#and YOU -points- who i have a bajillion threads with- i need another

[noblehcart]

STARTER CALL: Like the post for a randomized starter of varying length- reply for a specific muse! All muses are open & available! I need to shake things up around here.

[olderthannetfic]

I keep hearing things about Live Journal commenting and like conversations in the comments? and possibly something about profile pictures? I was wondering if your would be wiling to explain any of that or experiences or how it differs from ao3 or something? (I joined fandom in 2018 and am really interested in it's history [guess who just discovered fanlore! hehe])

--

I was never much of a fan of changing icons, but a lot of people would have dozens and dozens and would choose the specific one that made sense with their comment or post. Sometimes, you’d match the fandom/theme/etc., but other times, the choice of icon would kind of color the interpretation of the comment. A lot of them were animated with pithy text that cycled through. Some were more like character portraits, but plenty had a vibe that was a bit more like a reaction gif. So... like... on a comment where you were going “WTF!” at something, you’d pick an icon where your fave was making a WTF face.

Icons are/were also used extensively in journal-based roleplaying, but I don’t have any experience with that.

(Your default icon shows on your actual profile page, but you can select other icons whenever you post a post or comment. I presume this is what people meant by profile pictures.)

LJ had (and Dreamwidth has) decent threaded comments, even if a comment thread is 300 comments long and has a lot of deep subthreads (rather than a top level comment and 299 direct responses). Comments have URLs, and you can go into a thread to just see some part of a subthread, which makes it easy to read even the otherwise horribly indented discussions a bajillion comments in.

This tended to inspire a lot of longform text discussion in a way tumblr supposedly doesn’t. (I mean, there’s always my own tumblr... but in general, no, tumblr is not great for this.) I’d say LJ’s level of back-and-forth in the comments, tl;dr, and pretentious blowhard-ness was about on par with Reddit, another space that prioritizes text and threaded comments.

One thing about LJ comments is that they (originally at least) had titles. So a comment thread on a post would be like “Some quick responses” and another would be like “Thinky thoughts on your third point”. (The late and unlamented “thinky thoughts” was everpresent on LJ.)

Because LJ was so locked down with infinite friends filters and such, you’d often meet other people in the comments of a third party’s post. Not everybody posted anything public, let alone anything you could really interact on, but they might show up in a big discussion elsewhere.

(Basically, on LJ and on DW, you can put different groups in filters and either 1. restrict your post to that group or 2. view a dashboard-like feed of just that group. Very helpful for sorting your friends who post commentary from that bastard you like but who needs to stop spamming a different MCU gif literally every 10 minutes all day every day to the point you can’t find anything else in your feed.)

Some of the same commenting energy exists on AO3, but it depends on the fandom. Have you ever been into a really popular WIP for a big ship where fans of the WIP would chat with each other and speculate about future fic developments or talk about canon in comment threads? The vast majority of AO3 comments are top-level and directed at the author, but you do see this other kind every once in a while. That used to be extremely common on big fics on LJ. (TBH, the main difference on AO3 is that people feel inhibited, not that they can’t still do this LJ-like behavior.)

I didn’t really post fic to LJ, so I was looking at more meta discussions, but there too, it was pretty common for two commenters to start talking to each other rather than the OP.

And yet, at the same time, you were in OP’s space where they could lock everything down if they wanted, not in a reblog situation like tumblr, so there was much more of an awareness of potential moderators. It wasn’t all good: LJ had plenty of cult of nice where people were saccharine in public and salty in friendslocked posts and tons and tons of vagueblogging.

Overall, it did privilege people who spewed out walls-o-text and wanted to discuss everything to death. Getting big for... like... properly tagging other people’s gifsets was not a thing, though there were some big name fic reccers. The focus was much more on people who could produce a lot of their own work and on people who could hold their own in a debate.

Honestly, you could probably go look at astolat’s post where she proposed AO3 and read the comments to get a sense of how people were interacting. I think that one had a lot of top-level comments, but there were probably threads.

[fantastic-bby]

Take Me Home

Pairing: Reader x Wooyoung

Word count: 1.6k

Genre: Angst | Exes to lovers

Summary: Wooyoung sits at a bar, getting drunk while all he wants is for you to take him back home

Warnings: Alcohol consumption | Swearing

A/n: So… I may have listened to Take Me Home about a bajillion times since the album was released and… this happened

P.s I’m reposting this bcs Tumblr’s being homophobic and the tags were scuffed FeelsWeirdMan

Masterlist

Wooyoung hasn’t felt this lonely since right after you left him. The darkness that shrouds his mind is something that has refused to leave him alone for almost the past two years, but it hadn’t been this bad in a while. It’s bad enough that he feels like he struggles to breath as he sits at the bar, a glass of whiskey in one hand and his phone in the other. Wooyoung’s thumb hovers over your contact, his mind battling with his heart as he painfully contemplates calling you.

