#Not that I had the bandwidth to write anything for the prompts but it still would've been nice to know about

[amtrak12]

.... There's apparently been a month long Lucifer prompt event that I had no inkling of because it's on Twitter. aka the broken ass site that is unsearchable and way, WAY too public while deteriorating in functionality every single day.

Fandom, what are you doing?

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 6th: Crush | You Could Start A Cult - Niall Horan | Sincere a/n: steddie, pining, post-s4. un-betaed because I’m challenging myself to write these in under an hour. read on ao3 | link to masterpost on ao3

A crush is called a crush for a reason, and Eddie Munson is learning this lesson the hard way. 

The very hard way. 

The Jesus Christ, all he did was laugh at my stupid joke and I’m going to collapse in on myself like a dying star kind of way. 

It’s been nearly a year of this and Eddie feels like he’s being squashed beneath the weight of the giant boulder that is his crush on Steve Harrington. A solid year of his hopeless, pointless, wonderful crush on Steve Harrington. 

Everyone knows– well, everyone above the age of 16 has figured it out at least. Eddie isn’t exactly known for his subtlety, after all. 

Jeff, Gareth, and Freak had their reservations at the start after years of being persecuted by the same genre of person Steve had been in high school but once Eddie spun them the tale of how Steve carried out from beneath the rubble of a collapsed building, they’d come around. Jeff took the longest, finally acquiescing  after properly meeting Steve.

You were always into jocks, dude, c’mon. Sounds like this one might have some redeemable qualities at least. 

He couldn’t quite tell them the actual truth, but it’s truth-adjacent and does the job. It paints Steve as the hero Eddie knows him to be, whether Steve wants to acknowledge the title or not. 

Robin knew before they’d even gone back into the Upside Down, before Eddie nearly died in Dustin’s arms and then again, in Steve’s. 

I was there when you called him Big Boy, Munson. You’re not subtle. He’s just oblivious. 

Nancy figured it out when Eddie was in the hospital, still a little loopy from painkillers and who knows what else. 

You were on another planet and couldn’t stop talking about his chest hair, Eddie. 

Argyle knew on sight the first time he saw Eddie with Steve. It was a little spooky, actually, how on the nose he was about two people he barely knew but on the nose, he was. 

You’re the only one callin’ him Stevie, brochacho. And he’s the only one calling you Ed so… take that for what it’s worth. 

Jonathan knew because Argyle knew and Jonathan and Argyle seem to have something there, too, but that’s none of Eddie’s business. All of the unrequited love bandwidth he has is tied up in Steve, and his smile, and his way with the kids, and his cologne– 

“You got something on your face.” 

Robin nudges him in the side behind the kitchen counter where he’s been leaning, watching helplessly through the kitchen window as Steve grills another round of burgers going for their We Lived And Can’t Tell The Tale Because We All Signed NDAs party starting soon. 

Eddie wipes his face frantically, hoping he didn’t have ketchup or something on his cheek from Steve’s trial run of the burgers. He pulls his hand back to find nothing besides Robin grinning, bemused and pitying all the same when it clicks.

“I’m not actually drooling. Just… metaphorically. God, let me cling to some shred of dignity here.” 

Steve flips another burger, this one landing square right-side-up. Eddie groans, Robin rolls her eyes, and he laments. 

“What the fuck is wrong with me that that’s so hot? He’s not doing anything special! He’s just existing in those too-tight jeans and plain tee shirt and I’m ready to lay waste to the evils of the world to get to him. And they say I’m the cult leader? I’d follow this asshole into the bowels of Hell.” Eddie sighs and drops his head back to stare at the ceiling.

It’s offensive, honestly, the popcorn ceiling and the way it mocks him. 

“I mean, you kinda already did.” Robin shrugs and bumps her shoulder into his, somehow softer than her initial nudge. “And look, it’s not my business, but I think you might be surprised if you talked to him. He’s not the same he was when he said all that shit to Jonathan, y’know.” 

Eddie whips to the side, too quickly as his head spins for a brief moment. He searches her eyes for hints or a glimmer of hope. Something. Anything. 

“What do you know, Buckley?” It’s less a question and more a statement. 

“I don’t know a damn thing, other than a conversation might do you both some good. But look,” Robin sighs and hops up to sit on the island next to Eddie as he turns his attention back to Steve manning the grill. He’s trying not to stare at the way Steve twirls the spatula… and failing, of course. How are his hands so big? 

“Hello? Munson, Earth to heart-eyes over there. This is information you might really want to listen to.” Robin waves a hand in front of his face and he jolts out of his thoughts. It’s for the best– the second he gets lost in Steve’s hands, it’s all over for him. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’m listening.” Eddie responds, vaguely reminded of his many years in school. 

“I was saying, Steve’s a good guy. The best guy, really. And I know he’s acted fine with being single the last year or so, but he’s lonely behind that facade. So if this is just like, a crush that’s gonna pass, keep it to yourself. But if you really like him, if you wanna like, be with him, then yeah. I think you might want to talk to him.” 

Eddie considers his feelings for a long moment, staring back out the window. This time, he watches Steve at the grill and sees so much more than a guy in too-tight jeans and a plain tee shirt flipping burgers. He sees jumping into the lake, rushing through the Upside Down, finding a quiet moment in the chaos traipsing through the Upside Down’s version of the woods. He sees what little he remembers of bleeding out and being carried by Steve through the portal, of waking up in the hospital, handcuffed to the bed and Steve sitting in the corner with Wayne. He sees every fleeting moment, every soft touch, every nickname and split joint and pizza with half pepperoni and half bacon. 

He looks out the window at Steve and sees his life. 

Maybe the weight of his crush has only felt so heavy in the way that holding your arms out for too long begins to feel heavy.  Maybe the forced, sustained tension would be relieved if he just let himself relax. 

“I’m with him already, for better or worse.”

Robin hums in acknowledgement before breaking into laughter as they both watch Steve transfer the burgers to a plate, only to accidentally knock the dish off the side of the grill. He must hear their laughter because his eyes shoot directly to the window and he points the spatula at them, free hand on his hip. “It’s not fucking funny, now I have to go to the store!” 

“It’ll probably be for the worse.” Robin looks at him and raises an eyebrow. 

Eddie just laughs and shakes his head, tendrils of hair falling into his face that he pulls further across his mouth. 

“Worth it.”

[thisapplepielife]

Monthly Word Count Wrap-Up

February 2024

Another month is already gone this year, like, what? How!? 🤯

That said, here's February's breakdown of where I spent my time writing:

I worked on 6 different fics this month, for a total of 24,081 words. My word goal is 500 words per day, and I've continued to hit that mark. Even if on some busy days, I was definitely banging away late at night just to get those words in before bed. 🥴

All Across the Universe (yes, it really did have a title, haha! So does "Steddie Coded" and "...Elvis") took up the biggest chunk for the month, by a long shot. It was my 2023 NaNo fic and I really buckled down this month to get it ready to start posting. Of course, I still like to add and tweak, and I guarantee there'll be more words added to it, even as I say, "I'm done," lol. What I really mean is, I could post this, as is. But, I won't, because I'll keep tinkering around, adding, deleting, changing, until the moment I hit post, lol. That's just the way I roll.

The fact that I added over 19K to it this month, really pushed me into the "it's ready to go" zone, though. I decided to work on it, and did, so I'm pretty happy about that. Even if I did want to spend time on a couple other things. Next. Later. Just wait. One idea at a time, brain, please.

As much as I loved the idea, writing anything for the event for original characters just went nowhere for me. I just didn't have the extra bandwidth, but I would have loved to participate in it, if I'd had the time to pull my shit together. (If you're curious, what I wrote those few words on was a college au meet!cute for Gareth & Di for the introductions prompt. I didn't get far. But I had fun thinking about it for a minute.)

Anyway, I averaged 830.38 words a day this month.

And for the yearly average, I'm now at 946.45 words per day.

What I Posted This Month:

So Here Is Us (For Steddie Micro, T, 509 Words)

All Across the Universe (Chapters 1 & 2, E, 9,287 Words)

[strixcattus]

Conlang Year Days 127–149

Adjectives, negation, and numbers, oh my!

Been a fresh minute (read: twenty days and change) since I've had the bandwidth to type and post a progress report on Conlang, but that doesn't mean I haven't been generally keeping up with the prompts. (It's also completely unrelated to the fact that it still doesn't have a name.) Under the cut as per usual.

(...The previous paragraph is accurate to when I began writing this post. Suffice to say I am now twenty days and change behind the prompts. It's been tough to focus on daily things as of late.)

Days 127–134: Adjectives

Adjectives are relatively simple. Conlang is pretty lax on agreement once you're outside of temporal placement, so adjectives are never modified. They directly follow the nouns they modify, and can stack pretty much indefinitely within a single noun phrase.

La siza minako: A tall person Jia dazeze kejuni minulu: The small, sharp stones

I don't have a whole lot of adjectives created right now. I was a bit strapped for ideas when I was actively doing this, and I haven't yet decided where Conlang is in the development of color words, so future adjectives will probably come out as a trickle. There aren't really any that are interesting enough to spotlight at this point.

Days 136–138: Negation

Negation of nouns works almost identically to the negation of verbs, which was covered in a previous prompt. Verbs are preceded with the word suo to indicate negation (which becomes an affix in the infinitive), and the same goes for nouns.

Suo toujiako. I will not wait. (I plan not to wait) Suo ja juo: Not the sun

While negation of a verb indicates that the action in question does not happen, negation of the noun indicates that the action does happen or may happen, but not involving the thing in question. Double negatives are ungrammatical.

