#yesterday legitimately feels like. last week

[snailsandstrawberries]

do you remember how yesterday (how was this only yesterday) we were all like hehe theyll probably post the picture with the cardboard cutout lower your expectations guys!!!

...what happened

[guinevereslancelot]

how do i stop feeling like i'm in trouble all the time fr. sitting here on my lunch break like everyone's gonna be soooo mad when u get back...from lunch...which you are allowed to have.....(?)

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

I’m still celebrating a little unofficial Théodred Week, with some specific thoughts on his personal bravery. In Unfinished Tales, we get this assessment of the situation at the battle where Théodred was slain:

“It was clearly seen in Rohan, when the true accounts of the battles at the Fords were known, that Saruman had given special orders that Théodred should at all costs be slain. At the first battle all his fiercest warriors were engaged in reckless assaults upon Théodred and his guard, disregarding other events of the battle, which might otherwise have resulted in a much more damaging defeat for the Rohirrim. When Théodred was at last slain Saruman’s commander (no doubt under orders) seemed satisfied…”.

Have we all sat with the thought of how HORRIFYING that realization must have been??? You’re expecting something like a “normal” battle experience, but all the sudden you notice that enemies are running right past vulnerable soldiers and other obvious and valuable targets because they’re not here for a normal battle. They’re here FOR YOU. How helpless and vulnerable would you feel to discover that your death is their sole objective? How panicked? How confused?

AND YET….he didn’t yield!!! He could have tried to disguise himself as someone other than who he was. He could have run. He could have left his marshals and captains to contest the Fords while he retreated to relative safety, and he could have done that with the legitimate excuse that it was critical to protect himself as the heir to the throne (especially since his father was in such poor condition and Théodred himself had no heir!).

But instead, he did almost the exact opposite. He climbed to the top of a hill, the highest and most visible ground there was. He thundered out a rallying cry to his riders — “To me, Eorlingas!” — as loudly as he could. He might as well have screamed, “Come and get me, motherf*#@ers!” while waving a big sign that said, “I’m right here!” And then he went down swinging, first taking a gruesome, fatal injury and then enduring some horrific fighting over possession of his body in order to pass on his epic last words to Elfhelm and Grimbold (discussed yesterday!).

LOTR is obviously chock full of instances of the greatest and most extreme courage across a whole range of situations and contexts. But in terms of traditional battlefield heroism and bravery, specifically, this is right up there with some of the most impressive examples. And it’s wonderfully in keeping with the familial trait of courage that runs all through the House of Eorl, from Théoden riding out to meet his apparent doom and make an end worthy of song at Helm’s Deep to Éowyn taking on the Witch King himself or Éomer charging headlong into a marauding army with screams of “Death!” Unfinished Tales makes very clear that Théodred stands on equal footing with any of his family when it comes to valor, even if his great deeds aren’t well known within the main story. In fact, when Théoden is dying on the Pelennor Fields and invokes “his fathers,” in whose “mighty company [he] shall not now be ashamed,” he might more appropriately have invoked HIS SON because there is no mightier company he could possibly have by his side.

@sotwk @celeluwhenfics

[sage-green-matcha]

LOVE LETTERS - ETHAN LANDRY 💌

Small love letters Ethan would give you during your 3 years of dating in high school!

Content includes: fluff! Cuteness idk!! Small argument :(

<3

<3

<3

Dear Y/n,

Hi :) you did really well on your project today. I hope you get the grade you want! You look beautiful. Yours, Ethan Landry <3

Dear Y/n,

Hi :) I missed you in 5th period today. Hope you feel better soon! I like your sweater by the way :)) Yours, Ethan Landry <3

To my dear Y/n

You looked so beautiful today, I wish I could see you more throughout the day. I can’t wait to see you later <3 have an amazing day :) - Ethan <3

Dear Y/n!

Today I got an A on my final! I know I was stressing you out since I was freaking out!! Thank you for dealing with me!! I love you, have a good day ;) <3 Yours, Ethan <333

Dear Y/n

I know you’ve been feeling down but I just wanted to say I love you. I can’t wait to see you at lunch. You look pretty like always, hope you feel better soon. Yours, Eth <3

Dear Y/n!

My mom said you can come over for dinner tonight! Don’t get nervous I already know my family is gonna love you. Quinn is practically already in love with you so don’t worry about her. Yours, Ethan Landry <3

Dear Y/n <3

My parents literally adored you. They keep asking when you’re gonna come back. My moms already planning on inviting you to Christmas. Have a great day! I love u and adore u sm! Yours, Ethan :)

Dear Y/n!!!

When you walked into the classroom I was like “What the fuck?!!” You look more than beautiful, I love you and your style so much. You look so good. Style me next lol. From your amazing boyfriend, Ethan Landry <33

Dear Y/n!!!

Meet me at the library after school today? I have a surprise for you! Bring yourself and that’s it! Love you so so much! - Ethan! <3

Dear Y/n

I hope you liked your surprise from yesterday! I can’t wait to see what dress you wear to the prom. I already know you’re gonna look beautiful. Your baby, Eth <3

Dear Y/n <3

I had so much fun at prom with you. I can't stop thinking about you and that beautiful dress of yours. You’re taking over my brain but I’m not complaining. From your cutie of a boyfriend, Ethan Landry!!!

Dear Y/n!!!

I’m so hungry, text me so we can figure out what to get for lunch. Legitimately starving, I could eat you up ;) jk…but also not jk? ANYWAYS! lmk :) - Ethan!! <3

Dear Y/n

I know you’re upset at me. I’m sorry. You know that I will always support you in whatever you do. I was just scared to be away from you and I hope you know I love you and will support all of your decisions. Yours, Ethan Landry <3

Dear Y/n!

I can’t believe you’re leaving me for a whole week. I might just die without you. I hope you have the most fun on your trip! Hopefully, London is as beautiful as you are! (Which is impossible) - Your sad boyfriend, Ethan Landry <3

Dear Y/n

Oh my god, I missed your face so much. Thank you for bringing me all those snacks! I loved getting to see you this weekend. So glad to have you back I was so touch starved - Ethan! <33333

Dear Y/n:

Our last week of high school!!! I can’t wait to move into our apartment soon. You know I love you!! Get to packing! Yours, Eth <3

My dear Y/n

For the last 3 years, I have been writing you letters and giving them to you in between passing periods. Im gonna miss this a lot. But I’m glad that we’re getting to grow together. I'm so thankful for you and all your support. I can’t wait to walk up on that stage and look for you in the crowd. I love you so so much. Maybe when we get settled into our apartment I can write you notes on the fridge with magnets or something. Yours, Ethan Landry <3

[foxglovefaun]

New chems got added to my med regimen yesterday! and probably (hopefully) as no coincidence I slept through the night for the first time in weeks. Yay.

