#Who else writes a ton of stuff and hates filling in the gaps?

[atombonniebaby]

WIP Weekend

Thanks to @theartofblossoming for the tag!

Tagging fellow creatives (no obligations here either!): @druidgroves @fallout-new-mudkip @galaxycunt @just-another-wasteland-merc @maccreadysbaby @perfectlypreservedpie @sassenashsworld @sirmanmister @willinglyghoulified

As for me? My Dudes, she's been writing! (and procrastinating said writing by playing fo4 and making screenshots!)

So here's an update on MacBeth!

Been smoothing out the timeline! Trying to take my time to get the pacing right! [I'm excited because it's getting meaty and falling into place...it's getting chonky!!]

Coming up:

Enter Mayor MacCready (Sim Settlements 2 makes this a reality, btw!)

Mac's past as a Gunner comes back to bite him. (Featuring Quincy and Sunglasses)

A wee bit o romance to fix up (and bewilder) a lonesome merc

Mac steps up big-time (MM stuff, SS2 cast come in, and I love 'em!)

Some more angst (okay, most of it is probably angst.)

Winter is Coming...and it bringeth the Feral Hordes (I apologize in advance, Mac!)

Thar be an imposter among us...

Responsibility weighs heavily...Guilt be crippling!

(Oh look, this is roughly where I originally started this fic like a rookie!)

To follow: A bunch of other stuff I've been cooking up over the year (Expect Reunions, Lamplighters all grown up, more bad jokes, heartache, and (I hope) big reveals.)

For Now:

Here's a scene from an upcoming 3 chapter story arc.

Since Duncan was featured in my posts this week, I found myself revisiting the flashback that leads to the moment Mac makes the promise to his son. The full rewrite will now reveal the identity of 'The Stanger.'

The Promise

Awakening to Duncan’s demands for attention, he’s alone, and RJ bristles, the faint smell of newborn mingling with the antiseptic of the surgery overwhelming. After a minute of psyching himself up, he bundled the screeching infant into his arms and moved for the door, hoping to find some bleeding heart to ease his headache—he didn't get that far. 

Goddammit, the little shit had to stop crying, didn’t he? Trying to ignore the feel of Duncan's small fingers curling around his, he shrugs off the comforting pull of the bundle of warmth in his shaking arms and cradles his son close, sinking back into the chair, the fingers on his free hand clinging to Lucy’s. It's the first moment of peace in days, a fleeting respite, and it’s too much. His steely exterior cracks, and the quiet, simmering tears spill over.

RJ cleared his throat as the airlock opened, and a nurse walked in—about dang time!  She’s young and smiley. Her brown hair was neatly braided underneath a funny hat with a green cross. He wondered if Lucy would wear one if she became a nurse. "You okay, love?" She looked him over, sweetly, caring like—handing him a rag.

Oh, fuck off! He was not crying! "Yeah—Just the damn dust!" his nose wrinkled, and MacCready hoped his smile was convincing.

"You want to have a go, or shall I take him?" She held up a bottle.

"I can do it!" he said a little too enthusiastically. “I don't want him to start crying again. My head is already splitting." 

He took the bottle she handed him—that stuff gets expensive. There was no point in letting it get cold, sitting and arguing about it.

"Need me to show you?" the nurse said with a hand on her hip and a smug glint in her eye. 

She probably thought he'd need help because he's a guy or something—he was feeding his son to spite her! "I can manage...thanks," he grumbled. "Not my first time feeding a Little.”  

He hated himself for smiling at how Duncan enthusiastically gripped that bottle. He was supposed to be angry at him, but as he suckled the bottle, RJ looked—really looked at him, those warm browns blinking back—the little bastard, that was all it took.

"Kid has her eyes," RJ sputtered, wiping his nose. "Damn, dust—don't you guys have cleaning robots around here?" 

He accepted the rag this time, laughing through the tears seeping through. The nurse gave his shoulder a light squeeze and a knowing look, and she grinned all toothy at him before disappearing back through the airlock.

"You see how she looked at us, kid?" he scoffed, brows pinching as he wiped the tears from his face. 

"You know, I bet your mumma is gonna freak the fu–agh—" MacCready furrowed his brows as he looked over the innocent bundle in his arms. "Freak the frick out when she meets you." The stranger's voice was a dull drone, a gnawing Rad Rat in the back of his mind. 

"I didn't mean to yell at you, a'right?" his head shook, smiling. “She is the one that keeps me level-headed. She'd kick my ass—for fuck…nope....uh-uh—"

MacCready cleared his throat, steeling himself before continuing. "She'd beat my butt if she heard me talk to you like that. So, how about we don't tell her, huh? Do you promise to keep this between us, two MacCready boys?

Duncan fidgeted through his swaddle. Big eyes focused on him. "Yeah?" MacCready chuckled, playing with his son's feet beneath the blanket. "Then, I promise to get my shit–oh, for fuck sake!" he took another deep breath that exhaled as a laugh.

"Maybe I should start with a swear jar..."

[jilyss]

drinks and fries chapter 2

part 1 | part 2

for some reason I didn’t think it would be interesting to keep writing this, and thought it would be good as just a little fic BUT then I got a bunch of requests AND i mighttt have spent the entire time last night before I fell asleep thinking about it, so here’s a second part!

--

They walked down the street and towards the diner James had mentioned, chatting about Lily’s football season. James knew his stuff, and Lily had to remind herself more than a few times to remain calm. She had literally never met someone - girl or guy that didn’t already play professionally - who understood the female football league and game so well.

“You really think Liverpool is going to make the FA cup?”

