#you said medium to ooof

[headstrongblake]

❛   downfall .   find  my  muse  collapsed  on  the  ground . / kassy / @thewholecrew​

there’s nothing but darkness. a place where the hits and the fight no longer hurt. just nothingness. then her parents. her brother. images of them together, happy like their family should have been all along. a warm embrace scoops her closer with too much ease, her body limp like a rag doll. as if she’s trapped inside with no control over what’s happening. her name, along with kassy voice all sound muffled. like she’s a thousand meters below water. but then comes nicklas’. his sounding closer and closer until eyelids begin fluttering. 

no, stop. no, please take her back to her brother. back to the place where it all felt better. if she doesn’t say anything, will they leave her to die? it might be better that way, octavia’s always the problem. she’s the train wreck that leaves herself in these vulnerable positions— though having big brother at her side kept her straight. without him, she’s too much like mom. but it wasn’t her drugs, wasn’t her attitude, or her out of control mouth that had people waiting in the blake apartment when she arrived late last night. you tell your brother to kill this deal with the devil deciples or we come back and do this again. that’s the last thing octavia heard before eyelids shut. guess nobody had told them about bell’s jail time. 

“ mmm, kass, ” the name’s squeezed out, octavia’s voice horse. “ kassy? ” eyes slowly start to open, searching despite the blur, and her swollen features for her friend. she shouldn’t be here. shouldn’t have to see her like this. “ kass... ” octavia’s voice sounds more desperate now, the pain beginning to flood back in. 

[hardwiredweird]

Ooof, this is....

A lot

And not everything here is correct.

Primary colours (as in "the colours you can mix all other colours from) are COMPLICATED in paint. Why? Because pigments, even modern synthetic pigments, are never 'cleanly' red, blue, yellow, cyan or magenta. Cyan specifically is a bit of a tricky one and while Pthalo Blue Green Shade will get you something close-ish, it isn't true cyan (there is Pthalo Cyan as a pigment and it's the best we'll get, but still not PERFECT). Magenta is similar, but some Quinacridones (like rose and magenta) do well enough.

Now.

I would still recommend yellow, Quin Rose or Magenta and Pthalo Blue GS or Pthalo cyan over the standard red, yellow blue (something like cad red light, hansa yellow and ultramarine) if you want a super limited palette of three (four if you're painting in a medium that uses white and if you absolutely want a convenience black, fine you can have that, too, but I have a vendetta against using black pigment in painting. That's a different story tho).

Why?

Because that will give you the cleanest, brightest colours as the original post said. And you can, indeed mix all other colours from it. And here's where the former long posts get... Not entirely wrong (because digital is different than traditional media, but the OG post was specifically talking about PIGMENT colours) but kind of irrelevant or too far from practice. Yes, you can't mix orange and green to create yellow, but that isn't how subtractive colour mixing works. That... Isn't how printers do it either.

Mixing secondaries will always create colours towards black because they contain complimentaries that cancel each other out.

You can, however mix red from yellow and magenta. Blue from yellow and cyan. And most importantly, you mix cleaner, brighter oranges, greens and purples.

What I would recommend in practice (and I may not have a fancy art degree beyond my photography degree but I have five years of hyperfocus on art under my belt) is for you to not just learn colour theory (which you should, not just for mixing), but also learn about colour biases and how to identify them, then use a split primary palette of a warm and cool version of each colour: red, yellow and blue.

That might look like Pyrrol Scarlet, Quinacridone Magenta, Lemon Yellow, Hansa Yellow Medium, Ultramarine (or my favourite Indanthrone) blue and Pthalo Blue GS or Pthalo Cyan. This combination of six colours (just make sure they are single pigment colours, professional paints will list a pigment code that follows the convention of the letter P, then a letter for the hue (R for red, B for blue, Y for yellow, G for green etc. For example PB60 for Indanthrone, PR255 lot Pyrrol Scarlet) with the knowledge of colour temperature will give you the ability to mix any colour with intention for your painting. From bright oranges and purples to muted greens and even greys and blacks that actually have life in them.

[akayna]

orchid ⇢ what’s a song you consider to be perfect?

cactus ⇢ something you’re currently learning (about)?

sage ⇢ what ‘medium’ of art (poetry, music, fiction, paintings, statues etc.) is the most touching to you? why do you think that is?

jasmine ⇢ do you have a movie or book you loved but will never watch/read again?

chamomile ⇢ what kind of things do you like receiving as gifts?

papyrus ⇢ if you put your ‘on repeat’ playlist on shuffle, what’s the first song that comes up? what do you like about it / associate it with?

Orchid: ooof I have no idea. That's very situational. Like most things with me are.

Cactus: learning that my back is not flexible enough for the class I'm in. I have serious exercise homework.

Sage: music and fiction I think. Music swells things in me and fiction I just love character development so much.

Jasmine: I mean, there's hp. It wasn't ever a great literary anything but it had its time. Which is long long over and people need to leave it behind.

Chamomile: anything practical, food, or just reminded someone of me. I'll always remember who gave me something and I'll think of them whenever I see or use it.

Papyrus: my iPod is in the car and I don't wanna go back outside, so let's do one of my Spotify playlists ... All the Things She Said - t.A.T.u. I associate it with college and blasting it from my desktop speakers with the little subwoofer in my dorm, singing along loudly with my housemate.

[its-me-im-coraline]

NSFW Alphabet // Damiano David

words // 1468

warnings // clearly smut

pairing // Damiano x Reader

author's note // if you want to be on the tag list let me know. sorry if this feels rushed but i want to escape the heat and the laptop brings too much of it

request // yes, through a reblog i cant find

summary // self explanatory

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

I feel like Damiano is pretty good at taking care of you after but a lot of the time he is the one to require the aftercare. He gets kind of insecure after sex, like I don’t know… He will require some kind of confirmation that he did well, that he did not hurt you, that you loved him. Generally he needs reassurance sometimes.

His hands were now wrapped around you, after everything that went down, all the spanking and the harsh words, he needed to feel you close, to let you know that he didn’t mean all that.

“Are you ok, mi amore?” His voice was soft, tone ever so gentle, his fingers rubbing small circles on your arm.

“Exhausted, but yes, I am perfect.” The little smile you gave him was all the reassurance he needed.

Suddenly he became a little more confident, small ‘I love you’s escaping his lips as he tucked you under his arms.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I feel like Damiano’s favorite part of himself would most likely be his face. Honestly it might sound a little weird for me to say this but I feel like that's it, ok. Like, he can convey all his feelings through his face, he can lure you in so wonderfully with his facial expression and oh well he’d love it if you sat on his face or simply used his face to get off, regardless the position.

Now as for his favorite part of you i feel like it would probably be your thighs. No matter gender, he would find your thighs to be such a turn on, any time and anywhere.

(this will refer to pussy-bearing reader lol so yeah, sorry for that, I can’t think of a gn scenario with thighs)

He was being driven insane all night. He knew it was a bad idea to take you out after that stunt you pulled that morning with the ‘accidental’ not-wearing-underwear-under-his-shirt incident. He had not given you what you wanted then so you were planning on getting it now.

Your thighs were adorned with thigh high stockings, garters and all accompanying them. You knew his weakness and you’d play with it till the end.

For the whole night, Damiano tried to not react. He did not want to seem like he’s possessive or overbearing or whatever else, so he let it be for a while, but after one point it had gotten too much, he could not take it anymore.

“Amore, I think it’s time to leave,” he said, loudly enough for your friends to hear as well.

“Oh, but why Damiano, I want to stay a little longer,” you whined, receiving a little spank on the back of your thigh, thankfully the music could cover it up.

“If you want a chance to ride my face, you’ll come with me, or else you can wait to have an orgasm for another week.” this time his words were quite enough for your ears only, the idea of what he’d do later was not something he wanted your friends to have.

“Yeah, now that you said it, I’m getting a bit tired. Ooof my feet hurt from dancing. Goodnight.”

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He’s pretty big on seeing him cum on you. I think I said something similar for Ethan but Damiano is full on messy cum. He does not care where you are, what you’re wearing, whatever, he will cum on you. On your face, your shirt, your underwear. It does not matter. He’s like the type of guy that goes like “oh you want it, amore? You want my cum? Tell me where you want it,” and then will come where you direct him to.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He kind of wants to see you get fucked by somebody else while he watches… He is kind of scared to express that, not knowing how you’d feel

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I’d say a good medium. He’s experienced, he’s surely not new to this, but i don’t think he has had that many sexual partners. He feels like the guy that needs a connection before he can have sex, at least most of the times. So he is experienced enough.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

I feel like he’d enjoy mostly well you riding his face, your legs up his shoulders as he fucks into you or kind of entangled, your right leg over his right hip and your left between both of his (its called ‘pretzel dip ffs)

he want to be able to feel your thighs all over him

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He some times is goofy when he is close to cumming and he starts the whole “where do you want it”. Some times he would crack jokes.

Generally i feel like he is goofy in bed

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He does not care to much but he could possibly trim it down if its too bothersome when you suck his dick.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He can be very romantic if you want him to but most times he’s kind of goofy as i mentioned. The very intimate moments are very specific. After a romantic date, on an anniversary, your or his birthday and so on and so forth

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He masturbates a lot, cause he thinks about you a lot. Some times he’ll see old photos of you two before he left on tour and he gets turned on by your thighs

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

well as i said he thinks of you being fucked by someone else and him seeing you, so id say a bit of voyeurism and cuckolding. He’s a switch so he’s only dominant when there is no one else to be dominant, so the idea of someone fucking you and shaming him while doing so is kind of a hot idea some times.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He will go anywhere you guys are if he can’t stop it. Seriously quickies at club bathrooms are too common for you two

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

As I already mentioned: thighs. If you are wearing thigh high anything, short tight dresses, short shorts that are tight around your thighs, garters, tight jeans, tight dress pants… Anything with your thighs kills him

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers giving it. Like yeah, he loves it when you give him oral but he seems like the type of man that for example eats pussy for his own pleasure. I can seriously imagine him coming home from working at the studio and he’s stressed as fuck and (after getting your consent of course) he’d lay between your thighs and start giving you oral.

“But Dami I’m reading a book.”

“So? Continue. This is not about you. I’m stressed, it’s about me.” You’d simply just laugh, knowing very well you won't be able to concentrate on your book.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

he is usually quite fast. he doesn’t exactly love the slower pace. the slower pace is for when you guys are extremely intimate, as i talked about before, or if he is teasing you

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He is down to experiment with most things. He is very comfortable with his sexuality so he does not mind most things, except some few ones that he finds a bit disgusting (no offence)

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I feel like he would buy you a toy that he can control from far away and he’d get one for him that you’d control so you kind of mutually jack off each other while he’s on tour or either of you is away for days.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Enough to show you punishment but also enough to receive one at times

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s pretty big. Not too much (overwhelmingly much like Ethan) but big enough to be considered big. Above average

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He gets horny pretty easily ig. With all the adrenaline from shows the moment he sees you he’s ready to jump your bones.

tag list: @bieberhoodforever @tabi-toast @ginny-lily @moriro-da-regina @the-killer-queenie @makapaka11 @teenyweenynightghost

[prettyboongi]

BTS Reaction | They React to Their Child Interrupting the Filming of Run BTS

[A/N: Despite this one taking me awhile to write, it was actually fun to think of these scenarios. A very cute request from @kooksdior I’m sorry I took so long with this >_<]

Seokjin

After his thrilling bungee jump, Seokjin lays on the ground while trying to come off his adrenaline high. He instantly snaps out of it when he sees his 6 year old daughter running towards him. He quickly sits up a bit as she nearly crashes into him. 

“Daddy, you’re a superhero!!,” Y/D/N shouts into your ear, holding onto his neck. 

Seokjin could help but chuckle at his adorable little girl. He hugs her back tightly, “Oh, I’m no superhero. Where’s mommy?” 

He then sees you jogging towards him and Y/D/N. Once you reach up to them, you crouch forward and rest your hands on your knees. “Sorry,” you pant, “I tried stopping her but she was way too fast. So much energy…” 

Getting up from the ground, Seokjin carries his daughter in one arm and wraps the other arm around your shoulder.  “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” he says warmly, “After going through that, I’m just really happy to have the both of you by my side.” 

Yoongi 

Yoongi was bonding with Demi, the cute brown and white, medium sized dog when out of nowhere his toddler son came up to him.

Startled by the sudden appearance, jumps up a little. “Yah! Y/S/N, you scared me. What’re you doing? You should be with mommy.” 

But the boy wasn’t listening. He was too busy hugging and kissing Demi, he was in pure ecstasy. “Good doggie,” Y/S/N mutters. 

Yoongi looks across to see you apologizing to the slightly peeved director. You looked over to him and gave a wary shrug. 

“Daddy, can we keep her?,” Y/S/N pleads with his own set of puppy dog eyes. 