Teigano suo ne jia gate. I did not eat the duck (I ate something else) Suo teigano ne jia gate. I did not eat the duck (I did not eat anything)

Days 139–149: Numbers

...This will probably be the meat of this post.

As I said in a much earlier post, Conlang uses a base-six number system. (It was between that and twelve, for the aesthetic you must understand, and six is easier to keep track of.) The number zuo (zero) takes singular nouns, and its use is the basic way of saying "none" (as seen in the pronouns zuluiza and zuoli, "nobody" and "nothing," which were covered in an earlier prompt).

La zuo tamaku: Zero thorns La lia tamaku: One thorn Ki sei tamakuku: Two thorns Ki kaido tamakuku: Four thorns And so on.

Numbers can exist in isolation ("how many wolves did you see?" "oh I think I saw seven"), in which case they take either the suffix -li or the suffix -(i)za, depending on whether you're counting things or people.

Nesi liali. There is one (thing). Nesui mazuli. There are three (things). Nesi liaza. There is one (person). Nesui desoiza. There are five (people).

Koigano ne ki nocia lozizi. I saw six wolves*.

*at some point I need to come up with ways to properly translate specificity beyond what Conlang's basic words cover. I'm thinking about using noun-noun compounds, but haven't actually cemented any yet.

Past six, compounds originally take the form nocia sie [dinulu] (six and [number]). This pattern stops once you reach the twelves.

Six (10): Nocia Seven (11): Nocia sie lia Nine (13): Nocia sie mazu Twelve (20): Siocia Fourteen (22): Siocia sei Eighteen (30): Muocia Twenty-four (40): Kailocia Thirty (50): Geicia

At thirty-six, sie comes back to intervene between the thirty-sixes and the sixes. At two hundred sixteen, it moves to intervene between the two hundred sixteens and the thirty-sixes, where it then stays. (It does, however, return when it would be used for numbers 7–11.) Past two hundred sixteen, the pattern repeats, counting desilu as English would count "thousand."

36 (100): Salui 37 (101): Salui sie lia 42 (110): Salui sie nocia 43 (111): Salui sie nocia sie lia 59 (135): Salui sie muocia deso 72 (200): Lasui 108 (300): Mazui 144 (400): Kailui 180 (500): Gaolui 216 (1,000): Desilu 288 (1,200): Desilu sie lasui 432 (2,000): Sei desilu 5,184 (40,000): Kailocia desilu 23,328 (300,000): Mazui desilu 35,708 (433,152): Kailui sie muocia mazu desilu sie salui geicia sei

Stars, I hope I'm doing all these base conversions right.

I originally planned to introduce some irregularity (a la French) in the two hundred sixteens, but there's really no elegant way to do something like that in a small base. Maybe in another conlang.

[owl-with-a-pen]

Can you write a fic about when Nia tells Brainy about the nightmare vision she had during Fear Knot? Please <3

Certainly! This one's been on my mind for a while. Thank you for the prompt, I hope you enjoy!

No one had come out of the Phantom Zone unscathed, least of all Kara.

Honestly, though? Nia had been so drained by then that she’d hardly been able to register what was going on around her at all. All she knew was that Kara and her father had been whisked away for sun-lamp treatment the second they’d come aboard, and Nia certainly didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to process that right now, let alone what it meant.

Turned out, Kara’s father wasn’t dead, and as much as Nia wished she could feel happy for her, she barely had the energy to feel anything at all.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d sat with Brainy before the Tower had reclaimed its original perch in National City, long enough that she’d probably cut off the circulation in his hand for how hard she’d been squeezing him.

Brainy didn’t mention it. In fact, he sat at her side just as vacantly, an arm wrapped loosely around her, his fingers catching every so often against odd ends of her hair as they twitched against her back in unmeditated patterns.

He didn’t say anything about the tears staining her cheeks and in turn, Nia didn’t mention how she could feel his pulse threatening to break the speed of light against her palm.

They didn’t say it, because it didn’t need saying. Everyone inside that ship had seen something that day and, considering the dour silence that had permeated the Tower’s console room the whole journey home, it was obvious that no one was ready to talk about it just yet.

Nia only started tuning back in again when she felt Brainy gently tug on her arm, guiding her up off the sofa in the same motion. As J’onn had apparently explained - and Nia clearly hadn’t heard – Kara and her dad would be out of it for a while, which meant there would be plenty of time for welcome back banners once everyone was given the chance to go home and get some rest.

When she and Brainy returned to their apartment that same night, Nia had fully intended on doing just that.

She’d been counting on her bone-dead exhaustion to whisk her away to a far-off darkness way too deep for her dreams to catch her.

Turned out, luck wasn't on her side.

Even safely tucked in her boyfriend’s arms surrounded by the comforting familiarity of her own bedroom, the nightmares still managed to find their way in.

She saw him again. In a warped and fuzzy unreality where only his image appeared crystal clear. His silhouette stood out against the ship’s dark basement; even against the nebulous backdrop of infinite space tearing him away from her, his face was all that Nia could see. The fear in his eyes, the catch of his voice as he’d screamed out that he couldn’t hold on, that he was gonna--

She felt it all again. She saw it all again. Brainy’s fingers loosening on his hold, his very last breath stolen from his lungs as he was flung out into the void, his body disappearing behind a flood of tears as Nia’s heart had shattered into pieces.

The scream that had torn out of her hadn’t been real, and yet when she shot up out of bed the moment her nightmare finally let her go, her throat still burned from it. She clutched weakly at the base of her neck, her pulse roaring in her ears as she scooted over to the edge of the bed in a desperate attempt to collect herself. She slammed a hand over her mouth when the air came flooding back in, forcing a heaving sob through her chest and stomach, harsh enough that she could taste acid on her tongue.

Her efforts to keep quiet were made pretty much redundant when she felt a tentative hand on her shoulder.

“Nia?” Brainy asked, his voice heavy, a clear sign she’d caught him out at a portion of the night he’d actually been sleeping. Considering their rough return from the past, plus their venture through the Phantom Zone with zero reprieve in between, Nia only felt guiltier for waking him now. “Are you alright?”

Wordlessly, Nia shook her head. The burn in her eyes intensified and she blinked hard, twin tears dribbling down her cheeks.

“Was it a vision?” Brainy’s fingers dug searchingly across her back, already marking out the tension she was holding in an attempt to sooth it.

The feel of his touch finally knocked some words loose and she found it in her to answer. “Not exactly,” Nia croaked.

“A nightmare?”

She huffed air out of her nose. “Worse.”

Nia could almost hear Brainy’s thought processes as he considered the information she’d given up. Eventually, he inhaled. “Ah,” he said tightly. “The Phantom’s nightmare vision.”

“It was awful,” Nia admitted, unable to keep the shakiness from her voice a second longer. She shuddered against Brainy’s hand, closing her eyes. “It felt so real.”

“As it did for everyone else,” Brainy said in understanding. She felt his thumb dig into her shoulder, rubbing small reassuring circles against her back, sending pleasant sensations dancing up her spine. “Full sensory immersion would’ve been necessary to ensure that your mind was at no threat of escaping.” His voice softened. “What… what did you see?”

Nia’s lips trembled. “You,” she managed, “I had this…  this vision. I guess it was a vision inside of a vision. Kinda like Inception, but way, way worse.”

“Christopher Nolan, two-thousand and ten.”

A short half-sob-half-laugh caught in her chest, and she smiled through her tears, wiping awkwardly at her face. “Exactly,” she said. “Only… it wasn’t just a vision. It started off that way… I even thought I’d read my dream right, that I could save everyone from the Phantom we had on board. But, it wasn’t the Phantom I should’ve been worried about.” She screwed her eyes shut again, baring her teeth. “I… I saw the hull door blow out on the ship, Brainy, and I thought I knew how to fix it. But, we were too late, I made us too late and then...” She stumbled, choking out. “Then, you-” Nia's voice was almost strangled as she tried to get the words out, but she couldn’t. The dark behind closed eyes might as well have been the void she’d lost him to. She could still hear her own screams of anguish clamouring between her ears, threatening to deafen her.

Brainy’s fingers scratched surface-level lines across her back. “Nia…”

“You died, Brainy,” Nia said hoarsely, her teeth clenched so tightly she thought they might crack. “And-and it was my fault. I-I couldn’t save you. You died because of me, because I couldn’t figure out these stupid powers—”

“Nia,” Brainy repeated firmly, urging her to turn towards him.

When she did, however hesitantly, she was met immediately by her boyfriend’s solemn expression, his eyes wide with understanding. He reached out for her with both hands, wiping the tears from her face with his thumbs. “Nia Nal, your powers are anything but stupid. They are incredible, as are you.” He cupped her face then and Nia leant needily into that small comfort, sucking in a breath. “The Phantom did exactly as it had intended,” Brainy continued gently, “it targeted one of your fears and made it a reality. But it was not real.”

“But, it was right.” Nia smiled her defeat, grasping weakly at her boyfriend’s arm. “Brainy, you said it yourself, it targeted my fear, and that fear is real. Every time I create something new with these powers, I’m never in control of it. It-it just happens. You say I’m making strides, but I have no idea in what direction I’m going. I don’t even know where to start.” She could feel more tears leaking down her face, her chest hitched tightly outside of her control. “I just feel so lost.”

Brainy’s eyes shimmered, his brow furrowing with concern. He opened his arms out to her, wrapping her up in a hug the moment she fell forward against his chest, burying her face into the familiar crook of his throat.

“I can’t lose you,” Nia whispered, fingers digging frantically against his chest, searching out the warm pulse of his life projectors. As she did so, her mom’s voice echoed back inside her head, the few seconds she’d memorised of her voicemail playing on an endless loop. She clutched as closely to that remnant as she did Brainy, gasping out when the heel of her hand caught against his central core. “I can’t lose anyone else that I love.”

