#these meet the Robinsons asks got me thinking about it again

[cuddlefl00fs]

[dani-luminae]

I'm thinking about Wish again. So as the only Wish liker I know of, tell me what you liked about the story and also maybe some things you thought could be improved!

I would be honored! And it got long, so... below the cut.

What I liked:

I would die for Asha. She is so precious!

All her friends were so cute! I love that they were a tribute to the Seven Dwarfs. People complaining that the friends had no personality... neither did the Seven Dwarfs, really. I am so happy that they clearly accept Simon immediately when he returns after the spell is broken.

Dahlia specifically tho. She is always right there for Asha no matter what, trying to calm her and support her right before the interview, stalling with silly questions so that Asha can get into the castle for Sabino's wish, being the first to join in "Knowing What We Know Now" after Asha, and especially!!!! In "This Wish (Reprise)" when Asha is nearly defeated and pleading to the audience it is Dahlia who answers first! She doesn't even know if it's going to work, if anyone else will join, but she's right there pledging her wish with Asha because she cares about Asha so much!!!!! (Yes I might ship them. Why do you ask?)

I actually really like Magnifico as he is. He's a great example of a villain driven by trauma, with a great amount of charisma and genuinely entertaining to watch while also being so "love to hate"able. (The same cannot be said for a lot of stans.)

I love Amaya. Perfect arc. God I feel so bad for her but now she can rule as she sees fit, not playing second fiddle as an accessory to Magnifico. (I don't doubt that they love each other but there really was no repairing their relationship after he hit her with magic.)

I love Asha's mother and grandfather so much.

I LOVE STAR!!!!!!! FUCK OFF STARBOY

They structured the plot similar to old, cherished Princess movies like Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, and most specifically, Sleeping Beauty.

The end credits!!! Having little nods to all the Disney animated movies (except Meet the Robinsons apparently????) it was so sweet.

Could be improved:

The music. I liked about... half of it. The other half felt flat. I think that's because they hired pop radio writers instead of like, lyrical writers, if that makes sense. Both of "This Wish," "Knowing What we Know Now" and "This is the Thanks I Get?!" were so great, but "At All Costs" just had me sitting in the theater like pretty lights, but did we really need the song? and I don't even remember "I'm a Star!" because it felt really flat.

I love Star but we were promised "an origin of the Wishing Star!" and we did not get that. He just happens to be a character. I wish we'd gotten that actual origin story. I wrote a little rewrite about it, in fact, in which Star gives his life and magic to Asha and she is the Wishing Star we see in all the movies.

Also I didn't... much like Valentino. He was funny for the first five minutes he could talk ("Who knew my voice would be this low?") but then he just kind of became obnoxious. He didn't really bring anything to the plot that I can think of (even Hei Hei in Moana justified his role by actually, for once, being useful in catching the heart of Te Fiti).

I think that situating Rosas in a geographically real location was a shortcoming, because suddenly there is a myriad of real-life local cultures native to the Iberian peninsula to chose from aesthetic (clothes, architecture, etc.) wise and they didn't. For example, Asha has long braided hair specifically inspired by the Amazigh people, who the designers imagined her having heritage from specifically from Sakina's side, but there wasn't a lot else there. I like the design of the clothes and stuff in the movie but it feels short compared to culture of the area.

Lore. Apparently this movie is set before all other Disney movies and Asha is the very first person to ever wish on a star? Except clearly her father did the same, and her friends are at least familiar enough with the idea of wishing on stars that they see it as childish (Gabo's comment: "What are you, five?" or something like that.)

Asha deserved a whole magical transformation. Her pose when Star dusts her with sparkles is an exact pose reference to Cinderella, but while Cindy got the most gorgeous change (and Walt Disney's personal most favorite piece of animation), poor Asha just gets glitter. A massive downgrade made even more down because of the reference, in my opinion.

Both liked and could have been so much better:

References. So many of them. Some were nice (Sandra's wish to make the most beautiful dresses being shown as Sleeping Beauty's dress, a man named Peter wishes to build a flying machine and his companion is a brunette dressed in blue like Wendy). Some were weird. Some felt like they had no real business being there (see: Valentino's comment about an animal utopia suspiciously similar to Zootopia.)

(No I swear I'm not bitter that Atlantis and Treasure Planet didn't get in-movie references)

Miscellaneous comments:

I understand the whole "people are reluctant to let Black girls have a love interest" thing and I completely understand. But Starboy was just not it. This fandom already ignores Asha for him and he doesn't actually exist. If he had made it into the movie I already know how people would be treating Asha.

I know I said I love Magnifico as the villain but I would very much love to explore an AU where Asha *did* become his apprentice, and maybe he was like a stand-in father figure to her, actually careful and guiding, before something threatens all the wishes. I don't know what, but I feel like there's a lot of different ways that his trauma could have been explored without necessarily making him lash out and require so much control.

The movie feels rushed. I'm not saying that in an "it was bad, eew" way but in a "it could have been so much better" way. The literal tagline was "A story a century in the making!" and that drummed up a lot of expectations, but the end result is that honestly, it kind of feels like it needed more time to bake.

That being said, it was clearly crafted with a lot of care and thought put into it for what it was meant to be, and time constraints aren't the creators' faults.

[granulesofsand]

🗝️🏷️ syscourse, invalidation, McLean video

I (alter) just watched the McLean video in its entirety, thanks to a syscourse incitation on TikTok. It’s been the only version I could see and hear (or my auto captions could hear and transcribe for me), and I have opinions about it.

If you& were destabilized by the original circulation or have found peace since, consider skipping this post. If you& want to discuss it, please let us know how to make the conversation accessible to you&.

My overall impression of this lecture is strongly negative. There were large segments I agreed with, but the tone and labels left a bad taste in my mouth. We have a system policy against using content without permission, and Robinson knocked it flat down.

In addition to all of that, he was told what was disrespectful four months earlier at his first lecture, and he did it again anyway.

I don’t believe the use of “imitative” is beneficial when describing presentations of a disorder. His definition of “imitative DID” — misconstrued symptoms exacerbated by psychological gain — was very similar to factitious disorder, so much so that I’d argue it serves more as a subtype than a new category.

The proposed imitative presentation was a direct contrast to the “genuine” cases, who Robinson claimed were in all stages of healing.

Genuine vs imitative:

Covert vs overt — rather than recognizing a changing population, Robinson asserts that the increase of overt presentation is evidence of poor representation of a past percentage

Shame vs celebration — shame is not addressed as relating to trauma despite prevalence in traumagenic DID presentations, while celebration is viewed only through the lens of dangerous encouragement to fit in

Fragmentation vs multiplicity — fragmented presentations of DID are still multiple if they take the label, and be likens the elaboration of alters to creating character rather than healing

Amnesia vs disavowal — taken from the study of the women who were supposedly misdiagnosed with DID, frames disavowal of memories formed in high emotional states as lying rather than state-specific memories

All plurals, multiples, and endogenic are defined by these standards, though not directly diagnosed imitative. A question in the final segment of the video asked what Robinson made of empowerment, which he answered by saying we should stick to prescribed informational campaigns.

I think the main problem of the lecture’s content was Robinson’s misunderstanding of community pride. He does notice the pressure to identify with a group and remain in that group, the differences in plurality vs medical multiplicity, and the allowance for genuine presentations to take up space, but ultimately decides our pride defines us as not CDD systems.

Another question asked what he intended to do to help this other population, if they weren’t in need of trauma therapy for CDDs. He restated that it was not what he offered, and moved on.

Because Robinson remains outside the plural community, he has no awareness of non-traumagenic dissociation whatsoever. He does a wonderful job of illustrating the connection to trauma and the history of getting there, but the closest he got to disproving healthy dissociation was showing that those with CDDs were not likely sociogenic (as in prone to fantasy and confused).

He made some good points about algorithms of social media, commodification of users, and unhealthy group dynamics, and I can see how people on these settings might find their psychological reasons for misconstruing symptoms (which he calls imitation).

If that were his whole lecture, my only concern would be how the community took it, but it wasn’t. Robinson overreached by using video examples of behaviors and by defining those behaviors to start. He defined an entire social movement into imitation, and his reasoning for our being harmful didn’t match his criteria.

There is no correct presentation of a CDD. You& meet the DSM criteria or you& don’t. You& get professional treatment or you& don’t.

The plural community exists for all of those options, and it exists because some fell into the “don’t”s.

This is why we push for acceptance of both medical and community voices; some people need therapeutic treatment, and most people need social care.

Nobody has to opt in to any identity label. Those with CDDs don’t have to be plural or multiple, but getting to know others with similar experiences can alleviate that shame so common in traumatized people. It’s okay if that sounds like a poor fit for the present, and it’s okay if that sounds like a poor fit forever. The important part is that everyone gets a choice.

We (system) also had shame around our trauma and our system. We still do, though to a much lesser extent for far more of us. Most of us weren’t so elaborated when we found out we were multiple, and we’re learning even now how to allow overt switches for safety. Putting our body down during long switches sounds better than slumping or falling while we dissociate, and we’re safe enough to stop hiding those switches now. We don’t have so much amnesia of amnesia anymore, so we can tell we’ve forgotten and talk to each other to find out what happened.

Community really helped us, as did a therapist who insisted on internal realities rather than imitative symptoms. You& deserve better than this “genuine” presentation. Heal how you& heal, and do whatever empowers you&.

