sitting because I want to, not because you told me. “Now. Coffee.  I know you’re furious, and I don’t blame you.  Being there yesterday was enough to set Conor into a fit of anger bad enough that he scared a couple people.  And your temper is much worse than his.” I grabbed the two cups of coffee I had dialed up – one iced, light, and sweet, the other hot and as black as I could manage to get it – and set her customary jet fuel in front of her. “Coffee first, then look over the data. Once you know what to expect, then go down there and see it for yourself.”

“I take it Huynh is nowhere near the lab.”

“Nope. And I am being very careful not to know where he is so that I can’t tell you that, either.”

“Mmm hmm,” she hummed as she sipped her coffee. “And it has nothing to do with the fact that he is coming down hard on your men?”

“Not a thing,” I lied smoothly. “I will admit to being a bit miffed that Alistair’s swimming lessons are being postponed until future notice, though.”

She arched a brow. “No swimming at all?”

“Just until you look over the results Grey gave you regarding the water, so you can approve re-opening the general area and only cordon off the diving platforms. Hence asking you to review the data before you go storming empty trenches.”

I was awarded with a regal nod. “Hide my quarry and keep the information hostage until I perform a heroic task. Wise decision.”

“I try,” I smirked. At least she was in a good mood again. Feel more confident with the odds of her looking at Grey’s report first, I stood to leave. “Time to check in with my mermaid-resistant admin and see what’s on the agenda for today.”

“Has Conor considered sparring?”

“He considered it just long enough to summarily reject it.  I’m thinking running, or dance.” I glanced at her slyly. “Or maybe capoeira?” It was an open secret that Xiomara taught classes in her scant spare time.

She laughed and waved me out of her office. “Just make sure that Grey doesn’t come back on shift today, okay?”

I groaned. “That’s going to be nearly impossible, but I’ll try.  And we may need to consider re-visiting shipwide treatments for anxiety and sleep disorders.  Last night, Antoine mentioned that the reactions to the recent adjustment in gravity are exceeding what we anticipated.”

“And I need Grey for that,” she sighed. “The same person who needs to sleep.” She ran a hand through her hair, toying with the end of one dreadlock while she thought. “Miys.  If Grey Hodenson tries to go back to work, can you alert me immediately?  I want to discuss this with them, and it may be best if I bring up the topic when they are most aware of symptoms.”

“Clever girl,” I murmured, grinning. “That’s something I would do.”

She tossed me a wink. “You aren’t the only one picking up tricks.”

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[aroworlds]

Aro-Spec Artist Profile: Nate

Our next aro-spec creator is Nate, better known on Tumblr as @astriiformes!

Nate is an asexual, aromantic, neurodivergent and mentally ill trans guy/person continuing the tradition of aro-spec creators demonstrating an impressive diversity of talent. He writes, cosplays, creates filk music and produces visual art--and that’s when he’s not playing D&D and attending conventions!

You can find him on Twitter as planar_ranger and on 8tracks as azhdarchidaen. He’s also found on AO3 as azhdarchidaen, with a prolific selection of works for the Gravity Falls, Doctor Who, Critical Role and Pacific Rim fandoms! If you have a dollar or two you’re wanting to invest in worthy aro-spec talent, please take a look at Nate’s Ko-Fi!

With us Nate talks about expressing emotions through creativity, the intersection of aromanticism and perfectionism, the importance of storytelling as self-expression and his passion for D&D as a way of giving voice to his aromantic experience. His love for fandom, creativity and storytelling shines through every word, so please let’s give him all our love, encouragement, gratitude, kudos and follows for taking the time to explore what it is to be aromantic and creative.

Can you share with us your story in being aro-spec?

While I didn’t know the word “aromantic” until I was 15 or 16, and took a while to embrace it even then, when I look back on my childhood I can definitely see some of the earliest signs. Perhaps the most prominent was my mild disappointment at age 12 or 13 in discovering the Star Wars EU novels only to learn that Luke Skywalker, one of my most pervasively favorite characters since I first watched the movies and likely my earliest aro headcanon, ended up getting married! I ended up writing what was technically my first fanfiction after that discovery, an alternate take on the post-Return of the Jedi universe in which he didn’t.

But I didn’t really start to realize I was aro, or even know it was an identity at all, until two things happened. First, I joined an LGBTQA+ group on a writer’s forum I used to frequent and started to not only learn the vocabulary but also that identifying as something other than straight or cis was even allowed. Second, I entered what was essentially the closest thing to a romantic relationship I’ve ever experienced. By some measures it probably was one, but there really wasn’t much romance involved – because I wasn’t pushing it (for reasons that are now obvious to me), and the guy I was sort-of-dating was pretty respectful of my boundaries and was probably waiting for me to make some of those moves before trying himself. The relationship eventually broke off several months after he moved to Europe. He messaged me to say he felt bad about the fact that our long-distance “relationship” was probably holding me back from finding someone I could be happier with, and he would be more comfortable breaking it off. The fact that I felt no real sadness over that was a fairly big bit of evidence for my aromanticism, second only to the fact that I had actually become more comfortable with our situation when he moved across the Atlantic Ocean.

Clues like those eventually lead me to adopt the label and really begin to understand myself, I think around age 16 or 17. I went through a slow process of accepting all my queer identities one-by-one and kind of see them all as pretty interconnected. The aro one was in the middle.

Can you share with us the story behind your creativity?

I really like making things. For all the frustration I experience trying to write something I’m happy with, or panicked near all-nighters trying to finish props before a convention, I really am at my happiest when I have projects to engage in. I take a lot of pride in my identity as a content creator as a result, though it also means I can set discouragingly high standards for myself. That being said, there’s nothing that makes me happier that someone enjoying something I put time and effort into and being able to go “I made this.”

Writing was definitely my earliest outlet (I did draw things when I was younger, but I didn’t show my art to anyone until this time last year). I was posting fics (under a different username, fortunately; I don’t want my early teenage writing unearthed ten years later) on ff.net by early high school, a narrative I’m sure I share with plenty of other creators. I’ve done more interesting things with my writing since migrating over to AO3 though, and I continue to feel like my writing is growing (even if, sometimes, I worry it’s going too slowly).

Getting into cosplay was something I picked up only a year or so later, though again, comparing my current work to those first few attempts feels almost silly. My first cosplay was a patched-together Eighth Doctor mostly made out of thrift store finds that looked only debatably like the real deal. Since then, I’ve gotten better at sewing my own things and have realized one of my true strengths lies in elaborate props. My two most recent cosplays were Stanford Pines from Gravity Falls, with a fully-illustrated and screen-accurate copy of the third journal, complete with blacklight effects, and Taako, from The Adventure Zone, with an Umbra Staff that I had re-covered in fabric and had fully-functional LED “stars” built into it, stars I could make twinkle via a secret remote. I’m attempting two characters that are even more ambitious for conventions this year, but we’ll have to see how that actually goes…

My filk contributions aren’t massive, but the community aspect (and that it connected me to someone who is now one of my closest friends, who made me go from enjoying the genre to contributing to it) and some of the things I’ve done as a result of it make me feel it has a place as part of my creative identity. You haven’t lived until you’ve performed decades-old songs about space travel with your friends, in cosplay, in a crowded convention center! (Okay, a debatable statement. But a truly wild experience.) It’s also been a good outlet for me in some ways, because music is a powerful way to get across emotions. I play viola and piano, and have for years, so I knew that to some degree before I started writing my own lyrics to things. But personalizing songs by making them be about things you have really strong feelings for is another level entirely.

And then, art. Like I said, I never really shared it with anyone (or drew much at all) until about a year ago. Part of that was due to wanting to try my hand at digital art but not really having an understanding of what programs to use or how to get started with it, and part of it was the inertia of feeling like “if I’m not good at something immediately, I shouldn’t try at all!” The thing that really got the ball rolling for me is the long D&D campaign I’m currently in. When I was excited about other stories, chances were someone else had drawn art of it that I could enjoy and reblog. That’s not really the case with one you’re telling with only 5-6 other people. I had a sort of epiphany moment a couple months into the campaign, as the story really started picking up, that if I wanted to see the kind of art I appreciate for this new story I was falling in love with, I would probably have to do it myself. I’m still not incredibly happy with my work, since I’m surrounded by friends who are incredible artists and my style is fairly simplistic and oddly stylized, but I have gotten to a point where I draw fairly regularly, and generally put up what I create on our shared campaign blog. The same D&D game has wrenched over 15k words of original writing from me, which is pretty astonishing. Most of that isn’t anywhere to be found on Tumblr just yet, though – it’s largely still-top secret character backstory.

Are there any particular ways your aro-spec experience is expressed in your art?

The most obvious way is that I write fics about characters being aromantic and dealing with their aromanticism. All headcanons, unfortunately (I’m yet to find a canon aro in anything I love that I didn’t help create myself), but there are several stories on my AO3 about characters from Pacific Rim, Star Wars or Gravity Falls realizing they’re aromantic. And the fics that don’t deal with that are still all gen – I’m too romance-repulsed to write anything else, and I feel the world needs a lot more genfic anyways.

One other way, though I feel a bit silly calling it “art”, is that I am intentionally playing an aromantic character of my own creation in my current D&D campaign. I’ve been playing for several years now, and did have another character back in high school who I also imagined as aromantic. (Partially because of an awkward flirting mishap – an enemy tried to get my character off her guard with romance and it all backfired because she didn’t know how to respond. All my own fault – I don’t even know how to roleplay that!) But none of the campaigns I’ve played in until this one were particularly intent on exploring characters and their feelings all that deeply, or really making them a part of the story.

With my current character, it’s become incredibly validating to view him as aromantic and asexual, like myself. It’s that same impulse that got me started doing more art – if the fiction I like isn’t going to provide me with aromantic characters, I’ll have to make one myself! And it’s slowly leading to some very interesting explorations of aro identity and the normalising of it in our world. We’ve established that identifying that way isn’t particularly unusual for elves and talked about what that means for worldbuilding. Do they hold platonic relationships in the same regard as romantic ones? Is there a special kind of relationship that signifies that? What if we put friendship under the banner of the goddess of romantic love too? Though at the same time, I’m exploring some of the same feelings I experience with him – he’s a particularly lonely person, who worries about people actually wanting to stay with him, both of which are prominent features of my own aromantic experience.

What challenges do you face as an aro-spec artist?

Like many of us, I do worry that my genfics will be less enjoyed or circulated as a result of choosing not to include ships. And whenever I post a fic about a character actually being aro, I definitely get that little stab of “Someone is going to have a problem with this” fear.

I also feel that my experience with aromanticism has shaped a lot of my perfectionistic tendencies. Because I worry so much about trying to remain important in my allo friends’ lives, and because I think of so much of my identity as associated with creativity, I tend to get really wrapped up in my work needing to seem amazing somehow, to make people think I’m worth their time. It’s a silly thing to get preoccupied over, but it has had an impact on me. In some ways wanting my work to be really good is not a bad thing – it encourages me to do my very best whenever I can – but the motivation is really all wrong.