To the folks I sent messages to between November and last week, and to the folks who sent me messages between June and last week but still haven’t heard from me: I love u, I am so sorry. My body, house, and small business are still the only things Ive been able to keep up with rn, but im hoping this med change will help.

Health stuff and mini work update under the cut

The flare im dealing with has been truly massive, starting on Tuesday last week and then just cranking up the intensity until yesterday when my symptoms were at their worst. The snowstorm storm stopped and has given me like two hours of reprieve, but man

Ngl it kinda feels like a joke? Like any time I try to start getting reconnected socially or start working on my projects again my body just

finds a way to shut down.

anyway. It’s very frustrating! ヽ(‘ー`)ノ

But this has put me on my ergonomic journey again! More adaptation. My little ergonomic sketchbook stand thingy is no longer effective to prevent my neck problems so I moved up! I’m hoping to make a lil post about it, but I’ve installed a third arm at my desk that is now specifically for trad media art stuff q:)

So that means sketchbook is finally happening again! And I got new chems to try n manage pain, the comic is moving again, and tbh I feel like my newest art looks better than it ever has. That big gap between June and November didn’t get much art, but it sure as shit got a ton of studying and observation, and im starting to really feel the full benefits of that.

More art posts will happen soon. I just legitimately haven’t been able to have more than a couple hours of lucidity for the past 14 days so everything has fallen behind.

But! Shameless plug, if you don’t wanna wait for my media trickle and want to see more of my art right freaking now, my subscribestar account has a shit ton of sketches, WIPs and other stuff I ain’t posted public yet. Oh and there’s adult stuff, there’s some smut too. :)))

Also my Sketchbook 2024 is available for download over there, as I haven’t been able to add it to my shop yet. so if u wanna take a look and also help a disabled mfing meatball out, that’s totally an option :)

18+ : my subscribestar!

ok I have to go get the rest of my meds going and try to get triaged for a neurologist, but I hope I will be back later

Til then

I love u. Be kind to you. Drink a water. Don’t comply in advance. Keep hope. Eat a food. Make good choices.

[jrow]

May Prompts (19)

Day 18 here. Start from the beginning here. Day 20 here.

Weather

They are talking about the bloody weather.

Sure, he is legitimately thrilled to be outside for the first time in days (even if he is stuck in a wheelchair) and it is unseasonably warm. But still, the weather hardly warrants 10 minutes of conversation. He knows that he and Molly are both avoiding having what might be a slightly uncomfortable conversation. It is so very British.

He sighs and looks at Molly, who is still talking about how Toby loves lying in the sun. Enough is enough.

“Molly,” he interrupts, “do you know if I gave Sherlock his birthday gift? Do you know if he opened it?” There is no point in beating around the bush.

Her shoulders tighten a bit but she lets out a sigh. It’s like she’s both relieved and anxious that they are having this conversation. “You definitely gave it to him. I guess you don’t remember but you were … determined when you went over there that night.” She smiles sadly. “It was about time, if you ask me.”

He takes a deep breath. “I don’t remember getting to Baker Street but … yeah, determined is the right word. I remember feeling that.” He closes his eyes. “Sherlock hasn’t said anything.”

Molly scooches down the bench so she’s closer to him. “He hasn’t opened it,” she stage whispers. She looks around the hospital garden as if making sure no one’s listening. “I popped by Baker Street yesterday—Mrs. Hudson let me in. I wasn’t snooping, I swear! Sherlock borrowed a few files from me last week and I needed them back. I didn’t have the heart to ask him to get them so I just did it myself.” She leans closer. “And your gift was still unwrapped on the coffee table.”

He rubs his hand over his face. “Okay, that answers one question. But why hasn’t he mentioned it at least? Even in his recounting of what happened that night?”

“John,” she says, reaching out and touching his leg. “He’s terrified. And, quite frankly, he has other things on his mind.”

“He feels guilty. It’s obvious.”

“Yes. Incredibly obvious.” She chuckles. “He feels guilty about your fall. You know how he can be. Somehow his silly little brain has decided it’s his fault. I suppose he thinks he should have caught you.”

She makes a good point, but he can’t help but worry it’s something else. “It could be about the gift, though. What if he deduced what’s in the box and feels guilty that he doesn’t want the same.”

She looks to the sky and sighs. “Boys,” she says quietly as if to herself before turning her gaze back towards him. “That’s stupid, John,” she says bluntly.

John leans back, a bit offended. “Come on, you know Sherlock can deduce anything.”

“Not about you!” she says, raising her hands in the air. “You’re his blindspot.” She puts her hands down and takes a deep breath. “And do you really think he’d spend time deducing a birthday gift while you were lying in a hospital bed? I saw him that morning, John. He was a mess. Kept it together on all things Rosie but all in all a mess. He’s not feeling guilty because he thinks he needs to let you down easy.”

John feels slightly chastised but also better. Molly isn’t lying about this. She believes what she’s saying. That’s the best he can hope for.

“Thanks, Molly,” he says, leaning forward to put a hand on her shoulder. “For everything.”

“I’m happy to help. I keep offering to do more with Rosie, but Sherlock refuses. At some point I do want to actually see her when she’s awake!”

He laughs. That all sounds about right.

She shrugs. “You know, I’m not sure Sherlock will get it anyways. When he opens the gift, I mean. You are trusting that present to explain quite a lot. Most people would just see it for what it is. A bit extravagant maybe, but that’s it.”

“He’ll take one look and put the pieces together.”

“Blind spot, John. And then you’ll be forced to use your words. Heaven forbid.”

“He’ll know, Molly.” He takes a breath. “I was determined. I am trying to get that determination back. And … I’m not good with words.”

“You two are a pair in that regard.” She shakes her head and then stands up. “Come on, let’s get back.”

@keirgreeneyes @raina-at @totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @jolieblack @phoenix27884 @friday411 @calaisreno @quimerasyutopias @lisbeth-kk @safedistancefrombeingsmart @momma2boys @helloliriels @dapetty

Let me know if you want to be added or removed 😊

[repeatsquared]

A Life for a Life - 15

Chapter 14 Recap: A nervous Claec tries to find some answers. With the help a Hunter (his sister, Jackie), he gets some light information on the woman who attacked Alex, and sets out to find some answers on his own.

