#another white-haired non-binary protagonist of mine

[sammyshuno]

Meet Lottie! 🧋

Her name is inspired by Sophie's sister from Howl's Moving Castle. Their dream is to move out to the country in Ravenwood, start growing their own produce, and open a bistro!

I've been having a ton of fun playing with her and using minimal custom content. Will probably continue posting their adventures while I clean out my main mods folder. ☕️

[benevolentbirdgal]

“Thirteen″ Tips for Writing About Synagogues / Jewish Writing Advice / Advice for Visiting Synagogues

So your story includes a Jew (or two) and you’ve a got a scene in a synagogue. Maybe there’s a bar mitzvah, maybe your gentile protagonist is visiting their partner’s synagogue. Maybe there’s a wedding or a community meeting being held there. For whatever reason, you want a scene in a shul. I’m here as your friendly (virtual) neighborhood Jewish professional to help you not sound like a gentile who thinks a synagogue is just a church with a Star of David instead of a cross. 

Quick note: The are lots of synagogues around the world, with different specific cultural, local, and denominational practices. The Jewish community is made up of roughly 14 million people worldwide with all sorts of backgrounds, practices, life circumstances, and beliefs. I’m just one American Jew, but I’ve had exposure to Jewishness in many forms after living in 3.5 states (at several different population densities/layouts), attending Jewish day school and youth groups, doing Jewish college stuff, and landing a job at a Jewish non-profit. I’m speaking specifically in an American or Americanish context, though some of this will apply elsewhere as well. I’m also writing from the view of Before Times when gatherings and food and human contact was okay.

Bear in mind as well, in this discussion, the sliding scale of traditional observance to secular/liberal observance in modern denominations: Ultraorthodox (strict tradition), Modern Orthodox (Jewish law matters but we live in a modern world), Conservative (no relation to conservative politics, brands itself middle ground Judaism), Reconstructionist (start with Jewish law and then drop/add bits to choose your own adventure), and Reform (true build your own adventure, start at basically zero and incorporate only as you actively choose).

Synagogue = shul = temple. Mikvah (ritual bath) is its own thing and usually not attached to the shul. Jewish cemeteries are also typically nowhere near the shul, because dead bodies are considered impure.   

A Bar/Bat/Bnai Mitzvah is the Jewish coming of age ceremony. Bar (“son”) for boys at 13+, Bat (“daughter”) at 12+, and Bnai (“children”) for multiples (i.e. twins/triplets/siblings) or non-binary kids (although the use of the phrase “Bnai Mitzvah” this way is pretty new). 12/13 is the minimum, 12-14 the norm but very Reform will sometimes allow 11 and anybody above 12/13 can have theirs. Probably a dedicated post for another time. Generally, however, the following will happen: the kid will lead some parts of services, read from and/or carry the Torah, and make a couple of speeches. 

Attire: think Sunday Best (in this case Saturday), not come as you are. Even at very liberal reconstructionist/reform synagogues you wouldn’t show up in jeans and a t-shirt or work overalls. Unless they are seriously disconnected from their culture, your Jewish character is not coming to Saturday morning services in sneakers and jeans (their gentile guest, however, might come too casual and that’d be awkward).  1a. The more traditional the denomination, the more modest the attire. Outside of orthodoxy woman may wear pants, but dresses/skirts are more common. Tights for anything above knee common for Conservative/Reform/Recon, common for even below knee for orthodox shuls. Men will typically be wearing suits or close to it, except in very Reform spaces.  1b. Really, think business casual or nice dinner is the level of dressiness here for regular services. Some minor holidays or smaller events more casual is fine. Social events and classes casual is fine too.  1c. Even in reform synagogues, modesty is a thing. Get to the knee or close to it. No shoulders (this an obsession in many Jewish religious spaces for whatever reason), midriffs, or excessive cleavage (as I imagine to be the norm in most houses of worship). 