She felt Brainy’s lips in her hair, running kisses across her scalp. “It’ll be okay,” he murmured, his breath hot against her forehead.

But, even that wasn’t enough.

As the sobs continued to assault her, Nia knew just as well as Brainy that there was no easy fix to assuage this particular fear.

---

Sleep didn’t come easy to either of them after that.

By the time Nia’s chest had calmed down, she couldn’t even picture trying to go back to bed, no matter how much the fog inside her head told her otherwise.

Brainy had cradled her against him the whole while, murmuring gentle comforts into her ear even as the worst of her sobs had begun to subside.

Despite the dread still clinched deep inside her stomach, Nia couldn’t ignore the tension that ran deep in Brainy’s arms. His shoulders were so rigid with it that her favourite spot felt nearly alien to her. Brainy’s pulse had definitely slowed since the Phantom Zone, but Nia could still hear it, thrumming away at abnormal speeds inside his chest.

Maybe he didn’t want to talk about it either, but as the minutes ticked well beyond the witching hour, Nia knew she couldn’t just sit there and say nothing.

So, she lifted her head carefully from her boyfriend’s throat, peeling her cheek from the fabric of his pyjama shirt in the process. She pursed her lips, keeping her gaze aimed somewhere towards her lap. “What did you see?” she asked.

Expectedly, Brainy froze, his jaw clenching where his chin was still half buried in her hair. His fingers found her back again, knuckles aimlessly scanning for tension as he pointedly ignored his own.

Nia wound her fingers into his shirt, tugging absently. “Brainy?” she prompted.

After a long moment’s consideration, Brainy sighed out his frustration, shaking his head. “A lot of things at first,” he admitted, lifting his face away from hers with a short grimace. “The Phantom tried to find a way in. And in many ways, it certainly found… weak spots.” He cringed. “It tried to pull me into a nightmare vision, and I began to experience flashes of my worst fears. Of-of being too late to save Kara… or succumbing to my mother’s will, bottling my father or… or losing you... in a multitude of terrible ways.” He smiled down at her weakly. “Uh, to name a few.”

Nia swallowed, her eyes searching him out. “Brainy…”

“I did not fall prey to the nightmare in quite the same way,” he added quickly. “I remained in control of myself, and in doing so, the Phantom found a different form of torture to cause mayhem for my waking mind.” He paused suddenly, eyes tracking ahead of himself, a serious furrow creasing his brow. “There were so many balloons…”

Nia frowned, squeezing his shoulder. “Balloons?”

“A poorly disguised metaphor, perhaps.” Brainy shuddered, lowering his head. “That is what J’onn suggested, at least. For, I cannot stand the concept of something so close to the brink of imminent explosion, that the slightest provocation might…” He gritted his teeth, breathing out sharply. “I viewed myself in that sense when I first removed my inhibitors. A part of my father’s mentality I could not shake, the fear that he was right… that maybe I would be worse with my emotional capacity fully restored.”

“That isn’t true,” Nia said immediately. She tucked her hand beneath the hem of Brainy’s shirt, trailing her fingers over his abdomen until she found his life core again.

Brainy grazed his hand appreciatively over hers. “And yet, as you say, it does not make the fear any less real.” He offered her a half smile. “I was able to combat those images with my twelfth level intellect as well as the assistance of Kelly’s grounding techniques, but I do understand. We are both afraid that what we hold within ourselves is too great to control.” His eyes flickered down to their joined hands, illuminated by the stark white of his life projector. “Perhaps,” he mused, “the only way to fight those fears is to remind each other that we do not have to fight them alone.”

Nia smirked. Her stomach was already warming at the thought, loosening the knot that had nearly taken a semi-permanent residency there. “I’d like that.”

Brainy raised his head at that, a sudden confidence brightening his expression. “Then, get some rest,” he said firmly, pressing a kiss against her forehead. “Training will resume tomorrow morning.”

Nia grinned, the tingle of his lips chasing away even the most stubborn of brain fog. She curled appreciatively into her boyfriend’s arms, finally allowing her eyes to flutter shut and for the lull of sleep to pull her under. “Alright,” she said, masking a yawn into Brainy’s shoulder, “but you’re buying the coffees.”

“And breakfast burritos?”

Nia chuckled, nuzzling his throat. “Those too.”

[a-clockwork-justice]

Everything I Love About Loser Geek Whatever

So, not too long ago, it was the third birthday of Loser Geek Whatever. Yes, I know the single was released on November 30th 2018 and its considered the song’s official birthday, but the 26th July three years ago was the first showing of the 2018 Off-Broadway revival of Be More Chill and the first time Loser Geek Whatever was shown to the world in any capacity. Therefore, I consider that day to be the song’s unoffical birthday and I’ve been waiting to write down everything I love about it so here I am. (This was originally gonna be posted on the 26th July but I can’t make anything concise so it took longer than that).

I’ve gone on and on about what Loser Geek Whatever means to me personally, how a slew of random chance introduce me to it, got me deep into Be More Chill, introduced me to 90% of my current friends, and overall up-ended my whole life, but now it’s time to dissect the song itself and why it’s so great. As much as I adore Loser Geek Whatever, it could’ve easily been any other song that threw me down a rabbit hole and that I could’ve latched onto- no, wait, it couldn’t have been, because Loser Geek Whatever is unique in that way. I did about a year of music at A-Level so I’m gonna delve into some of the technical aspects here too. I’m chronicling this mostly for myself so I am going as deep as I see fit because this song is a treasure hiding yet more treasures. If you happen to love Loser Geek Whatever as much as I do, this’ll be your goldmine.

So, grab a snack my fellow fans, because here’s a comprehensive list of everything to love about Loser Geek Whatever in roughly chronological order. Long post incoming:

The song starts off strong from the first millisecond - I don’t know what instrument(s) they used but just listen to the single version again - that opening chord blares at you like a siren. It calls for your attention, screaming this is incredibly important, and indeed it is. That chord, an F chord, has no indication as to whether it’s major or minor - it’s just the tonic F with its dominant C and another tonic F above it. In other words, it’s unresolved, it hangs in the air. From a narrative standpoint, Jeremy is at a crossroads, torn between giving into the SQUIP or staying loyal to Michael, and the music paints this. It has the same effect on both the single and album versions - I always hold my breath as it holds, it’s the gap in this crucial transition for Jeremy between who he was and him becoming something he isn’t.

To continue the thread of musical painting, the melody line contains the accidental E-flat which doesn’t belong to the key of F major. This once again illustrates Jeremy’s uncertainty, but there’s more - the whole introduction is a slowed-down version of the Apocalypse of the Damned theme from Two Player Game, arguably the point in the show when Michael and Jeremy’s relationship was at its strongest. Jeremy’s recalling everything he had with Michael, but the slowing down of the melody shows hesitancy, along with highlighting the accidental E flat. These latter points of course aren’t unique to Loser Geek Whatever - they’re also in the section of Upgrade that twins with Loser Geek Whatever. I’m just laying out why they work so well. 

I’m glad I waited until after I saw the show in London to finish writing this - I’m something of a Loser Geek Whatever purist, as made clear by my ire at them cutting it in half and tacking the end of Upgrade back on for the London version. I still enjoyed the show in London though and I’m glad I knew about this change ahead of time, because they did change something about the song that I think really worked - they added two notes in the bass to each bar, like heartbeats, which once again signifies Jeremy’s uncertancy and the importance of this major turning point.

It’s been firmly established by this point that Jeremy is a loser and he knows it. He doesn’t want to be a hero, he just wants to survive, but there’s a difference between that and feeling “inconsequential.” Jeremy is basically admitting that, in his eyes, it doesn’t matter to the world or anyone except Michael if he even survives or not. He’s not just a loser, or a geek - he’s a whatever, with no one caring who he is. And he’s felt this way for years - since middle school began. He’s now in his Junior year of high school - that’s five years of being in this state of being unnoticed at best and picked on at worst. He’s “the one who’s left out”. With just one little line, hell, one word, we’re given more layers as to why he so badly wants to change that.

Moving from the first verse to the chorus, we start to see Jeremy’s attitude shift, from being sad to being angry - he’s frustrated, resentful that he’s spent so long in this state (A lot of people have made similar comparisons about Will Roland’s Jeremy as a whole in relation to Will Connolly’s Jeremy and I think this song exemplifies that). He doesn’t deserve to feel this horrible - not now and certainly not for the next two years until he and Michael can be “cool in college.” When you think about it, what options does he really have? He could either give into the SQUIP or reject it and go back to where he was, still miserable and lonely. Yes, he has Michael and Michael is an amazing, kind, loyal best friend, but as many have pointed out, he’s also dismissive of Jeremy’s feelings of inadequacy whether he means to be or not, which only made Jeremy feel more lonely. Should Jeremy just expect to feel better about himself at some point before college? He’s waited for years, why would that happen at any other point?

More layers baby! Second verse, Jeremy rants on about his father’s advice about following his own instincts and how it’s gotten him nowhere he wants to be. Come to think of it, Michael’s advice about staying the same and waiting for their environment to change can be seen as similar - it’s arguably easier for Michael as he has two loving mothers who undoutably give him plenty of positive reinforcement. Meanwhile, Jeremy’s mother has left them, which likely instilled further feelings of not being good enough, and his father has fallen apart to the point where he can’t even put pants on, let alone step up to take care of his son, meaning that Jeremy likely isn’t going to take his advice very seriously, especially after it’s failed him so thoroughly. But to Jeremy, the problem isn’t necessarily the advice itself - it’s that it’s being followed by him. So now he’s going to turn around and put his life and every choice in something else’s hands, even if - no, especially if it goes against his own instincts. It still doesn’t feel quite right, it “feels bizarre”, but it’s getting him somewhere, so it has to be right in the most meaningful capacity, and to Jeremy, the “most meaningful capacity” is any capacity that isn’t his own.