How do you connect to the aro-spec and a-spec communities as an aro-spec person?

I’m honestly pretty disconnected from them. I might be less-inclined to be if this website wasn’t suddenly experiencing such backlash against a-spec identities, but as is I’m almost afraid to engage with anything that might make me a target. Which is really unfortunate. That being said, whenever I do make any aro content and I see it circulated to other aromantic people, I get a lot of joy from it. The comments on my multiple aromantic-focused fics are some of my favorite ones I’ve ever received. If I can channel my experiences into something that elicits that kind of a reaction from our community, I consider my work well done.

How do you connect to your creative community as an aro-spec person?

When I’m able to talk to other aromantic people about headcanons (or even some of my very understanding allo friends who absorb them from me, too), pretty well! Unfortunately, that’s a pretty tiny fraction of my fandom experience. Even some of my interests where you’d think I wouldn’t run into problems have been difficult at times. I once had someone dressed as a character often (non-canonically) shipped with the one I was cosplaying, and they assumed that I would be interested in hearing that they shipped our character. Instead, they just made me very uncomfortable, particularly with the way they chose to do so.

In general, the expectation that as a member of fandom, producing fandom works, I will be interested in creating and consuming romantic content is hard to deal with. I’ve had people ask me to put ships in my fics, the aforementioned convention incident, and been heckled over having aromantic headcanons at all. That being said, aromantic headcanons were how I met at least a few of my good friends. Finding each other may be hard, but since we all feel so isolated I think that finding other aro creators inhabiting the same or similar spaces can lead to pretty quick bonding, or at least an appreciation of each others’ works. I do like that.

I’ve also, as I have mentioned a couple times now, realized the worth of telling my own stories, particularly if I have other people to share them with who will respond positively. Right now, most of my D&D group is not aro, but they are a group that respects my and my character’s identities, and being able to tell an aro narrative that means a lot to me and get a positive response is a breath of fresh air. I count them as fellow content creators and they’ve really encouraged the story I want to tell. I hope that someday the inspiration I’ve gained from that will lead me to publishing my own original fiction (with aro characters, of course), but it’s been due to this small start that I’ve decided that’s something I could realistically pursue.

How can the aro-spec community best help you as a creative?

Comments on my fics are one of the biggest things that keep me writing, so they’ll always be a boon to me. Even old ones. It makes me happy to see people still reading and enjoying them. Same goes for reblogs of any of my stuff – art, writing, filk, cosplay photos, anything else I might post. The biggest thing that keeps me wanting to create and share more creative works is knowing that other people are enjoying them, so if you do enjoy them, any way you can let me know that is wonderful.

I do hope that in some point in the future I’ll have original fiction available and a science writing blog (I consider non-fiction to be creative expression, as long as you’re putting your spark into it!), but neither exists quite yet. If you follow me on either of my main platforms though, those might pop up someday. Seeing either be circulated when the time comes would be massive. I also intend to, perhaps in the much nearer future, start publishing D&D content (likely homebrew 5e subclasses, but who knows) on the DMsGuild, starting with a pay-what-you-want model for downloading my content. If that goes up and I make something you’re interested in, and you want to pay something for it at all, I would be massively grateful.

Can you share with us something about your current project?

I’ve been working on a Critical Role Modern AU story since January or so that places heavy emphasis on the platonic relationships in the show (Percy and Keyleth’s is particularly dear to me, so they’re likely to get a fair bit of the spotlight) that’s my most current fandom fic.

I’m also tackling two ambitious cosplays at the moment, though the timeframe is making me wonder if I’ll actually pull either off. Especially given what I need to get done. One involves sewing pseudo-historical menswear, and I’m going to have to learn how to make armor for the other one. If I can figure it all out though, I’m really excited about them both!

Have you any forthcoming works we should look forward to?

Hopefully the next chapter of the CR fic, if I get hit with the inspiration (and motivation) to work on it soon. I also have another aromantic Luke Skywalker fic I really want to get down on paper at some point, though thus far it’s proven a little elusive.

My two big cosplay projects are Percy de Rolo (from Critical Role), which I intend to take to a local convention, and Erwyn, my own D&D character. I hope to do a photoshoot with the rest of the players as their own characters sometime late this summer.

As for art, I fully intend to keep drawing major or touching moments from my ongoing campaign, likely with much more frequency than any of the things above. It may not be as engaging for people to interact with as my fandom-focused projects are, but I still really do love sharing it.

[solo-trio]

High Significance (Ch. 2)

Words- 2.2 K

Warnings- Slight suggestive themes, Marijuana use, Marijuana mention, Angst

A/N- As I promised, here’s chapter 2! I’m moving to Japan tomorrow so it may be a bit before I post any new content but Please Enjoy!

The next morning you had hoped to talk to Kylo before he departed for the day. Hands shaky and sweat tickling your hairline, you sipped green tea in the kitchen. The calming effect the tea usually provided was overshadowed by your flickering mind. You finally heard a noise in the direction of his room and froze. He rushed out, only barely glancing at you. “Morning.” you just wanted to hear his voice at this point. 

“Morning,” he mumbled, gathering his coat and scarf off the rack near the door. 

“I made some tea for you.” The cup sat on the counter. Steam rising from rim as the smoke had from you yesterday. Kylo didn’t make any move to acknowledge it. 

“No thanks,” He mumbled while halfway out of the house. Your tears cascaded down your cheeks before the definitive slam of the door echoed through your abode that felt warmer without Kylo.  It was not the kind of warmth that you felt from the tea, the warmth that caressed your throat and blossomed in your chest, but rather an highly intense warmth, as if the lights in the kitchen had been magnified and every slimy and disgusting corner of you was exposed and you were alone because no one thought you were worth it. Your elbows grew sore as you stood numb, shoulders hunched, leaning against the granite.

The following week was the hardest your relationship had faced thus far. You quickly learned the dynamic between the four of you when the vibes surrounding were less than good. Ben and Matt had been kind but you could feel them receding their affections. There were less kisses, jokes, and smiling in general. Matt and Ben respected Kylo’s reluctance and you were glad they did. The brothers strong respect for each other is what helped this unique arrangement flourish. You had barely seen Kylo other than in the mornings when you strived to make things right. You threw yourself into work not being able to take the other siblings slight coldness also. Your superiors all commented on your impressive dedication but less than presentable appearance. The nights that you had spent crying alone in your room had manifested on your face in dark circles and a splotchy complexion. 

 Throughout the days that dragged on, Kylo’s anger had converted into pity and guilt. Seeing you trying everything to keep him melted his heart, as your respect for his space also had. Late at night he went sleepless, wishing to feel purpose as he caged you in his hold. He imagined you banging his door down to demand an end to his stupidity before he apologized, kissed you, and reminded you how devoted he was. A small noise deep in the night would break him out of his contemplating. Straining to listen, he realized it was sobbing he had heard, coming from you. He covered his face with his large hands attempting to avoid crying with you. He hated himself after he closed the door on you morning after morning, the regret growing nearer to unbearable. You had lied though. That simple fact shook him to the core. Kylo loved how being with you was unfiltered and without agenda. The betrayal wretched his mind to the possibilities of what else he didn’t know about the girl he held above all. He was blowing it out of proportion, he knew, but his emotions controlled him when something like this happened. 

 While you worked overtime, Ben and Matt waited at home for Kylo, who was also spending more time away from home than usual. They laughed at the similarities between you two as they stood in the kitchen. They saw Kylo enter, sweep the room for you, then proceed upstairs. “Kylo,” Ben called out. Kylo proceeded upstairs without any indication of pausing. 2/3 of the Solo Organa triplets chased after their pouting sibling. Barging into his room, Ben and Matt couldn’t stand to see the flame of their happiness sputter because of Kylo’s stubbornness any longer. It was time for them to forgive, forget, and move on. “Kylo, What’s your deal? Is it really that significant that you don’t love her anymore?” Ben stood in Kylo’s room initiating the conversation they should’ve been hashed out days ago. 

“Of course not!,” Kylo looked down already willing to forgive her but wanting to present his troubles to his brothers just once in hopes that they’d understand, “but she lied and I gotta be honest it hurts.” His voice broke, just barely at the end, but Matt caught it. 

“I know Kylo. It’s hard for you to trust people.  But it’s not like that with her. She didn’t lie out of malice or deceit. What she does doesn’t hurt anyone. She’s been a gift and the fact that we’ve all had personal things come to light that she’s been very accepting of makes it really unfair that she’s getting judged for this right now.” Matt eloquently laid out what he and Ben had agreed upon from the first moment she had apologized. 

Kylo felt even more guilt. He knew that, of all three brothers, you had tried considerably to make him feel loved and accepted despite his very prominent flaws. This was the confrontation he needed, to finally get past his doubts and to put a quiet to his persistently hostile mind. He drew in a great amount of air, paused, and nodded. Ben patted him on the shoulder. 

“We’re glad bro. We love you and so does she.”

“Yeah. Thank you guys” Kylo, freed from the chains of paranoia, changed and waited impatiently for you come home. 

As you stripped out of your outer layers and ditched your black heels, you heard Ben and Matt talking in living room. You wandered in to see them playing video games together and joking around. A smile grew on your features for the first time since the incident. Matt glanced to the entrance of the den, feeling a presence. When he saw you, his eyes lit up from the excitement of getting to be as affectionate with you as he could now that Kylo was feeling better. Seeing Matt smiling so happily up at you filled your heart with gratefulness after the drought of attention from your thoughtful nerdy muffin of a boyfriend. He nudged Ben who eyes twinkled at you also. You felt tears of happiness sting your eyes. 

“Hiya babe. Welcome home,” he greeted. 

You giggled with cloudy vision. 

“Hi,” you responded. 

Matt mentioned something about snacks as he got up and headed for the kitchen. “I can get them for you,” you offered. He grabbed your arm as you turned and pulled you back to him. He dipped you and delivered a generous kiss to you lips, leaning you back slightly. You hugged him tightly as he kissed you and slowly brought you both back to vertical. 

“I got it beautiful. Why don’t you go change and we can figure out dinner.” He kissed your forehead and strode off. Your heart was humming in your chest as your skin burned where contact had been. You only thought of how happy you were that things were back to normal. On the brief journey to the stairs though, fear towards Kylo and your’s stance replaced your current delight . Would he be as kind today as Matt and Ben? Would he forgive you? Your hand connected to the railing and your feet proceeded one after another up the carpeted steps. 

