#there are....several things i found unnecessary (to put it nicely) to change

[sojourner-between-worlds]

I can admit: I was a little harsh on my initial watch of Netflix's L&Co adaption. And I can admit that this was because I was watching as I read, which made me hyper-aware of every detail they changed. (This initial criticism really only applied to the first three episodes because I haven't read the second book yet.) Upon re-watch, with some distance between reading and watching, I decided that I really, truly loved it anyway and I am more than a little irked that it got cancelled.

That being said, there is one scene that I just. Really. Dislike. how they decided to change things.

In the Archives.

Maybe I'm still just being too nit-picky, but I really do not like that they gave George's lines to Lucy. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I think she wouldn't also stand up for Lockwood, but... that scene in the book is what made me actually start to like George. So I hope that it's understandable that I'm a bit miffed.

Additionally, it just...makes less sense? George is their researcher, so it makes perfect sense that he would slap Kipps in the face with his own terrible track record because he's the "facts" guy. (It's like the scene with Bobby later -- which I adore and hope is the same in the book, lol -- he's in his element when he has facts and when he can use those facts. Like when he goes to defend Lockwood.)

On top of that, I greatly dislike the fact that Lockwood draws first instead of in defense. It's a change in characterization that just really did not need to happen.

(Had I watched the series first, I probably would have loved this scene, as is, for the record. But. Just in general, I dislike when adaptions make weird changes that have no real purpose, like swapping dialogue.)

[marlynnofmany]

So this exists now, and I couldn't be more delighted. Have a brief Season Two fix-it fic / epilogue, because it definitely needed to exist.

~~~

I Will Face God and Walk Backwards Into Hell 1296 words

Aziraphale felt ill at ease from the moment he reached Heaven. He was always on guard there, ready to be judged harshly, but this was … unprecedented. Trying not to show it, he squared his shoulders and soldiered on. He’d made his clothes presentable to Heaven’s standards in the elevator as usual. He did his best to act as if following the Metatron to an extremely unexpected new post was nothing out of the ordinary.

But oh, the Metatron hadn’t told the other archangels yet. And that interaction went just as well as you’d expect.

They were polite, mostly. A bit shocked, which was understandable, and Michael visibly stopped herself from saying something unwise. Sandalphon did nothing but glare. Aziraphale managed not to fidget purely by force of will.

He told himself to remember the greater good, and he kept regally silent while the Metatron smoothed the way for him. This would be okay. A bumpy start, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He was going to change things for the better.

And he thought he actually could, for a while. There was an office, which was nice and posh, and there were meetings that the Metatron facilitated in which his now-subordinate archangels listened to the many ideas he had for the betterment of humanity. They even agreed to roll some out immediately.

But there were also meetings which the Metatron did not attend, and those were very different. The others talked over him ruthlessly, Michael in particular, and focused on the business of Heaven with little regard for Earth.

Aziraphale suspected that there were other meetings that he himself was not invited to, where they discussed the twice-delayed Armageddon that he was so firmly against. The Metatron still hadn’t brought up the subject of the Second Coming, which he’d hinted at before.

Never mind the fact that Aziraphale had put forth several well-thought-out measures for how to sway humanity as a whole toward the path of good, thus making any kind of conflict unnecessary. And the fact that God still hadn’t made any official pronouncements in a very long time. Aziraphale would have liked to question the Metatron directly on that matter, but he didn’t want to press his luck.

So he focused on doing good. Implementing what changes he could, keeping tabs on Hell’s actions as best he was allowed, and leading by example.

He tried not to think about Crowley. Sometimes it was hard not to, especially when checking up on Hell, but he did try. And he shared his thoughts with no one.

He’d managed to convince himself that he was doing a respectable job of things by the time he arrived at a regular meeting and found that all of his plans had been stalled, and some even rolled back entirely. Michael had a smug list of excuses. Uriel backed her up while Sandalphon grinned, and Saraqael just looked unimpressed. The Metatron acted as if everything was business as usual.

Aziraphale held his tongue and pressed with ultimate politeness for the resumption of at least the most important. Michael gave him the barest of concessions.

After the meeting, he cornered the Metatron in his office and demanded answers, afire with righteous indignation and no little amount of hurt. What was this insubordination, and why was the Metatron going along with it? Why even promote Aziraphale if this was what it led to? Was the role he was supposedly so well-suited to just as a figurehead? Was this God’s plan??

The Metatron was an unflappable as usual. He said simply that Aziraphale was welcome to ask God herself, if he doubted Her wisdom. The assumption was clearly that he would back down, shrink back into himself like he’d always done, and let the rest of Heaven have their way.

Instead, Aziraphale regarded him steadily. “I think I’d rather like a chat, if you please,” he said. When the Metatron didn’t move, he gestured for him to get on with it.

Aziraphale wasn’t privately sure who was calling whose bluff, but he stood tall while the Metatron went through the motions of requesting God’s presence. Was this even how it was done these days? He had no way of knowing. He pretended that he did.

A column of light shone into the room. The Metatron’s flourish for Aziraphale to proceed was more than a little sarcastic.

Aziraphale kept his cool and spoke into the light. He asked of his plans to improve humanity’s moral standing, to turn the Earth onto the path toward an endless Eden, with no need for war and no place for Hell’s influences to gain a foothold. He spoke of the resistance he’d gotten from the other archangels. He even spoke of thoughts he’d never shared with anyone: that someday even demons might redeem themselves enough to be forgiven. He could certainly cite one example that deserved it. He didn’t look at the Metatron as he said so.

Finally the voice of God filled the room. “You mean the Archduke Crowley? He’s served his purpose. Hardly doing much to redeem himself these days.”

Stung, Aziraphale demanded, “And is that part of your ineffable plan??”

The smile in God’s voice was absolutely infuriating. “That’s for me to know and you to find out, Aziraphale. Now why don’t you get back to work and do as you’re told?”

Aziraphale gaped, lost for words.

When the Metatron chuckled condescendingly and started forward, Aziraphale held up a hand.

“No,” he said to the Metatron. Then he repeated, “No,” to the shaft of light. “In fact,” he continued, making the first rude gesture in Heaven since Crowley had pulled one behind Michael’s back. “Hell no,” Aziraphale hissed, setting both of his middle fingers alight with holy fire.

He held them up proudly and strode backwards out the door while the Metatron sputtered and God was silent.

(If there was any ineffable snickering at how well this was playing out, God kept it strictly to Herself.)

Aziraphale continued walking backwards through Heaven, fingers held aloft and aflame, now with his wings spread for maximum emphasis for anyone who was watching. Judging by the gasps from all sides, many were. He didn’t turn his head.

The escalator down was slow, but he was patient. He simply angled his arms upward at all the staring faces. Then when he reached the ground floor, he stepped to the side and continued downward.

An angel glowing with holy fire blazes quite a trail in Hell, even one walking backwards.

It didn’t take him any time at all to find Crowley. The door opened behind him, and he finally lowered his hands to turn around. He let the flames go out.

Crowley sat on a throne much more grand and terrible than the ostentatious chair in his old flat, with elaborate robes patterned in snakeskin echoing the scales that crawled across his face. His eyes blazed yellow. His expression was stony. Minor demons cowered on all sides.

Aziraphale gathered himself, saying nothing.

Then he did the dance.

“You were right. You were right. I was wrong; you were right.”

He held the final pose while Crowley quirked an eyebrow.

“Very nice,” said the demon, starting to smile.

Aziraphale stood and held out a hand with an answering smile. “I hear Alpha Centauri is lovely this time of year.”

Crowley was silent for just long enough to make him doubt, then he surged to his feet, shedding robes and pretense as he crossed the room. Ignoring Aziraphale’s hand completely, he grabbed his fancy shirt and kissed him deeply. His teeth were sharper than usual.

Aziraphale found that he quite liked it, and kissed him back. The scandalized noises of the crowd of demons faded away as they left to just be an “us.”

[forkanna]

"Ahhh… much better."

Veronica Lodge had never known a shopping spree to fail to lift her spirits. The feeling of her arms laden down with a dozen or more shopping bags full of extravagant purchases was the most welcome ache in the world - even beyond a good workout, or twisting in a passenger seat to kiss some boy or other. She once again felt like everything would be fine, like all was right with the world.

What was the point in dwelling on her past at Pembrooke? She could have smacked both Cheryl and Tomoko across their smug faces for dredging up all that unnecessary baggage. But now that she had an ounce of perspective back, she found herself determined not to let them control her narrative. She was desperate to keep her past in the past, but she didn't feel nearly as powerless to do so as she did before.

"Oh hey, gorgeous. You get even more frames to put around that hot, work of art body of yours?"

Veronica rolled her eyes at the pathetic line. "And here I was actually starting to feel pretty good about my day. Thanks for ruining it, Mantle."

Reggie chuckled as he leaned one hip against the hood of her Benz, folding his arms over his barrel chest. He was every bit as handsome as he purported himself to be; the problem was that he was his own biggest fan. It got irritating immediately and only grew more so the more often he insisted everyone praise him for his looks.

Right about now, she would take the attention. It would definitely be a distraction. 

"You say that like I'm not the best thing to happen to your day so far, gorgeous. Anyway, where's Freckles or Blondie? I normally don't see you without one or the other."

"They're both at practice for the football game. Why aren't you there? Aren't you part of the team?"

Reggie's laugh was the slightest bit chagrined. "Well, see… I got benched for a week for making a pass at Midge. I might have complimented the color of her underwear when she was on top of the pyramid."

"Oh, and that wasn't your fault, somehow?"

"Hey, it was a compliment! Can't a guy make an observation? They were pink with purple teddy bears - not the kind she normally has on!"

"And you somehow can't see that you knowing what type she normally has on is an issue?" He just shrugged, and she laughed and rolled her eyes. "Typical. I would bother telling you off, but I'm pretty sure Moose will take care of that for me."

That finally rattled him enough to run his hand through his black hair, but he tried to laugh it off. "I'm not scared of that big dumb ox. Anyway, what are you up to right now?"

"Nothing now. Just going to head home and put all my acquisitions away. Why?"

"Let me treat you to dinner. Nothing fancy, not a date," he headed her off as she squinted at him. "But not Pop's again, either. You want to hit up Tandoori House?"

The suggestion surprised Veronica. Indian food definitely sounded like a nice change of pace, and she had really thought Reggie would pull out all the stops and take her to some expensive French restaurant purely to impress her. He wasn't always a cad, apparently. 

"Hmm… you know what? Why not?" Before he could jump up and down with glee, she held up her index finger. "Separate cars, no kissing, no getting handsy under the table. Got it?"

"Roger, Roger. What about footsy?" When she just scowled, he held up both hands in surrender. "No footsy, either. Sheesh."

  ~ o ~

  Within minutes, they were both parking in adjoining spots at Tandoori House. Even just getting out of the car flooded Veronica's lungs with inviting scents of curry and spice, and she felt her mouth watering already.

In no time, they were seated and browsing the menu. Veronica had been there several times before, but not often enough to have the menu memorized; she was a lot more used to having Gaston prepare her whatever she wished in the comfort of her own home, up to and including Indian food - although the Patels definitely had him beat in that department.

"Oh, hey guys," their waitress said with a bright smile. 

"Hey, Tina," Reggie said as he set his menu down and clapped his hands before rubbing them together. "What looks good today? Hook us up."

"Can't go wrong with the tikka masala. Naan is hot and fresh, too. What are you feeling?"

"Sounds good, gorgeous," he flattered their server. Veronica was pretty sure he never actually hit on Tina Patel at school, but given their forced conversation because she was waiting on them in her parents' restaurant, it was inevitable.

"I'll have the palak paneer," Veronica said as she side-eyed Reggie. "And some tandoori chicken, and naan bread - oh, and can I get two orders of butter chicken to go? For when I'm heading home."

"Gotcha," Tina said, hurrying to scribble everything down. "I'll have them put those in after I bring your food, so it's nice and hot when you leave. Anything else? Drinks?"

"Coffee."

"Western, or the good stuff?" 

"What's the good stuff?" Reggie asked.

"Oooh, you guys have to try it," Tina said with a huge, excited grin. "A little milk and sugar and chicory, and only the best arabica beans, ground fresh daily. We let it percolate, mix it with the milk and sugar… filter kaapi is stronger, but you'll ascend, seriously."

"Well, I'll try it," Veronica said with a shrug. Reggie nodded as well.

"Cool." She lowered her voice to add, "I'm glad, since we have to sell what we grind and don't use at a discount. But seriously, it's so good."

"Okay, okay, we're convinced," Reggie laughed. "Let me get it nice and hot, Tina."

While Veronica was rolling her eyes again, Tina grinned and cocked a finger gun at him. "You got it!" Then she was off. And he was obviously checking out her figure, even beneath her traditional saree. 

"Wow, I am out with an actual pig."

"What?" he said defensively, even though he was still smiling. "I'm here for a good time - it's not like we're married or anything. Lighten up. What's got stuck in your craw lately?"

Her lip curled as she stared at him across the table. "You haven't been paying attention, have you?"

By the time their orders arrived, Veronica was still ranting about Cheryl Blossom. And continued to do so as they make their way through the food and coffee - which was as incredible as advertised. They were almost finished by the time she finally came to a stop, running out of tidbits to divulge.

"…and I guess it just boils down to the fact that Betty and I don't need the competition. That's all."

"That's all, huh?" Reggie grumbled, still propping up his head as he leaned on one elbow. He had been in that position for the past five minutes.

"Uhhh… yes, that is all. Why are you being so blasé? Don't you see what a serious threat she poses to Riverdale High's fragile social ecosystem? She's going to have everybody jumping around, figuring out how we all fit together from now on!"

He shrugged his shoulders as he mopped up the last of his sauce with the last scrap of his naan. "Hey, as far as I'm concerned, this just means one more girl to pull Archie's focus away from you. Doesn't hurt me any."

Veronica flashed him a smarmy little smirk. "You say that as if you've ever been remotely serious about me."

"Moi?" he asked in a scandalized tone, pressing his hand to his chest. "Why, Veronica, I am shocked that you would besmirch my character in this fashion. Have I not sought out your feminine wiles with the utmost sincerity? Pray tell, when was I anything less than genuine?"

"About fifteen minutes ago, when you literally hit on Tina while I was sitting right here. Betty is the blonde one, not me; I have a long memory, and hold even longer grudges."

"Wow, okay, okay. Never pegged you for being this sensitive, Ronnie."

"I'm not sensitive," she protested hotly. "I'm… just… I don't have to justify myself to you. Bottom line is, the Blossoms have always been bad news - and I'm not going to trust this long lost daughter, or whoever the hell she is."

Reggie just let out a scoffing sound as Tina dropped off a plastic bag containing two aluminum pie tins, with posterboard circles covering the tops. "Fine, so you think she's the devil with a blue dress on. Or green, like she was wearing today. What are you gonna do about it? Run her out of town?"

"Hmm, no… that won't exactly work, I'm afraid. For top secret reasons." Veronica drummed her manicured fingernails on the table top thoughtfully, then suddenly snapped two of said fingers. "Aha!"

"AH!" Once he recovered from nearly falling out of his chair, Reggie demanded, "What's the matter with you?!"

"Nothing," the Lodge heir purred as she pressed her fingertips together, forming a steeple in front of her wicked grin. "Not anymore. I think I just need to go home and have a conversation with my father."

  ~ o ~

  Which was exactly what she did with herself next. Lodge Manor lay just outside of Riverdale proper, on a lush estate between rolling green hills. This was no tacky McMansion; it was one of the nicest homes upstate, with dozens of rooms of all purposes, an outdoor and indoor pool, hot tub, greenhouse, tennis court, and garage capable of holding six cars, plus a separate one for the limo. Veronica had been lucky enough to never want for anything.

Who said she was an ungrateful spoiled brat? She certainly appreciated what she had - she just was of the "if you've got it, flaunt it" camp. Hiram Lodge was a self-made man, a titan of industry and a stock wizard, and made sure his family never had to worry about their next meal. Or their next entire wardrobe, for that matter. 

After parking her Benz in the garage, she strutted up to the front door and handed off her bags to Smithers. All she said to him was, "Hey, do you know where Daddy is?"

Smithers didn't even miss a beat, as used to Veronica's behavior patterns as he was. "In the study, Miss Lodge. Shall I put your purchases away for you?"

"That won't be necessary; just leave them on the bed and I'll go through them myself later. Thanks." Then she waved at the butler before skipping off to the study.

The silver-haired tycoon was seated in his plush leather armchair, puffing away at his pipe and browsing the Wall Street Journal. Veronica couldn't count the number of times she had walked in on him looking exactly like this - though it probably numbered in the thousands. Her mother had gotten him to agree to stop smoking the pipe several times a day, but for now, he was still holding onto having this reflective time with his old habit at least once per day. Veronica wasn't about to judge, even though privately, she wished he would quit, as well.

"Hey, Daddykins," she sang out as she pranced over the floor to his side.

"What do you want, Veronica?" he asked without even looking up.

Trying not to be perturbed by him seeing through her would-be disarming tactic, she folded her arms over one corner of his chairback. "Awww, can't I just spend some time with the best Daddy in…" When he squinted up at her, she sighed. "Okay, okay, but you could have let me be loving for a moment."

"And you could be loving without an ulterior motive, hmm? Now, what does my princess want? Another Bentley? We agreed after the last one that it's for the best if-"

"We don't have to bring that up again," she laughed anxiously. "Ever. No, nothing like that; I bought a few things today but nothing crazy, and I don't need anything else. At the moment," she added as an afterthought.

"Then…?"

"Well… alright, so…" She wanted to phrase this delicately. "You know… I've worked very hard to make you and Mom proud of me over the past two years. I've really changed."