Gendered clothing:  3a. Men and boys wear kippahs (alt kippot, yarmulkes) in synagogues, regardless of whether they’re Jewish or not out of respect to the space. Outside of Jewish spaces it’s saying “I’m a Jew” but inside of Jewish spaces it’s saying “I’m a Jew or a gentile dude who respects the Jewish space.”  Outside of very Reform shuls, it’s a major faux pass to be a dude not wearing one.  3b. There are little buckets of loaner kippahs if you don’t bring your own and commemorative kippahs are given away at events (bar mitzvah, weddings). Your Jewish dude character not bringing or grabbing one is basically shouting “I’m new here.”  3c. Women are permitted to wear kippahs, but the adoption of a the traditionally masculine accessory will likely be interpreted by other Jews as LGBTQ+ presentation, intense feminism, and/or intense but nontraditional devoutness. Nobody will clutch their pearls (outside of ultraorthodoxy) but your character is sending a message.  3d. Tefillin are leather boxes and wrappings with prayers inside them that some Jewish men wrap around their arms (no under bar mitzvah or gentiles). Like with the kippah, a woman doing this is sending a message of feminism and/or nontraditional religious fervor.  3e. Additionally, prayer shawls, known as tallit, are encouraged/lightly expected of Jewish males (over 13) but not as much as Kippahs are. It is more common to have a personal set of tallit than tefillin. Blue and white is traditional, but they come in all sorts of fun colors and patterns now. Mine is purple and pink. It is much more common for women to have tallit and carries much fewer implications about their relationship to Judaism than wearing a kippah does.  3f. Married woman usually cover their hair in synagogues. Orthodox women will have wigs or full hair covers, but most Jewish woman will put a token scarf or doily on their head in the synagogue that doesn’t actually cover their hair. The shul will also have a doily loaner bucket. 

Jewish services are long (like 3-4 hours on a Saturday morning), but most people don’t get there until about the 1-1.5 hour mark. Your disconnected Jewish character or their gentile partner might not know that though. 

Although an active and traditional synagogue will have brief prayers three times every day, Torah services thrice a week, holiday programming, and weekly Friday night and Saturday morning services, the latter is the thing your Jewish character is most likely attending on the reg. A typical Saturday morning service will start with Shacharit (morning prayers) at 8:30-9, your genre savvy not-rabbi not-Bnai mitzvah kid Jewish character will get there around 9:30-10:15. 10:15-10:30 is the Torah service, which is followed by additional prayers. Depending on the day of the Jewish year (holidays, first day of new month, special shabbats), they’ll be done by 12:30 or 1 p.m. Usually.  After that is the oneg, a communal meal. Onegs start with wine and challah, and commence with a full meal. No waiting 4-8 hours to have a covered-dish supper after services. The oneg, outside of very, very, very Reform spaces will be kosher meat or kosher dairy. 

To conduct certain prayers (including the mourner’s prayers and the Torah service) you need a Minyan, which at least 10 Jewish “adults” must be present, defined as post Bar/Bat/Bnai Mitzvah. In Conservative/Reform/Recon, men and women are counted equally. In Ultraorthodox women are not counted. In Modern Orthodox it depends on the congregation, and some congregations will hold women’s-only services as well with at least ten “adult” Jewish women present.

In Conservative and Orthodox shuls, very little English is used outside of speeches and sermons. Prayers are in Hebrew, which many Jews can read the script of but not understand. Transliterations are also a thing.  In Reform synagogues, there’s heavy reliance on the lingua franca (usually English in American congregations). Reconstructionist really varies, but is generally more Hebrew-based than Reform. 

We’re a very inquisitive people. If your character is new to the synagogue, there will be lots of questions at the post-services oneg (meal, typically brunch/lunch). Are you new in town? Have you been here before? Where did you come from? Are you related to my friend from there? How was parking? Do you know my cousin? Are you single? What is your mother’s name? What do you think of the oneg - was there enough cream cheese? What summer camp did you go to? Can you read Hebrew? Have you joined?  A disconnected Jew or gentile might find it overwhelming, but many connected Jews who are used to it would be like “home sweet chaos” because it’s OUR chaos. 

In Orthodox synagogues, men and women have separate seating sections. There may be a balcony or back section, or there may be a divider known as a mechitzah in the middle. Children under 12/13 are permitted on either side, but over 12/13 folks have to stay one section or the other. Yes, this is a problem/challenge for trans and nonbinary Jews.  Mechitzahs are not a thing outside of orthodoxy. Some older Conservative synagogues will have women’s sections, but no longer expect or enforce this arrangement.   

Money. Is. Not. Handled. On. Shabbat. Or. Holidays. Especially. Not. In. The. Synagogue. Seriously, nothing says “goy writing Jews” more than a collection plate in shul. No money plate, no checks being passed around, even over calls for money (as opposed to just talking about all the great stuff they do and upcoming projects) are tacky and forbidden on Shabbat. Synagogues rely on donations and dues, and will solicit from members, but don’t outright request money on holidays and Shabbat. 

Outside of Reform and very nontraditional Conservative spaces, no instruments on Shabbat or holidays. No clapping either. Same goes for phones, cameras, and other electronics outside of microphones (which aren’t permitted in Orthodox services either).  11a. In the now-times an increasing number of shuls have set up cameras ahead of time pre-programmed to record, so they don’t have to actively “make fire” which is “work” (this is the relevant commandment/mitzvah) on Shabbat, so services can be live-streamed. 11b. After someone has completed an honor (reading from the Torah, carrying the Torah, opening the ark, etc), the appropriate response is a handshake after and the words “Yasher Koach” (again, Before-Times).