“Welcome home.” A voice yanked you from your thoughts and to the second floor. There Kylo stood with a warm smile aimed at your climbing figure. Hearing more than two words from him broke you down. His smile blasted away all your hesitation and fear of rejection. You would do anything to keep that smile and the man it belonged to. The sounds of your stomps now propelling you up the stairs echoed through the stairwell as tears leaked from you. You threw yourself into his arms, clutching to him as much as your strength would allow. There was nothing but your need for him. “Please Kylo I’m so sorry. I love you so much. I’m so sorry I lied to you. Please don’t hate me. I’m so sorry Kylo. It’ll never happen again.” You sobbed into his chest. His own eyes unable to hold back a few tears as relief crashed into him, each wave more liberating. He encircled you with his sturdy arms and relished getting to hold you once more. He now felt complete. Kissing your cheeks, temples and forehead, he apologized himself. 

“I’m so sorry for being such a dick. I forgive you. I love you,” he whispered to you. You lifted your head and pulled back slightly only to give your hand room against his cheek. You missed everything about the way he felt. He drew you back in to the closest proximity possible and deeply kissed you. You refused to let him go even after you both had to catch your breath. 

“Sweet girl,” he growled. You kissed repeatedly on the second floor platform until they grew desperate,hungry and he whisked you to his room where you voiced your love for each other in breathy confessions and choked praises. 

You laid with him in his bed, wrapped in his arms. You ran your hands through his dark hair, sighing happily while feeling the silky strands flow through your grasp. You rested against his chest as he did your favorite thing and ran his fingertips gently across your bare back. You lengthened you neck to kiss him hard. “We should go down. They’re probably getting hungry,” you suggested, pulling away. Kylo’s stomach, as if on cue, rumbled and he looked away as a blush exploded on his cheeks. You giggled, kissed over his stomach and rolled out of bed. He groaned at having to relinquish his much-needed time with you. You threw a T-shirt of his on and assured him you’d be waiting downstairs for him. “I expect more make up time” he grumbled. You rolled your eyes at his adorable neediness and clasped his hand to venture to the first floor.

You, Ben and Matt were drawing up a list of dinner options. You just waited on Kylo for his input. He leaned against a wall and you questioned what he was craving. At this moment, a thought popped into his head. There was no reason to it but wanting to show you he really was sorry and willing to reserve judgment. He would’ve never even considered it before, but he admitted to himself that everything he did with you was fun and memorable and opened himself up. 

“I think we should smoke then order pizza. I hear it’s good,” he suggested as he would’ve ordering Chinese or cooking. The three at the island’s mouths and eyes immediately gaped open.

“Dude your kidding, right?” Ben tried to rationalize what he thought he heard Kylo say. 

“No, I want to try it” Kylo replied in his usual serious tone. You moved to have somewhat of a private conversation with him as Ben and Matt stood baffled. 

“Kylo are you sure? I don’t want you to feel pressured to do anything you’re against.” you voiced your worry at his sudden eagerness to partake in the activity that just threw your relationship for a spin. 

“You like it right? And plus, if I’m going to be so against it I might as well experience it for myself right?” His explanation made sense, so you nodded and turned to the other two. 

“Are you guys cool with that?” you inquired. 

“Family smoke sesh!!” Ben yelled enthusiastically as Matt nodded contently. 

 You packed a bowl and all sat on the balcony. Kylo whispered in your ear how he only wanted to do it if you were on his lap the whole time. You comfortably positioned yourself against his cool body and clicked the lighter awake to take the first hit. You laughed as you got high, tried to teach Kylo how to smoke, and witnessed each of your boyfriends cough wildly on separate hits. You snuggled Kylo as the evening wind caressed your skin, encouraging goosebumps. “I love you.” You rested your head on his shoulder as you watched two of your favorite things come together. Kylo expelled the smoke in a slow way letting it thicken before releasing it. You wondrously watched the mass stretch towards the sky until it disappeared. Kylo kissed your head and passed you the pipe. You became hypnotized as you shot gunned each of the boys. Watching them exhale the smoke they gathered from your lips made you inexplicably happy and a good deal aroused. While they teased you for being a giddy dork, the doorbell rang. Matt got the pizza and you all scrambled in to get a bite. You looked at Kylo as he downed a slice. 

“It’s really good.” He rolled his eyes at everyone waiting for a reaction. 

You popped in a movie and did your best to cuddle with all three of them. They separately whispered needy praises in your ear before your night took a turn for the better. Smoking with the boys was definitely something you’d be doing more often. 

[douchebagbrainwaves]

THEY DON'T PROJECT ANY KIND OF AURA OF POWER EITHER

With a property management company, you can probably keep a few things back from them. The distributors want to prevent the transparency that comes from having prices online. Instead of working at an ordinary rate for 40 years, you work like hell for four. What is it about you that they love? A company that an angel is willing to put $50,000 into at a valuation of a million can't take $6 million from VCs at that valuation. But they might as well be from a venture investor's point of view, that there probably wouldn't be a compliment in most organizations to call someone scrappy.1 This is what you think about as you fall asleep at night and when you talk to them about what they needed. The dating sites are running big ad campaigns right now, which is a well established field, but the first papers about Bayesian spam filtering per se seem to have been a prudent choice—a consensus decision, rather than admitting they changed their minds. Maybe if you can choose when you raise money, you don't need them.

Trying to make masterpieces in this medium must have seemed to Durer's contemporaries that way that, say, the hundredth. There are plenty of other areas that are just as valuable as positive ones. Another way to find good problems to solve in one head. What is it about you that they love? Most founders have such low standards that they'll feel rich with a sum that doesn't seem to work very well. And yet the more successful people become, the more valuable it is to hack at home than at work? But if you inadvertantly squash the startup industry, all that happens is that the founders get rich.2 It feels that way for everyone. With a property management company, you can try to ride it.3

But if you have a number of VCs now, and it was through personal contacts that we got most of the time. But when you look at an incoming mail you find more people who love that sort of thing the eminent would want to put their name on. They'd charge a lot, but wouldn't it be worth it? Just make stuff and put it online. Stupid, perhaps, but not to tell them everything either. And the answer is a central list of domains advertised in spams.4 Now, thanks to the Internet, they can start to grow themselves actual audiences.

Why? A startup's destination is to grow really big; ramen profitability is the other extreme: a startup that succeeds ordinarily makes its founders rich, that implies that in every other respect you've succeeded.5 But of course there are cases where writers don't want to be running out of money and b they don't understand, a lot of people who go from one to the other and never realize the whole world doesn't work this way. They're like dealers; they sell the stuff, but they can't have looked good on paper.6 This is called seed capital. But the superficial ugliness of Perl is not the end of it, and we won't have to work.7 A morale boost on that scale is very valuable, actually. With some emails it's hard to imagine a more perfectly targeted counterattack on spammers. And in fact, investors greatly prefer it if you don't want their money, because a he won't waste any time in meetings, and b since he's probably a founder, he can pay himself nothing.

So now there are two threshold values. If VCs are frightened at the idea of taking this rival firm's rejects. If there are two ways to win.8 But focus has drawbacks: you don't learn from other fields, and when a new approach arrives, you may find you no longer have such a burning desire to be an expert in business.9 Empirically that doesn't seem to work very well. You could do it for you. If the answer is yes, and you don't get that kind of work; one day you'll miss it. I found I could entertain myself by having ideas instead of reading other people's.

At first we expected our customers to be Web consultants. Ideas for startups are worth something, certainly, but the pool allowed to write on general topics was about eight people who went to the right parties in New York. When there is a step beyond thinking of yourself as x but tolerating y: not even to consider yourself an x. For us the main indication of impending doom is when we don't hear from you. I expect spam to evolve into: some completely neutral text followed by a url. But your goal here wasn't to provide a service estimating people's ability. There are several types of investors. The potential of a new medium is usually underestimated, precisely because no one has yet explored its possibilities.10 They need to market themselves to the investors who are their customers—the endowments and pension funds and rich families whose money they invest. It's still not feasible for a lot of people: they're dealmakers.11 Since the IPO market.12

Notes

Which means if you're flying through clouds you can't do much that anyone feels when that partner re-tells it to them rather than trying to make money, then add beans don't drain the beans, and intelligence, it's ok to talk to corp dev guys should be working on some project of your own compass. This is actually from the rest of the most famous example. Something similar happens with suburbs. Which is fundraising.

One of the art business? For the computer world, and Windows, respectively. It was revoltingly familiar to anyone who had made Lotus into the subject today is still hard to grasp this than we realize, because any invention has a spam probabilty of. Org Worrying that Y Combinator.

His best bet would probably also the fashion leaders. So far, I put it here. It's somewhat sneaky of me to do with the guy who came to mind was one of these people.

I have so far done a pretty comprehensive view of investor quality. Unless of course some uncertainty about how closely the remarks attributed to them till they also influence one another both directly and indirectly. In Russia they just don't make an effort to make art that does.

And in any other field, and stonewall about the nature of an FBI agent or taxi driver or reporter to being told they had zero effect on college admissions there would be a lot, or editions with the Supreme Court's 1982 decision in Edgar v. This prospect will make grad students' mouths water, but there are none in San Francisco, LA, Boston, and would not be true that being part of the best case.

You should take more than clumsy efforts to protect their hosts. A fundraising is because those are guaranteed in the future as barbaric, but less than the previous round.

One implication of this essay, I should do is adjust the weights till the Glass-Steagall act in 1933. Some would say we depend on closing a deal led by a factor of 20. The other cause is the unpromising-seeming startups are often surprised by this, though. A good programming language ought to be discovered.

Y Combinator in particular made for other kinds of startups is very polite and b made brand the dominant factor in the country. And even then your restrictions would have met 30 people he knew. They have no idea what's happening till they also influence one another indirectly through the window for years while they may have been a good deal for the same way a restaurant as a type II startups won't get you a question you don't need that much to say that YC's most successful founders is exaggerated now because of some brilliant initial idea. Cit.

Though Balzac made a bet: if he ever made a general term might be enough, a day job is one resource patent trolls need: lawyers. Wolter, Allan trans, Duns Scotus: Philosophical Writings, Nelson, 1963, p.

More generally, it will thereby expose it to profitability, you can't, notably ineptitude and bad luck. In 1800 an empty plastic drink bottle with a million spams. On the other sheep head for a while we have to rely on cold calls and introductions. Once he showed it could change what you're doing is almost pure discovery.

And since there are some VCs who don't aren't. Financing a startup to duplicate our software. No, we met Aydin Senkut.

Some find they have to. The closest we got to the frightening lies told by older siblings.

[magicofthepen]

Gallifrey Relisten: A Blind Eye

The end of Series 1! (I will admit I had to stop myself from immediately jumping into Lies because that’s when things really get going for me.) Some thoughts:

Mentions of/spoilers for: Neverland, Zagreus, Spirit, Insurgency, Enemy Lines, the Time War audios (but in a vague way).

Romana announces her name and title and then immediately follows that up with “I want no record of my being here” lol.