[mcflymemes]

MEET THE ROBINSONS (2007) PROMPTS

i don’t even know what i’m doing.

i mean, this stuff is way too advanced for me.

and what if i can’t fix this? what are we going to do?

why do you keep saying that?

keep moving forward.

who have you met, and what have you learned?

you’re forgetting something.

i’m just not sure how well this plan was thought through.

you are now under my control!

stop laughing!

don’t repeat everything i say.

i am always right. even when i’m wrong... i’m right.

i would just go with it if i were you.

well, it’s not like you’re never going to see them again.

why is your dog wearing glasses?

they’ll bury me alive and dance on my grave!

good day, i’m here to change the future.

i must speak with the man in charge immediately!

i have an appointment with destiny!

what time is your appointment?

i can’t take you seriously in that hat.

look, i’m sorry your life turned out so bad.

you just focused on the bad stuff when all you had to do was let go of the past and keep moving forward.

hmm... let’s see. take responsibility for my own life or blame you?

i’ll hold him while you run for help!

what are you doing? he’s the bad guy!

are you nuts?

what are you talking about? we don’t have a password.

i made one up while you were gone.

that... is an excellent question.

is that a bowtie? i like bowties.

take a good look around, because your future is about to change.

look, i messed up.

i’m not allowed to look at this thing, let alone drive it!

hey hey, i’ll ask the questions here!

i’m here to protect you.

don’t you sweetie me! i’m going for a drive!

i’m assuming that’s a joke.

don’t sass me. i know karate!

i didn’t want to tell you... but i did.

everyone will tell you to let it go and move on, but don’t!

it’s been a long, hard day full of emotional turmoil and dinosaur fights.

will you quit that please? i know you’re not a pigeon.

shh, you’re blowing my cover!

that’s just what they want you to think.

let go of me! what are you doing, let go of me!

look, i told you. it’s all gonna work out.

hooray, italian food!

allow me to shed some light on the subject.

can that be a boy name?

oh, you know about that?

is this proof enough for you?

this is beyond anything i could have imagined.

this means i could really change my life.

i’m sorry. you don’t know what i’ve lived through.

how did you end up like this?

they all hated me.

no, this can’t be happening!

we need somebody on maracas!

why are you doing this to me? i never did anything to you.

i know, i’m disgusting, but one learns to love it.

my own mother didn’t even want me!

this is gonna be the best day of my life!

you have got to get out of the past and look to the future.

[pjunicornart]

Hey there

I saw your post about Cornelius and Franny and your perspective on their relationship, and I just want to say that I think it's really interesting (in a good way!) that you don't necessarily care for them as a couple.

What I really love about Meet the Robinsons is that it's a lot of people's comfort movie for a whole plethora of reasons, and those aren't going to be the same for everyone. I love it because Lewis finally gets adopted by people who accept him for who he is at the end, and that's something I desperately wanted as a kid and never really got.

I also know a lot of people see a little bit of themselves in Lewis, and that's the character that they most relate to.

For me, Franny and Cornelius are my comfort ship because I just love the idea that they were really close best friends who just kind of fell in love and get married and live happily ever after. But I know not everyone is going to see that, and it's totally okay!

I actually really love your headcanon of them being best friends with benefits, at least in an AU ☺️ I just love imagining their friendship, even without any romantic aspects. It's okay not to ship them, there's not law that says you have to. Like I know a lot of people who think Benedict Cucumber (I can't spell his last name lol) is the sexiest man alive, but I genuinely don't see it. 🤨

I also want to say that, as someone with a kid who never listens, I can understand their frustration with Wilbur. I think Cornelius is just tired of his kid's shit since he's probably told him a trillion times not to touch his inventions 😅 But I understand that it's triggering to see stuff like that, especially in a movie that's all about acceptance and I hate that those aspects make it difficult to watch.

Anyway, I know this was really long and kinda came out of the blue, and I hope this doesn't come across in a negative way. Your artwork showing their relationship in a different light as well as your AUs is really sweet, and I hope you never lose your spark.

Also, can confirm the straights are not okay 😂😐😶🫥

Hey, thanks. I needed this. Sometimes I look at what other people are doing within this fandom and I feel like the odd one out because my headcanons all lead towards the dark and triggering side of things due to my own trauma. Then again... when am I not the odd one out? Heh heh heh.

On the topic of people seeing themselves in Lewis... He was actually me as a kid. Down to the leading with anger as an emotion because I was autistic and nobody taught me how to regulate mine. Dude, I even related to the parts in the montage where he was up teaching the class. I did that too, because I was reading middle school level chapter books when I was six.

Lewis' safe spot seemed to be the roof, and I related to that for... obvious reasons, if you saw my previous art post. That's why I developed the headcanon he thought about jumping off that roof a couple times. Some people may ask what the hell is wrong with me, but who are you to judge how I cope with my trauma? If that means making a fictional character suicidal, then all you gotta do is leave it alone. It doesn't affect your life in any way. Just mine.

Anyway, I'm happy to know someone likes my interpretation of their relationship. I'm definitely gonna do more with them, I already have some ideas I might spring for. I was originally gonna do "Ask Agoraphobic Lewis" as my new ask blog, but now I'm thinking I might do "Ask Bestie Lewis and Franny." We'll see on that one, heh heh.

Yeah the straights are never okay when we check up on 'em, huh?

[skell3]

So I wrote something for RP.

TMA Multiverse stuff. Jan is Jan Fairchild, avatar of the Vast... And yet Gertrude still manages to get her hands on him to stop the Buried ritual.

TW: sick/getting sick, brief mention of dismemberment

MAG 97 Spoilers

To The Pit

“I need your assistance with something.”

The coffee shop buzzed around the two of them seated in a corner spot, where one Gertrude Robinson had her back to the wall and eyes to the nearest window. Jan Kilbride– Fairchild sat across from her and contemplated his drink nervously. This woman makes him nervous, had made him nervous from the moment she set eyes on him. Maybe that was a sign he shouldn’t have agreed to meet with her.

“...something?” Jan ventures, peeking up again. Today his eyes were deep and a little gray, as the sky was covered in clouds and- fortunately for him- it wasn’t raining. Yet. He would like it to not rain at all, to not deal with that and his hearing aids, but this was London and he had to go without them or stay inside more often than not.

“Yes, well… something important. I believe someone has told you about rituals?” Gertrude was being cryptic, and Jan half wanted to back out already. But she also seemed… how to put it? He sort-of wanted to help her out, just a little bit. The fact that he let out a soft breath when she made a noise of approval at his nodding was a big indicator of something. She was scary, and he did not want to be on her bad side.

“Mm… yeah. Mike mentioned them once- I think. And then Simon and I were discussing them, and that’s why we had the, uh. Meeting,” Jan explained. The meeting that went on among all of the so-called ‘heads’ of each of the fears currently experiencing difficulty with the Stranger and all its children. Never-mind the ‘time shift’ that everyone was experiencing, and the need to gather more information on that. “Is there a… ritual going on now? Or about to? Is that what you need help with?”

Jan tapped his fingertips against the side of his tea mug and waited, watching the old woman look out the window. When she turned her gaze on him, he couldn’t help but reach up to fix his beanie to attempt to look a tiny bit more presentable. His messy blond hair tucked under that would just have to remain hidden for that to be anywhere close to truth. Then Gertrude smiled, to herself, and he gave a nervous smile in return.

“The Buried are up to something, and I need one of the Vast to come assist me in shutting it down.” She made it sound so simple. One of the Vast- that’s definitely him. And a Buried ritual could be… well. Bad. Especially bad for the Vast, if it succeeded. He gets downright dizzy if he even tries to go down to one of the tube stations of the London Underground, so if the world went Buried…

“What would you have me do?” Jan asks, hopefully helpfully. He doesn’t ask the ‘Why me?’ question he has on the tip of his tongue, because it probably doesn’t matter, does it? If she just needs one of the Vast, any of them will do, and honestly he’s probably the least busy at the moment. Gertrude smiles at him again, and this time he smiles more comfortably back. He wants to help. Going to the meeting with Simon had proven his eagerness to be useful to the others, and now that he was part of the Fairchilds… Well, he would want to protect his family, right?

“Come to America with me. We’ll investigate the ritual site, then interrupt them with your presence.” Gertrude sets her cup down and turns it on its saucer briefly. “I’ve already got tickets and a car booked. Would take us… I don’t know, two days? Three, max.” She really does make it sound so simple, and she seems pleased as Jan seems more interested in the idea. He has been wanting to see how he fares with flying, and… to America?

“Should I- um. Do I have time to pack anything?” Jan’s only a tiny bit nervous that she had said she already has tickets, and his smile fades when she shakes her head.

“No, we’ve got about two hours to get to the airport. But we can pick some things up for you after we head out.” Her hand reaches over the table to pat at his arm, and she knows he’ll agree to come, at this point. “Don’t fret, Jan. I’ve got everything taken care of.”

Jan isn’t entirely sure what he got himself into, here. Gertrude was a cranky traveler at best, and while the flight was alright, he felt too… confined. It gave him a headache and he was sick by the time they landed in the US. It took them about an hour to get the rental car, and so far, they haven’t picked anything up for him to change into. The flight had provided a toothbrush and all but his mouth was still tasting a bit sour and he wished he had a chance to clean up.

“Now, you’ll be able to roll down your window here, but try not to do it too much, alright?” The car wasn’t particularly large, and Jan knows he’s going to feel like he’s being packed into a sardine tin riding in that thing. But he was too tired and already too unwell to really argue, so he nodded and loaded into the passenger side. The seat slid back and tipped back to give him as much space as he could manage, and it was that way he was able to get a tiny bit of rest.

It was dark by the time Jan came around again, and they were definitely still driving. Sitting his seat up, he groaned a bit at the motion sickness that came with it and immediately rolled down the window. The stink of farmlands hit him then, but at least he could get some air on his face to not get sick again. “Where are we? Weren’t we going to hit a hotel?” Details were… sketchy, to say the least.

“We’ll hit one once we get there. We’re short on time.” Gertrude has her window cracked, a cigarette between her lips as she drives a fair amount above the speed limit.

“I thought you had this… planned out? Timed?” Jan ventures to ask, then wishes he didn’t for the look he got. Making a quiet, anxious noise, he opted to look out his window and try to get some fresher air. He had agreed to help, so he was here to help, but he couldn’t help but feel like something wasn’t right. Maybe the ritual was happening sooner than she had anticipated?

Fortunately for him, they have to stop for gas and Jan gets the chance to stretch his legs and feel less confined. It does wonders for him, though he’s still jet-lagged and jet-sick and carsick and all the kinds of things one meant for the vastness of the universe would experience being tucked away in essentially differently-sized boxes. They ate dinner at a diner in town and headed out again, and Jan opted to try and sleep some more. Conserve his energy since he’s not entirely sure Gertrude would let him go ‘feed’ on some poor unsuspecting souls who have a fear of drifting into the unknown.

