#also my therapist says crying over fictional men WHO LOVE ME BY THE WAY is a healthy coping mechanism so 🥰🥰

[mandiemegatron]

Girl......... your crying over a fictional guy? /: yeah I'm going to unfollow you...... that shit is weird as fuck. Get some help.

Girl... you're*

[poppywriter]

❀ Pansy n°8 = Who are my / our Husbandos ?

*sigh*

You know how therapists say - at least tiktok ones :/ - that to be ready for a relationship you have to break off your imaginary ones first ? Well for me - and many people I’m sure - it is complicated to say goodbye to thousand that much fictive lives and lovers… Especially when it’s the only way I get to fall asleep, making up fake scenarios.

I dream so much about love, I’ve got to have it in some way, no ? Be it with fictional characters, celebrities, voice actors or even made up characters, I have to dream about a significant other loving up on me. Am I exposing myself too much ? Yes, yes I am … :/ But, f*ck it.

It is really easy to imagine a life with a celebrity as they are public personalities and we know so much about their lives. Too much… Moreover, your brain - and heart - does not make the difference between real people and fictional ones. That’s why you can feel truly heartbroken when a character you’ve grown attached to is sad or dies. Real or not, it makes no difference when emotions are thrown into the mix…

→ The way I realized this was true is pretty embarrassing but I’ll tell you anyway… I was young - around 17 - and in a big as well as deep spiderman / Tom Holland period. So much that it was concerning… :/ Then, pictures of Zendaya and Tom kissing came out and their relationship was outed. And… *sigh* My first reaction was crying. I felt heartbroken but mostly pathetic and embarrassed to be affected so much by it. I was disgusted by myself, because I was crying over something - someone - that had nothing to do with me. Yet it was a true awakening. After that I stopped - or at least I think I did :/ - to get THIS attached to my dumb celebrity crushes.

It also made me realize something really important.

We don’t know who our celebrity crushes are, not really. What we see of them is only through media, dramas, speculations… Their images are controlled and a source of income for many - *cough cough* paparazzis :/. Sadly, they don’t have the chance to live freely, away from camera lenses…

And we, their fandom, play a part in their objectification. It’s important to know that the person we have a crush on, write fictions about and obsess over is a made up version of them. It’s only how we picture them, how we’d like them to be. Not how they are, because we don’t know. We can’t know. And we shouldn’t, because they have a right to privacy.

We don’t know them, exactly how they don’t know each one of us.

So now, I see it more like having a crush on a fictional character. Because that’s what they become. They have made up lives and personalities. It’s fake, it’s fictional. And it’s okay. I think it’s better than knowing every detail and overstepping boundaries in their busy and stressful lives. It might be okay to admire and be attracted to them, but it definitely isn’t if we don’t respect that they stay humans and that in their place we wouldn’t want our lives to be invaded by strangers.

Nevertheless, drawing this conclusion makes me feel even more lonely. Plus, all these imagination filled scenarios definitely don’t help to have a realistic idea of love. I feel bound to be disappointed by life and love - especially by men :/. That’s the problem with overthinking, dreaming and projecting too much… You always end up falling from the high cloud you set yourself on.

Maybe one day I’ll find “the one” - whoever it may be or if they even exist. Only time will tell, for now I’ll try and deal with the loneliness.

✿❀✿

🔺Original work please do not steal or copy, Thanks.🔺

[i-am-extremely-mad]

Discussion I have on YouTube under video 'A Mediocre Recap of Mediocre Alternate History Shows' from AlternateHistoryHub

Sir Reginald Meowington 1 month ago Uh-oh here comes the Korra Stans. Back to the topic, I feel that some of the people who worked on Fringe most likely worked on Man in the High Castle. It's too early similar or they are Fringe fans.

Extreme Madness 1 month ago (edited) Becase she wasn't Mary Sue... an argument that ignores the original meaning and is actually used against any female character that shows even hints of self-confidence or arrogance or is even better at something than male characters. Aang learned and became a master of all four elements in less than 9 months, almost constantly dominating his opponents, somehow people don't consider him Mary Sue, Korra who spent 13 YEARS! of intense training, and despite that still could not airbending, struggling in fighting opponents who have some superior abilities, ended up in a wheelchair, recovered for more than three years from mental and physical trauma ... somehow it makes her Mary Sue, if she was a male character no one would even thought of considering him a Mary Sue...