This episode is the closest we get to “everyone has to dress up fancy for an event” and it’s a shame we don’t get more of this! I would love more off-world and/or dress up episodes that are less......dire probably isn’t the right word because there’s some heavy things going on in this episode...maybe frantic? There is definitely a difference between the degree of tension in A Blind Eye and the degree of tension in the off-world episodes in Time War, for instance. (Also A Blind Eye has more banter.) I’m pretty sure it’s just A Blind Eye and Spirit that capture this sense of “we’re going to do something different for an episode” and I like it! (I feel like this is part of my ongoing push for a post-Enemy Lines, pre-Time War series of misc. CIA missions and shenanigans. Please someone just shove more side adventures into gaps in the timeline.)

The banter! The banter. (“You have your business face on. / You’re a transtemporal crook Arkadian, meeting you could never be a pleasure.”) 1. Arkadian is a supremely entertaining villain, and 2. he’s a tremendously good villain opposite Romana specifically, purely for snark and banter reasons.

I was never a big fan of the Sissy Pollard portrayal — the character’s personality feels too....exaggerated? Over the top? And not in an effective or interesting way.

Romana’s defense of Charley is actually quite sweet, given that they weren’t super friendly in Neverland/Zagreus.

Romana chastises Leela for careless talk, but uhhh if you wanted to keep things subtle and not reveal anything, maybe don’t have Leela suddenly grab Sissy?

“Madam, the Alps are in the other direction.” “Are they? Damn.” / “Be careful, you’ll break it!” “I’ll break you in a minute.” Truly, maximum levels of scathing Romana snark in this episode. 

I have never seen anyone mention this, so I always assumed I’m not hearing it right, but....when the original!timeline train is about to crash into them....does Romana tell Narvin to fuck off?

Andred has a whole scene with no other Time Lord witnesses in which he could have told Leela the truth and yet.

“I am a Guard Commander of Gallifrey” apparently I never paid enough attention to what he actually said here because I think that was the first time I noticed that Andred gave his Chancellery Guard title, not his CIA title.

“Arkadian! You’ve met with that crook!?” Shoutout to Narvin for some A+ false indignation here.

I’m not sure there was a way to write a parallel between between real world Naziism and Leela’s fictional past without having it come off a bit as oversimplifying/cheapening the horrors of Nazi Germany. (But I’m white and raised Christian, so I’m also really not the person to be speaking in depth about the portrayal of Nazis in this episode.)

Does Arkadian know about Andred? I assume that he would just because he generally knows most things, but hmm it adds another layer.

Narvin is genuinely surprised when Romana gives in and agrees to leave lol.

Ms. Joy — it’s funny because we the listeners know that the one random character must be there for a reason, so it feels like the only reason the characters don’t know she’s suspicious is that they don’t know they’re in an audio drama episode and so she must be important to the plot.

Did Narvin really intend for Romana to go with “Torvald”? “At least he’s have been exposed?” Way to throw your President under the bus sir (although possibly he assumed that Torvald wouldn’t actually assassinate the President?)

“See, it is always a monster.” Wait, I take it back, Leela knows she’s in a Doctor Who (adjacent) episode.

“The only name in town where there’s temporal naughtiness to be done” — the Arkadian = Brax crack(?) theory is the most “I can’t unhear this” thing that’s happened to me since Narvin/Torvald. What is it with y’all and Series 1, I’m losing it. 

...does Andred have a plan when he lowkey kidnaps Romana or is he just panicking? He is quite genuinely pleading with Romana to go along with him into the TARDIS and sounds genuinely desperate. But then he seems to regain control and starts more tactically trying to persuade Romana to work along side him without giving her any real answers. Although really, he must know that he’s very close to discovery — maybe he wants to resolve the past!Torvald situation first? Or maybe he’s not thinking that far ahead?

“I have no paws.” Awww K9.

“I think you’re a bad President. I think you’ve willfully sacrificed Gallifreyan influence upon the altar of your own increasingly cranky liberal agenda.” 1. “increasingly cranky liberal agenda” is such a specific insult wow, 2. I can’t tell how much of this is Andred still trying to be Torvald and how much he actually means this? The politics of this incarnation of Andred were always a bit fuzzy to me, even in series 2.

Also. Any conversation between Romana and Andred has a whole weird vibe on relisten when you know about the uhhh future murdering that’s going to happen.

I do love a Dramatic Reveal, and this one is incredibly dramatic.

....does the train crash? Does the train not crash? I’ve always been a bit confused about what happens in that moment — I assume Romana doesn’t actually plan on the train hitting the TARDIS, and we hear the TARDIS dematerialize so I think the train is fine? But it’s a weirdly ambiguous sound/end of scene.

“I can tell you are lying. It’s when your lips move.” Okay Leela snarking at Arkadian is also very good.

It is genuinely so interesting how connected this plot is to Neverland/Zagreus — if I had to pick one “you should listen to this audio before Gallifrey” I'd go for the Apocalypse Element because of the enormous ripples it casts in terms of Romana’s characterization (and also it’s more stand alone), but I imagine this episode would be particularly confusing without Neverland/Zagreus? (Would be curious to hear people’s experiences.)

“I never lie!” Romana, that’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told. 

The narration of what happened to Andred by Andred and Romana is um. It’s a little bit obviously an info dump for the listener, but I’m not sure it’s the best way for Leela to find out? I mean, hearing the context and explanation probably was a better idea than just “oh btw I’m Andred”.....possibly this felt weird to me because of the acting? It’s very emotionally detached, very “so this is what happened” — Andred manages some emotion afterwards when he’s pleading with Leela but uh. He could have sounded more apologetic here.

Leela. Leela. “You have watched me suffer and worn my enemy’s clothes?” / “The man that I loved is dead.” Goddddd I want to give her a hug so much ughhhhh. Leela just goes through so many awful things throughout....all of Gallifrey actually, and she still remains such a good person with such a genuinely caring heart......give her a break please.

“I think the only person who’d actually benefit from a temporal war would be a...dealer in arms? A trader in secrets? A fixer and a fiddler. A dishonest broker with no scruples and no shame.” / “An interesting theory Madam. Prove it.” I just really like the delivery of this bit. Although: I realize there were several things going on at this point, but really, they just let Arkadian walk away at the end?

And thus ends Series 1. It has some highs and lows but it honestly ranks near the bottom on my constantly-in-flux list of favorite-to-least favorite Gallifrey series. (Weapon of Choice is probably the only episode I actively look forward to relistening to?) I said in my Weapon of Choice post that Series 1 was a nice “palate cleanser” after Apocalypse Element and the Charley arc through Zagreus, and that was true for the first time listening, but I think some of those same attributes mean I’m kinda meh about relistening to it. It just doesn’t hold my interest quite as much as many of the other series. (Series 2 though....👀)

EDIT: I realized I forgot to tell my personal story of my first time listening to the Andred reveal, and I wanted to have some record of that, even if I don’t quite remember the specifics of my reaction. In general, my first listen of Gallifrey was shaped by knowing a lot of major spoilers, which is what happens when you spent a lot of time lurking on Tumblr blogs in advance of listening to the series. (It actually led to a lot of super fascinating experiences of “well I know X happens, but I don’t know how or why” and being really curious to find out how X played out.)

So I knew something about Andred and Torvald going in, and I think I should have known that it was simply Torvald = Andred, but somehow I got it in my head that oh no, no it’s weirder and more complicated than that. But of course there are a lot of hints throughout series 1 that Torvald is Andred, so the first listen was this cycle of me going “I think maybe Torvald is just Andred? Nah, it’s going to be more convoluted than that. But no really, it makes sense that Torvald is Andred...” etc. etc. So it was a weird experience of knowing pretty early on that Torvald might be Andred, but still not being quite sure until the end of series one. The other bit of this is that I can’t remember at what point I knew that Andred died (and how) — I think I may have known he died before I listening to Gallifrey (or at the very least I knew that he was written out in some way or another earlier on), so that may have also confused me further re: the series one question of: what actually happened to Andred? All around, an odd experience of “I was spoiled...but somehow I still wasn’t sure what was going on” and I wasn’t surprised per se but it was still a reveal. 

Next Episode Reaction: Lies

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[preservationandruin]

Oathbringer Liveblog, Part Four: Chapters 108-111

Onward with our various plotlines in various Planes of Existence!

Shadesmar Road Trip continues, Dalinar arranges a meeting, Azure bids the group farewell (and also I’m still in love with her), Dalinar meets my Least Favorite Person In All Roshar, and then everything goes straight to hell while I scream constantly. 

An epigraph: 

Chemoarish, the Dust-mother, has some of the most varied lore surrounding her. The wealth of it makes sorting lies from truths extremely difficult. I believe she is not the Nightwatcher, contrary to what some stories claim. 

So that’s interesting. I remember thinking back in my book 1 reread that “dustmother” might be a reference to Cultivation, but looks like I’m wrong. Anyway, back to the honorspren ship! Apparently the humans were kept in the hold for a week, and when Kaladin tried to argue the honorspren into letting Syl out he got locked in for another two days. 

Of course he did. 

He’s trying to plan them a way off the ship--getting off when it’s closest to Thaylen City, then making for the Oathgate. Not going to be easy, as Shallan thinks. She’s also drifting between personalities, and Kaladin’s fuckin ended up growing a beard again. Kaladin’s attempts to remain clean-shaven in this book seem doomed to failure. 

The honorspren are, still, bound by honor--they can’t keep Shallan and the others imprisoned, because they did nothing wrong. it wouldn’t be right. But they don’t know what to do with them. Shallan’s starting to get familiar with dealing with the beads of Shadesmar, but Veil keeps peeking through into her main persona, which worries her. 

Notum, the head of the honorspren on the ship, has confirmed that the Voidspren are trying to create an empire in Shadesmar. Azure got her sword back--because it doesn’t have a bond or an enslaved Spren, they’re fine with it. Still, Azure warns the honorspren she’s talking to to draw the sword slowly--”she doesn’t know you.” 

So it probably is a Blade similar to Nightblood, although with a different command-phrase, I expect. Kaladin and Azure start arguing--she wants to go to Lasting Integrity, to try to get to Cultivation’s Perpendicularity and see what the honorspren know about the person she’s hunting--who I’ll bet is Zahel, although might not be. Kaladin stalks off onto the high deck. Azure says that it’s a weapon that she’s chasing, so it’s almost certainly Nightblood. 

Shallan glanced toward the high deck, where she could faintly hear Kaladin making a disturbance.

Never change, Kal. 

Anyway, Shallan’s drawings of herself are going strange, too--she’ll draw one head on another body, and such. 