“Oh, absolutely. I’ve trained with Jessica Clarke before, and she’s a great leader, really knows her stuff. And Vicky Jepson? She’s a great manager, knows exactly what’s shes doing.”

They had reached the diner, and James held the door open for her, gesturing with one hand for her to enter. “I think their defense is too weak. Last time you played with them, you guys crushed through it, no problem.”

Lily shrugged as she held up two fingers to the waitress, singling it was just two of them. “I think Jepson fixed it. We haven’t played them this year, but it’s looking better than it did last year.” James nodded, opening his mouth to say something else, but then their waitress led them to their table, and once seated, Lily dove into her menu. She hadn’t realized just how hungry she was.

It was a mom and pop diner, and this late on a Friday night, there weren’t a lot of people still eating, leaving the place mostly to empty. Lily glanced up at James, eyes quickly flicking up to his messy hair before returning to her menu. She tried not to imagine what it would feel like. “I’m just warning you, I’m absolutely starved, so don’t expect me to be all ladylike and eat just half of my food.”

James glanced up at her over the menu, eyes twinkling. “You just played a crazy intense 90-minute game, of course you better eat up.”

Lily grinned, setting her menu down and running her fingers through her hair again, hoping to straighten out any flyaways. All of her previous boyfriends had not bothered to hide their surprise when, after games and long practice sessions, Lily ate her fill. It wasn’t like she ate unhealthy either - but she needed the calories, and had to eat a lot to stay healthy. Some of her exes were worse than others - one had even gone so far as to take her plate away when he thought she had eaten too much (that relationship had not lasted long). It was refreshing to see James not give two shits about what she ate, or how much she ate.

The waitress came by, and Lily and James placed their orders. Lily turned the conversation onto James, preferring to be less in the spotlight when it came to her job. She loved football, but she hated giving off the impression that she was bragging about her skills, and preferred not to talk about it a ton with people she just met. Her friends listened to her rants, cheered her on at games, but Lily tried to think of it as a normal job, even if she was gone every other week and worked more hours than was reasonable.

They chatted until their food arrived, and then they were quiet for a few minutes as Lily dove into her food. James worked for his father’s company, which she got the distinct impression that he stayed quiet about it similar to the reasons she stayed quiet about hers.

“So you were going to go practice more tonight? Even after your fantastic game?”

Lily opened her mouth to protest, about to insist that it was not a fantastic game, but he raised his eyebrows and she shut her mouth. It hadn’t been completely terrible, and she was being a little hard on herself. “I wasn’t going to do anything crazy. Just a few drills to try and clear my head.” She shrugged. “The facility is quiet at night.”

“You do that often?”

Lily finished off the last of her fries and sat back in her seat, feeling absolutely stuffed and a little rejuvenated. She tugged at the collar of her sweatshirt again and pulled her fingers into the sleeves of the sweatshirt. “A lot more lately.” She bit her lip, wondering how much she wanted to share. “It’s hard being on the road so much and then coming home to my friends. They support me a thousand percent, but it’s hard to keep track of their lives and I always miss their events. It’s a little overwhelming to try and hang out with them sometimes, so I just end up going to the training facility.”

“Do your friends know you’re aiming for the Olympics?”

She squirmed a little in her seat. She honestly felt bad for not telling them, but it just seemed easier. What happened if she didn’t make the team? “I haven’t told anyone, just my coach.”

“And me.”

“And you.”

He smiled slightly, shaking his head as he watched her. “My best mates - they’re great. All of them are my brothers, basically. And I’m sure your mates are great too. But you gotta let them help you. That’s what friends are for.”

Lily nodded. She ducked her head, looking at the table. “I just… What happens if I don’t make the team? I don’t want to disappoint anyone and then deal with it all afterwards.”

“C’mon Evans, that’s no way to live. Your mates are your mates, and that’s what they’re there for.”

Lily blushed slightly at the use of her last name but looked up to meet his eyes. He made a really good point, and it was something Lily definitely needed to be reminded of at the moment. She thought back to the club, when she’d been tired, and probably a little rude to her friends. She made a silent resolve to do better.

His leg brushed hers under the table, but he didn’t move it away, and Lily had to force the butterflies in her stomach down. He brushed another hand through his hair, and she tried not to notice the sliver of skin that showed above his waistband. Instead, she asked him about his mates, and he dove into a story of how in uni, his friends had plastered various pictures of Chandler Bing in their uni’s president’s office.

They traded off stories from uni until the diner closed, and got kicked out by a rather annoyed waitress. James had refused to let her pay, despite her insisting that she had ordered too much food to let him. But he hadn’t budged even slightly, and Lily paid the tip.

Once they were outside the diner, they paused, looking up at the street to the club they had left earlier. Lily didn’t want to go back to the club, but she also wasn’t sure what James was thinking. Had this been a friendly dinner, or was this a date?

Lily shivered, goosebumps appearing all over her exposed legs as a sudden chill swept through the street. James didn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around her, tucking her in under his arm, and Lily gratefully wrapped an arm around his back. He dropped his head closer to her, and Lily felt his warm breath tickle her ear. “What’s next?”

She looked up at him, wanting to thread her fingers through his hair that looked unreasonably soft. For a moment, she got so lost looking at him that the first thing that came out of her mouth was “I need to shower.” She wanted to kick herself for saying something like that, but in all honesty, she was too much of a mess at the moment to do anything else.

“Probably.”

Lily punched him lightly in the shoulder as he laughed. “I know I smell, but you don’t need to bring it up.” She pulled out her phone and with a few taps, sent a request for an uber. Luckily, there was one only a few minutes away, and as Lily shut her phone off, she wrapped both of her arms around James’ torso, tilting her head up to look at him.