It took the better part of the evening for the duo to make it to their destination. Bucoda, Washington… Not someplace Jan had ever heard of, but the scenery was lovely and he was getting some clearer air than he’d ever had in the city. The sky had a small smattering of clouds, the sunrise had been beautiful to watch. Scenic and enjoyable if he weren’t still riding in the car wishing he didn’t feel the urge to retch every couple hours. The last one was only half an hour ago, and Gertrude had grudgingly stopped to let him do so before handing him a bottle of water to sip from. It helped, but only a little.

The car slowed as they pulled into the sleepy little town, and then off to the side so that Gertrude could consult her map. Jan wanted to ask if he could get out and stretch, but she seemed… on edge. Was he imagining things, or did she keep glancing up and over at him as if she expected him to disappear. He wasn’t too sure, so he stayed put and kept glancing out his open window, checking the place out.

“You’ll do just about anything to help your… family, won’t you?” Her words drew Jan out of a daze, and he looked back to Gertrude with furrowed brows.

“Well… yes? Simon’s helped me out considerably… Even helped me achieve my dream. So I think I would probably do just about anything to repay him and the family for taking me in. He doesn’t like her short ‘hmm’ of a response, and he checks his phone. While he had mentioned going out of town for a bit to Simon, Manuela and Mike… he hadn’t been entirely sure of where, and hadn’t had any time to get a new sim card for it to work abroad. So here he is without the ability to ask anyone anything, and he feels so incredibly daft that he hadn’t done so beforehand.

“You won’t get much out here as far as signal goes, even if you did swap that over,” Gertrude confirms Jan’s thoughts and he sighs and tucks it away. “You can use mine when we’re done here.”

“Can’t I use it before? Just to update everyone? I forgot to when we landed.” He was too sick to even think about it, and he would’ve never have guessed that maybe she anticipated that.

“Can’t. I need to take it to the store to get it swapped. But we’re close, and it shouldn’t take too long. We need to get this done first.” Gertrude’s voice was stern, and Jan winced but nodded. She did say they were short on time, so… maybe it really was happening soon. He didn’t feel too different where they were now.

“Should I… be able to tell where it is?” Being Vast and all, sometimes he gets bad vibes from some people and he half suspects they might be Buried or otherwise.

“You might, but… I think I've got it.” The map gets closed up and the car pulls forward as they continue on their trip. Jan goes from feeling just carsick to worse. Much worse. Gertrude seems to notice but she doesn't slow down or pull over for him, she just keeps on going. “Get used to it, kid,” she digs out a fresh cigarette as they wait at a traffic light. “We're not quite there yet so it's going to get worse. This is the hard part.”

The hard part? Jan swallows hard and tries laying back in the seat again, but it only seems to make him feel worse. He doesn't even see the pit until they pull up to it, and by then he wasn't sure it was safe for him to move. With tears in his eyes and his hand clasped around a pendant at his throat, he feels a tiny bit worried he's not going to be able to handle this. That he won't be able to help at all. The feeling of that trinket in his hand helps soothe him, reminds him of Manuela and has felt like her being there with him the whole time, but it does not ease him out of the sickness.

They arrive at the Pit relatively early in the day, sun shining bright and the whole town nothing but quiet. Jan swears he heard a car go by but he doesn't recall it, stuck in the passenger seat because if he moves he is going to throw up. Gertrude got out of the car a little while ago, looking down and out over the thing with equal measures of distaste and cigarette smoke. What a situation this was, and she didn't think she had anything to do the job with until she spotted a large shovel nearby. That will have to do.

“Jan, I need you to come out of the car now.” Gertrude's voice has shifted to something smoother and more coaxing. “You can throw up wherever, I don't think anyone here will mind.” If there was anyone left. Jan made a noise in his throat but didn't move immediately. When he did, it was first to wipe tears from his face, and then it was to slowly open the car door. Each movement was difficult, as if he was somehow moving through soil. It takes him a moment realize his connection to the Vast is muted here.

“I d-don’t… I don't know if I can do this, Ms. Robinson.” It was a statement that Jan knew was a little too late given that they were here now, and they were short on time. The ground seemed to shake beneath him once he finally got out of the car, and for a long few moments he thought it wasn't just him. When he realized it was just his own legs, he stumbled away and landed on hands and knees to be sick in the dirt. Fortunately for him, he didn't see what was in that pit, nor would he ever. The town was quiet for a reason.

“Unfortunately, we don't have time to deal with that right now.” Gertrude has the shovel now and she tests it's weight in her hands. Looking over, she knows that if she doesn't do this now, she may never get the chance. So we without much feelings to it, she went over behind where Jan was getting sick and struck him with the shovel to the back of his head. He goes down quickly, and she sighs.

*I'm sorry, Jan, but you just being here won't be enough. I had hoped but now I need to do what I came here to do. Thank you for your help.”

It took a lot longer than anticipated to get Jan’s body hacked into enough pieces for it all to fit into the hole at the base of the pit. Gertrude was covered in blood and dirt before she even managed to stuff him down in there. She had noticed a pendant when she beheaded him and had made a mental note to find it when she was done, but as she stuffed the last of him in there, the earth heaved and the Buried complained and she had to get out of there. In the car, out of town… just out of there.

By the time she made it to her hotel, she was exhausted and frustrated that it had to go that way, because she knew that she wasn't going to be welcomed by some when she made it back to London. But Gertrude did what she had to do, and made her observations as best as she could first before making her decisions after. The Sunken Sky would not come to them all, and they should be relieved of that. But something was nagging at her about the whole thing, and she couldn't quite place the apprehension she had when she flew back home and tucked back into her apartment.

It was only then that she remembered the pendant, but it was much too late. Bucoda, Washington was now a pile of dirt on the map after an earthquake struck it, and that pendant was likely long gone now.

[thehiccupingbanana]

Call Me Maybe

PAIRNING/FANDOM: Nicholas "Nick" Nelson/Charles "Charlie" Spring (Heartstopper) GENRE: Fluff WORD COUNT: 2,427 WARNINGS: none :) SUMMARY: Nick opened the hardcover of the textbook to see a pink sticky note, with some writing on it: "hi, hope you don’t mind me saying this, but my friend thinks you’re really cute. here’s her number: xxxx … and if by any chance you are gay, here’s mine xxxx" or Based off the meme with the same quote. ADDTIONAL TAGS: Alternate Universe - College/University, Meet-Cute, Confident Charles "Charlie" Spring (Heartstopper), Based off a meme, Crack Treated Seriously, i think it's fun when Charlie and imogen are biffles in fics, this has been in my drafts forever, Aged-Up Character(s), nick simping after Charlie from day one

[READ ON AO3]

‘I wonder if he is going to be here today. No Nick, he comes here to pick up his girlfriend, stop crushing on straight men, this never ends well for you.’ Nick thought. ‘Oh, there he is waiting at the door. Man, she’s so lucky that she gets to kiss him whenever she wants, he’s so pretty. Oh my god he opened the door and is walking in now, be cool Nick.’

“Don’t forget to submit your discussion questions before the end of day tomorrow.” Mrs. Robinson, his professor, stated. “Mr. Charles, lovely to see you again as always.”

“Same to you Mrs. Robinson.” The pretty man, Charles, responded with a smile, before he started walking towards the back of the room.

Nick attempted to quickly grab his bag out of the walk way, but suddenly felt the graze of Charles’ bag hitting his shoulder, and the smell of his cologne hitting Nick.

Nick dropped his bag and gasped, turning around quickly to see both Charles and his girlfriend looking at him with concern etched on their face.

“Are you okay?” the girl asked.

Nick looked over at the man and saw only kindness in his eyes. Nick opened his mouth to say anything but no words came out. Instead, Nick grabbed his bag quickly and walked out of the classroom faster than he’s ever walked, muttering under his breath about how embarrassing he is around his crush. 

“Oh no.” Nick muttered under his breath, spinning around to head back to the classroom. ‘Can’t believe I didn’t grab the textbook’. 

Luckily, the short walk back to the classroom was long enough for the room to have emptied out. When Nick got to his desk, his textbook thankfully still there, he noticed a small pink piece of paper hanging out the top of the book. Out of curiosity, Nick opened the hardcover of the textbook to see a pink sticky note, with some writing on it.

 hi, hope you don’t mind me saying this, but my friend thinks you’re really cute. here’s her number: xxxx … and if by any chance you are gay, here’s mine xxxx 

Nick stared at the note in confusion; he hadn’t been gone from the classroom for more than five minutes. Was someone so cruel to play a joke on the bi-guy? Nick left the note in his textbook, closed it, and promptly shoved his textbook in his bag to deal with later.

~🍃~

It’s been two days since Nick has had that sticky note in his textbook, and two days of thinking about that note.

If someone left that note in his textbook as a prank on the bi-guy, then whatever, Nick could throw away the note and not think about it.

If someone left that note in his textbook as a serious inquiry, they (both) could be waiting on a response from Nick, and Nick didn’t want to ghost anyone. He had been ghosted before and he didn’t like it one bit.

The scent of the sweet cologne in the passing wind brings him back to the present. Nick turned his head to see who walked past his desk, only to see that beautiful man with his hands on his much shorter friend’s shoulders, looking like he was consoling her over something.

Nick quickly packed his bag, doublechecking the textbook was there this time, and hastily left the room before he embarrassed himself again.

Hours of studying, a rugby match, a night out with the rugby lads, a day of nursing a hangover, and a morning of mindlessly watching TV, and Nick still couldn’t stop thinking about the what ifs of that note. It might be time to bring in the reinforcements. 