Now the best line - the one about being a “normal, handsome guy”. Let’s get this on the table - Jeremy is trans. Will Roland himself said that he often thinks of the show’s young trans fans when he sings that line. Naturally, societal transphobia plus gender dysphoria would have a pretty catestrophic effect on the self-esteem of any growing teenager, even more so one in Jeremy’s situation for the reasons I’ve just laid out. He’s probably missed out on a lot of things that “normal” guys take for granted, with most girls barely looking in his direction, let alone in any positive manner. Jeremy’s own sexuality aside, it’s mostly society, and the SQUIP by extension, that considers scoring with girls to be a “manly” or masculine activity, and through Brooke treating him as dateable material, Jeremy feels better about fitting into society’s rules of how a man should be and act. This isn’t the only reason he feels good about Brooke finding him attractive, of course, but it’s just another layer that Jeremy sees more value in conforming to how society says he should be rather than in how he actually is.

I know I just said that the last point was about the best line, but honestly, there’s more than one best line in this song. The bridge is where we start to see Jeremy’s language becoming more technologically inclined - “prompt”, “command” and “bandwidth” are all terms used in computing and used to show how Jeremy is likening himself, or his intentions, to a computer, effectivly merging himself and his SQUIP into one entity and Jeremy willingly giving over his own individuality.

And HERE, we get to the kicker. I’ve talked a lot about layers throughout this whole essay, about themes and motifs building on each other. Jeremy is essentially peeling back the layers of his own situation and only finding reason after deeper reason after deeper reason as to why he should follow the SQUIP and not be a loser anymore. Now, he hits the core, the seed, the crux of it all - “The problem has ALWAYS BEEN ME!!” Everything he is, everything that makes Jeremy Heere himself, is and has always been wrong. This line is a gut punch and EVERYONE knows it - the performer always takes a few seconds to let it sink in before continuing.

As an aside, I wanna mention the differences between the single and the album versions of the bridge. The album version starts of quieter after the vocalising of the last chorus, and builds up to the climactic final line, while the single version is loud all the way through but gets even louder and punchier at the end. Both are good, but I personally prefer the single version - the album sounds like Jeremy is broken and desperate and on the verge of tears as he reaches his inevitable but ugly realisation. The single is also desperate, but it’s pleading and all-consuming and a THOUSAND times more powerful, I get chills every time I hear it. (Side note, the London version starts of loud like the single and ends quieter like the album, almost as if Jeremy is reluctant to admit what he truly believes about himself, and it’s easy to see why, it’s a damn harsh condemnation).

“Take a breath and get prepared” - Jeremy sings to both himself and the audience. The first half has been heavy and we need a breather. Yet just before he goes over the brink, he has second thoughts. His conscience, his own voice in his head, breaks through, warning him that his choice will have consequences for other people than himself. People will get hurt - Michael most of all. Not just by Jeremy ditching him; here’s something else - when Jeremy is the “cool dude”, he might end up being a bully to those who are losers just like him, cutting them down just as Rich’s SQUIP made Rich do to him. Who would be the perfect target for Jeremy’s potential future bullying? His former best friend and fellow loser, Michael Mell. It’s pretty damn likely that if the SQUIP hadn’t optic nerve blocked Michael, it would’ve told Jeremy to pick on him, and even though Michael has ostensibly been pretty good at brushing these things off before, the takedowns would hurt a LOT more coming from his former best friend - and we know this because IT ACTUALLY HAPPENS, granted without the SQUIP influencing Jeremy directly (also let’s just clear up that just because the SQUIP wasn’t on doesn’t mean its influence on Jeremy hadn’t disappeared - that’s not how emotional abuse works).

Twelve years of loyal friendship, of borderline unhealthy codependency … can he throw all that away for Christine, a girl he’s thus admired from afar and is only just starting to get to know as a person? Moreover, even if Jeremy gets Christine, what about himself, who he wants to be? He just wants to be something other than himself because he thinks that anything is better but … what? The cool dude, the hero or … whatever. He’ll take anything because he’s that desperate, but what about when he gets it? Will he finally be satisfied? Will it be worth failing his one real friend, an act so scummy that the only way he could possibly stomach it would be to somehow pretend he hadn’t done it?

But none of those questions matter to Jeremy now - he’s fully gaslit into believing that every thought and inclination that comes from himself is wrong and shouldn’t be followed. He needs to sync up with the SQUIP and the rest of the world and mute his own defective inner voice. When you think about it, the relationship between Jeremy and the SQUIP is one of the most intense abusive relationships ever put to fiction - we’ve seen emotional abuse and brainwashing before, but here, Jeremy is literally preventing from THINKING the wrong way because the SQUIP can detect his every thought. See what I mean when I say that doesn’t go away when the SQUIP turns off for a few minutes?!

Throughout all of this is the undercurrent of Jeremy wanting to get better. He’s been trying so hard for so long to have a better life, but nothing has worked. Not listening to his dad, not trying to get closer to Christine through theatre, and certainly not listening to Michael’s advice to wait until college. Why should he resign himself to even more time being miserable with no end in sight? After all, being cool in college isn’t a guarantee. After all he’s been through, it’s his turn to finally be cool, after an eternity of being someone he doesn’t want to be.

Another best line in this song - “I’m Player One.” As mentioned a few times in the show before, like in the Broadway upgrade, Jeremy feels lower even in his friendship with Michael - he’s Player 2 as the more experienced Michael is Player 1. As previously established, Jeremy admits that he’s “not the one who the story’s about.” Now he’s ready to finally take control of his life, be the main character and have good things happen to him, and that means cutting out Michael, the old Player 1. The irony here is that Jeremy is less like Player 1 and more like a video game avatar. In reality, the SQUIP is Player 1, making Jeremy do whatever it demands of him.

More best lines! The slew of insults towards the end serves not just as yet more gut punches for the audience but as a major catharsis for Jeremy - It’s telling that the insults get harsher as his rant goes on, from the “weirdo” to the “weakling freak” to the “failure” to the climactic “please don’t speak”. He’s unloading everything that he’s been carrying over the years, ripping out the bullets that have been embedded in his skin and re-opening all the wounds in the process, but he’s done with the pain and he’ll never ever let himself be hurt like that again, if he follows the SQUIP.

I’ve made a whole post about the significance of the best line “Please Don’t Speak” before so I’ll mostly be repeating a lot of what I said there because it’s been a while since that post and because I want to. Who would’ve said that to Jeremy? Probably not Rich or Chloe, it’s not like them. It had to have come from an adult in a position of authority that could’ve commanded Jeremy not to speak like that - one that apparently did so enough times for him to internalise those words like he did the others. (Even worse if it was more than one adult ...). Out of all of the insults, it’s easy to see how that can easily be the most scarring out of all of them - how would an adult let a child know they’re inadequate? By silencing them. Making it clear that their expression of self not only means nothing, but should be forcibly avoided. Put like that, it makes it much easier to see how and why Jeremy fell under the SQUIP’s influence so easily - telling it was hardly different from authority figures he’s experienced before. In even more sad irony, as Jeremy claims that he’s breaking free and letting go of his past as the “please don’t speak”, he’s just walking right into another, similar trap that he can’t easily escape from. The SQUIP literally vocal cord blocks him during The Play - if that doesn’t say “Please don’t speak,” what does?!

The climax is growing! The music shifts into the relative minor as Jeremy fully gives in to the SQUIP’s evil influence. This is the point of no return, the point where he’s literally being surrounded and overtaken - if you’ve seen this on stage or even just a bootleg, you’ll know what I mean, when the lighting shifts and the circuitry start closing in around him, it’s wonderful. The bass ascends, Jeremy declares once and for all that HE IS NOT THE LOSER, THE GEEK, OR WHATEVER, and he never will be again! As some have pointed out, the sequence of notes on the final “again” is the same as at the end of Be More Chill Part 2, except the last note is different. In BMC part 2, it goes further down by a minor third, but in Loser Geek Whatever, it rises up to the same note it started with. This foreshadows Jeremy’s fate - that he will eventually overcome the SQUIP and that he still has it in him to do so. Man, let me just point out how amazing that last belt is - it lasts for a full 15 seconds in a really high range and takes a LOT of control to bring it back up to the high B without breaking. This song really was written for Will Roland - his voice can pull it off seamlessly, but other actors and understudies have had to find workarounds. No disrespect to them, it’s a damn hard song and it kicks ass all the way through. Scott Folan apparently had trouble with it too, but on the day I happened to see him, he pulled it off without breaking, so props to him!

Overall, Loser Geek Whatever is my favourite song in Be More Chill and not just for its sentimental value to myself. It’s a genuinely deep, complex piece that earned every second of its six minutes. Loser Geek Whatever is definitely the missing piece the show needed - not only is it Jeremy’s solo song, it’s also his “I Want” song and, in a way, his 11 o’clock number all in one, as he’s having a major epiphany after going on a journey, albeit only half of one. It’s easy to see why Joe Iconis dubbed this his anti-Defying Gravity, but it’s also easy to draw parallels to No Good Deed - how both Jeremy and Elphaba vow to become something that society is forcing upon them rather than what they are, even if that society’s will is objectively worse for them. Loser Geek Whatever deserves a thousand times the recognition it has and I still wonder to this day what the fandom reaction would’ve been if it had been in the original soundtrack.

So, that was it. I’m not sorry it was this long.