Jewish services involve a lot of movement. Get up, sit down. Look behind you, look in front of you. Twist left, twist right. A disconnected Jew or gentile visitor would be best off just trying to follow along with what an exchange student we had once termed “Jewish choreography.” Some prayers are standing prayers (if able), some are sitting prayers. It’s just how it is, although a handful of prayers have variations on who stands. 

[dreaming-jun-chu]

Rock and Riot review

 Warning: This post is very long! I will have a typed up summary/shorter version come very soon.

Ah, the 1950s in the United States. 

Milkshakes!

Carhops!

Poodle skirts!

Racism.

Segregation.

Civil Rights Movement.

Homophobia and Transphobia.

These are the reality to that time period. As much as people want to erase the “sucky” parts, that’s the reality of it and it shaped how we view ourselves as queer people of color.

That’s where Rock and Riot comes in. And let me say: It’s not good.

Rock and Riot is an LGBT comic about queer kids and kids of color in the 1950s finding love. The comic prides itself on it’s diversity to not only race but to sexuality and gender. To queer white kids, it’s extremely diverse and “progressive”. To queer people of color like me, it’s really offensive and just plain jarring.

Going chapter by chapter, I will tell everything wrong with not only the chapter but for the overall story.

Chapter 1

It starts off with the main protagonist, Connie, riding up with her school gang The Jacquettes. While traveling down the hallway, she notices this blonde hair and blue eyed girl named Carla and instantly falls for her. Connie then goes through the “i’m gonna impress her” motions of flexing her muscles, smoking to seem cool and driving her car in donuts before finally speaking to her.

Let’s pause that for a second.

Connie is African-American/Black while Connie is White. During the 1950s, you’d be hard pressed to find a Black person really speaking to a White person if it wasn’t during a musical scene or at the Black person’s job. 

If this town is based in the Northern to Midwestern United States; while there wasn’t Jim Crow like in the South, Whites and Blacks (and by extension, anyone who was of Color) were segregated by tradition.

And the interracial relationships during that time; they got ALOT of shit for it. 

Chapter 2

So, the second chapter deals with Connie and Frankie, the leader of the rival school gang, the Rollers, get into an argument over...something, it wasn’t memorable. Frankie’s a sexist pig, Connie’s upset and they roll into the water and mess up their hair.

Pausing again.

If we wanna be realistic: Frankie would probably be aggressively misogynoirist against Connie. Sexism for White women is not the same as sexism for Black women. If you want to keep sexism, don’t treat it as if the sexism white women face is universally the same for all women. 

He implied that Connie isn’t tough enough to wear a jacket. 

If this was toward a White woman, this line would make sense. White women are always seen as too weak, too small and not tough enough.

On the flip coin, Black women are treated as the opposite. Black women are seen as too manly, too tough, and too emasculating to even be around. That a Black woman’s “masculinity” is too much for a White man.

Yeah, it’s a small comment but even a small comment like that really puts in perspective that the author didn’t do any research. Especially in the 1950s.

There’s other comments Frankie prolly would say but I’ll leave that to your imagination. 

Chapter 3

So the next chapter deals with Connie and Carla’s first date. They’re at a drive-in movie. So Carla asks if it’s normal for couples to go there and hook up. Connie falls over herself trying to say that they dont have to hook up and carla kisses Connie on the cheek.

In the next few pages, we see Clyde and Eugene (members of the Rollers) getting nervous about being alone together. Of course, they show signs of liking each other before Frankie comes up and honks their horn. The other two members of the Rollers went to Clyde’s house and his sister told them he was on a date. Edd asks if a girl bailed on Clyde and that’s why he’s hanging with Eugene.

Pausing once again.

On a story point of view, this scene is awkward. Why would Frankie and Edd disrupt Clyde’s date? The scene is supposed to be funny but it comes off as awkward. Unless it was actual important business regarding their school gang, there’s no reason for them to barge in. I don’t care if that’s the type of people they are: they aren’t about to be my friends if they pull a stunt like that on me. This chapter was poorly written.

Chapter 4

Hope everyone’s ready for the next chapter cause here’s where “trans-friendly” writing rears its ugly head.

So the next day at school, there’s a new kid named Ace. Connie and Frankie want Ace as part of their gang. if you don’t mind, i’d like to insert what Ace looks like here

So Connie and Frankie try and recruit Ace into their gang with no success until the two leaders begin to argue with one another in front of Ace. Ace asks why the leaders want Ace so bad. While Connie and Frankie yell their crap, Ace dismisses both of them and leaves.

Rolly, a “sweet’ member of the Jacquettes, comes and talks to Ace. They have a talk and Rolly explains how she was once part of the Rollers and Connie's gang accepted her in. So Ace says that neither of the gang is right for Ace and that Ace has a gang already.