Word Count: 2,283

Trigger Warning: Zilch

-------------------------------------------------------

“Claec, the doctor said a week, I'm fine to go back into the office!”

“As if! Sit back down, I made wings. You had better eat all of them, or I'll rain terror onto the entire city.”

Alex couldn't help but laugh, but he took the plate without any further complaints, sinking into one of the cold wooden chairs at the small dining table, tucked into a corner of the kitchen. It had always been unused, saved for the past few days. They would usually sit and eat, watching and chatting with Claec as he stalked about, cleaning the mess he left behind.

Claec practically moved into the apartment. A small duffle bag housed his clothes and a handful of personal belongings, blankets and a pillow lay scattered over the couch, where he had been sleeping, and the kitchen was almost constantly a mess from the sheer amount of cooking he did. He always seemed to have a reason ready to leave just before Jasmine arrived. They had never formally met, much to Alex's approval.

The food was delicious, as always. He had a knack for cooking. Alex was far from the same level, barely managing to make a decent bowl of instant noodles, let alone craft a plate of wings that tasted far better than any restaurant they had visited. They had frequently made jokes about Claec's real evil plan being to open a restaurant downtown. He would follow up with his thirst for blood and terror. The first time it was said made their blood run cold, but after hearing it multiple times a day they would fall into laughter.

Much to their surprise, the week had been great. They had gone so long without constant company, it was a welcome change to their monotonous routine. The relationship didn’t feel unusual, or even uncomfortable. Alex couldn’t remember the last time the villain had demonstrated his abilities, or even gave them a legitimate reason to feel concerned being in his presence. Even their fears of the woman showing up began to ease away.

“You’re not eating.” The simple statement was enough to lurch Alex from their thoughts, their gaze snapping up to meet Claec, who stood at the table, leaning heavily on one palm while the other rest on his hip, a rag tossed over his shoulder. He wore a mask of annoyance, though concern sat underneath. “Are they not good?”

They smiled, picking one up and sinking their teeth in, humming in mock judgement. “A bit dry. But, it’ll do.”

“The soup you made yesterday was dry.”

“Hey!” They laughed, covering their mouth to avoid spitting out a chunk of chicken. Though, it was nice to see a smile return to his face.

Claec stood for a moment, staring at the table. He seemed lost in thought. Alex was used to letting him work it out on his own, and soon enough he was back to scrubbing some spilled sauce off the counter. “Back to the office tomorrow. I guess I won’t stop you, you look like you’re doing fine.”

Alex hummed in agreement, nodding as they continued to eat. “You must be excited. No longer trapped at my apartment.”

“Ah, yes, corporate wonderland.” Claec’s voice was monotone, they could practically hear him roll his eyes. “How charming.”

They faltered, staring at the plate once more. “I do have a question.”

“What might that be?”

“Why haven’t you done anything since we met?”

It was Claec’s turn to stop. The rag lay under his hand, mid swipe across the counter as he stared. They wished they could see his face, to know what he was thinking.

Eventually, he turned with a grin, leaning back against the counter in that nonchalant way he seemed to have perfected. “As if I’d tell you what I’m plotting!”

“Alright, okay, fine.” They smiled, leaning back in their chair. “Can you at least tell me why-”

Knock, knock, knock.

Three quick raps at the door caught their attention. Alex was quick to stand, rushing to the peep hole. He couldn’t help but smile, spotting Jasmine rocking on her heels, a small bouquet in her hands.

“Is it your girlfriend?” They could hear Claec call from the kitchen, but gave no response, pulling the door open instead.

“Hey!” She grinned, throwing her arms around them with a hum. “How are you doing today?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” They returned her embrace, then the smile, thanking her for the bouquet and ushering her into the apartment.

“I’m on my lunch, so I’ve gotta be quick, but I wanted to say hi.”

“It’s 3 pm, you got your lunch that late?”

“Busy day. Oh!” They turned, seeing she had made her way to the kitchen, rushing forward.

Alex stopped at the entry, watching with a concerned smile as she and Claec stared at one another in silence. It definitely felt… tense.

“Gonna introduce me?” The villain eventually hummed, his gaze snapping from the woman to Alex, a taunting grin dancing on his lips.

Alex blinked, stepping forward with a light dash of red across his cheeks. “Caleb,” They started, speaking slowly. “This is Jasmine. Jasmine, Caleb, the coworker I told you about.”

“Of course.” She smiled stretching a hand towards him. “A pleasure.”

“And you, as well.” He returned the gesture, holding onto her hand for a moment, and her gaze for another moment longer. “I should be going! Got some errands to run.”

“No, please, stay!” She called, grabbing onto his hand before it could retract fully. Alex’s breath hitched when they saw the way he tensed up, his lip curling into a sneer before he could correct it to a smile. Jasmine didn’t seem to notice. “I’ve heard so much about you, I’ve been dying to meet you.”

Alex stared in silence. They could feel the color draining from their face, their eyes glued onto Claec’s, and his onto theirs, both waiting in silence. After too long of a silence, he sighed, that forced but oh so casual smile returning to his lips. “I can stay a bit longer.”

Jasmine hummed in approval, still holding onto his hand as she stepped towards the sitting room, nearly dragging him behind her. Her long hair flowed as she walked, full and swaying with every step. She only let go of him once reaching the sofa, plopping down. Alex sat next to her, with Claec taking a seat across the coffee table. He propped his shoulder on the arm of the chair, his cheek resting on an open palm, as one leg draped lazily across the other. Jasmine curled both legs up, tucking them behind herself as she leaned against a pillow, still smiling and staring straight ahead. Alex sat stiff, leaned forward slightly with hands on their knees, eyes darting nervously between the two.

“So, how did you two meet?” She started, her full attention on the man as she drummed her fingers on the couch cushion.

“Alex was assigned as my trainer and supervisor. They didn’t tell you?” He sounded taunting. Alex shot a pleading look in response, praying for him to at least try being polite.

“They mentioned it, but I just wanted to see if there was anything else!” She laughed once more, not seeming to notice or care. “What made you want to work there?”

“Just a good opportunity for a stable job.”

“Even after that attack? I’d be scared of being so close to all that.”

“Most buildings aren’t hit twice in a row.” He shrugged, leaning back. “There hasn’t been another attack there, right?”

“Not since you’ve been around!”

No laughter that time, just quiet as the two stared. Was that intentional? Were they both just waiting for a response?

It was Claec’s turn to speak. “Why did you ask them out?”