"Have you?" he murmured. When she frowned, he snorted and turned a page in his newspaper. "Alright, so you have; we've noticed. Aside from a few of your more egregious shopping sprees, your pattern of behavior has vastly improved. Do you think you deserve a prize?"

"Actually, it's more about protecting my reputation. So there's a new Blossom I've never heard of before…"

Veronica did her best to leave nothing out. By the time she had told her father as much as she could think to mention, carefully leaving out that it was the way Archie was head over heels for the other redhead that bothered her the most, she was sitting in the other chair next to him that her mother would normally have claimed.

"…and I still have no idea how I never heard about her once, the entire time I was growing up."

"Well, apparently, she grew up on the west coast," her father divulged now that his daughter had finally fallen silent. "Not that I know much about it; only that Clifford mentioned something about her after the last quarterly budget meeting. I suppose that's why you never encountered her until now."

Veronica shook her head, folding her arms over her chest as she crossed her legs and stared into the fire. It wasn't especially cold; her father just liked having a roaring fire going for the aesthetic. "Yeah, but why here? Why now? And is she his daughter, or a cousin? There's just so many questions…"

"And why don't you ask Cheryl these questions? Seems like the most direct route to get the knowledge you want."

"Because…" She sighed. "You know how bad things got with Blaze. I mean, I didn't really see it at the time, but he brought out all my worst instincts - turned me into a real bad girl. You don't want me to be a bad girl again, do you, Daddy?"

He shook his head with a rueful smile and a chuckle. "Darling, you don't have to resort to that kind of manipulation. I understand why you're concerned; you think this long lost Blossom will be just as much of a negative influence as that reckless boy was before they sent him overseas. But I highly doubt you'll fall into her trap, even if she were; you only have ever lost your head because of a boy, or because of your competitive… nature…"

They both stared at each other for a long moment. Veronica was trying very hard to look completely at ease, but she knew her heart was beating faster, and her foot was jiggling up and down from nerves.

"Oh no. Not that cretin."

"Daddy-"

"Not Archie Andrews again!" He wadded up his newspaper and hurled it into the fire. "Why can't you find another boy to annoy me with? Hmm? Why does it have to be that oafish klutz with hormonal ADHD?!"

"Hey! He's not oafish - and what's that last one supposed to mean?!"

"It means he can't stay focused on one girl long enough to get anywhere close to a meaningful courtship - before some other young thing comes along and distracts him, like a cat chasing a laser pointer!"

Veronica scowled. "He's not that bad, Daddy! And anyway, this is about my reputation - I don't want all my dirty laundry coming out in the wash, when I've worked very hard to keep my past in the past! I just want to finish my senior year and start college without any little snickers and assumptions following me around!"

"Well, you know what they say: 'you made your bed'…" But Mr. Lodge sighed and rolled his eyes when his daughter pouted even harder. "Alright, alright. I'll ask Clifford a few questions when next I see him - but I'm not doing any 'detective work' or anything unscrupulous."

"Thank you, Daddy," she sighed in relief. That had been more than she truly expected of him, since he was such a rigid disciplinarian sometimes. 

"Just don't be too shocked if your past catches up to you, after all. Sometimes good intentions aren't enough to erase history, you know."

"I know," Veronica glowed, mostly disregarding that last bit because she had already gotten what she wanted - and her mind was starting in on the next phases of her Cheryl Blossom Defense Plan. She hopped up and hugged him tightly, making him fight to catch his pipe lest he spill it all over the expensive rug. "Thank you so so so so much, Daddy!"

"Hmph," was all he responded as she dashed away. "Sometimes I feel more like a vending machine than your father."

But Veronica was already sprinting up the grand staircase toward her room. She had a lot of work to do, and it wasn't going to do itself.

[9w1ft]

Hi, I know this is a very relevant topic but I've been following your blog for several years and your words and wisdom have always resonated with me, so I was hoping to have your thoughts.

I've always been a shy and quiet person with a very low self-esteem and a poor understanding of social cues. Not much is charming about me. Then we had the pandemic and my socialization set back by a thousand millennia. During this time I became what many would say "chronically online."

I just saw it as my regular life. On the Internet, I was somehow lucky and made a lot of online friends. We are like-minded, they are nice and funny, and it's great to see different perspectives. During this time, I also found a sense of belonging within the Kaylor community, and I still consider you all near and dear. My online friends and social circles have been there for me at my loneliest, darkest times when people physically next to me happened.

However, I think now I'm kind of growing out of that for several reasons. The Internet is a wasteland. Lots of drama and toxicity. Social media is becoming unusable. Also now that the lockdown is long gone, I need to be able to focus on my work but I can't get anything done because of my attachment to my phone where my online friends are.

Also in real life I don't know when or how it happened but I'm actually talking to people and going out of my way to socialize. I still don't think I have any attractive qualities but I am making friends regardless. I don't know if I am even confident but I do feel a lot more comfortable with myself.

With these real incidents, the risks and effort are more but it is also just as rewarding. With my online friends, I feel secure with them because I know what their beliefs are and I know they aren't homophobic or anti-atheists, whereas my secret identity would be a problem in real life. With my online friends, I access dopamine 24/7 anytime I want and I have the liberty to vent to anybody anytime. With my real life friends however I have to act like I'm fine and that venting might get me judged. However online there's just a lot of unnecessary pessimism everywhere.

With all of this context, I want to simply say that I am perhaps growing out of my online life, that a part of me wants to move on and focus on my real life forever. But I also think some of my online friends are really nice and wonderful people, and if I say goodbye to one of them, I oughta say bye to everybody because the cycle will simply repeat if I go from one social media to another.

I also really enjoy Kaylorism as a hobby. I engage with it up to the degree it makes me happy, as I'm following your advice.

I understand that this isn't an all or nothing situation. But do you have any advice for me? I want to know if there's way I can sustainably have the best of both lives.

hi anon ♥️ i hope you don’t mind that i posted this in full because i think there are others like you out there and i think what’s on you mind might resonate.

i think it’s so amazing that you’re finding successes and growth in your real life and it sounds like focusing in on that might bring you a lot of joy and fulfillment. at the same time, online life seems to be draining you a bit. i hope i’m understanding you right. if so, i think you already know what would be best for you.

but if changing up your regular way of living is making you apprehensive, i think it’s important to remember that as we go through life, we are going to need and want different things at different stages, and that there are a lot of things at our disposal to help us out along the way. i really believe social media (and by extension the internet) is one of these things— a tool. maybe right now, you don’t need to use that tool. and it’s okay to put it away and just have it as something to use as needed, if seasons change for you again.

there’s a conversation that might be had about choosing how to use the tool, or to drop the metaphor for a second, re-evaluate the content you are consuming or ways that you interface with people online and adjust the experience to you etc etc. but i know that’s easier said than done.

so if you need some encouragement, please do not ever feel as though you need to keep up appearances online to the detriment of your actual life. i know fomo is a real thing and wanting to be connected to the world is also an important thing, but there are also many things you can do on a local level that you’ll find will both fulfill those needs, and provide you with chances to expand the size of your toolbox.

plus! you can come back anytime you’d like. i think for a lot of us, especially on tumblr, we’re the kind of people who could go without talking for years at a time but still pick up and chat as if no time has passed. first and foremost, we’re rooting for you!

[kattahj]

More Asian QL reviews! Mostly Thai boys as usual, but a Japanese GL at the end!

KinnPorsche

What's it about? Kinn is the son of a mafia boss. Porsche is a bartender who happens to help him out once, and is then coerced into becoming his bodyguard.

Genre: Mafia action, possibly comedy?

Watch if you enjoy: Mafia tropes. High heat. Belligerent sexual tension that turns increasingly playful with time. Having a very hard time deciding what is or what is not meant to be funny. (I have a feeling some of the stuff I found funny wasn't meant to be.) Emotionally repressed vs emotionally oversharing teenage side couple, with love songs. Kinky dom/sub human pet sidecouple #2. Flamboyant drama queen with mental health issues who may be the most sensible of the bunch. Plot that is all over the place even when it isn't twisty (which it is quite often).

Gayer version of: your local kink club's Bugsy Malone theme night

Recommended? Hm. Yes for its influence, no for actual quality, but yes again if you just want some fun mafia hijinks without having to think or feel too much. And it never gets QUITE as bad again as the first five minutes. In some ways it's the worst of the QLs I've watched so far, but it's more entertaining and memorable than several of them. And ironically, it's one of the shows I've found myself writing fic for.

Watched on: Dailymotion

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dZvpNreGVOc

Laws of Attraction

What's it about? Tinn's beloved niece is hit by a car belonging to the son of senator Thatthep. Opportunistic lawyer Chan first works for Thatthep, but soon finds himself asking questions that puts him at odds with the senator. Despite their different outlooks on life, Tinn and Chan may have a common goal.

Genre: lakorn (Thai soap opera), action, drama

Watch if you enjoy: High suspense. Morally grey protagonist. Warm and righteous other protagonist. Changing your mind completely about at least one character. Having your heart broken and then laughing your ass off within a span of ten minutes. Lots of gay side characters, including a pair of badass lesbians. Best grandma currently on TV. Great emotional content. A few laughably bad action scenes and VFX.

Gayer version of: The Pelican Brief

Recommended? Yes! I watched it as it aired and could barely stand waiting for a week between episodes! Just make sure you can cope with dead child, dead dog, dead mom, and parental abuse.

Watched on: bilibili.tv, but it is also up on youtube. (It just didn't add subtitles fast enough for me.)

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Wo7IKw9dWY

La Pluie

What's it about? A world in which, during the rain, certain people can hear the voice of their soulmate – and ONLY that. But is the soulmate thing really real, or just a way to explain an inexplicable phenomenon?

Genre: Romcom/drama

Watch if you enjoy: Nice people solving their problems nicely and with very little unnecessary drama. Subversion of both soulmate and BL tropes (though ultimately bending to the foregone conclusion). Loving families. Understanding exes. Sometimes a cat.

Gayer version of: I want to say TiMER (2009), but that film was a whole lot messier. This is sweet.

Recommended? Kind of? I think it's well done for what it is, but that twelve hours of low-stakes relationship drama, where every crisis is averted, was a bit long for me personally. Plus, it turns out that I don't like soulmates even when they're being turned upside down and shaken around. But if the premise seems like something up your alley, I thoroughly recommend it!

Watched on: Dailymotion

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tz9HG8MGF8M

To Sir, With Love / Khun Chai

What's it about? It's the 1940s, and Thailand is at war. Mr. Song, the wealthy but elderly leader of the Five Dragons association, has two sons with two different wives. Yang is the cheeky rascal, Tian is the obedient and hardworking one. Tian, as the eldest, is set to take over business, and all would be well if not for one little secret: he is gay. If this becomes publicly known, it could ruin the reputation of the whole family.

Genre: soap opera

Watch if you enjoy: More JamFilm after Laws of Attraction, with Film in a radically different role. Brothers supporting each other. Overcoming homophobic surroundings. Rivalling soap queens who will literally walk over corpses for power – and supposedly for their sons, who want none of it. Magic murder mushrooms and other glittery potions. Obedient business heir vs. taciturn assassin gay romance. Feisty het side romance with a lady love who is so sweet and soft spoken that you underestimate what an absolute MVP she is. Acting that ranges from fantastic to terrible. (Looking at you, Nuan!) Absolutely stunning costumes.

Gayer version of: Dynasty, but also I Claudius (what with all the murder).

Recommended? Ye-es? It's more soap opera than BL, so keep that in mind. And there's a lot of Rich People Bullshit. But if you're okay with that, I do recommend it! It ate my brain for several weeks, after all. And if you liked Laws of Attraction, you absolutely MUST see at least a couple of episodes, to experience the whiplash of the difference between Film's roles in those two shows.

Watched on: YouTube

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B3goS7DVeto

Gay OK Bangkok (Seasons 1 and 2)

What's it about? A bunch of friends, boyfriends, hookups and acquaintances, and how they handle their relationships and life's other issues.

Genre: slice of life

Watch if you enjoy: People who feel like actual people. Down to earth relationship drama that doesn't necessarily end well for everyone. Compassion towards the characters even if they're sometimes being dicks. Multiple PSAs about HIV prevention. A relatively short run. (Season 1 is 5x30 minutes, season 2 7x45.)

Gayer version of: Oddly enough, I want to say 90s Degrassi. (The fact that Degrassi was the first show I ever saw that handled HIV may have something to do with it.)

Recommended? Yes! Season 1 is absolutely brilliant, and only some technical issues (soundmix, lack of subtitles for written info) kept me from putting it among my absolute favourites. Season 2 has more and longer episodes but less of a red thread, which means that while all the individual scenes are still well written and well acting, the first half in particular feels a little aimless. But it comes back swinging in the last few eps, and I have also seen viewers who preferred season 2 over season 1!

Watched on: YouTube

Trailer (sorry about the double subtitles): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M3CJ9PiSSR0

Tsukuritai Onna to Tabetai Onna / She loves to cook, she loves to eat

What's it about? Nomoto's hobby is cooking, but she lives alone and always ends up making too much food. One day, she notices how much food her neighbour Kasuga brings home and gets an idea: maybe Kasuga would like to eat some of what she cooks!

Genre: romcom

Watch if you enjoy: Sweet, understated, tentative romance. Lots and LOTS of cooking/eating scenes. (Don't watch while hungry! Do watch to get kitchen inspiration, if you are so inclined!) Lesbian self-discovery. Lots of serious issues in a fluffy setting: class, misogyny, heteronormativity, fat shaming, family hierarchies, and more.

Gayer version of: Julie and Julia

Recommended? Yes! It's very sympathetic and not very long (10 episodes of 15 minutes). The ending is a little unresolved, but fortunately there's a second season promised for 2024.

Between this and Old Fashion Cupcake, I do wonder if all Japanese QLs double as food porn...

Watched on: Dailymotion

Trailer (no subtitles): https://mubi.com/en/films/she-loves-to-cook-and-she-loves-to-eat/trailer

[belicioustummy]

samples

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS A KINK FIC. DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU ARE UNDER 18.

S.teve and C.esare share some onigiri.

“Damn, S.teve. That’s a lot, even for you,” C.esare said, looking at the assorted rice balls on the table in front of them. “You trying to challenge yourself tonight, or what?”

“Mm,” S.teve said. “A bit, but I was hoping to share some of it…”

C.esare looked incredulous. “You mean, with me?”

“Who else?”

He shook his head and smirked. “Yeah, not happening. I told you before, I don’t eat food, remember?”

“I remember,” S.teve said evenly, taking an onigiri. “You said you don’t, but you never said you can’t.”

C.esare chuckled, his strange toothy grin wrinkling the corners of his eyes. “Oh, you’re a sharp one, Steven.”

Being undead was different, though he’d gotten used to it over the hundreds of years he’d been a watcher. It was very hard for most things that hurt normal people to affect him. Certain actions, such as eating and sleeping, were also unnecessary. C.esare still slept. It was familiar enough that he didn’t see a point in giving it up. But when hunger didn’t come up anymore, it was easy to forget to eat. As a result, he had gradually stopped doing so. It left him a lot more time to do more important things.

S.teve, on the other hand… S.teve was alive, so he ate. And he ate plenty. C.esare was very into large men as it was, and he regarded S.teve with an admiring fascination. From his round, pretty face to his thick, strong arms to his broad, hairy chest, just being able to look at S.teve was wonderful. Being close to him to the point where he could touch and kiss and hold him… well, that was an experience. Lately, he’d found that they both enjoyed curling up together after S.teve had eaten a big meal, especially when C.esare rubbed his belly. Though they still called each other rivals, the way S.teve was comfortable enough now to relax with (and even fall asleep around!) him made it clear how much things had changed between them. It had been unexpected that they would grow so close, but honestly, C.esare wasn’t complaining.

“If you don’t want any, I’ll just have leftovers,” said S.teve. He took a bite of the rice ball. “They’re good, though.”

C.esare was unusually quiet as he considered this, watching him enjoy his food. It would be embarrassing to go back on what he’d said, but the warm rice balls did smell nice. They seemed like a far cry from the awful food his own truck served. S.teve’s burgers may have been pretty bad as well, but clearly the man had taste. If he’d still been alive, he would absolutely have taken him up on his offer to share. Then again…

“So what kind are these?” C.esare asked as S.teve finished his first one. “They put fillings in them, right?”

S.teve nodded. “These are all different. I know which ones I like, and I wanted to sample some I hadn’t tried yet.” He pointed to several in succession. “There’s crab, shrimp tempura, and fried spam-“

“Spam?”

“It’s pretty popular, apparently. I like it.” He continued. “Kimchi, umeboshi- that’s spicy pickled cabbage and pickled plum,” he explained, seeing C.esare’s confused expression.

“I know what kimchi is,” C.esare grumbled, though he wasn’t really that annoyed. 

S.teve ignored his dramatics. “The last one is plain, just rice and seasoning. Oh, and I already had the tuna one,” he added. “It was okay, but not my favorite.” He unwrapped another one.

Ordinarily, C.esare would have just been content to sit back and watch S.teve partake in his meal. Tonight was different, though. Maybe it was the fact that S.teve had specifically gotten extra food for him, but he was becoming increasingly tempted to try some himself.

“Anyway,” he said, trying to act casual, “you said one of these is plain, right? I think I’ll have a little of that.”

S.teve’s eyes widened and he smiled. “Hm! Good choice.” He picked one of the onigiri up and handed it to him. It was still warm, and wrapped in a sheet of seaweed.

C.esare broke it in half- it was already small, but he wanted to take it slow. It had been years since he last had food, after all. Tentatively, he took a bite.

Immediately, he was struck by the crisp dryness of the thin seaweed, and then the warm, fluffy texture of the rice inside. It was seasoned with a salty flavoring that made him want to wolf down the rest of it like a starving coyote. Instead, he forced himself to chew it slowly, savoring each bite. It was a strange sensation to suddenly have food in a previously empty stomach when you hadn’t felt any hunger. He finished the half of the onigiri and looked up to see S.teve looking at him with interest.