Pausing again.

There’s a reason why I avoided pronouns for Ace intentionally for the summary of this chapter. Ace is supposed to be non-binary and uses They/Them pronouns. This wouldn’t be a problem...If Ace told them. A friend of mine actually asked “why are they using They/them pronouns for this trans man?”

When i told him that Ace is supposed to be non-binary, he was a bit...miffed to say the least. Because it doesn’t make sense for these characters to know Ace’s pronouns without knowing or even asking. I’d actually like it better had Connie said “She” and Frankie say “He”; because the scene where Ace gets angry and doesn’t want to be part of either gang would make more sense. And Ace revealing to Rolly that they don’t see themselves in either gang feel more natural.

But because Frankie and Connie immediately used they/them pronouns, it’s feels forced. As if the author is afraid of showing transphobia. In the 1950s.

Concerning Rolly; she is out, wearing dresses and uses She/Her pronouns. Pre-HRT. And passes.

I can’t speak for trans women so I won’t say much about Rolly other than, the fact she passes, out and no one gives a second glance is concerning.

But, i can talk about Ace. To give you a bit of a perspective, i am Bigender. I use He/Him and She/Her pronouns. I don’t pass nor am I androgynous. Nor do i want to. 

Ace being androgynous is a major trope of NB trans folks and if you havent heard: WE ARE TIRED OF THAT BULL. Some of us are still NB and don’t pass. While the other members of Ace’s gang don’t pass: Ace is front and center. Ace is the face of the gang and the face we see first before the other three.

Every trans person that appears in this comic either passes or everyone instantly knows the pronouns said trans person uses.

Chapter 5

So the next chapter is fairly unmemorable. Connie’s gang notices that connie’s been acting strange and believe she’s dating a boy.

PAUSE.

The author doesn’t seem to to know whether her world has transphobia/homophobia/racism or not and it’s overall confusing. Why wouldn’t Connie’s gang accept her being a lesbian? 

I barely remember what happened with Clyde and Eugene in this chapter so...I can’t really comment on this one. It’s unmemorable.

Chapter 6

Do you remember the paragraph above mentioning whether the author not know whether she wanted racism in her world or not? Here’s where everything starts going down the drain.

So Connie goes to the diner where Carla works. Because they don’t get to be together often, Carla suggests they go to a little dance hall to be together and hang out when she gets off. 

So when they go to the Dance hall, the bouncer says Carla can go in but Connie can’t. That because they’re under new management, they can’t let Connie in because of complaints.

Connie, surprisingly, acts a bit realistic here and suggests they just go. Carla gets angry and yells at the bouncer and says she’ll reveal that he’s been having little dates with the librarian and possibly would tell his wife before saying “let’s take our business else where.”

They go to a little lake and comment how no one will judge them there and they have their little date.

PAUSE.

Let’s go back to the author for a second. On her Rock and Riot tumblr, she said that this comic is supposed to be the 1950s without the “suck’ as she says it. Which means, there’s supposed to be no homophobia. There’s supposed to be no Transphobia. And certainly, there’s supposed to be no Racism. But Sexism for Whites TM is okey-dokey.

Please decide whether you want Racism or not in this comic. Personally, i don’t like that you nixed it just because you wanted a “happy” comic when the 1950s was a turning point and led into alot of revolutions and movements.

This incident pops up and then disappears. It’s barely mentioned again or at all. 

Chapter 7

Another unmemorable chapter, sadly. It’s supposed to be how Rolly came to join the jacquettes. I can’t say much on it because it’s unmemorable and just a rip from “Look at me, i’m Sandra Dee” from Grease.

Chapter 8

I’m gonna admit, i had to read back over this cause I remembered only bits and pieces. This chapter deals with Connie catching Clyde and Eugene making out in the classroom when everyone’s gone. 

The chapter ends with Clyde and Eugene trying to cover up their making out as Clyde does push ups.

It was quite a bland chapter at an attempt at creating drama. Which, I could realistically see Connie catching Eugene and Clyde making out behind the school.

Chapter 9

So Carla, Connie, Clyde and Eugene are at Suzy’s diner. Sadly, this chapter was pretty damn unmemorable except for the next part.

Clyde asks how Connie and Carla knew they were different (how they found out they were gay).

Connie said she never liked men. Carla said she doesn’t have a preference.

PAAAAUUUUUSSSSSEEEEE

Connie never liking men is such a horrible stereotypes of Lesbians. She could have said “I felt more comfortable around girls” or even “I tried dating men for a bit but I never really felt a connection”. ANYTHING.

I feel it’s even worse given that she’s a Black Lesbian at that.