He’s slightly drunk, it’s obvious that he’s at least tipsy, but he’s still sober enough to know how much he fucking misses you. Wooyoung clenches his jaw, teeth grinding together as he locks his phone and places it down onto the bar; the glass of whiskey making it to his lips as he downs it.

“Another one?” the pink haired bartender questions, an eyebrow raising. Wooyoung gives him a look before pulling a few bills out of his pocket and placing it onto the counter. “This would be your fifth glass of the night, man.”

“I don’t care,” Wooyoung sighs, “just pour me another.” The bartender purses his lips before obliging. Wooyoung isn’t dangerously intoxicated to the point where he would need to get involved, so he serves him.

“You wanna talk about it?” the man asks as he pours the alcohol into the empty glass.

Wooyoung contemplates it. Why would he be telling a complete stranger about why he feels like such a piece of shit? Then again, it’s not like he’s even spoken to anyone about it. He sighs before admitting, “I’m thinking I should call my ex.” The bartender gives him a look as he slides the glass back to him.

“It’s not exactly my business, but how dangerous would that be?”

“Well,” he sighs as he thinks about it, “I would either be getting blocked or slapped in the face.” Wooyoung lets out a bitter chuckle as he swirls the whiskey around in the glass. “I fucked up and now I’m alone. Every time I think about them, I feel like I’m suffocating while I spiral down this never ending hole.”

“Have you spoken to them since the break up?” The bartender asks as he starts wiping down a spot on the counter right beside Wooyoung that was previously occupied by someone else.

He shakes his head, “never mustered up the courage to do so.” He brings the glass to his lips and takes a sip, embracing the burn in his throat because he feels like he deserves it. “I was an asshole. I know I fucked up, but I just want to talk to them at least once more. Just to tell them I’m sorry.” Wooyoung feels like he might have a full on breakdown right in front of the bartender, who he assumes is San because that’s what it says on his name tag. He feels his chest tightening like it usually does whenever he thinks of you. “I just want to take back every shitty thing I did to them. They didn’t deserve any of it.”

“Have they ever tried reaching out?” San further questions, his hand halting for a moment.

“The last time I spoke to them, they looked so… cold towards me. The last time I had actually seen them, it looked like they just wanted to get away from me.” The memory is fresh in Wooyoung’s mind. You had stood in the apartment you shared, hands clenched into fists as you glared at him and your entire body trembling with rage. He felt like your eyes were the reason he felt so frozen, but he couldn’t cry in front of you no matter how hard the tears were trying to force their way out. Wooyoung realised a little too late that he was hurting you. There was nothing else he could do and staying with you would just destroy you. “I…” Wooyoung trails off when he feels his eyes starting to sting with tears, “I think it’s better that I stay away from them.”

“How long has it been?”

“At this point,” he pauses to look at the date on his phone, “almost two years. It’s almost been two years and all I can do is think about them. No matter how many people I sleep with or how many people I try dating, all I can think about is (Y/n).” Wooyoung looks at his phone, still battling the thought of calling you. San watches as Wooyoung slowly starts to space out, only able to wonder just how much regret clouds his mind and heart.

“I think,” San speaks up for a moment, his voice snapping Wooyoung out of his thoughts, “the best thing you should do is stop drinking before you end up doing something you may regret, head on home and get some rest.” The younger man snorts at that.

“I don’t know how I could feel more regret than I already do,” he says as he finishes his glass and slides it towards San. “But I do think I should probably head home. Thanks for the talk.”

“No problem, man. Next time you come here around this time, just ask for San. I’ll serve you.” He gives Wooyoung a smile as he takes the used glass off of the counter. “Have a good night…”

“Wooyoung.”

San nods, “have a good night, Wooyoung.”

“You too, San.” He gives the bartender a half smile as he slides off of the barstool, turning around and freezing in his tracks. Wooyoung’s eyes widen when they meet yours and you’re staring at him with the same amount of disbelief. “(Y-Y/n). What are you doing here?”

“I…” you trail off as your mind registers the fact that Wooyoung’s standing right in front of you, “I just wanted to get a drink.”

“Long day?” Wooyoung questions, his voice cracking and making it more awkward than it already is.

You make a mental note of his voice crack and nod. “I got off work a while ago and I—uhh—didn’t feel like going home just yet.” Home. Home is you, Wooyoung thinks but he shoves the thought down with the rest of his feelings. You’re right in front of him. Where’s the apology that’s replayed in his head over and over again for the past year?

“(Y/n), can—could we talk for a bit?” he musters out. “I-It’s been a while. Maybe we could catch up?” Wooyoung wants you to accept his offer so badly. Even if he gets just a few moments, just a few minutes, it’ll be enough.

“I don’t know, Woo…” you trail off when the memory of your last meeting flashes across your mind.

“Please?” If his words aren’t enough, it’s his eyes that do it for you. They look so empty, so desperate,

So lonely.

“Okay.” You take a deep breath as you nod, fearing whatever would come next.