He pulled her even closer, rubbing his arm over her back to keep her warm. He seemed to pause for a second, but Lily let her eyes slowly flick down to his mouth. He took the hint and closed the gap, pressing his lips lightly against Lily’s. Lily lifted on her toes to reach him better, sliding her hands around his neck to pull him down. At that, he deepened the kiss, letting his hands wander to play with the ends of her ponytail. Lily’s fingers gently scratched at the back of his head, feeling just how soft his hair really was.

James pulled away slightly, and Lily went on her tiptoes again, greedy for more. He laughed slightly and pointed at the street. A silver car pulled up next to them, and Lily realized it was their uber. James grabbed the door, and as she slid in, she grabbed his hand.

Once in the car, Lily leaned her head on James’ shoulder, surprised at how comfortable she was with the man she had met just a few hours ago. If her friends could see her right now, they would never back off of her.

Her apartment was only a few kilometers away, and they arrived quickly. Lily climbed out, James’ hand briefly gripping her right hip as he climbed out behind her. He waved at the Uber driver, and as the car drove off, Lily grabbed his hand again and pulled him up the stairs and into their building.

She jabbed at the elevator button, feeling James’ warm presence at her back, and willed herself to keep a hold of her self control until they were in her apartment. But it snapped the moment the elevator doors closed and James pressed a kiss just under her jawline. She turned around and pushed him against the back of the elevator, devouring his mouth in a greedy kiss. He responded in kind, moving his hands from her shoulders down to her hips.

The elevator chimed, and Lily broke away, but only enough to check for anybody in the hallway before pulling James back to her and backing him down the hallway towards her apartment. When they finally, finally reached her apartment, Lily fumbled with the keys, slightly distracted as James, standing behind her, kissed his way from her ear down to her collarbone.

They burst through the door, and Lily immediately kicked off her shoes, throwing her phone and keys down on the nearby couch. James’ fingers latched on to the bottom of her sweatshirt, but when he didn’t make any moves to pull it off, Lily slipped out of it herself, leaving her in her blue jersey. She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards her bedroom, but when he moved towards the bed, Lily pulled away and laughed.

She grabbed the hem of his shirt and quickly pulled it off. She let herself admire him for a second, running her hands over his stomach, before quickly stripping off her jersey top. He tried again towards the bed by grabbing her hips and turning her around, but she slipped by him. She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the bathroom, and he smirked against her lips. “I promise I don’t care about sweat.”

Lily smiled again, because, really, where did he come from? There was just something about being so comfortable with him - the appreciation for women’s sports, the food, and complete disregard of her smell - that made Lily want his clothes off even faster.

He was more than happy to oblige, and in seconds, they were under the steady stream of her shower, Lily pressed against the cold wall.

 By the time they were done, Lily was sure that her water bill would significantly higher this month, and that she definitely would have several red spots that would need covering up in the morning. James seemed content to stay while she showered, but “yes James, I really do need to wash my hair, so if you could stop kissing me for just a second -”

Needless to say, she wasn’t going to get anything done with him there, and laughing she eventually kicked him out, pointing him towards the clean towels in her cabinet. A few minutes later, she emerged in her towel to find James, now mostly dressed, lounging on her bed. She smiled at him, walking over to her closet to grab a fresh shirt and shorts. But he appeared behind her, pressing kisses from the sweet spot he’d discovered earlier down to her shoulder. In an instant, she dropped her towel again and then pushed him onto the bed, straddling him as he laid down.

“You sure you can go again, Evans? I mean, you gotta be exhausted and -” James started to say, but Lily pressed another kiss to his lips.

“I think I’ve got excellent stamina, Potter.” James growled at his name and flipped them over so that he was now on top.

The shower had made it a little hard for certain activities, but Lily and James picked up where they’d left off, and by the time they were finished, Lily could feel her exhaustion setting in. After using the bathroom, she immediately collapsed on the bed, tucking her wet hair up over a pillow. James slide in next to her a few minutes later, wrapping a warm arm around her waist and pulling her close. She didn’t often bring home random guys, instead preferring to go to their place for an easy escape afterwards. This time, however, she had no problem with James, and fell into a deep sleep.

 Lily didn’t wake up until it was nearly ten am, much later than normal. She had a half-second where she panicked and thought she had missed a training session, but she quickly remembered she wasn’t due back until two. She had another half-second panic attack when she wondered why there were clothes strewn all over the floor, but the memories of the night came flooding back to her, and despite her best efforts, a slow smile slid over her face.

James wasn’t in bed, but she heard noises in the kitchen. She quickly threw on a baggy clean t-shirt and a pair of shorts and padded out of the bedroom. James was standing over a pan of eggs and grinned as she came out.

“Morning Evans,” he said. Lily did not miss the fact that he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and appreciated it even more in today’s morning light. “I hope it’s ok that I rummaged through your fridge.”

Lily nodded, letting out a huge yawn. “Sorry I slept so late.”

He flipped off the stove and looked around for her plate cupboard. She pointed to one on his right, and he dished the eggs out. He slid the plate over to her as she pulled out a chair. “S’no problem. I was only awake long enough to make these.”

Lily quickly dove in, starving again after a long day yesterday and a busy evening. James grabbed his plate and sat directly to her right, letting his leg brush against hers. They sat together, eating and chatting quietly. It was easy to relax, and once again, Lily was surprised by how comfortable she was with him. Lily had just pushed away her plate when her phone rang from the bedroom. She stood, grabbing both of their empty plates, placed them in the sink, and grabbed her phone.