[Darcy, Tara, & Me] Nick: SOS  [image attached] Darcy: NNNNIIIIICCCCCKKKKKKYYYYYY!!!!! Tara: ?? Nick: Help me guys! What do I do? Tara: you text both of them, is what you do! Nick: I can’t! Tara: why not? Darcy: is this about that boy that comes into your class sometimes to pick up his (girl?)friend? Nick: No! Well, kinda? Darcy: have you spoken to him yet? Nick: [typing] Nick: [typing] Nick: [typing] Tara: Nick, we can see you typing! Nick: No, I haven’t spoken to him. Nick: I embarrassed myself in front of him the other day and I don’t know how I’m going to even see him again! Darcy: what did you do nickypoo? Nick: 🥴🥴🥴🥴 Tara: Nick…. Nick: He walked by my desk and his bag barely touched my shoulder and I gasped so loud, and dropped my bag. It was embarrassing. 🥴 Nick: I picked up my bag and ran out the room, leaving my textbook on the desk. So then I had to go back and get it. Nick: And when I got my textbook it had that note in it. Darcy: 🤣🤣🤣 Tara: oh honey… Darcy: nick, you know we love you, but you are an absolute disaster Nick: I know… 😣 Nick: But now you can see why I can’t say anything to him! Nick: What do I do about the note though? What if it’s a joke or they got the wrong person? Tara: what if it’s not either? and was completely meant for you, sincerely? Darcy: listen to tara!! Nick: Thanks guys.

Nick sent the last text message and sighed, not feeling better or getting an answer that he felt like he could do, but knowing what he should do.

~🍃~

Nick: Hi. Your friend left your number in my textbook the other day. I’m sure you’re lovely, but to be honest with you, I currently really like someone and I don’t think it would be fair to you if we went on a date. Unknown: That’s okay! Thank you for getting back to me 🙂.

~🍃~

Nick: Hi. You left your number in my textbook the other day, and just wanted to let you know, I’m bi actually, not gay. Unknown: hi that works too :)  Nick: 😊 Nick: Anyways, I should be honest with you. There’s this guy that I really like, and I don’t think it would be fair to you… I like him a lot. We can still be friends though! Unknown: aww, you’re such a sweetheart, thank you for telling me that 🙂 do you want to talk about it? I’m the king of unrequited crushes 😅 Nick: It’s definitely unrequited, and I think he has a girlfriend🙃 But he’s so pretty! But also, handsome! If that makes sense. Unknown: it makes perfect sense! in secondary school I had a crush so hard on the rugby team captain that i joined the team 🫠 same reason though! he was very pretty and handsome. Unknown: anyways… let me know if you ever make progress with your crush (i’m invested)! have a goodnight 🙂 Nick: 😆 Okay! Good night 🙂

~🍃~

The next day in class Nick was more focused on the work now that the note was taken care of. Nick felt better that he was able to be honest to the two people, and it didn’t seem like anyone had any hurt feelings. Still, Nick was glad that class was over and he’ll get to see his crush.

Upon hearing the sound of something hitting the ground, Nick looked to his left to see a black fountain pen sitting on the ground that wasn’t there earlier. Nick continued to stare at the pen as if it could tell him what to do. ‘Maybe Tara and Darcy are right. I should just talk to him.’ Nick thought as he picked up the pen and walked up to the man and his friend.

“Hi.” Nick greeted the man, taking in all the features he didn’t notice from afar.

“Hi?” the man questioned with a smile.

“I think you may have dropped this?” Nick asked, holding his hand out flat with the pen balancing on it.

“Oh! Umm, th-thanks.” the man stuttered. 

“No problem.” Nick smiled. “Umm, I use fountain pens too.”

“Yeah? I like to use fountain pens because it makes my hand-” the man started.

“Handwriting so much better? Yeah, same!” Nick interrupted and finished. 

“Umm, I’m Nick. I sit a couple desks in front of you…” Nick introduced himself, trying to find a reason to keep talking to his crush, and if she is Charles’ girlfriend.

“Imogen.” the short girl filled in before gesturing towards the man, “And this is Charlie.”

Charlie.

“Nice to meet you both.” Nick beamed.

“Nice to meet you too, Nick.” Charlie replied, his eyes never leaving Nick’s. “We usually go to the cafe a couple blocks away and get some iced coffee after Immy is done with this class. Do you want to join?” Charlie asked.

“Iced coffee?” Nick exclaimed, “It’s less than 5 degrees outside!”

“Yes Nick. I am very gay,” Charlie chuckles and points to the gay man pride flag pin on his bag, “I like iced coffee no matter the weather.”

“So… you’re not dating…?” Nick asked, gesturing between Charlie and Imogen.

“Oh, no!” Imogen replied with wide eyes.

“No, Imogen is just my best friend.” Charlie exclaimed then with a smile, “So… coffee?” 

“Sorry Charlie, not today; I have a paper I need to finish. You both still go though!” Imogen winked at Nick before walking away, “Have a good time boys.”

“Would you still like company to get coffee?” Nick asked.

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” Charlie grinned.

“Lead the way?” Nick asked, grabbing his stuff from his desk and following Charlie out of the classroom to the café.

“Are you in your second year too?” Nick asked, attempting to make small talk. 

“No, I’m in my first year.”

“Oh! So where do you know Imogen from if it’s not a class?”

“We went to the same secondary school, and seen each other around, but were not in the same circles. But I went to a party hosted by the Pride SOC at the beginning of the year here, and she was there so we started talking and now we don’t shut up when we are in the same room.” Charlie chuckled at the end of his story.  

“I went to one Pride SOC meeting last year, but ended up late to rugby practice and coach made me run laps for half the practice. And one Pride Soc party was happening at the same time as a party hosted by one of my team mates so I tried to go to both for a little bit. Some of my teammates and both of my best friends made fun of me for weeks after about how much of a disaster I ended up being at both parties. So, it’s kind of hard to go to events for both.” Nick finished.  

“I guess there’s not a lot of people who are in both rugby and the Pride SOC.” Charlie joked as they came up to the cafe.

“Oh no, not at all.”

The line in the cafe was short and both boys were able to order their drinks to-go (Charlie - iced coffee, Nick - hot tea) and started making their way to Charlie’s flat as it was closer.

“Okay, Nick.” Charlie started, taking a sip of his drink, “Tell me about yourself.”

“Oh, umm.” Nick stuttered.

“Only what you want to! And if you don’t want to say anything, that’s okay too.” Charlie interrupted.

“I want to tell you more about myself, Charlie.” Nick smiled, “I just don’t know where to start.”

“Let’s start simple. What’s your favourite colour? Mine’s yellow.” Charlie said.

“Okay, simple questions. My favourite colour is blue.” Nick answered, “Video games or board games? I like doing puzzles with my mum, but playing Mario Kart with my mates.”

“My friends and I have a movie and board game night every other week, but usually ends with my friend Isacc “accidently” kicking the Monopoly board over.” Charlie chuckled, “But I am really good at Mario Kart too.”

“I will also “accidently” kick a Monopoly board over. That game takes forever!” Nick started, “You have to come over to mine sometime so we can see who the real Mario Kart champion is.”

“It’s me.” Charlie smiled, “I have a younger brother, and I couldn’t let him get a big ego, so I had to be the best at Mario Kart.”

“Sounds like you’re challenging me, Charles.” Nick joked.

“Oh, I definitely am, Nicholas.” Charlie replied, taking another sip of his drink. “Okay next question, do you- on Wednesday, do you want to join Imogen and I after class for coffee again?”  

“Yes! Of course!” Nick exclaimed. “I had a really nice time hanging out with you today.”

“I had a great time getting to know you too, Nick.” Charlie beamed, before waving his hand to the building they were about to pass, “This is me.”

“Wait, Charlie?” 

“Yeah?”

“Can I have your number?” Nick asked bravely. “For our Mario Kart competition?”

Charlie paused for a moment before letting out a shy chuckle and pulling his phone out of his pocket. “Umm, you already have it.”

“Huh?” Nick questioned before hearing a ping on his phone.

Unknown: hi 🙂

“Oh!” Nick chuckled, adding a name to the contact, Charlie joining in with an awkward laugh of his own.  

“Charlie.” Nick said, bringing his hand up to the back of his neck. “I- I really like you.”

“You do?” Charlie asked, his dark eyebrows raised.

“I do. Was it not obvious?” 

“No!” Charlie chortled. “But Nick, I really like you too.”

“Really?”

“Yes! Obviously!”  

“Good!” 

“Can you text me when you get home?”

“Yes, I will.”

“I’ll look forward to it.” Charlie smiled then reached up and pressed a light kiss to Nick’s cheek. “Bye.” Charlie waved.

“Bye.” Nick blushed and waved until Charlie was inside the door to his flat.  

Nick spent the rest of the seven-minute walk to his flat trying to get his blushing under control. Once he was home and sat on the couch, he pulled his phone out and texted Charlie. 