Yoongi softly smiles and ruffles his hair. “Sorry, bud, we can’t. Demi belongs to someone else. Plus we have Holly at home.” 

“But then Holly would have a sister!” 

“Uh, not sure if he'd be a fan of that…” 

Hoseok 

“Daddy I wanna play too,” Y/D/N beams as she runs up to Hoseok. She’s been watching her father and the rest of Bangtan play that board game for the last hour and have been dying to join. With you distracted by something else, that’s when she took her chance and sprint towards her target. 

But the moment Y/D/N tried to pick up the giant, plush die, that’s when you grabbed her arm. 

“Didn’t I tell you to not get in the way of Daddy’s filming, little missy?,” you scolded at the 5 year old before shooting an apologetic look at your husband. 

Y/D/N tries to wiggle out of your reach but with no avail. “Let go! I wanna play with Daddy!,” she cries. The boys laughed sympathetically at Hoseok’s cute daughter but Hoseok felt somewhat heartbroken to be away from his baby girl. 

As you drag her away from the shot, Hoseok calls after her, “Don’t worry, sweetie, Daddy will play all of your favorite games with you once we get home.” Because deep down inside, He would rather play silly board games with his family than with these six losers any day. 

Namjoon 

As Namjoon heads toward the ride, he feels something tug at his shirt. Surprised, he looks down to find his 8 year old son next to him. 

“Can I go on the ride with you Dad?” Y/S/N asked with intense enthusiasm. 

Namjoon then lowers himself to his son’s height and gently lays his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, buddy. As much as I want you to, we’re in the middle of filming.” 

“Oh okay,” Y/S/N says dejectedly, hanging his head down in sadness. 

This breaks Namjoon’s heart a bit but there was nothing much he could do. “Go run back to mom, okay?” His son obediently nods and runs off. 

But fortunately, Namjoon made it up for his son by making him a big bowl of ramen using the ramen cooker at the end of shooting. 

Jimin 

While the boys were enjoying their barbecue dinner, Jimin feels a tap on his shoulder and sees his 11 year old next to him. 

“Y/D/N!,” he greets her excitedly, “Are you hungry? You want some food? Where’s mommy?” But Y/D/N didn’t answer any of his questions and just stared at him quizzically. “Is there something wrong?” 

His daughter then leaned toward him and whispered something in his ear. The guys around him wondered what she had said to Jimin since it made Jimin blushed red and subsequently shooed her away. 

Later on, Jungkook asked Jimin what she whispered to him. 

Jimin shakes his head and sighs deeply. “She asked why does uncle Taehyung like getting his ass slapped so much?” He honestly didn’t know how to answer that question. 

Taehyung

After getting the lyric correct, Taehyung was feeling extremely as he danced back inside the house. You can only imagine how happy he was when his cute daughter ran towards him and gave him a big hug. 

He twirls her around her around a couple of times before asking her, “You wanna help Daddy wake up Uncle Jungkook?” 

She smiles and nods eagerly. 

Jungkook 

Although he was having a fun time playing, Jungkook was trying his best to not get caught by Namjoon. 

As he was cautiously walking, something small and fast tackled his side. 

"Ooof!," he groans when toppling on the ground. He soon realized the culprit was 6 year old Y/S/N, who climbed on top of him. "Hey kiddo…," he smiles at his rambunctious son, "I thought you were with your mom." 

"She went to the bathroom. She told me to stay where I was." 

"But I see that you didn't." His boy smiles at him cheekily. Jungkook sees where the boy gets his rambunctious nature from. 

He gets up and puts his arm around Y/S/N's shoulder. "Come on, let's find mom. Better she yells at you now than later." 

[thecrenellations]

Return of the Thief Notes, Part Three: The Book of Pheris, Volume 2, Chapters 6-14 and “Alyta’s Missing Earring”

Notes from my first read, October 2020. (Part One | Part Two | TaT)

Contents:  Elephants, guesses about gods and dead men, villain team up, the unexpected, AAAAAAH, elaboration on the word cloud above (which is one big Gen, medium Pheris, medium love, and scattered other names), and more quantitative analysis! I love this book.

Format:  Page number. My thoughts (Context?)

Chapter 6

285. unkingly moment, last night with her at home

MISMATCHED STOCKINGS (I have a thing about this.)

Wedges of ribbons?

285. cute

286. a pitneen? A drunk bird?

Wait. Gift of animals??? Did he steal the thunderbolts wearing it?

A canary no longer

287. Hilarion and Ion, wow

Throw a cup of wine on me

288. War pants! War pants!

What’s Attolia wearing?

Sophos! (the whistling!)

288. Ok fine it’s gonna be sad ... I say as if I didn’t just experience the trial (the last lighthearted moment)

Pepper!

Be careful Pheris

Also Relius went to Dite and Juridius, right? (I was convinced Dite would show up)

Sinerine!

290. SOCKS! Yay <3 magus

I was resigned to not much magus but he is HERE!

He’s … so much nicer than he was to the kids in the Thief, lol

A CART!

Lamb, falling in same paragraph. Worried.

Gen :( Gen you ran all over the palace and leapt in the water last night. You are so stupid.

292. Yay Sophos I love you

Math buddies!

294. I’M SAD.

They have had this convo before

I love them

It’s because I can that I think I should

295. Do not overreach. Eddis is right

Danger in self indulgence?

I love her! “I was outside chasing your brother with a stick”

296. My heart. You have to trust yourself. I don’t know if I can. Then you have to trust us.

Tactical Irene!

Thanks I’m gonna hold on to it: “The Call of life is a s powerful as the call of death, and it is no weakness to answer to it”

297. Oh no. My children. Tell each other things like that!

Great time to be childish, Gen.

Yeah honestly. It’s bothered her FOREVER

299. Pull it together, kids!

Thx Helen

Inkpots … :( :( :(

Chapter 7

302. See … that Continent occupation isn’t good either!

303. Unfortunately that is NOT an alternative. Bc volcano.

305. This is stressful.

Chloe, interesting

306. Elephants

Oh my god it’s better than I ever could have imagined (there was like 10 years of lead up to the elephants, and I thoroughly enjoyed them)

I love him

Gen wtf

Yes drink up those guards (“We could keep [an elephant] in the guard’s bathhouse! There’s plenty of room.” “And the guards will bathe ...?” “In the palace reservoir.” “Our drinking water.”)

#6 Gen about elephants

308. This is gonna be a disaster

Hilarion with an eyeglass

Fuck Pheris is making this up.

Gen I love you

Oh my god

Honestly idk if Gen is having fun but I AM

They’re. They’re such a power couple.

Also Bu-seneth is so rude to Attolia

309. so vague about battle, but I’m sure it’s horrible

310. hero talk. Chills.

311. all the woman comparisons for Gen (“Would [a world with no war and no heroes be a bad thing?” “That’s a woman’s question”)

Wow. Interesting. Anonymity

312. Don’t listen to them Gen!

Bad tempered cooks

313. lol. Good looks.

Gen. the hand joke. Why

Well that was … a scene (I don’t know my Henry V)

Reassuring to have a glove. Which one?

314. No. Bad. This is what I was afraid of. (Nahuseresh baiting Gen with Kamet)

Ok Pheris

315. That cannot be true. (it was not!)

Gen. No. No.

316. Wow. That worked out well. So far.

They called him annux. If Kamet is really dead…

319. Yeah Attolia is RIGHT

Yeah I can’t actually either!

Irene knows. In his story!

320. Glove resolved very fast

Interesting reversal (Gen and his dad)

Maddening!

Chapter 8

322. who’s charging off in a haze of glory now

Philologos wounded

Wait, the attendants follow him in to battle...

Cleon RIP

Temenus <3

No. Stenides

If they ever returned.

His brother died in an explosion

Gen’s tears

This is sad.

323. lion lamb :(

325. At least they have each other

Morality is an illusion. Like safety?

326. that’s what Costis was mapping, right? (nope)

How many has Gen killed now

328. Who. Pol? Ambiades? (The cairn man question remains)

Oh no

Oh no. you can fall from a horse

HILARION!

Is Fordad a spy?

I am just not accepting this yet

WAIT THE MEDES TOOK HIM! (I thought the Attolians had taken Gen, or Gen’s body, at first.)

330. wow things only Pheris can do

GDI Erondites

WOW THIS IS A VILLAIN TEAM UP

332. You gave it to him dude (Nahuseresh asking “Why does he still have this?” about Gen’s hook)

I love Gen. I wonder if he’s afraid.

This is bad.

Whose treason, whose betrayal?

333. Yeah! Kamet said so (“Tell me again that you are king.” “Annux, if you prefer.”)

334. Oh god.

Get your stories straight bastards

Rolled in a rug!

336. Oh gen

Oh god

Yeah this is …

Be careful what you ask for

338. What did he sign as, though, Attolis? Eugenides?

Nomenus wtf

What does mwt have against facial hair (Fordad, Nahuseresh)

Costis please come (idk how I thought he was going to help, but I was in Costis Denial and expected him to show up at any moment)

Everyone must be going through a lot

A face like an open grave

Gen.

Gen I love you

YES

YES

Is he … invulnerable now?

Gen what.

Is he possessed? Is he already a god?

341. Yeah same. (“I think he meant that I should not fear him, either. I did, though ... I still followed him”)

This isn’t being self indulgent or overreaching, is it?

342. RIP Ion Nomenus

“My work”

Oh Nomenus

Does he just exist for the morally gray and loyal angst feelings? It works (...)

344. What did he DO

Yes! Swearing Gen!

345. love all caps Gen

Those names

Aaah

346. Ooof.

Chapter 9

347. moon promises

Yeah

Noooo Philologos :(

Legarus … :(

349. Gen what what

Sparks

Costis? Stenides? STENIDES?

Wow ok he killed Bu-seneth

350. god

See I said Nahuseresh shouldn’t have said that

Also is Gen a bastard

351. WHAT (“Because your council had just voted to kill him”)

Oh Helen

Oh Irene

Does he invite him in?

This is reassuring to the reader (“He can bear his god a little while without losing himself”)

Aaaaah Galen

354. Gen that’s a lot. A lot.

Don’t kill everyone.

So so so x7 of doom

Bye Yorn

I hope he wins too

Go away Nahuseresh

Omg

another fall

Interregnum

Ok it was Lader (when you don’t know who the man at the cairn was, keep on guessing!)

Yeah the circumstances thing is back

Oh god

Oh no

Chapter 10

361. how long has it been?

362. three days

I love them (Elephants! My excellent queen!)

You promised to trust him

364. Oh no. Oh no. (Relius)

370. These Helen convos…

371. Sad. :(

372. Emtis and Lader

Yeah.

Omg

374. Wow

Steal by elephant?

377. Don’t forget about Dite!

378. He’s gonna kill him?

379. Is Dite dead too?

Oh Sejanus

Oh I see

He’s got a mercy taste too

380. Switching!

Lying in moonlight. Hm.

381. Yesss

Nooooo

383. I’m nervous

Gods blessing on your road

Wow. <3

They would have fallen… (if Pheris had gone through with his plan, that’s how they both would have died)

Did not expect Sejanus feelings in Rott.

Chapter 11

386. He’s gonna know. But the trust.

Ion knows.

390. Gen…

Pheris is Lyopidus?

I’m scared

393. I kind of love Ion

More Sejanus, bring it on

I’m nervous

Hmmm… who could it be

395. MoW :( <3 I will not be ok if he dies too

Gen knows the way bc Costis (nope)

Oh my god these two (“I lied” “I know”)

Chapter 12

398. Oh no.

This is not

Her Thief

Irene. “only sleeping” this is what Eddis said to her

But mist… water???

Face touch

402. not living or dead. King

Yes. But no.

403. crying at everything and the MoW next to him

There he went

It was the Eddisians. He fought with them.

404. yeah that’s a lot to deal with, Pheris

405. what a mystery man (Sejanus)

Lol mysterious exit averted

Excuse me that was a difference

406. :(

Am I king

407. Helen is once again right. She’s also always right

MOIRA was Melisande???!??!? (who even knows)

409. ?? Irene?

Same as for Dite. Man loves his brothers. (nephews. you know what I mean.)

Nice.

AAH yup. Add it to the list (“How neatly you tie them together” ... the list of is ways Gen and Irene are becoming more like each other)

410. speaking of which where is Costis!

Hm… what god was that

I love their reactions

411. SPLENDID.

Oh Irene. It’s true <3

It’s so true (“When the king gives his heart he gives it completely”)

Now I’m crying again, at them

412. Gen, she has a point.

Amazing. I … I don’t think she meant to ask like THAT

Jesus, Gen.

You do not know a wagon from a wheelbarrow

413. Irene!

She’d better get home safe.

Gen!

Omg

414. I have another bad feeling, about Gen

415. High king or queen though?

Magus <3

Chapter 13

416. “of course”

That’s ominous

417. No! Sejanus!

A gut wound yikes

418. sadness

419. lol “ill will”

We’re in Roa. My heart’s pounding.