She emerged a few minutes later looking a little grumpy. “Everything ok?” James asked, scrubbing the egg pan.

“Coach wants me in to talk over some film before practice. I need to head out soon.” Lily braced her arms on the counter opposite from James. She’d hoped that he could stay a little longer.

James set the clean pan on the counter and dried off his hands before moving to mirror her position across the counter. He leaned over it, pressing a kiss to her lips. “Mm-hm. I was hoping we would have a little more time.”

Lily let out a little sigh as she moved around the counter so that she had full access to him. He grabbed her in another deep kiss, and if Lily hadn’t promised her coach she would be there soon, she would have stripped off her shirt right there and then. It took her a few minutes, but when she finally had enough strength to pull away from his tempting kisses, she leaned her forehead into his chest. He wrapped his strong arms around her, and Lily wanted to melt again, but instead pulled away.

“I’ll let you go,” James murmured, walking backwards to the bedroom. Lily followed him, laughing as he made a show of putting his clothes back on. A few minutes later, they were standing at the door. Lily went on her tiptoes again to kiss him but pulled back before his fingers could persuade her to ditch her meeting.

James cleared his throat, running one hand through his hair. “I uh, left my number on a notepad in the kitchen. Text me, yeah?”

Lily grinned. “Yeah. I’ll text you.”

He opened the door, gave her one last kiss, and walked down the hallway, leaving Lily with just enough time to get ready. She briefly checked her phone, sending a quick message to her friends who were (understandably) losing their minds at their unanswered texts, then madly dashed around her apartment to grab her gear before heading out the door.

She was glad she didn’t have a lot of time to think or let her friends put ideas in her head. But still, as she went through practice, she had a hard time staying focused, trying to craft a perfect text message in her head.

In the end, she settled with a simple “hey, it’s evans”.

--

also on ao3

[tyrantofthefirmament]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE: MUN & MUSE

fill out & repost ♥ this meme definitely favors canons more, but i hope oc’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. multimuses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

tagged by Stolen from: @warlordratchet​​ tagging: everyone!

MY MUSE IS.   canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless

is your character popular in the fandom?  YES / NO.

is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK.

is your character considered strong in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK.

are they underrated?  YES / NO.

were they relevant to the main story?  YES / NO.

were they relevant to the main character?  YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG.

are they widely known in their world?  YES / NO.

how’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL.

HOW STRICTLY DO YOU FOLLOW CANON?

I consider everything presented in the aligned canon as my Starscream’s canon backstory, but his current story diverges after the end of TFP and does not follow RiD. I made up stuff to fill in the gaps and tried to make it fit in well. Where there are contradictions in the Aligned canon (as happens frequently), I consider the novels Exodus and Exiles to be the most canon, followed by TFP, followed by the comics and video games. The Covenant of Primus or any other materials published after the beginning of season 3 of TFP are a secondary canon that I only pick and choose from, because they retconned and threw out the original story bible and setup, an action I didn’t care for. 

SELL YOUR MUSE! (aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutual.)

Starscream is a walking roller coaster of emotions. His contradictions make him unpredictable, as he tries to navigate a world which would prefer to write him off as at best a cautionary tale, but whose future he still believes he has a right to shape. He craves relevance and recognition, but he’ll settle for infamy if pushed away too much. He misses the mech he was before he was broken, but seldom admits it to himself, and doesn’t want anyone else to know he’s struggling. Even though he’s trying to be on his best behavior, he still believes scheming and murder are perfectly viable solutions to most problems.

NOW THE OPPOSITE! (list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?)

Starscream is a paranoid and self-centered individual, so it can be hard to find reasons he’d engage with other muses. He’s a stubborn old butthead, is what I’m saying.

The fandom (and show writers) often reduce him to a one-note, weak character who needs others to step in for him, or whose motivations are simply power grabs. I don’t think he’s like that at all. His power grabs are intricate and his relationship with the idea of power (and powerlessness) is as tragic as it is fascinating.

WHAT INSPIRED YOU TO RP YOUR MUSE?  

Never in the history of fiction has a great character been so screwed over and tossed aside as TFP Starscream. The end of Predacons Rising left wounds for me that fanfic couldn’t heal, so I decided to give him a future worthy of such an interesting character. I wanted to keep him around, basically, and see where he could go if given a chance.

WHAT KEEPS YOUR INSPIRATION GOING?

I have a ton of ideas for him and endless “what if” scenarios to explore. He’s so much fun and never grows boring. I like that he can be serious or silly, sympathetic or a total asshole. He has boundless potential but he’s his own worst enemy. It kind of makes him hard to write at times, but there’s never any lack of ideas. Usually there’s too many and I take forever to settle on what he should do.

SOME MORE PERSONAL QUESTIONS FOR THE MUN.

do you think you give your character justice?  YES / NO.

do you frequently write headcanons?  YES / NO.

do you sometimes write drabbles? YES / NO.  

do you think a lot about your muse during the day? YES / NO.

are you confident in your portrayal?   YES / NO.

are you confident in your writing?  YES / NO.

are you a sensitive person?  YES / NO / DEPENDS

DO YOU ACCEPT CRITICISM WELL ABOUT YOUR PORTRAYAL? 

Yes but I prefer it to be relevant to my specific portrayal. Like there are times I know I’ve made him bend out of character to make a thread move along, so that would be something I’d take criticism on, so I could figure out ways to do that more smoothly. I don’t take criticism like “you’d get more interaction if you RPed ships”, which I thankfully haven’t seen in ages. People seem to have accepted my aro-ace birb and his eternal bachelorhood.