“What?”

“You look happy.”

“Damn straight. Have you tried this?“ C.esare pushed the other half of the plain rice ball towards him. “I don’t know how they make it taste like that.”

S.teve raised an eyebrow. “That’s all you want?”

“No, I want to try a new one,” said C.esare, “but I don’t know how much I can eat.” He gestured to his slim stomach. “I’m- I’m a lanky bastard, S.teve. I didn’t eat much even when I was alive. For all I know, a whole one of these could fill me up for a week. But I’m not tappin’ out yet.” He looked at the table. S.teve had finished his second rice ball, so there were four left, plus the half.

“What’s left?” he asked.

“I just had the kimchi. The crab, spam, shrimp, and umeboshi are up for grabs.”

“Let me get some of that umeboshi.”

C.esare broke the rice ball in half again, while S.teve started on the plain half. The filling was a reddish orange and smelled salty. When he bit into it, he was surprised at just how sour it was. He made a face.

“Agh, that’s HEINOUS,” he said loudly. S.teve laughed- a soft, humming little giggle. “Not to your taste?”

C.esare took another bite and screwed up his face again, but a bit less so. “Actually, it’s not that bad. I just wasn’t really expecting it to taste this way.” He got an evil glint in his eye. “Umeboshi on a burger, though…”

“You have some strange ideas about being a burger vendor,” S.teve said, looking amused. “Though people might enjoy that if it was cooked well.”

“Yeah, IF. Sour plum with a burger that’s charred to ash would be terrible,” said C.esare, clearly relishing in the idea. He finished his onigiri. Having a proper amount of food in his stomach was unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. He looked to S.teve. “I think I could handle a little more.”

“Want to try the spam?”

He considered it. “It doesn’t sound great to me, but maybe I’ll be wrong.”

S.teve gave him a small piece of it. The seaweed and rice was good as always, and the texture of the meat was fine. But as he chewed, C.esare frowned at the taste.

“That’s a no, then?”

C.esare shook his head. “The spices aren’t doin’ it for me, S.teve. But on the plus side, this would taste even worse if you burned the hell out of it.”

“I think that’s true for most meat,” S.teve pointed out. “You can’t go wrong with the last two, though.” He paused. “Unless you’re allergic to shellfish…”

C.esare wasn’t. He took half of the crab onigiri, which he was pleased to find tasted much better. The crab was savory with a hint of sweetness, it was seasoned the same way as the plain one had been, and…

“Does this have mayo in it?”

“Yeah, it does. Why?”

“I wouldn’t have thought it would go this well with rice.”

“Mm, I can see that. It’s basically a sandwich, though, just without bread.” S.teve patted his big stomach. C.esare realized with a start that he’d been so focused on trying the new food, he’d missed him eating the spam rice ball and the umeboshi half. He himself was beginning to feel pretty full, and S.teve had eaten more than twice the amount of food he’d had. Of course, there was the difference in size between them, and the fact S.teve was much more used to it, but even so, C.esare was impressed.

“You want to share the last one?” he asked him.

S.teve nodded. “Shrimp tempura. That’s a good one.” This time he was the one who halved the onigiri. C.esare caught him stealing a brief glance at his middle as he handed it to him. From where he was sitting, he could feel how much he had eaten, but he wasn’t sure if he was visibly full yet. Maybe when they were finished, Steve could feel his tummy. Those soft, gentle hands against his skin… He shivered delightedly at the thought and began to eat again.

The fried tempura batter around the shrimp was wonderfully crunchy, providing a nice contrast to the rice. The shrimp itself was also delicious. As C.esare ate, he made sure to watch S.teve finishing his last two halves. He could tell the clown was getting full by the way he was slowing down a bit, but he was still savoring them. C.esare swallowed the last bite and put a hand to his stomach. The feeling of comfortable fullness was something he hadn’t experienced in a very long time. He was pretty sure his shirt wasn’t tight enough to show it off. It definitely felt a bit rounder than usual, though.

S.teve finished soon after and looked at him curiously. “Did you have enough?”

C.esare let out a satisfied breath. “God. I’m like a risotto right now, S.teve.”

S.teve paused for a second and looked a bit confused. Then he nodded, understanding. “Want to go lie down?”

“Yes, please.”

C.esare’s bed was just big enough for the two of them to fit comfortably. They lay facing each other, close enough to reach out and kiss the other if the need struck them. For the moment, though, they were just gazing at one another, sleepy and full of wonderful food.

S.teve was the first to bridge the gap between them, cupping C.esare’s gaunt cheek with his hand.

“So pretty,” he whispered. C.esare couldn’t help but feel fluttery inside over the flirtation, and tried to cover it up by brushing his fingers through S.teve’s soft red hair. From the expression on S.teve’s face, he wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding it. He decided to switch gears. Slowly, teasingly, he brought his hand down to S.teve’s stuffed belly. His long fingers brushed over the surface. Every now and then he softly pressed down to get a feel for just how much was inside. S.teve, who had his eyes closed and a smile on his face, was clearly enjoying the attention. C.esare reached under S.teve’s shirt. He let out a surprised honk.

“Your hands are FREEZING!”

“Oops,” said C.esare, smiling wickedly. That was another part of being undead- he was cold as the grave pretty much constantly. It did keep him cool in the summer, which S.teve took advantage of when he could. C.esare didn’t mind. The tradeoff was that he got to sneak-attack him like that every now and then.

He rubbed his palm in small circles from S.teve’s side to the crest of his stomach. It was easy to gauge how full of rice S.teve was. His skin was noticeably stretched from the sheer amount of food. The texture of his body hair felt fuzzy and pleasant against his hand, too. 

S.teve’s stomach gurgled quietly, and he let out a contented little sigh. “Mmh… that‘s nice.” He seemed like he’d adjusted to C.esare’s chilly hands. C.esare leaned in to give him small kisses from his jaw to his neck, leaving blue lipstick marks on his pale skin. He caressed the side of his belly as he did so. S.teve pressed his forehead against C.esare’s, then brought his hand down to his companion’s slightly rounded middle. 

C.esare’s breath caught.

“Is this oka-“

“Yes. Keep doing it.”

S.teve gave his tummy a loving pat. He was shy about showing affection in public, but when the two of them were alone, it was a different story. He let his hand drift over it. C.esare let out an involuntary sound. He hadn’t realized that his stomach felt a lot more sensitive when it was full. Or maybe he’d just forgotten.

“Hm?” S.teve paused to let his hand rest just below his ribs. The light pressure was just right, but C.esare felt like he’d go crazy if he didn’t feel the warmth of his hand against his skin.

“Steeeeeeve,” he said, putting his hand on top of his. “Don’t be shy about taking it under the shirt.”

S.teve blushed and gave him a sheepish grin. “I was hoping you’d ask…” He lifted up the bottom of his black turtleneck so his tummy was just peeking out. Now that it was uncovered, it was clear that his ordinarily empty stomach had filled out into a soft, healthy-looking little curve. S.teve beamed as he began to touch C.esare again.

C.esare had been right. The way S.teve gently massaged his bare stomach was absolutely heavenly. As he lingered around the tighter spots, S.teve hummed softly. He was giving as much care and attention to C.esare as he’d received from him.

“Mmmh. Does it feel this good when I do this for you?”

“Well, you seem to be enjoying this a whole lot. And I always look forward to it when you invite me over, so…”

“You deserve it, baby.” Though he meant it sincerely, there was a little note of cheekiness to disguise it. S.teve responded to this by giving his nose a little tweak. C.esare playfully snapped at his fingers when he did. Since they were both a bit too full for a proper play-fight, a silent truce was declared after a minute or so. S.teve laid against C.esare’s chest, and C.esare put his head on top of S.teve’s. Their hands still rested on top of each other’s tummies. C.esare could feel the steady rhythm of each breath S.teve took, and closed his eyes. After a while, he was pretty sure he’d fallen asleep. He kissed him on the forehead, and was surprised when he spoke up.

“… I’m glad we ate together tonight. I had a good time.”

C.esare nestled into S.teve’s hair, feeling lucky and cozy and absolutely loved.

“So did I.”

[acorncoffeeformysweetheart]

Okay, I decided to edit that fic and write a whole post about the furniture in the Cabot house. Spoiler alert: yes, Ed and Sole finally kissed after two years of awkward tension (even though Sole already has these two dumbasses, Mac and Gage).

I thought this could be a nice example of environmental storytelling. I understand that it is impossible to realize this in such a large game, but I can write about it.

 Let me start by saying that five years after the bombs fell, Ed decided to get married, which made Jack absolutely mad. Ed left the job, but four months later, Jack and Emogene apologized and begged him to come back because they could not find anyone suitable to replace Ed. He agreed to return. Jack began to behave much more respectfully, gave Ed a big raise in salary, and a large room on the first floor next to the kitchen.

I found this photo three years ago and fell in love with it. It’s very close to what I’m thinking about. "Went to get wood", Wood, found objects, ≈12’x9’x10’, 2008 - by Ethan Hayes-Chute

Ed, like many ghouls, has sleep issues, and his room is very different from the rest of the house. It is painted dark green (even the ceiling). Thick, heavy curtains hang from the window. The bed is just huge, 2+ meters, because Ed himself is fucking huge two-door brick-built fridge. And this bed is for sleeping. No one in their mind would bring women to the house they are working for, especially since Ed was generally not interested in this (his wife and child lived in the next house). So, the bed takes up a significant part of the room; there are several different blankets and a dozen of pillows on it, and when Ed sleeps, he buries himself in them like in a nest (quite funny, yes). He even has this silly pillow stuffed with aromatic herbs that you put under your main pillow to make it smell nice.

 He has a lot of strange things in there because his duties include working with caravan owners, knowing who sells what, where, and when, and seeing a lot of different things. And periodically, he buys something for himself because, why not?

 After all, when a single mature man works a lot, he should have his me-time and me-things. And Ed has several hobbies. He loves good clothes. He gathered a whole collection of these goddamned (oh, I adore them) Irish grandpa caps (although he had a hat for any occasion, the sun of the wasteland will burn your bald head). He drinks a lot and smokes like twice as much as Sole and Mac together.

So his room, still perfectly clean, has a lot of stuff in it. A large wardrobe (because he has a lot of good clothes for weekends and even has a seamstress friend who sews for him), a full-length pre-war mirror—a true rarity. Several large shelves with books, notebooks, and folders with blueprints—because he does all the engineering work around the house (after all, he is a former navy engineer; during the war he served on a ship, and he has been on airships and loves them), looks after weapons and equipment, and also helps Jack with the simple stages of his research. Large work desk. A comfortable armchair for reading (oh, I adore the fact that the community unanimously considers him a reading person).

Soon after the assault on Parsons, one by one, the Cabots died. Ed buried them and grieved. He drank for three months and even gave the cats to Daisy because he was afraid he wouldn't be able to take good care of them. Then he joined one of the caravans and worked as a security guard for six months just to get his mind off things, to be in the fresh air, and to be around people, not for money. 

Then he pulled himself together and returned to the house. You know, this may sound cool—I inherited a house like this. But in reality, no. And Ed didn't want that. After all, he could live anywhere.

He took off paintings and removed unnecessary furniture. When Sole came for the first time after a long break, she was very surprised. The living room and dining room (in fact, Ed moved there) greatly changed. They have lost their fashionable gloss but have become warmer and cozier. It was immediately obvious that he now lives here. There was a knitted blanket and colored pillows on the sofa. Instead of that huge portrait, Ed hung a simple rug, the kind Sole had seen in farmers' houses. There were books on the coffee table, by the sofa, and on the dining table. An open bottle of whiskey and a glass. Ed carried the wood-burning stove into the dining room and carefully routed its chimney out the window. On it stood a large, bulbous copper kettle. Simple clay bowls and one huge crooked wooden one for all the weird beer snacks Sole loved so much.

He almost stopped using electricity, except for the reading lamp. There were now large grease candles in metal trays everywhere. And one oil glass lamp (similar to Orthodox icon lamps in Sole’s homeland) so that there is always a fire lit at home, from which you can light a cigarette (he still tried not to smoke in the house, although no one could stop him). I think there should be a smoking balcony with chairs and potted cacti. Ed used to smoke there with Emogene. There was never anything romantic between them, but she sympathized with him and loved his company.

Overall, it was a large and lonely house. It saw a lot. So when Gage asked Ed to come live with them on the lake, Ed was very relieved. Everything has become easier. He was a simple man, and his pleasures were simple. Beloved woman nearby. Beautiful view. A friend's little funny son (Ed loves children and got along well with Duncan). Clean water to bathe at any time. Farm animals. The forest. The caravan still comes once every ten days; you can have a drink and listen to their stories. You can take a boat and go fishing. You can even pack your stuff and go to the sea or to Diamond City if you really want to. Life is good.

At the farm, Ed lives not in the house itself but in the former boat house and workshop, in which part of it was first fenced off, and later another room was added. The room was small, and most of it was taken up by the bed. Pillows and blankets. Books are on shelves under the ceiling. In the same place where a huge amount of dried herbs hung. Ed continued to distill and collect herbs for infusions, cooking, and medicine. He made delicious tea, massage-soothing cream, and even a little perfume on holidays as gifts. Sole loved sleeping in his bed during the day; the room was always cool and smelled deliciously of herbs, wood, and oil. Calm and safe.

[crescentmoon-flower]

Rewatching winx season 4 for nostalgia and realizing how wierd some things are

Ep. 5

And even though they said they don't want attention, they're flying?

Homeless man cameo at perfect irony point

...I just noticed this but why do they always stand on their toes when in fairy form?

I feel sorry for roxy, imagine being told that not only are you a different species than you thought, but also the balance of the entire world is riding on you.

What are duman's transformation limits?

This whole break in and set a trap is actually clever, if only the trap was better

Cute kiko

Why did they all kneel if only Ogron cast the spell?

Ok that interaction between riven and Brandon was cute.

They kind of already do, except nabu though, he looks like a monk

Well at least helia's got his priorities straight

Also nice world building, gardenia is expensive to live in

Riven defying physics with a newspaper, also smart for looking at newspaper adds

Sassy brandon

You know what, not a bad idea to try mechanics

MR. OIL THE MECHANIC

Also I love how nabu didn't change and still looks like a monk and the mechanic isn't questioning it

Oh my god this is painfully awkward

Did Riven break the hood of that car?

Ok that has got to be illegal or at least questionable, did they file tax before giving blooms parents their investment back?

Eh, I'm not going to question these details

Oh my god musa PRINTED the pictures of Stella half awake

Also this is a very fair concern to have when dealing with animals, they didn't mention some of the darker things that could happen to a pet after adoption but it is always a valid thing to keep in mind

Wow, mitzi is annoying

At least they came to the correct conclusion, but aren't they going to question how the wizards managed to cast the spell?

Property damage nullifies the closed sign Stella put up

I don't think what's good or bad for business is relevant when propert damage or bodily harm are bigger concerns

Did duman have to get close to cat the spell? It's seems redundant and frankly an unnecessary risk

... did.. did anagan get rid of the Sound waves with sound waves????

What even were either of those spells bloom? They did like nothing

ALIENS!!!!! I mean he's technically not wrong though

Ok creative Stella good job

Riven raising good points

Ditching jobs, to shame

Aw naw! Oh my god gantlos sounds adorable

What was gantlos's idea?

Thank you timmy, thievery is bad boys

HOLY SHIT

Ok Riven, and probably all the boys, shouldn't be driving

Oh my god this interaction is so awkward and honestly I feel for mitzi here, she literally knows nothing and suddenly they're at her door

Flirting

aisha and nabu are adorable

Oh no, mitzi and her obsesion

Both stella and Brandon are in the wrong here

"A girl never let's her Prince charming go" Ironic

I mean an actual valid reason for being fired

....I feel awful for only now noticing timmy wasn't there, but also why wasn't he?

Ep.6

Half packed apartment, realistic

I don't know how to feel about watching Stella eat for several unnecessary seconds

Huh didn't expect musa to be the most invested in the book

Also I wish we had more world building for believix, I have so many questions

Noooooo, helia's hair cut

SASSY BRANDON

Ok Riven is my spirit animal

Stalker nightmare

Note, if someone is doing something you don't like and makes you uncomfortable you have every right to tell them to stop, no matter their feelings

Tecna has good points

Aisha your great, never change

Oh my god are they seriously painting with several colours on top of each other wet?? This is a disaster

Uhhhng, this second hand embarrassment is horrible

Thank you tecna for stating the obvious

That's creepy, just knock girls

Roxy you are acting suspicious

What was Stella hanging from?

Well their tone changed drastically

Also roxy, crazy people are dangerous

What is this silent conversation between bloom and roxy

Well that could've gone far worse

You lost one group of loonies and found another

Oh my god roxy needs therapy after this

Also irony for artu to bite duman

I love Cute villains

Bouncy light, makes sense

Aisha? Love you

Creepy duman love it

Holy shit ogron is strong

I love ogro

Get the poor girl some therapy

Roxy your awesome, insult them more

I do actually love believix, it looks really pretty and has a nice concept

Roxy looks pissed

Ah, cliff hanger

[oliviahallwriting]

Chapter 25

The next few hours Tom spent on foot. They’d split up, using Jun’s copy of the A/V club’s contact form to find any members intrigued by the promise of a front-page story. The club had thirty members; divided by four still meant he’d had to find seven people. So far, he’d found six, all of whom locked in their dorms.

When La Marschiena struck five, Tom put on his earbuds.