422. I love Gen.

YESSS

Yes I love them.

Sheep.

Kamet!!!

?!?

Costis. Mattresses exist.

424. Oh no.

426. roof dream

Good roof dream

Good job Helen

428. TWINS. Everyone was RIGHT

Reyatimi

Oh shit. The sky.

Oh dear. :( aaah

430. Climbing the rigging!

“it’s just that you have so many least favorite things”

431. I love them (Gen and Irene)

432. I love them (Gen and Helen)

433. RIGHT! I was thinking

I can’t <3 (they’re naming the baby after the MoW, and it’s perfect, and she’s not gonna tell us, huh)

OH MY GOD!!! (baby thief!)

WOW!

434. AAAAAAH (Hector! @threetoadswaltz​ finished reading before me and knew that I would explode about this and I DID, I threw my arms in the air! HECTOR!)

PERFECTION!

435. AAAAAAAAH (this was when it became clear they were going to dance on the roof)

Yes she was (as surefooted as the king)

Is this the first time she’s Irene

Yes.

I’m filled with happiness

Celia and Lavia again … lol.

Lol Chloe

THALIA

CRENELATED wall

HE’S ALIVE

Kamet is a sweetheart

The gods!!!

The gods!

Aracthus

Mystery goddess?

Ula?

Moira! Yes!

(I was very happy. The page itself:)

Alyta’s Missing Earring

Wait. Was it Alyta.

Glad we got a bi god (with all due respect to Immakuk and Ennikar, whose bi-ness and godliness is perhaps more up to the reader)

Got very bi very fast

Also. He’s Gen.

Interesting difference in story

Kathodicia!

Are we literally getting ALL the answers? (No. But so many more than I expected!)

Gen’s grandfather sucks

An urn huh

Omg. Heiro’s earrings?

Oh my gosh.

Same, Gen. Same.

Obvs Phresine knows.

Is Phresine a goddess?

Same, Gen. Same.

She got to tell a story! She is so happy!

I think he’s a little scared

Moleskin

Yeah peace huh

This series is socially sanctioned silliness

1000 Eugenides. Wow.

They did melt though

Little thief.

<3 <3 <3

He’s a character in a story

A big question

Tamarisk? Takima? (We are not getting all the answers.)

That’s it! Thank you for reading - it feels very self-indulgent to type up all of these, but I will honestly take most chances to relive the intense and wonderful experience of reading this book for the first time, which often means looking back at my own notes and sometimes means sharing them with people. Also, I really love reading liveblogs/real-time book thoughts, so here is one from awhile ago ... all at once.

Anyway, check out this word cloud from all of the notes (made with this site):

It’s ... mostly just character names, with a variety of words that express my enthusiasm and feeling (love, lol, wow, yes, excuse me...). Gen is the biggest because I said his name 115 times! Here are some totals for the other characters who came up a lot:

115 - Gen (and 10 Eugenides)

42 - Pheris

26 - Costis

18 - Irene (and 6 Attolia)

16 - Helen (and 8 Eddis)

10 - Sophos (and 4 Sounis)

12 - the magus

11- Kamet

11 - Teleus

10 - Relius

9 - Ion

6 - MoW

6 - Moira

5 - Sejanus

These don’t fully represent how much I had to say about them, because I didn’t always refer to people by name or title ... which kind of explains why Costis’s total is ridiculously high compared to how much he is in the book -  I likely have more notes about other characters, but I didn’t need to bring up their names because they were already present in the scenes I was taking notes on (for example, I think I talked about Relius more than Teleus, the magus, or Kamet, but many of those just referred to him as he, because it was obvious to me who I meant). But also I was just looking for Costis! Anyway. My use of names and titles for the monarchs also really illustrates how much this book reshaped the way I think of these characters’ relationship to them, Gen’s and Irene’s especially.

It’s representative of my feelings about this series that I wrote “I love them” about so many combinations of characters. Who, exactly? And how many times? Well...

5 - Gen and Irene

4 - Gen and Helen

2 - Gen and Pheris

1 - Gen, Irene, Helen, and Sophos

1 - Helen and Sophos

1 - Costis and Kamet

1 - unknown combo of Gen, Pheris, and Relius on p.166, I love them all and can’t remember. Kamet’s map was there, too, and I do love Kamet, so maybe he was in there too.

no matter what the numbers say, I love them all endlessly, and I love this book.

be blessed in your endeavors, yes I will take any questions about these notebook screams, etc.

[discotreque]

Disco 3.08: The Sanctuary

This week IRL was a real mixed bag for me: a lot of messy and barely-manageable anxiety about my health, my day job, and uhhhh *gestures outside*—but also I’ve recently fallen in love (from a responsible social distance)—so it’s been equal parts re-writing professional emails to edit the panic attack out of my tone and gazing dreamily at Discord notifications with cartoon hearts in my eyes. It feels like my life is going to hell in the cutest, coziest handbasket—which is to say that Michael Burnham could not possibly feel like a more relatable character to me right now.

I continue to have issues with the writing at a strange medium-level—somewhere between micro, where the dialogue and characters are really good, and macro, where I’m digging the pace of the overall season, it almost feels like something went wrong in the assembly process, and the script ended up a little bit less than the sum of its perfectly good parts. Again.

But that’s such vague criticism as to be nearly meaningless, and it’s hardly the most interesting level to spend time on anyway. If I zoom out, the parallel season arcs of “getting used to the future” and “the mystery of the Burn” are hanging together wayyyyy better than the Red Angel saga did last year.

And if I zoom in? This episode was funny as shit, wtf.

The discourse re: Tilly these past couple of weeks has been bullshit, and I have a whole angry thing to say about it—but honestly, if you can’t appreciate Doug Jones and Mary Wiseman as a comedic duo, I’m not really mad: mostly I pity the lack of joy in your heart.

Everyone on this show is so funny. Doug’s prissy little delivery absolutely slaughters me (“Execute!...?”), Mary will make a face sometimes that has me screaming laughter into my hands, and I’ve gone on before—and will again—about Sonequa Martin-Green’s egregiously underrated comedy chops.

They were obviously casting for folks w/ jokes in the new season too: David Ajada is no slouch in the dry-delivery or the goofy-face department; his energy and chemistry with Sonequa are as suited to comedy as they are to romance (i.e. extremely 🥵). Anthony Rapp and Wilson Cruz we knew about, but Blu del Barrio—a certified tiny baby!!!—holds their own and lands every smartass whiz-kid one-liner just on the right side of “too precious to stand.” (I almost always at least chuckle, and never roll my eyes, and for a “teen genius” character that’s literally as good as it gets.) And living legend Michelle Yeoh is clearly having the time of her life, omfg.

Disco’s not funny-funny like Lower Decks, but they do funny-on-purpose better than any live-action Trek except maybe DS9. They have such a deep comedic bench they don’t even need Tig Notaro—they have her on just to flex, I presume.

(I don’t know if I’m predicting, per se, that Strange New Worlds—with Rebecca Romjin’s deadpan, Anson Mount’s twinkly eyes, and Ethan Peck’s twinkly-eyed deadpan—is going to have a tone somewhere between Disco S3 and LwD—but I mean... it kinda has to, right? And you know they kept the number for Rainn Wilson’s agent.)

***

At the start of this episode, I was “sure, why the fuck not” about First Officer Tilly; by the end, I was completely on board. And to everyone who’s still wringing their hands about “the real military” this (always from people who have no idea how actual militaries work, lol) and “Lt. Nilsson” that (she... already has a job on the ship? And no character traits besides “stoic” and “furrows brow”? Oh, I get it—she’s skinny and blonde)—y’all are kind of embarrassing me.

“Rank” and “position” (and “seniority” and “day-to-day duties”...) aren’t the same thing, in Star Trek or any IRL military. Yes, the permanent first officers of normal-duty Starfleet ships we’ve seen have usually been command-division officers with the rank of Commander—but not always. Star Trek: Discovery-A, if you will, is a unique show about a unique ship in a unique situation: “B-b-but that’s not how they do it on Star Trek!!!” isn’t a legitimate criticism, not of this—it’s the mournful cry of an entitled pissbaby who isn’t having their hand held all the way to the fireworks factory.

Here’s what an argument supported by the text of the first 37 episodes of Star Trek: Discovery actually looks like: Sylvia Tilly is nervous and lacks self-confidence, but once she gets over herself—which she can do pretty much instantly in a crisis, even when hilariously intoxicated—she is competent as hell. In lower-stakes situations, without intense pressure to focus her attention, she sometimes gets sidetracked by her own insecurities; at her best, she channels that anxious energy into ambition, drive, and being scrupulously organized.

The only person Tilly doesn’t always get along with is Stamets, and even Stamets’s husband thinks he’s an asshole. Since Season 1, we’ve seen her easily socializing with the rest of the crew, who seem to universally adore her. And she’s also happy to leave her social comfort zone at a moment’s notice: she aligned herself with Ash Tyler (miss you, Shazad!) when no one else would, and she instantly befriended Po even when Po was in Weird Feral Alien Princess mode and Tilly had salad in her hair. She doesn’t like confrontation, but she’s brave enough to initiate it anyway if she needs to, and she’s compassionate with other people’s feelings while still setting firm boundaries. (Her graceful dodge of Rhys’s tipsy kiss at the party in 1.07 lives rent-free in my head to this day.)

No, Tilly didn’t finish the Command Training Program—but she started it, which is almost certainly more command training than any of the lieutenants whose names we know, all of whom are Ops or Science personnel with, presumably, specialized non-command training of their own. The same could be assumed for any unseen ranking officers on this science ship with an entirely volunteer skeleton crew.

And seriously, about Nilsson: she’s my #3 background bae after Octopus Head and the lady on Pike’s Enterprise with the spiky red face, but her job is Spore Drive Ops, not personnel. If she’s running after Saru with a holo-clipboard, who’s going to look serious and push holo-buttons when there’s a Black Alert? *drops holo-mic* Drumhead!

***

The stuff on Kwejian, though. Ooof. Ol’ Two-Takes Frakes directed this one, and between the kinetic energy he always adds to the camera and the scintillating performances he evokes, things stayed moving so briskly I almost didn’t notice Book’s entire “homeworld” was a rental house outside Vancouver, a couple acres of adjacent woods, and like six or seven people.

It’s a hot mess in retrospect, but in the moment it gave us the intensity of Book and Kyheem trying to hurt each other’s feelings by poking at 15-year-old wounds, which as a sibling with complicated sibling relationships I found both funny and devastating—not to mention Frakes directing “shaky bridge” explosion falls at an obvious intensity of “10” on an outdoor location shoot. It falls apart at the slightest scrutiny, but I can’t lie, on first viewing I was totally along for the ride.

***

I’m dying to see where this Georgiou thing goes. It doesn’t feel like a stretch to assume she got Cronenberg’d a couple weeks ago, probably to get her under the thumb of this century’s Section 31, and that her arc is going to take Michelle Yeoh off this show in a way that sets up the S31 show. But also, I don’t care so much whether I’m right, I just want to watch Michelle Yeoh—and Sonequa Martin-Green, and also David Cronenberg tbh, and bring back Shazad Latif while you’re at it—get wherever they’re going.

It’s also a fun and interesting direction to take the comically-evil comic relief character and show that her performative moustache-twirling is partly habit and partly a transparent emotional defence against very real fear and vulnerability. We’re all products of our circumstances, and a radical enough change in circumstances can afford almost anyone at least the opportunity to change. I can’t say Emperor Georgiou would have been my first choice of protagonist for that storyline, but it’s not like Michelle Yeoh’s not going to fuckin’ crush it.

***

Miscellany:

So the Burn had an origin point, and now that point is broadcasting a signal that’s somehow both a haunting melody that everyone seems to know—but no one can remember learning—and a Federation distress signal. What the fuck, y’all. I have full-body goosebumps just typing that.

Saru workshopping his own captainly catchphrase with the aid of Tilly’s extreme sincerity and organizational skills is probably the funniest thing that’s ever happened on this show—followed closely by the uncomfortably lingering reaction shots when he’s trying them out on the bridge 😂 (And omg please give Rhys and Bryce the dumbass buddy-comedy C-plots they deserve next season, I beg you.)

I would do a little “prop watch” entry on those Kwejianian(?) bolt-throwing rifles, but I’d have to stop drooling over them first. “Curvy polished hardwood” seems to be New Trek shorthand for “extra sleek and futuristic” (cf. the bridge of the USS Titan in the LwD finale), and I have to say: I am fully into it.

Restating my prediction that we will not see Detmer and Owosekun get together this season, because we will find out that they’ve been together for ages. Everyone knew—Pike even knew!—it just never came up in front of the audience before. That would be one of the cutest ways to do it imho, and one of the funniest too, especially as a meta-joke about how much character development didn’t happen in the first two seasons. (That said, if we get to see their first kiss, I will be screaming with incoherent joy for days, so this is a real win-win for me.)