DO YOU LIKE QUESTIONS, WHICH HELP YOU EXPLORE YOUR CHARACTER?  

I crave them with every fiber of my being.

IF SOMEONE DISAGREES TO A HEADCANON OF YOURS, DO YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY?  

Not really. Everyone has different headcanons, so I’d be shocked if we all agreed. That’s kinda the point of headcanons. That being said, it is sometimes fun to discuss and debate different ones.

IF SOMEONE DISAGREES WITH YOUR PORTRAYAL, HOW WOULD YOU TAKE IT? 

Like a champ. I don’t mind if someone disagrees, though I would wonder why they felt a need to bring it up. There’s a bunch of Starscream blogs out there, so hopefully they’d be able to find one that suits their fancy.

IF SOMEONE REALLY HATES YOUR CHARACTER, HOW DO YOU TAKE IT?

It’s funny, but I actually take hate of me and my writing waaaayyyy less personally than I take hate toward actual canon TFP Starscream. I hate the way people talk about him and dismiss him and tear him down. Like. It genuinely upsets me. Leave my bird son alone! When people direct hate towards me I kinda drink anon tears tbh. I don’t mind it, usually, and I can be as snarky as my muse.

ARE YOU OKAY WITH PEOPLE POINTING OUT YOUR GRAMMATICAL ERRORS?  

I’d be fine with that. I’m good at grammar but not so good at typing, so if my brain goes faster than my fingers and I screw up, please let me know so I can fix it! In fact as I typed this very answer I skipped no fewer than three entire words, and it’s not that long of an answer!

DO YOU THINK YOU ARE EASY GOING AS A MUN?  

Most of the time. I know it probably doesn’t seem like it if you read my rather lengthy and specific rules, but I do give people the benefit of a doubt and I’m pretty friendly (but shy and terrible at remembering to return messages)

[nyanzaya]

SHIPPING INFO | ABOUT MUN. REPOST DON’T REBLOG

✧ WHAT’S YOUR OTP FOR YOUR MUSE ? I have a few! One that doesn’t even exist but I wish it did was Iza/Sin. My current OTP though that’s real is Iza/Shizuo (@paronomasianist) because they are so gay together and it makes me so happy to have Shizuo and Iza together like it’s just ahhh. 

✧ WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO RP WHEN IT COMES TO SHIPPING ?

Just about anything? I’m down for sex-buddies, I’m down for one-sided unrequited love things, I‘m down for a toxic relationship though I don’t condone the behavior in real life relationships. I’ll even go as far as for like, a pet/master relationship/ship but that one is a little iffy with me if I don’t know the person asking every well, but if it’s planned out and we talk about it a lot then I would be fine with it. 

✧ HOW LARGE DOES THE AGE GAP HAVE TO BE TO MAKE IT UNCOMFORTABLE ?

For me it would have to be if it’s a kid and an adult? Like no no no lol it’s just makes me so anxious thinking about that because I don’t even know? Considering Iza is like 27, I think the youngest I would be comfortable shipping with is like, 20? 19 is pushing it a little though and then the oldest, probably like 40 or 42? 

✧ ARE YOU SELECTIVE WHEN SHIPPING ?

I don’t think I’m that selective? Iza himself is really horrible when it comes to relationships because he is that kind of person who is so loved deprived that if your muse shows him a little love or praise or affection he would latch onto it and not let it go at all? 

✧ HOW FAR DO STEAMY MOMENTS HAVE TO GO BEFORE THEY’RE CONSIDERED NSFW?

For me I start putting my responses under a read more if it goes anywhere under the belt or if touches and kisses gets way too affectionate lol and because of how I am when I write more than likely my replies might go under a read more very quick if I feel it’s not appropriate for people to see lol, like if there is too much moaning and stuff like that--

✧ WHO ARE OTHER MUSES YOU SHIP YOUR MUSE WITH ?

Oh gosh lol, I ship Iza with @the-raven-informant at least in the werecat! verse because it’s just “Aww!” The relationship is pretty cute if you take away the murderous intent of Iza since like, he does hunt a lot of things v.v. Hmm, a lot of my shipping partners are not active anymore sadly, so there isn’t much anyone else.

✧ DOES ONE HAVE TO ASK TO SHIP WITH YOU ?

This one really depends! I would say yes, only because it depends on how many threads/how long the threads are? If we have a lot of threads and the chemistry is there then I probably already low-key ship it lol but if it’s a fresh thread with maybe two or three replies it would be a little hard for me to say yes or no

✧ HOW OFTEN DO YOU LIKE TO SHIP ?:

I LOVE SHIPPING? Especially if the chemistry is there. By chemistry I mean like, the feelings of mutual respect and affection, though it depends on the ship since it could also be very hate-filled and be horrible but I would be like “I ship it because if they actually get together they would have to work it out”

✧ ARE YOU SHIP OBSESSED OR SHIP MORE-OR-LESS ?

I like to think I’m ship obsessed, and I might be? But I try not to be like, if someone makes a ship with me just expect a ton of quotes because I will find a ton for the ship. Even unrequited ships I would do the same! It depends on the relationship for sure lol

✧ ARE YOU MULTISHIP ?

I am multi-ship! Though at one point I was thinking of being single-ship because of how thought-obsessed Iza is with Sinzuo and he is like so gone it’s just sad to see him think about Sin so much but right now, yes, I’m multi-ship and if we ship I’ll think of a tag for us so they can be in their own verse!