TL;DR: Loser Geek Whatever is wonderful and anyone who doesn’t think so is wrong.

[willowbird]

prompt: aaron had a slight ED that he developed as a kid and is now being noticeable to the rest of the foxes even andrew and nicky kinda knew he forgot to eat but the stress from school and exy makes it worse....

I could easily expand on this and maybe one day I will. It hits kinda close to home tho so I’m going to err on the side of brevity just for my own mental space. Thank you so much for the ask! I hope this is what you’re looking for ❤️ ❤️ Take care of yourselves!

Warnings for depression, eating disorder. 

Edit: this has been expanded and can also be found on my ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Ao3

-----

Wednesday | 6:04am

The alarm was screaming. 

Its cries crashed against his senses like sea-storm waves and Aaron was without shelter. The sound had been crowding him for four minutes now, and he still couldn't lift a hand to make it stop -- even though he was perfectly aware and wide awake. He wanted to stop the sound, he needed the quiet back, but for whatever reason his hand just wouldn't listen to his brain no matter how many times he willed it to move. 

Aaron hated days like this.

Wednesday | 8:43am

Nicky slung his arm around Aaron’s shoulders, a grin plastered on his face. His hair was slicked back like a low-budget greaser, halfway between wet and just damp. They’d just finished morning practice and he, Nicky, and Kevin were waiting out in the player’s lobby for Neil and Andrew to finish showering and changing so they could leave.

“Aw man, I am hungry. Please tell me that Andrew and Neil are gonna finish up soon so that we can go get a real breakfast.” Nicky's whining was easy enough to ignore most of the time, but today Aaron was tired and his patience was thin. He had three tests to study for, two essays to write, they had a game coming up on Friday, and Aaron didn't have the bandwidth for Nicky, too.

He shruged his cousin off with a snort. "I'm just gonna hitch a ride to the library." There were still a few hours before his first class of the day, and he needed to use that time for something productive.

"Aww, c'mon Aaron come to breakfast with us! We'll drop you at the library when we're done. It won't take too long!"

"What won't take too long?" When Aaron looked over, he saw Neil and Andrew coming out of the locker room, clean and changed.

"Breakfast!" Nicky announced. "Neil, tell Aaron to join us! It's a family breakfast -- he should be there!"

"You can't just label things "family" events as a way to require people to be there," Kevin said with a long-suffering sigh. Even so, Aaron noticed he already had the menu of their usual breakfast joint pulled up on his phone. The pictures of pancakes topped with glistening syrup and fluffy omelets made his stomach clench in an unpleasant way.

Aaron looked away.

"I've got a shit to do," he said. That would be his final word on it, and to demonstrate, Aaron turned to head toward the doors.

Except Andrew had moved to block him, though Aaron hadn't registered when his twin had circled them. Aaron frowned, lifting his chin in challenge.

Andrew just studied him for a long moment before looking just past Aaron, gaze darting over his shoulder to the others behind him. He lifted a hand and a second later a slim object snapped into it. When Andrew then held it out to him, Aaron saw it was a granola bar.

A quick glance over his shoulder exposed the granola bar thrower as Kevin, who was zipping his backpack shut. They matched gazes briefly and Kevin nodded toward the granola bar in Andrew's hand.

"If you aren't going to come to breakfast with us make sure you get something on your way to the library."

Aaron glared at him, then rolled his eyes and turned back to his brother. Andrew just looked at him, expression blank, and continued to hold out the damn granola bar like he could stand there all day without a care in the world.

A flash of resentment boiled through him. Of course Andrew could stand there so fucking unbothered. Barely anything affected him at all.

With an annoyed huff, Aaron snatched the bar out of Andrew's hand and shoved it into his pocket before stalking out of the building.

Wednesday | 1:15pm

Katelyn ❤️ (13:15): Hey baby! Prof Dixon bailed again ~ you free?

Aa. Min. (13:15): McCallister's?

Katelyn ❤️ (13:16): See u in 5! 😘

Wednesday | 1:23pm

Aaron stood inside the confused cacophony that was McCallister's, an on-campus restaurant that was the love child of a deli and a pub but four times too big, regretting his choices.

It wasn't even the noise that was bothering him the most. It was the smell.

Aaron took two steps into the restaurant and his stomach roiled. It twisted and tightened, curling in on itself in disgust at the sharp, slimy stench of cold cut deli meat cushioned on a waft of double-baked potatoes that filled the restaurant like wildfire's haze. He and Katelyn met here for lunch two or three times a week when their schedules lined up. They both liked the food and they had several corner booths where they could hide in and study together after eating. It was one of their favorite places. But right now, Aaron was fighting not to gag. 

“Aaron!” Relief warred with dread at the sound of Katelyn’s voice and he hastily plastered on an imitation of the smile he usually didn’t even have to think about, that always rose to his lips whenever she was around all on its own. It didn’t today, but for Katelyn he could make the effort. For Katelyn, Aaron could do anything. 

He turned around once that smile was fixed in place and wrapped his arms around her when she joined him, indulging in a quick kiss that soothed some of the nausea churning in his gut. When they broke apart, Aaron turned to lead them toward their usual booth but Katelyn stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Babe is everything alright?” Worry painted a crease between her eyebrows, her mouth drawn down as she studied him. 

Most days, Katelyn’s concern warmed him. It made him feel seen and loved and cherished. Today it put a slash of anxiety through his lungs, breath seeping out through the cut and concaving his chest under the weight of her scrutiny. 

Aaron arranged his smile into something tired and unalarmed. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a long week, y’know?”

Katelyn hummed like she wasn’t sure she believed him but was deciding to trust him anyway, then she smiled and she released his arm only to take his hand, giving it a small squeeze. “Alright, then let’s get some lunch and shut out the rest of the world for at least a little bit, yeah?”

The smell of the restaurant was still choking him and even his skin felt tight. The absolute last thing he wanted to do right now was stay there another second, let alone the hour he had until he needed to think about heading to his next class.

“I’m so sorry Kate, I’ve got to meet with the TA for my history class. I remembered right after I texted you but I still wanted to see you so I figured I’d just tell you when you got here.” He offered an apologetic smile and did his best to ignore the way guilt was now mixing uncomfortably well with the sick already sloshing around in his stomach. Aaron did not like lying to Katelyn, it felt wrong. But he also couldn’t... he couldn’t explain what was wrong with him right now -- not because he didn’t know, but because he was sure explaining it was going to make him sound crazy and that was just the last thing he needed right now. It was better to slip away, go somewhere he could focus on homework or something and just... wait for it to pass.

Katelyn’s expression fell, flashing disappointment, then a sad understanding as she nodded. “Of course. It’s okay babe, really. I’m just glad I got to see you at all.” She smiled then -- that bright, warm, just-for-him smile that always had Aaron’s heart skipping. A small knot of tension loosened in his lower chest, just enough that he was able to take a small breath and offer a more genuine smile of his own in return. 

“I love you,” he told her. 

“I love you too, Aaron. Take care of yourself and I’ll see you later, okay?”

He made no promises before he made his escape, just a smile and a wave.

Wednesday | 3:37pm

The granola bar tasted like ash in his mouth. It felt like there were iron weights attached to his jaw, making it impossible for him to chew. A fist of repulsion locked around his throat, and it was a physical struggle to swallow. 

This was the worst part about days like this.

Aaron knew he had to eat something, because he knew what could happen if he didn’t and the only thing worse than having to put up with feeling this way, dragging himself through the mud of his own psychosis one step, one mile, at a time -- was doing it with everyone watching him struggle. 

So he forced himself through half the granola bar. He knew better than to push for more than that, or all his efforts would be wasted into the nearest trash can.

Wednesday | 7:51pm

Practice had been brutal. It had been so bad that even Nicky hadn’t been able to cheer himself through it and was just as bitter and on edge as the rest of them by the time they hit the showers. 

Aaron sat in the lobby and waited for the others, feeling old. He felt tired. He just wanted these stupid pissing contests to stop and everyone to shut up. He wanted the world to be completely silent, completely empty. Emptiness sounded nice. Sounded peaceful. Sounded right.

The sharp scuff of shoe-rubber against tile had him cringing so hard his shoulders ached and he peeled his eyes open to glare at the source. Andrew stood there, hands in his pockets, blank-faced and too knowing.

Aaron snorted and looked away. 

The couch shifted slightly as Andrew took the spot next to him. There was the soft shk of a blade cutting into something crisp and when Aaron looked over, Andrew was holding out a small sliver of apple. His brother wasn’t looking at him. Instead, the other Minyard was dispassionately staring at the tv, which was playing some sports channel that Aaron knew very well Andrew didn’t give a single shit about. 

For a long moment Aaron just stared at the side of his twin’s face, but it was impossible to know what, if anything, he was thinking about. Finally, he looked at the sliver of apple. It was pale, small, unobtrusive. Aaron’s stomach clenched, a mix between hunger and repulsion. All he’d had today was that half a granola bar -- which had been both too much and not enough. His throat tightened as he stared at that innocuous slice of fruit, but he was almost focused more on the hand holding it. His eyes burned and he looked away, but not before taking the slice. 