So the four of them continue talking UNTIL~

Their respective school gangs show up and catch them “in the act”.

So to cover their asses, Connie and Clyde pretend to date and so does Eugene and Carla.

This doesn’t make sense in a world where homophobia shouldn’t exist. 

So Debby freaks the hell out, Frankie is angry. Debbie tells Connie that she’s not part of the Jacquettes anymore and Frankie is angry.

Pause~

Now, from what i assumed: Connie created the Jacquettes or atleast came up with the idea. Wouldn’t it make more sense for Debby to say that they quit the Jacquettes than severing a tie with connie? When Connie’s the leader?

Chapter 10

This chapter was...not written well, but none of these chapters really were.

So this chapter deals with Ace’s gang, The Bandits. They’re selling answers to quizzes and tests to students. A few students say that their answers are bogus and won’t shop with them again.

So the members go to Ace and they come up with a plan.

Now, this next part is annoying to me because it’s fairly obvious that the author isn’t a Spanish speaker...Nor was this necessary.

So while Ace and the Bandits devise a plan, Ace’s mother comes in and tells them to stay hydrated for stealing tests and Ace responds that they’re writing essays

NOT ONLY THAT, why the fuck would Ace’s mother be okay with them stealing tests? I hope it was a joke. a horribly written joke.

Ace gets the brilliant idea to rewrite the tests.

So Ace and the bandits break into the school (again, apparently) and rewrite the tests and answers. 

James Bond/Mission Impossible reference noted.

So the next day, the school kids all get their tests...And apparently, the teachers nor the entire school does an investigation on why one of the choices on the tests is “What is your gender?”

If Ace and the Bandits are supposed to be inclusive; they fall extremely short. I didn’t like this chapter. At all.

Chapter 11

If there was a chapter that the author did that I completely and utterly loathed? It’s this one. And with complete good reason.

So Connie goes to Carla’s house and climbs up Carla’s tree, calling out to her girlfriend and throwing rocks at her window.

PAUSE.

First off: Connie is Black. Second, Connie is Black in the 1950s. ANYONE could tell you that Connie going into (what i will assume) an All White Neighborhood is a death sentence first.

Thirdly: Connie is Black in the 1950s climbing a White person’s house. Neighbors during this time were nosy as fuck. Connie’s Black ass would have been shot out that tree faster than Taylor Swift switches boyfriends.

If Connie wasn’t shot by Carla’s father or Carla’s neighbors, the police would have shot her out that tree,

So Connie goes to Carla (after finding out Carla is on the bottom floor and that she needs to keep the noise down cause Carla’s daddy is home) and they talk. Debby and Triss won’t talk to her but Rolly will. 

Carla asks if she thinks Connie should tell Rolly the truth.

I’ll pause for this one

I would think Rolly of all people would be the only one to know Connie’s a lesbian. Then again, I guess drama to make drama?

So carla suggests that Connie tells them all and Connie is worried they’d see her differently.

I’d like to make a mention that this comic is supposed to be a world where the 1950s had no suck. So it still doesn’t make sense that Connie keeps this to herself...if Homophobia isn’t suppose to exist.

So Connie kisses Carla and tries to make out with her...But Carla says she left her iron on. Connie asks if she ever gets frustrated and Carla says she wants to wait til she’s married.

Connie retorts that them getting married is as likely as a Black President.

P. A. U. S. E.

Aside from Connie climbing up that tree, this line boiled my blood the most. Racism isn’t supposed to be in this world and yet, Connie drops this line?

Yes, in the 1950s and 1960s, White people told Black folks that a Black President was completely unlikely. That Black folks could NEVER be president. 

I’d give this line a pass...If it weren't for the nonsensical hypocrisy of this entire comic. If the 1950s were played straight and correct, this line makes sense. For the world the author established, it makes no sense whatsoever.

So Carla says she never saw the point in physical activities and wants to wait. Connie respects that. Carla’s dad comes in and Connie jumps out the window.

-siiiiigh-

Oh and apparently there’s a scene with Clyde and Eugene. I almost forgot about that part. Wasn’t particularly interesting.

Chapter 12

This was a chapter that really wasnt necessary to begin with so I won’t say much other than, it’s a flashback chapter. It gives insight to how the Rollers and Jacquettes were made but other than that, not necessary.

Chapter 13

This chapter is completely cringe worthy. This chapter doesn’t boil my blood as much as Chapter 11; but it’s cringe-worthy and completely forced.

So Debbie and Frankie get into a fight and they get detention. So instead of just Frankie and Debbie getting detention; both gangs get detention.

This doesn’t make sense as, unless the other members joined in, there’s no reason for the entire gangs to be there in detention. I don’t give two blueberry muffins and a puppy; Guilty by association doesn’t work in public schools...Or private schools. Or any school. 