✧ WHAT ARE YOUR FAVORITE SHIP(S) IN YOUR CURRENT FANDOM ?

I don’t really get the question, like with my muse or just in general? Lol but for the sake of the question, I have to say my fave ship for Iza is, with Shizuo or even Sinzuo. My favorite ship in the fandom is Shizaya because I’m trash, but also like, Izanami, varona and Shizuo, I just...put everyone together honestly. 

✧ FINALLY, HOW DOES ONE SHIP WITH YOU ?:

Make a lot of threads with me or have the thread we currently have get long just to get the feel of the interaction and talk to me about it! The only limitations of course is Iza himself because he is just too gay for anything else unless it’s platonic then hell yeah

TAGGING: @dreadfularrow @starbrosforever @beaniesandblackcoffee @perspextivexx @paronomasianist TAGGED BY: @thislovelylady (I hope it’s like okay to tag you in this since the thing said ‘anyone who sees this; lol a ;dskjfafd  *Lays down)

[heideggirl]

bad arguments people make on the internet, part I

maybe this is the first of many rants, or maybe it’ll be my only rant, but I often think how useful it would be to have a catalog of responses to bad internet arguments at the ready, so that instead of making them over and over I can just send them to people and move on with my life. (it would also be very therapeutic to write them out! ) 

the first (and maybe only) bad argument I'll take up is the argument of the form “you have spoken/written/published about Y; therefore, you think X is unimportant.” examples: why are you writing about graduate workers and their unionization struggles when you could be writing about less privileged groups of workers? it must be because you think people in the latter group are NOT IMPORTANT and their suffering DOES NOT MATTER. why are you writing and reading about ANTI-BLACK RACISM but NOT ANTISEMITISM? it must because you hate the Jews and think the Holocaust is NOT IMPORTANT YOU TRAITOR-TO-YOUR-PEOPLE-JERK. 

caveats: 

first, the arguments I make are about individuals, not institutions. it is certainly true that if a university has classes about Jewish studies but not ethnic studies, that is a problem and evidence of wrong-doing of some kind, because university administrators (and other institutional figures) have special responsibilities. I won’t get into the institutional question here, except to say that my arguments don’t really apply to these kinds of cases. 

second, it is true that sometimes when someone writes about one thing, but not about something else you’d expect them to care about if they were earnestly reflecting on the former thing, their motives become suspect. so, if you are very interested in what’s wrong with “cancel culture,” but you are completely uninterested in ending at-will employment, that represents at least an error in judgment if not evidence of outright bad faith. (if you have opposed ending at-will employment, that’s evidence of either logical failure or extreme bad faith.) I couldn’t explain when exactly to be suspicious of someone (at least not here), and I certainly think sometimes the evidence strongly supports suspicion. but arguments of this form--you talked about x, so you think y doesn't matter!--are wielded all the time against people in a range of contexts, and often they are stupid.  

responses to this argument/alternative explanations for why people would write about X and not Y (at least on one or two occasions):

1. it’s just not true that focusing on one thing for the span of one discussion means you don’t care about other things, much less that you think they are objectively less important. for instance, a person could write a personal essay about the death of her mother. in doing so, she wouldn’t be implying that she thinks the death of her mother is more important than the pandemic; if pushed, she probably wouldn’t say that she thinks that; the pandemic is just not the subject of her essay. it is possible to think multiple things are bad at once. it is even possible to think X is worse than Y, but to find oneself, for whatever reason, more drawn to writing about Y (more on some possible reasons for writing about Ys below). 

it is actually good that essays aren’t about everything, since an essay that were about everything would be pretty confusing. moreover,  it is okay to have a special investment in a topic you have some personal relationship to (e.g., to have a special affection for your union, or your mother). this is an important aspect of being human. it doesn’t and shouldn’t preclude also caring about people very different from you to whom you have no connection, but luckily it isn’t incompatible with doing so. 

2. if you are an academic or a writer, you are not trying to say as many true things as possible rather to say something new and interesting. in fact you have to do this in order to publish an academic paper. so you might choose to focus on, e.g., your union, about which little has been written, rather than unions in general, about which a ton has been written. example: in analytic philosophy, there has been comparatively little written about what makes at-will employment wrong, and there has been a lot written about what makes murder wrong. in choosing to write a paper about what makes at-will employment wrong, a person is not implying that she thinks murder is less wrong or less important. she is just trying to say something new--to fill a gap. 

3. this is related to--but not identical with--(2): some people (like me) feel more compelled to write about something and think about something when they don’t understand it yet. this means that I write and think more about things I'm not sure about than about things I am sure about. I feel sure that women are human beings. this isn't to say I could write an awesome philosophy paper about it (or about anything really) but is to say I don’t feel the kind of pressing curiosity about it that usually drives me to inquiry. I feel uncertain about, e.g., ‘cancel culture,’ so I feel more compelled to work through my confusions. (3) is related to (2) insofar as we often feel we understand things better because a lot has been written about them already. (although of course sometimes existing writing has the opposite effect. in my own case I find myself drawn to topics about which there isn’t a lot written yet.) 

this brings us, again, to a question implicitly raised in (2) about what public-ish and public platforms are for. are they for making interesting/new contributions? saying the truest stuff as many times as possible? expressing what you happen to be thinking about that day? talking to your friends? different platforms are for different things. magazines and academic journals are for saying new and interesting stuff. some activist platforms are and should be for saying true stuff over and over. social media for private citizens can be--and during mass-quarantine must be--in part about chatting with your friends about what you’re thinking about that da. because I'm not a celebrity or an activist or a person who holds public office, I use social media to raise questions that are actually preoccupying me. that means I talk less about things I'm sure about, and so less about things I might regard as more morally obvious or even more morally important. i don’t want to talk about, e.g., how women are people because I don’t have a lot to say about it besides “this strikes me as obvious.” whereas I have a lot to say--really, to ask--about “cancel culture.” (is it an issue? what is the issue? etc.)