“Stick to your residences,” the AI voice said. “Until Sunday, limit unnecessary public activity.”

And then the voice cut out, replaced by Cynthia’s posh speaking voice.

“Tom and Hana, report to my office,” she said, then repeated.

Tom ignored her, obviously, and gave up on a goofy little hope he’d had that she’d forgotten.

A few hours ago, Jun had insisted that this would be a good use of their time, that they couldn’t look amateur. Not that they were likely to be taken seriously anyway; a small little group of college students didn’t have much cachet in this sort of thing, probably. But Tom, Laura, and Kiyana had obliged him, for lack of a better idea.

It seemed that his own efforts wouldn’t amount to much, Tom thought, as the last guy on his list also neglected to answer his knock on the door. Unless the others had more success, that is, and found the intersection of A/V club students and students who’d avoided the campus tap water. He took a break and found a seat in the res hall lobby and ate a granola bar. He was starting to get sick of them.

Maybe they wouldn’t need the club. He’d imagined that a local news outlet was more likely to take them seriously if they had decent production, but his shitty phone camera might work in a pinch. It was the local news, after all. Jun might hold LLTV in high regard, but he’d never heard of a local news channel that wasn’t lurid. How high could their standard of entry possibly be?

Tom’s phone buzzed, indicating a call, and a glance showed an unknown number. Tom frowned between bites of granola and let them finish calling. Telemarketer, probably. They’d steal your voice and ID after, what, ten seconds? Scary shit. That was why he didn’t answer his phone, maybe. Yeah, it was a good enough reason.

Then he got a text, and another.

You don’t pick up your phone, I guess. Al told me you wouldn’t. It’s Tyler, by the way. Where’s Mike?

Tyler

Michael? The professor?

Tom

I need his help to synthesize more of the cure, and he hasn’t been to the lab at all today.

Tyler

Tom?

Tyler

He’s with Cynthia.

Tom

What?

Tyler

Yeah. He gave himself up so we could get out of her building. Noble of him, to be honest.

Tom

Oh. Oh, wow. That sucks.

Tyler

Yeah.

Tom

What do we do now? I could make more, but it’ll take me, like, three weeks.

Tyler

Don’t worry about that. But we’re planning something, so meet us in Chopin, second floor, at two tomorrow.

Tom

Well, Tom thought, at least he recruited one person to their cause. With any luck Tyler knew how to work a camera.

He left the hall and returned to his dorm, listening to the stream’s sonorous, repetitive commands. Some music would have been a nice change of pace, or, better yet, silence as he slept. But he kept the volume loud, with the hopes that a change in command would wake him, and slept fitfully. 

It seemed not to matter, since the morning came without any deviation. If Cynthia took his and Jun’s absence from her meeting as a threat, she at least was too distracted to send a reminder, or worse, to lead the student body against them. 

Chopin Hall’s assortment of rainbow flags, fluttering from almost every dorm window, welcomed him at noon the next day. He wasn’t the first to arrive, despite showing up several hours before they were supposed to conduct their little interview; Tyler was there, and three guys he’d never seen before were taking up the sitting area in Jun’s suite. Tom introduced himself, and learned that their names were Olsen, Ben, and Logan, and they were in the A/V club.

From the few minutes he spent in their presence, Tom gathered that Olsen was kind of intense, and a confrontational manner of speaking. He probably got that a lot, though, since he was in his high school’s debate team. Ben chewed a lot of gum, a result, he confessed, of nicotine addiction in high school, but he seemed mild-mannered, and was good with post-production and videography. Logan was well-built, and apparently took Loftman’s gym’s kickboxing classes when he wasn’t manning the main camera. Tom figured out, from their constant bickering, that they were also brothers. Or at least half-brothers; he didn’t want to pry. Cousins, maybe, or even triplets, though they didn’t look that similar. Whatever.

They’d listened to Jun’s half-delirious ramblings over the phone at eleven the night before because of a serious family emergency. None of them wanted to explain it in detail, which was fine with Tom, but it’d kept them from Loftman since the semester started. Their plane had landed only minutes before Jun called and begged them to, one, avoid drinking the university tap and two, to show up the next afternoon with recording equipment. None of the three brothers had heard about RAIN at all. Tom made an executive decision to let his more verbally-inclined boyfriend explain everything and left them to fiddle with their cameras.

Jun emerged from his room after a few minutes, and they chatted for a while. Apparently neither Laura nor Kiyana were showing up. Laura couldn’t miss her engineering conference, which was an all-day event. Jennifer was also attending the conference, but only to take notes for a class, and Kiyana had decided to go with her and make a date out of it. It was honestly kind of cute.

Tom felt some of his nerves leave him after talking with his boyfriend. Jun had considered how many people he’d need for this whole event, and the three camera dudes in his little sitting nook at least talked like they knew what they were doing. Tyler had looked determined, though he kept fumbling with one of the smaller cameras, enough that Logan had replaced it with a mic.

It was four-fifteen when everyone was fully up to speed with the plan, which boiled down to striding into Cynthia’s room with cameras rolling and video streaming, demanding an interview, and hoping that she’d damn herself in the process. The plan was, in other words, a little loose. Though Jun had at least typed out a script for himself, and a copy for Olsen, so maybe he had some rhetorical shit on the backburner.

Olsen read some of the script and furrowed his eyebrow.

“Hey, Jun? What is this?” he asked.

“It’s the script,” Jun replied.

“No, like, what, are we accusing her of spiking the campus water supply? That’s gotta be a felony or something.”

“It is,” Jun answered. 

“Well,” Olsen continued, “Do the cops know about it? Why are we the ones blowing the whistle?”

“They know,” Jun said, and sighed. “Olsen, do you need the details to follow the script?”

“Yeah,” Olsen replied. “I don’t just follow orders.”

“Smart man,” Tom said.

“You’re not being helpful, Tom,” Jun said. “No, uh, she spiked it with a drug, referred to here as RAIN, which basically mind-controlled the campus. So it’s just us and the, like, two percent of students who don’t drink tap water because they’re too preppy for it, and, side note, I can’t believe that they’ve basically been paid off for their weird aversion to what’s usually very clean, tasty municipal tap, but it’s the truth. But anyway, yeah, it’s basically just us.”

“And the deaf students,” Tom added. “They’re immune to the induction sound and the commands.”

“Yeah, but they’re probably too busy following Apryl Maye’s career,” Jun shot back. “As we all should be, I know, but there’s a reason her comments really struck a chord in that community and Tom, you gotta keep me on track, the stakes are too high for this sort of interlude—”

“Her debut album hits like a fucking train,” Tom replied, “But you gotta stay on track.”

“I’ll say the stakes are high,” Olsen said. He was still skimming the interview script, which was a few pages long. “Jun, uh, why do you say she’s going to target, uh, the LGBT community?”

“Oh, she’s not,” Jun said. He was speaking fast, like, three-cups-of-coffee fast. “Just trans people. But I wouldn’t put it past her to also get to nonbinary people and, you know, whatever. It’s gender she’s worried about. We’ll get there when we get there. You probably won’t have to even give the interview.”

“Worrying, if true,” Olsen said.

“Yeah,” Ben chimed in. “If true.”

Jun glared at him.

Tyler, who’d been gazing into Jun’s refrigerator, closed it suddenly and stared at the three brothers.

“Guys,” he said, “Jun’s the president of the A/V club, so maybe you should trust him. And even if you don’t, well, do you need to know the truth to turn on a camera? It’ll be a favor to him. You can joke about it later, at one of your club meetings. Say that he put you up to it if you’re embarrassed.”

Tom raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t deny feeling a little impressed. Maybe Tyler had picked up something from his sister.

But Tyler’s spiel wasn’t enough to fully convince Olsen, Ben, and Logan, if their skeptical sidelong looks were any indication.

Tom sighed and pulled out his wallet. His parents had given him two hundred dollars for Christmas. It was twice as much as they usually gave him, which his mom offhandedly explained by “spending more in college”, but he’d chalked it to guilt over what had happened to his grandmother. His mom had never wanted to know the details, but it was obvious enough that he’d been, as his father would say, going through it. The extra money was the least they could do.

He pulled out a fifty-dollar bill.

Logan turned around. He seemed like a typically pretty stoic type, the kind of person Tom thought he was, at least several months ago, but the side of his mouth turned up a bit.

“I didn’t say it was all yours,” Tom quipped.

Logan’s smile faded immediately, and he took a more imposing stance. He was big, in a six-gym-days-a-week kind of way. Not that Tom was small, just that he came by his size more honestly.

The other two brothers looked at Tom expectantly.

“Fine,” he said, and gave each of them fifty dollars.

“Can I have one?” Tyler asked.

“I’m barely letting you date my sister,” Tom replied. “Don’t push it.”

“Whatever,” Tyler said, but he smiled sheepishly. “We should go, then, before she leaves her office. She’s usually in her office until six on Saturdays, but the cure only lasts an hour.”

Four-thirty, read Tom’s phone clock. They couldn’t wait much longer. He took out the bottle of cure, and, using only a spray per person, just covered everyone before the bottle was empty.

Jun went to the bathroom, and Tom tried to ignore the distinct sounds of vomiting. 

He returned, and no one said anything, even as he downed a disposable bottle of water.

“Let’s go,” he said, “before I chicken out.”

They set out towards Comel Hall. Nobody gave them a second glance, since nobody seemed to be around. Even for a Saturday, and even though he knew the cause, it wasn’t, you know, not unnerving.

When they arrived, Jun looked nervously at the front door.

“I think we should still assume that she has the door controls,” he said. “Can one of you block this door, and, uh, the back one of the building? I want to be able to leave if something goes wrong.”

Ben nodded and found a good-sized rock to prop the door open. Then, on a whim, he took out the gum he’d been chewing and stuck it in the bolt on the inside of the door jamb, ensuring that the door couldn’t be locked, even if it closed. Then he left the building towards its back door.

“Let’s continue without him,” Jun said. “He was our backup camera, but everything seems to be functioning. Lights are working, too. We can use our phones as backup cameras.”

“Yeah,” Olsen replied. “He can do the sound editing later.”

Jun made a motion for them to stay quiet, and they entered the hall.

Someone was in the lobby, and she was the first in their journey to notice them. She wore wireless earbuds, and the smell of Impulse wafted around her. Tom remembered a familiarity with her in the fleeting moment she revealed her face before returning to her phone.

“Vanessa?” 

She didn’t respond.

“You know her?” Jun whispered.

“Kissed her at a party,” Tom mumbled back.

Jun nodded absently and left to start their little line in the middle of the lobby. He was supposed to be in the middle of the formation; in his efforts to ensure a smooth interview, Tyler had planned out the small details while Jun was writing the script. Tom didn’t really follow his logic behind the walking order, including why he was at the rear, with Tyler. Mostly he was annoyed that he couldn’t walk with Jun. He was anxious enough; his boyfriend was probably barely holding it together, unless he’d vomited out his nerves.

As they approached room 103, Tom glanced back towards the lobby. Vanessa had moved from her seat to stand next to the door, in sight on the hallway, and stared at him. He remembered, then, how she’d kissed him, in an alcove next to a frat house, trying and failing to conjure something hot in him. Now she held him not with her arms, but with a look cold as snow.

Then he heard the door close, and lock. She’d kicked Ben’s rock out of the doorway.

A sudden chill raced through him, and he grabbed Tyler’s shoulder. The group’s vanguard had already reached the door to Cynthia’s office.

“Wait, you guys,” he said, fear cracking his voice. Their procession had gone smoothly so far, maybe too much so, like Cynthia didn’t know they were coming, like she expected Tom and Jun to just be at her regular meeting, a day late. But Vanessa knew. In her gaze, it was clear. Cynthia had started to target specific people, so he wouldn’t be on her trail. She knew—

“Everything’s fine,” Tyler said. “Stop freaking out.” He broke Tom’s grip on his shoulder and gestured for Olsen, who held point, to keep going. Jun turned around from where he stood in the middle of the line, but the door opened, and he held his tongue.

Not much they could do now, Tom thought, and tried to will his heart to stop racing.

He followed them inside.

…

The weather outside had been gorgeous, remaining storm clouds accentuating an otherwise bright, almost colorful sky. It made the contrasting pitch blackness of room 103 strange.

Almost pitch-blackness, that is, since there was a pitiful little glow from a laptop near the whiteboard at the opposite end of the room. He could, after a few seconds, distinguish the silhouettes of desks, too, and then, a figure, sitting near the laptop. There was a gentle hum of a humidifier running somewhere in the room, which cast a sweaty pall into the air.

“Good evening,” Jun said, into the darkness. Somehow, he still sounded confident, though in any kinder world he wouldn’t have been the one interviewing her. Hell, they could still switch out now, right? Olsen had a copy of the script, even if he weren’t as charismatic.

Tom noticed, as he reached for the lightswitch, that thick fabric covered what would have been the classroom’s ceiling-adjacent windows and dripped down to the floor.

The lightswitch didn’t work. Not that Tom really expected it to, since Cynthia had access to the building’s locks and shit. It was unnerving, but not super necessary; he’d adjust to the light in a minute or two. 

“Hello, Hana,” replied Cynthia, from the professor’s desk. “You weren’t here yesterday.”

Tom felt Tyler move behind him to get closer to the door, and saw a response, a shuffling bit of movement on one side of the wall, which he chalked to a gust from the humidifier against the curtains.

Jun moved forwards with a microphone in hand and ignored Cynthia’s comment. “We’d like to ask you a few questions,” he said. “We’re doing an article about the lives of Loftman’s T.A.s, and wondered if you could help us with an interview.”

Cynthia didn’t reply, but her laptop made a quiet little “ding” sound, the telltale induction command. And then, after a few seconds, another one; the sound was apparently on a timer.

“Careful, you’re already live on stream,” Jun replied, and made a gesture to Logan. 

Tom doubted if that was true; he hadn’t seen any kind of glow from where he stood behind the main camera’s viewfinder.

Cynthia didn’t say anything, but hit a few buttons on her laptop before leaning forwards and speaking into its microphone.

“Close the building,” she said. The laptop sent out another bell chime.

Jun didn’t seem unnerved by the statement until he heard— well, they all heard—the sounds of someone sprinting next to the building, and then, the sounds of a few more people sprinting after them, and finally, the clash of Comel Hall’s back door slamming shut.

So much for Ben propping the door open.

Jun fiddled anxiously with the microphone.

“Hey, can someone use their phone’s flashlight or something?” he asked, tilting ambiguously behind him. “Our audience needs to see, too.”

“Sure,” Tyler said, from where he stood next to the door. But, after an awkward little moment, the room was still dark.

Logan, undaunted, moved towards the covered window with the video camera on his shoulder, and muttered something about golden hour.

“Stop the recording,” Cynthia said, apparently to herself.

Two events occurred in rapid succession. The first was Logan pulling the curtains away from the window, which flooded the room with blinding amber light. The second was a cacophony of crashing glass and plastic; apparently Logan dropped the camera. He yelled, but the sound was choked, becoming a gurgle before fading into silence.

Cynthia’s voice, calm, microphone-enhanced, echoed through the room.

“You’ve caused me a few problems, haven’t you?”

Tom squinted through the glare. Loftman’s professional video recording camera, purchased after years of fundraising from past A/V clubs, lay strewn on the ground and shattered. Logan lay unmoving among the pieces.

Standing above him were three well-built guys in combat jackets and earpieces, who, Tom realized belatedly, had been hiding behind the blackout curtain.

Cynthia’s laptop sounded the induction bell again. It had to be redundant, since the guys were wearing earpieces.

“That one, too,” Cynthia said, and pointed to Olsen.

Tom watched in horror as the men—hired muscle, probably—turned towards Olsen, who tripped one of them and landed a punch on another before they took him down. He was stunned, and couldn’t think to move, even when Jun realized what had happened to his poor little interview and shrieked in fear. 

Tyler still stood near the door to the classroom. “Go!” he yelled.

“Ignore my son,” Cynthia said easily. “Don’t let them leave.” She hadn’t moved from her desk.

Tom finally shook himself from his freeze response and, following Tyler’s direction, ran forward. He needed to escape, he thought blindly. No, he needed Jun to escape, so he covered a few strides, and then he’d meet Jun in the middle of the room, who’d now realized that yeah, he should try to escape too, and was leaping over the destroyed camera parts like a gazelle, and oh, shit, something slammed into his back, and he was falling—

Tom’s head hit the linoleum, and he stared upwards, dazed, into the grim face of one of the mercenaries. A boot slammed into the side of his chest and tore a groan from his lungs.

“Stop!” he heard Jun yell. “Whatever you want, just stop fucking beating up my boyfriend!”

“Very well,” Cynthia said. “Stop what you’re doing. Tyler, hold her steady. Don’t want them running.”

A few moments without further impact let Tom get to his feet. Cynthia was still half a room ahead of him. Tyler had finally moved from the door towards Jun, and dutifully held his arms together behind his back. Logan and Olsen laid unconscious in the pile of camera shrapnel close to the window, and their brother had apparently been apprehended outside.

Several small moments from the past few minutes coalesced in Tom’s mind: Vanessa waiting in the lobby, the goons hiding in the overly-dark room, and Tyler, who was apparently Cynthia’s son, and followed her directions. 

Cynthia had been waiting for them. She’d probably known about Jun’s scheme since yesterday afternoon, after he failed to show up to her warped little hypnotherapy session. Maybe she’d even known about them before, since Tyler was apparently in on it; maybe she knew about the cure itself, and it was all for nothing. But no, the cure worked. That was obvious; the laptop’s bell hadn’t stopped ringing every few seconds since they’d arrived, and the room was balmy from the humidifier. 

“Bring her to me,” Cynthia told Tyler. “Or, rather, could you bring her to me? I know you’re not under. Mike told me everything.”