If only you and another person was caught fighting, only you two get detention.

Anyway, Connie freaks out and Debbie wants to go off on Connie for “dating” Clyde.

Rolly comments that she’d smack both of Frankie and Debbie had she been there. Debbie calls out that Rolly was with that “Ace girl”.

I’m only pausing because I actually appreciate this. That realistically; Debbie doesn’t know Ace’s pronouns and wasn’t told so she’d immediately say “she” or “girl”. I dunno about you all; but I’m for it. 

So Rolly outs Ace as “Non-Binary” without permission...And without Ace being there to ok it. Thanks Rolly.

And so Debbie riles up so much that Connie comes out and says she’s dating Carla.

This is where this entire scene is just forced to high heaven.

This starts a chain of people coming out of the closet about their sexualities. Debbie’s dating Triss and Frankie is dating or atleast pining after Sasha, a jock.

Edd is the oddman out and says he doesn’t like anyone when Rolly asks if anyone else is going to come out.

This chapter was incredibly forced and just bad on all accounts. Outing someone without permission is horrible. It doesn’t matter if that character is trans as well. If Rolly is out, awesome. I don’t know if Ace is out because no one has asked nor have they said they were.

Honestly, this comic was a roller coaster that continued to spiral downward. Personally, i like the art. The art, in my opinion, is the best part of this comic.

The colors are nice and I love the panels. It’s a simplistic style. It’s nothing truly special but I like simplistic cartoony styles. So it’s part of the reason i stuck around was because of the art.

But the story, the premise, all of it...Downright bad if not very offensive. 

So if i could rate ONLY the art: 7 out of 10. There’s a few off model issues here and there but the colors and composition are nice.

The rating of the story: 0 out of 10. It’s incredibly boring, it cant decide whether it wants the phobias and -isms or not, only showing up when it wants to.

[fragmentedimaginationcreator]

He Was a Natural Disaster Trapped in Human Form - Chapter 1/???

This is not happening in the same universe as the Fragmented Imagination but since I’ve decided to give shell at least one character (Protagonist) from this story anyway, I figured that I could use this side of my tumblr as generally posting my stories. (main focus still on fragmented, not to worry)Fragmented News: I’m gonna be posting a slice of Lucas’ life soon too as well as the fixed versions of the Prologue and Chapter 1, as my Beta finally fixed it for me ^^ And after I’ve finished with my current faceup/wig commissions I’ll start writing Chapter 2 for the Fragmented Imagination

Anyway. What is THIS story about?