“Shallan?” Adolin asked, coming over to her. “Are you all right?”  She shook herself. How long had she been sitting there? “I’m fine,” she said. “Just...remembering.” “Good things or bad?”  “All memories are bad,” she said immediately, then looked away, blushing. He settled down next to her. Storms, his overt concern was annoying. She didn’t want him worrying about her. “Shallan?” he asked.  “Shallan will be find,” she said. “I’ll bring her back in a moment. I just have to recover...her...”  Adolin glanced at the fluttering pages with the different versions of her. He reached out and hugged her, saying nothing. Which turned out to be the right thing to say.  She closed her eyes and tried to pull herself together.  “Which one do you like the most?” She finally asked. “Veil is the one who wears the white outfit, but I’m having trouble with her right now. She peeks out sometimes when I don’t want, but won’t come when I need her. Radiant is the one who practices with the sword. I made her prettier than the others, and you can talk to her about dueling. But some of the time, I’ll have to be someone who can Lightweave. I’m trying to think of who she should be...”  “Ash’s eyes, Shallan!”  “Shallan’s broken, so I’m trying to hide her. Like a cracked vase, where you turn the nice side toward the room, hiding the flaw. I’m not doing it on purpose, but it’s happening, and I don’t know how to stop it.” 

So first of all, this is horrible for Shallan--she’s so lost that she’s actually talking to Adolin about it, asking which version of her he likes most, and I’m so glad he’s hugging her through this. This is what I’ve been wanting to happen--Shallan actually being open with someone, admitting that she’s a lot more broken than she pretends to be. 

And as if that wasn’t enough of what I wanted, the other big thing I’ve been wanting to happen also happens: 

“I...” he pulled her tight again as the ship rocked. “Shallan, I killed Sadeas.”  She blinked, then pulled back and looked him in the eyes. “What?”  “I killed Sadeas,” Adolin whispered. “We met in the corridors of the tower. He started insulting Father, talking about the terrible things he was going to do to us. And...and I couldn’t listen anymore. Couldn’t stand there and look at his smug red face. So...I attacked him.”  [...] Shallan shivered, then whispered, “Good for you.” 

I’M SO GLAD THESE TWO ARE TALKING ABOUT SOME OF THEIR MANY, MANY ISSUES AND STARTING TO BE MORE OPEN AND HONEST. 

Anyway, Adolin says that he likes the real Shallan--the vase is cracked, but that just lets him see what’s inside, and he likes what’s inside. There’s a moment, there, where Shallan is comfortable. Warm. Unafraid. 

And then Kaladin causing problems on the upper deck ruins it. He’s arguing with the captain. Again. 

When you try to explain that god is dead but are talking to a depressed agnostic who really doesn’t give a shit: 

“The honorspren were created by Honor himself, many thousands of years ago. You call him the Almighty, and...I’m afraid he’s dead.”  “Which makes sense, as it’s pretty much the only excuse I would have accepted.”  “That wasn’t levity, human,” Notum said. “Your god is dead.”  “Not my god. But please continue.” 

Anyway, Kal calls Notum out pointing out that both keeping Syl captive and killing Kaladin--which he mentions as a way to get rid of the bond--would go against Honor. 

And as he thinks, as he ponders the Fourth Ideal, noting that he’s worried what it’ll demand of him, small pinpricks of light start spinning around him, almost like spren--but not spren, because spren here are closer to people. And then he hears Syl’s voice in his head, and they start talking. 

Syl claims that she escaped the Honorspren trait of stubbornness, which is. A lie. 

Ok, so the light-prick things are windspren that Kaladin is somehow drawing. Also, he tells Notum that Dalinar, who Kaladin is trying to save, is bonded to Stormfather--and realizes he probably should have said that sooner. 

Adolin notes that it’s kind of hard to compete with Kaladin, who is currently dramatically posed, trailing a halo of windspren, and is just like. he doesn’t even know he’s doing this, is he. 

And then, of course, the Fused start coming for them. 

Re-Shephir, the Midnight Mother, is another Unmade who appears to have been destroyed at Ahareitiam. 

Ok, so we can’t trust any reports of them being destroyed, ‘cause we know Shephir came back. 

We’re over to Dalinar, in any case. He and Navani are still trying to figure out how the hell Urithiru works. It has garnet veins running through it. I still think it’s interesting how Radiants find it easy to get around, but other people are baffled. They’ve gotten confirmation that the Voidbringers are building a navy--probably to start harrying the shores, as Dalinar suspected. 

Anyway, Dalinar is going to try to bring someone--the one of the Voidbringers that Stormfather can sense--into a highstorm vision. Please, please work. Venli needs to know she and Timbre have other options. 

Plus, if anyone can understand feeling like the wrong sibling lived and the wrong sibling died, if anyone knows their own stupid, stupid actions tearing their loved ones away from them...it would be Dalinar. 

Unfortunately, Odium has noticed that Dalinar is starting a vision. Dalinar gets Stormy to try to hold him off so that Dalinar can speak with Venli. Venli is startled and bitter, but notes that here, she can use the old rhythms--so Odium hasn’t concentrated on her. Yet. 

Also Venli is currently taller than Dalinar and I love tol Parshendi ladies. Just a note. Odium starts battering at the vision. Venli starts running--trying to avoid Odium, knowing what he’ll do if he sees her talking to Dalinar. 

She turned away, desperate to do what she could to delay her own burning. Then...she stopped and looked back again. Dalinar Kholin stood on the balcony. And he was glowing.  Neshua Kadal. Radiant Knight.  Without meaning to, she attuned the Rhythm of Awe. Around Kholin, the balcony was stable. Boards trembled and quivered at his feet, but did not move into the sky. The balcony had ripped apart to either side of him, but where he held to it with a firm grip, it remained secure. 

Dalinar is literally holding this vision together despite Odium’s force. It actively starts reknitting itself. 

Venli tries to leave, and Odium comes for her again--she’s clinging to the balcony, not wanting to let go, and then sees Timbre, fighting through the wind and the vision to get to her. Have I mentioned I love Timbre because I love Timbre. Venli manages to grab it out of the air, and feels warm as Timbre basically yells “THANK YOU” in Timbre-speak, which is just a pulse of Rhythm of Praise. 

And then she’s falling into a bottomless chasm, and Dalinar jumps to save her--and shoot her out of the vision before Odium burns it to shreds. She lands in Marat, and she and Timbre are safe. 

Dalinar, on the other hand, is in excruciating pain. Odium gives his little “ohh I care about you, Dalinar,” speech again, then Dalinar returns to Urithiru. 

Stormfather is weeping from pain and exertion. 

The most powerful spren on Roshar--embodiment of the tempest that shaped all life--was crying like a child, whispering that Odium was too strong.

HEY BRANDON CAN I HUG STORMFATHER

Anyway, we head back to Shallan and Shadesmar. They’re getting let go--but the Fused are still on their tail. Notum notes that they need to hurry--he can’t promise how long the crew can keep their secret. Syl is more than a little pissed at Notum. Azure is staying with the crew, saying she’ll help them try to fight off the Fused. That...increases their chances considerably. 

“When you boys next meet the swordsman who taught you that morning kata, warn him that I’m looking for him.”  “Zahel?” Adolin said. “You know Zahel?”  “We’re old friends.” 

And then she confirms with the captain that they were cutting cloth into specific shapes. Oh boy, those Fused are about to get a nasty surprised. They’re expecting a ship full of honorspren; they’re getting that, but they’re also getting a practitioner of BioChroma who trained with one of the best. 

The gang basically hides in a Shallan-made cave under the water. They manage to survive, and Shallan wants to draw the trees in Shadesmar. There’s a highstorm happening in the real world--this must be happening pretty much concurrently with the Dalinar moment, then. They’re almost to Thaylen City. 

Back over to Dalinar, opening with the MOST RELATEABLE SECTION THE BOOK: 

Dalinar stepped out of the Oathgate control building into Thaylen City and was met by the man he most wanted to punch in all Roshar.  Meridas Amaram stood straight in his House Sadeas uniform, clean-shaven, narrow-faced, square-jawed.

In case anyone is keeping score: I still hate Amaram. He fuckin thinks that they’re going to being invading Thaylen City, because god forbid anyone do anything good without an ulterior motive, am I right???

“Permission to stab him a little, sir,” said Teft,  the bridgeman leader.  “How do you stab someone ‘a little,’ soldier?”  “I could do it,” Lyn said. “I’ve only started training with the spear. We could claim it was an accident.”  “No,no,” Lopen said. “You want to stab him a little? Let my cousin Huio do it, sir. He’s the expert on little things.”  “Short joke?” Huio said in his broken Alethi. “Be glad not short temper.”  “I’m just trying to involve you, Huio. I know that most people overlook you. It’s very easy to do, see...” 

I fucking love bridge four so much like here we get: A) they still to a man hate Amaram B) Lyn is already ride-or-die enough to offer to stab a highprince C) they instantly lift the mood of any situation through teasing and bullshit jokes

Navani is very smug about the success of her arm-clock fabrial in getting Dalinar to be on time or early to things and this is still my favorite tiny running gag. We also get that Fen’s son has spiked his Thaylen-long eyebrow hair, leading me to declare this man a punk icon. 

They’ve left running the Oathgate to Malata, which--given that she’s working for Taravangian--might be a problem. Oh well. Renarin is wondering if there are any larger gemstones in the city, other than spheres; when asked why, he just says “because.” 

Someone might be either planning something or getting another future-vision. 

We get that the only reason Stormfather is alive is because Odium doesn’t want to expose himself to a strike from Cultivation. So, even in her retreated state, the thought of her attack is still an effective deterrant for Odium. Good to know. I think her retreat might only be partially grief-driven; I think that also, in her mind, the way for Roshar to grow was for it to learn to live without active gods. 

I mean, what if she was active and they relied on her, and then Odium killed her like he did Honor? That would be devastating. This way, they learn to stand on their own. Their growth is their own. 

That’s just a hypothesis, though. 

We get that the Nightwatcher isn’t Cultivation, although Dalinar has met Cultivation herself. The Nightwatcher is one of Stormy’s siblings--the third Stormy refers to with “they” pronouns and refuses to tell Dalinar about, saying “Leave them alone. You hurt them enough.” 

I don’t know who this slumbering nonbinary wounded third godspren is but i love them. 

“Did he...care about what we felt?” Dalinar asked. “Honor, the Almighty? Did he truly care about men’s pain?”  He did. Then, I didn’t understand why, but now I do. Odium lies when he claims to have sole ownership of passion. Stormfather paused. I remember...at the end...Honor was more obsessed with oaths. There were times when the oath itself was more important than the meaning behind it. But he was not a passionless monster. He loved humankind. He died defending you. 

YES. Tanavast didn’t deserve the slander Rayse was spreading about him. Yes, I am very protective of Tanavast, and no, I’m not sure why. 

Taravangian says that Dalinar can call him Vargo. I think someone is feeling more and more guilty. 

“I am...I am well, today.” He stopped and squeezed his pale grey eyes shut. “That’s good, isn’t it?”  “Yes. But it is not a day to be heartless. So I worry.” 

This does not bode well for literally anything ever.

Oh no, Dalinar is also looking forward to the meeting, which means that you know something is going to go horribly wrong. 