“Sure,” Tyler said. “Give me a moment.”

“Unless you’d rather I let the men do it,” Cynthia continued. “I just wanted to see where you stood, and I’m paying them, after all.”

“It’s okay,” Tyler replied.

Tom noticed that Tyler, where he stood in roughly the middle of the room, was facing away from his mother, and saw, in a brief, subtle little moment, him mutter something to Jun, who started to struggle against him. Tyler’s grip on Jun held strong, though the two of them swayed back and forth, pacing the room a little bit in their tussle.

Cynthia, alarmed, started to speak.

“No,” Tyler said, between breaths. “I got this. I have—hff—something to prove.”

Tyler looked up from what Tom could only classify as wrestling to give him what was probably a pointed look, but was too obscure to read. Tom glared back at him, which was what he deserved.

Then Tyler mouthed something, and Tom realized that the wrestling must have been some kind of weird performance, because both Jun and Tyler were a lot closer to the door than they were before, and the mouthed words looked a lot like “the door.”

“Tyler!” Cynthia shouted.

“I’m doing what you—mmph— asked!” Tyler replied. “He, uh, she surrendered, so I don’t see the—ghh— problem!”

Cynthia frowned and started to speak, which told Tom that there wasn’t time, so he turned to sprint towards the door.

“Hold him!” Cynthia called. “Make sure none of them leave the building!”

Tyler released Jun and shoved him to the front door.

Tom got to the door first and opened it, Jun close behind, followed by Tyler and the three mercenaries.

Tom made it through, and Jun, but it looked like one of the guys would make it to the door before Tyler.

That is, until Tom heard a distinct thud of a body—Tyler’s body— hitting a door, and, a moment later, it was just himself and his boyfriend racing towards the entrance of Comel Hall.

Tom didn’t realize that Tyler had thrown himself against the door to slow down the mercenaries. He didn’t think about how Tyler must have been, over the last few months, standing against his own mom, in secret. He couldn’t take the time; even now the door handle to room 103 was rattling furiously, and he couldn’t think past the pounding of his heart, and the stabbing pain each step sent through his side, thanks to the brutes moments earlier.

They reached the lobby. Vanessa was waiting for them, and jumped to her feet in front of the closed, and seemingly locked, door.

Tom watched, barely comprehending, as Jun easily picked her up and tossed her into one of the nearby padded chairs. It bought them only a few seconds, but that was enough to push the door open and slip out. Tom allowed himself a little smile; apparently Ben’s little gum ruse had worked.

“Holy shit,” Tom gasped, when they were a block or so away from Comel. The combination of running and a broken rib wasn’t conducive to speech.

“Dunno, man,” Jun replied, as they ran out of the building. “Adrenaline’s a hell of a drug.”

Tom nodded and slowed to a jog, catching his breath. But air came to him much faster after he saw a projectile of some kind fly past him, over his shoulder. Probably RAIN, he thought, but they were overthinking it. Water pistols would be more effective.

Or the darts were just a fallback, he realized, as the sprinkler system next to him activated, then those across the road, then those blocks away. 

“Maybe this’ll get to the local news,” he said. “Everyone knows you’re only supposed to water plants at night.”

And maybe he sounded more delirious than he thought, because Jun looked at him with the most adorable concern that Tom had ever seen in a person, and this was such a shitty situation, but it was kind of cool to see him toss someone onto leather like they were a stuffed toy, and he laughed, a little madly.

Another dart flew past them, and this one Jun saw, based on his wild-eyed expression.

“The darts,” he shouted. “Hide, and I’ll get to the city!”

With that, Jun turned to sprint towards a different edge of campus. He was a fast runner, Tom thought. There was a chance he could outrun the mercs on their tail.

Tom kept running, since there were no obvious or even decent hiding spots nearby, but the mercenary’s footsteps echoed ever louder. At least two of them were using their tranqs. One of the darts hit him, but, in a moment of pure luck, struck his back pocket, hit his phone, and fell to the ground. They were probably more used to the weight of real guns, Tom thought, but even a lousy shot would hit at close range. 

Tom supposed he should be thankful that even Cynthia balked at telling them to use real guns. Though his death by her hands would, he admitted, probably ruin her plans. There were some events that even a hypnotized college campus couldn’t conceal. Grim as it was, a dramatic death-by-gun in the middle of a university campus would draw the local news.

For better or for worse, Cynthia had planned for that, so there were no real guns. There was no easy way out. It would have been simple for him to succumb to the darts, to trust in his boyfriend to find the news and convince them that this was headline news. Never mind that the situation sounded fake and never mind that Cynthia could simply compel them otherwise. 

But that would be a concession. And something Tom had learned ages ago, in one of his game tournaments that was closer than it should’ve been, was that it was only acceptable to concede if there were literally no ways out. And he’d avoided the darts so far, miracle though it required. Hell, he thought, as the Fisher Complex revealed itself in front of him, he could even find a place to hide.

He climbed a set of stairs, and crossed a balcony. Then another staircase, and a warped, walled-in path. It was the first time he’d appreciated Brutalist architecture. Labyrinthine, stagnant, unapproachable. Plenty of cover, easy to lose others in, beautiful.

Tom found the door to one of the staff departments and, a few minutes later, crouched under the second-story reception desk and took out his phone. There was a small hole in the back, but the dart that had hit him hadn’t pierced through the phone’s outer shell.

He opened the texting app, and then closed it. Laura wouldn’t respond to a text if she were in a conference. She shouldn’t answer a call, either, if she respected her audience. But he had to try. And hey, he didn’t call people much; there was a good chance she’d correctly read the situation as an emergency. So he hit the “call” button from her contact page and tried not to check the time in the top of the screen, to confirma how few minutes he had before his cure expired.

“What?” Laura answered. Her irritation was obvious even through the phone, but Tom couldn’t care less.

“She’s onto us,” he said. “I’m being chased by Cynthia’s goons in the staff complex. Fisher. They get me, I don’t know what’ll happen, maybe they hold me hostage to stop Jun from getting the news, or maybe they beat me up again, I don’t know. I assume it’d be over.”

“Holy, uh, hang on,” Laura said. And then, in a tone that indicated that she was speaking to someone else, “Yes, I’ll take questions in a minute!”

“Yeah, so hurry and help if you can, I don’t know. Again, Fisher Complex. Jun’s trying to get to town, but he might not make it.”

“Got it,” Laura said bluntly, and hung up.

What she was going to do, Tom had no idea. All he could do was to try to calm his breathing and hope the mercenaries wouldn’t notice him. Already he heard tromping footsteps somewhere else in the building. It wouldn’t be much longer.

[darklingichor]

How To Be Champion, by Sarah Millican

Well, I did it again, I have too many books and not enough year left, so time to post and extra entry!

I recently discovered Sarah Millican's stand ups and I love them! In one of them, she mentioned her book and I knew I had to read it.

It's fantastic! Other than Jenny Lawson, I don't think I've related so much to someone's writing.

How To Be Champion is part autobiography, part essay collection, and part advice column. In this book "Champion " is slang for good, okay, content, happy.

Ms. Millican is from the North in England and like every geographical region, has its own slang.

Me being raised in the PNW in the 90's the closest equivalent would probably be "How To Be Chill". But I like Champion better, doesn't have the demand of calmness.

Anyway, Ms. Millican goes through her childhood with supportive parents and people at school largely being twatwaffles and this was my experience too.

Something I absolutely loved and I think should be on posters in schools across the globe is when she said not to worry if you don't have a romantic relationship when you're in school, you're there to learn.

I had that viewpoint when I was in school, why do I need to worry about dating when I'm having enough trouble with algebra? I couldn't care less if I had a date on Friday, someone help me understand why someone put the alphabet into math!

She discovers in school that she can write well.

She details her life working hard at several jobs, and getting married young and then getting divorced, before getting into stand up.

Some of the chapters I liked best were ones where she went into how she found wonderful friends who supported her though developing her act as a comic, and the ones where she let's it rip on beauty standards, and life expectations of women.

Ms. Millican has commited the sin of being a woman above a size 2, who doesn't have aspirations of becoming a size 2 and (rightly) thinks that how she looks has nothing to do with her worth as a person or a comic. She has a career, a new loving husband, and pets but doesn't want kids. How dare she make a call like that regarding her own life?

Honestly, I find her inspiring. As a woman who is also bigger and is okay with it most days, it's nice to hear about this from someone who isn't just "love your body" but also "Why the fuck does it matter??"

She wrote about the time she was nominated for a BAFTA and found a dress, and prepared for a fun night out with her husband. This happened, but afterwards she was insulted on the internet and in the press proclaiming that the dress that she wore was awful and she was fat and ugly.

This is just so crappy. And unnecessary, why attack someone like that?

She wrote publicly about how this affected her and how she would just wear that dress again the next year. She happened to have been working the next year, but wore that dress to her show. Hell yeah!

By the way, I was curious about the dress, there's a pic in the book showing part of it, but I wanted to see it full length so: Google. My first thought was: "I want that dress!" It's so pretty!

And Ms. Millican looked damn good in it, but the important thing was that she said she felt good in it, and it's unfair that some people try to take that away from others.

When it comes to kids, it was also cool to read about someone who is open about not wanting kids, and also open about how annoying it is when everyone tells you that you will change your mind, as if other people know what you feel better than you do.

It isn't just the parts that I related to that made this book great, it's also fucking hilarious

From interactions with her family to vacations and outings with her husband to her recipe for cake, this book made me laugh out loud so many times. I adored it!

[thelucyverse]

How To Interact With Beta Readers - for Fanfic Authors

I wanted to make posts both for fic authors and beta readers, because I realized in several recent interactions that some helpful unwritten rules of fandom seem to have become lost to people who are new to it.

This isn't meant to be a call-out post against anyone to say 'you did it wrong!' (really, how could anyone be mad if you just didn't know any better), and there aren't even any definite rules for anything - but I just thought these things might be nice to know and helpful to share around. This first part will be @ the authors, the second part is @ the betas.

Asking for a beta reader

When you want someone to look through your fic, whether you ask in a tumblr post, @/helper in a discord server, in the notes of an already posted work or anywhere else, it's important to state both a) what the work that you want betad is and b) what you want from a beta reader.

The facts about the story.

The first most important facts about the story are a) length (in wordcount, as that is the most-used measurement for fanfiction - you can see it below the tags of an ao3 draft, or at the bottom left of a Word document), and b) rating and warnings. No, please don't just ask 'i have a fic for xy ship to beta' - that's nice information, but not helpful for someone who needs to decide whether they a) have the time to work on the length of fic and b) are willing to be confronted with the kind of content you have written.

In addition to that, you should of course also write what fandom, characters and dynamic it is about, because most beta readers are only willing to beta stories they would also usually read for fun. To make sure that the right people find the ask for a beta reader, you best target the post to them, so tag a tumblr post with the fandom and ship etc, and on discord share the request in a server or channel for the fandom, not an unrelated one.

What format is the draft in?

A word document you can send them via e-mail, a copy-pasted text in a direct message, link access to a google docs? Not everyone is comfortable with all of these methods, and you need to figure out one that works for the both of you.

Also, do you want the changes made directly in the text, in comment functions of the document, or as messages to you? If for example you send someone a Word document, and don't want them to change anything directly in your text, but they aren't comfortable working with the comment function there and end up writing you separate messages telling you what page and line the edits are one, that's going to be a lot more work for you to look through than you might have liked, so make sure to communicate it all beforehand and figure out a way that works properly for everyone.

What do you want from your beta?

'Well, to look over the story, duh?' but it's not that easy. Do you want the beta to:

- Only check for spelling and grammar mistakes in comments next to the text, No other suggestions at all because they would make you feel bad about your work/you don't have the time or want to spend the time on editing anything but honest mistakes/ any other reason?

- Grammar and spelling checks but also suggestions for word flow, repetitive words and phrases that could be changed and stylistic things like adding paragraph breaks (which are always nice to have for mobile reading)?

- [same as above] and also point out possible logic flaws and places where you might want to move a scene forward or back, or suggestions to things you could add to the story, with explanations as to why?

- [same as above] and also give suggestions for text you could cut that is unnecessary to the story or interrupting the flow of a scene in the opinion of your beta reader?

- Include nice messages as to what the beta liked best of the fic, or stay completely objective?

- Point out things they subjectively didn't like and would change about the story if they wrote it themselves, or not?

- Make corrections directly in the story, so afterwards you barely need to look at it anymore before you can publish it, or only give suggestions in comments or messages?

All of these are things some people welcome and others find incredibly annoying and/or hurtful! So make sure to communicate exactly what you are looking for. You don't have to do so in your initial public request, but once you have found a potential beta, you should text them the details before giving them access to your fic.

Do not be afraid of cancelling on a beta if you don't think it is going to work out! Whether because they aren't comfortable using the format you like to use, are a language teacher who can't stop correcting the long sentences you choose to keep as a stylistic choice, or just someone you don't vibe with, whether it's before or after they have started beta reading - be kind, but let them know that it just isn't working out, and that you would rather stop now before either of you wastes any more time and effort. If they want you to, you can tell them what you would have liked them to do differently, but don't ask someone to change how they are, and don't give unsolicited criticism, no, not even to a beta reader.

Decide on a time-frame

When are you going to send them the fic? Chapter by chapter over the next days, or the entire work? When do you want or need the work to be beta read? Is it for a challenge or gift exchange and needs to be finished on the same day, or can they wait for the weekend? Even if you don't have a specific deadline, when do you want them to send it back at the latest?

Working with a beta reader

After - or, if you are in for example a google docs at the same time, while - your beta reader does the corrections, you should look at them and decide which corrections you want to keep, and which to disregard. This is entirely your decision, it is your story, you don't need to feel bad if you don't take all of the suggestions for your work, even if you end up only correcting the spelling mistakes and ignoring everything else, it's your decision and this is fine.

If your beta gave suggestions for additional scenes or sentence changes, you can let them know once you have new text for them to correct, but keep in mind that they might no longer have time or energy to beta now, and don't be disappointed if they tell you this or don't reply. They already helped you, and you can always look for a new beta if you feel that your story still needs it.

Crediting your beta reader

Where are you uploading your fic, and how does your beta reader want to be credited? You best talk about this beforehand as well, as some betas only want to work on something when they will get the credit on a platform they are also on.

When posting on tumblr, it is usually expected to @ the person who helped you and write their url or tracked tag in the #s as well, but make sure to ask beforehand, as maybe they don't want other people to know they beta because they don't want to get swamped in work requests/ they don't want their url associated with for example explicit work/ they want you to tag a sideblog for the fandom instead of their main url.

On ao3, you can link to another author's dashboard or profile page (ask which one they prefer) in the notes by first going to the work text - rich text, writing their name, clicking the link symbol, pasting the url, going back to HTML text and cut-pasting the code to the note you want to have it in. You can do the prep work in a new work instead of your actual draft so you won't accidentally cut any of the work text. Again, ask the person beforehand whether they want to be linked there, or just want a nickname or their tumblr url credited.

You can also gift people works on ao3, and while this is in no way a requirement and most beta readers won't ask for it, just about everyone is happy to receive ao3 gifts! You can ask them beforehand if they want that, but as people can accept and refuse gifts on ao3 themselves, you can also let it be a surprise.

If your beta put a lot of work into your fic and wrote parts of it themselves, you can also make them a co-creator of the work on ao3, but only do this if you know and trust the person, as they will gain access to the fic and will be able to edit everything just like you.

Let me know if I missed anything, and I will update the post!

Tips for beta-readers themselves here!

[krakenartificer]

When I got my ADHD diagnosis, I looked at the questions on the screening form and thought, "If this result comes back positive, then I'm definitely not the only person in my family who has it." Questions like

"Have difficulty finishing one activity before starting another one" and

"I finish others' sentences before they can finish it themselves" and

"have trouble staying on one topic when talking"

...I thought were just weird quirks of my family, but no. When I got my results, I contacted my cousin, and she contacted her sisters and mother, and .. .. yeah. Basically everyone in my dad's side of the family is ADHD.

Now there are some problems with that, obviously, (getting family reunions to stick to a schedule is lol no) but there are some really fantastic perks. For one thing, no one in that family minds if I interrupt them while they're talking ... everyone's happy to keep 3 conversations going at the same time .... and no one minds if you fidget constantly.

But the best perk -- at least that I've found so far -- is that all of our parents have coping mechanisms, and passed them on to us. When I found myself unable to handle tasks with more than one step, my father didn't say "WTF are you talking about? It's easy! Just do the thing! Stop being lazy!" No, he could relate completely, and he sat down and taught me how to handle that.

So today, I'm going to pass on to you the coping mechanism my dad taught me for handling the "cannot put tasks in order / cannot get started / forget what I'm doing" problem. You'll need to adjust it for your own needs and your own struggles, but hopefully it'll be helpful in setting up your own process.

I'm going to walk through it with a big project I'm doing at work, just to have a concrete example. That will make some of the discussion specific to computer programming and technical writing, but I do the same thing for all my projects, so hopefully it'll be generalizable.

So to set the stage:

I was supposed to modify this piece of code -- we'll call it "Rosetta" -- to make it handle call data as well as what it was already doing. I did that.... but we now need the code to be able to handle calls (if that's wanted) but also to be able to handle NOT having calls (if THAT'S wanted).

Which is just .... ugh. So much. SOOOOOOOO much.

So. Break it down.

Step one is to get some recording mechanism - pen and paper, whiteboard, blank computer document, whatever

(Technically, this is a different coping strategy, so we'll just take a quick detour: WRITE THINGS DOWN. Your brain is shit at remembering things, and anyway you've already got limits on your working memory; why would you choose to tie up some of that limited resource in something that could be accomplished with literal stone-age technology? Don't even try to remember things. WRITE THEM DOWN.)

