#I didn’t want to tag this in redacted since I would just be a hypocrite at that point! XD

[spookybeandoodle]

I can’t really watch the cutie vids (but I do know what happens because of tumblr and stuff) because they give me anxiety but also the absolute hate on cutie is so vile. Because it’s not just a “eh I don’t really vibe with this character” dislike, it’s more of a “this person doesn’t deserve happiness. They will NEVER change. And I hope they suffer” type of hate. It’s honestly scary.

Old habits are so hard to break from and I honestly think Cutie suffered from that. I have old habits that till this day I am trying to break. And what’s worse sometimes I may actually fall back into those old habits after not doing it for years. Cutie gives of very insecure vibes and taking a peek into their partner’s mind is probably how they safely secure themselves that they are okay in the relationship. Is it right? No it’s not. But that’s how they used it and now they have to learn to undo that. But these things aren’t fixed in a day. That’s why Geordi took A BREAK not a breakup to give them some time to work on themselves. To see if they could put in the effort to change because people deserve change. The chance to fix their mistakes.

Relationships are hard, they’re complicated, and so are people.

People are flawed. I’m flawed. You are flawed.

Sorry I just keep seeing it and I’m not even following the redacted tags anymore so that should be saying something. But at the same time I could just look away too so it’s still my fault honestly. I’m not a writer, not a great thinker, and I’m a bit of a dummy so I’m sorry if this is kind of stinky and not well thought out! XD but I honestly hope some of you guys rethink your hate towards cutie and learn to have patience. And if you don’t or still hate them then hey that’s your opinion. At the end of the day, it’s still up to you on where you stand.

And to all the people who say they see cutie in themselves, please do not be hard on yourself. You aren’t unsalvageable, you can change and I know it’s a lot harder said then done but I believe in you. Take small steps. Not everyday do you need to show progress. Do it at your own pace. You are still worthy of love.

[kd-holloman]

First Line Tag Game!

I was tagged by the wonderful @writingamongther0ses! Thank you so much! As much as I’d love to use my first lines from Oh, Hell, they aren’t that great. So, I’m going to give the first lines of The Traveler’s Gift!

Chapter One:

Jerry Reubinault knew he was going to die.

Chapter Two:

A dizzying array of colors flashed behind his eyes as his head hit the pavement. The sharp sting of asphalt cut through the muted sensation of his limbs as his elbow scraped across the ground.

Chapter Three:

Louis had been in the twenty-first century for six days and he liked Rodney. No matter how bad things got, he always looked at the bright side of things. If it was raining he’d look up at the sky and say, “We could be baking in the sun.” If they were hungry he’d say, “That hunger means we’re still alive.” If someone shouted obscene things at them through their car window he would say, “Sometimes people need to vent.”

Chapter Four:

The first thing Louis learned about the man running the O’Shea mafia was that his parents must have hated him. His honest-to-God name was Rick O’Shea. The second thing he discovered was that Rick had inherited his father’s reign at a fairly young age.

Chapter Five:

Louis tossed what little remained of his cigarette to the glass and pebble strewn pavement. It bounced, sparked, and rolled to a stop. He couldn’t sit beneath the overpass, breathing in the stink of exhaust fumes for another minute. “I’ll be back in the morning, Rodney.”

Chapter Six: 

Louis couldn’t tell if he was awake or dreaming. Everything felt far away, but simultaneously too close. If he held his hand up in front of his face he couldn’t tell how far away it was from his nose. His palm was blurry. The lines creasing his skin reminded him of smudged ink on a freshly written letter.

Chapter Seven:

Drip, 347. Drip 348. Drip 349.

Chapter Eight:

“What do you say?”

Chapter Nine:

Louis paced his cell. He had no way to entertain himself. So, he spent his time wandering around aimlessly from corner to corner. He was growing frustrated.

Chapter Ten:

Hours passed. At least, it felt like hours. It had to have been hours because Louis’s head no longer felt like it was full of wet cement and he could slog his way from one end of the room to the other without tripping over his damned feet.

Chapter Eleven:

For the first time since his arrival to the twenty-first century, Louis finally had the chance to experience it without being hurt, drugged, or homeless. It gave him the opportunity to explore the era the way he wanted. He got to try technology he’d never dreamed of. Things had changed dramatically in the past ninety-something years. The way people talked, listened to stories, and enjoyed music had all changed. He was just now becoming familiar with the technology and trying it out for himself.

Chapter Twelve:

“My, oh, my. Don’t you clean up nice.”

Chapter Thirteen:

Louis liked a lot of things. For instance, he liked strawberry jam on his toast, he liked to watch people, and he liked that he had hundreds of options for television at his disposal. He also hated a lot of things. He hated menthol cigarettes, raw onion, and listening to some palooka talk himself up when he was really full of shit.

Chapter Fourteen:

The blood on the plastic was so thick and dark it seemed black.