Sir Reginald Meowington 1 month ago ​@Extreme Madness I like how you automatically assume that I dislike Korra out of misogyny or a hidden agenda despite enjoying female characters like She-Hulk, Wonder Woman, Rogue, Big Barda, Phoenix, Zarya (Overwatch), and Noi (Dorohedoro). Basically, women who fight like men and have the muscles/powers to prove it. There is a reason why I dislike Goku, Wolverine, Batman, and similar characters. Nice try on attempting to find a non-existent bias. When it comes to a wheelchair recovery story I prefer Barbara Gordon's journey and triumph to become Batgirl again, over Korra's lackluster 10-minute portrayal. There was more emotional weight seeing Barbara doing normal mundane tasks like eating, showering, attempting to walk (after failing numerous times), and talking to a therapist about her trauma in the course of several issues than it was for Korra getting a quick fix in one episode. Korra isn't a well-written character and it shows. She never has to own up to her mistakes like the time she broke up with Mako by wrecking his desk and threatening him for doing the right thing. Does she apologize for her behavior in the police station? Never. Did she apologize when seducing Mako so he can cheat with Asami or apologizes to Bolin for using him as a way to get Mako? Never. Does she apologize to Tenzin for yelling at him for being a horrible teacher? The story forgets it. Do any characters tell Korra she is making the wrong decision or that her going in fists first will cause more damage and be proven right. Nope. Was Korra shown to be wrong when wanting to create a fictional Gulf of Tonkin incident to get the United Nations in a war with the Northern Watertribe as careless and harmful? No. The plots dictate that she can never be wrong even when it could potentially put people in danger. Korra is given fixes too quickly. She gets her bending taken away. That's interesting. We can see her work through her anger, hurt, and self-delusion, Oh nope sorry she gets it back 5 minutes later after crying about it. Oh no she lost the past Avatars. Why should Korra care? She never talked to them or formed a relationship with any of them similar to Aang and Roku. Oh wow, she is disabled are we going to get two or three episodes where she deals with her new life in a wheelchair including how mundane tasks are now a struggle? Sorry, we don't get time for that or life-long PTSD, we have to rush the plot because we can't understand how to tell a story in 12 episodes. You can also tell how much of a fetish they have for brutalizing Korra and show it in meticulous detail. Ah yes, this is what I asked for more man pain and people wonder why I hate Wolverine.

Extreme Madness 3 weeks ago (edited) @Sir Reginald Meowington Even if everything you said was true (it isn't), that's still argument against her being Mary Sue (character that supposed to be ridiculously perfect and not having flaws and weaknesses).  Her being in wheelchair was just part of her slow recovery through entire season (she didn't recover immediately, she was in wheelchair for months, while trying to walk again, and after that she was still recovering for 3 years). How is she guilty for Mako cheating? He have his own agency. If he really loved Asami he could just said that he wasn't interested. Korra give up to be with Mako anyway when she became friend with Asami, she even ask Mako to go to Asami after they escape from her father. Everything after that was on him.  She didn't use Bolin to get Mako, she just go out with him to have fun. Bolin was the one who mistakenly thought that they are on date. Mako was technically right when he stop Korra attend, but he still did that behind her back, she was right to be angry, especially when it was desperate attempt to save her tribe from occupation. Isn't she apologized to Tenzin when she come back after learning what her uncle trying to do.

Sir Reginald Meowington 3 weeks ago @Extreme Madness "Even if everything you said was true (it isn't)," Talk about denialism there. I don't like the evidence you presented to me therefore it is not true. That doesn't refute anything I have said or why it's problematic. That just tells me you don't like any argument presented to you therefore everything you don't like is false or a lie. Just a reminder Korra isn't right to create a Gulf of Tonkin situation and starting a war will cost the lives of citizens who are unaffiliated with the conflict. (Looks at Vietnam and Spanish American War) It is not right for a high ranking member (General Iroh) to create a situation that leads to justification for war. You know what happens with that right? Court Martial and possible execution. We have whistleblower laws for a reason. Apologizing isn't enough. The writers should known better and have everyone call her out for it. It's the biggest reason why Korra is problematic in the show. The writers have no understanding of writing Korra or any political ideologies (Everyone ranting how Amon is communist is using red-baiting arguments) present in the show that they flaunt to make them appear edgy and mature. It's why Korra comes out bad for forcing a kiss on Mako and telling him "Yeah, but when you're with her, your thinking about me, aren't you?", never apologizing to Bolin for cheating only Mako apologized, having her disabilities skipped because they don't know how to scope within 12 episodes (Barbara Gordon did it better and in less than 30 pages), Asami getting back with her dad was brought up last minute and then he is dead. Just because someone apologizes doesn't mean they deserve forgiveness. Especially not after destroying property damage over a fit. You do that and I get the restraining order.