I like sticky notes: they're readily available in all offices, they're pretty cheap, and (most importantly) they can be rearranged if it turns out that I forgot a step or put the steps in the wrong order (which, like, let's be honest, I am definitely going to do). But they kill trees and create unnecessary methane emissions, so I've recently switched over to using virtual sticky notes. That's the format I'm going to use for this example, but you can use anything that meets your purposes.

So, you've got something to write with, you're ready to start.

The first question is: what are you trying to accomplish here? What would "done" look like? What is our goal?

I need to end up with a version of Rosetta that will make the correct results if you don't want calls, and will also make the correct results if you do.

The goal here is that you end up with a statement that you can definitively say (a) Yes this is what I wanted or (b)No this is not right because _______

In this case, in order to do that, I'll need to define "correct results" for both call- and non-call versions. But if I have that nailed down, then this statement meets that criterion: I'll be able to say "Yes, this is what I wanted: see, it makes the correct result for calls, and it makes the correct result for not-calls". Or else I'll be able to say, "No, this is wrong: see, it makes the correct result for calls, but on not-calls it does X and we wanted Y."

I have a clear, definitive standard about what I need to do and whether or not I've done it.

But there was a prerequisite there: I need to define "correct results".

So that goes on a sticky note: Create test that will compare my results to existing call!Rosetta-results and to existing not-call!Rosetta-results.

[ID: Two blue boxes, one on top of the other. The top one says in white text "Create test to compare my results to call!results" The bottom one says "Create test to compare my results to not-call!results"] OK. So now we know what we want. The second question is: what do we need to do in order to get that? Here's where the sticky-note recording system really shines, because you don't have to answer this question sequentially. You just start writing down every single thing that is not the way you want it to end up.

I need it to remove commas in the python script, not the bash script

I need to delete the first part of the get_runs() function, which doesn't do anything

I need to delete the rest of the parameters passed to build_query_script() function, because runs encompasses all the others

while we're on that subject, runs doesn't even need the group_variable, so let's pull that out of the parameter document

we also have a dmf defined, which the bash script demands but doesn't use; let's change that demand

since we're changing the structure of the parameter document, we don't need to pull new metrics for each run, so let's move that outside of the runs() loop and only run once

right now the parameter document is ALMOST but not quite "one row per template". Make it so it's actually one row per template.

among other things, that's going to require making it possible for a template to be followed by nothing at all, since it's the assumption that a template will have a metrics block after it that makes it not quite one row per template. So make it possible to publish a template with a null block

the other thing that's weirdly hard-coded is the definition of what a block looks like. Would it make more sense to separate that out into an input file, like the parameters document? On the one hand, that would make it much more flexible; on the other hand, that's another piece that can break. Don't know. Put a question mark on it.

etc

Here's what it looks like at the end of this step:

[ID: A black and white background showing many boxes in two different shades of blue, all with white text. Some of the boxes are overlapping each other.]

As you can see, at this phase you don't need to worry about any of the following:

ordering the tasks. Just stick 'em right on top of each other for now

how you're going to do any of this. Right now we just need to know what, not how

sticking to only one project. As I was working on this, it occurred to me that this whole process would have been a heck of a lot easier if someone had just made a user manual for this, and since I have to go through all the code line-by-line anyway, I might as well write up the documentation while I'm at it. (To help out future-me, if nothing else.) So I put those tasks on another color of sticky note.

making notes that make any ***ing sense to anyone else. This process is for you, and only you need to understand what you're talking about it. Phrase it in ways that make sense to your brain, and to hell with anyone else.

on that topic, also don't worry about making steps that are "too small" or "too dumb" to write down. This is for you. If "save document" feels like a step to you, then write it down.

You also don't need to get every single step involved in the project right now. Get as many as you can, to be sure, but the process is designed on the assumption that you ARE going to forget important steps, and is designed to handle that.

When you can't think of any more steps, then the third question is: what order does it make sense to do these in? Are there any steps that would be easier if you did another step first? Are there any that literally cannot be done unless another step is complete?

This is also a good place to group steps if they fit together nicely. When I used physical sticky notes, I used two different sizes; digitally I can of course make them whatever size I want.

So I have several documentation steps that (a) do need to be written to make sense to other people and (b) I really need to know what's going on before I can do that. I could write them now, but if I did, I'd just end up re-writing them based on things that change as I'm coding. So we'll move those to the end:

[ID: Three dark blue boxes with white text. They read "Create step-by-step instructions for creating your own metric agg", "Create step-by-step instructions for modifying a metric", "Create step-by-step instructions for modifying a query."]

These parts, though -- if I had all the variable structures written down, I could look at them while I'm coding. Then I won't have to keep scrolling back and forth in the code, trying to remember if it's an array or a dictionary while also trying to remember what part of the code I was working on. Brilliant. Move that to the front.

[ID: Seven dark blue boxes with white text, three large, four small. The first one is large and says "Write up explanation of how Rosetta works." The second one is large and says "Document structure of all variables." Attached to that one are four smaller boxes that say "All_blocks", "Runs", "metric", "New_block". The third large one says "Document what qb_parameters.csv contains"]

Also, while I'm at it, I should get the list of variables I need to document -- then I won't have to keep scrolling to find them. Make those sub-steps.

I definitely keep needing to look up what's in the parameters document, so I should write that down, too. For the user manual I also should write down what's in the metric document, but I don't need that for myself, so I can send that to the end.

[ID: The same three dark blue boxes from two screenshots ago (create step-by-step instructions for metric agg, modifying a metric, and modifying a query), now with another dark blue box in front of them with white text that says "Document what granular_metrics.tsv contains."]

These five are all small steps, and are all related in that they don't actually (hopefully) change the functionality of the code; they're just stuff left over from prior versions of this code. So we can lump them all together.

[ID: Five light blue boxes with white text that say "Delete first part of get_runs()", "Have build_query_script only receive the "run" parameter" "Delete dmf" "Move metrics=get_metrics() outside build_all_blocks (all the way up to the top level?" "Delete group_variable from qp_parameters"]

My brain likes this better, so that I can keep track of fewer "main steps", but that's just a peculiarity of me -- you should lump and split however you prefer to make this process easier for you.

[ID: The same five boxes from the prior screenshot, now all made smaller and attached to a larger box that says "Remove Legacy Code"]

Keep going, step by step, sticky by sticky, until you've got them in order. If -- while you're doing this -- you remember another thing you need to do, write it on a sticky and slap it on the pile; you don't have to stop what you're doing to deal with it, because it's written down and it's on the pile and it will get processed; you can just keep working on the thing you're on right now.

[ID: All the same boxes from the first screenshot, now in a neat row. Some of the original boxes have been grouped together. The ones that were said to be at the beginning of the process are on the left and the ones that were said to be at the end are on the right.]

Step four: for the love of all that's holy, SAVE THIS LIST.

Write it on your cubicle whiteboard where it won't be erased

write it on a piece of paper and tape it to the office wall

send an email to yourself

take a picture with your phone

I don't care but save it.

When I used physical sticky notes, I kept them all on the hood of my cubicle's shelf. Now, as you can see, I use Powerpoint, which is irritating af but does allow me to keep everything in a single document, which I can write down the path of.

[ID: White text on a black background says "open ~/Documents/Rosetta\ Modifications\ and \Documentation.pptx" The next line says "Notes in Rocketbook pg 10-12, 16" The next line says "Turn that into documentation that can be used for making modifications."]

And now (finally) you can answer the question "How would I even get started on that?" You look at the first thing on the list, and you treat it as its own project. You can hyperfocus on this step and completely forget about everything else this project requires, because everything you need to remember for the rest of it is written down.

If, as you're working a step, you think of something else you need to do for the big project, write it on a sticky and slap it on the pile. Don't even worry about trying to order it or identify sub-steps; as long as it's not blocking the thing you need to work on right now, you don't have to care. Just stick that bugger anywhere at all on the list, and go back to what you were doing. When you un-hyperfocus and come back to look at your list, there'll be a big sticky note stuck sideways across all the rest of the steps, and you'll remember to file and order it then.

Other benefits of this system

1) The first question really helps with unclear directions from your boss. You can take whatever they told you to do, and translate it into a requirement that is clearly either met or not-met, and then run it back by the boss.

If they say, "No, no, we want ______" then phew! You just saved a huge miscommunication and weeks of wasted work! What a good employee you are! What an excellent team player with strong communication skills!

If they say "Yes, that's what I want," then you know -- for sure -- what it is you're trying to accomplish. Your anxiety is reduced, and your boss thinks you're super-conscientious.

(And if your boss is a jerk who likes to move the goalposts and blame it on their subordinates, then have this conversation over email, so you can show it to their boss or to HR should it become necessary.)

2) Having this project map means that when you spend an hour staring at the requirements and trying to figure out how to get started (which, let's be honest, you were definitely going to do anyway) ... When your boss/coworker comes by and says, "How's it going?" Instead of having to say "I haven't even started 😞" You can say, "Pretty well! I've got all the steps mapped out and am getting ready to start on implementation!" and show them your list, and they think you're very organized and meticulous. 3) Sometimes, especially in corporate jobs, you and your coworkers will run into a problem that's too big for even Neurotypicals to hold all in their heads. At that point, the NTs will be completely lost -- they've never had to develop a way to handle projects they can't just look at and know how to get started. So then you pipe up in the meeting and say, "OK, well, what exactly are we trying to accomplish?" and everybody at the conference table looks at you like you're a goddamned genius and you don't have to tell them that you use this exact same process to remember how to make a sandwich 😅

4) Having this project map makes it so much easier to stop work and then start it up again later, but this post is already really really really long, so I'm going to address that in a separate (really really long) post.

[thejudgingtrash]

Annabeth is a good person,but not a nice or pleasant one,IMO.

YES.

That’s it. That’s the post. Pack it up everybody, we just cracked the case and cleared up one of the most compelling fights in the PJO fandom since forever. Good job everybody, clap it out and there’s the door! Don’t forget ordering the drinks at Starbucks, Mitch! They’re on me!

Okay, but on a more serious note: YES. YES EXACTLY.

And before some of you roll your eyes or grab your pitchforks – put your biases aside and hear me out for once. I like Annabeth. She’s my in my top three characters only second to Percy himself. I love Percabeth. It’s my favorite ship in the entire series and to be frank, the only ship that I care about PJO wise. Hell, I spend my time creating my own headcanons or writing my own fanfics with Percabeth being the star in them.

But that is not to say that I’m unable to see how certain things have developed over the years or where they stand now in regard to Annabeth. I’m not here to ignore things that have been said and/or done due to or in the name of Annabeth and I’m not here to vilify anyone that doesn’t like her. And I’m here to admit that I’m guilty of some of the things that may be addressed in this meta essay that you will read in just a second. However, I try my best to assure you, that I’m for once able to recognize my own bias.

Warning: a monster essay lies right upon you.

This should count as a paper of its own.

Back to the statement on top: I would go out even further to reframe your claim, anon:

Annabeth Chase is a good character but not a nice or pleasant person.

Annabeth is a wonderful character but she isn’t a nice one. Or at least not nice to everyone. She is (construction wise if I dare say) the best character out of the series. She has her positive traits (she’s caring, she’s emotional, she’s encouraged and volunteers, she fights for what she believes in, she forgives (even if doing so begrudgingly)) but she also has her negative traits (she’s stubborn, she’s brash, changing her mind takes forever, she is prejudiced, she baits others). That balances things out. She is branded as the intelligent kid but does irrational things (like I’ve just said a) she’s a kid and b) she’s not a robot). She should probably know better, but we all make mistakes and hopefully grow and learn from them. The clouds in the sky do blur and cover our visions sometimes.

Annabeth had clashes with other characters or was about to have fights due to her stubbornness or jealousy (Rachel, Reyna, etc.) and has of course her problems with the mortal world and her family but she also found new friends, some things cleared up throughout the narration and she was/is quite popular in Camp Half-Blood.

The thing is: she doesn’t have to be nice or pleasant (as a character). Or at least not all the time. Her character is humanized. That is what or who she is. Human. She does stand out as a character, not just because she’s the (future) love interest. She feels like someone you could meet in real life and either adore from the top to the bottom or declare as your biggest enemy. And that’s totally okay if you lean either way – liking or disliking her. Or even feeling indifferent about her. Also great!

To say that she has been the best character that Riordan has crafted is easy to say, because she has been sculpted after Riordan’s wife. He had a model he could rub some of real-life events or traits on. That’s not the problem. The problem truly doesn’t lie on Riordan’s side for the most part for once.

The problem is inherently on the fandom’s side. What the fandom does, how it acts and how it treats Annabeth as a character is the problem. The problems vary but it’s mostly the mischaracterization of Annabeth, starting fights and fan/ship wars, internalized misogyny (in some cases) and how some of the Annabeth stans lash out (ha, got firsthand experience in that field among many of my friends and mutuals!). There is a reason why many people are wary of people that have Annabeth or Percabeth related URLs.

The fact that we see Annabeth mostly through Percy’s lens and (until the Heroes of Olympus saga hits) we never really see her in chill everyday situations is essentially Riordan leaving the back door of the house open, ready for all of you asshats to rob his mansion in Boston. Because a frame on a character means that we don’t get to see the character in its entirety (unlike we do with Percy in PJO for the most part). That means a bunch of stuff is left open for interpretation which is the reason why Annabeth gets so many polarized headcanon and opinions tossed around. I think that is one of the true appeals of Annabeth. You can add on stuff and it necessarily doesn’t have to contradict itself.

We have people calling her abusive due to a (n admittedly stupid and unnecessary) judo flip and we have people that act like she’s never done anything wrong. People sorta use this excuse to form and shape Annabeth however they want and distort her characterization.

People in the fandom act like Annabeth is some weird prized possession. We perceive Annabeth mostly through the eyes of others (Percy, Apollo, etc.) and when we had some sort of insight in her ways (MOA, HOH) it felt… weird? Somewhat? Like Riordan left two bullet points of her characterization and told the ghostwriter: aight, fuck it up, gringo, see you on Tuesday and greet Fred the next time you see him for me. 

There have been many posts lately (by Tharini, Simi, Sawasawako, Jewishpercy and Annie I believe?) that HOO Percabeth felt weird. That they felt weirdly constructed, that there was no conflict, no growth. It felt stagnating, like we’re turning back. We had five books prior where we had Annabeth and Percy slowly shifting from disliking to liking and crushing each other. True development. And when we finally got the cake it felt… dissatisfying. Like the cheap box stuff and not the delicious exquisite taste that we were promised.

I said it previously in my Percabeth ship roast, but let me repeat myself: many Percabeth related things are straight up fanon. Some of it is very old fanon so that’s been unable to distinguish unless you’ve read the books recently and subtract nearly 99,9% of things you see on Tumblr (and occasionally the other shitty parts of the fandom like Reddit, IG, Twitter. Although they mostly steal and recycle tumblr stuff oh well. But back to the topic).

The way people treat Annabeth is so strange. She’s either an innocent fluffy smush baby that’s never harmed a fly and all that she wants for Christmas is being Percy’s lapdog or she’s the devil incarnate, broke into your house, killed your parents Batman style, kicked your puppy and didn’t flush the toilet on the way out. I think this is what mostly makes people hate her or the ship Percabeth. And both extremes are wrong and right at the same time? She is multifaceted so both stereotypes are true and untrue and sorta cancel each other out in the same way.

The true reason why people dislike Annabeth is because the stans are doing the most. (The haters as well, don’t get me wrong, but oh boy. Piss of a stan and you’ll know what I mean). That isn’t inherently new. Are you guys old enough to remember the ship wars that have happened cross platform? Perachel vs. Percabeth? Oh boy, oh boy. I saw some kids on tumblr a few months ago trying to infiltrate both tags and start shit (and also fail). The fact that Rachel still gets used as the bitchy (ex) girlfriend in fanfics? It’s 2020 guys. I know this apocalyptic year is far from perfect and over but I think we can let this trope die, right? Right? I thought we’ve established that Rachel is a pretty chill charcter by now… right?

If you posted your stuff on FFN back in 2010-2013 and it wasn’t the typical cutesy Percabeth story (Goode High, the gods read TLT, punk/prep Percabeth, college AU, etc.) people would’ve come for your fucking throat. Not because the story or the narration was shit. But because the pairing wasn’t Annabeth and Percy (in the sense that Annabeth had to be paired with Percy. I mean Percy gets shipped with everyone and their mother but for Annabeth it was strictly Percy. As annoying as this whole Connabeth thing is – the people behind it actually had a point. She never had a different love interest unless it’s a Percy centered story and he goes off dating Athena, Artemis and Zoe at the same time for some odd reason. Yeah, FFN Percy ships are something). Or it wasn’t the action filled canon compliant story or it wasn’t an AU that was popular.

People were really stubborn, snobbish and wanted their stuff in the four five boxes that were the most popular ones and that’s it. People have been bullied off the site in many fandoms, so it’s not a PJO-only thing but it’s still sad that it happened. (Off-note: most of these FFN tropes are still alive and well and thriving on AO3. Don’t be so snobbish and pretend that every piece you’d find there is a holy grail. There’s a lot of trash you have to waddle through. Same with Wattpad, Tumblr or anywhere else where fanfics get posted. Also had this discussion with Annabeth stans. Sigh).

And Tumblr back then? Forget it, wasn’t much better.

That view has sorta changed (at least for people that have been in the fandom for several years or have managed to find a way to navigate through it) but some of the negative sentiment from back in the day has survived. Be it by new fans coming in or from old fans that never let their stance die. The aggression feels differently and somewhat not. (I don’t know if the anon function had been abused that much back in the day. I was an observer not a participant in the fandom).