- - - - - I went out of town to meet a friend. We had not seen each other for a long time and – as a socially impaired piece of shit that I am – I felt extremely nervous to see them again. How come the more time I spend apart from my friends, the harder it gets for me to gather up the courage to see them again? My heart kept racing and I was sure that something weird would happen. Either I would make weird sounds with my mouth (that one could mistake as speech) or I would do something utterly stupid. Maybe I would meet someone new and they would throw my world out of balance. If only I had trusted my gut instinct and believed that it might not be that far-fetched theory, I would have dialed my friend (and actually pressed the ”call” button) and come up with an excuse to move our meeting to another time. If only I had known that I was about to meet the Hurricane that was about to turn my world upside down, I would have turned away, covered my ears, closed my eyes and began shouting until my lungs were sore and no sound was left – anything weird and/or new scared me shitless and I did everything in my power to avoid them. But now that I have met this natural disaster trapped in human form, I would slap my past self in the face if they tried to walk away. I’d rewrite history countless times and I wouldn’t care who I would have to write off or on in to my life if it meant that I’d get to see that person again - even if just to pass by them at the super market. However… It was a chilly afternoon when my buss arrived to the station in this weird town that I had never visited before. My friend had just moved there a month or two ago and had insisted me to come see her new house (I had ”a flu” when her house warming parties were held). My friend, Nelly was her name, was waiting for me in front of the station and waved me happily when she found me stepping out of the buss. We hugged. I was never a fan of hugging - I preferred to keep my personal ”my meter” -space – but I found that it was actually comforting to be hugged by her. We had lived together for 2 years when we were still students so it felt like it had only been yesterday when we spent hours just drinking tea in our kitchen – not 10 years. ”How was the trip? There has been this horrible wind lately and other buss was late for like 30 minutes. So I was a bit worried that something would have happened to you”, Nelly said. She was so talkative. I replied to her with simple ”Uhuh, no, it was all good.” ”So Anon, I hope you don’t mind…” she started. (Shit, I do mind, I hate surprises… Also she must be the only person who still calls me with that nickname) ”One of my friends is staying over at my place – He has had quite a rough year and he is currently homeless so I let him stay at my place…” she looked at me while buckling up her seat belt. She was trying to read my expressions since she knew that I hated people. New people more than anything else. ”I did tell them that you were coming and that you were bad with other people, so just tell me if you’re uncomfortable. We’ve arranged it with my boyfriend so that he can stay at his place if you started feeling… those feelings again…” Ah, but of course… Nelly remembered. I have had my fair share of horrible young adulthood/teenage drama and I even had intensive therapy/medication for that shit – Though I had not been on meds or seen said therapist for a couple of years now. Yet, I still felt uncomfortable around other people, especially with males (funny, since I was a male myself too). Nelly had been the first person I had opened up to. Not that I meant to at the time but since she was there to soothe me when my nightmares were making me insane, she just kinda learned it on her own. ”Then why is he not staying at your boyfriend’s in the first place…?” I muttered without being able to stop myself. I was expecting to hear some sort of explanation. I mean, the guy was homeless -  I was suspicious that he was not completely ”normal” in my books just from that fact. Horribly narrow minded, I know. I lifted my eyes and met my friend’s face. She was smiling with this odd expression that was pretty much the embodiment of ”you’ll see” if I had ever seen one. I was pretty sure she’d also say that out loud but instead she just made a hand gesture, indicating that I should also buckle up mine as she started the engine. It was maybe a 20-ish minute drive when she pulled out to the small yard in the area that looked so old that it was antique (”These houses must cost a fortune to live in”, I thought). ”We’re here!” Nelly exclaimed happily as she took the keys out and outstretched her arms (as much as the small car let her) to make me look at her house. Holy shit. That was amazing house. I had never seen one quite like it before. It was a small (green) dublex with so many details in the windows (white wood with decorative carvings), porch (how many hours had been used just to make that railing?) and steppings (not to mention garden, though it was already beginning to look a bit sad since the cold weather had killed most of the plants already). My jaw must have dropped since Nelly was smiling with even more pleased look on her face. ”My boyfriend’s aunt is living in the other apartment and I get to live here pretty cheap if I help her out with taking care of the building and her – since she is getting quite sick… Oh! But don’t worry! She never comes to my apartment without letting me know in advance! She usually just calls me to come to her side if she needs me!” Nelly said as I was making _the_ face (more people…?). We unloaded the car and I was still awestruck with the amount of wood carving and detailing. Nelly said something like ”Aunt’s grand father was a carpenter and had build this house with his friends and had made sure that the house would be the most beautiful in town” … or something like that. To be honest I didn’t pay much attention since I was in love with the building even without its history. I was actually so fascinated with the building that I had completely forgotten about the person I was about to meet. I didn’t remember or realize it even when I kicked my own shoes away and saw a pair of (filthy) army boots on the clean hallway. (they were so out of place there) ”U came already?” shouted unfamiliar voice from somewhere in the house and I completely froze. (Shit. I was about to meet someone new. Hell to the NO! I’m not ready! Abort Mission! D-A-N-G-E-R-! ABORT MISSION! Abandon the fucking ship!) ”Yeah! Oh! Did you put the meat in the oven when I called?” Nelly shouted back cheerfully, disappearing to the room that was probably kitchen. I was taking off my coat when she came back with a happy expression. She took my luggage and told me to follow her to the guest room. ”We’ll be having some slow-cooked lamb for dinner – I found this awesome recipe for the sauce and I’ve been dying to use it and I just know that you’ll love it!” Nelly had begun to resemble those loving stay at home -wifes with about dozen cats– so she was clearly excited when she got to show off that side of her. As we walked past the room that Nelly had just been to (I was right, it