She blinked, their gaze flicking to Alex for only a brief moment. “Well, I just thought they were… you know.” She smiled, lazily playing with her hair. “Pretty cute.”

He hummed in response, narrowing his gaze. “And how long are you planning to stay in town?”

Jasmine stopped again, her smile faltering. Another glance to Alex, though she looked confused that time, almost concerned. “I’m sorry?”

“Well, you’re not from Isola.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You drive a rental?” Claec smiled. Was he toying with her? “And the apartment you live at only offers short-term leases, usually for college students.”

“How do you know where I live?” Jasmine frowned, her legs swinging off the couch and to the ground.

“Alex told me, when they were talking about how they were attacked.” He didn’t change his posture, seeming entertained from her concern. “They didn’t give me your address, don’t worry, I just know that’s the only complex within range of where they were grabbed. But, you never answered my question. How long are you in town for?”

“What the fuck.” She murmured, standing and grabbing at her purse. “You’re a fucking freak!” She started towards the door, Alex rushing after her.

“Jas, wait, I’m-”

“This is the kind of person you hang out with?” She whispered, but her voice was far from quiet as she stood at the door, once hand on the knob. Her eyes were cold as she stared, though her gaze never met theirs.

“He’s not normally-”

They didn’t get to finish their sentence, watching as she stepped out. A flinch shock their body when she slammed the door, staring after her in disbelief for a few moments.

“That was rude.” Claec’s mumbled words grabbed at their attention, pulling their gaze from the door to the man still lazily draped over his chair. “From how you talked, I thought-”

“What the fuck was that?” They cried, storming towards him, their gaze frantic. “You’ve never done that, to anybody! Why now?”

“I just asked her a question.” He shrugged, tipping his head back to better meet their gaze. “I didn’t think it was that serious.”

Alex groaned, dragging their hands down their face as they slumped onto the couch. “How did you know she drives a rental?”

“There’s a big ass sticker on her-”

“How have you seen her car?”

He didn’t seem to have an answer to that, his gaze finally flicking away from Alex in favor of the floor. “I just-”

“It makes you sound like a stalker, Claec. She only just met you and you’re talking about her car, and where she lives, and-”

“I wouldn’t if she wasn’t lying to you!” He suddenly snapped, standing with enough force to push the chair back a couple inches.

It was Alex’s turn to freeze up, their eyes glued to Claec’s, pleading. “What are you talking about?”

The man sighed, a hand working into his hair as he stalked towards the kitchen, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Claec, what are you saying!?” They shouted, standing to rush after him, nearly tripping over a fold in their rug.

“She’s lying!” He called in return. He was back to scrubbing at a stain on the counter. They had never seen him look frantic before, it was an odd sight. “I know she is, I don’t trust her, I-”

“What proof do you have?”

“I don’t need proof, I just know!”

“That’s not good enough!”

The volume of Alex’s voice was enough to shock both of them. Claec stopped scrubbing at the counter, just staring at the shine left behind from the wet rag. Alex’s chest heaved with breaths, just waiting for the inevitable revenge that the villain would inflict upon them. For once, they weren’t afraid of the repercussions. They even doubted that any pain would follow.

And they were right. The man only groaned in response, a hand dragging down his face, then through his hair as he straightened himself, finally turning his attention to his host.

“You’re right.” He murmured, stepping forward.

“You’re right.” He repeated those words, slower the second time, his gaze low, as if he were a child being reprimanded. “I’m sorry. I’m just-”

“Just what?” Alex’s voice came out in a whisper, reaching forward to rest their sweating palm against his shoulder, trying to catch his gaze.

Claec raised their eyes to meet their gaze, his hand following until it was high enough to rest on their cheek. His eyes flicked down for a moment, too fast for Alex to decide what he was looking at. “I’m worried about you. I want to keep you safe.”

They weren’t sure the best way to respond to that. They stared at one another for a few moments, a mutual, understanding silence. Their grip tightened on his shoulder, trying to bring some comfort with the touch.

“You don’t need to worry about me.” They whispered, their free hand moving to rest on the back of his palm, welcoming the contact with their face. It was comforting.

“You are the most incident prone individual I have ever met.” A smile teased at Claec’s lips as he moved his hand, pulling them into a hug. Alex could feel his heart flutter as their head pressed to his chest. “But, okay. I’m sorry.”

“Apologize to her?”

Claec groaned in annoyance, pulling away with a cringe plastered across his face. “Seriously?”

Their deadpan was enough of an answer, waiting impatiently for compliance, only smiling when that requirement was met.

“Thank you.” They hummed, patting his shoulder once more. “I’ll schedule something after she’s calmed down, and you had better not be weird.”

“She called me a freak.”

“I’ll make her apologize as well.”

Claec smiled, turning away to hide the red that dusted his cheeks, returning to his meticulous cleaning of the kitchen.

“You better.”

Chapter 16

-------------------------------------------------------

Okay, I lied, no action. I love dialogue too much, I'm sorry! (I'm not actually sorry, deal with it). My favorite thing is everyone trying to decide whether or not to trust/like Jasmine, all of you are paranoid and it brings me joy.

Also, someone asked why haven't given a description for Alex. I don't like writing self-inserts, so vague descriptions and gender neutral pronouns are my usual go-to for main characters, in case that's something people enjoy. Picture Alex however you want to, there are no wrong answers.

[rival-the-rose]

So, last week, just before my birthday, I developed dysphagia, gastroparesis, and ileus due to a weird viral infection (came with a fever and sinus inflammation but nothing else). In layman's terms, this basically means all of the muscles in my entire GI tract have stopped working - esophagus is not moving food to the stomach, stomach is not opening to allow food nor is it opening to release food, and my intestines are not moving things along, just being inflamed and full of gas.

This is obviously deeply uncomfortable, I have been on a liquid diet and barely reaching BMR, on top of being dehydrated bc plain water causes a lot of pain (adding a neutral-basic substance to high acid environment=bad).

On top of that, I am not a layman, and therefore I know that generally this suite of symptoms are associated with the Big Bad Diagnoses and once they show up they are frequently lifelong and not infrequently fatal. I also know that my history and symptoms don't match any of the Big Bads and it's more likely a weirdly dramatic response to viral inflammation, and I think we confirmed that with my doctor today. She's an osteopath who used to specialize in post-GI surgical care and felt that my intestines responded to manipulation in a way that was more similar to inflamed intestines than intestines that are no longer enervated. I would tend to agree and also she relieved so much pain today, I can take deep breaths again.