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Slippin’ Mickeys

Only 3 stories by Slippin’ Mickeys ended up at Gossamer, but she’s written many more stories than that. She’s also one of the few authors who posted numerous stories during the show’s original run and then again in the revival years. I’ve recced some of my favorites of her stories here, including Last Chance Falls and Currahee. Big thanks to Slippin’ Mickeys for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

I would say that it does and doesn't surprise me. It surprises me that anyone would want to read something I wrote all those years ago, (only in that I was an actual teenager at the time, and had no chops at all -- I've grown a lot as a writer, and honestly have trouble reading my old stuff because I would have made much different creative decisions now). But the fanfiction that came out of the original run of the show -- from almost day one -- was so rich and varied and a lot of it so well written that I am not the least bit surprised that people want to read it today. I go back and read old favorites often, and am always thrilled to find something that's new-to-me, even if it's 27 years old.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

The first thing I think about when I think about my fandom experience are the friends I made along the way. The X-Files came up with the internet, and there was a whole new way of connecting with people that liked the things that you liked. To this day, I am good friends with many people that I met through the show back in 1997-98. When the revival came about, I dove back in, and made new, more recent friendships that are just as rich. I love the show, but I also love the people I met along the way.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

I first got into the show's online community on some random message board that I think I probably found through a Yahoo search one day in a computer lab on my university's campus. I connected with one woman from Greece named Fay that day, who invited me to join a group of women that chatted about the show after it aired on Monday nights. After the first time I hooked up with them, we talked almost daily via ICQ. Later, in the early aughts, I found the forums on Mighty Big TV/Television Without Pity, where some of the most intelligent discussion was going on. The forums were heavily moderated, and so they were always on topic, and it was just a smart, funny, great place to be.

Eventually, I started working for TWoP as both a writer and moderator (surprise! A lot of people don't know this because TWoP protected the identities of their mods so well, but I was the X-Files board mod after Jessica left!). It was my first paid writing gig and opened doors for me both professionally and personally. Two TWoP recappers were in my wedding!

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

Fanfiction opened my eyes to storytelling as a medium. I'd obviously gone to school and read books, but it opened my eyes to words to could do and be. It was a heady time. There were stories of every stripe. Short, long, canon-compliant, AU, experimental, you name it. We had such gifted writers, too. To this day, I'd almost rather read a piece of well written fanfic than a good book. Fanfic made me want to be a storyteller myself.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

It was the 'ship. God bless the ship. My first episode was Never Again, but I didn't watch again until I was sitting with my college roommate freshman year and she was like "sorry, but I have to watch The X-Files on Sunday nights." That first episode was Redux. The next week was Redux II, and by then it was all over for me. The lengths Mulder and Scully would go to for each other? And the relationship wasn't even sexual? Here were two people who loved each other. Really loved each other. Selflessly. I was SO IN.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

At first, I started reading it. This was back when you could only watch the show in reruns or on those VHS tapes that were sold in three packs that had two eps on each tape (I still have the trading cards that came with them), so after I burned through the VHS options (of which there were few), and set my VCR to tape the weekly reruns on FX, I needed MORE. I found fanfic. And in fanfic, Mulder and Scully actually like, kissed and maybe even had sex! I read everything I could get my hands on. Pretty soon, I wanted to write it myself.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

Things are tough these days. It's a hard world to live in, and politics aside, it just feels like everything is falling apart around us. When I first found the show, my life was in a bit of upheaval and I dove into the fandom to distract myself. I'm doing the same thing these days. When the show ended, I left the fandom and lived without it for about 15 years. But when the revival came (and really only after finishing season 11 -- season 10 didn't do much for me), I dove back in. I have quite a few more responsibilities these days, but when I can't watch the news anymore, I log on to XF Twitter (I use my fandom account far more than my IRL account) or Tumblr and get lost for a while. And most nights find me reading or writing fanfic before bed. When the world gets better (I'm cautiously optimistic) and the show has been off the air for years and years, will I leave again? Maybe. But for now, it's once again my happy place.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

Nothing hardcore. The X-Files is my ride or die.

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

I do an occasional episode or movie rewatch. Not too often, but when I'm jonesing and have 45 free minutes, I'll put one on. But I'm writing fanfic again, and I get hit with inspiration at random and odd intervals, so it's safe to say I find myself thinking about Mulder and Scully probably more than is healthy.

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

All the time. The old stuff, the new stuff, the good stuff. If I have five minutes and my kid is entertaining himself? I'll happy pull out an old favorite.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

I'm reluctantly abstaining from this question, as I'm still active in the fandom and I know that naming favorites will hurt some feelings.

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

Of The Eight Winds is probably my favorite. I've had a lot of fun writing AU's lately. It's a nice creative outlet, taking our favorite agents and plunking them in a totally different world.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

Do I! I have a whole ass queue. It's frankly irresponsible.

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I was writing professionally before I had a baby, and I took years off to be a stay at home mom. Once my kiddo was finally in school full time, I started writing again. With the pandemic, that's for the most part on hold, as I just don't have the bandwidth to dedicate to professional work. Fanfic is easier to play with when you only have five minutes here or there, and it's also great exercise when it comes to plotting and prose, so I'm  sticking with fic for now. When the kiddos are all back in school, maybe I can start getting paid again.

Where do you get ideas for stories?

I get a lot of prompts that I just adore. And honestly, a lot of times, I'll post a stupid picture or ridiculous prompt of my own on Twitter and get dared to write it. If the idea gets stuck in my craw, I generally have to exorcise the demon.

What's the story behind your pen name?

Bad Blood had just aired and I was obsessed with it. I wanted to pay homage to it, so took Mulder's "who slipped him the mickey?" quote and ran with it. Do I regret that? Sometimes.

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

My husband knows and is supportive. He's a working writer, so he supports my endeavors, though I know he wishes I were doing something I could monetize. But it makes me happy, and ultimately: happy wife, happy life and all that jazz.

The friends of mine that I've made through the fandom all know and are super supportive.

As for the rest, well... I have a nom de plume on purpose!

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

All my newest work is on AO3. My old stuff can be found on various archives. Like the truth... it's out there.

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

I'd leave it with: we're a blessed fandom. The show we stan (even with the real stinkers, there's always something to love) keeps giving, the fellow fans are all some of the smartest, sweetest, and most dedicated people out there... we've been blessed for 25 years, and I don't see that stopping any time soon.

(Posted by Lilydale on August 11, 2020)

[louandhazaf]

Buckle Up for some Thoughts!

I have a lot of thoughts on the “there are no good fics anymore!” anons that keep popping up. 

This obviously isn’t a new take, and obviously, as a writer I am biased, but my knee jerk reaction is THERE ARE SO MANY NEW AMAZING FICS! If you’re out there feeling like there are no good fics, are you reading new authors? Are you taking chances? You might need to close a few tabs if they aren’t all for you--they won’t be!--but I bet there are some gems if you just put in a little effort to find them!

I also really wish that these asks were more specific. What do you mean there aren’t any new good fics? WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING FOR? If you’re pining after innocent baby boyfriends... then... there might be few of those because as the guys mature the fics that surround them also are naturally going to mature? Louis is 28! A fully grown human man who has lived through some stuff, and I think that the current fic climate reflects that--which makes sense! So, if you’re out there moaning that there isn’t anything good, it’d actually be super helpful to think about what exactly you’re not finding. Because then:

You can send asks to authors asking for that sort of thing! Like, I know in the past I’ve gotten prompts sent to me and they don’t always resonate with what exactly I want to write, so then I post them and hopefully someone else will see and write it! I know lots of people send @kingsofeverything prompts when they see buttholes or small penis ideas (LMAO FOREVER) since that’s her brand, but with a lot of authors sometimes all it takes is a spark of inspiration to do something new (or old, trope-wise, if that’s what you’re looking for). 

Reblogging fic recs! I know some fic recs have a ton of likes (there are reasons for this! I personally use likes as a bookmarking system!) and less reblogs but if you’re looking for something specific, support fic reccers and ask for specific recs! 

(There is probably a whole other conversation to be had about answering anons with fic recs and then readers only reccing old fics, but I don’t have the bandwidth to get into that at the moment.)

(Ditto a conversation about readers bemoaning the lack of smut. What kind of smut do you want to read????)

Also this probably ties into a bigger conversation about the fractured fandom, about update accounts only reblogging some certain authors because of fandom drama, about the fandom in general being smaller and fics getting less hits, about witchhunts and pile-ons that stress out content creators, about readers being so vocal about what they don’t like instead of amplifying what they do like, etc etc etc which I think means that the channels in which to get new fics (or old fics that have been looked over BECAUSE THERE IS SO MUCH CONTENT IN THIS FANDOM! WE ARE BLESSED!) into the hands of readers who don’t want to put forth effort into sorting through ao3 are also blocked. 

And finally, for now, maybe, to reiterate a point that has been made many times, if you want content creators to stick around, then ideally readers will create a positive environment for them to thrive in. There’s nothing more disheartening as someone who is writing to hear ‘there’s nothing good’ that’s so general and such a bummer! Reblog fic posts! Leave kudos and comments! Interact with writers on tumblr! or twitter! Go re-read a fav of yours and tell the author! As a reader, I also have favs that I adore and that I wish there were more of, but instead of complaining I reread and I think about replicating it in my own work, and I try to keep things happy and wonderful so that those authors that I adore stick around for many more years! 

Also! Side note that I know is a hard sell... I know that readers like specific things, Larry, for instance, BUT there are so so so many rare pair fics in this fandom and I cannot suggest highly enough stepping outside of the bubble of what you like and trying something new because it might open up a whole new avenue of fics to explore while still participating in the greater 1D fandom. 

I think it’s a complicated situation! I think we’re likely never going to get back to the heyday when all those classic fics were written because the fandom is smaller and people keep leaving and then the mood droops and then less people want to write because it’s a bummer situation and then there’s more moaning and it could easily turn into a downward spiral. BUT THERE ARE SO MANY OF US OUT THERE STILL CREATING. Let’s try to turn this boat around! Let’s treat people with kindness! Let’s lift people up! Let’s invite in new writers! Let’s create a heyday revival! 