Crack a joke at Annabeth’s expense (Kal’s famous “Annabeth is a Republican” post or Dee Dee’s and many others “Annabeth has the education of a second grader, chill with the college plans, girlie” stance) and you have people insulting you, making callout posts, unfollowing and blocking you (based on only that? Okay, honey), making aggressive counter-posts, etc. in a minute. If you respond with “It’s a joke, it’s not real” you have a 50/50 chance of either getting blown off or embarrassing them so that they apologize for once.

This isn’t just about jokes. You can make a headcanon that’s not the cozy cute convenient mainstream saga and people would react the same way. Or art piece (no, not including the whole Tannabeth Blackchase shtick done by Viria and others) or fanfics.

People project so much onto the unfinished canvas that is Annabeth Chase that any form of negative sentiment as little as someone not liking her to straight up criticism, regardless of how tiny it may be, seems like an affront. Like an invitation to a fight. Like an insult to them, their character, everything they believe in. Let me state something:

You are NOT Annabeth Chase. Annabeth Chase IS NOT you. Annabeth Chase is NOT real. Her feeling cannot be hurt. Someone criticizing, disliking, joking about her or even insulting her will not bother her. Someone making a statement about her is not an insult to YOU.

Let me repeat that:

Annabeth Chase isn’t real. Annabeth Chase isn’t you.

So think a little before you act? I get it when you’re a kid and new to fandoms or haven’t been up with fan cultures in the past and are back in the scene. But if you’re in your late teens or even older as an adult and you’re unable to understand that you aren’t what you like – you aren’t the extension of a fictional character – I feel incredibly sorry for you. Because that’s just incredibly sad. Someone disliking something you like isn’t an attack of your character. It shows you that you are you and the other person is a human just like you. That they just have different taste. Disliking something you like isn’t a crime, you know? But me feeling sorry for the way some of y’all act won’t mean that that’s even remotely okay. Especially if you’re no longer in the intended audience for PJO age wise and should know better.

This isn’t a “white stans” only thing. I’ve seen and witnessed firsthand how people of color, mainly women of color, act the same or not even worse when it comes to her character. People have projected their problems and real-life occurring events into her character (I’m sure that she isn’t the only character nor that this is the only fandom where this is happening) and in some cases like I’ve said cannot separate their own personality from the fictional world. Fights with woc happened because of Annabeth fucking Chase. So many things have happened in the fandom the past few months, mostly due to people being forced staying at home because of the quarantine but I’d say it’s 10% on quarantine and 90% on people for acting up like this.

So here’s a little story: There was the act of Riordan blowing the fandom up because of his own stupidity and being unable to apologize for his mischaracterization and lack of research (the whole Piper fiasco) back in June (?) and admits the upset fandom, people on Twitter, Tumblr and Discord legit thought that none of that mattered and that the outcry was destroying Annabeth Chase’s birthday. That’s right. People thought that Annabeth Chase’s non-existing birthday because she’s a fictional character had a higher priority than the rupture and prevalent racism in the fandom. Okay. This isn’t a great look, Annabeth stans. And this of course pissed a lot of people off. I made a post about it and someone not only berated three other people on said post but no, we had a mighty argument which had disrupted many friendships in our circle which haven’t recovered until this very day. We both had our parts in it and no one is innocent. But the cause of this still remains Annabeth Chase or how people prioritize her non-existing well-being. Anyway. I’m getting agitated just thinking about it.

Let’s go back to the characterization thing with Annabeth. Let me remind you:

Annabeth Chase is an asshole. There I’ve said it in a post ages ago (too lazy to look it up, sorry) and I’ll say it again. And that’s not me insulting her. That’s me actually loving that about her. Annabeth is one of the very few unapologetic female characters that really showed all young readers across the world that you can be a girl, a badass, smart, strong, standing up for yourself and what you believe in. You don’t have to be nice. You don’t have to hide your feelings. You don’t need a man in all cases but it’s also okay to accept help and defeat.

A large reason why I think she’s an incredibly important character in children’s literature/YA because many other novels (mostly (sadly)) have the “Oh, I’m a white skinny dark-haired girl that likes unconventional things like READING. I’m not like the other girls, that take care of themselves and pamper themselves by enjoying shopping and wearing make-up. No, I’d rather be one of the boys but a sweet cute little boy and not the jock fuck that drank vodka shots out of a filthy shoe once. Despite me calling myself hideous every man in a 10-kilometer radius falls in love with me and tells me I’m oh so sexy and by the way I’m only 16 years old” shit going on for no goddamn reason.

Yes, I do blame Twilight for this mostly in recent years, but this trope isn’t by any means knew. Pretty sure that you could even use classics as Pride and Prejudice and dissect them in the same manner (Bold statement: Lizzy Bennet is the OG Bella Swan. There. Go fight somewhere in the corner, people). The new wave of YA focuses on girls belittling themselves and only starting to believe in themselves because someone else (mostly the male love interest) tells them they’re worth it. And these books hit the mainstream because they’re incredibly bland and picture perfect white.

With Annabeth it’s different. She shows up for the job and is done with it. (Brie Larson would probably be the perfect in real life version of her. You either like or dislike her. Or you really don’t care). That is what is so refreshing about her. Her unapologetic nature. Can it be off-putting? Yes. Is it annoying? Yes! Hell, every time I read The Lightning Thief, I want to rip her goddamn head off. And it’s just so well written. Her shift from mistrusting Percy but secretly still believing in him to her opening up. Wow, Riordan did something right there.

Annabeth Chase isn’t a young character. She has existed along with PJO for 15 years. She’s on her way to the second decade. I’m pretty sure that with the success of Percy Jackson (and Harry Potter) many lives have been warped and shaped.

But when I say the problem lies mostly in the fandom, it doesn’t mean that Riordan’s completely innocent. The only problem that I have with Annabeth lies not truly with her but the fact that Riordan is only able to produce three variations of female characters:

The sweetheart (Hazel, Silena, Calypso, Hestia)

The strong feminist (Annabeth, Piper, Thalia, Reyna, Artemis)

The bitch (Drew, nearly every female goddess in the goddamn Riordanverse next to every female monster)

And these female characters only know three endings:

End up married with a mortgage, three kids, two dogs and a cat somewhere in Connecticut by the age of twelve

Get dumped into the hunt

Chill on Mount Olympus and only come down to be a nuisance and/or give a cryptic message before going back and doing a godly rave party or something

We know Annabeth as the badass strong female first (or the bitchy character we’re supposed to actually like. Choose your approach), the blueprint so to speak, so some of the other characters feel almost pale in comparison and almost not needed? Doesn’t mean that other characters can’t behave similarly, but it feels kind of redundant especially if their character arcs end in a rather anticlimactic way (Thalia, Reyna). The new additions are the much needed woc as the main story with PJO was inherently white (anyway stan black!Percy and Grover, folks). So it’s not to bash on the new characters, it’s more Riordan’s fault more than anything.

Since Riordan only knows three female character arcs it feels like he tried to copy the formula several ways with different nuances. Some more or less successful. This is where fandom actually comes in handy and helps create more distinguished and fleshed out characters in form of headcanons or fanfiction.

But even in these cases people still make it about Annabeth when it’s time for characters of colors to shine. Remember that whole spiel and discussion that broke out when people (Kal, diver-up, Caitlyn, Bee, reynaisalesbian, etc.) joked about or criticized that Annabeth thinks that she’s having it harder because she’s a blonde? In front of Hazel and Piper? If she would’ve been a real person that’s an invitation for getting decked. And then all hell broke loose because Annabeth stans couldn’t accept the fact that in the real world and/or in fictional worlds the woc/coc have it harder? That the white woman wasn’t the victim that needed the coddling? Yeah, that was mad pathetic.

I hope you people get my point?

Well fuck. I wrote so many things and have the feeling I’ve said nothing. Anyway, I hope I made sense. This is way too long.

TLDR: Chill about Annabeth please. She’s an important character but that doesn’t mean that everyone has to like her, regardless of being a character in the books or a reader/fan of PJO in real life. She isn’t nice or a sweetheart all the time. She also isn’t the monstrous asshole that some try to make out of her.

Peace out.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎! 𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣 𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚜: 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚆𝚘𝚘𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐

Disclaimer: In no way am I condoning, promoting, encouraging, justifying nor romanticizing yandere behavior or lifestyle. This is all a work of fiction and not meant to represent real life scenarios.

Warnings: Mentions of toxic relationships, yandere behavior, bullying, harassment, blackmail, sexual scenes, abusive relationship, manipulation, verbal abuse, abortion, attempted murder.

��━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧:

𝙽𝚊𝚖𝚎: 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚆𝚘𝚘𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐

𝙳.𝙾.𝙱: 𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟼𝚝𝚑, 𝟷𝟿𝟿𝟿

𝙷𝚎𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝: 𝟷𝟽𝟹 𝙲𝙼/ 𝟻'𝟾 𝙵𝚝.

𝙰𝚐𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: ■■■■■100%

𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: ■■■■□90%

𝙼𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢: ■■■■□80%

𝙾𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝙻𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕: 𝙷𝚒𝚐𝚑

𝚈𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙲𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝚃𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚛

𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙰𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚜:

𝙰𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚑𝚒𝚖𝚜𝚎��𝚏 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜/𝚘.

𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚘𝚏𝚏 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚘𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 .

𝚄𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚕 𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚜.

𝙳𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚢.

𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚑𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚗.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You had known him for the longest time, probably since you were both learning the alphabet.

Even back then he was a troublesome boy.

Loved to dip your hair in paint, pour glue inside your backpack.

Or always pushed you off the swings cause he wanted to play in it.

This didn't really faze you back then.

Most of the boys that age played such tricks on almost all the girls.

They all had a specific target and you were Wooyoung's.

You remember telling this one day to your mom, who simply chuckled.

"Honey, boys tend to tease the girls they have a crush on."

You remember looking at her with confusion.

How could they treat someone they like with such utter disrespect and rudeness?

"Because they don't know how to express their feelings."

Like an idiot you believed that, and being the naive little girl you were, you kinda started developing a crush on him.

You remember the first time you talked back to him, it's engraved in your head because it was the first time of many to come where his words, and actions, hurt you.

"Just admit you like me Wooyoung! You only tease me cause you're in love with me."

You remember the rage and disgust in his eyes as he shoved you to the ground, making you scrape your knee on the pavement.

"Get this through that dumb brain of yours Y/N....

No one will ever love a dirty little rat like you."

You came home crying that day. Hurt physically and emotionally at his words.

And the years to come weren't better, as you grew up, Wooyoung's bullying towards you escalated.

You hoped that after you graduated high school and started going to university, you'd be free from him, never see him again.

You could finally be happy for once in your life. Focus on your goals and career.

Everything was going great for you!.......

Until you walked into class and found out not only had Wooyoung been accepted to the same university...

He was majoring in the same field as you!

"Hey dirty little rat. Missed me?"

His cocky smile sent shivers down your spine, you were already fearing what he had in store for you.

If you thought high school was hell, it was nowhere near as awful as the torment Wooyoung was now putting on you.

Tripping you down the stairs to the point you had severe injuries.

Writing nasty and derogatory names on your desk that now wouldn't come off and you'd be forced to look at every time you went to class.

One time he went as far as stealing your assignments, ultimately leading to failing an entire semester.

You were so heartbroken and just done with his shit. You felt no more motivation to even continue studying.

Until a cute boy named Yeonjun transferred and took an interest in you.

He was super nice, friendly and not to mention good looking and hella tall.

It was more than obvious too that he wanted establish a relationship with you, anyone and everyone could see that.

Especially Wooyoung and he did not look the way someone else was making you happy.

So he devised a plan, not caring how messed up it was.

He made sure someone convinced you to go to a party he'd be at.

You found it odd that he was suddenly acting super nice to you, not even calling you those mild nicknames he called you in front of others.

And it shocked you even more when he suddenly apologized to you for everything he'd done to you, even offering to talk to your professor about your assignment.

His eyes seemed so sincere, you actually believed him.

Perhaps he finally decided to change, realized his behavior was unnecessary and immature and of course, like an idiot you accepted his apology.

You got wasted for the first time in your life that night and could not remember anything at all.

Until Wooyoung was 'kind' enough to brief you in on what happened.

He pulled out his phone and made you watch a video he had filmed of you two that night.

Your stomach hurled over as you realized it was a fucking sex tape, you and Wooyoung had actually fucked that night.

"What! No no! This couldn't have happened! There's no way!" You refused to believe it.

Wooyoung just smirked at you.

"Oh but it did happen kitten. You were so eager too as the video displays, you kept asking me to go harder, begging me for another round and wanting my cum all over you..."

"I wonder what would the whole school say if I posted it online....especially Yeonjun."

Now you realized what his game was. He was never sorry. It was just another form of him to torture you, and this tipped the scale.

You were so shaken up, you got down on your knees and begged him not to show anyone the video.

"Please Wooyoung! I'll do anything! Anything!"

"Anything?......really? How about becoming mine then?"

And now you were forever tied to your worst nightmare.

Wooyoung especially enjoyed seeing Yeonjun's disappointed and heartbroken look when he announced that you two were now dating.

Now he couldn't even look at you anymore, feeling somewhat betrayed by your actions.

You wanted to tell him you were sorry and explain to him what was going on, but Wooyoung had eyes on you 24/7.

He even made you move in with him and now even your free time had to be spent with him.

You hated living with him.

He not only made sure to verbally abuse you, but actually seemed to have fun causing tiny accidents to happen around you.

His favorite was when he'd peer over your shoulder as you tried to study.

He scoffed. "Why even bother if all you'll ever be good at is spreading your legs?"

Those were his favorite insults: "whore" "slut" "bitch".

One time you were just so fed up with him, that you ended up snapping back.

"Shut the fuck up Wooyoung! You're such an insufferable piece of shit, no wonder your mom left you and your dad back in middle school."

As soon as the words came out, you wanted to swallow them back in.

Wooyoung was livid at your words.

He not only yanked you up by your hair, but he actually threw you to the floor and started kicking you harshly.

He didn't kick you for too long though, he did not want to risk anyone questioning when he told them you fell down the stairs.

And especially not take you to the hospital.

You had no choice but to stay home as you tried to recuperate.

You remember one of those days, you came home from a quick trip to the convenience store and found some girl blowing Wooyoung on the couch.

You weren't fazed. He often brought girls home and fucked them right in front of you.

You just sighed and decided to ignore the shit eating grin he'd give you whenever you caught him.

You decided long ago it wasn't worth it.

You two weren't even dating cause you wanted to.

He just loved controlling you, having power over you, holding something over your head.

He had this obsessive need to make you miserable.

And you hated that you had no choice but to allow it.

Even when there were things you didn't want to do, you had to or he'd once again blackmail you.

The one time you adamantly refused to was when you found out you were pregnant.

Wooyoung was just as shocked as you.

"And you're telling me I'm the father?"

"Uh......I can't have sex with anyone who isn't you, obviously you're the father."

Wooyoung couldn't let you go through with the pregnancy.

"Get rid of it." He told you.

You wrapped a protective hand around your bump.

"No! This is my baby and I won't allow you to harm it!"

You weren't going to budge though.

"Show the tape to everyone! I don't give a fuck anymore! But I'm not killing an innocent child who has done nothing wrong. "

Realizing he was losing control of you, Wooyoung knocked you out unconscious, deciding to take matters into your own hands.

You woke up a day later, feeling sore and aching in your inner thighs and lower abdomen.

You immediately panicked and sensed something was wrong.

You didn't need Wooyoung to tell you, you knew he had taken you to a clinic and had the baby removed.

You were so shaken up, cried your eyes out and no longer had any will to fight against Wooyoung.

You felt like it all all your fault, the death of your baby was your fault.

You weren't strong enough to save it and it was killing you inside.

You no longer trusted anyone, and you didn't have the heart to talk about it to anyone. Not like they'd believe you or care about you.

But someone did notice, Yeonjun never stopped caring about you and although he was hurt you went with someone else, he still had feelings for you.

And he was very observant and noticed that ever since you started dating Wooyoung, you were skipping a lot of classes....

And you were having a lot of accidents...too many in fact.

And now he just saw you completely lost and like a walking dead.

"Hey Y/N, are you ok?" He asked you one day.

You were going to respond, but the devil made an appearance by your side.

"She's fine and was just coming home with me. Weren't you baby?"

To everyone, it looked like a sweet and caring smile from your doting boyfriend, but you knew it was all fake.

Nonetheless you just kept your head low and went home with him.

Yeonjun noticed the way you trembled when he put his arm around you, noticed the frightened look in your eyes and he knew something was wrong in your relationship.

When you got home, Wooyoung was pissed off at you and immediately struck your face.

"I thought I told you not to talk to him! Can't you obey a simple order you fucking bitch?!"

When he pulled out a knife from the kitchen, you were now scared for your life.

You tried to fight back, but Wooyoung was stronger than you and you were still in pain after the abortion.

He knocked you to the floor and managed to land 2 stab wounds into your right side.

You could never forget the wrath and hate in his eyes as he told you:

"I'm going to fucking kill you."

By some miracle, someone taller and stronger than Wooyoung got him off you, that someone being none other than Yeonjun.

He felt glad about following his hunch and followed you both back home, otherwise he'd end up reading about you in the newspaper.

He had no trouble in subduing Wooyoung and calling the police.

The only thing on his mind was getting you to the hospital as soon as possible.

"It's ok Y/N. You're going to be fine." He assured you

Your physical injuries were easy to recover from, but the emotional trauma and abuse Wooyoung put you through was not.

Yet Yeonjun was there every step of the way, going with you to therapy and just listening to you and your terrifying story.

For the first time in your life, you felt truly loved and happy....

And safe.

A year after the ordeal, you were doing much better and were nearly fully recuperated.

Yeonjun and you rented a place together and were completely in love with each other.