Anyway, things are starting out well. Queen Fen’s son is making a point to talk with Renarin and engage him in conversation, which is good. Lift is perched on a windowsill near Bridge Four, and somehow Bridge Four has actually gotten two scribes--perhaps the women that some of the members were courting. They’re becoming a real platoon, while still being a ragamuffin crew of bros. 

Dalinar keeps hearing unite them in his head, but Stormy says he’s not saying anything. You know how I totally distrust all voices in people’s heads that don’t have a source? Even though this is literally Dalinar’s catchphrase, I’m on edge. 

I just...don’t trust when things are going well in these books. And we know that Taravangian is planning to undercut Dalinar. He’s probably going to do it now. Fuck. Fuck. 

The Azish fleet is only a day away, and there’s no sign of a Voidbringer advance. They might wait for a Everstorm, though. Amaram’s troops have been carousing, and he’s a bit pissed at that. 

He wants his image to be cleaner than that. Well, too fucking bad, asshole. 

Renarin looked very uncomfortable and just excused himself, so that means something bad is definitely going to happen. I’m going with my instincts, which say “trust the one kid who can see into the future.” 

And then Stormfather says that a storm is coming. 

Oh, fuck. That’s the Everstorm. it just hit Shinovar. Navani and Jasnah are distracted, reading through something. Stormfather says that that won’t be everything--there’s more coming. 

A passage of the Dawnchant, called the Eila Stele, has been translated by both the people in Jah Keved and those in Kharbranth. 

...Taravangian was talking about leaking something about the Dawnchant....

Oh, god. Oh, oh god. 

The original Voidbringers weren’t Parshendi. 

They were human. 

Fuck. So many things make sense. Why Roshar’s mythology is a refugee narrative. They say that humans were exiled from the Tranquiline Halls, and that’s why they went to Roshar. This gels with that. The Dawnsingers, the original inhabitants of Roshar--

Dawnsingers. Fuck, how didn’t I see it before? Dawnsingers. Of course they were Singers, parshmen. They welcomed humans, and that welcome destroyed them. it was in the name. How did I think that Dawnsingers would be human? Only one race in this world is tied to songs. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. This will kill morale. 

And that’s the truth that destroyed the Radiants. Humanity destroyed its previous world with Surgebinding. 

At the same time, the news about Dalinar being “highking” has been raised. And that he had a Vision where he talked to Odium. Lift reacts to that. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Jasnah immediately picks up on the fact that someone leaked this deliberately. 

These three pieces of information: that humans are the original invaders, that Dalinar talked with Odium, and that Elhokar wanted to make Dalinar an Emperor. 

That’s what Taravangian is using to destabilize the alliance. 

[dudence-blog]

Dear Dudence for 16 October 2017

Hope everyone had a great weekend.  There were some leftover margaritas from a party we threw and I’m not one to let them go to waste.  So with frozen slushy goodness in a salt-rimmed glass to power me through, on the answering questions!  If you want your own alcohol-enhanced responses to your problems, big or small, email me at AskDearDudence@gmail.com ro join the fun at Facebook!

One of my closest friends - "Tina" - has been in a happy relationship with "Diane" for about a year. Tina and Diane have this very annoying habit of whispering to each other when we hang out. It doesn't matter if it's just the three of us, or if it's a large group. I'll be in the middle of a sentence saying something in conversation, and Tina and Diane will start whispering! I find this to be very rude and annoying. I don't think they are talking about me specifically, because they do it no matter who is talking. I honestly have no idea what they could be whispering about.

Dear Whispering Love Birds, they are whispering about what to make for dinner tonight, that those pants make your ass look fat, whether they’ll make it to the movie they bought tickets for already, and Tina is telling Diane that she is going to wreck her during their bang session when they get home.  It’s rude, but on the scale of “rude things people do casually” it’s not that bad.  If you can’t just live with it next time they do it during a conversation with say “I’m sorry, what was that?”, they’ll respond “Oh nothing, sorry,” and then the next time they’ll whisper about how nosey you’re being.  Let it go.

What's the classiest way to say "really and truly, DO NOT bring your kids into my house, no matter how cool or mature they are"? We have this problem where we throw nice grown up parties and our friends bring kids. We've tried to be nice. First we changed the names to identify the nature of the party--"Fancy Cocktail Hour," "Wine & Dine," etc. That helped, but didn't fix the problem. So we got direct and included "please--no kids" on the invitation. We STILL get a few people at every party who bring their kids. Because their kids are cool, their kids are mature, blah blah blah. The thing is... I don't care! It's my house and I don't want kids in it.

Dear How to Throw a Grown-Ups Only Party, make it clear on the invite that everyone will be throwing the car keys into a bowl at the entry way; a bowl of keys screams “Class!”  Honestly, if you want it to be adults-only, and you don’t want to risk someone bringing their child, you might be the one who needs to change.  First off, don’t say “please no kids” say “Adults only”.  It’s a subtle different, but an important one.  “Please no kids” is an ask “Adults only” is a tell.  Don’t invite people who have children, or stop inviting them after they violate the “no kids” rule.  Have your parties later in the evening or during the school week.  Don’t invite your breeder friends to your after-Thanksgiving dinner party.  It’s Thanksgiving, they’re with their kids and they’re not shelling out Holiday Babysitter rates.  That one is totally on you.  If none of these are acceptable to you, and you still want to party, you might just need to learn to embrace the suck.  It can be as simple as dedicating some other room as the kid room and banishing them to it, or coordinate for a neighbor to provide some babysitting/supervision for the kids.  Your friends are probably not setting out to provoke conflict, they honestly have forgotten that people without kids don’t always want them around, or they don’t think those rules you’re setting apply their perfect kids.  Ultimately “Your House, Your Rules,” if they can’t abide by it for a night every so often, that’s on them.  

Last week's false compliments LW has me writing in about this. I'm in a similar position where my boyfriend is not objectively good-looking, but he is so amazing of a person and partner that I'm attracted to him anyway. The problem is that some girls in our large friend group (who we're around a lot but aren't close to) think I'm better looking and loudly make fun of us during get-togethers: I must "REALLY like his personality," etc. Thorny banter is the norm for my friends, but this makes him sad and me angry

Dear He’s Pretty to Me, have you tried “he has the most beautiful cock and he bangs me in ways which make my toes curl,” because if you haven’t you might want to give it a go.  You could try telling a group of bullies (because that’s what the girls you’re describing are behaving like) that what they’re doing is mean and they should stop, which is what Newdie is suggesting, or you could try to shut them up by hitting them where it hurts.  You’re with a dude you like, who makes you happy, rub it in their faces how petty their comments are.

One of my closest friends - "Tina" - has been in a happy relationship with "Diane" for about a year. Tina and Diane have this very annoying habit of whispering to each other when we hang out. It doesn't matter if it's just the three of us, or if it's a large group. I'll be in the middle of a sentence saying something in conversation, and Tina and Diane will start whispering! I find this to be very rude and annoying. I don't think they are talking about me specifically, because they do it no matter who is talking. I honestly have no idea what they could be whispering about.

Dear Whispering Love Birds, they are whispering about what to make for dinner tonight, that those pants make your ass look fat, whether they’ll make it to the movie they bought tickets for already, and Tina is telling Diane that she is going to wreck her during their bang session when they get home.  It’s rude, but on the scale of “rude things people do casually” it’s not that bad.  If you can’t just live with it next time they do it during a conversation with say “I’m sorry, what was that?”, they’ll respond “Oh nothing, sorry,” and then the next time they’ll whisper about how nosey you’re being.  Let it go.

I recently showed my friend a pic of my daughter and her boyfriend.  Her only comment was "he's SO dark!"  (He is a different race from her.) I was stunned and didn't know what to say.  Since then, her comment has been really bothering me by how insensitive and racist it was.  Is this a deal breaker for our friendship or forgive and forget?

Dear Stunned Silent, I’m assuming this friend doesn’t have a long history of making insensitive and racist comments. You know, you could ask her about it.  “Hey, the other day you remarked about how dark my daughter’s boyfriend was, what was up with that?”  “Oh, I’m sorry, I said ‘It is so dark’, why didn’t you use the flash on your camera?”  Maybe she was surprised your uggo daughter was going out with such a handsome guy but didn’t want to show you how surprised she could score someone that far out of her league, and focused on the first physical characteristic she noticed?  Maybe she thinks he looks like one of those brooding vampire types?  Or, you know, she starts ranting and raving about how your daughter is contributing to the downfall of western civilization through her miscegenation with the lesser races.  If she does that feel free to cut off the relationship.  But you’ll never know unless you actually ask her about it.

My boyfriend and I have been together for about 5 months and it's honestly the best, healthiest relationship I've ever been in. I am 31, he is 29. We've met friends/ families, said "I love you," and probably spend 4-6 evenings a week with each other. Both of our leases end this spring and I want to move in together. I am so nervous about broaching the topic; most likely because I'm terrified about messing things up if he doesn't want to or thinks it's too soon to discuss. I have to make a decision about re-signing my lease in January.

Dear When to Have The Talk, are you me writing in from the early 2000s?  Nevermind.  If both of your leases are expiring around the same time I guarantee your boyfriend has had the same thought.  That doesn’t mean it’s a good idea, but it does mean you’re not going to be bringing up a subject which isn’t also on his mind.  I would go ahead and suggest you have a serious discussion with yourself about whether this is a step you’re taking because you want to further integrate your life into his, or if it’s something you’re considering because it would help save money on rent.  I also guarantee it will be much easier if you both choose to keep your own place, decide to move in at a time of your own choosing without the artificial constraint of “Our leases are expiring!”  It will be much cheaper for one of you to get out of a lease than for both of you to realize you moved in before you were ready.

A friend was recently the victim of an online mob inspired by half truths and outright lies that rallied to seek revenge for a perceived slight.  It spread like wildfire from virtual to real life with calls for boycotts and threats of physical harm at her place of employment. I'm doing what I can to help her rebuild. My problem is that months later, I'm still angry with the friends and friends of friends who participated in spreading this. Social media gave me a peek inside the nastiness of those I once respected.

Dear When Friends are Social Media Shamers, pointing out that these folks were attacking and abusing someone because of a misconstrued Tweet or some comment on a wall stripped of any context would work if you’re dealing with people who have some sense of self-awareness, shame, or are capable of introspection.  Once you’re at the point where you’re tossing shit and piss at someone you’re dealing with a person who is a 50/50 shot of, then, turning on you for supporting the person they were attacking.  I am all for calling people out on such behavior, but do it fully aware they could just as easily turn on you and then, suddenly, some comment you made on a blog 5 years ago is proof-positive you are, literally, Hitler.  As for the potential hire, are you a NFL executive looking at back-up QB options?  Nevermind.  I’m assuming that “problematic history on social media” is something you could choose to not hire for.  Tell the folks you were disturbed by why and what about their behavior disturbed you.  The “Mean Girls” mobbing of people won’t stop until the people mobbing folks for slights way out of proportion to their offense suffer for their actions.  I wish you the best of luck, you’re fighting the good fight.