Speaking of cute: IRL spouses Mary Wiseman and Noah Averbach-Katz, both Julliard-trained actors (it’s where they met!), can’t quite hide their chemistry in the scenes between Tilly and Ryn. I loved seeing Tilly be a hardass when Ryn was rude to the captain, but that sparkle in her eyes didn’t quite match the context <3

And speaking of people who are VERY OBVIOUSLY IN LOVE: that last scene with Book and Michael, and his nervous little “yeah, I said it” eyebrow lift, and her irrepressible giggle as she’s walking away... it was almost too much. Especially right after the queer-family scenes with Stamets and Culber and Adira. My poor heart is going through a lot lately, and I guess I’m just glad Season 3’s emotional intensity is melting it with soft sweet scenes like that instead of kicking it down repeated flights of stairs like Season 1.

***

Next week: everyone stops caring about the Burn and starts trying to solve an even more important mystery—why is this (holographic) dude wearing an early-2360s uniform with an early-2370s combadge?

[dietraumerei]

Whumptober 2020: 28. Accidents (again!)

How the girls from Day 26 met. (And in which we find out that Aziraphale was the true whumpee in that story. Not because she’s blind, but because she’s tied herself to this dorkface for life.)

If you get to the end of this and wonder if, perhaps, it’s the first chapter of a very long story in which I attempt something like a...medium burn? You are absolutely right.

Read the rest of my Whumptober stories on AO3 here.

cw: broken bones, mention of surgery

“Look out below!” Crowley screamed, and whooped loudly, kicking off the skateboard and rattling across the plaza. She wasn't great at skateboarding, but Hastur and Ligur were pretty okay to hang out with. Not, maybe, the most sparkling companions, but pretty okay all the same. Decent for fucking around a deserted plaza and practicing tricks. (Well, the two of them could do tricks pretty well. Crowley mostly just tried to stay on the skateboard.)

They ragged on her as she successfully didn't wipe out on flat ground, so Crowley decided it was time for a little creativity, and also to show the two of them a thing or two. She set up at the top of a sloping bit – wheelchair access she guessed, although whoever designed it didn't know what they were doing, the slope was too steep. And kicked off, rattling over the bricks, holding her line, and then – yes! Up onto the railing and grinding her way down the next set of stairs.

“Fuck yeah, I got this!” she yelled, when someone came out of nowhere, like definitely nowhere, okay maybe there was a big cluster of bushes there but suddenly there was a woman, tall and pale-haired and Crowley yelled because was she blind, Crowley was right there!

She tried to aim out of the way getting off the railing, but it all was going really very fast, so instead of landing and coolly gliding on her way, Crowley landed, felt her leg snap, and skidded in a miserable heap while the skateboard rattled on.

“Ooooh. Oh, fuck.” She groaned and sat up and oh yeah, her ankle was broken broken. “Ow,” she moaned, and lay back down. Well, this was annoying.

“That doesn't sound so good,” the woman said.

“It really isn't,” Crowley said, lying back down. It didn't hurt less, but it seemed the right thing to do. “Hastur! Ligur!” she called.

The woman cocked her head. “I think they're coming.”

“Oi, get up,” Ligur called to her.

“I can't, I broke my ankle,” Crowley yelled back.

“Oh, you poor thing!” The woman moved a little closer, and Crowley saw she was wearing dark glasses and was carrying a stick and whoops.

Even though no one had heard her, Crowley felt like an absolute asshole for making the mental crack about if she was blind. She was visually impaired.

“You're about two feet away from me,” Crowley told her, and smiled when she found Crowley's arm with her cane. “There you go. Shit, I'm really sorry, I'm kind of blocking the path here...”

“I'll be sure to report you to the proper authorities. Did you hit your head? Don't apologize!” The woman knelt next to her, hand on Crowley's sleeve. “You poor thing.”

“Aw, I'll be fine.” Crowley sat up and groaned. “Ow. Ow, ow, ow.”

“How's it look?” the woman asked sympathetically.

“Pretty bad,” Crowley said. “Like, it definitely looks broken.”

“What should we do?” Hastur called down to her, and Crowley put her head in her hands. Her friends were really dumb. This wasn't exactly the first time any of them had wiped out badly.

“Sweet Jesus,” the woman muttered.

“Tell me about it,” Crowley mumbled. “Never mind, guys,” she called up. “You grab the boards, I'll call an ambulance.”

“I'll call an ambulance,” the woman said. “You lie down. I was joking before, but did you hit your head?”

“No,” Crowley said. “I, um, was grinding down the railing and just landed really badly. Ankle took the brunt of it. I'm a little scraped up too, but nothing else hurts.”

“Ooof,” the woman said. “Well, small blessings. Hang on a sec.” She pulled out her phone and Crowley watched with frank curiosity as the woman called 999. Well, got Siri to call 999.

“Thank you,” Crowley said. “I mean it. You're an angel. Um. What's your name?”

The woman laughed. “Oh, right, that. I'm Aziraphale Fell. You are?”

“Antonia Crowley, but just call me Crowley. Pleased to meet you, Aziraphale. Sorry to fuck your night up.”

“You aren't,” Aziraphale said. “I promise.” She slipped her hand into Crowley's. “I'm sorry you got hurt. You sounded like you were having fun.”

Crowley lay back on the pavement, trying to ignore her throbbing ankle and attempt some version of game. “I was. I'm not great on a skateboard, but it was fun to play around. Hastur and Ligur are morons, but they're fun morons.”

Aziraphale laughed sweetly. “I get it. Skateboarding's hard! I tried it a few times, even with someone holding my hand I made it like ten feet.”

Crowley giggled. “You did good! It took me a couple tries to even go in a straight line more than a few feet.” She smiled and squeezed Aziraphale's hand. “We oughta give you another go. Once I can hold your hand.”

“You can hop,” Aziraphale said, and that's how Crowley was laughing her ass off when help finally came.

She insisted that Aziraphale didn't have to come with her, that she'd be fine sorting herself out and that she had friends with more than two braincells who could come pick her up when she was done at A&E. She also insisted on giving Aziraphale her number, and felt her phone buzz in return with a text from Aziraphale's number.

“Please let me know how you get on?” Aziraphale begged, even as Crowley was being wheeled into the ambulance.

“Promise!” she called. “Uh, have a good night?”

Aziraphale laughed, and moved into the light and Crowley finally looked at her oh no, she was beautiful. She was so beautiful.

She high-fived herself, mentally, for getting Aziraphale's number and flirting with a freshly-broken bone, although admittedly not for the first time.

Crowley: Surgery for me :(

Aziraphale: Oh no! that sucks are you okay? Do you need anything?

Crowley: I'm okay. It doesn't hurt very much. (I am very high.) I don't need anything; they sent me home until I can go under the knife. Got my leg in plaster and everything.

Aziraphale: That's not exactly What I meant, but all right. You poor love. It'll be okay I broke my ankle rather badly a few years ago and got pins put in. it's not that bad, and you'll be back on your feet a little faster.

Crowley: Holy shit how did you do that?

Aziraphale: Dreadful story. Before I tell you you have to promise to believe that blind girl does fun things too.

Crowley: I got that, skater chick.

Aziraphale: Hah. I'm really not that interesting, though. I was coming out of a bookshop and missed a step and landed just as wrong as you can land

Crowley: Oh, honey, that's awful. Uh, not to ask the obvious –

Aziraphale: Yes, I know. I can read braille. Bookshop for blind people :)

Crowley: Oh, duh, of course. I'm not actually dumb.

Aziraphale: whatever you say

Crowley: I'm not!

Crowley: Maybe a little.

Crowley: Hey, I'm sorry, I'm really tired. I'll let you know how surgery goes?

Aziraphale: Honey, you don't have to apologize for that! And yes, please? You can text me anytime.

Crowley: thanks for that. You're really nice. And pretty.

Aziraphale: Go to sleep, Crowley.

Crowley: I'm sorry if I was out of line, Aziraphale.

Aziraphale: It's all right. You aren't. I didn't want you to regret anything.

Crowley: zero regrets here

Crowley: surgery went well. In hospital tonight. Come over for tea soon? Day after tomorrow?

Aziraphale: Oh, thank God. I'm so happy for you dear. And I should like that very much.

Crowley: send you my address. Soon. Sorry. Tired.

Aziraphale: Then rest. You've been through a lot, disaster girl.

Crowley: s'okay. Oh hey. Plz don't call me girl? Sorry, will explain.

Aziraphale: Of course, I do apologize. Disaster Crowley :) rest, okay? Don't worry about anything but get ting better.

Crowley: promise :)

The buzz on Crowley's phone of course made her jump. “Hey honey, buzzing you in now,” she said in lieu of a hello.

“You could at least ask who I am first!” Aziraphale was laughing, and Crowley heard the door open. “All right, I'm in.”

“My door's open, just come in!” Crowley called. She'd already texted her address, and described where the lift was – easy to locate in relation to the door at least. She was way up in the clouds on the tenth floor, or so it felt. Easy to get there from the lift; turn right, third door on the left.

“You are going to be murdered and robbed and murdered again, and you'll deserve all of it,” Aziraphale said when she was in Crowley's flat. “How do I lock your door?”

“Oh my God, you're awful,” Crowley groaned, laughing. “About two inches above the doorknob there's a deadlock – yes, you've got it. Sorry, I'm being rude --”

“If you're getting up right now, I'm going to kick you,” Aziraphale said.

“Good leg or bad one?”

“Both.” She was grinning, and had presumably narrowed in on Crowley's voice, walking right over to her, cane sweeping before her, going around the coffee table.

“You're right next to me,” Crowley said, mouth a little dry.

“Indeed,” she said, and knelt down to pull Crowley into a hug. “You poor child. You've had a few days.”

“Uh huh.” Crowley hugged her back. “Thank you, by the way. I don't know if I remembered to say that. You helped a lot.”

“I dialed a three-digit number,” Aziraphale said. “Actually, I asked a computer programme to do so.”

“And you were nice to me. It, um. It really hurt. It was better, with you there,” Crowley confessed.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Another hug, and Crowley revelled in it. This girl was sweet. “How are you? Truly?”

“Uncomfortable, but all right,” Crowley said, sitting up a little straighter. “The surgery went well, but no weight for six weeks at least. Here, want to feel?” As Aziraphale's nod, she took her hand and stretched it, touching the edge of the cast that ran from knee to toes, rough fibreglass. “Uh, do you care about colours?”

Aziraphale laughed. “I can't picture them, but yes.”

“It's black,” Crowley said. “Like my heart.”

“Ah yes, I can tell,” Aziraphale said dryly. Her fingertips glided down the length of Crowley's leg, until her toes, where Aziraphale gave a little squeeze. “Black-hearted demon who's proper hard, that's you.”

“Glad you recognise my true nature,” Crowley said cheerfully. “Also, there's a very comfortable chair just to your left if you want to do something other than flop around on my floor. I can offer you some tea, too?”

“This I want to see,” Aziraphale said, and Crowley laughed, and produced a large flask, pressing it into her hand. “Ta-da.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Oh, of course, you clever gi-- oh, bugger, I'm sorry.”

“S'okay,” Crowley said easily. “I'll explain in a moment.” She reached for a mug and filled it, and passed it off to Aziraphale once she was seated. “There's milk on the coffee table if you like it.”

“Oh, please?” Aziraphale knelt again, clever fingers finding it, and she settled back. “Crowley, this is wonderful. You're really too kind – oh, I brought us a treat!” She reached into her bag and pulled out a bakery box, which proved to be full of lovely, buttery little cookys.

“They're my favourites,” she admitted, and Crowley smiled at her, dizzy with infatuation. She was plump and beautiful and everything Crowley had remembered from that night in the half-light; pale gold hair and pretty, dark glasses and a bit of an old-fashioned dress sense that somehow worked.

“Thank you, so much,” Crowley said, and nibbled on one, finding it rich and lovely. “Right, so. Uh, sorry, my gender is weird.”

“Gender as an entire construct is weird,” Aziraphale said. “I really am sorry I misgendered you.”

“It's all right. You're not wrong, exactly – I'm AFAB. And I use she/her pronouns, but I'm really...genderqueer, I guess?” Crowley offered. “I'm sorry, it's hard to explain. Uh. I love being high femme, and I find a huge amount of power in it, but I'm also really happy usually presenting as masc-of-centre. I had top surgery a few years ago – actually, oh, hey, do you care what I look like?”

Aziraphale laughed out loud. “I do, actually. I mean, not care-care, there isn't some...standard you have to meet, but I'm curious. You can use colour words and such, but I associate them with feelings or sensations, more than visualising a colour.”

“Oh, that's so cool!” Crowley laughed and blushed. “Oh fuck, am I fetishising you?”