However, she hasn't seen or heard of this before. She expects that if there's no active damage being done, the inflammation should be mostly resolved in a week or two, but that's based on physiological knowledge rather than specific disease etiology.

So I'm having a lot of emotions. Anxiety, bc these are serious issues that I don't have a solid timeline on resolving. Anxiety 2, bc any time my body does something weird I become paralyzed with fear that this is going to spiral into profound disability again. Shame about Anxiety 2 bc I feel like I'm being dramatic and also being paralyzed with fear makes me feel bad about myself. Concerned that this is going to trigger an eating disorder relapse. Excited that I get to relapse "legitimately" and the fact that I've been on half rations for awhile is relieving the thoughts around how much weight I've gained since getting back from Vermont. Concerned bc I'm already feeling some of the emotional effects of calorie restriction (weepy+fussy) and physical (so tired.) Shame bc I feel like I should be done being sick and I'm tired of cancelling things I really want to do and also bc I look fine and I do feel ok as long as I haven't eaten recently. So I feel like I'm letting ppl down for no reason/I should be toughing it out more. ???Bad bc this is the eating disorder dream and why can't I be functional while doing it (aka being confronted with the reality that I can't indulge my disorder in a safe way which is so scary). Fussy bc I don't actually feel sick so I still want to do things but then I do and I'm uncomfortable/tired/frustrated immediately. Shame about just lying on the couch so much. Fear bc I want to start T and I'm in the process of applying to vet school and I can't do either of those things if I keep having organ systems shutting down (I really thought my lungs were doing better but they're apparently still not deflating appropriately).

Logically I can see that if someone told me they had these symptoms I would be like "why are you not in a hospital" (as long as I can keep up on calories and liquid reasonably it's not necessary). But I'm the one experiencing it and it's not that bad so why can't I do more stuff. Even though I worked full time this week and went to a doctor appointment today and OT yesterday. But I cancelled hanging out with my bestie on her birthday today so I feel really bad about that.

Idk. I just want to feel better. Except for the part of me that wants to starve to death. I'd say that's the core of the issue lol.

[m-a-n-g-o-m-i]

cw// suicide/ self harm mentions

Just wanted to announce for my like 8 followers that I will be taking a possibly permanent break from this site. Really I just can’t handle it and I know it’s mostly my fault but I also want people to be aware of the effects that ur discourse has on people. I saw a post about how transandrophobia truthers should kill themselves to rid the world of their disgusting presence yesterday and well, I wanted to take that advice but I chickened out and now I just have bruises. I’m sorry. I don’t want this to come off as a guilt trip, and I know some people reading this might think I’m making a big deal out of nothing, and this is nothing compared to the harassment transfems face. Maybe that’s true, and I know it’s a little ridiculous to self harm so dramatically over things people say online, but you know, i really believed them. I wanted to do the right thing, and I mean it.

I guess I just latched onto the word transandrophobia because I thought it described the way I could be assaulted for being a woman in other people’s eyes, and then be told to shut up about it, because I’m a man, after all. I thought it worked well to explain how I could be targeted by the sort of fetishization people put on Asian women, while simultaneously being seen as predatory for being masculine. And while I’m fine to stop using the word “transandrophobia”, I will never stop believing that my experiences exist at some legitimate intersection. I don’t know what it is yet exactly. I’m sorry that I don’t have a better grasp on all this. But because I can’t stop believing in the things I’ve experienced, i guess I’ll always be some sort of “truther,” to some people. And I know it’s wrong to be this— don’t think I don’t feel any shame over it! But I’ve tried to drive out those thoughts before, and they just crept back and back, whenever my back was turned. I cannot get rid of them. I’m not very connected to the big accounts posting about this stuff, so I think I also just don’t really comprehend the situation with harassment and everything that lead people to tell others to kill themselves. However, I do think that if you tell people to end their lives, you should be prepared for some of them to do it, legitimately. Maybe that was the intention all along, and this post doesn’t mean a lot, then. But I prefer to believe that people don’t actually want a lot of their fellow trans people dead.

I’m sorry, genuinely. I saw a different post last week that said we should drive transandrodorks out of every irl queer space until they realize they’re all alone, forever. Well, the people I know irl haven’t driven me out yet, and maybe it’s shitty of me, but I’m going to keep hanging around them until they stop wanting to be around me anymore. They love me so far and selfishly I hope it continues like that. Im sorry, genuinely, but I don’t want to leave. They make me feel like it’s a beautiful thing that I exist. I hope I get to live like that for a long time. They’re also telling me to get off this website so I might not see responses to this post.

You can reblog this if you want, even though it’s very personal. I hope people realize I’m being real with this. I don’t fully understand this discourse and this post will probably reflect that— I’m really not trying to play into a particular narrative. I’m very autistic and take things people say very seriously by default. I just want people to understand how it feels. Thank you for reading this all.

[kylieneko]

Mod Malware Situation Update

Edit 2023-06-09: The researchers have updated their guidance to all-clear on unmodded versions of Minecraft Java, and work continues with both CurseForge and Modrinth to improve safeguards against new variants or copycat attacks. They are still advising staying away from mods a bit longer while this work continues.

As an additional note, I want to clarify something I don't think was clear in my original post: this was not a failure on CurseForge. What went down here has happened to other platforms. It's just the first time such a malicious package attack has been observed in the Minecraft modding scene. It may not be the last.

Original Post Follows:

As you may have seen yesterday, the modded Minecraft community is experiencing a malware incident.

The quick "do I need to worry" is if and only if all the following are true:

you are using Minecraft Java Edition

. . . and are using any mods or modpacks

. . . and those mods were downloaded/updated in the last 2-3 weeks or possibly as far back as March (timeline still unclear as of my post)

If any of the above were not true for you, then you should be clear. Investigators are advising maximum caution even of vanilla Minecraft, more on that at the end of this post.

If all of the above were true, don't panic. You just need to take a few extra steps to be sure.

A document for non-technical users explaining the situation in more detail and steps to take has been developed on github.

If you used any of the scripts from yesterday to verify your stuff, you may still want to try the new tools which will peak inside the mod files for that extra sure feeling.

The document provides links for checking yourself out, and what to do if the worst case happens.

CurseForge has an update on their twitter:

Modrinth is also in the process of verifying their site as well:

Okay, so, why is the document recommending not even running even vanilla Minecraft Java

There are a lot of brilliant people working on this incident, and they're all smart enough to not give an all-clear until all the facts are known.