4. finally, when it comes to social media, there is the question of context and audience. some people are posting primarily for the benefit of their bigoted family members, which means they think it is important to emphasize the kinds of things you would want to emphasize if you had a five-minute segment on CNN. that makes sense. other people have different audiences and so different aims. for instance, most of the people I interact with on social media are leftist writers and thinkers who agree with me about almost everything. this means that I am not primarily concerned to talk them into leftism or educate them about it. I don’t need to convince them to support Bernie because they already do. my goals, then, are (a) to learn from them, and (b) to challenge them to be consistent (as well as to just talk about whatever is on my mind, since at least some of my social media is primarily for my actual friends). 

these are some reasons why people might write about Y instead of X in a range of contexts without thinking or meaning to imply that Y is more important than X. there are probably a lot more. 

WhOooooOOOOOOooooo

[prosenkhans]

Your body is not a temple. It’s an amusement park. Enjoy the ride.

It had to be the Salt Fish & Ackee. And the fried chicken. Of course the fuckin’ fried chicken.

Bourdain called Miss Ollie’s a taste of the “shiny, new Oakland”. You don’t see many tourists here, thank goodness, but the air of gentrification is present. Considered “Downtown Oakland”, you got the not-so-middle-class 20-30s something transplants messing about, bumping head long into 5th generation locals with A’s paraphernalia dangling from twin strollers. You’re just as likely to have a conversation with a person drinking craft IPA out of a laser etched glass to a person brown bagging a St. Ides 40 oz, chasing it with a Hennessy flat bottle they bury deep in their back pocket. It’s a normal thing here. The modern pressing against the traditional. “New money” and the “old school” of things. The social and economic divide that is prevalent so much here in the Bay Area. And still, the willingness by most to close that gap. The whole idea of “who’s town is this” will not be settled tonight. No. There is fish to be eaten. Chicken to be dunked in batter, fried golden, and devoured without utensils. People seem happy enough. Why not? The game is about to start.

It’s about 5:15 PM. The restaurant has yet to open for their dinner shift. And that is where I find myself, in an awkward situation as per usual, waiting in front of a door and peering into a kitchen staff hastily prepping for a Friday night. The idea was to order food and get the fuck home. I did not want to be around IF the Dubs won game 4 (they did). Not that I don’t enjoy a rowdy drunken crowd. Well I don’t actually. Not any more. Besides it wasn’t my victory, it wasn’t my team. Celebrating another’s victory just didn’t seem right, lighting fireworks and screaming in glee whilst turning over cars. Those aren’t my fireworks. I didn’t earn the drunken mob mentality to vandalize vehicles. I just didn’t want to be a buzz kill. No no. No, the only reason I stood there was because I wanted that damn salt fish and chicken! It had been a long day, made longer and mentally uncomfortable by learning that Bourdain had killed himself. No. Get the food, go home, take my pants off and sit on the couch and not so gently devour this stuff. Call it a half ass homage to the man whilst giving me some quiet time to really come to terms with all the thoughts running in my head. Oh and there was whiskey there. Pre-bought whiskey. Lots of it. Which undoubtedly has lead to this ranting essay.

When one writes shit like this it's impossible to avoid IT. The cliches, the flowery anecdotes, the over simplifications, and the glorifications of the recently passed individual. The stuff comes up because it's what we think about. However, I will say this. It a given family and friends are impacted most by a loss. Duh. Condolences, prayers up, what have you. It’s stating the obvious. What I think is escaping a lot of people is maybe we are never as close to someone we would like to think. We may love them. We may relate, appreciate, respect, and even be exceptionally close to them. But it’s becoming more and more evident to me that that UNDERSTANDING is a solo endeavor practiced by individuals specifically for their own self awareness.

We share only what we want people to see of us.

The word I most associate with Bourdain is “natural”. I know most people will go on and talk about his knowledge of the culinary world and his appreciation for amazing food. They’ll talk about his worldy travels and his willingness to immerse himself in the truest space of a city/country’s culture. People applaud and as well they should. Bourdain became the totem for all people with an ever growing sense of wanderlust. The question is why? There are plenty of who know food and culture and travel the world. Hell there are TONS of people on TV that do it and are dull as shit. So why Bourdain? Why is he, now that he is gone, ever so much more deified by those who wish to see our lives as 1/17th compelling as what he lived on screen? He was a natural. Or better yet, a “compelling natural asshole”. Yeah, that’s better.

First and foremost Bourdain was an artist. All of his shows went WELL beyond the norm of his contemporaries. In hindsight, his OG shows and the times in which he filmed them, they were damn near revolutionary. As budgets increased and skills got better, it became less so of an educational eating/travel show but more so of a docu-series of a man living in various moments. A man given the opportunity to perform a “dream job” and knowing fully well how damn lucky he was. Secondly, he was a writer. A good one. People will try to quote him in eulogy these days, but I find it hard to really pare it down. His shows were written so well that it felt like a never ending fount of inspiration meme fodder. Just Google it, you’ll see. And last, he was “cool”. And in the non pretentious type way. We just seemed like what he said, what he wore, what music was playing, hell what type of pop-cultural factoids he would equally praise and lacerate came not from a “marketing analysis report”, but a genuine opinion from a man who seemed unconcerned about the camera in his face.