“I want,” Wooyoung gulps. Why is this so difficult?! “I want to say that I’m sorry.” His words come out slowly, but after they’re out, he gains more courage. “I want to say that I’m sorry. For everything. I treated you like shit and I know you deserve so much more, but I just wanted to apologise.” You stay quiet, letting his words linger in your mind. Your relationship with Wooyoung was toxic and you would admit that in a heartbeat. But that way he looks at you now, so lost, your heart can’t help but crack at the sight of him. You’ve spent the time away from him healing from the break up, but you wouldn’t deny that you still love him. Wooyoung was—is—everything to you.

“Wooyoung,” your heart aches even more at the way he looks so scared of your answer. “I forgive you.” He lets out a breath that he didn’t realise he was holding, shoulders relaxing slightly. “I don’t think I ever really got rid of you. No matter how many times I’d spring clean my apartment and throw away things that reminded me of you, I think I’m still too in love with you to throw you away.” Wooyoung doesn’t know how to feel. Should he be happy that you’re still in love with him or should he feel terrible that you’ve been hurting this entire time? “And I know that you struggle with things like this—especially talking about feelings—but I hope that we can move on from this feeling okay.”

“Move on?” he speaks before he thinks and immediately regrets it right after. You blink a few times before your lips part in realisation.

“Woo…”

“(Y/n), I love you.” Wooyoung feels every inch of himself starting to break as he takes a few steps closer to you, arms open, body trembling. “I love you so much,” his voice starts breaking when he hesitates to hug you. When you pull him into the hug, whatever wall he’s set up goes crumbling to the ground. “I love you so much. I’ve missed you so much—I’m so sorry. Please give me another chance,” Wooyoung’s words come out jumbled, mumbles of apologies and confessions just pouring out of his mouth like a broken faucet as you hold onto you. You cry when you feel his wet cheek burying against your shoulder. You’ve missed the feeling of him—you’ve missed Wooyoung.

“I’ve missed you too,” you confess as you allow yourself to mold against him. “I love you.”

“Please take me home,” he sobs. “P-Please, (Y/n).”

“I’ll drive you back—”

“No,” Wooyoung cuts you off and you feel his nose nuzzling against your neck. “I-I wanna try again, (Y/n). Give me another chance, please.“ You pull away to look into his glossed over eyes pooled with tears that stream down his face. “Please take me home—home to you. I-I’ll be better. I promise.” You take a deep breath as you thread your hand through his blond streaked hair before nodding.

“Okay.”

[pixelgrotto]

Remixing a tomb plus a highway to hell

Last month I finished DMing Tomb of Annihilation for one of my D&D groups. It’s a campaign that sees heroes adventuring to the land of Chult to stop big bad lich Acererak, who’s made a device known as the Soulmonger that’s emanating a Death Curse and screwing up the world’s resurrection magic. It’s also a spiritual successor to Tomb of Horrors, one of the classic deathtrap dungeons of tabletop RPG history that came about because D&D creator Gary Gygax wanted to screw his players over for opening doors wrong. In short, it’s certainly one of the more memorable adventures for D&D 5e, but the version of Tomb of Annihilation that I ran for my players was actually extremely remixed and hacked apart, as is the case with every official Wizards of the Coast module that I run. 

There were a few reasons for this - my players were coming into this campaign fresh out of Curse of Strahd, and everyone was level 8. One of the players had died early on in Curse of Strahd - in the very first session we played, hilariously enough - and was temporarily sustained by the mists of the Shadowfell only to collapse upon returning to the material plane. With this in mind, I felt that it would be a great twist to have the party venture on a quest of resurrection only to learn that resurrection magic throughout the world had stopped working due to Acererak’s nefarious plans.

Additionally, I wanted to give my players the chance to try out alternate characters if they so desired. In the name of grand ambition, I decided to have my players create two sets of characters, and wove a homebrew story, dubbed “Fiends in Waterdeep,” that would run analogous to and eventually intertwine with Tomb of Annihilation. The first set of characters - consisting of some of the veterans who had survived Curse of Strahd - would investigate the streets of Waterdeep, which was suffering from an invasion of devils and demons that seemed unconnected to Acererark’s dark doings. The second set, consisting of new level 8s, would venture to Chult, the vaguely African-inspired landmass in the south of the Forgotten Realms, to track down the source of the Death Curse. After progressing through seemingly unconnected storylines, at the end of the campaign the disparate plot threads would mesh. The Waterdeep explorers would travel to the Nine Hells only to learn that the fiend invasion was caused by the abduction of the Queen of Hell’s newly born infant - a soul-devouring mass of flesh that could open portals into other worlds with its burps and farts - while the Chult expedition would delve into the jungle to find Acererark, smash the Soulmonger and free the aforementioned child. 

In short, I basically made a complicated D&D adventure even more complicated by layering my own story on top of it and running two campaigns at once. I think I was looking for a challenge, and oh boy, I got one. I probably won’t be undertaking something like this ever again, because it required a lot of planning hurdles on my part. For instance, my players and I usually gamed for about 5-6 hours at most, which meant devoting 2 and a half or 3 hours to both sets of characters. If one battle lasted too long or a social interaction went south, I’d have to adjust this timeframe accordingly, and every DM knows that players will always defy your expectations in one way or another, so there was a lot of improv on the fly to make sure that our sessions stayed well-paced. 