“No, dearest. You're allowed to be curious. What do you look like?”

“Oh, um.” Crowley would never stop smiling. “I'm about as tall as you are, I think. I'm skinny, with red hair I've got in a short undercut. When I grow it out it gets all wavy, though. Uh. Flat-chested like I told you. Not much of a waist or hips. Pale brown eyes, and a really sharp face. I'm wearing a grey t-shirt and cutoff grey sweatpants. I already told you about my cast. I have chipped red polish on my nails, and they're cut short. I have a few piercings in my earlobes, and a tattoo of a snake all up my left arm and the front of my shoulder.”

“Oh, how lovely!” Aziraphale said, and Crowley considered expiring right there.

“It is,” she said, and shyly – “When it gets warm, the ink sometimes gets raised, so you might be able to feel it. In summer.”

“I look forward to it,” Aziraphale said, and oh shit oh shit yep, they were flirting. Woohoo!

Also, fuck! They were flirting!

“So, yeah. Sorry, it's really weird. I don't like to be called a girl or a woman,” Crowley explained. “Because I'm not. I am, a little bit, but I'm not.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale said gently. “Crowley, you're not that weird. I understand.”

“Oh, good,” Crowley sighed. “I'm sorry, I'm also making assumptions. Pronouns for you?”

“She and her,” Aziraphale said. “I'm a cis woman, but not terribly fussed about it. I expect someday I'll be comfortable describing myself as agender, but I'm not quite there yet.”

“I get it,” Crowley said softly, and smiled at her. “What do you do?”

“I'm an historian, actually.” Aziraphale's smile grew. “And you've been very good and not asked me the usual stuff, so you get that too. I was born blind, and I'm completely blind – I can't see anything, ever. I am told my eyes look strange, so consider this a heads-up. I live alone and completely independently, and please let me ask you for help if I need it.” “Aziraphale, of the two of us, who strikes you as the one most likely to be described as an utter disaster in need of constant assistance?” Crowley asked, dizzy with adoration.

“Point, but I do like to lay that out early.” She grinned, and sipped her tea. “Okay, who do you know who's blind?”

Crowley laughed. “How did you guess?”

“You give good directions, and you're not weird. Spill, child.”

Crowley grinned. “You're going to laugh. To actually answer your question, one of my colleagues is, uh, I guess 80% blind? They can see some things, in a very small part of their field of vision. More generally, I work for a company that does consultations around making buildings accessible. Well, any space really, but we've tended to fall into new builds. Basically I have the best job ever, I make architects cry.”

Aziraphale laughed and clapped her hands. “You darling! That honestly sounds fascinating.”

“It is,” Crowley said. “I love being a thorn in the side and sending projects over-budget. And it's so fucking stupid – why would you build something that only part of the population can use easily? Anyway, yeah. Uh, sorry if I'm using words you don't like, but I'm really comfortable with disability?”

“No, that's fine,” Aziraphale said. “I have...a lot of feelings about being blind. But disability is one word you can apply to it, although for the record I consider myself situationally disabled. I do great, in the right environment.”

“Exactly,” Crowley said, and smiled at her. “I had the best timing for an accident in the world, you know.”

Aziraphale giggled. “You'd have got yourself up eventually. I am really glad I got to meet you, though. Really truly, you're going to be all right?”

“Really truly,” Crowley promised. “This isn't my first broken bone, or even my first time on crutches. I'll be fine in a few weeks, I promise. I've got friends who can drop in and do grocery runs or whatever, and needless to say my office is, uh, very adaptation-friendly. I can work from here once I'm up to it.”

Aziraphale giggled again. “I'd hope so!” She smiled and settled back in her chair. “My black-hearted Crowley.”

Crowley smiled and felt shivery all over. Oh, they were definitely flirting. “So how did you get into history, honey?”

“Well, I always loved it...” Aziraphale chattered happily about her studies, and Crowley almost fell off the sofa when she airily talked about getting her doctorate at Oxford oh my god she was so out of her league this was insane. The smartest, prettiest, funniest, nicest girl in the world was sat on Crowley's armchair, chattering away happily like she wanted nothing more than to be right here, talking to a ding-dong with a broken ankle.

They talked about Aziraphale's work, the book she was writing on the history of the printed word (“I know, the jokes write themselves. But it's so fascinating!”), how she lived in Soho and wasn't it lucky that Crowley was just a little way's away in Mayfair.

Crowley was a little quieter, just listening and taking in this amazing woman. Aziraphale was so smart, and funny and dry and...possibly she fancied Crowley too? Maybe? Her physical tells were different from what Crowley was used to, but she was warm and called Crowley 'honey' and insisted on making another round of tea.

Crowley actually did get up for that, hauling herself up and into her kitchen, where she talked Aziraphale through where the kettle was, and the tea, and soon they were settled back in the living room with fresh mugs – and a few changes. Like how Crowley was sat up, leg propped up on the coffee table this time, and how Aziraphale was right next to her, a deliciously warm presence.

“Forgive my asking, but how did you get into your line of work?” Aziraphale asked, and Crowley was extremely, extremely aware that their shoulders were brushing together.

“No, it's fair – I'm not disabled. Er, well, I am at the moment, but you get the idea.” Crowley giggled softly, inviting Aziraphale in on the joke. “I studied architecture a little, and law a little, and liked them both but not enough to go all the way. So I fell into it a bit. I like what I do – I'm literally paid to destroy visions, it's great.”

Aziraphale snickered. “Your honesty is refreshing.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Crowley shrugged. “The way we've designed the world is so dumb, and that makes me angry. It's so easy to make things accessible! For everyone! I, personally, am really excited about the fact that there are lifts in Tube stations for the next six weeks, and curb cuts are going to be pretty sweet too.”

“Curb cuts are the gift that gives to everyone,” Aziraphale agreed. “Easy to tell where to cross.”

Crowley smiled. “Exactly! It's like...look, everyone is going to be disabled at some point in their lives, or so close to everyone that it doesn't matter. But also...even if that weren't the case, we should still design for everyone.” She sighed. “It's bloody frustrating. And temporary disability is so different from permanent...look, when I started work, I went to this class. Six week crash course on design for disability, really. It was...I think they meant well. We were supposed to experience dealing with disability in the built environment ourselves.”

“Tell me absolutely everything about the week you had to do blindness,” Aziraphale begged. “I can only imagine the shit show.”

“Okay, first, the cane thing is hard,” Crowley complained, and Aziraphale started laughing. She wiggled when she was joyful. Crowley was going to throw herself out a window. “It is! We got a lecture, then someone blindfolded me and handed me a cane and I had to not die.”

“Oh my God, that's actually cruel,” Aziraphale said, still laughing weakly.

“There was a man who used a cane there to talk us through it. He could see a little, and he laughed at me,” Crowley said glumly.

“Poor dear,” Aziraphale said.

“I was pretty bad.”

“I know, I meant him,” she giggled. “Oh, Crowley. Anything else?”

Crowley smiled and nudged her. “Oi, some friend you are. Um. I can't read Braille but I've tried, and it was really interesting. It was cool holding onto someone and walking around the city. Listening to everything – traffic and people, and all that. I actually did okay with that, and I know how to hold my arm and stuff if you ever need me to guide you or whatever.”

“Oh, that's good to know,” Aziraphale said. “What'd you think of it all?”

“Good for teaching compassion, and the reasons behind laws.” Crowley said. “Awful for...look, you can't really take disability out for a spin, you know? I don't know anything about what your day-to-day life is like because I spent three hours walking around an office block with a cane. I had to spend a day in a wheelchair too, among other stuff and it's not the same. It's good for understanding the practicalities, but I always came home and desperately needed a shower, y'know?”

“I get it,” Aziraphale said gently. “You can always open your eyes, or get up and walk. And I've had my whole life to learn. Things are instinct for me that never would be for you. You'll always struggle more in my world than I will in yours.”

“Exactly,” Crowley said, and smiled when Aziraphale got a little closer. “So yeah. I understand intimately why slopes for wheelchair access are what they are – and not just my little spin 'round, I was in a car accident a couple years ago and had to use a wheelchair for a few months – but I'm acutely aware that that's not the same as living it.”

“Good God, you poor thing!” Aziraphale reached for her hand and squeezed it. “You are the original Disaster Gay, aren't you?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Crowley said, cackling. “You think you're the first pretty lady I've tried to pick up while waiting for medical help?” Aziraphale groaned. “I don't want to know. I mean, I do, but not until I can have a drink in my hand.”

Crowley laughed out loud. “Next date? There's a lovely pub just down the street, and I'm actually not bad on crutches.”

“Oh, is this a date?” Aziraphale asked, smiling.

“I'd like it to be,” Crowley said frankly. “But it doesn't have to be. I'm really happy having my new friend Aziraphale over too.”

Aziraphale was quiet for a moment, thoughtful. “I think...I'm sorry. You're wonderful, Crowley. But I take a little while to...open up, I guess. Can it be two friends having drinks, and maybe be a date another time?”

“Honey, of course,” Crowley said softly. “It can never be a date, and I'll be so happy to have met you. I like you, Aziraphale.”

“I like you too,” she said, and laughed, and squeezed Crowley's hand. “Thank you for understanding. My history is...complicated. In addition to being demisexual. But I'm so glad you wiped out six inches from me.” A pause. “The six inches being the important bit. Thank you for not taking me out.”

Crowley giggled and squeezed back. “My pleasure, angel.”

They talked a little more, nothing of any importance, before Aziraphale had to go to get dinner with a friend. Crowley assembled some manners and walked her to the door, and even managed a kind of carefully-balanced, one-armed hug.

“Best accident ever,” she said, squeezing Aziraphale tightly.

“Disaster gay,” Aziraphale accused her, and hugged back. “Text or call me if you need me. Or just to say hi.”

Crowley smiled. “I will. Enjoy dinner, honey. You okay getting out?”

“Fine,” she promised, and, light as a moth's wing, she kissed Crowley's cheek before leaving. “And lock up behind me before you get murdered!”

Crowley laughed, and did so, pleased as could be. Oh, this was going to be so much fun.

[lynnearlington]

kara/lena high school part time job

Kara takes the job at the pumpkin patch because she’s known Mr. Ehlers her whole life and along with her hourly wage he offers her a free pick of pumpkins and free hot apple cider every shift.

The work isn’t bad either. It’s only a few hours every weeknight and she gets to be outside, meeting all different kinds of people.

Her friends stop by too, pick out their pumpkins for their annual contest while she’s working. Alex, who takes the event as seriously as Kara does, monopolizes nearly a half hour of Kara’s time picking out the perfect one.

Aside from that, the job is mostly uneventful. Kara walks down the rows of pumpkins and helps out anyone that looks lost, takes a few shifts at the register checking people out.

On one particular night as Kara’s rearranging a display of pumpkins painted with black cats, she notices a girl staring down at a pile of pumpkins for long enough that Kara feels her help is likely needed. She straightens out her vest and makes sure her nameplate is on display before strolling towards the girl.

It isn’t until she’s too close not to get noticed that she realizes who it is. Lena Luthor.

The realization makes her trip a little, but she plays it off as much as she can by kicking a nearby pumpkin and laughing at herself when Lena startles and looks over.

“Stupid pumpkin,” she mumbles, fighting a blush when Lena just looks at her, eyebrows raised.

It’s not her fault that Lena’s one of the more popular, elusive figures in their high school. Lex Luthor’s little sister and the only person in their class to get a perfect SAT score. Kara’s had a passive crush on her since they were biology partners sophomore year and Lena laughed one time at Kara’s dumb joke about pigs while they were dissecting one.

“Gotta watch out for those,” Lena replies dryly, looking Kara up and down once before turning back to the pumpkins at her feet.

“Yeah, totally,” Kara says, running her palms down the front of her vest and swallowing. “Hi, Lena.”

“Kara,” Lena greets with a slow nod of her head.

Kara puts on her best customer service smile. “Can I help you out with the pumpkins?”

Lena kicks her toe lightly against a nearby pumpkin and glances back at Kara. “I think I’m just looking.”

“Well, I’m here if you need me,” Kara says, hands in her pockets as she rocks a bit on her heels. Lena nods absently at her and Kara should probably turn and walk away, but her feet feel rooted to the ground even though she can’t think of anything useful to say.

Lena glances at her again, looks confused by Kara’s continued presence, but doesn’t comment. Instead, she turns to walk down the path, her eyes on the pumpkins.

“You know what you’re going to carve?” Kara says, feet finally moving to follow behind Lena and words coming out a bit more eager than she’d like.

“Pardon?” Lena’s hands are in the pockets of her light grey jacket and she turns to watch Kara skip her direction.

“On the pumpkin,” Kara clarifies, coming back beside Lena and walking with her through the rows.

“Oh,” Lena says, a play of a smile on Lena’s lips giving Kara a stitch of confidence. “I hadn’t thought about it.