My father and mother had a very turbulent relationship throughout my childhood. They separated when I was thirteen but stayed married. I didn't see my father again until I was seventeen and went to live with him. Now we have a fairly good relationship, but we don't talk often.  Although I visit my mom often, our relationship is souring. We can't talk about anything without her bringing up my dad.

Dear My Mom is Still Hurt Over My Dad, NuPru is on-point here.  Whatever relationship issues your mom is having with your dad is something you can’t, and shouldn’t, be involved in.  It’s going to be a hard conversation for your mom because she’s going to think you’re being unfair to her, preferring your dad to her, and all sorts of other feelings.  But it is a situation you need to extricate yourself from.  It’s not good for you and it’s not helping herself.

I recently got an unexpected inheritance of a vast sum and I haven't told my long-term boyfriend about it yet. He is amazing. Attractive, attentive, fun, funny, and the complete package- but he is attached to a mother who treats him like dirt. Because my boyfriend isn't a sociopath or a druggie, he isn't worth anything to his mother. Her time and affection goes to his younger brothers who haven't kill anyone yet and that is the best I can say about them (in and out of jail, smoke weed all day, won't work, and are doted on by their mother). My boyfriend's father died while he was in his twenties but left his finances in good standing, except for his widow devoting herself to ruining her life in the name of her younger sons.

Dear Money & Love, oof… hard question time:  Where do you see your relationship with your boyfriend going?  Because right now, wherever it goes, it is going to be attached to a millstone in the form of his mother and brothers.  This is probably not an issue you’re going to be able to keep from your boyfriend for any appreciable length of time.  If you two have been together any length of time he’s eventually going to notice that your spending is a bit freer, your budget a bit less tight, or someone will mention that Uncle Moneybags left his nieces a sum of money.  He’s going to find out, it’s probably better he finds out from you.  So, after that conversation you need to have the harder one about his family and the fact he is in a destructive co-dependent relationship with his mother and brothers.  Just because you have some money now doesn’t mean he gets to put himself in dire financial straits saving his mom from her decisions.  It also doesn’t mean you become the Bad Guy who won’t let him continue being mom’s knight in shining armor.  If you and your boyfriend are going to go further as a couple you need (and you probably need to do this anyway) to insulate yourself from his family.  Also don’t pay off a depreciating asset like a car.  You’d probably have been better off investing the money you spent buying the car and then just taking the payment out of that; as long as the money’s growth out-paced the interest on the loans and fees for the investment you’d have come out ahead.  But I’m giving advice to strangers who don’t know I’m giving advice and doing it for free, so take my money advice for what that’s worth.  But I am right about you protecting yourself from your boyfriend’s destructive family.  

[julystorms]

For the positivity hour! Which you reblogged way back oh dear: talk about your crush

Oh, you mean my husband?? ♥♥♥

Neal and I met on April 22nd, 2003. He sent me an e-mail to encourage me about a ‘fic I was writing at the time. Now he’ll say, “It wasn’t something I’d ever done before but for some reason I just went ahead and did it.” I still have a copy of that e-mail, which he re-read this year and said was 'creepy as hell.’ “Why did you even reply?”

(The truth is that teenage me was like, Oooh my goddd a Boy is Speaking to me.)

It wasn’t always wonderful or happy for us. We had some really high highs and some serious lows. But here’s a bit of our history.

I shared a computer for the longest time in the family room with my three siblings and my parents. My sister and I were the two big users of the Internet back in the day, so we oftentimes fought for computer time. Neal and I would spend hours chatting on Yahoo!Messenger, but I e-mailed him primarily from the computer lab at school, where I had several classes (and could basically do whatever I wanted, since I was on-call tech support for the school).

Eventually we grew quite close and I started to sneak online to talk to him late at night. I got caught once, Christmas night no less, and had to lie about how I knew the password to our Internet... (My brother and I put a keylogger on the computer to find out what it was. I think I lied and said I checked the “save password” button...)

We met in person for the first time in August 2004. My parents & sister came with me to Wisconsin. It was the only vacation my parents ever took while I was living with them. And it wasn’t even for them! We started dating, but broke up after a little while when the distance factor clearly wasn’t working (and I refused to let him move to Ohio for me, paranoid that he’d end up resenting me if things didn’t work out well and knowing my parents wouldn’t let him live with us).

Fast-forward a ways and we dated on and off a couple other times. Pretty much every time we broke up it was my doing; I was too overwhelmed by My Own Issues to put any of myself into a relationship. One time he wanted to come and see me for my birthday and the thought made me want to be dead because I’d have to clean my apartment and I could barely make myself do anything at all. The thought of thoroughly cleaning everything pushed me to actually break up because I was incapable of communicating my problems with him; I didn’t even understand them myself at the time. (Hint: I was incredibly depressed, in a lot of physical pain, and could not accept how I looked anymore.) We dated again for a while my first year in college but I broke it off because I couldn’t juggle my own existence + schoolwork + commuting to school + being in a financial pit. It seemed stupid to try and add more to the pile, especially making room for someone else when I felt I didn’t even have enough room in there for me.

Finally, during my last year of college I proposed trying again. He was always the person I felt closest to. We were both still single and I thought it’d be stupid if we didn’t both get to make a real go of it together. One last hurrah, so to speak. We talked about it, struggled along together learning how to communicate, and we realized early on that something had to give. We talked about our options: he could move to Ohio, I could move to Wisconsin, we could both move somewhere entirely separate... But Ohio is a hellpit in this economy and he already had a pretty steady job in Wisconsin. Why start over when we might fall on our faces? We settled on Wisconsin and I moved up January 1st 2016.

It’s been rough, not gonna lie. Between us we have eight cats and we’ve had to learn a lot about each other. We’ve never been physically very close due to distance and I’m not a very physical person so it was interesting to get used to being in physical proximity to someone else on a regular basis. To make it worse, he was laid off the instant I moved here so we spent our first few months together...in each other’s faces 24/7. What a way to start things out lmao!

We worked through things, tried to be more openly communicative, and we��re still going strong. 14 years to the day after he sent that first e-mail, we were married in a ‘lil backyard ceremony at his brother’s house. 

And look, it’s amazing that we’ve made it this far, but I don’t want people getting the wrong idea, thinking that just because we were married means all the other problems we have just fell away. They didn’t. They’re still here. We’re still trying to work through them. And you know what? That’s okay. There will always be problems, hurdles, the next big thing around the corner. We’re thinking about what it would mean for us to start a family. We’d like a bigger place to live in a couple of years. We have projects that need to be completed around the house and lack the time to actually complete them. In every relationship there’s always something to discuss, to think about, to consider.

I always felt he was special from that first e-mail. Yeah, teenage me was just excited a boy was speaking genuinely to me, but even when we lost contact for a while, when we reconnected it was always as if we’d grown somehow closer instead of further apart. Weird, but who am I to complain, huh?

Who would have thought that my shitty InuYasha fanfic would bring two people who otherwise would have never met together like this? Huh!

Anyway, he loves me even though I have no teeth and look like a gremlin. True love y’all.

Of course, now that the wedding’s over I chopped my hair off and the summer has made it a nice, lighter blonde. >:3c These are going to probably be the last pictures of me with longer hair in existence. Weird...!

[goatcultleader]

well if im doin it then so are you: 1-99

1: 6 of the songs you listen to most?I’m going to interpret this as 6 of my favorite songs, which are:Take Me Away – BleachersDoomsday – LovelifeScum – Peta & The WolvesCome Say Hello – SuperhumanoidsYou Haunt Me – Sir SlyStargazer – Elektrik People(I realized while deciding these songs that I have so many more songs that are my favorites)2: If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?I don’t know. I don’t think there’s anyone I want to meet3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17.“her knees. She was whispering to the boy to soothe him and”Fyodor Dostoevsky – Crime and Punishment4: What do you think about most?Just my life in general, I guess5: What does your latest text message from someone else say?“Probably the worst thing about Glar is how overpriced it is”6: Do you sleep with or without clothes on?I sleep with clothes on. I’m not some kind of animal7: What’s your strangest talent?I have no talents8: Girls… (finish the sentence); Boys… (finish the sentence)Girls are good and pure. Boys are wonderful beings.9: Ever had a poem or song written about you?No10: When is the last time you played the air guitar?Never????11: Do you have any strange phobias?Ok the closest thing I have to a phobia is teeth mutilation and it makes me feel very gross and uncomfortable12: Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose?Probably as a small child13: What’s your religion?Atheist14: If you are outside, what are you most likely doing?Going inside15: Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?Behind the camera16: Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band?I’m changing this to favorite artist, which makes it much easier, and that is Lana Del Rey17: What was the last lie you told?Ummm… I’m not sure. I tell little lies all the time18: Do you believe in karma?Not really19: What does your URL mean?It’s John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt and my name20: What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength?My greatest weakness is probably my lack of self-confidence/need for validation, and my greatest strength is probably that I’m smart21: Who is your celebrity crush?I don’t have one22: Have you ever gone skinny dipping?No23: How do you vent your anger?I’ll talk to someone, maybe cry, or just think about it for a while24: Do you have a collection of anything?No25: Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?I hate both. I just want people to text me26: Are you happy with the person you’ve become?Not entirely, but I’m much happier with myself than I used to be27: What’s a sound you hate; sound you love?I have no idea28: What’s your biggest “what if”?What if I was the person I want to be?29: Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens?I don’t believe in ghosts, but I do believe in aliens30: Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm.My desk with both of my arms (or if I’m counting my laptop as a thing, it would be that)31: Smell the air. What do you smell?I think I smell my mom making food?32: What’s the worst place you have ever been to?One time I went to Pittsburgh and it was so depressing and I had the vague desire to die (more than I usually do)33: Choose: East Coast or West Coast?East Coast34: Most attractive singer of your opposite gender?I don’t know35: To you, what is the meaning of life?To have a good time. Just to fill your life with as many good memories as possible36: Define Art.Something you find pleasing to the senses37: Do you believe in luck?Not exactly, because I think luck is more a perception of results than an actual phenomenon38: What’s the weather like right now?It’s cloudy but kind of bright and it’s cold39: What time is it?12:28 PM40: Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed?I drive, but I’ve never crashed41: What was the last book you read?I read Macbeth for one of my classes42: Do you like the smell of gasoline?Yes43: Do you have any nicknames?“Johnny” is a nickname, but that’s what I go by. Different people call me different things44: What was the last film you saw?I’m pretty sure it was Don’t Breathe45: What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?One time I cut my thumb by accidentally smashing a glass and that was pretty bad46: Have you ever caught a butterfly?I’m sure I have as a child47: Do you have any obsessions right now?No48: What’s your sexual orientation?Bisexual49: Ever had a rumor spread about you?I don’t know. Maybe50: Do you believe in magic?No, but I do wonder how my friends do their magic tricks51: Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?In most cases no, but if they truly hurt me, or repeatedly hurt me, I will hold a grudge52: What is your astrological sign?Gemini53: Do you save money or spend it?I save money, but since college started, I’ve spent a lot (college is expensive, kids)54: What’s the last thing you purchased?Donuts55: Love or lust?Love56: In a relationship?No57: How many relationships have you had?358: Can you touch your nose with your tongue?No59: Where were you yesterday?At college, at a grocery store, back at college, and then at home for the rest of the day60: Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?Yes (the closest things are a pen, markers, and colored pencils)61: Are you wearing socks right now?Yes62: What’s your favorite animal?Cats63: What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you?If I had a secret weapon, then people would actually like me, so obviously I have no secret weapon to get someone to like me64: Where is your best friend?Her house I think?65: Give me your top 5 favorite blogs on Tumblr.@longing4urbottom @the-great-uniter @chasingstallionduckswiththerev @a-few-of-my-favorite-turtles @flanflantheicecreamman66: What is your heritage?I don’t know. White people67: What were you doing last night at 12AM?Sleeping, because I hadn’t slept the night before68: What do you think is Satan’s last name?I have no idea69: Be honest. Ever gotten yourself off?Yikes70: Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend?I think so? I know I’m garbage but I also think I’m a good friend71: You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?I have to rescue the dog because it’s a dog and I have to72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid?I’d tell people I care about, and I guess I’d try to make the most of the time I have left, and I think I’d be afraid73: You can only have one of these things; trust or love.I need both. One is worthless without the other74: What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?I don’t know. Really any song that I like makes me happy75: What are the last four digits in your cell phone number?187576: In your opinion, what makes a great relationship?Love, trust, common interest, mutual support, time together77: How can I win your heart?If you show an interest in me I will like you. That’s just how it works78: Can insanity bring on more creativity?I guess, because you would think differently if you were insane, which would make you more “creative”79: What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far?To go to the college that I go to80: What size shoes do you wear?10 I think. Maybe 10 ½, i’m not sure81: What would you want to be written on your tombstone?“Finally”82: What is your favorite word?“Quality”83: Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart.Love???84: What is a saying you say a lot?“Quality”85: What’s the last song you listened to?Easier - Mansionair86: Basic question; what’s your favorite color/colors?Teal87: What is your current desktop picture?A teal-ish design88: If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be?Myself89: What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on?I’m not answering this, because it’ll pretty much give away the answer to the question90: One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything; they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do?I’d probably be super scared, cry a little, then get away from the mummies91: You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power?Shapeshifting92: You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again?I’m sure there’s some good times I want to experience again, but I’m fine with just not reliving any part of my past93: You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?Can I just erase all of my life before high school, or maybe as far as until three years ago?94: You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be?Ugggghhhh I don’t know95: You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?I don’t know. I don’t have a desire to go anywhere96: Do you have any relatives in jail?Not that I know of97: Have you ever thrown up in the car?No98: Ever been on a plane?No99: If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say?“I think some people are eavesdropping”