Everyone wants fast results. Accuracy takes time.

The way this malware worked was to infect all Java jar files it finds on the system.

Including Minecraft itself.

Including things that have nothing to do with Minecraft.

This spreading to infect other jar files appears to be how it spread to infect legitimate mod files:

The malicious mods have upload dates multiple weeks in the past. Most of them were uploaded by single-use accounts with clearly autogenerated names, and were likely the seed of the infection. Luna Pixel Studios was compromised due to a dev testing one of these mods, as it was an interesting new upload.

At the end of the day, it's all about risk. They can't give a clean bill of health just yet, so they won't. If it turns out that something bigger and nastier was happening, they'd be on the line for that.

This is also why every list of mods published by the investigators comes with the "not comprehensive" disclaimer -- it's what we know. What we don't know can still hurt us.

So, running vanilla launcher for vanilla Minecraft Java is considered a risk. It may be low-risk.

Is it a risk I'm willing to take? Maybe next week, when I know more. (I often wait a week after an update, which coincidentally happened yesterday, so this just happens to align with how I do things normally)

If it's a risk you take, just be safe, stay vigilant, and keep an eye on the main repository of information for more news because I am not a reliable reporter.

[sqebu]

When I make a mistake it feels legitimately like life or death. I get so melodramatic. Yesterday I was really feeling like this is my last week of living.

[inseparabiles]

So it's been. However long now since we dropped sertraline? Today four weeks exactly since the last 25mg?

And things have been, uhhhhhhhhh, interesting since - without a doubt got hit with SSRI withdrawal syndrome, and it's been a bitch, but significantly less than online promises us it could be and could have been, like, life is fine and this is all so balanced by the fact that we are experiencing such clear, vivid, in-depth emotion as we've NEVER felt before. Legitimately, this has changed things that have been true for us since we've been here: never crying at music if the feeling wasn't already there, never laughing out loud at jokes or funny things if not in company, and everything feels so beautifully raw and on the skin. Part of this, of course, is just the chemical balancing act happening in here. But part of it is genuinely for the first time in our lives not being depressed, and this feels... like the most beautiful thing ever. Nothing damping the full extent of our human spectrum anymore. Truly being and feeling alive.

Okay. So there's that. But the fucking withdrawal syndrome. First half of the week, that was mostly the expected, heightened anxiety and recurring panic attacks. Then it got so fucking weird: we've been having tremors like no tomorrow for weeks now, every time we're even remotely in a cool environment or tired, they hit like we've been dipped into a frozen lake and thrown out on the ice. These are worse for some parts than others, as hilariously exhibited by two parts having a conversation out loud with one having little difficulty producing words while the other could barely get a word out from shaking. Back to back.

So that's been fun. Another thing is that we haven't been eating for like two weeks now. This household runs almost exclusively on Greek salads once a day now. Is it the new splits? Is it the withdrawals? Who the fuck knows.

This whole whatever the FUCK happened with Gladiator? Like talk to me about reality, I do NOT know her. Hit the most massive combination of a withdrawal-induced manic episode together with a blossoming special interest and that shit made us ride a high that I don't think I'd be able to replicate if I snorted coke and ecstacy combined. The brain has not been here for some time. Things have been going so hard you have no idea.

It's calming down now, we can actually... think, at least some of the time. Instead of having this incessant buzzing sound and a total and complete loss of any semblance of grounding and/or control of our actions and what the fuck we're saying. For a solid week we could not shut up for the love of life or gods combined. Nothing but a bullet would have shut this shop up

And for the past few days it's been mostly just the tremors and the lack of an appetite and the panics. Today and yesterday, no panics, all good. Slept a decent nine hours last night and feel like a human person today.

Been playing Overwatch here on the off while thinking about blorbos and the Roman Empire. And just now, clear as day, with sound and all, a thumb-sized white paper origami cockroach/scarab pranced the fuck across my mousepad. It took its damn time too, at least four seconds, which is by far the longest and clearest hallucination this shit brain has ever produced. The buzzing of the beetle wings, the soft clatters of paper folds and weight. I just looked at it like what the FUCK was that and can there be ANY other explanation but a hallucination, but there's genuinely nothing over there that could have moved even a little bit. There's a strip of leftover photo paper there but it's heavy and it hasn't moved for a day, nothing's touching it, it's pinned down by two scissors. There's a napkin stuck inside the standing microphone's platform, but it's similarly just not fucking around at all.

What. Just genuinely what the fuck. I do love me a brain and some chemicals.

Also we might have a third split and we've all collectively agreed that since this one is benign and benevolent, we'll be leaving him be until a further date unless something dramatically changes or requires immediate processing. Entirely possible the front push of the chaos parts and this absolute madness that has accompanied and surrounded their settling in has dislodged another part and this one actually wasn't here before/earlier than when we started sniffing him out a couple days ago at earliest. Like splits can happen that way, too, I guess. Acute destabilisation can breed parts to help stabilisation. It happens. But our splits are usually much slower and brew for weeks and there's signs. This one is weird.

I guess though we also haven't quit a decade on sertraline ever before so there's that.

also I'd like to thank Caracalla personally for allowing us to write totally unhinged fiction that nobody whose brain has not been totally and completely fucked will understand just how literal all of the description we've been sliding into these stories can be. sometimes what a girl needs is, checks smudged writing on wrist, is an unhinged roman emperor with neurosyphilis to express the full spectrum of her reality.

[radlymona]

(Don't post off anon) Your fandom artist reblog reminded me... I admit to being a loser & joining lots of fic exchanges and other fan creation event Discords lately, and I do NOT know how you can brush up against these spaces and not face the glaring reality that kids are picking up trans identities like emo fashion or sparkledog OCs. There are always places to pick your "pronoun role" and they're ALWAYS 50-60+% they/neopronouns. And as for the huge selection of "he"s? Sorry not to stereotype but I highly doubt a cis guy in his 20s is joining hyper fandom events to write slash fanfiction.

(Oh and also they all love to make characters trans and rape fic is progressive praxis. Of course. I feel like reading/writing porn of trans characters is its own fetish, but since they're armed with 'he/they' pronouns, it can masquerade as representation.)

(Ctd):

I completely get what you mean here and I wanted to expand about something related to this widespread gender crisis for teen girls.

While I don't want to oversimplify why there's been such a massive increase in female teens adopting trans identities, I think part of it is that it's essentially a substitute for being a part of subculture. Today's nonbinary xie/xir is yesterday's scene kid, is last week's goth kid.