What I can say is the dude gave off a vibe that drew people in. Or at least thats what he wanted to put out in the world.

I had to wait 15 minutes before I could order. Fuck. Hungry. I was starving at that moment. So even though I was annoyed and rather irritable after such a long and mentally draining day, I made my normally anti-social self do something Bourdain may have approved of. I mingled with strangers. Oh and I bought a beer. And a sausage. Of course a sausage.

Rosamunde’s was getting more crowded as the start of the game grew closer. People in their blue and gold, some with NBA Champion 2018 hats already on, even though the game hadn’t even started yet. Weird. But I made my way up to the shop keep and got my tube of meet and glass of malted hops. Yum. So with 10 minutes to kill I engaged in polite conversation with 2 gents hugging the wall. They were cousins, one local and other from LA. Of course naturally the conversation lead to basketball and the probability that all the people in this restaurant would be drunk off victory and tequila by nights end. They would be. It was a consensus. I wont prattle on about the specifics of the conversation, but within that short 10 minutes I found myself bouyed by their energy. They knew the good times to come, and they were eager to get there. And in that moment, they seemed genuinely happy. As the clock drew closer to the half hour, I started to excuse myself from the conversation. “Just stay, man! We gunna win, and then we’re gunna celebrate!” But I couldn’t. So with one last “Salanche!” (I had to teach them that Irish word), I bid them good evening and their team good luck. It wasn’t my place. Not right now. Besides, fried chicken awaited!

As I stepped away, a smile on my face, a thought in my head. Its natural when someone you admire leaves, especially in such a manner. People will focus more the WHY than anything else. I’ve resigned myself to a simple truth. We DO NOT know what anyone else is thinking. To say we UNDERSTAND another individual so completely that we can approximate their feelings, intent, and mannerism is foolhardy. It's arrogant. If there is anything that I’ve learned from Bourdain is this simple truth.......You don’t know shit. So stop guessing. Try and actually gain knowledge of, well everything. It simple requires effort and openness. And sometimes the willingness to look foolish and fall on your face.

I place my order with the lovely lady. No menu required. I knows what I want. I order a Mauby for the wait. “It’ll be like 10 minutes. You’re the first to order,” she says with a smile. I’m pretty sure she thinks my fatass is ordering for 2. Ha, oh well. I drink my weird soda and wait. And try not to dwell on the WHY.

I’ll simply state that I appreciate what Bourdain CHOSE to show us. All of it. Watch an episode of any of his shows, there is something unique about it. In every episode, Bourdain will turn from cocky asshat, to worldly listener, to foody goofball, to hipster hating old man, to a poetic soul, to an appreciated world travel, to an unwilling celebrity. There will be a facet of all those personas in each show. Every. Single. One. Now I can say that what he CHOSE to show us was a 61 year old man, full of success within a career that any of us would envy. A father of an 11 year old girl who did seemed truly proud of her developing into a full fledged human. A man who found passion and love in this “late” phase of life. A man who has grown healthier and wiser. A man, while still driven, seemed content with it all. And it apparently wasn’t. At all. So people can keep asking WHY all they want. I choose to look at it in a much more cynical view. If Bourdain, the master of the world, chose to exit it in such a state, where does that leave us?

It’s a sad thought that unicorns don’t exist.

7 swigs into my cane sugar soda, all the tables are filled. The room is bustling and the noise level increases. Smiling faces, happy banter. There is an energy in the air. But even in this moment, surrounded by the humanity, I felt alone. Lost in my own thoughts.

Bourdain once said he was “addicted to celebrity”. He wouldn’t have been as successful as he was did he not have the drive and arrogance to achieve it. Still, one would think that being placed upon a pedestal as a cultural and generational icon would become waring. On top of the 250 days of travel, he was Anthony fuckin’ Bourdain all the damn time. People see you and may potentially be expecting a life altering moment, a chance to be inspired by a simple word or action. They think they know you. And that’s with the cameras off. Even when they were rolling there are times where it is evident Bourdain was uncomfortable in his own skin. That he was crossing the velvet rope where he knew he shouldn’t. Where he was torn between enjoying a meal given to him by custom and his reluctance to be so decadent when there are impoverished families just feet away. We see a misfit become potentially what he never saw himself being. A standard bearer, a bougee VIP. A man who inspired a legion, a world of people to open their minds and hearts to other cultures through food and drink, through conversation over a meal. To take the back alley, and skip the IHOP on Main St. Ask a stranger where to get a drink instead of a guide book. To eat something you can’t pronounce. To let go of forethought and allow yourself to take the moment in. By doing so he became accepted as the norm, as how a utopian world should be. And while I hope he is proud to some degree for showing the world a new way to think, a part of me questions that by becoming a living legend, he lost that “outsider rebel” aspect of himself, his persona. That misfit.

The bell rings. My order is ready. The young lady puts everything in a bag. 2 sets of utensils. “I knew it,” I mutter to myself. “Did you say something honey?” she asks. “No,” I chuckle slightly. She smiles and turns her head to give me the inquisitive side eye. “Are you happy with everything,” she asks whimsically. I look down, and smell the food. I smile. “Yeah. Right now I am.”

So as I sit at home writing this, the last of the Ackee scrambled across my plate, I do feel a sense of sadness, but certainly appreciation. To Mr. Anthony Bourdain. I can only say “thanks”. I truly doubt we will know his full impact on society until years, generations later. But in this moment, I thank you. I probably wouldn’t have eaten this fish and chicken without him. And that in itself is worth a toast. Solanche, mutha fucker.