Everything seemed to be going perfect....

And then one day your phone rang.

Picking up, you asked "Hello?"

"Don't think it's over yet you dirty little rat."

[whoaffle]

Today a person of my family was complimenting and admiring Bozos' stupid-ass fucking penis-shaped rocket...

They kept talking about how it's "amazing" and "genius" and whatever... They were really impressed by the whole "show" and by the technology used and I GET that on one hand, because it IS something different and new and it is impressive (which doesn't mean it is good, I'll develop later), and this person is much older than me and they kept insisting on how, for them, in the past, this would have sounded impossible and how it's amazing that it's happening! That one person would manage to fund that by himself and not a whole country! (which again, impressive, NOT good. The fact that ONE person has the same amount of money as a large country, while others are poorer and poorer every day... The slow erasure of a middle class as social inequality becomes more and more severe every day... The fact that all this money was conquered by exploiting several poorly paid workers in shitty jobs with bad conditions... All those are symptoms of a DEATHLY ill economic system that not only has gone WRONG already but still insists on pretending to be functional while dragging down everyone along with it to the absolute limit before it collapses entirely on itself, leaving a painful scar on the people it took advantage of AND on the planet it has exploited for so long).

Going back to the point, I get it that "space travel" is a magical sci-fi dream for many people, both young and old, and that older people who think differently from most of us young adult Tumblr users would be super impressed by it, BUT... This is still so... So bad! Most of it - if not everything about it - is such an absurd scenario!

Well, knowing by previous experience that criticizing Bezos' amount of money and how he acquired it would be useless and that he'd end up defended anyways, I tried criticizing the ecological aspect of the whole thing first! But the answer I got was "Hah! A lot of stuff pollutes the world much more and no one talks about it", which, like... 1- Your point being?? That's no excuse to ignore absolutely useless shit like this polluting the earth even more just so billionaires can feel special because they can go to space while millions of people starve, die and suffer. Besides the fact that insisting on investing in this kind of technology instead of trying to prioritize Eco-friendly technologies and research is PRECISELY why a lot of other things pollute so much more - because every time someone comes up with something new they insist on not giving a fuck about the environmental aspect of their tech... So both the issues are correlated, this is not a "different thing that is less important" this is ONE of the symptoms. And 2 - Yes we DO talk about it, very often, all the time, and we hate it, and criticize it, and wish it would change. How many younger people are legit extremely worried about the environment and about the several ways governments, industries and other large-scale processes like that damage the environment? Damn, we DO complain about those!

But OK. Didn't wanna argue, so I started just using my phone instead... Then another person joins the conversation. The two of them are now like "This technology may not be put to good use now, the Space Tourism is a bad idea and it's stupid... BUT they could use the same device for other kinds of travel! Something from the technology used here could be used later for useful projects! Imagine, we could use the same rocket type tech to make commercial international flights, for example!" and I was silently thinking "Yeah right and emit even MORE useless pollution just because people wanna get to other places EVEN faster! And just because some idiots who have the money would pay THAT MUCH to be able to go faster to Paris or whatever!"

That is NOT NECESSARY and it is not SUSTAINABLE, it is not viable in long-term! Why would we use this kind of shit that is MORE expensive and MORE pollution-emitting?? Because it's faster?? Well let me tell you something then! Being faster is not only unnecessary but in this context we are living right now, it's A BAD IDEA, because our society is ALREADY deeply sick about the need to speed up literally everything and everyone has anxiety and is unable to wait a single second for anything, and so they expect faster and faster results every time, and companies - who LOVE not giving a shit about workers' mental health and well-being - expect more and more and more in less time! And this adds up pressure and stress on people's lives - which, by the way, is one of the things THIS very person from my family always complains about 'modern days'... The fact is that if traveling between continents FASTER became an actual accessible thing, that would probably just become another stupid insane standard for our already impossible-to-keep-up-with lives! Because if you travel abroad so quickly, then you are expected to get back to work on the same day and fuck jet-lag... Or anything similar! I don't know!

Anyway, I did go on a tangent here because I'm so angry and I started ranting over my rant. Let me go back to the POINT.

I was silent all the time as they kept talking about it, because honestly, no matter what I replied, they'd be like "You're too radical!", "don't exaggerate", "there are much worse things" and SPECIALLY "but the scientific advancement!"

And my WHOLE POINT HERE is that this is NOT "advancement"! It is scientific creation, development even if you will, but not "advancement"! Because it emits ridiculous amounts of carbon and other kinds of pollution in a planet that is already suffering so much environmentally and literally CANNOT HANDLE that anymore!

It is not advancement if its so expensive that only the 1% people (who hold most the money in the world) can pay for it, while billions of others just watch and starve and die in floods and fires CAUSED by that sort of shit!

That’s not "advancement"! That is fucking technological masturbation coming from egocentric morons who only want to get more money and show off!

Advancement would be coming up with actual, real solutions that help people in their daily lives! Advancement would be coming up with technologies and solutions that would work BETTER for everyone and not just to fill billionaire's asses with MORE money! It would be to find new ways to do what we do today without destroying the environment, or finding new cheaper ways to produce products and services so that more people can have access to them! And this is the absolute OPPOSITE of that! It is insisting on a way of doing things that is outdated, unsustainable and destructive, and that doesn't FIT our reality anymore and should be left BEHIND while we still have time to change!

BESIDES scientific advancement has been happening ALL OVER the world for CENTURIES and all we need is that the RIGHT technologies get attention and investment. Eco-friendly technology EXISTS we could clean the seas, we could generate free electricity for all, we could invest on lab grown meat, we could do SO much that would be actually useful and nice and helpful, but instead those sons of BITCHES only want to play in space and maybe some day run away when the planet is too sick to be fixed, leaving us - the poor ones - behind to die.

The fact is that we don't need cocky, bastard, exploitative billionaires to have scientific advancement! It would exist anyway, perhaps in better ways! And people should STOP considering technologies that are more harmful to the world than helpful as "advancements"! Because they are not, they are a problem, they are like if a man invented a flamethrower inside a house that is literally on fire and everyone found it amazing because "now we can set fire on stuff more easily and faster" yeah like, AWESOME but can we solve the PROBLEMS caused by that instead??

And honestly, I hate the excuse that "space represents hope for many people in a world that is bound to destruction" like, there would be NO need to go to space to begin with if we focused on fixing what's wrong instead of that ridiculous bullshit disguised as research or whatever when it's obviously just two things: showing off their horrible amounts of money and making MARKETING of an unnecessary service that will only benefit those who already have the easiest lives of all of us while causing issues to all others! JUST so that these billionaires can make MORE money. It's DISGUSTING.

There is NOTHING wrong about space travel as a concept, nothing wrong with researching and developing technologies that may allow us to explore space! Space exploration would be AWESOME! BUT if we're gonna work on something like that, we have to develop it in a way that doesn't harm the world EVEN MORE. We have to have priorities! We have to focus on NOT destroying this planet, for FUCK'S sake! And if the only way we have to explore space right now is by damaging our already fucked up environment even more, then NEWSFLASH, BABY - this is not the TIME to do space travel yet! AND SPECIALLY NOT FOR BILLIONAIRE SPACE TOURISM.

[justthehiddleswrites]

All Dressed Up | Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Summary: You and Tom have been a relationship for some time. While it used to feel exciting and fun, now feels like you two are stuck in a rut. You decide that Tom's wardrobe needs an upgrade. But will he appreciate your effort?

Warnings: maybe implied smut

-

“I think Tom and I’s relationship is getting stale,” you complained while you stirred your coffee.

Your best friend stared from across the table in some state of disbelief.

“I don’t buy that,” she replied, “the two of you are always trying new things.”

You grumbled as you picked at the blueberry scone on the plate. You let the crumbs coat your fingers as you thought about the first year of your relationship with Tom. The start had been thrilling and adventurous. The two of you had met at a BAFTA event. Tom looked devastatingly handsome in his single-breasted tux. The beginnings of his now full beard just starting to show themselves.

The two of you had wined and dined those first several months, whether at restaurants or at your respective homes. But all that faded into the background, once you moved in with Tom. Fancy suits and pretty dresses had given way to threadbare shirts and workout clothes.  “Well, I think the honeymoon phase is over. Most nights are TV on the couch and snoring in the bedroom. He doesn’t even try anymore.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well… when we first got together, we both put such effort in our appearance. But now, I’m lucky if he is wearing pants without holes in them!”

“Maybe he is trying to tell you something,” your friend replied with a wink, trying to lighten the mood.

“Yeah, that he needs new clothes! I swear Tom will wear something into the ground and just wish he would put more of an effort sometimes. it is like I am dating a hobo and not a world class actor.”

“Trying telling him that.”

Your eyes lit up as an idea popped into your head.

“I have an even better idea!”

You paid the bill as you said your goodbyes. Your best friend noticed that glint in your eyes. Your ideas rarely worked out. She just hoped you didn’t anything too stupid or crazy. But there was no use in trying to stop you.

***

As soon as you got home, you rushed into your shared closet. Instead of telling Tom you wanted he dress nicer, you thought you just show him. Tom was out of town for a few days, completing some reshoots on his most recent project. Just enough time to put your plan into action. First off, you grabbed all the jeans from his side, throwing them on the bed. Carefully examining each pair, you threw out any pairs with any holes. That left about three pairs. You repeated the process with his sweaters and shirts.

Once done,  you turned to the dresser. The workout clothes were the worst. Nearly everything had stains, holes, or rips. There was only one outfit worth keeping. You realized you would need to replace much of Tom’s wardrobe. But first you needed to get rid of the old clothes to prevent their re-entry into Tom’s wardrobe rotation. It took several bags and three trips to the dumpster.  Just as you shut the door, the phone rang.  It was Tom.  

“Hello, honey!”

“Hello, darling. You sound out of breath. What on earth are you doing?”

You panicked. You would rather not tell Tom your plans just yet for fear he would make you fish the clothes out of the bin.

“Just some spring cleaning. Just wanted the place to look nice when you get back.”

“That’s unnecessary, darling, but I appreciate the thought. I love our home as long as you are in it.”

You winced as the sweet words came from his mouth. Should you go through this? Maybe you should just talk to him? You thought about digging out his clothes.

“Darling? You okay?”

Tom’s voice snapped you out of your mental quandary and back to reality.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired. Hey, I was thinking about picking up some new clothes. Just to replace some worn-out things. Need anything?”

Tom contemplated a moment before responding.

“Not that I can think of. But have fun and don’t forget to pick out a dress for Ben’s party on Saturday. Shit! You had forgotten about Benedict and Sophie’s party. You can’t remember the occasion, but the dress code was cocktail wear. Your worry melted away into joy. This would be the perfect time to make your point.

“Thank you for reminding me. I think I will pick out something new.”

The two of you said your goodbyes and hung up the phone and wiped sweat from your brow, not sure if it was from the physical exertion or the act of lying to Tom. Convincing yourself the lie was for the best, you set off to finish your tasks.

***

You spent most of the next day in stores. First up was Nike, where you dropped what felt like a small fortune replacing Tom’s jogging attire. All black naturally. Now if you just get him to stop layering all at once in the winter. You hit up John Smedley and picked up two new sweater, one blue and one blue-gray. It was a new color for Tom, but you thought it would bring out his eyes. Not like he needed any help.

You scoured the shops for the perfect dress for Saturday; you finally found it at Coast. It was low cut but tasteful and the color complemented your skin tone and eye color. If this didn’t get the blood flowing, you didn’t know what would. You lugged all the purchases and set out putting it all away. You had just clipped the last tag and folded the last shirt when you discovered a key turning in the lock.

“Tom!”

You rushed down the hall and took a running leap at him. Tom dropped his bag just in time to catch you as you slid across the floor into his arms. He steadied the two of you before clasping your face and pulling you into a deep kiss.

“I have missed you,” he breathed as the two of you parted.

“I missed you too,” you replied, and you pecked his lips again.

Tom headed up to the bedroom to unpack, while you headed to the kitchen to start on supper.

“Darling!”

You heard Tom call to you across the house. His voice sounded neither happy nor mad but there was a tone of concern. You shuffled up to the bedroom to face the conversation you had been dreading. You arrived to see Tom staring into a drawer.

“What is all this?”

“Workout clothes,” you quipped back, ignoring the real question.

“I noticed. What happened to the old ones? Like my Nike sweatshirt and shorts.”

“I replaced them. With the same stuff. Just without the holes and stains.”

You avoided eye contact.

“But I liked the old ones.”

You could pick up an edge when he said liked. You may have miscalculated his attachment to the old clothes. Too late to go back, you trudged forward into what was looking now like an argument.

“I know but they looked so ratty so I threw them out,” you mumbled as you headed into the closet, hoping he wouldn’t hear or notice your words.

How wrong you were.

“You.. WHAT?!?”

Tom appeared at the door of the closet. His nostrils flared and a crimson color reached up his neck. You thought to cower, but you screwed up your courage.

“I. Threw. Them. Out.”

You enunciated each word, putting emphasis.

“Why in the hell would you do that? They were perfectly suitable clothes. You had no right to get rid of them!”

“They were not perfectly suitable! They were holey and ripped. You looked like a hobo! I’m tired of thinking like I am dating a homeless drug addict. I’m dating Tom fucking Hiddleston! You are better than this!”

“I either dress like I’m going to a red carpet event or like a homeless drug addict, there’s no in between!”

“Well, if I have to choose, I would rather take the red carpet! I think you don’t care anymore and where does that leave us?!” As soon as the words left your mouth, you collapsed into tears. You had never said it or even thought it, but it was true. If Tom didn’t think you were the effort to dress up, then perhaps your relationship was on its last legs. And the thought of your world without Tom in it was too hard to bear.

Tom’s expression softened and his anger turned to concern.

“Darling…” he started with hesitation. “What does my clothes have to do with our relationship? They are just clothes. And if you have seen any paparazzi photos, you would know I perfected the ‘homeless drug addict’ look years before I met you. But my feelings have and never will change.”

You gave him a weak smile.

“Except that I feel like I will hate my credit card bill next month,” Tom quipped as he gestured at the new clothes hanging in the closet.

You started laughing, and he stepped forward to envelope you in a hug. The two of you embraced and kissed. Tom held you out at arm’s length.

“Now why don’t you show my some of these new purchases? See what kind of damage you have wrecked before I send someone to go digging through the trash.”

With glee and pride, you took Tom around to show him each purchase, explaining your reasoning for each. Tom nodded and made the odd comment, but mostly was silent. You pointed out all the items you kept, including his well-worn gray boots.

“So…” you asked, turning your head as though preparing for a blow.

“I think…” Tom ran his hands through his beard in contemplation. “You put a lot of thought and effort in this. Thank you.”

With that, he kissed your forehead and headed back out to finish unpacking.

“That’s it?”

“Pretty much. I appreciate your effort and I love you for it.”

What a letdown, you thought as you left to return to the kitchen to finish dinner. You had expected more, but you were happy he was not still angry. As you finished up dinner, Tom’s favorite, and called him down to dinner. He came into the room, hands behind his back.

“It looks lovely, darling.”

“Your favorite.”

“I noticed. I also noticed that with your little clean out, we have more space in the closet.”

You cast your eyes downward.

“Yeah. I might have gotten a little overzealous. Sorry.”

You sniffled as you could feel tears threatening to reappear.

“Well, it is just as well because your new dress will take up a lot of space and my clothes as well.”

You put your utensils down, confused.

“I don’t understand. I already have my new dress for Saturday. You saw the bag hanging in the closet.”

“I don’t mean that one.”

With that, Tom slid a small red box onto your place setting. There was no stopping the tears now. With trembling fingers, Tom opened the box to reveal a beautiful solitaire ring.

“The plan was to do this on Saturday at Ben and Sophie’s but they will just have to deal with the disappointment. Y/N,” Tom kneeled down. “Despite your itchy trigger finger when it comes to my wardrobe, I love you with all my heart. And I can think of nothing I would want more than you as my bride. Will you marry me?”

You nodded your head as words failed you.

“Is that a yes?” Tom teased.

“Yes, you idiot! Of course, I will marry you.”

You throw your arms around his neck and he lifted you in a deep embrace. Tom lowered you so he could place the ring on your finger. A perfect fit. You stood there admiring your new hardware, and then you felt Tom nuzzle against your neck.

“What do you say we go to the room and celebrate properly?”

Tom swept you off your feet, literally, and carried you into the bedroom for some proper celebrating.

***

The following morning, you lie awake in bedroom admiring the ring in the light. It was a dream. You feel the rough scratch of whiskers on your shoulder. You turned to see Tom, now awake, but just.

“Tom?”

“Hmm, yes?”

“Where were you hiding the ring?”

Tom’s mouth stretched in a Cheshire cat grin.

“Well, until this trip in my workout clothes drawer, but I was afraid you would find it, so I packed it with me. Looks like I was right.”

“I guess you were. How mad are Ben and Sophie going to be?”

“Furious, I’m sure but they will get over it once I ask Ben to be my best man.”

You giggled and thought about Benedict getting mad at Tom only to turn around and forgive moments later at the request of being Tom’s best man.

“I’m sure. And I will ask Sophie to let the kids be attendants.”

“Sounds like an excellent plan.” Tom got out of bed. “Now if you don’t mind, I am going to go for a run.”

You turned on your side as Tom got dressed. As he headed out, he leaned over to kiss you. You turned to see Tom wearing some very ratty jogging clothes. You shot up in bed.

“Where the hell did those come from?”

Tom grinned and chuckled. “You forgot about my travel clothes, darling. And you will never get a hold of these.”

You lept out of bed and took chase after your fiance.

“Give those to me, Hiddleston!”

“Never!”

And with that, Tom slammed the door and headed for his daily jog while you sulked, staring at the front door.