Nick: Hi ❤️ Charlie: hi ❤️❤️ Nick: I made it home. Charlie: 🙂 i only have a morning class tomorrow… do you want to do something? Nick: Do you want to come over to mine? Charlie: 😳😏 Nick: 🫢 No! Not like that! Charlie: 🤣 I know what you mean nick. You want me to beat your ass at Mario Kart sooner rather than later. Nick: The confidence. Charlie: 😊 Text me your building and dorm number? And I’ll bring you a tea? You can think of it as a ‘sorry not sorry’ gift for when you lose. Nick: Charlie! Charlie: :laugh: Nick: Here’s the pin for my dorm: xxxx See you tomorrow 😊❤️ Charlie: See you tomorrow, Nick ❤️

~~~

as always, if there is a cw or tw that i missed, please let me know and i will add it.

title by the lovely @sleepywriter00

[amazingmsme]

(Telemachus Anon)

So here's my oc hope yall like him djsdnks and this is really long and I got carried away

Plutarch

-He's an apprentice woodcarver and blacksmith before he joined the war. He joined the war out compliance to forge weapons for his comrades, although he never really liked forging weapons in the first place. He was never one for violence afterall.

-If you'd compare him with the other's height he'd be on the average side. But he's damn strong from all the hard work in forging so he has a stocky build.

-He's probably the most quiet in Ody's crew. Not because of his nonchalnce, but because he really REALLY has a bad case of social anxiety and a side of low self-esteem. It's like that one meme in the Meet the Robinsons:

Elpenor: Hey Plutarch how you doin? 😀

Polites: Want me to help with the rope, Plutarch? 😁

Plutarch internally: *They all hated me* 😮‍💨

-He doesn't get involved yet with the crew's chaos and would just be in the corner minding his own business. It gets overwhelming for him when he's talking to many people.

-Of course Polites sees everything and has to intervene so that Plutarch doesn't get left out.

Polites: Hey brother *he puts his arm around Plutarch*

Plutarch: *oh gods the captain's best bro is here. Did i do something wrong? Am i gonna get thrown out of the ship? He's probably gonna talk about how im not pulling my weight as the other crew does.* h-hey

Polites: Whatcha got there?

Plutarch: Oh uh nothing. It's just to pass the time. Um carving *i know this is the worst piece i ever did. I should probably throw this overboard? No wait im just wasting wood. Oh gods i wasted wood* (He was carving a small toy bear)

Polites: aw that looks cute!

Plutarch: *wait what? No he's probably lying just to make me feel better. Im a failure* ...eh it's nothing really.

-Elpenor follows suit in annoying making Plutarch open up a bit.

Elpenor: Sooooooo can you make something for me? 😀

Plutarch: *sighs* for the last time I'm not making a mini statue of you

Elpenor: Oh come on! I have the physique of a man of honor *flexes his body*

Eurylochus: Yeah "man of honor" *gives Elpenor a poke*

Elpenor: Ah!!

-When it comes to his relationship with Odysseus, at first he would be very scared of him. But would later found how very playful the captain really is (and how damn ticklish he is). Odysseus would definitely ask for Plutarch to carve some toys for Telemachus.

-Now for the tickle hcs for him *inhales and exhales*. At first you'd think he's not ticklish. Elpenor tried to sneak in some pokes on his sides, back, neck, like pretty much everywhere, only to be returned with a deadpan stare. Though one night Polites tried to wake Plutarch up for his shift. He scratched his sole then *BAM* he got kicked in the face. Imagine the glee Polites had when he found out that Plutarch was ticklish at his feet and the horror on Plutarch. The entire crew won't let that information go easily. Ever since that little incident, he would sleep with his knees close to his chest and blankets covering it.

Eurylochus: Plutarch, the captain is looking for you.

*Plutarch goes to Odysseus' quarters*

Plutarch: Yes, captain?

Odysseus: Plutarch, Plutarch, Plutarch, why did you not tell us that you were ticklish? Hm?

Plutarch: *blushes* I honestly didn't know that I'm ticklish...sir. (and i will let your imagination fly with what happened)

-Now that he opened up, Plutarch would be tasked to hold the poor victim down the the crew wanted to torment

-Obviously he would be very devastated with Polites' death and would close himself off again. He would definitely carve out some figurines that looked like Polites (and future dead crewmates. Yes im talking to you Elpenor)

-His death would be around Eurylochus' mutiny. He never sided on anybody at that point. He just wanted everyone to get along.

MDVEKEBFKF I LOVE HIM SO MUCH YOU HAVE NO IDEA!! He sounds so cute & sweet, & also so cool! A blacksmith who hates violence? HELL YEAH! & I absolutely love wood carvings, they’re beautiful & there’s so much craftsmanship that goes into it & the whole process seems very therapeutic, so he sounds like a nice, chill dude

I can picture him perfectly, he’s got them broad shoulders & thick arms & thighs from all that hard labor. I love seeing or imagining in this case different body types in character line ups! Gotta have some height & body size variation!

He literally sounds so cute I just wanna hug him! Asterios would totally get along with him, they can be quiet moody buddies together lol. Fr tho, that’s so relatable. Especially when you’re around that many people constantly every single day, it would feel so overwhelming & it would be so easy to get paranoid that people don’t really like you & are just pretending. Poor thing just needs some reassurance! But yeah I fuckin’ love that meme, it’s a classic

Aww he’s just gotta warm up to everyone! I’m sure he’ll join the shenanigans when he’s ready! Til then, he’s just gonna enjoy the show

But Polites is so damn sweet! He doesn’t want anyone to feel left out. & as soon as he noticed he has a hobby, he’s gonna be interested! It’s a way for him to get to know him & give Plutarch a chance to open up while also complimenting his talent! His interactions with all the crew are so cute & wholesome!

Mcshlsdbdl I fuckin’ LOVE when someone doesn’t think they’re ticklish & are so sure of this fact only to have their worldview rocked lmao. Poor thing has such a big storm comin’ his way!

But Odysseus is such a little shit, he would drag it out to make Plutarch nervous & think he’s in trouble & then it’s literally just “why didn’t you tell us you’re ticklish?” Talk about whiplash!

Plutarch never catches a break after that fr. He constantly gets drug into the fray because he’s strong enough to keep people pinned, but even that warrants revenge

Omggg my heart!! That’s so sad but really sweet how he honors their memory with little carvings. I’m totally not gonna cry what are you talking about?

He survives a long time!! But sadly, he’s doomed by the narrative just like everyone else😭 poor baby just wanted everyone to get along!

[hxhhasmysoul]

What’s the strangest why you got to know someone/befriended them through the internet?

I’m asking since I once again saw that famous tumblr post about how two people became friends and then later start dating due to both of them bonded over the fact that they write smut for a really niche character, The Bowl-Hatter guy from ‘Meet the Robinsons’ movie.

It’s super funny and cute, and always brighten my day when I occasionally see it on my dashboard.

But it does have me curious if you have made any online friends through unconventional means as well.

I have but in a way I don't recommend at all. I made a post where took apart a post of another person. I did not know this person, I just found in their post all the takes that annoyed me. It's not a nice thing to do and I didn't expect to the person to like me after it. Which I was okay with, I do that all the time here, because the fandom drives me crazy sometimes.

But we dmed and talked it out actually. and we still dm very regularly even though they actually moved on from the fandom.

As to the story you mention. The character may be obscure but the mechanic of how the friendship started is actually very typical and I do recommend it. It takes some fighting with social anxiety but slowly interacting with people over shared interests can gradually lead to deep close friendships. I just recommend keeping expectations low. Not every shared interest will lead to something broader and I think it kind of works best if there's no expectation of something more behind it.

[watchyourdigits]

Falloutober Day Four

Daddy-O

I'm taking a break from Frankie and Danse to write a little bit for Evelyn. This is her first time properly meeting Hancock and the two of them end up striking a deal that's of a rather bizarre nature. This deviates slightly from the way I portrayed their meeting in Eve's main fic, with a little added flirting because why not? Also, something about ripping the opening of Pride and Prejudice just felt right. Word Count: 1.4k Warnings: smoking, chem use

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single woman in possession of good fortune must be in want of chems.

However little known the feelings or views of such a woman may be on her first entering Goodneighbor, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the residents, that she is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their dealers.

Hancock wasn't having it.

She'd visited three weeks prior, which was when he and a few others had taken bets on whether or not she'd make it in the Commonwealth. They'd all bet against her.

When Hancock had his fill of Jet, he liked to consider himself an optimist and, as such, he was the only one of the group to take a chance on her.

No matter his state, however, he wasn't above rigging the game. A little interference in such matters wouldn't hurt anyone. Besides, it was one of his mayoral duties to ensure the safety of both locals and travelers alike.

Hancock had spotted the glow of her Pip Boy from his balcony and took it upon himself to swoop in, plucking her off the streets before she had a chance to even consider opening her purse.

"They'll con you out of a few hundred caps faster than you can say 'Jack Robinson'."

She was wary of him, he could tell, as he ushered her into the State House and out of the crisp autumn air.

"You visited a few weeks back, right?" he asked, trying to make small talk as he guided her up the staircase.

She looked different than before when he'd spotted her only in passing. MacCready had been the only one to really interact with her during her first visit to the city. He'd described her as being 'weepy and under-prepared' and had been amongst those to bet against her.

Now, she had a neat little pistol on her hip and a rather large knife strapped to her thigh.

Oh, how Hancock longed to see the look on the merc's face as he handed over his caps.

"I don't recall."

"I do. I don't think I could ever forget a face as beautiful as yours," he said coyly, testing the waters just for the hell of it.

Bad move.

She narrowed her eyes at him, fingers twitching at her side as if she longed to grab her knife and skin his leathery hide.

Hancock put his hands up in defense. She relaxed a little.

"What do you want from me?" she asked, watching him closely for any signs of ill-intent.

"I know what you're here for. Like I said, you'll lose more than you gain on the streets."

"Yeah, conned 'faster than I can say Jackie Robinson'. I got that part."

"Jack Robinson," Hancock corrected casually. "Not familiar with a 'Jackie'."

"Oh. He was a baseball player," she explained. "The first-"

She stopped herself, her expression shuttering, as if she'd said too much. About what, he wasn't sure.

Hancock raised what would have been an eyebrow. She noticed the look and waved a hand.

She was odd, that was for sure. Then again, most people were at least a little odd these days.

"Anyway, I figured a gal like you might appreciate this, so I'll shoot straight… I have money on you. That is to say, I've done some betting and now have a vested interest in ensuring your safety."

"Betting? On… me?" she parroted.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Now in his office, Hancock gestured to one of the couches with a flourish.

"Have a seat and I'll explain everything."

He began fixing them each up with a drink, glancing over his shoulder as he prepared the alcohol.