In the name of pacing, I also stripped much of the fat out of Tomb of Annihilation, which is largely composed of a really long hexcrawl. D&D 5e’s hexcrawl exploration and survival rules have never been particularly good, in my opinion, and the rules in the book expect you to roll LOTS of random encounters and deal with stuff like inclement weather, mosquito attacks, hunting, getting lost, etc. I incorporated some of this stuff (the hunting, since we had two rangers in the party), but I pre-rolled all of the random encounters and potential locations the party could go ahead of time, getting rid of some of the ones I didn’t like, and largely handwaved stuff like getting hopelessly lost. Reddit explorations have revealed that by far and large, everyone running this campaign does the same thing - particularly for higher level players trying to get through the jungle without feeling like they’re wasting time. (And from my firsthand experience with Out of the Abyss, there’s nothing worse than going through multiple D&D sessions and feeling like you haven’t accomplished much.)

My approach to streamlining Acererak’s deathtrap lair at the end of the campaign was similar. I skimmed through the entire dungeon with all of its bajillion floors (which could take an average group months to get through) in favor of using the 10 rooms that I liked the most, which was more than enough. Tomb of Annihilation, while probably fairer than Gary Gygax’s Tomb of Horrors, is still in my opinion full of wacky stuff in the final dungeon that just isn’t my cup of tea for D&D, including one trap that can get characters stuck in real-world Victorian London. (Okay, that’s cool on paper, but to actually run it as a DM, especially when your players are in the final hours of their adventure? I’ll pass.)

Additionally, I made Ras Nsi - the warlord-turned-yuan-ti - into more of a developed NPC who was actually willing to help the players slay Acererak. In the book, he’s very much a Darth Maul-type bad guy who looks cool but has a minimum of characterization. This is because Tomb of Annihilation leans into the stereotype that Ras Nsi and the rest of the yuan-ti are all merciless bastards with inscrutable plans, and while this may be fine if you’re familiar with the Conan the Barbarian serpentfolk tropes that inspired the yuan-ti, it’s not great if you’re trying to build a believable world with compelling characters. Much has been written about how Chult stumbles at portraying a fantasy Africa - largely by depicting the characters as foreign saviors and the Chultans as relatively helpless - and while some of this was alleviated in my game by the fact that one player’s character actually was Chultan, I still felt it was necessary to give some of the indigenous races a chance to help undo the curse that, after all, was first and foremost affecting their land.

Switching gears, when it came to the accompanying Fiends in Waterdeep homebrew story, I recycled some material from Waterdeep: Dragon Heist, which I’d previously run for two different groups, and also took inspiration from the Wizards of the Coast module Descent into Avernus. At the time of planning, Descent Into Avernus was the most recent D&D hardcover, and all the reviews I’d read painted it as cool in concept but a major pain in the butt to run in reality. So, I decided to use only the nifty bits - a journey into the first layer of the Nine Hells via Mad Max-style tanks powered by souls - and mixed it with my own tale that was influenced by a profile of Fury, the dragon queen of hell, that I’d read in the third-party 5e supplement Legendary Dragons. It turned into a mildly amusing story about Fury warring against her ex-husband Asmodeus, and the players ended up serving as therapists in what amounted to an interplanar lover’s spat. I’d recently started therapy when I came up with the campaign concept, so this is probably one of those unique instances where real life truly influenced art. And hey, the unpredictable whims of all-powerful, world-shaping deities make for great adventure hooks, and judging by how Greek mythology seems to have re-entered the modern zeitgeist these days (I’m thinking about Hades, one of the most popular indie rougelikes out there, as well as that Netflix series Blood of Zeus) it seems like I was on the nose!

In the end, this two-tiered campaign lasted roughly 70 hours and climaxed with all sets of characters reaching level 10. Acererark’s Soulmonger was smashed, the feud between Fury and Asmodeus smoothed over, and after enduring the eerie mists of the Shadowfell, the hot temperatures of Chult and the flames of Avernus, the story of these motley players - who’d started questing with me back in 2018, and endured a move to online games in the era of COVID - came to a gentle end. I’m a believer in the reality that campaigns don’t necessarily need to last forever, and with real life throwing some of my players (and myself) a few recent curveballs, this seemed like a solid finale point. A consistent campaign running over two years is in many ways a dream for a lot of D&D players and DMs, and I’m glad I got the chance to make it happen.

[nellie-elizabeth]

Elementary: Their Last Bow (7x13)

Oh my goodness what the heck I'm crying! That was so lovely!

Cons:

It sure would have been cool to get Natalie Dormer back as Jamie Moriarty, but I understand why they couldn't. A part of me wishes that a bit less of this episode had been focused on her, because it kind of set up expectations that she might make an appearance after all. Next to the looming specter of Jamie Moriarty, the random NSA guy just didn't pack much of a punch.