[canecainkane]

Christmas Wedding Planner (2017): first 80 minutes

Okay so listen, I truly cannot cover this whole movie in one review, so I divided it up according to ridiculousness: the first 80 minutes versus the last 5 minutes, which made me shout at my TV more than any other three movies so far this holiday season.

Netflix Description: “A wedding planner's world is turned upside down when a handsome private investigator is hired to disrupt one of her biggest jobs.”

This description? Chock full o’ lies. Let me rewrite this for honesty:

“An apparently unemployed woman who wants to become a wedding planner's world is turned upside down when a ridiculously handsome private investigator is hired to investigate someone, which may disrupt one of her biggest jobs literally the only job she’s ever had as a wedding planner (which she’s doing pretty badly).” 

RATING: 

Candy Canes: w/out last five minutes: 4 out of 5; with last five minutes: 2

Confession: Despite the slew of online reviews calling this the worst Christmas movie ever made, the first 80 minutes almost fooled me. Was it silly, contrived, emotionally manipulative and predictable? Um, that’s what we mean when we say Christmas movie. But until the last five minutes clonked me over the head with a cast iron skillet of stupidity, I didn’t notice how much worse than average it was. I’m a simple woman and I was distracted by the bright, shiny production values, the weird/wonderful costumes and how goddamn glossy everyone’s perfect, perfect hair was.

Dean Cains: with hottie goggles on: 4 out of 5; goggles removed: 2

Let the record show -- I’ve been watching these movies for 25 years, and this is the first one I’ve ever seen with a male lead whom I find even remotely attractive. Slash actually kind of straight-up bangable? Is he an average or better actor? I really can’t even be objective. And triple that for Jacqueline Hudon: I’ve got a weakness for big-eyed coltish redheads. It’s like a chemical reaction. But objectively, the acting was pretty embarrassing ... especially Jocelyn Hudon who moves as compulsively as a hummingbird--twitching, simpering, fidgeting, so awkward and self-affected she’s always, like, a quarter-second away from staring directly at the camera. Whatever. I’ll still watch every Christmas movie she ever makes.

Citizen Kanes: 0 out of 5

The movie is called Christmas Wedding Planner. It was based on a Harlequin novel, and produced, mysteriously, by a company called “Brain Power Productions.” The prosecution rests, your honor.

TOTAL: 8! As long as you fall asleep five minutes before the end, and you happen to perfectly share my passion for Emma Stone-ish women & dudes who look like sexy, stubbly non-custodial parents.

Otherwise, 4. But at least it’s not a boring 4 -- it earns that 4 by being truly, magnificently terrible.

WTF Moments:

*A two-fer with these screenshots: they tell you everything you need to know about the plot AND about Jocelyn Hudon’s aggressive facial mugging. 

Actually, a three-fer: yes, that’s just a straight-up gift-wrapping ribbon tied around her neck for some reason, and no, that’s not the only ... ruffled tea saucer (??????) that’s perched precariously on Kelly Rutherford’s head throughout this movie.

*Seriously, look at this bullshit they stapled to her gloriously glossy mane:

Sorry, babe, but until you evict that garbage crab from your scalp, you don’t get to judge other people’s decisions. (I mean, goddamn, costume department.That is Ms. Lily van der Woodson whose head you are besmirching. How DARE you?)

*My husband and I were trying to solve the mystery of Hallmark’s Charisma-Defying Troupe of Chinless Wonders and my husband put forth the theory: the men aren’t meant to be aspirational. They’re supposed to be exactly handsome enough that the potato-chip chomping, yoga-pants clad Christmas movie binge-ing viewer (self included, obvs) would say: “Yeah, y’know, realistically? I could get with that guy.”

He’s an insightful man. No idea how Stephen Huszan managed to slip through the rigorous hot-but-not-too-hot inspection, but I’m not complaining.

*Also, I just realized why I was immune to the sheer obnoxiousness of Jocelyn Hudon’s acting: I was inoculated from watching Karen Gillan’s almost identical performance in “Selfie.” I simultaneously love that show and die cringe death from the grating over-stylization.

*Of course, no movie would be completely without a cast of intriguing and pivotal side characters! Look at these five quirky characters who are in multiple scenes each! Each bridesmaid has her own distinct personality trait! The hilariously anal-retentive baker! A struggling restaurateur!

Okay now FORGET ABOUT THEM FUCKING IMMEDIATELY, because that’s what the movie does. Seriously, not one of these people has a storyline that comes back. Not even the restaurateur, who is the PI’s best friend / business partner and the caterer of the title wedding. NONE of the characters (including the bride!) has a storyline that goes beyond aiding & abetting the main characters’ love story. The closest we get to a B plot is persnickety baker using Eureka lemons in his cake (the fool!).

These characters have such meager internal lives that even the bride -- the person who gets the third-most screen time -- wanders around in a luded haze, totally ignoring her own (terribly unplanned) wedding so she can chummily grill her bff/cousin/wedding planner about her hot hook-up with said bride’s ex. Which, like, I barely even liked most of my exes while I was dating them, but if a friend of mine hooked up with one of my exes at my engagement party, I would 100% give their full contact information to every Republican candidate newsletter I could dig up.

*But forget the hottie ex-snatching -- bride should be scratching Kelsey’s eyes out for how badly she’s fucking up this wedding. If four days before my wedding, the wedding planner was STARTING to make her “vision board,” I’d be on Kayak booking tickets to Vegas. Drive-thru Elvis > $$$$$ wedding planned by a woman who apparently hasn’t even heard of Pinterest.

The timeline on the planning for this -- I cannot stress enough -- super elegant high society wedding:

8 days before: Throw an engagement party for the bride and groom; talk New York Times writer into covering the wedding and sell them photo rights without a contract

7 days before: Choose the wedding dress; caterer cancels but don’t book a new one -- it’ll probably work itself out; discover the bachelorette party has to be fully re-planned

6 days before: Teach the bride to bake so she can sweatshop up gingerbread wedding favors for 200+ guests; book a new caterer who has never done a wedding before but reassures you that: “yeah,” he “can probably do that”

5 days before: The groom’s parents throw a ... pre-wedding party for all the same guests who were at the engagement party and who will be at the wedding? (Sssshh, don’t think too hard about it.) Show up late and make out with the bride’s ex.

4 days before: Create a vision board for the wedding decor.

3 days before: Eh, the wedding’s pretty much in shape. Spend the day in a white van with binoculars, spying on the groom.

2 days before: Mope on your couch.

1 day before: Whatever.

Day of: Wear your non-matching bridesmaid dress, run a few errands while everyone is already at the church, then drop a truth-bomb that nukes the wedding! Wooooo!

Career self-sabotage, thy name is Kelsey Whatever.

*Though I have to give snaps -- the day-long stakeout was ridiculous, but I was glad that Kelsey and the PI (Hunter? Duncan? Vin? Honestly, he may be hot, but he still tumbled out of the same Cosmic Gumball Machine of Interchangeable Men as the rest of these Xmas hunks) actually spent time together. So often, these couples spill coffee on each other, then meet again in a tree lot, then talk about their dead parents during a snowball fight and it’s LOVE FOREVER after forty non-consecutive minutes together. So I appreciated that they spent a full day together and we could actually see them vibing.

“A Christmas movie couple that actually spends time together!” I thought. “A couple who gets to know each other instead of just ninja-kicking into an ill-conceived relationship!”

Haaaaaaaa. 

*I grabbed this picture of random street musicians because I thought, in my first-80-minutes innocence that this was going to be the most ridiculously extra moment all movie.

But, you know, cheesy Christmas movies are like the days we live: Each one is kind of special but, let’s be honest, mostly similar to what came before. We won’t remember the vast majority of them. They’re filled with mediocre men and cool women. And you never know, going into one, whether it might unexpectedly prove to be the best or worst of your year, or even of your life.