Chapter Fifteen:

Almost a week after [Redacted]’s death, Louis sat at the table and played solitaire. It was a game that required just enough thought that it kept him from hearing the horrible wet sound as [Redacted]’s heart had been ripped from his chest.

Chapter Sixteen:

The precinct smelled of old coffee and body odor.

Chapter Seventeen:

The benefit for the police department was a formal affair. It consisted of wrinkle-free navy tablecloths, white-linen napkins, crystal long-stemmed glasses, and some of the city’s wealthiest people pretending to get along for just a few hours as they shamelessly donated obscene amounts of money to the cause.

Chapter Eighteen:

By the time Louis had cleaned up Slater’s mess, both he and Ardford were long gone. He asked the bartender where he’d gone and he’d been pointed in the direction of a side door not too far from the bar.

Chapter Nineteen:

Slater stood in front of Louis. “If you didn’t have bad luck, you wouldn’t have any at all. What happened?”

Chapter Twenty

Louis went straight to his bedroom when he got home. He didn’t think he could stand the metallic stink on his clothes for another minute. He stripped out of his shirt. The blood splattered down its front had dried a burgundy-brown color.

Chapter Twenty-One

“You’re kind of a hypocrite, y’ know that?” Louis asked. He juggled bags of Thai takeout while Damien was slurping from a box of noodles as they walked. “You’re always talking about eating healthy and cooking at home, but you’re the first person to suggest eating pizza, tacos, or whatever this stuff is.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

The act of spying was to observe furtively.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The following afternoon Louis sat elbow-to-elbow with Slater and Damien at Rick’s dining room table.  The conversation was a murmur. There was too much underlying tension for it to grow and swell. It felt like the dry, burning, heat of summer being cut with the sharp chilling breeze of a cold front before a nasty storm. Nobody knew why they’d been called together, but Louis had a good feeling that it had to do with [Redacted]’s betrayal.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Louis had never been one for waiting. He had never wanted to wait for his punishments as a kid. He had always wanted them to be over as quickly as possible. He hadn’t wanted to wait for Christmas because excitement had him eager to tear into the brown wrapping on his gifts as soon as possible. He’d hated patrolling the trenches in France because he had known an attack was coming, but had hated holding his breath, waiting for it to come.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Have I ever told you that you’re annoying?” Slater asked. It was the night of the Quench delivery and he seemed unconcerned as he sat on a crate. He kicked the wood beneath him with the heels of his red and white Chucks.

Chapter Twenty-Six:

The dark silence of the night pressed heavily around him. The flickering of the votive and tea light candles were the only source of light in the church. It made the shadows seem darker, more ominous, alive. They made the watchful eye of Christ behind the pulpit seem even more damning.

Chapter Twenty-Seven:

[Redacted]’s parents held a quiet funeral for their son a few days after his death; at least, that was what Louis had been told. He hadn’t attended. None of them had.

Chapter Twenty-Eight:

“I’m out of coffee and this is stupid,” Slater complained. “This is bitch work. I don’t do bitch work.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine:

The next night, Louis found himself standing across the street from Tito’s Pizza.

Chapter Thirty:

  Louis’s head was throbbing to each knock on the door. He groaned and threw an arm over his eyes. Pain jolted him awake as his arm touched the bruised and tender flesh of his swollen eye. He swore and sat up.

Chapter Thirty-One:

Louis wasn’t a fan of spiders. They had too many legs, too many eyes, and moved too damned fast. He hated them when they touched him and hated it even more when he found them in the shower.

Chapter Thirty-Two:

“What did you mean when you said Rick had fooled you before?” Louis asked. He checked his gun to make sure it was full of rounds and made sure he had enough spare ammunition in his pocket. He knew Deuce wouldn’t be stupid enough to do a job empty-handed. Especially, knowing that Rick was looking for him.

Chapter Thirty-Three:

“Louis? Wake up.” Clammy fingers pressed against his cheek.

Chapter Thirty-Four:

Louis’s life was spinning out of control again. He was lost. Knowing that Slater was in the bowels of the hospital while he was confined to the waiting room felt wrong. And there was nothing he could do to change it.

Chapter Thirty-Five:

All it took was a jump a few blocks from the apartment building and a quick check of the junk mail in the mailboxes on the front of the duplex porch to figure out which one belonged to Wes the Weasel.

Chapter Thirty-Six:

Louis didn’t have anywhere else to go. So, after Slater was settled into his room at the hospital, he curled up in one of the chairs in the corner of the room and let himself fall asleep.

Chapter Thirty-Seven:

That night, when the nursing staff told Louis visiting hours were over, Slater insisted that he stay.

Sorry for the long read! I’d like to tag (with no pressure): @howdy-writes, @littlerothridinghood, @gloriafrimpong, @gwens-fiction, @goblingraveyard, @vivian-is-writing