The way that coming out of trans seems to spread rapidly within friend groups (I personally witnessed a version of the ROTG effect while in high school with former friends), feels like how one person would come out as goth (usually the 'leader' of the group) and then rapidly the rest of the friend group would come out as such so they wouldn't be left out of the group. It goes back to what you were saying about wanting to fit in. This isn't to say that everyone stops being goth after school/uni, but obviously let's be real - most do.

Moreover, the new names trans teenagers adopt often sound like the silly nicknames teens would use with each other in these subcultures like "blood" and "raven". I've lost the post but there was a trans activism insta page with a list of trans teens protesting the ban on puberty blockers in the uk. The list included names like "coven", which again sounds like something a 14 year old would go by in 2007 chat room. The difference is that 14 year olds now believe it's a legitimate name because of the online TRA slop they've been ingesting. It affects interests too, "Gender" was an interest a former friend of mine suddenly had, replacing all her other hobbies like writing and other creative endeavours. And I think this is reinforced by the isolation of the online spaces you've discussed above.

But the difference between becoming trans and becoming goth/scene etc. is that the former involves way more life changes, especially if you've medically transitioned. This of course promotes the sunken cost fallacy, because it's a lot more embarassing to change back to she/her pronouns after forcing your family to call you he/they for four years. A photo with a bad scene hairstyle is something you cringe at in your 20s, and laugh about in your 30s+. It's a lot harder to laugh about the time you thought you were a boy or a special genderless being.

And I have to wonder if this mass gender crisis would be as widespread if teens still had proper irl subcultures, not just online spaces to interact with other strangers who reinforce their delusions rather than naturally growing out of phases. Figuring out your identity and rebelling against social norms as an awkward teenager by adopting a dramatic fashion sense is a perfectly normal thing to go through. A 14 year old girl genuinely believing that she's a boy named Kai who needs to go on puberty blocks and cut off her breasts otherwise she'll kill herself is not.

[intosnarkness]

2, 9, and 16 for the fic ask game! author choice :3

How did you come up with the idea?

Wanna talk about Private Myths? It's not done, but it has a simple genesis: I fucking love shared dreamscapes. In fact, I feel a little guilty because I realized I've written it twice before (Clint/Kate and Peggy/Steve) and people are talking about it being original which.. nah. I'm playing the hits.

I'll post some references in the last chapter, but I am infinitely inspired by Latin American Magical Realism. I wrote a lot of it in Avengers fandom (notably Don't Be Afraid, Be Very Afraid and probably my favorite fic of all time, Yesterday, Upon the Stair) but spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to bring it to the Grishaverse because... they already have magic? How do you bring magic of mundanity to a world where there are people who literally manipulate molecules with their mind? You'll find out how I squared it, but it was a struggle to figure out why this would happen. (And that is where my Magical Realism departs from classic Magical Realism - in the classics, it happens because it happens. I tend to give reasons, because my readership expects it, and complains when I don't, like in I Come Clean.)

If you want a more linear answer, you have to go read Pedro Paramo and text me when you realize what's happening in part two. Warning: You absolutely must read that book twice to get it to make sense.

Did you get stuck at any point? How did you get past that?

On Myths, yes. I got very stuck on part 3 and started it over and cried to @dreamtigress who came into my doc and enabled me like a good friend does. I also have a small block on chapter 5, but I'm currently reading FirstPrince smut about it and watching GDQ so I'm sure that will fix it.

Last night I also made potato salad about it, that was not as effective.

Talk about the fic’s biggest moment & how you came up with it

Chapter 4 is so, so important but the very end was not originally planned. Originally there was supposed to be a sex scene (Inej going down on Kaz) and he was supposed to wake up and we would see some of the journaling he was doing in his recovery effort.

But. Inej suspects by this point that this isn't just a dream and Kaz does not believe her. I realized that she wouldn't do anything sexual with him if he didn't know the truth, because he couldn't give consent in a way that matters. (Consenting to dream sex that isn't real is a different beast than consenting to dream sex that is.)

So Kaz pulling the clover from his hair is deeply important because it allows them to start chapter 5 on the same footing. They'll both know and that gives them the ability to have a more legitimate connection and make informed choices. The only question is how much they're willing to give. Hopefully you'll find out next week.

(fic writer asks)

[lightandwinged]

Update? Update.

Everywhere else people know what's going on, like actually know, I don't really talk about my feelings too much because it's mostly like... why are you going all in on your emotions, Abby, when all of this big stuff is happening to your family and you're just reacting to it over here, cheering your family on and offering a little bit of help, but you're not physically there all the time like your mom is, so you should shut up or go back to giving us daily updates or something.

The sister update goes that because US health insurance is stupid, her insurance yoinked her out of rehab after less than two weeks and said either she could go to a long term rehab facility (they were only going to pay for literal nursing homes that didn't offer rehab, just old people that smell like urine) or she could go home. And since the former would've been a miserable death sentence, she came home and my 67-year-old mother has been taking over all of her care, from the normal hair brushing down to tube feeding and everything in between. She's getting very little in the way of therapy, but she is getting therapy, but it makes me really want next year's Poseidon sacrifice to be some health insurance execs.

Which is to say that I do care. A lot. I don't think I'd be having such big emotions if I didn't care. And the emotions have broken into three categories.

The first is the immediate trauma category, and that's mostly resolving. For the first ~3 weeks after, I was kind of living life in this frosted snowglobe and watching my family go through the motions while I performed a pantomime of being me. I honestly was on the verge of losing it and eventually, the cure wound up being, of all things, a day at the beach. Cliche, I know, but it was like... maybe the cure for everything is salt water or something. It was just peaceful, nobody was around, nobody was demanding things of me or them. I was present for the family I chose instead of having to be on demand for my parents and sister. And it was a reset and it worked. And it broke that snowglobe, so I'm a lot better where that's concerned. Still having days of pantomiming, but they're fewer and farther betweener.

Then there's the related but longer lasting trauma response where the thought of going to my parents' house is apparently triggering me. I was talking about it with my therapist yesterday and suddenly... well, it wasn't a flashback, more of a flash something. Just images of Bad, my parents and my sister all collapsed on the floor, and because it was the end of therapy, I didn't know what to make of it, but BOY DID IT FUCK ME UP THE REST OF THE DAY. I have dealt with triggers before, but this one was intense, probably because the situation was Right The Fuck There.

All of this to say: I am super not okay. I have therapists though, one about day to day shit and one about long term shit, and they're helping.