I absolutely loath the narrative device of showing a coffin and trying to fake out the audience as to who has died. They've done it on Arrow, they've done it on pretty much every procedural show I've ever watched... I'm sick of it. This one was particularly annoying because it dragged on for a while, with Sherlock and McNally talking about a nameless "she" who had died. Obviously we're supposed to think it's Joan, but it turns out it's Jamie Moriarty in the end. Sigh. This was obvious and they dragged it out way too long.

Pros:

But whatever! This episode was so soft and lovely! My favorite thing about Elementary for all of these years has been how down-to-earth it is. We don't need to have insane drama at the last minute. We need a quiet story about relationships and love. That is exactly what we were gifted here at the end, and I adored every second of it. I'm a little unsure where to even start, actually.

The idea of doing a flash-forward in a finale episode is always slightly risky, but in this case I think it worked really well. We want to know how these people's lives are going to continue. We want to see their futures play out for us, or at least a little section of them.

Bell becomes Captain! And gets married and has a kid! I'm proud of him, and I love that Joan tells him (and Gregson) that Sherlock is alive. I get that Sherlock wants to protect people, but Joan was right to put them out of their misery. Bell's reaction to seeing Sherlock is to punch him, and honestly... right on. I like that Bell is hurt, but that he's still ultimately Joan's biggest supporter, and you know that he and Sherlock can patch things up.

Gregson is retired now, and Paige has passed away. He spends time with his remaining family and seems to be enjoying his retirement. He gets one of the best lines in the episode, when he wonders why Sherlock is leaving again. After all, there's only one person in the world that Sherlock truly loves, and she's in New York. That is just such a gut-punch and I love that Gregson is there to offer that perspective. He also betrays Joan's trust by telling Sherlock about her cancer, but under the circumstances, I'm not mad at him for that.

And let's talk about the creme de la creme - the reason I watched this show for seven seasons. Sherlock and Joan's relationship. I've never seen a show pull off a relationship like this. I trusted and believed that they'd never go the romance route with them, but there was always that fear in the back of my mind that they'd pull a Mulder and Scully or follow the precedent of pretty much every similar show on the air. When you have a man and woman team up to solve crimes, they're supposed to fall in love at some point, apparently. But Joan and Sherlock... they do love each other. They are family in every way. But they're not in a romantic or sexual relationship. They never were, and they were never going to be. I love it! I'm so excited! Last season gave us this understated sendoff for the characters that worked beautifully as a final episode to celebrate their partnership. This season managed to give another understated sendoff, one that I liked perhaps even more, because Gregson and Bell also got a chance for beautiful final moments.

Joan goes through with adopting a child, which I was really pleased about. I always loved the potential of that plot thread, and while it was mostly dropped from the show, it comes back here in the perfect way. Her son, named Arthur (ostensibly as a tribute to Arthur Conan Doyle), is just the cutest little guy. And Sherlock is in awe of him. He's so complimentary and so honored to meet him, and keeping Arthur safe is a big part of the reason he stayed away from New York. It might not be a totally logical impulse - after all, if Sherlock has enemies, it wouldn't be difficult for those enemies to find out about his relationships in New York. Joan and Arthur might have been targets no matter what. But the instinct is also really sweet, and selfless. We learn that Sherlock relapsed during his time away, and he's especially afraid of being a part of Arthur's life if there's the risk he might not be able to stay sober. I bet Sherlock is an amazing caregiver to little Arthur. We don't know if he becomes something like a father to the child or not, but knowing that he's with Joan, that their partnership remains, and that Arthur gets to grow up with Sherlock Holmes in his life, is warming my heart to no end.

We now need to talk about The Scene. You know the one I'm talking about. Sherlock learns what's going on with Joan, learns that she has cancer. He comes to her, horrified at the thought that she was going to let him leave and go back to his work around the world, without even telling him about it. Joan gets upset too, saying that she plans on beating this thing, that she didn't want him to feel like he had to stay... and then Sherlock hugs her, and says of course he's staying. The acting in this scene from both of them was beautiful. Sherlock was getting so choked up. He was so scared for Joan, and so upset at the thought that she would have kept this from him. See how it feels, Sherlock? Yeesh. In any case, of course Sherlock will stay with her. We even get that affirmation in the final scene of the episode, when Sherlock says that nothing else matters as long as they're together.

I want to talk about my favorite little detail from that last scene, actually. Obviously Sherlock's last words on the show being about his partnership with Joan, and how much he values it, is pure excellence. But it's earlier, on the elevator, that I think their relationship is demonstrated at its finest. Joan asks what Sherlock thinks of her wig, they banter about that for a moment, and then Sherlock asks Joan if she has the note from her doctor declaring her "cancer free." When Joan says she doesn't have it, and that Bell isn't likely to need an actual doctor's note to give her the job back, Sherlock replies that it doesn't matter, he has a copy of it in his email inbox.