was the kitchen) I saw the back of a man and for a short while, I felt like the world had slowed down so much that it might just as well have stopped. Man had loose jeans which had seen their better day and he had black socks (he was scratching his calf with his other leg) He had dark brown cardigan that was  pretty long and had something that resembled a hood (or just a big collar). He was holding a cup of coffee in his left hand (he had rolled up the sleeves of the cardigan but let the black long sleeves down) and his hair was a mix of natural (ash blonde) dread locks, braids and it seemed like none of that hair was the same length – but somehow it looked utterly cool and stylish the way he had tied it up so carelessly Thumb. I had dropped my bag and didn’t even realize it before the sound but I was not fast enough to react and as the stranger turned around, our eyes met for the first time. He had very captivating eyes and even though some silent voice at the back of my head kept telling me to pick up my bag and run through the front door, I couldn’t turn my eyes away. He had dark green eyes that were framed by long dark lashes, he had thick eyebrows and some beard (or maybe he had not just shaved for a couple of days). He smiled and I saw his lips (pretty narrow) form words. He let his head tilt a little to the left and exposed his neck (so long and more slender that I thought) and he turned around, towards me and started walking closer to me with a bright smile on his face. He had his arm stretched out, waiting to meet mine. Wait… RUN! I woke up from my trance, time started moving again and I crouched a bit to take my bag and stormed away to where Nelly was about to take me. I didn’t look back, didn’t care about the fact that I would see them in a moment again. Okay, I lied, I was scared shitless seeing them again. I was desperately trying to come up with an excuse to leave the house immediately. And I had only been in there for 3-5 minutes. Tops. ”There is towel ready on the table and I’ve changed linens this morning so they are all fresh and ready for you so you don’t need to worry about that! There are also extra pillows in the cabinet so help yourself if you want more. My room right upstairs, first door to the right and -He- is sleeping in the next room! I’ll go to prepare the meal so just make yourself at home,” Nelly kept talking but somehow I had trouble understanding. My heart was still beating so fast. I mumbled and smiled at her and she left the room and closed the door behind her. I stood there for a while, just looking out of the window. Why did the thing just happen? What was that bizarre moment about? It was nothing like I’ve ever experienced before. Freezing on the spot like that and even making an eye contact with a stranger and not even realizing it before they were almost close enough to touch me… But then again, there was something simply mesmerizing about him for sure. He was clearly not like any other person I had ever met before. “That’s bad”, I thought while I began rubbing my arm. I felt bruises forming under my hoodie. Ah… so uhmm… I also have this extremely rare condition called ”Bruising”. It has a long and impossible-to-remember medical name as well as some fancy Latin name but I feel like this street name describes it way better - at least it gives you a good idea what is about to follow. Basically my body is attacking itself. It’s not fatal (well, doctors don’t really know WHAT it is but so far it has not caused any casualties by itself) but it’s more like my body is trying to alarm me about everything. Like normally people with… well for example tenosynovitis, would have to rely to describing their pain to the doctors. My body is showing it physically. I get these bruises and small cuts whenever my body is, in any way, ”ill”. It’s kinda handy, like if I get a food poisoning, I can tell since my stomach starts bleeding a bit. Or if I’m catching a cold, light bruises show up on my throat. And if my body was about to develop a cancer, I’d probably find out about it before the traditional symptoms would starts showing up. Of course, there is always a downside. Like how often adults thought that my parents were abusing me since I was always full of bruises and cuts. And even though I was born with this condition and I’ve always been “hurting”, practically 24/7, it still hurts. (Like I have my better days and then I have my absolute bottoms just like anyone else - some days it’s harder to understand why I must bear with this kind of condition but since in my case it literally makes it worse, I’ve had to learn to look past it). But the worst part is… If I feel emotionally or mentally hurt, it shows on my body as well (usually it shows as bruising in my hands and small cuts, but if I feel hurt enough, it might even show up on my throat or face). I rolled up my sleeve a bit and - sure as hell - a big bruise was forming on my arm. I sighed. I knew that feeling agitated and worrying just made it worse but it’d be hard to hide huge bruise like that for long. And I didn’t really feel like explaining my condition to a complete stranger anyway. I rolled my sleeve back down and decided to keep my hoodie on. Just in case. ”That was pretty rude of you…” said a cold voice from the door. I startled and turned to the source of the voice and I swear that all the color drained from my face as I saw those emerald eyes again. ”I mean, Ya. I get it. U’re shy, but running off like that… Ain’t it a bit much, eh? Not like I’m gonna eat ya up.” said the man while leaning to the door frame. I couldn’t even gather my thoughts and he just scratched the back of his neck. ”I’m coming in, no fainting, ya hear?” RUN! I hesitated and started looking around me, trying to find a magic portal or something like that. Anything that could get me out of the situation. I was trapped. Fuck. He is gonna hurt me!? How dangerous is he!?” ”Oh”, he said and stopped with a surprised expression on his face. He tilted his head a bit and lifted a finger and pointed at my face. ”So you really have it too?” Huh? I felt something dripping on my face and turned to look in the window (there was no mirror in the room) and to my horror, I saw some bleeding above my eyes and huge bruise darkening around the corner of the same eye. By reflex I tried to hide it with my sleeve - of course I knew it at that very moment that it was for vain since he was the one who noticed it first but I felt extremely… confused, to my big surprise. More confused than hurt. ”No point in trying to hide it now, ya know?” The man said with a grin that was kinda hard to interpret. Was he making fun of me? ”Shut up! What would you know…!” I shouted. To my even bigger fucking surprise it actually made his smile turn to a bit kinder, I think. ”Nelly didn’t tell ya?” he said with a cheerful tone. ”And here I thought it was the only reason you wanted to meet my ugly mug!” (He insulted himself yet it sounded like he was actually bragging?) He rolled up his left sleeve and showed how a big portion of his arm had turned blue. ”I get bruised ridiculously easy too…!” … What? - - - To be continued - - -