The long term shit has unearthed Stuff. My sister has always been pretty unwell... she had seizures as a baby, always had something legitimate going on with her health, that kind of thing. One of my first memories is of being in a hospital children's waiting area while she was being treated nearby and falling in love with this toy stove there. It had knobs that you could turn, and when you turned them, the burners went from black to red. I couldn't have been more than three years old, and it was just pure magic to me.

Because it was ~1987, three-year-old me only had whatever supervision the nearest nurse station could provide. My mom had come to the hospital with our next door neighbor driving, and the neighbor was supporting my mom while the doctors worked on my sister, and I don't begrudge her that. I've had a sick kid. When you have a sick kid, that's your focus.

And three-year-old me had the stove.

(my dad was who knows where. Nobody had cellphones back then because it was 1987. Maybe my mom called him at work or maybe somebody like paged him or something. If he had any way of knowing, he was probably driving to try and get to the hospital or get home, but either way, he wasn't there at all, which was a common theme for my childhood: dad either not present or angry)

And that was a theme, you know? Not anyone's fault, but my sister got sick a lot. She went to the hospital a lot. We went to doctors with her a lot. Therapies, diagnosticians, all sorts of things. When we were all homeschooled, we had hours of some days of the week dedicated to her therapies. And it should have been that way because she needed them, but at the same time, it's like. Neglect that isn't done cruelly is still neglect, and when there are needs not being met...

Well, anyway, that was a breakdown or so.

These are conversations with my therapists, my partners, and my closer friends (and this blog), probably never my mom because she doesn't need more guilt. But fuck me, I hate being THIS level of fucked up about this.

[orelsemystery]

Me & Academia & Publishing & Pittsburgh

I’ve just posted the first three chapters of Or Else. I wrote this yesterday in anticipation. 

I’m sitting in Mellon Park, in the shade of a big tree, drafting a blog post for tomorrow. Off to my right, I can see the bell tower of East Liberty Presbyterian and the white dome that I’ve always assumed is an athletic facility that either belongs to the park on the other side of Fifth or to the Ellis School for Girls, I’ve never been sure which. In some summer in the late 2000s or early 2010s, I used to cross this park on my way back from Shadyside to the house in Point Breeze where I was staying with family friends. I would stop and sit on a bench and read that week’s edition of City Paper. Some other summer, I lay on the hill in the sun and read P.N. Furbank’s biography of E.M. Forster. Now I am here, again, in 2024, because I chose to be.

Academia insists that you move wherever the job takes you, and since traditional tenure-track (i.e., stable and well-paying) jobs are so horribly hard to get these days, you feel guilty if you’re not grateful for whatever you get, no matter how bad a fit the location is. Or so my friends say. I didn’t get a tenure-track job after getting my PhD in English. I don’t have any real idea how much that was my own fault: whether it was because I stubbornly chose to do an unconventional project; whether I didn’t try hard enough to legitimize my project in my job documents; whether I hadn’t published enough. Maybe I hadn’t worked hard enough. Maybe I wasn’t that strong of a scholar. Or maybe there were just so few jobs to begin with that the academic job market is in large part simply a crapshoot, and I didn’t win.

It’s possible I just didn’t stick it out long enough. I don’t know. But I suspect that when all is said and done, the underlying reasons I am here and not there can be boiled down to two things: (1) I want to make my own choices about what my work looks like and (2) I want to be happy in my own life.

So after I finished my Ph.D., I moved back to Pittsburgh. I love the city—it’s where I went to college, and I’ve missed it ever since leaving—and there are enough schools here I figured I could at least adjunct somewhere. I’m actually getting to teach literature right now, which I love doing and am very grateful for. But I am on no ladders to academic glory. 

For the last couple years, however, I’ve been clinging to another possible means of professional success: I could publish the novel I wrote as part of my dissertation. Then I’d be impressive in another way. I queried a number of literary agents, at an inadvisably slow pace, shooting off emails when I could stand the accompanying anxiety. It felt clear, though, that what I was going to need to do to get anywhere serious was network, some of which (workshops, conferences) costs money. And I hate networking and I hate paying money for someone to give my work a chance. I am so cognizant of how many people can’t afford that, and how unfair the whole system can be.

And anyway…I didn’t really want to make my work more marketable. Which is inevitable if you’re going to try and market it.

So I made a different choice, again. To put the novel, the project, on a website of my own. I’m lucky and I am privileged to be able to make this choice—I have a job, for now, that pays enough. I have a safety net in my family and friends. I have a cat but not kids; I have rent but not a mortgage. I have an advanced degree. I can afford to not pin any financial hopes on writing.

Yet it’s hard not to feel like a whole litany of well-meaning teachers and colleagues from over the years are going to be disappointed in me for doing it this way. Or just…disinterested. People who would perk up their ears at a commercially published novel will simply pass by one posted online for free—even if they have good politics generally around capitalism and professionalization. There was only one right answer to the head of my undergraduate drama school’s question, “What are you working on?” and it always involved something that would look good on your resume (and the school’s promotional materials).

Oh well! Here I am! Sorry, everyone: I love amateurism. I love art and writing that people do because they want to. I love fanfiction. I love community theatre. I love zines, I love high school marching bands, I love queer craft fairs. I love adults who rediscover Shrinky-Dinks and polymer clay and make potholders for their friends. I love local book clubs and writing communities on Discord. I love Pittsburgh—I think Pittsburgh’s whole vibe is slightly wonky DIY: faded old signs painted on brick buildings, tree roots pushing up through sidewalks, folding chairs saving parking spots, memories of the Beehive and Garfield’s Nightmare and whatever happened to that one ice cream place that became an illegal banking cooperative or something? Or Else is set in Pittsburgh, at a made-up university I’ve shoved next to Pitt and Carnegie Mellon (who says there’s not room in Oakland), and it’s about people who sort of…make their own worlds, for better or worse, who live one foot in the kind of scrappy imaginary I find so possible in this city. And I am glad to be here, in Mellon Park, writing this, watching a dog with the spindliest legs I have ever seen in my life walking past (sorry Juno), preparing to launch my big little project into the world.

Later update: After I finished writing this post, I walked around the garden in Mellon Park. I was appreciating the Pittsburgh hallmarks I’d just been writing about—bumpy bricks, crumbling walls, etc., and then I tripped on an uneven sidewalk and skinned my knee. I will take this as a reminder that choosing one’s own road comes with obstacles of its own. I am sticking some metaphorical antiseptic into my metaphorical knapsack as I venture down the mysterious path through the woods.

<3 Miranda