“I’ve got tons of ideas if you need help with that too. It’s always better to have a plan.” Kara knows she’s sounding probably far too enthusiastic about pumpkin carving compared to the normal person, but her mouth starts inventing things to say to Lena before she can stop it.

Lena stops again, her lips thinning into what looks like the beginning of a smile and she laughs just enough to make Kara feel warm up her throat. “I think I’ll just go for the normal jack o’lantern look,” Lena says. “I’m not really sure.”

“A classic,” Kara says, nodding in agreement. “Respect.”

“Thanks,” Lena replies, but she draws the word out with a tinge of sarcasm that makes Kara blush.

“Sorry,” Kara says. “Am I bothering you?”

Lena glances away for a moment before offering Kara a full smile. “No, you’re fine.” They’re quiet a moment, Lena turning back to look at the pumpkins before she speaks again. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Part time, obviously,” Kara answers, moving to stand next to Lena and observe the pumpkins as well. It strikes her a bit odd that Lena would say that - as if Lena would know anything about Kara’s life other than they go to the same school and Kara’s full of really great biology-related puns. “My family’s been coming here since I was little.”

“That’s nice,” Lena says in a quiet voice before abruptly bending down to pick up a large pumpkin at her feet. It looks just on the too-heavy side so Kara reaches out to steady Lena’s grip, their hands brushing against each other briefly.

“Careful,” Kara tells her after Lena’s secured her hold on the pumpkin.

“Thanks.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Kara says, as gung-ho as she can manage.

There’s a light flush in Lena’s cheeks that Kara attributes to the chilly breeze fluttering past them. “Well, I think this one works,” Lena says, hefting the weight of it in her hands and holding it against her stomach.

Kara eyes it skeptically, a bit confused at the abrupt choice. “You sure?”

Lena smiles, her lips pressed together and her dark hair fluttering a bit across her face. When she moves a hand to put her hair back behind her ear, she struggles again with the weight of the pumpkin and Kara has to jump forward and grab it before it falls to the ground and likely smashes there.

“Ooof,” Kara exhales, taking the pumpkin in her own hands and laughing at the startled look on Lena’s face.

“Sorry!”

“How about I carry the pumpkin?” Kara offers, laughing at the embarrassment on Lena’s face. “Are you even sure you want this big guy?”

Hands now free, Lena runs her fingers through her hair to straighten it, pulling it back and off her head in quick agile motions that Kara can’t help but track. “It seems fine.”

Kara clicks her tongue in disappointment and moves to set the pumpkin back down. “You can’t settle for fine,” she says and she smiles entreatingly at Lena. “Come on, I can help.”

Lena seems to take a deep breath, hands retreating back into the pockets of her jacket. “Sure, okay,” she says softly and it shouldn’t excite Kara as much as it does, but her stomach flips over nonetheless.

“Great!” The word squeaks out of her much higher than intended, but she turns to lead Lena back down the through the rows of pumpkins before the other girl can catch a glimpse of her blush.

They spend the next fifteen minutes together strolling down the paths of pumpkins. Ehlers’s Pumpkin Patch is the largest in the county and Kara fills the time explaining its history and how the pumpkins are organized.

It’s probably a lot more information than Lena really cares to hear about, but she stays quiet and listens to Kara as she details her favorite designs and which pumpkins work best for which ones.

Just as they’ve stopped in front of a small pile of medium sized pumpkins and Kara’s lifting one up she thinks would work for Lena, they’re interrupted by a loud call of Lena’s name from across the patch.

Lena jumps as she hears it and Kara nearly drops the pumpkin, but they both turn towards the sound. It’s Lex Luthor. Lena’s older brother, graduated nearly two years ago, but famous at their high school. He’s strolling towards them in jeans and a large black sweater, scarf loose around his neck.

“Lena, you ready?” Lex is asking, smiling charmingly at Kara as he gets closer. “If Mother doesn’t get a glass of chardonnay soon she might start taking it out on civilians.”

It hadn’t occurred to Kara that the rest of the Luthor clan might be there and she nods at Lex, a little taken aback by his presence.

“Yeah, sorry,” Lena says, breathing out the words and offering Kara an apologetic smile.

Lex glances between them, bemusement obvious on his face as he puts his hands on his hips and arches an expectant brow at his sister when she makes no other movement. “Well? Let’s go.”

“Right yeah,” Lena says again, shaking her head. She reaches out to put her hand on Kara’s forearm, holds it there warmly for a few seconds until the feeling shoots straight up Kara’s arm. “Thanks for your help, Kara.”

“Yeah, anytime,” Kara manages to reply through the sudden dryness of her throat.

Lena smiles, the look doing nothing to calm the beating of her heart and the awareness that Lena Luthor is touching her. “See you at school,” Lena adds before turning to join her brother and head towards the exit.

It doesn’t occur to her until Lena’s well out of sight that Kara’s still holding her pumpkin and Lena left empty handed.

–

They don’t see each other at school like Lena said. Not really anyway. They don’t share any classes together this semester and they’re on different lunch schedules.

Kara’d like to say that Lena leaving the pumpkin patch without a pumpkin wasn’t something that was occupying a lot of her thoughts throughout the day, but that’d be a lie.

It consumes her so much that she knows she’s not going to be able to let it go until she’s assured Lena has her pumpkin for whatever she needed it for. The pumpkin they’d picked out together is sitting in a safe spot that Kara’d hid it in the night before.

After her shift, she clocks out right on time, skips her usual free cider and even declines an invitation to run over to a local Fall Festival. Instead she hefts the pumpkin up into her arms and has every intention of loading it into her car and driving over to the Luthor household to personally deliver Lena her pumpkin.

In fact, she gets all the way to her car with the pumpkin and is struggling to get the back door open when a spattering of footsteps across the gravel parking lot draws her attention.

It’s the object of her thoughts, half jogging her way and smiling as she leans across Kara’s body and helps her with the back door.

“Lena,” Kara greets, breathing the name out in surprise and trying not to sound too pleased.

“Hi,” Lena says, sounding uncharacteristically shy. She’s dressed in dark tight jeans and an oversized grey sweater, her hair loose on her shoulders and looking just as crushworthy as ever.

“Hey, you forgot your pumpkin yesterday,” Kara says, lifting the pumpkin up in her arms to show Lena.

Lena blinks at it, seems almost startled by the reminder as if there’d be another reason for her to show up at the pumpkin patch that night. “Oh, right,” Lena says softly, a hesitant smile on her face.

“Good thing I brought it out,” Kara says with a happy grin. She gestures towards the entrance to the pumpkin patch with a shrug of her shoulder. “We’re closed.”

A beat of silence as Lena look towards the darkened lights of the Ehler’s Pumpkin Patch sign. “Good thing,” she says through a smile that looks just a bit off.

Kara’s not sure how to read it, but she’s seen Lena have the expression before. Years of going to school with Lena and nearly as many having an unwavering crush on her meant Kara’s relatively familiar with Lena’s cadre of emotions and expressions. Most of the time, Lena’s expression hovers somewhere between two emotions, relatively unreadable as a result.

So she moves past it with an easy smile and hip checks her car door so it closes again. “Do you want me to bring it to your car?” Kara offers and Lena straightens with a polite smile.

“Yeah,” she says after another moment of silent consideration. “That’d be nice, thanks.”

She waits for Lena to turn and lead them that direction, takes a deep calming breath before following the other girl. Lena’s sleek looking white car is parked not too far away and Kara waits for her to pop the trunk before setting Lena’s pumpkin there.

Straightening, she scuffs her hands together to shake off any lingering dirt and smiles widely at Lena. “Mission accomplished.”

Lena returns the expression, a more genuine look than earlier, but after a moment frowns and starts to pat at her pockets. “I need to pay you,” she says hastily, clearly searching for a wallet she can’t seem capable of finding. “My purse is in the car.”

Moving around Kara, Lena heads to her front door, but Kara grabs her elbow and halts the motion with a laugh. “Lena it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t be silly,” Lena says, looking incredulous. “I’m not going to let you spend your money like that.”

Kara laughs, but let’s Lena go ahead and open her car, bending to reach across the seats and pull a tote from inside. “It’s really not that big a deal.”

“What did it cost?” Lena asks, head down as she fishes inside her bag. “Ten dollars? Twenty?”

Eyebrows raising, Kara tries not to laugh again, but reaches out to touch Lena’s arm and stop her flurry of motion. “Lena, it’s barely the price of a cup of coffee.”

A flit of embarrassment flushes across Lena’s face. “Oh,” she says succinctly, punctuated by a quick chuckle.  

“Like I said, don’t worry about it,” Kara dismisses, waving her hand at Lena and smiling. “I couldn’t let you go without a pumpkin to carve.”

She puts her hands back to her hips and lifts her chest a bit in an exaggerated heroic pose that makes Lena laugh again. The sound floats so prettily across the chill fall air and that Kara feels herself warm all over.

“Such a hero,” Lena jokes, abandoning her bag back to the driver’s seat of her car and crossing her arms over her chest.

“All part of the job,” Kara says in a haughty voice that makes them both smile before she relaxes her posture and just enjoys a few moments of hovering in Lena’s presence.

Lena’s eyes search her face for a few seconds, her teeth poking out to bite softly at her bottom lip before she seems to come to a decision. “The price of a coffee you said?”

Kara’s brows pull down the slightest, but she smiles as she nods. “That’s right.”

“Well,” Lena says on a deep breath. “Then you’ll have to let me buy you that coffee.”

Kara blinks, takes a second to process the offer and the nervous look on Lena’s face. “Right now?”

Lena shifts on her feet, shrugs a shoulder. “Are you free?”

“Uh,” Kara’s mouth gapes a second, her palms feel suddenly clammy and she stuffs them into the pockets of her jeans. “Yeah, definitely.”

“Good,” Lena says definitively, nodding sharply and uncrossing her arms. “Starbucks on Elm?”

“Yeah, sure,” Kara says though she doesn’t get all the words out before Lena’s sliding into her car and shutting the door. The engine roars to life and Kara’s still standing there, staring at Lena’s figure in the front seat until she realizes she should probably move.

“See you there,” she yells out, bending over to wave through the window of Lena’s car.

Lena waves back, smiles and Kara tries not to run to her own car across the lot.

–

They meet up at the small Starbucks not too far from their school. It’s open for a few more hours and mostly devoid of people.

Kara immediately orders a pumpkin spice latte because they’re advertised all over the massive menu boards over the register and when Lena tries to order a boring americano, Kara talks her into changing. “Get in the spirit, Lena,” she says and it doesn’t take much convincing before Lena’s rolling her eyes and ordering the same as Kara.

They find a table in the back, tucked around a corner and mostly private. It’s the first time Kara’s ever really been alone with Lena. They’ve been in the same classes for most of grade school, and even partnered together on a spattering of projects, but they don’t run in the same social circles and it’s rare for Kara to ever spend this much time with Lena outside school.

It feels exciting and nerve racking and Kara’s sure the sugar in the drink she’s practically chugging down is not helping.

“Thanks for the coffee,” Kara says softly, smiling at the face Lena makes when she takes a sip of her drink - somewhere between a wince and hesitant enjoyment.

“This isn’t coffee,” Lena says, but a smile is tugging at the corner of her lips that makes Kara want to laugh.

“Thanks anyway,” she replies, sitting forward in her chair.

“Thanks for the pumpkin,” Lena counters and it’s then that Kara’s nerves start to ratchet up.

What do you talk about to the girl you’ve crushed on for years, the girl that most of the school probably crushes on? Kara searches her brain for something interesting to say, dismisses about sixteen different ideas for being either too nerdy or too boring. In the end, she settles on: “So did you decide what you’re carving?”

A quizzical look crosses Lena’s face before it clears and she laughs softly. “I think I’ll stick with the jack o’lantern look. It feels in my wheelhouse.”

Kara fights a look of disdain, but shrugs in passive agreement. “I suppose you can’t go wrong with that one.”

It turns out Kara doesn’t quite succeed in hiding her expression because Lena laughs again and bends her head to catch Kara’s eyes. “Your face says otherwise.”

“Oops,” Kara says, making a show of covering her face with her hands until Lena reaches over and peels one away. The touch makes Kara’s knee start to bounce before she takes a breath and stills it.

“I’m assuming you have a better idea?”

Kara waggles her eyebrows and fishes in her pocket for her phone. “You’re going to regret asking me that,” she says and Lena lets out an exaggerated sigh, but she’s grinning at Kara - an expression Kara can’t help but want to keep on Lena’s face as long as possible.

“I’m sure I will,” she says, leaning forward when Kara puts her phone on the table and opens up her photo album entitled carving ideas.

It doesn’t take long for Kara to convince Lena to at least jazz up the classic pumpkin face with a few different details - picture after picture of Kara’s own versions help her argument. After Lena agrees to make some adjustments to her design and Kara claps way too excitedly about it, the conversation winds its way through topic after topic.