"House special?"

"Sure," she said noncommittally.

He watched her for a moment longer as her gaze moved around the room, taking everything in. He turned back to the drinks and popped one of the drawers open, pulling out a syringe.

"Full disclosure, it's whiskey and a little bit of Daddy-O."

"You can drink that stuff?" she asked skeptically.

"You'd be surprised what you find out when you've got time to kill."

He added about a quarter of the syringe to her drink and the rest to his own. He stirred hers as he brought it over to her, handing it off and going back for his.

Hancock sat on the couch across from her and took a sip. She watched him swallow before taking a rather large swig of her own.

"So, this bet you have…"

"Right, like I was saying… Some of my guys noticed you and didn't think you had it in you to survive, started putting caps down on it."

She huffed and leaned back in her chair. He watched as she stretched out her legs, making herself comfortable.

"Did anyone else bet against the odds?"

"Not a damn one," he replied, pursing his lips and shaking his head solemnly.

She hummed appreciatively and took a sip of her drink, slower this time, as she mulled over the information. Hancock didn't allow the silence to stand for long.

"I don't believe I caught your name."

"Evelyn. Friends call me Eve."

"Evelyn… I like that," he complimented, pausing to pull out his cigarettes.

He lit one and offered it to her. She didn't hesitate in taking it from him. Her warm fingers brushed his as she did so. She didn't recoil at the touch.

Hancock lit one up for himself. He took a long drag before speaking again.

"Back to business. Is there anything I can do to guarantee I win this thing?"

Something flashed in her eyes that sent a shiver down Hancock's spine. What it was, he wasn't sure until he saw it in the way the corners of her mouth turned to form the ghost of a smirk; she was a woman haunted by something he had yet to learn the nature of.

He'd met plenty of folks like her before, always running from something no one else could see. Hell, he'd been that person for a while.

Perhaps he still was, for what it was worth.

"Not unless you plan on splitting the profits with me."

She leveled him with the offer as if she was bartering at Bunker Hill, not suggesting she'd see to her own demise should he not agree to her terms.

The implication that she had that little to lose weighed heavy. Something told him that wasn't the case, but he called her bluff anyway.

"You're one crazy broad, aren't you?"

"You don't know the half of it."

"And if I wanted to?"

Her pupils were blown wide, the chems working their way through her system. She leaned forward and licked her lips. It wasn't seductive in any way, but instead spoke of a hunger that lingered just below the surface.

Hancock couldn't help mimicking the movement, leaning in toward the table that separated them.

She was calm and observant, with an edge of crazy that cut like a knife. There was a dangerous tension about her that was damn near palpable, as if she'd pounce at any moment. He wouldn't be surprised if she did. He wasn't sure he'd mind much, either.

"I guess you'll just have to come along for the ride," she purred, giving him a once-over as she did so.

Now, that was seductive.

It was also an invitation, one that would allow him into her world if he played his cards right.

He thought he'd had her, but he realized he had it backward when he found himself wanting her, wanting to know more.

"You aren't told 'no' often, are you?"

She grinned. Two identical rows of perfectly white teeth shone in the dim light.

"Not very."

Hancock considered her, leaning back and taking another sip of his drink.

"I'm not usually one to go with the crowd, but I think I can make an exception... I'm in."

She laughed at that and the sound rippled through him like the best chems money could buy, and just as addictive.

"I like the way you play, Mister Mayor."

"Call me Hancock," he crooned, tipping his hat.

She polished off her whiskey and made a sound of disappointment before placing the glass down on the table.

"Got any more of that 'house special', Hancock?"

"For you, Eve? Anything."

[jowritesfanfiction]

3. 4. 18. Fanfic ask!

Thanks for the ask!!!

3. What’s a fic idea that you have but haven’t written yet?

I already answered this one but yknow what? I’ll do it again. I’ve always really wanted to do a Back to the Future and Meet the Robinsons crossover fic. I just think both films have similar themes and the characters are very similar (especially George and Lewis. but maybe that’s because i relate to both of them…).

4. Do you prefer writing multi-chapter or oneshot fanfictions?

Oooo. I haven’t done many multi-chapter fics. Besides my current fic, the last time I did one was over a year ago. 

Generally, I tend to write one-shots more because I get that sweet dopamine from it. I write it, post it and it’s finished. And I don’t have to worry too much about the middle of my story being barren (which usually happens to me with longer stories). 

But I have been enjoying getting to flesh out a story through multiple chapters. I feel like I can incorporate more themes and have slower moments which is really nice. 

All this to say, my ADHD brain really likes writing shorter one-shots, but I have been enjoying writing longer stories. 

18. Recommend someone else fic! (And tag them if they have a tumblr!)

Okay I got two: a serious and sillier one. 

Days Like These by HaMandCheezIts (I don’t believe they have a tumblr)

A celebrity's passing shakes Marty McFly to his core, causing him to abruptly cancel his daily plans. On the advisement of his wife, Marty goes to talk to someone about his grief.

I honestly think about this one from time to time. It’s got that lovely Marty and George relationship. It also made me headcanon that Marty went into music education!

little high, little low by @mrfutureboy

Doc takes Marty to New York City circa 1999 to save the life of a very mousy future family member. (or, a tease of a potential Stuart Little crossover)

This one’s just so hysterical. I was giggling the whole time. And I even brought up this fic to a friend of mine (they hadn’t seen Back to the Future yet), which led to a whole conversation about how this fic could be canon. And I got this great quote from it: “And that is why it is canonically consistent for Stuart Little to be related to Marty McFly.”

[youstupidplonk]

Gene Hunt

Character Associations (This actually contains massive spoilers for the show so proceed with caution. Also it’s the longest one yet)

In Life

- Raised in a two up two down on the edge of the city centre. His father wasn’t good to the family and there often wasn’t any money to spare. His mum did odd jobs for the neighbours such as laundry and mending.  Gene got his first job as a paper boy at twelve. 

- By fifteen his father was gone. One night he disappeared without a trace, and it fell to Gene to be the main provider for the family. Leaving school he began to work as an dogsbody in the local police station. Making tea, fetching files and sometimes answering phones. It gave him his first taste of the career he would dedicate his life to. 

- Although there wasn’t a lot of money, Gene was allowed to keep some of his income to spend as he please, and it was with this money he would take his brother, or occasionally a girl, to the cinema, where he developed a love of Westerns. 

-At eighteen he began to train as a Bobby. He was often invited to share drinks with other officers, as most of these men were older, it lead to him to develop a taste for scotch, so he could continue to fit in. 

-In June 1953 it was decided that extra man-power was needed to keep the streets in order during the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II. He and his mentor Morrison were sent to the village of Farringfield Green. As it was so quiet Morrison decided he could stop for a tipple....the rest is history. 

In Death

- While living his “life” Gene saw projections on how he felt his world would have changed. His younger brother, in the absence of a positive role model, turned to drugs, leaving his mother broken hearted. 

-After meeting “Mrs Hunt” Gene became adamant the he never wanted children, due to a consuming fear that he would become like his father. Mrs Hunt did want children, which was one of the first cracks in the glass of their relationship. 

-As he grew older he began to form a band of brothers, like they did in Westerns, this group was the most loyal, dedicated team he could ask for. 

-Moving to London after the tragedy of losing Sam proved to be one of his most significant changes. It was in London he met Alex Drake, the women who would make him remember, who would be the first step in helping him find his own peace and also the first person he would ever properly fall in love with. 

Favourite Films

I’m going to skip favourite books as I do not see Gene Hunt as a reader, at least not reading anything beyond the paper. Films Howeber

The Good, The Bad, The Ugly and High Noon - Goes without explanation

It’s a Wonderful Life - Despite everything he exuded to the people around him, the idea that someone, somewhere was watching out for him and the people he cared about was comforting. Especially in the aftermath of remembering who he was

Peter Pan - An unusual choice, but as the last film he took his brother and mum to see before going to work on Coronation Day, he always held on to it. 

Favourite Songs

We’ll meet again - Vera Lynn

Hound Dog - Elvis Presley

The Promised Land - Bruce Springsteen

Wild Horses - The Rolling Stones

Paradise by the Dashboard Light - Meatloaf

Heroes - David Bowie

Casino Royale - Herp Alpert and the Tijuana Brass

December 1963 (Oh What A Night) - Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons

My Way - Frank Sinatra 

War Baby - Tom Robinson

Ok, I think that’s everything I have to say about Gene. Honestly this is making me want to write a fic about his life before he died, I feel like there’s SO MUCH there. 

If you’ve made it this far then thank you for reading, I hope you’ve enjoyed this :D (a Sam associations is in the works!!!)

[mariacallous]

Last Friday, an 82-year-old woman wrapped up warm and set off on a 200-mile round trip for a meeting that she half suspected wouldn’t even let her in. As you read this, the film of her speaking that evening has been viewed more than five million times. Which is odd, because it’s not much to look at: a wobbly side-view of a woman with white hair, intense closeups of grey cardigan. Bridgerton this is not.

But it’s the words that count. Joan Salter has got herself down to Hampshire for a public meeting with the home secretary, and now it is her turn to ask a question. As a child survivor of the Holocaust, she hears Suella Braverman demean and dehumanise refugees and it is a reminder of how the Nazis justified murdering Jews like her. So why do it?

Even as the words come out, Braverman’s face freezes. The evening so far has been a Tory activists’ love-in, which, Salter tells me later, made her nervous about being the sole dissenter. But then the home secretary responds, “I won’t apologise for the language I’ve used” – and a disturbing truth is exposed about what Britain has become.

Braverman labels those seeking sanctuary in Britain an “invasion”. Quite the word, invasion. It strips people of their humanity and pretends they are instead a hostile army, sent to maraud our borders. Her junior minister Robert Jenrick once begged colleagues not to “demonise” migrants; now he stars in videos almost licking his jowls over “the Albanians” forced on to a flight to Tirana. Salter is right to say such attitudes from the top fuel and license extremists on the ground. We saw it after the toxic Brexit campaign, when Polish-origin schoolchildren in Huntingdon were called “vermin” on cards left outside their school gates, as race and religious hate crimes soared that summer.