Extreme Madness 1 week ago (edited) @Sir Reginald Meowington I actually started watch the show again and look at that, you are full of shit, Korra actually apologize to Tenzin for calling him terrible teacher in second episode of Book 1! Korra didn't use Bolin to get closer to Mako, that's what Mako accused Korra for, doesn't make it true, Korra was actually right about his feelings for her, and Korra literally apologize to Bolin while healing his arm in episode 5 for whole situation. About situation when she desperately trying to free southern water tribe from occupation, it's interesting how you blame entire situation on her and not at her uncle. She have every right to be frustrated. She make only few brash decisions, in most situations she listens and work with others like when she  listen Mako how they should save Bolin from Amon, she was doing that for the rest of the show, especially after she returns after having vision of Avatar Wan and learning what her uncle actually planning, in book 3 she surrender to Red Lotus so others can save Airbenders. About her recovery, you don't see the forest for the trees, her being in wheelchair was just part of her slow recovery, it wasn't only important part of it. When did Barbara Gordon stopped being Oracle? It's another lazy retcon from DC? DC couldn't work with other batgirls so they took one of rear example of superheroes with disabilities and make her somehow magically recover from spine cord injury. Lazy writing I'd say. Bad example. I will stay with Korra.

Extreme Madness 5 days ago @Sir Reginald Meowington "Does she apologize for her behavior in the police station? Never." I know you ignored my previous answers but ... Just a few days ago I watched the finale of Book 2 and look at that, Korra actually APOLOGIZED to Mako for that before they broke up! When you actually watch the show you see how many arguments arose from people who didn’t actually watch the show or didn’t pay attention to such important details.

Sir Reginald Meowington 5 days ago @Extreme Madness You lost all credibility when you put Barbara Gordon and Gail Simone under the bus to make Korra look good when a 10-minute google search into the story arcs and fan discussions regarding disabilities and whether or not she should walk again were ignored. Not to mention the decades of critiques and discussions of the event in The Killing Joke and the input of various writers who talked about it for decades in several series starting Barbara. Then you go by using ad-hominem attacks towards me by claiming I am a liar and that I don't watch the show. I quoted the episodes and the scene in the last comment that mysteriously disappeared including why that was problematic and how the show does not do a good job at addressing her faults. As mentioned before, apologizing after enacting violence against your partner during a break up is not enough. As I said when I addressed it, "Just because someone apologizes doesn't mean they deserve forgiveness. Especially not after destroying property damage over a fit. You do that and I get the restraining order." and this is the problem of the writers not understanding how to write Korra or her archetype. It is obvious she was sacrificed in the altar of man pain for character growth and the most abysmal love triangle since the Jean Grey/Scott Summers/Wolverine ship. It's the only reason why I started shipping Asami and Korra as I do with Jean Grey and Emma Frost due to the levels of toxicity. Of course, that would require you to have basic reading comprehension or understanding of social/political issues when moving the goal post so you don't have to address those ugly truths when questioning the romance even fans addressed was badly handled. So now you are trying to grasp at anything in an attempt to make yourself look good after calling you out about supporting a toxic relationship with a female abuser. But of course, it ain't toxic or bad when it's female on male. It's just for laughs.

Extreme Madness 5 days ago @Sir Reginald Meowington "apologizing after enacting violence against your partner during a break up is not enough" Originally you only claimed that she never apologized, which is a notorious untruth, now you claim that her apology is not enough, who here moving the goal post actually. "supporting a toxic relationship with a female abuser" What the hell are you talking about ?! Korra, abuser ?! Go fuck off. I also don't care about the convoluted mess that DC and Marvel comics are for which no one knows which continuum they follow anymore. So no I don’t want to see them as an argument.

Sir Reginald Meowington 5 days ago ​@Extreme Madness Saying they don't count as an argument because it is not your preference is a lame excuse to dismiss evidence regarding a comparison between two similar story arcs between Korra and Barbara. As for the other point It would be good of you to stop time traveling between comments and look at the entire picture of why throwing your partner's desk while they are at work during an argument is problematic. As defined by several resources that talk about relationship and spousal abuse.

It is not okay for your significant other to throw or breaks things when angry in front of you even if they have no intention of physically hurting you.

That is a person who is purposefully threatening you and reestablishing the power dynamics of control/dominance when their partner does something they do not like. That is a person with massive anger issues who is one step away from physically hurting you someday. It's a big red flag that you need to get out and it's only going to escalate from there. There is no excuse for that kind of behavior, no excuse for your partner to throw items in front of you, no excuse for them intimidating you, and no excuse for creating a scene or atmosphere of violence. That is damaging to the psyche of the person that it is enacted upon. In any situation, get out and contact the authorities immediately don't wait, especially if you feel you are in danger. Grab your things, file a protection order, and don't look back. Nobody should vent or release their anger at someone like that.