It’s the longest she and Lena have ever held a conversation, and the coffee makes her jittery. But Lena is so pretty in the dim lighting of the Starbucks and if she focuses on that twenty percent less, she finds that they’re good at talking to each other. It helps that Lena laughs at all her dumb jokes, the kind of puns that usually Alex calls lame.

As they talk, she learns things about Lena she hadn’t thought to know before. Like how Lena is so much smarter than even a perfect SAT score would imply. That she goes skiing every winter break with her family and that she hates PSLs and has an irrational fear of empty swimming pools.

Kara feels like her crush is expansive in her chest, pressing down and spiraling outward in a way that’s starting to feel overwhelming.

“I don’t do haunted houses,” Lena says, waving her hand in Kara’s face as if the idea could get wiped from her mind. Kara laughs, smacking Lena’s hand from her airspace and trying to ignore the hot feeling that runs up her arm at the brief contact. Their coffees are long finished, sitting on the table between them.

“But it’s October!” Kara says. “You should come with me. I know a great one upstate that you have to sign a waiver for before going.”

Lena blinks, her smile incredulous as is the laugh she lets out. “You could not pay me to do that.”

“They’re open Friday,” Kara tells her, the offer clear.

“Nope,” Lena says, popping the word out of her mouth definitively. She leans back in her seat and affects a look of nonchalance that’s familiar to Kara from school. But there’s a small quirk to her lips that indicates a smile lurking beneath it.

“Yes, totally, thank you for inviting me, Kara is what I think you meant to say there,” Kara says.

“You should get your hearing checked,” Lena replies dryly.

“Come on,” Kara entreats, enjoying the careful suppression of a smile on Lena’s face. “It’ll be fun. We can go after the game.”

“I don’t do football games or haunted houses,” Lena says, her grin finally breaking across her face slowly. “Get it into your head, Danvers.”

“Oh, totally, for sure. I forgot Lena Luthor is too cool for such things,” Kara says, nodding overly serious, but laughing when Lena frowns.

“Jerk,” Lena says, but she starts laughing too and her toe collides with Kara’s shin under the table in a gesture that makes Kara’s stomach flip over.

–

The poor Starbucks worker kicks them out ten minutes to close, glaring unhappily at them for holding up her night. Kara feels nearly as light as a feather as they make their way through the parking lot to their cars. Lena’s arm in her coat brushes Kara’s. There’s a violent urge in Kara to sling her arm up around Lena’s shoulders and pull her close.

“I have something to confess,” Lena says as they idle by her car. The moon is bright up above them, a little chill in the air. Lena’s pale skin is even prettier in the October night.

“What’s that?”

“I didn’t need that pumpkin,” she says softly, looking towards her trunk. Kara blinks. Why would Lena not need a pumpkin? She had been in a pumpkin patch. What else would she have been there for?

“What?”

“I didn’t need it,” Lena repeats. “That’s not why I came back to the pumpkin patch tonight. Lex had already got me one yesterday.”

Confused, Kara tries to figure out what that means. “Then why did you…?”

Lena takes a deep breath, fiddles around with her keys and shrugs. “I came back to see you.”

“Me?” It comes out a bit too loud, but she can’t help it as she points at herself, eyebrows shooting upward.

It makes Lena laugh even as a flush creeps up her neck. “Yes, you.”

“Me,” Kara repeats. “Me?”

“No, I came to see Mr. Ehlers himself,” Lena says, deadpan. Kara feels like her hands are going to shake their way out of her coat, they’re buzzing with nervousness so much.

“Why’d you want to see me?” Kara says. “I mean, I wanted to see you too. Obviously. Because I had a pumpkin for you. Very serious business. Pumpkin business, you know-”

She is blissfully interrupted by Lena Luthor grabbing ahold of the lapel of her coat and pulling her close. Their lips meet then, and Kara for sure hits cloud nine in four seconds flat, even when she can’t really figure out how to do anything. It’s more like their lips just hit each other and all sense of time and memory escapes Kara. They pull away slowly, Kara still pressed somewhat close to Lena, and she feels the dopiest grin come across her face as she looks down at Lena.

“Cool,” is all Kara can think to say, the lingering taste of pumpkin spice on her lips - whether from her own drink or from Lena’s mouth she’s not sure. “I get it now.”

Lena rolls her eyes, her fingers running up the collar of Kara’s coat until they brush against the hair at the nape of her neck and it feels so good that she can’t help but lean forward to kiss Lena again. It’s inexpert and the best, kissing Lena Luthor.

Pumpkins and free apple cider is cool, for sure. But this is way better.

FALL PROMPTS | MY KO-FI

[bookenders]

11/11/11 Tag Game!

Tagged by @writer-by-the-window​! Thank you thank you! I love doin’ these. Everyone comes up with such good questions! 

Rules: Answer 11 questions, ask 11 questions, tag 11 people.

1. Did you outline your wip or are you writing by the seat of your pants?

Both! Ish. I usually write by the seat of my pants, but I am outlining this time since it’s a longer project. Everything I’m outlining is being written from said pants seat, though! It’s a surprise every time I sit down. Ba-dum-tss.

Who’s your favorite character to write about and why?

In H2H, I like writing about Oz and Harry. But I also like writing from Gemma’s POV, which is good, since nearly the whole story is from her POV. Oz and Harry have such a fun dynamic. He’s a cactus, she’s the cactus wren who makes the cactus habitable... Okay bad metaphor, but you get what I mean, yeah? 

Gemma is a big nerd who gets excited about things and feels pretty strongly, even if she doesn’t care to show it a lot of the time. And her thought process is fun to write, too. She’s very different from other characters I’ve written. She’s super intuitive and perceptive. 

I’m looking forward to writing about Mel, too. I have a lot of info about her that’ll be revealed in the story and my friends, it’s juicy. Like a mango.🍑 (there is no mango emoji how dare)

  What’s your favorite medium for storytelling other than novels(TV, movies, video games, podcasts, etc)?

Ooof. Favorite to create? Interactive storytelling, like with Twine. It is Difficult. I enjoy it. I did one and am working up the courage to do another. Or I’ll go back and fix the one I did. Who knows?

Favorite to consume? Can it be a tie between video games, TV, and movies? Because I just started getting into podcasts after The Adventure Zone, and the only streaming I really watch anymore is Critical Role. I wanna get into Starship Iris though! Looks super cool. 

I’m a huge ho for video games. Especially RPGs. I have played Dragon Age: Origins too many times for it to be considered a hobby at this point. I was a big WoW gamer, too. And Assassin’s Creed. And pretty much anything with a good story.

How long have you been working on your WIP?

Since late October 2018! Not the longest I’ve worked on one project though. My thesis took me a little less than a year. I thought I’d be finished by December. HA.

What are some of your least favorite tropes in fiction?

Rape/non-con for character development. Fridging characters and the ever so popular Disposable Woman. Magical Healing Penis. Romanticizing horrific circumstances and serious & terminal illnesses. Some things Me Before You did. To name a few.

Do you have any writing role models? If so, who are they and why?

My biggie is Laurie. Halse. Anderson. Read Wintergirls when I was a kid. Taught me that people do actually like to read the dark stuff, which is the opposite of what a lot of people told me. She’s a badass who lives in the woods and writes amazing books about difficult subjects that people, especially younger people, need to read about and be aware of. 

AND I’M GOING TO A SIGNING THIS MONTH. I GET TO MEET HER. AHHH.

(Also, if anyone likes Tom Leveen, author of Party, Sick, Mercy Rule, and Random, I can vouch for his extreme coolness. He subbed for my YA Lit professor one time and taught us all about how to handle the business part of becoming an author.)

What do you like the most about your writing?

How emotional I can get with so few words. I’m real good at making readers cry. Hehe.

What are some songs that you have on your writing playlist right now?

My Heart to Heart playlist is right here! And I have individual character playlists that I’ll be posting once I’m “finished” curating them. If I’m ever finished. 

Do you have any characters based off of real people?

I try not to. I think it gets a little weird if I do that. I’ve only recently started letting myself be inspired by people I know. Like Mary is definitely based on one of my aunts, and Harry has some qualities that I stole from my best friend. I gave Mel my love of fanny packs/bum bags if that counts. I love how weird they look and how useful they are! You get made fun of for wearing one to Disneyland on a class trip until you are the Keeper of the Wallets. Then who’s laughing, fools?

How would you describe the aesthetic of your wip?

Warm apple pie, cumulus clouds, walking down the street at sunset holding hands, smoking beakers, one of those electricity balls that look like bottled lightning, kitchen giggles, Saturday morning Scooby Doo marathons, plant sprouts pushing their way out of the dirt, neighborhood block parties, that brain-pokey feeling when you know something isn’t quite right.

Favorite line you’ve written?

From the story I read in front of like 80 people:

Looking at something pretty only makes you feel good for as long as you look at it, for that one tiny slice of life, and then you blink and turn away and it fades, unless you’re lucky and it keeps cropping up behind your eyes when you go to sleep at night.

My questions!

Do you own and fun socks? What are they?

How many notebooks do you have? What do they look like? How full are they?

Grab the book nearest you. Turn to page 70 (or 16 if it’s a tiny book). What is the 8th line on that page? How do you feel about it?

Have you read any short stories? What’s your favorite? 

Have you ever tried knitting? Do you still knit? What about other crafty things? What do you make?

Of the books in your living space right now, which has the coolest cover?

Do you know any camp songs? What did you used to sing in school, or at recess?

What’s your favorite fairy tale? How would you twist it?

Are there any cool local events where you live?

What’s your favorite sea creature? 

Do you like turtles? Why?

Bilbo Taggins: @aslanwrites, @quilloftheclouds, @mvcreates, @drist-n-dither, @carumens, @hannahs-creations, @haileyavril, @nightskywriter, @penzag, @capricious-writes, @mythwords

[marlettwrites]

11/11/11 Tag Game

Rules: answer eleven (11) questions, tag eleven (11) people, and ask eleven (11) questions.

Thanks to @practising-writer for the tag!

1. Do you imagine what your WIP would look like as a movie?

I see it more as an animated show in my head. It’s really hard for me to picture the characters as like... real people? If that makes sense? I view and treat them as people when I’m writing and creating them, but I can’t picture my characters with actual human faces, you know? My brain doesn’t go into that level of detail. Lol.

2. What character archetype do you like most?

I’d have to say the morally grey antagonist. Love me some inner conflict about doing the ‘right thing’.

3. How do you feel when you know that you have to write a scene where your protag suffers?

Kinda sad, and kinda proud because I know he’ll survive and then use it to grow stronger as a person. Sometimes. Spoilers. Shhh.

4. What’s your favorite genre to read and write?

Ooof, I gotta say fantasy? I love writing fantasy. And I love reading urban fantasy specifically. Sci-fi is also great to read.

5. Who is your favorite character of all time? (Can be a book, TV show, movie, video game, any medium really)

Urrghhh don’t make me pick!

I’m going to seem really self-centered with this, but I have to say Jude is my favorite character. I came up with him about 5 years ago and I love the guy to death.

6. What do you do to set yourself in a writing mood?

I close out every tab on my computer that isn’t Google Docs or Spotify, put on the playlist of the POV character I’m working with, and then I force myself to stare at the page until I can put the words down.

Sometimes I look away from the screen and stare off into space. I always have to imagine the scene in my head before I write it, and I can’t do that if I’m looking at where the scene is supposed to go.

7. What lessons, if any, do you want readers to learn from your WIP?

Oof, rolling out the toughies, eh?

In all seriousness, I want readers to come away with a better understanding of LGBTQ+ people and the struggles we face. For my LGBTQ+ readers with parents or friends who are homo/transphobic, I want them to come away knowing that there is nothing wrong with them. I want them to be able to feel safe and secure in their identities.

If said homophobic parents/friends somehow make it through my gay as hell series, I want them to be able to open their eyes to how painful it is to be raised in an environment where your sexuality is treated like a disease. Maybe they’ll learn to be more open minded. Maybe they’ll find my social media and curse at me. I look forward to it either way.

This is getting long, but there are some other things, so I’ll just uh...

-People with disabilities have feelings and talents of their own, so y’know... treat them like actual people. The golden rule is key, my dudes.

-Women don’t have to be physically strong in order to be strong people.

-Sometimes people have medical issues that prevent them from losing weight, no matter how much they exercise or what foods they eat. Some people just have a softer body type. They are still beautiful and still valid. Be kind.

-Obligatory don’t judge a book by its cover lesson.

8. Which mythology do you like?

Egyptian always. Hindu mythology is also super interesting.

9. If you met one of your OCs in real life for the first time, what would you do? (Pick any specific OC you like)

I pick Hathor. Art buddies for life!