It's just that little thing, right there. Joan forwarding the results of her doctor's tests to Sherlock, and Sherlock keeping it. Over the years, I've always complimented this show on the way it sweats the details. The little things, the proof of domesticity and partnership, that pervades their relationship. I love that even in this final scene, that dynamic was what was at play. Simply beautiful.

For this finale, I give a score of:

9/10

For the show as a whole... gosh. You know, in so many ways this show is just a procedural, and while there have been plenty of similar shows over the years that I've enjoyed in various degrees, this particular genre of TV show is not really my thing. In fact, I don't think I'll ever start another show like this again, unless there's something truly exceptional about it. I could do without the bajillion case-of-the-week plots. I'm never all that intrigued by the murder mysteries, the gathering clues, the capturing of criminals. But the core of this show was something more beautiful than I know how to describe. Just the joy of having a truly platonic love story between a man and a woman, the pleasure of watching them build a life and a relationship together over so many years, made this show one of my favorites to watch each week. I have to mark it down for the fact that most of its run-time was eaten up by procedural cop stories, and that's just not what I watched it for. But the rest of it was so good that I can't exactly give this show a negative rating. Over-all, Elementary gets...

8/10

[earth-to-dude]

the various flavors of tripp

various career headcanons, verses & au’s for tripp! a.k.a. what does this guy even ACTUALLY do?

{ ooc // there's absolutely no information or real clues on what tripp does for a living. flypaper takes course over a single evening, and it never comes up. it's seriously never mentioned once in the entire movie what he might do to make an earning. no comments about jobs. 

so, what do i personally think my anxious and autistic son might do for money? because of some quotes and habits that were stated, what sort of careers might he actually have or end up with in my writing? hell, what sort of jobs would he pick up afterwards? well, i got your answers here.

threads tend to go into an unspecified main verse where i just kind of go with whatever works in the moment, but feel free to request a specific flavor tripp from the menu below.

STRONGEST CONTENDERS FOR JOBS:

✖ ||: ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛʀᴜsᴛ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛʀᴇᴇᴛ ( police informant verse. ) — tripp is the eyes and ears of the city always finding himself in shitty situations to figure things out for cops, though withholding information and misleading them as he sees fit. you know, I really like this one. it keeps the crime / comedy times rolling. always getting into trouble, this man. i like to think of him a bit like a crime billboard, or a criminal guide for people. if you need to know where to find someone or something, tripp could probably get you where you need to go. likely not his job, but a great one to write in to continue the same theme, setting and mood of the film regarding him getting swept up in crime as an anxious, obsessive and observant civilian.

✖ ||: ɪs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄʜɪʟᴇ? ( travelogue writer & photographer verse. ) — with a sharp and keen eye, never wanting to stay in one place and winding up in locations he never thought he would be in, tripp's made a decent living as a freelancer for travel blogs and magazines writing about local life. it's the most domestic and normal career of his I like. just a small point & snap and his trusted laptop to work on his own schedule and go wherever he wants. the freedom is important to him.

✖ ||: ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ғᴏʀᴇɪɢɴ ʙᴀɴᴅᴡɪᴅᴛʜ ɪɴᴛᴇʀғᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇ ( technology / repair / engineering verse. ) — tripp is known to steal everything to take it all apart. the clicker, the gun, the detonators. if it has moving parts and he can pry it open, he's going to. i have headcanons that as a kid he would often be found beside a completely gutted appliance, be it a radio, a remote, a phone, to try figure out how it works and put it back together again (and his dad being pissed when he couldn't). another more normal and domestic career for him to have would be in the stem career clusters. i even think he would be really, really good at like, repairing watches and radios for people for cash. pretty lowkey, on his own. i think it probably makes the most sense. while writing this, I found additional evidence that this may be the case, as tripp says later on in the movie, “each [ fax ] has a blemish that appears every 3.2 inches. it is made when the printing drum has a scratch on it.” i think it’s very likely that tripp is a sort of a freelance repairman.

GAMBLING / HIGH STAKES VERSE:

✖ ||: ɪ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴏᴋ?! ( high stakes gambling verse. ) —  tripp is really, really good at counting cards and statistics and probabilities. ' what amazing luck! ' they say. only, the casinos don't quite believe that anymore. he’s cheated too many people out of their money. another crime / comedy verse to keep the fun times rolling. funny enough flypaper was produced by the same people who made 'the hangover' so you know that kind of a verse isn't that big of a stretch for my crime comedy boy. get into some always sometimes monsters feels in here. wanted for cheating people out of money, being chased, but a living the high life kind of mischievous tripp. 

A PERSONAL FAVORITE VERSE / AU:

✖ ||: ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ᴍᴀɴ ( detective / private investigator verse. ) — tripp managed to find himself a job on the police force or as an investigator for private citizens. he's sent all the cold cases to pour over and question and run on long goose chases to follow minuscule leads. he's sort of human resources worst nightmare, internal affairs has about a field day every other week with some shit he does, but no one else wastes their career on desperately and frantically plugging after decades old cases no one believes will be solved. he keeps himself generally busy and away from other "real" officers doing their jobs, but solving case after case people had given up on gives him enough leeway.