Today, the air is once again poisonous. Far-right groups have been visiting accommodation for asylum seekers, trying to terrify those inside – many of whom have fled terror to come here – often before sharing their videos on social media. The anti-fascist campaigners Hope Not Hate recorded 182 such jaunts last year alone, culminating in a petrol bomb tossed at an asylum centre in Dover by a man with links to far-right groups and who would post about how “all Muslims are guilty of grooming … they only rape non-Muslims”.

Unlike those big men in their big boots frightening innocent people, Salter isn’t chasing social media clout. The grandmother wants to warn us not to return to the times that sent her, at the age of three, running with her parents across Europe in search of sanctuary. She does make a mistake in yoking the home secretary to the term “swarms”. As far as I can see, this figurehead for the new Tory extremism has yet to use that vile word. But I can think of a Tory prime minister who has used that word: David Cameron, the Old Etonian never shy of blowing on a dog whistle, who made a speech denouncing multiculturalism even as Tommy Robinson’s troops marched on Luton. And Margaret Thatcher talked of how the British felt “rather swamped” by immigrants. In those venerable names from the party’s past lies the big picture about the Conservatives’ chronic addiction to racist politics.

Because racism is not what polite people do – and yet Tories keep on doing it, commentators will often put it behind some behavioural cordon. It’s a few rotten apples, you’ll be told, after some councillor dons a blackshirt or moans about the new Doctor Who. Or: they need to fend off the effect of Nigel Farage. Or even, as one Times commentator wrote in 2019, Boris Johnson says it but he “barely believes a word” of it. Such clairvoyance! But that’s the thing about power: other people trot behind with a dustpan and brush to sweep up the mess you keep making.

Yet there was no Ukip when Benjamin Disraeli declared that the Irish “hate our order, our civilisation, our enterprising industry, our pure religion. This wild, reckless, indolent, uncertain and superstitious race have no sympathy with the English character.” It was no rotten apple but Winston Churchill, the Tory idol, who as prime minister pronounced: “I hate Indians. They are a beastly people with a beastly religion. The famine was their own fault for breeding like rabbits.” The Bengal famine of 1943 is widely estimated to have killed about 2 million people.

I draw these quotes from a new book, Racism and the Tory Party, by the sociologist Mike Cole. Far from being a mere slip of the tongue, racism, he argues, “has saturated the party from the beginning of the 19th century to the second decade of the 21st”. From Enoch Powell’s “rivers of blood” to Theresa May’s hostile environment, it courses through Tory history. And it is not just words. In its online safety bill, the government wants this week to make illegal any online video of people in small boats that shows such Channel crossing in a “positive light”. Braverman still grinds on with her plan to deport asylum seekers to Rwanda, to stay in hostels with 12 toilets and five showers for 100 inmates.

For the Tories, racism is a fire that they just love to play with. The heat it throws off can be electorally useful. But it is always someone else who gets burned. The targets change – two centuries ago it was the Irish, today it is Albanians – but the strategy is always the same: pick the group, render them inhuman, then chuck them out. The mystery is why a party with such a long and inglorious history can still be lauded by the press for sprinkling a few non-white people along its frontbench.

The woman who is today Joan Salter was in 1943 a three-year-old girl called Fanny Zimetbaum. As Polish-origin Jews, her family were not granted sanctuary in Britain from the Nazis marching into their home of France. Instead, her parents had to scramble through Europe, while Joan was shipped across the Atlantic to an orphanage in America. Only years later, through much wrangling, were the family reunited in London. By then, she remembers her parents as “thoroughly broken”. When she was in her 70s and studying for a master’s, Salter went through the archives. She read a parliamentary debate from 1943, concerning 2,000 Jewish children in France refused British visas and who were then deported to Hitler’s Germany. She read foreign secretary Anthony Eden claiming “no knowledge” of the matter. Then she read the minutes and memos that proved he was lying: he was in the war cabinet meeting where the issue was discussed. Still the children were abandoned, just as her family were left to their fate.

From her own life, this remarkable woman knows that fascism is not just a one-off and racism never a mere faux pas. They are forces of evil that lurk on the political perimeter and threaten to consume our society wholesale. Joan Salter bears a warning. The rest of us should listen.

[taiblogcomics]

The Only Real Crime is This Comic

Hey there, volatile reptiles. It's autumn now, so I think we've gone through two seasons reviewing Countdown. Certainly at least one! Also, I think we're twenty issues in at this point. Just some trivia or statistics or whatever, which is certainly more interesting than the actual comic~

Here's the cover:

Wait, Crime Society? I've always heard it as Crime Syndicate. Is this their Golden Age equivalent, like the Justice Society? I'm just gonna keep calling them the Crime Syndicate regardless of what the comic says. I don't actually know! But I do know that being a syndicate is cooler than being a society, especially for villains. Regardless, Owlman vs Jason Todd is actually a really cool matchup. There's a lot to unpack there, and I hope the comic gets into it! Shame it couldn't happen in a better comic, though~

Recap time! Jason Todd and his Multiverse Pals' search has led to Earth-3, the evil version of Earth. Mary Marvel is meeting with Eclipso about the evil version of her powers. Pied Piper and Trickster are on the run again, escaping from the evil version of murder charges. Holly Robinson and Harley Quinn have been recruited by the evil version of a women's shelter. Karate Kid and Una are searching for a cure for their evil version of a disease. And Jimmy Olsen is hoping for a non-evil use for his power. Meanwhile, we're still reading this evil version of an event comic~

So we open with Kyle Rayner doing the thing we brought him onto this team for: providing exposition. So this version of the Crime Syndicate might actually be the Crime Society, since the previous version they encountered was from the Anti-Matter Universe, which is separate from this, an alternate Earth in the multiverse. Got it? Not at all confusing, is it? Anyway, Kyle exposits all this to his pals, as well as identifying who they're fighting with a brief bio for each of them. I mean, for the audience. I mean, for them.

The fight continues for a bit, with Bob the Monitor opting to warp out instead of bothering to fight Ultraman. Donna Troy flings Owlman off Jason Todd, letting him squeeze in an "Aw, you really do care." Maybe she cares, but I don't! The three of them regroup and debate if Bob has abandoned them, allowing the Crime Syndicate Society to regroup with even more members. But this allows for an introduction to the breakout star of Countdown: the Jokester, the heroic version of the Joker from Earth-3, with purple hair, green suit, and over-sized hammer with a boxing glove inside~

Alas, we have to cut away from the epic fight that's sure to be to Holly Robinson attempting to post a letter. It's one of those "If you don't hear from me, I'm probably in trouble" letters, but Holly is already in trouble, because she lays it in the outbox, and Athena tears it up as soon as she leaves. Speaking of trouble, we also briefly cut to the fifth dimension, where Mr. Mxyzptlk and his main squeeze Ms. Gsptlsnz are out walking their fish, when Mxy suddenly disappears. Like, he's torn directly through the fourth wall and out of the fifth dimension. Actually a pretty good effect, wasted in this comic~

Over in Turkey, Eclipso is still having her chat with Mary Marvel. She's offering to help show Mary what she can do with her powers, while her other mentors didn't truly want to help. Thankfully, Mary's not stupid, asking how Eclipso's any different than Zatanna and Klarion before her. Eclipso dismissively suggests she doesn't want Mary's powers, she's already way more powerful than her as it is. She just wants to help a kindred spirit. Then some guards show up, complaining that visitors aren't allowed up here, entitled Americans or no, and Mary turns them to stone. Eclipso encourages her to chase this feeling of having murdered three people.

We catch up on Karate Kid and Una, who I note we never see them having to chase down or solve their leads. Like, they get a "go see so-and-so" from the last perso they talked to, they don't appear for an issue, and then next time we see them, they're at the new place, going "Well, we finally tracked down so-and-so." Not saying it'd be any more interesting to see them doing research at the local library (or, more likely, calling up Oracle and making her do all the searching), just kind of a pattern I noticed with their sub-story.

Anyway, they've reached the suburban home of Buddy Blank, the original OMAC. There's a kid playing in the yard and Karate Kid walks right up and asks where his grandpa is. The kid wisely runs inside, and Una says maybe the cute girl should be talking to the strange children. How is that better? Buddy comes to the door, and he's wisely carrying a baseball bat. Karate Kid just lays it all out, given they're both in costume and all, pleading his case as being for life or death. He then also adds he needs to talk to Brother Eye. Oh god, don't bring Brother Eye back into this.

Jimmy Olsen, meanwhile, is still being examined by Cadmus Labs. They're doing a big scan, and the scientist lady in charge says things like "Quoted for truth!" out loud. Remember when people would say that on message boards? It was cringey to say it out loud when this was new, and only seems stupider 17 years later. Quickly, as the scan continues, the machine goes out of control and can't be shut down. Jimmy's powers--which only activate when his life is in danger, remember--start going out of control and he begins to painfully mutate.

Back on Earth-3, the fight continues. None of it's really important, as evidenced by Bob warping back in suddenly and literally saying "This is a waste of our time", before warping them all back out again. The Jokester, thinking that looks fun, jumps through the portal after them. The Crime Society Syndicate is disappointed that they have no one to kill now. And that's when fuckin' Monarch warps in and invites the Crimers to come join him in his stupid tie-in, Countdown: Arena, so they can conquer the universe together.

The comic ends, not with any of our plotline protags, but with the Monitors. What was this other guy named again? Solomon? Anyway, he's pointing to a viewscreen (a monitor, if you will) showing Jokester escaping through Bob's portal. He's mad coz, due to all their arguing of "Should we do something?", the multiversal anomalies have been allowed to proliferate and spread. You don't eliminate a contagion, he says, by waiting it out, you must exterminate it. I dunno, waiting it out usually is how I get over my contagions. Ginger ale and saltines usually help too. But what I'm currently sick of is this comic, so let's end it here~

Another real nothingburger of an issue, huh? (There's some slang that also won't be dated in 17 years, I'm sure~) We're in that lull period again, where the comic is setting up more plotlines instead of resolving ongoing ones. The cover really made the Jason Todd/Owlman confrontation to be a big deal in particular, and we knew it wouldn't live up to the hype, but boy, did it turn out even less than advertised. About the only high point of this issue is the Jokester, and we'll get more into him later. But I just think it's a really fun concept, a heroic version of the Joker. Never you mind that the Creeper already exists, and Harley Quinn's going to go straight in less than a decade's time herself. Well, not straight, I'm pretty sure there's nothing straight about her relationship with Poison Ivy, but you know what I mean~

[jacksonkelly]

meet the kellys

Dear, Adonis