I’d show her my paintings and ask her to teach me how to sculpt. I’d show her the pottery wheel I got for Christmas a few years ago and maybe we’d figure out how to work it together. 

10. Favorite time of the day to write?

Midnight to like 3AM. It’s so quiet and there are no distractions.

11. What is your favorite story of all time? (Again, can be a book, TV show, movie, video game, etc.)

I really love the Ash Mistry book series (it’s like Percy Jackson, but with Hindu mythology and the monsters bleed. Oh my gods do they bleed). So I’d have to say that one is my favorite. 

I actually came away from the series feeling so much more appreciative of my family and my life, and honestly, it was the first time I’ve ever felt anything like that after reading a book.

So yeah. 15/10, would absolutely recommend.

Tagging: @ephemeralseraph, @lemon-i-scream, @quilloftheclouds, @queenie-dragon, @whywritewhenyoucansleep, @plutocoeurwrites, @somuchtowrite, @pens-swords-stuff

My Questions for y’all!

1. What book has most inspired you to write? (could also be a tv show, podcast, song, whatever!)

2. What do you like to listen to while you write?

3. Favorite genre to read and/or write?

4. What are five aesthetic things for your WIP? (sounds, smells, feelings, colors, whatever floats your boat)

5. How did you come up with the idea for your WIP?

6. What initially inspired the creation of your MC(s)?

7. Do any of your characters have pets? If so, what are they?

8. Are there any tropes that you absolutely despise?

9. What are the main themes of your WIP?

10. What motivates your antagonist (or if it’s man vs nature, how did your protag get stuck in their sticky sitch)?

11. If your MC were to buy ice cream, what flavor would they get? (I had to finish it off with a fun one)

[formosusiniquis]

grasslandgirl replied to your post “So I had like half an idea for a new eldonado au which is to say I...”

ooof I LOVE this!! Is this a full magic au (as in, peter and everyone else has magic/are witches too) or is Sam just a Special Protagonist w powers?? Does peter know that sams a witch in either version?? oof I just love this idea and there’s so much room to play here! Magic and true love what an ICONIC combo!! Ur mind ��

Without like having plotted any of this at all lol. Like just thinking about it I would say that like other people have powers but it’s more like classic Sabrina the Teenage Witch where it’s like not everyone in the world does just a few people. So like Sam does, his family does, I would say Gabi or Jenna or maybe Gabi and Jenna both do but not Peter. So like a happy medium between full magic and Special Protag.

As far as Peter knowing like depending on the direction the fic took maybe. If they’ve known each other for forever and theyre already best friends then yeah totally and then it’s like the fact that Sam has like fucked this spell up kinda and is just always drawn toward Peter isn’t as weird it’s just more inconvenient and like a little strange but not like something that draws Sams immediate attention that he’s like this. But if Peter is the new kid then he doesn’t for most of the fic i’m thinking (so maybe in that case Peter does also have powers or something) so like Sam  is just suddenly drawn to the cute new kid and he just thinks its cause hes so enigmatic but really its cause magic

but like you said its an au with a lot of room to play with and like without any real plotting and just kinda making stuff up lol its all kinda subject to change depending on how things would actually go when writing. but now that i’ve like written all this out and thought about it... it might have to be something i try to will into existence.

[scifimagpie]

Solidarity and Other Dreams

One of the most subtle and painful things about the internet age - perhaps any age - is finding out that someone you admire has acted in a far less-than-admirable way. Reconciling that with continued affection can be tricky. For example, I've heard some mega-questionable things about Amanda Palmer, wife of Neil Gaiman - who has been thoroughly castigated ad nauseam in public and private. And so it goes for many celebrities and important figures around the general Leftist/leftist/liberal community. You can probably think of someone you like who's done or said something insensitive, ableist, transphobic, racist, homophobic, misogynist, or otherwise disappointing. Someone who didn't take a strong enough stance, or too strong a stance, or said something that made your skin crawl.

Have I been this person? Probably. I try to hunt down and deal with my own mistakes, relying on the trauma-survivor skills of micro-self analysis. I count my sins and errors and mistakes like pre-reformation Scrooge with his money. I do not forget or forgive myself. This is not necessarily a character strength, either, nor something I recommend to others.

And of course, many of us do that with others.

But recently, after ditching a friendship that was bad for me, I went to my "blocked users" list on Facebook and really had a look at this. I remembered most people on it. Some were casually encountered, but some had become friends - who had, at one point or another, said something I really, really didn't like.

And I considered...is it really worth keeping someone blocked if you can't remember the exact nature of their infraction?

What makes someone unsafe?

I've seen my share of panicky, touchy arguments on Facebook, including one where an activist I looked up to accused someone else of "gaslighting" them for having a different opinion about interpretations of a Steven Universe character's race. I've been in those arguments, too. (Not that one in particular, but similar situations.)

Part of the problem for those of us on the left is that calls for solidarity usually result in a backlash of people saying, "we have to work with those we don't like? But that means supporting abusers!" Well - sometimes it doesn't. It's tricky to talk about abuse, because those of us who've survived it in various ways tend to be extremely gun-shy - sometimes excessively or even unhealthily so.

And in the moment, it can be hard to tell if someone's comments about, say, a given woman or actress represent their feelings about All Of Womanity, or anything else.

Do we tolerate mistakes?

This is such a tricky problem. Obviously, as a white woman - even a queer, plump, neurodivergent, partially disabled one - I have a giant swath of privilege that affects how I'm coming at things. I'm cisgender, and I'm white, and even femme - all things that can, in certain circumstances, give me a free pass that would not be afforded to others. Obviously, kyriarchy - hierarchies and power that exist outside of patriarchy - is a thing that exists. Dealing with it sucks. Some people get forgiven for their screw-ups a lot more readily than others, and the people forgiven are usually white. The people who don't get away with things are usually black, or other people of colour; men also tend to get away with more than women. BUT - there are also times when we have to question whether conflicts or errors are as important as the general need to fight for our rights. And perhaps we need to be more honest about how dangerous or not-dangerous specific people are.

As one of my found-family siblings, Iskara, put it,

The left are collectivists and the right are individualists. We know this. But you can't use those traits to compete with others who have the same trait, you're pretty equal. So to establish a hierarchy within their respective groups, they use the opposite approach. The left will attack individuals who are below them to prove that they are the wokest. The right will attack entire groups of people who don't have the right values as individuals. Therefore, the right is willing to unite with people it disagrees with because those disagreements are part of the life of an individualist, but collectively they hate this other group more and they have that in common. Meanwhile the left is trying to figure out which single persons belong in or out of the collective which makes us far more likely to attack our allies over trivial matters, because we consider the purity of the person beside us to be a reflection on our own purity.

The hidden rules

The thing is - and trying to put this politely is difficult - white people who are queer tend to engage in this purity-testing a lot more often than others. Black people and people of colour, and those with multiple intersections of disability, are already used to forgiving others a lot or gritting their teeth and bearing things. As members of a visible majority in North America, we feel confident in our ability to reject others and replace them as need be. We're inherently comfortable, a lot of the time, in the belief that someone else will come around and fill the empty seat, because there are just so many white and queer people. This can be less true for transgender people, but the squabbles I've seen online suggest that the sense of white social complacency is still basically applicable.

This is not to excuse myself. When I was a teenager, and even in my early twenties, it seemed a lot more important to be strict about whom I interacted with, within the left, and how they perceived things. As much as micro-aggressions and macro-aggressions both matter, and as much as both can grind us down - those of us with the emotional resources and privilege to do so need to be aware of our padding. (That's not just a pun on my own weight, but hey! I can't resist a punchline.)

Forgiveness and calling in

Since our family expanded to a third person, our housemate and queer-platonic partner Kit, we've had a lot more small discussions about being offended and annoyed. Honestly, instead of making fights or tension worse, it tends to disperse them. Anyone who lives with someone else will be familiar with the struggle of doing dishes, making food, handling laundry, cleaning the house, dealing with work duties, and arranging transportation. But being clear yet tactful about one's feelings can handle conflict far better, and keep it from becoming "a thing."

The same is true of our long-running D&D group and some of my various friend groups. Learning to filter my communication to people, talk to them after the rush of emotions, and avoiding that ever-so-tempting duel of witticisms that is the Facebook philosophical fight, have all been really good for both myself and the people around me.

Ultimately, we have to ask ourselves - what are we trying to accomplish? If the answer to that is "protection of people's human rights," then the only people really worth kicking out are trans-exclusionary radical feminists (TERFs), sex-work exclusionary radical feminists (SWERFs), and people who have exhibited a pattern of abuse without repentance.

Everyone else? Well, maybe we need to be honest about our hurt feelings, cool off a bit, and try to talk stuff out in private.

Does that mean we need to forgive abusers?

Ooof. Even with a counselling degree and many years of sad-violin life experience, I don't know if I'm equipped to answer this one. Apart from saying, "it's a case-by-case basis, but worry about the people who aren't just rude, but really dangerous," I'm not sure what to recommend.

Maybe we just need to stop sanctifying and demonizing people, and present them - both celebrities and individuals - as complex people with tokens on both the good and bad sides of the scale.

I do think that there are cases where people can reform. I hate to be mealy-mouthed or seem indecisive, but if internal politics were easy to handle, the left wouldn't be falling apart like an improperly-chilled gelatin dessert.

Ultimately, all I can recommend are emotional self-validation, politeness, patience, and forgiveness with each other. We are stronger together, and since we, in multiple countries, have to fight to maintain our very existence, we need to defend each other's existence.

Maybe this means forgiving someone you're still mad at. Maybe this means going to apologize to someone. But with actual far-right activists, neo-nationalists, anti-choice activists, and violent racists and transphobes in the streets, and more active and internationally validated than ever, we simply can't afford the ephemeral and impossible luxury of complete ideological purity.

Does this mean allying with people we disagree with? Well, as long as they're not advocating for killing us...maybe yes. But again, my tired and beleaguered siblings and family, those of us who are white need to do the work on this. Reach out to others. Offer comfort. Give forgiveness - after you're done being mad. Sleep on things.

Nobody else is going to fight for our lives.

***Michelle Browne is a sci fi/fantasy writer. She lives in Lethbridge, AB with her partner-in-crime, housemate, and their cat. Her days revolve around freelance editing, knitting, jewelry, and nightmares, as well as social justice issues. She is currently working on the next books in her series, other people's manuscripts, and drinking as much tea as humanly possible. The mailing list * Books on Amazon * Medium * Twitter * Instagram *  Facebook * Tumblr * Blog

[ithinkilikeit-reactions]

Okay I need your opinion cause this is just driving me crazy so I've seen multiple blogs say Jin's (bts) ideal type is a chubby girl and then other blogs say since "he cares a lot about appearance he likes thinner girls" apparently he has actually said he likes chubby girls but I haven't seen any video or whatever of him saying that and I've been army forever I thought I would know my ult bias by now let me know what you think plz and thank you

ooof. Uhm idk, I feel like appearance wouldn’t matter all too much to Jin. Mainly because he needs someone who has the same emotional views as him and who can support him and in the end it doesn’t matter what that person looks like. 

But I beleive he would want a girl with a little more on her bones, not extremely thin but also not extremely chubby. A happy medium, I guess. 

I hope this is the answer you were looking for, if not I am sorry. 

[llleeerrroooyyy]

friendship bracelet, succulent, luna moth?

Thanks anon!

Friendship bracelet: what does friendship mean to you?

oh boy anon that is a Big question. I think it’s wishing the best for someone, willing the good of the other person. So like my very best friends, I want all the good things in the world for them, ya know? There’s a quote that I can’t remember who said it but it sums up how I feel about my closest friendships. “Your heart and my heart are very old friends” kinda kindred spirits kinda thing like Anne of green gables. I hope this makes sense. Friendship is like My Jam, and I love my friends a lot so it’s hard to put in words ooof

Succulent: what are you looking forward to?

hmmm I’m going to target on Monday which is always a good day, but also new taylor album on Friday 😊

Luna moth: city or country?

Oh I think city! In terms of living, but not like a big city. A medium sized city.

[hannnahlasirena]

i know i said life is a game, and i want to play but fuck chill dude this is kinda scary… naaaah, jayquelen. lol thank you so much for all that is, all that isn’t. i sit here wondering why tho. law of reciprocity? is there something on the way, at, or on the way back from NY that i am supposed to realize? this is too good to be true…Is this what i get for always helping so obliviously? lol. well, whatever it may be, I am supah excited to have it revealed to me. Wow, the only reason i feel fear is because of mostly everyone pointing out that i am coming back alone. That’s it. But in true honesty, my being doesn’t feel that fear of traveling alone thru that medium. i’ve just really got the jitters. ooooooohooohhoooo! Lol. The stillness in which i continue to grow reassures me that all is well. and if i must, to live in the question-that is where the answer lies. Ooof. i"ll meditate tonight before bed. Thanks again. I love you and us and myself so much! Thank u thank u thank u!