[lornahansonforbes]

From 21 October 2021

“Well it certainly captures your anger and your hurt, although it be lies the fact that you really don’t know me and this fantasy you’ve had about me since high school is pretty much just that.”

“Well it certainly captures your anger and your hurt, although it be lies the fact that you really don’t know me and this fantasy you’ve had about me since high school is pretty much just that.”

As I drove around today, Pariah Carey’s song, “Fantasy,” came up on my jukebox playlist. It prompted me to think harder. It made come back to these text messages. You’re correct, the hero of a fool, or is it, shake the hand of a brand new fool. Nah. That’ll never happen.

Apparently I’ve been obsessed about being obsessed ergo I’m obsessing over being obsessive and like a Pitbull Terrier, I’ve got lockjaw and I won’t let it go. I’m such a fucking loser and I’m truly galactically stupid. I know I shouldn’t have a blog nor a space to express my feelings. SMDH. 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ I can’t speculate nor assume anything else since there’s absolutely no way in hell etc that the “universe speaks to me.” That’s a crock of shit as it should be and I need to be underneath the pedestal I put you on. I’m far worse than let’s say, TMZ or Perez Hilton. Fuck, dude. Stephen King, Jackie Collins, Hans Christian Andersen nor Isaac Asimov could write this reflection of a word salad. No coherent thoughts. Is it a Dangling Participle or is a Dangling Obscene Pickle? It’s all a fantasy. Nothing with me is consistent. Especially contact. Plus I know nothing about you though I’m thinking that you might know something about me via this blog, which should never be here and my words will come back home to roost and destroy my life. As it should. I’m sure that you aren’t actually thinking about it or me but when you do, yes, my mother should have had an abortion or my twin sister should have eaten me in the womb.

Such sweeping blanket generalizations about my hurt and I put words in your mouth and the amount of bandwidth needed to accommodate your feelings, well now. I’m sorry about that and I violated your space. As I’ve said before I should just stop. I probably should unalive myself but you then would then go on about me being such a fucking drama queen and I want to make it all about me. Certainly you’d never think about that entire experience because you are like a Maga Republican since these things are just things you’d see somewhere, gloss over it and look at, do I need to get some things at Trader Joe’s? I’m sorry about being here and existing. Dude, I’m not having a fucking pity party. I’m only attempting to glean something and how I’ve been in a coma and yes, you know that you should’ve pulled the plug because you were on four percent and your TracPhone is still not eligible for an upgrade. Another one of my fantasies. When I sit here on my couch tapping out words, nothing I’ve ever done is real. Lies. All lies. I’m not an empath. I’m just a sponge who takes, takes, takes and drains people of all their love and emotions. Again, I’m sure you don’t have any of those things. It has been my experience that folks who have your Zodiac Sign specifically are comfortably numb and I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about since I live in a fantasy world and I expect to live happily ever after.

And the only thing that I can say emphatically without a doubt, you had a perfect opportunity to meet up with me in person and you blew it. Nope. Couldn’t do it. It’s very reminiscent of that infamous slow car chase from back when, it can’t be unseen nor erased. You like my foster son, who’s birthday is the 23rd, just wants me to stop existing and get help. Seek out professional help and process these feelings and get me to stop living my fantasy world. Because I told him that he was loved by me and I the absolute fucking audacity to say it out loud. You had an opportunity and he did too but do know this, I’ll be dead one day and I’m hoping that you’d have the opportunity to urinate on my urn and then flush the contents down the nearest toilet. As I’m a piece of shit. I’m not angry or hurt that I can live with myself full well knowing I’m nothing to anyone especially you. The sad thing is that I’m sure you don’t have anyone else who has carried a torch this long. As I conclude my apologies, and as I said in a previous blog, we do share something and it’s not that we went to the same high school and you’ll never figure it out. Just come right out and say it, “Fuck Off and Die, (insert my government name here)!!!! Why, motherfucker, why?”

…post script…as I went out for a little while. I forgot to tell you that the other one in my life is brother and his birthday is the 26th. It came to me that as the blind man picked up his hammer and saw saying what light dawns over marble head, y’all have never ever said that you were sorry or shown remorse and all that rot like everyone else does. However y’all get some shit done but the other person’s feelings aren’t apart of the equation. Y’all just shutdown, walk away and takes zero out of your life to actually get to a resolution. I also know quite well enough that your favorite Light in the Loafers Limp Wristed Fudge Packing Hershey Highway Man Piece of Faggot Trash Cum Gargling Dumpster Diving Pond Scum Sucking Dirty Pig Fucker will know that the universe does indeed speak to me whether I like it or not and I will continue to write whether I know I did deliberately or not but I know I hit a nerve and I was right about something and you will never ever tell me or anyone else what it was. Sadly my foster son, my brother and you, none of us will ever get to a place of either forgiveness or forget about you as it pertains to me. The joys of coming back from a hypomania phase. 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

[aaabhiklmnnrs]

this morning i was going through this photo album from 2016 from when my parents visited Boston. i try not to cling to them in any manner. all my life i have rarely seeked them, i remember once when i was still quite young, my mother had once got unnerved by my sense of individuality that she angrily remarked, ‘you never speak. DN (my sister who lives in Bhopal) talks a lot, about everything’. she had seemed hurt that i ‘talk lesser’, that I ‘share lesser’.

the D in DN is short for Devaki which is my sister’s born-name. N is for Nandan which my mother added sometime during her toddlerhood, my mother would call her Nandu when we were kids. and as we grew older, sometimes as we would be hanging together, she would shout Devaki Nandan…Devaki Nandan from downstairs while also clapping her hands super-loud, and I would beg my sister to rush, mostly in self-defense, the recurring sound would cause hypersensitive ears to ache. i am thinking of all these today in fond reminiscence. I plan to surprise-call my mother this weekend. my sister too, but i call her more often, and frequent-check on my niece as well. one of these days, I need to reply-call my cousin Gouri, and then my favorite aunt Uma Mami too, i haven’t responded to either of them. I have no idea what Jaya Mami is up to, the last time i met her at a weekend lunch, she was busy planning a seemantham-get-together for one my cousins’ pregnant wife. i am not sure if she is in town, my phone is switched off. i also have to get myself to be in a mind space where I may sit and work on the brain-gut project, and slowly try to build on it by seeking help from Meera Mami.

back in 2014, i was collective-accused of being a liar, a wannabe-Brahmin. check this out, it’s not unnatural to relate to those from your mother’s side of the family, i was shamed for trying to pass of as Brahmin at the time. i was tagged Blue Jackal. at the time, i never thought much of it because that’s not what i had intended to do. only now i’m reliving those days, i shall write on this another time.

by end of august 2019, i am sharing thoughts solely here — @fanofStarc and balakrishnanM.tumblr.com. it may be easier to remain here if i’m not being hack-broadcasted. i find everything else overwhelming, from which i seek distance and space. on Mar. 31st, is when I truly realized that the Hack Broadcasting is influential…when you had shared Mamukoya’s നാരിയൽ-drink troll video. i was left sulking that they took BK. who is they? the world, in general. it has always been a tested-formula to gain collective society approval -- just show the തേങ്ങ of a woman who is boss—simply play to prevalent casual misogyny that seems unable to let a woman, just be!

and then by that evening i guess, you had shared this article  on how it’s all depressing overall. that day you had gotten 100 likes or so for the troll video, and it had made me wonder then…what would tick BK, wasn’t playing തേങ്ങ-udakkal-Boss and getting cheery validation from good society enough for your daily high? i had found your ‘flawed’ most interesting that day, and so catered to you on April 5th by sharing a Mammukka troll video song. when i think of the past one year i feel… it’s all at a point where i cannot say what is right or wrong or anything, but i would think now and then…because of these never-ending wars that keep going on, i feel only more closer to BK, i’m still comfortable around BK, i haven’t lost beauty around him and that’s categorically a truly, lucky thing that happened to me. so why would i wish to spend time trying to work out the nuances of the rest of it all, or be continually-forced to do so?

i’m keeping alive off of 2015, i’m in a space where I am able to find value, from drops of sustainability hope that i have around you, whatever be the name for it all. if this space wasn’t there, i would not be writing, i would have shut down shop. the zen-വാഴപ്പഴം  remark was an attempt at humor, i do not seek daily validations, whatever you have shared, or how you have been, or who you were, this past year, is more than enough for me to feel comfortable around you. my comfort is built based on everything from over a period in time.  

male privilege is when i do not know who your on-paper spouse is, or that people are not too curious what she has to say regarding every socmedia-activity of yours, it is when you are not glued along with your on-paper spouse and their opinion is not sought about everything regarding yours. i do not know if you have children, of if you are planning to have any soon. and as a woman, i’m perfectly fine with consuming zen-വാഴപ്പഴം that is shared, on your own volition, on social media spaces. male entitlement is not acknowledging these default-comforts that you maintain in life, not acknowledging that you are never on trial for anything, definitely not for over an year, and which tries best to decide everything on your behalf. prison mostly just enhances the traumatic, it doesn’t help evolve or sustain.

there is a scene in the film പേരൻമ്ബ്. a woman and a group of people bullies Mammukka’s character into giving up his lovely house that is in a serene ambience in the middle of nowhere, which he had bought solely to raise his disabled daughter. The gist of what they try to say to him is— hey we had considerate-offered you 1.5 million initially, but you had dismissed us off then….as if you are a പെരിയ പരുപ്പ് , how do you like lovely-bullying now?

Mammukka goes on to helplessly-sign-the-papers, everyone feel victorious about confiscating his house. soon after, calm has restored, and he & the woman are in a scene together.

W: നാങ്ക ഏൻ ഇപ്ടി പണ്നോന്നാവത് കേട്ടിട്ട് പോയിടുങ്കളെ, സർ.