MOVIE SPOILERS & DIVERGENCES:

✖ ||: ᴡᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴄᴏɴ ( bank robber verse. ) — post-flypaper. tripp is a bank robber and con artist with, or without, his new partner from flypaper after it concludes ( this one includes spoilers in the writing, if you don't want spoilers, go rent Flypaper and then come back! ). He's not a fan of killing at all. Not that he minds it. Because he will kill if he has to. He just really rather wouldn't.  

✖ ||: ɪᴛ ᴅᴏᴇsɴ'ᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀʟ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀᴍɪɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴋɪʀᴛ sᴡᴇᴇᴛɪᴇ ( divergent dark tripp / vicellous drum. ) a verse where the scene that really ended up making or breaking the movie for me turns out to BREAK IT instead of MAKE IT. tripp is actually the number one criminal on the fbi's most wanted list leaving behind a trail of bodies. he makes himself unknown and plays the part of smart and trustworthy hostage to the people being held captive and pretends to solve the chaos he originally insured in order to

DRUG & CRIME AU:

✖ ||: sᴛʀᴇᴇᴛ ᴏʀ ᴘʀᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ? ( a drug au. ) — you need some kind of medications, tripp is your guy. not much else to be said here, but I do like to sometimes imagine his growly "never trust anything from the street." quote as being from personal experience and his strife with other dealers. my tripp, regardless of verse, takes a lot of medications, he overuses them to the point of toxicity and chemical dependencies as part of his obsessive tendencies bc no med actually gets taken every hour for psych symptoms like in the movie, esp. not depakene like tripp says he needs hourly. anyhow, for this verse, tripp can always get his hands on scripts and sell them out. adderall, xanex, percocet. you name it, he can probably get his hands on it for money by rotating a bajillion doctors and pharmacies. i also wouldn’t exactly put it past his characterization to stretch things a little and throw him in as a supplier. awkward, shifting, anxious boy in charge of a drug lab would be rather fun in my opinion. he probably also steals stuff and sells it tbh. just an au i enjoy thinking about from time to time that could be fun.

[thisisatester]

Common Application (Personal Statement):

The common app I wrote for Stanford was very personal so I’m choosing not to share it… BUT, I’m going to include the common app I sent to a bunch of ivies and other schools –

Some students have a background, identity, interest, or talent that is so meaningful they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.

Every Sunday morning, I pull up last week’s This American Life podcast on my phone, lace up my running shoes, and begin my trek up Lone Mountain – a heap of dirt, gravel, and rock, sitting isolated amidst suburban wasteland. Reaching the top, I stare out at a lackluster view of Las Vegas’ silhouette, barely distinguishable through the dust and smog shifting with the desert breeze. I look down at the 600ft drop briefly, turn around, and begin my trip back home – only to repeat the same journey next Sunday.

There is no breathtaking view or unique wildlife to draw me to my hike: it is the piercing cold air and aggressive terrain that instead excites my core. My Sunday morning hike is a series of struggles: my lungs clambering for oxygen, heart tirelessly pumping blood, and muscles straining to keep up with my pace, but I embrace the struggle. I find my own form of truth and contentment along the uphill journey.

It’s my belief that just barely finding the will to take the next step, and then suddenly discovering yourself unable to resist taking another, is among the most unique and surreal experiences a person can have. While my body teeters at the edge of complete collapse, I feel the most alive. The feeling must be akin to what drove Amelia Earhart to new skies aboard the Friendship, or Philippe Petit to the top of the twin towers. It is the challenges – the pain, sweat, and long nights – that inspire those who push the envelope to never slow down. This love for challenges accompanied Earhart to her death, led Petit to bullfighting and carpentry in lieu of fading in his old age, and I to early morning hikes instead of sleeping in.

“Each atom of that stone,

each mineral flake of that night filled mountain,

in itself forms a world.

The struggle itself toward heights is enough to fill a man’s heart.

One must imagine Sisyphus happy.”

~Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus

Like Albert Camus, I imagine Sisyphus – condemned to roll a rock up a mountain, only to have it roll back down every time he reaches the top – happy. It is the challenges, struggles, and tribulations that energize Sisyphus and my spirit, not the prospects of reaching the top of the hill.

Sisyphus found happiness and the meaning of life in pushing that rock. The meaning of life is simply living it. I live through my hikes, experiencing what life has to offer through getting up each morning and seeking out new challenges. It is where I am happiest, listening to Ira Glass tell me new stories of people I’ve never met, and their own quests for happiness, while I venture out on my own. My hikes remind me that the simple opportunity to take small steps, to look adversity in the eye and to conquer it little by little, is what I value.

I believe that life is a perpetual climb, but that does not make me feel hopeless. I am content in knowing that I am like Sisyphus, constantly climbing. In this intrinsically meaningless desert I will create and learn, continue to push this boulder of existence, of life, not because I will reach the top and be done, but because it is in living and understanding suffering in the hardest of times, in my daily struggle to comprehend just how absurd everything is, that I experience the most full and beautiful of life that our human condition can offer. The absurdity of our condition inspires me to make my own meaning of it all – to study life, history, and our place in it.