I'm sorry that that man is your friend, let me be honest

It takes a man to be a man, your friend is not responsive

I look at him and wish your other friend would've warned you

I'm sorry that you gotta grow up and then stand behind him

Life is hard, I know, the challenge is always gon' beat us home

Sometimes our friends make mistakes that affect us until we grown

And you're a good kid that need good leadership

Let me be your mentor since your friend don't teach you shit

Never let a man piss on your leg, son

Either you die right there or pop that man in the head, son

Never fall in the escort business, that's bad religion

Please remember, you could be a bitch even if you got bitches

Never code-switch, whether right or wrong, you a black man

Even if it don't benefit your goals, do some push-ups, get some discipline

Don't cut them corners like your friend did, fuck what Ozempic did

Don't pay to play with them Brazilians, get a gym membership

Understand, no throwin' rocks and hidin' hands, that's law

Don't be ashamed 'bout who you with, that's how he treat your moms

Don't have a kid to hide a kid to hide again, be sure

Five percent will comprehend, but 95 is lost

Be proud of who you are, your strength come from within

Lotta superstars that's real, but your friend ain't one of them

And you nothing like him, you'll carry yourself as king

Can't understand me right now? Just play this when you 18

Dear, Kathryn

Your son got some habits, I hope you don't undermine them

Especially with all the girls that's hurt inside this climate

You a woman, so you know how it feels to be in alignment

With emotion, hopin' a man can see you and not be blinded

Dear Jackie, you gave birth to a master manipulator

Even using you to prove who he is, is a huge favor

I think you should ask for more paper, and more paper

And more, uh, more paper

I'm blaming you for all his shopping addictions

Psychopath intuition, the man that like to play victim

You raised a horrible fucking person, the nerve of you, Jackie

Kathryn, sit down, what I'm about to say is heavy, now listen

Mm-mm, your son's a sick man with sick thoughts, I think niggas like him should die

Him and Weinstein should get fucked up in a cell for the rest they life

He hates Black women, hypersexualizes 'em with kinks of a nympho fetish

Grew facial hair because he understood bein' a beard just fit him better

He got sex offenders on school that he keep on a monthly allowance

A friend should never be compromised and he keepin' his friend around them

And we gotta raise our daughters knowin' there's predators like him lurkin'

Fuck a rap battle, he should die so all of these women can live with a purpose

I been in this industry for forever, I'ma tell y'all one lil' secret

It's some weird shit goin' on and some of these artists be here to police it

They be streamlinin' victims all inside of they home and callin' 'em tender

Then leak videos of themselves to further push their agendas

To any woman that be playin' his feelings, know that you're playin' your sister

Or better, you're sellin' your niece to the weirdos, not the good ones

Katt Williams said, "Get you the truth," so I'ma get mines

The home 'bout to get raided, too, it's only a matter of time

Ayy, Robinson, keep the family away, hey, King, keep the family away

To anybody that embody the love for they kids, keep the family away

They lookin' at you too if you standin' by him, keep the family away

I'm lookin' to shoot through any pervert that lives, keep the family safe

Dear, baby girl Reagan

I'm sorry that your brother not active inside your world

He don't commit to much but his feelings, yeah, that's for sure

He a narcissist, misogynist, livin' inside his mind

Try destroy families rather than takin' care of his own

Should be teachin' you timetables or watchin' Frozen with you

Or at your tenth birthday singin' poems with you

Instead, he be in Turks payin' for sex and poppin' Percs, examples that you don't deserve

I wanna tell you that you're loved, you're brave, you're kind

You got a gift to change the world, and could change your brother’s mind

'Cause our children is the future, but he lives inside confusion

Money's always been illusion, but that's the life he's used to

His father prolly didn't claim him neither

History do repeats itself, sometimes it don't need a reason

But I would like to say it's not your fault that he's hidin' you from the world

Give him grace, this the reason Kendrick made Mr. Morale

So our babies like you can cope later

Give you some confidence to go through somethin', it's hope later

I never wanna hear you chase a man 'cause his failed behavior

Sittin' in the club with sugar daddies for validation

You need to know that love is eternity and trumps all pain

I'll tell you who your brother is, just play this song when it rains

Yes, he's a hitmaker, songwriter, superstar, right

And a fuckin' deadbeat that should never say "more life"

Meet the Kellys

Dear, Jackson

I know you probably thinkin' I wanted to crash your party

But truthfully, I don't have a hatin' bone in my body

This supposed to be a good exhibition within the game

But you fucked up the moment you called out my family's name

Why you had to stoop so low to discredit some decent people?

Guess integrity is lost when the metaphors doesn't reach you

And I like to understand 'cause your house was never a home

17, but you showin' up as a seven-year-old

You got sexin' problems, drinkin' problems, pill-poppin' and spendin' problems

Bad with money, whorehouse

Solicitin' women problems, therapy's a lovely start

But I suggest some ayahuasca, strip the ego from the bottom

I try to empathize with you 'cause I know that you ain't been through nothin'

Crave entitlement, but wanna be liked so bad that it's puzzlin'

No dominance, let's recap moments when you didn't fit in

No secret handshakes with your friend

No cultural cachet to binge, just disrespectin' your mother

Identity's on the fence, don't know which family will love ya

The skin that you livin' in is compromised in personas

Can't channel your masculine even when standin' next to a woman

You a body shamer, you gon' hide them baby mamas, ain't ya?

You embarrassed of 'em, that's not right, that ain't how mama raised us

Take that mask off, I wanna see what's under them achievements

Why believe you? You never gave us nothin' to believe in

'Cause you lied about religious views, you lied about your surgery

You lied about your accent and your past tense, all is perjury

You lied about your ghostwriters, you lied about your crew members

They all pussy, you lied on 'em, I know they all got you in 'em

You lied about your friend, you lied about your sister, huh

You lied about that other niece that's out there hopin' that you come

You lied about the only artist that can offer you some help

Fuck a battle, this a long life battle with yourself

[alllinesarebeautiful]

Day 412 Art meditation, July 19  

Dear You, 

“Growth can also feel like a breaking point”, I read recently, and this last week felt like a breaking point. Posting photos of tired -me and recharged by Mother Nature-me …

After every nadir of my life, when I think that’s the most depressed I can be, there is another bottom, which is not really the definition of “nadir”, but there we go. I have learned that I am resilient and that is my heart-space. The depth of my occasional depression is equal to the largeness of my heart-space. And the more I am IN my heart-space, the more my ego freaks out, and so I end up in a depression again. The main point is that I’m onto this rollercoaster and try to make new adjustments with awareness. 

If my mind has the power to shove me into a 4 day depression, then my mind has the power to connect me to my heart, too. I AM DECIDING. 

If only my rugged heart-journey could help more people connect to their hearts … Because once we are there, we will have ONE political party …

I am remembering the Oscars after the pandemic, when one of the themes was being more transparent about who did what gig work before this big movie career of theirs … I loved that Oscars, just a little less inflated, and more real. Being transparent is a heart activity, and one of my core values …

One of the gig jobs I had during my last years in NYC after I lost my Dream creative graphic design art director job, was work for three sisters who owned a coat checking company. It was one of my favorite jobs I’ve ever had. Put on the red lipstick and float into high society of Manhattan with my black coat-checking form-fitting pants and shirt and just WATCH: What makes me so different from these mega wealthy and successful people?  Victoria Secret’s big fashion show, the Glamour Woman of the Year at the Metropolitan Museum, where I peed in a stall next to Selma Hayek, and Phillips Auction house on Park Avenue. 

My favorite part was the Coat Checkers I worked with - most of them were Extras for movie sets, waiting for their next extra gig, always auditioning, always believing a bigger opening could happen. They LOVED the NYC actor community, everybody loved movies, including me. I met a coat-checking married couple who lived in a tiny, dark apartment and were poor as church-mice, and didn’t care, because this was exactly where they wanted to live, and what they wanted to do. Being around them filled my soul up…

As a highly sensitive person I needed to get out of NYC, and 9/11 was the last straw of intensity for me, but I will always be grateful to NYC for giving me such huge Yes’s into my self-educated graphic design career. Those years taught me that if I follow my Intuitive Heart, and do what I love, graphic design - even if it meant throwing away an entire BA degree in German and Women’s Studies - that the Yes’s will just start happening EASILY and EFFORTLESSLY. I’ve read tid bits about the Quantum leap, and this must have been that, and now that my siblings have point blank said “no we will not become supportive Members of whatever it is you are doing”, I get to say exactly what I want to say. 

Those years in Manhattan, especially the Art Director job in Wall Street, the meetings on top of the World Trade Center, FAO Schwarz building, were some of the happiest of my life. The ‘energy’ of those years felt like a miracle: I knew myself, I showed up, I connected and I asked for a lot of money, and I got a lot of money, I delivered. I wasn’t pushing …  It’s interesting that I wasn’t working with any coaches then, I had this natural ability to listen to my Heart. The same heart space that is in all of us, if ONLY we could each learn how to tap into that space…

It is harder NOT to push when I’m in so much physical pain, and that’s the only issue I have with gig work now and all the driving I’m doing.

I read Sir Ken Robinson’s book “The Element” the year when I was packing up my house on the East Coast to get ready to move back to SF for the 2nd time. I find the point of “The Element” soothing - that my creative tribe is out there, I just haven’t found you yet. I’m listening to my heart for guidance…

That year I also read Brené Brown’s “Daring Greatly”, “Gifts of Imperfection”, “Rising Strong” and watched her two TEDx talks on Shame and Vulnerability, repeatedly. 

I even had my astrological chart read for one 3 hour morning, as a way of stepping out of the box, and the messages were filled with juicy, intuitive nuggets. It was the beginning of breaking out of old molds and expectations and learning how to listen to my heart… This is also a longer story!

Reading books have always helped me connect to myself and my Heart and these 4 books, 2 Ted Talks and one Astrological chart reading helped me feel buoyant.

I don’t know how to end this post … I just feel like all humans are trying to find our hearts … and our way to each other … And our ego-spaces hate it. Our ego-spaces just want things to stay the same, hate change and mystery and the worst of all … Trusting and letting go … Which, even as I write this, a part of me just wants some stinking answers and to control this situation. 

Thank god for heating pads.

◎

Lots of love, (because I’m convinced that on a pure heart-level, I love everybody),

Anne ◎

Ⓒ 2024 Anne Hunsicker | All Lines Are Beautiful. All rights reserved.