M: ഉങ്കളുക്ക് എന്ത പ്രചനയുഇല്ലാത, അഴകാന ഒരു കുഴന്ത ഇരിക്കിറപ്പോ, എന്ന പോയി ഏമാത നിനച്ചീങ്കളെ, അപ്പൊ ഉങ്കളുക്ക് എവളവ് പെരിയ പ്രചന ഇരുന്തിര്ക്കും, വിടുങ്ക!

the woman and her husband mixed-emotion-watch as  Mammukka walks away from the frame.

W: അവർ റൊമ്പ നല്ലവർ, മാമ.

H: അപ്പൊ നമ്മ ആര് di? (so what are we? )

i enjoyed the writing there. i must have watched the film probably a month or two ago, but this scene stays in my mind. for a couple of reasons.

1. i think this is disability-friendly dialogue. both parties have their own sets of privileges in life, and the added difficulties from being disabled is acknowledged, the disability party is not expected to act ‘more inspirational’ by being eternally-patient regarding the many reasons of the ableist party. the disabled is allowed time and space to make peace with their disability, soak in their disadvantages, they are not force-prompted to cater to the external. and by acknowledging that niche, the life struggles of the disabled, the script allows dignity. it doesn’t try to dilute or under-value it. because it would have been easier to do the opposite and cater to the average movie-goer who is ableist, and thus probably raise more-awareness and more-empathy for disability. but by not spoon feeding, the writing doesn’t enforce disability on its audience, doesn’t make empathy a pre-requisite. it says, hey if you have it in you to care, it’s solely up to you to give it further thought.  

2. it doesn’t try to make Mammukka the resident നല്ല പിള്ള. there is no aspiration toward establishing a consensus on who gets to be morally superior or who has upper hand in the given context. yet, both parties choose their own ശരികൾ. as much as Mammukka is allowed to hold on to his indignation, the spouse of woman neutralizes any perceived moral high by asserting their side of ശരികൾ. he doesn’t wish to agree that Mammukka is a better-person, he doesn’t have the bandwidth in life to acknowledge the disability of the other party, he is occupied with his own problems in life. he asserts that their, seemingly, lower middle class life sucks just as much, even with ableist privileges, and in his eyes, playing bully on the disabled for survival is easy-justified.

i feel this writing respects the audience, i do not know who wrote it, but the script doesn’t give ‘the reason’ for the sequence of events. it challenges by asserting that it is okay to not know everything, the audience doesn’t get to presume and analyze, nor feel authority on the lives of others that they do not entirely know of.

these are words from the article you had shared : ‘I find that discussion depressing. Prudent and smart decisions don’t require full knowledge. They require that you assess the uncertainty and figure out its potential consequences. The uncertainty doesn’t mean that you simply cross your arms, close your eyes, and do nothing while you wait for complete certainty. In economics, you will be waiting a long time. I have loaded much into the term ‘prudent’, however. Designing activist policy prescriptions on the basis of a false pretense of knowledge can indeed be harmful.’

acknowledging false pretense of knowledge is good enough. thank you for listening to this podcast on sticky brain.  one of these days, i may expand on why deepika padukone is always a cool woman who stays a life influence, and yet how i know that i’m not a wannabe-Brahmin any longer in life, despite the many, data-psychoanalyzing. i may write about it here about in quiet confidence regardless of if i receive zen-വാഴപ്പഴം delivery.

also, because in ‘the contender’ which is an all-time favorite film, the female VP candidate character says - i will not answer questions. because it validates the asking of wrong-entitled questions in the first place, because the control-freak, half-truth സ്മാർത്തവിചാരം never seem to end. i agree that society is not the world in ‘the contender’ etc. still, i refuse to keep on catering to how things are right now. i refuse to engage with reasons for Hack-Broadcasting anymore, not after one whole year of social experimenting that refuses to consider how it is ill-affecting my health. let us be equally fair to all of us.

yet, you may be right too…as Tim Grover, trainer of Michael Jordan says, there may be nothing much, in the long run, that one person’s tiny ‘will’ can do against persistent, adverse ‘environments’. fine, then so be it! i shall switch my phone back on, and continue to live in the same spaces that i have been hack-violated, and stay imprisoned for sake of voyeuristic-TRP television show, if that’s how it has to be. maybe some day, എന്നെ തീർത്തും തോൽപിച്ച satisfaction കിട്ടി കഴിഞ്ഞാൽ, the world may lose interest and leave me alone, i can always remain in hope. and then i may begin to sustain, eventually. some day. 

ps. disability models, social and medical. “i do not hold the possibly-another-marriage-for-me-in-this-life outlook any longer. and, to feel ‘comfortable’ means that instead of shutting down entirely or reliving traumas or relapsing into dysfunctional every days, i feel up to practicing better at staying on the ground, just so life can be lived a little easier. i’m a writer-type, and to have niche spaces like @fanofStarc and balakrishnanM.tumblr.com,  where i may feel comfortable, to express thoughts with the world, on healthy enough days, make me quite the grateful Worm Menon.” 

[louandhazaf]

ANNUAL WRITING SELF EVALUATION

1. List of works published this year: 

Fistiana (Zouis) They met in the center of the ring and bumped their bare knuckles together.

sun, here it comes (Larry) The sun beckoned him. He had no plans for the day other than soaking up some rays on his front stoop.

Counterbalance (Larry) Harry Styles loves two things: teaching ballet and racing motorcycles. Those two worlds collide when his greatest rival on the track, Louis “Tommo” Tomlinson brings his tiny siblings to Harry’s class.

get my kicks like you (none) “Wait,” Liam had said. “You all jerked it at Niall’s?” // Zayn had looked back with furrowed brows over his sunglasses. “Yeah?” he confirmed, with a easy shrug. Like Liam was the weird one for asking.

your best fake smile (Larry) Harry reluctantly agrees to a first date with Louis at Coney Island.

Good Boys Do Bad Things (Louis/Bressie) Bressie was a fucking stud and Louis couldn’t fully be blamed for his actions when Bressie was around. Harry had made fun of Louis relentlessly for like four months back in college after Louis had admitted there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for six feet two. And Bressie was six feet fucking six. // Or, the one where Louis doesn't mean to fall for his boss.

Live Like You Were Dying (Larry) I’m in love with you. // The phone fell from his hand, and the world went black.

Tennis Whites (Larry) Harry settles himself on the bench, puts his sunglasses on, and focuses his attention on the court. // There, in all his glory, is Louis Tomlinson.

The Future Reflected (Larry) Louis didn't take the stupid game seriously. Maybe he should've.

Heart that I Let Down (Larry) Where do broken hearts go? Louis took Harry’s with him when he went to LA, now Harry’s on a mission to find him.

to love in word and deed (Larry) Louis loves everything about living with Harry. Except for Harry's effusive proposals. Because the problem is, it's getting harder and harder for Louis to keep reacting like they're jokes.

There’s a Ring in the House (Larry) Louis knows Harry is going to propose. He's terribly impatient about it.

37 ficlets -- And Let Me Kiss You (multiple pairings)

 2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

I love Fistiana so incredibly much. I did what I set out to do which was write a homoerotic boxing fic where Louis is really leaning into "You construct intricate rituals which allow you to touch the skin of other men” in this town where he is not out. I had a whole team of betas and so many people who helped me narrow my focus to what I really wanted to happen and I just really love it a lot. I’ve read it more times than I can possibly count. 

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

Heart that I Let Down only because I love "Where Do Broken Hearts Go" more than anything and while I didn’t fail at getting some emotion in there, I think it’s a lot flatter than what I initially set out to do. But. Time. Deadlines. A super stressful year. I did my best and I’m certainly not beating myself up over it. 

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

Uhhh so I wrote a Harry/Shawn kiss for And Let Me Kiss You prompts. I love the potential for angst over Niall in that particular pairing. I want there to be more heartbreaking fics where Harry and Shawn are using each other to get over Niall. Come on fandom, do your thing! 

Anyway... this is from that:

Harry appreciates the honesty. This, thing, isn’t going to linger. It’s what they need, now, to soothe over their pain. “Want to feel what he left me for,” Harry says over a choked breath.

Shawn leans in the rest of the way, and while it doesn’t lessen the pangs–-the sadness, the longing, the questioning of where it all fell apart–-they're muted for as long as their bodies are pressed together.

5. Share or describe a favorite review you received:

Literally all of the nice ones? I love comments. They see me through the hard times and even though I’m shit at responding to them I really do love them all so very much. God, and comments when my fics are still anon? I just... I love them so so so much. I think I have a very special place in my heart for everyone who told me that they related to your best fake smile. Sending big huge hugs to all of those people, specifically. 

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

The entire second half of the year, to be honest. I got some shitty news at work at the end of May that just never improved and it made focusing on a lot of other things really hard and my writing time and effort just plummeted because I didn’t have enough bandwidth.

7. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

All of The Future Reflected was a surprise that never in a million years would I have guessed I’d write something like that. 

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

Oof. To be totally honest I have exactly zero idea how to answer this for 2019.

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

I hope to be better at plotting and writing longer fics. 

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

@kingsofeverything. ILY!

11. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

It does every year!

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

Um. No. I think I’m in a funk with my own writing and the idea of trying to pass on wisdom feels futile at this juncture of my life. 

13. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

I will finish my Lucifer AU if it will kill me!

14. Tag three writers whose answers you’d like to read.

I am posting this so very late because to love in word and deed was anon until Dec 31st, that probably everyone else has done it!

*All answers should be about works published in 2019. Also, you can skip any questions you hate or don’t want to answer, but please leave them on the list so that others can do them if they want.

(also, here’re my responses from 2016, 2017, 2018)