That is why I trudge on – learning, growing, and creating, focusing on the next step and never the last.

Short Takes:

Favorite books, authors, films, and/or artists

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov (Book) – objective beauty, a love letter to the English Language 2. Bossypants by Tina Fey (Book) – my woman crush

Seven Psychopaths (Film) – what a trip!

Quentin Tarantino (Filmmaker) – artist, genius, mastermind…

Aaron Draplin (Graphic Designer) – a passionate eccentric

Newspapers, magazines, websites

Smashing Magazine – just great

PBS Idea Channel – is it how fast he talks or …?

reddit.com – lol

Most significant challenge society faces

I’ve seen my parents crash at the end of the week from being overworked. Society encourages this. America is overwhelmingly prone to depression and exhaustion, and that’s because we’ve put work over family, friends, and happiness, which is extremely unhealthy. We need to go back to finding a balance.

Last two summers

– burnt at the beach

– learned how to skate

– experienced summer!

Historical moment or event

The time Teddy Roosevelt got shot in the chest. The whole story sounds ridiculous – almost to the point that I don’t believe it. I’d want to experience it all – the shock, panic, and confusion – and when he still delivered his speech despite the bullet hole in his suit.

What five words best describe you?

Stressed and messy but fun

Intellectual Vitality (Idea or experience important to intellectual development):

My closet could be its own exhibit, boasting pieces dating back decades even centuries. Each new addition is evidence of a vibrant past, history substantialized through WWII patriotism in utilitarian-chic padded shoulders or 70’s liberation in soft cascading fringe.

When I started to make my own clothes, I saw how fashion also bridged the gap between my analytical and creative sides. Designs in my journal played with elements of geometry. I documented the way natural-fibers fared better than synthetic-fibers in heat and used chemistry to explain why organza curled at the mercy of a flame. Despite my analytical approach I let my imagination wander, embracing spontaneity and gripping my pencil loosely as ideas flowed onto paper. Like the corpus callosum I studied in biology, fashion connected both sides of me. It’s movement, design, and architecture all in one. It shows the world who I am and what inspires me.

My family thinks I’m shallow for loving clothing, but actually, my clothes have sparked my curiosity in history, culture, and design. Fashion is what holds everything together, with its ability to communicate ideas and movements, and to carry history in its threads. Learning the meaning behind each fabric, shape, or button, is exciting to me. More importantly, creating my own clothes has given me a love for combining all of what I know to create something exciting and brand new, energizing my love for learning and showing me that my education culminates in all of my pursuits.

Roommate Essay (Note to future roommate):

I’d text but I misplaced my phone… yes, again.

I left you a breakfast sandwich straight from The CoHo – for dealing with my mom’s insistence on taking a bajillion photos with her daughter’s “roomie” when she visited. Still getting to know you so I guessed your order, but who doesn’t love breakfast sandwiches? It might still be hot!

Anyways, have you heard of Cath in College? When I first watched her videos showing all the fun she has with friends at Stanford, I fell in love, promising I’d do the same. I love making videos – and as my roommate you just landed a lead role! Before you run to Ms. Nunan’s office for a roommate change – hear me out. Everyone knows Stanford is a great school and blahblahblah, but they never see what makes it so special. They don’t hear our conversations, hike the dish, or bike across campus at midnight. They see our team on the field but don’t stand in a crowd cheering alongside us. I know our room will be the room for pizza and video games, hangouts, or movie nights – let’s share our Stanford with the world.

It’s only been a few weeks but I can tell the next year with you will be a lot of fun (I say we seek out whatever upperclassmen paired us together, personally thanking them with my homemade cookies.)

I hope you love the idea as much as I do.  (Also, if you see my phone, let me know.)

– Ty

What matters to you, and why?

It hurt that she didn’t remember me.

I could tell you every detail about my grandmother – from the peculiar way she dices mangoes to the smell of jasmine on her clothes. As her memory of me faded, my feeble attempts to reconnect fell flat. I shut her out completely: silence prevented the wound from festering.

As a young girl, my grandma turned to art when she first came to America. When I could first hold a pencil, she bought me a journal with a note on the back.

“When I couldn’t find the words, I’d draw”

Sitting in front of her, silent, I couldn’t find the words. Every page in my journal became a vessel for my most precious memories with my grandma: us walking the boardwalk or her chasing me down a park slide. When I showed her the drawings, I saw her brows furrow in recollection as she traced the graphite lines. For a moment, she was mine again. Art communicated what words couldn’t.

The choice between acrylic and oil highlights versatility, stippling graphite teaches me patience, and splashing watercolor pigment across paper makes me embrace my mistakes, but that is not why art matters to me. It matters because when I draw for my grandma, I am reminded that art can break barriers. When she whispers my name and shakes my arm, I prove that art is a language we can all speak.