Ugh...

How do I answer this, they first claimed that Korra never apologized to anyone and that her recovery is worse than some completely different character who has nothing to do with her and now claims that Korra was abusive in her relationship with Mako. I don't know what to say anymore...

[invertedeidolon]

The Longest Library #3: Griffin & Sabine by Nick Bantock (Or, Eidolon again talks way too much about previous relationships, also, pretty art!)

(This is a series in which I attempt to read and review all (or most of) my library of 297 books.)

Rundown: Postcard artist Griffin Moss gets a weird letter from a weird lady who can apparently see what he's drawing telepathically. They form an ill concieved bond over it. The story is told in colorful postcards and envelopes you can open and then read the mysterious things inside. 4.5/5 for calling me THE FUCK OUT and having some BOMB ASS ART.

I can't give it a full 5 because not everyone is going to have that experience when they read this. It's just going to look very strange and floaty and things won't make very much sense. This book hits close to home with me because it heavily echoes (more like yells about) my first long distance relationship. I'm not really able to see this book through any other lens, so that's what my commentary is mostly about.

So for the part that ISN'T about that stuff though: The art is amazing. Even though it's made by one person technically, both fictional artists have their own, distinct style. Let's be real: The art and the interactivity is the main draw of this book. There are envelopes inside with letters carrying a myriad of little details: Griffin uses a typewriter for his long-form letters, and bits where he's crossed out typos or added in letters with pen, or that Sabine's correspondence is something I now recognize as someone who uses quills or manual dip pens. The inconsistency in the color of her writings suggests she's using a homemade ink, brownish in color, slightly too watery. Maybe it's even watered down watercolor and not even ink at all. They've also made the background of her letters and cards a rich dark gray, while Griffin's is a clean, sterile white.

"Will you explain to me about those geometric paintings you did at Art college? I want to understand their hidden language of color and shape. It's so alien to me."

So this is about the fourth time I'm reading this book since I first got it, and now that I have to write about it, I'm noticing so many more details. Here the line "It's so alien to me."is written in smaller, slightly more rounded letters. The ink is much darker here too, suggesting she wrote this slowly, thoughtfully. What a detail!

Anyway that's it for the objective bits of the book, the rest is entirely subjective from here on out.

"The phenomenon that links us has taught me much about you, yet I am ignorant of your history."

My years and years of suffering emotional abuse set me up to be able to read and predict what was going on in your head perfectly, as well as respond in the most helpful ways with eerie precision, yet I am ignorant of your history, and who you really are (because you use such obtuse floaty language and metaphor. Who were you really? Suffering, but that's about all I could tell.)

"Why doesn't this alarm me as much as it should?"

Because we're already "in". And I "feel safe" to you because I've been trained to be the least offensive, most placating being in the universe. If I could build a business model on conversational comfort, if I could sell my goddamn empathy like the capitalist machine really wants me to, *I'd be so rich*. It would be like, a step down from therapist. Anybody want a virtual friend for like an hour? Gimme 20 and we can watch stupid videos or I can calmly talk you through bread making. It's okay, you can cry. GOD PLEASE LET ME JUST SELL MYSELF SAFELY, I WAS MADE FOR THIS GODDAMNIT.

"I want to hear everything. Write in detail. Tell me all about yourself. I demand to know - please."

This is like fucking CRACK to those with a suppressed self. An unwitnessed self. "Someone who's interested in ME, and won't yell at, ignore, or dismiss me for talking! Holy fuck I love you!"

"Finally I knew who you were. I counselled myself to be cautious and find out what you were like before revealing myself fully."

Sabine at this point is to the reader who I was to Him. A weird mythical creature, the non-human monster of your lonely adolescent imaginings, who is intimately aware of your secrets, "I've been watching you" it says before introducing you to a wondrous world free of the pains of living, where you actually feel loved and all is well forever and ever. Except I wasn't as inhuman as I wished to be.

"Occasionally I'd come home to a re-enactment of The Battle of Britain in the front room. [...] My entrance would make no difference to their dogfight, but when one of them accidentally (and inevitably) knocked over a pile of books, they'd stop instantly and unite to examine the extent of the damage."

The whole 'making light of a not-great home life because it was your normal for so long that you still haven't learned that you need to be horrified about it' thing. As well as passing it off as something funny. Thankfully this character's parents (SPOILER?) get literally run over by a truck and he gets sent to live with his mom's step sister who is really good and lets him ditch school to become a potter's apprentice and eventually go to art college. He never really deals with the grief when the step sister dies, OBVIOUSLY.

"And hearing that my existence eased your pain made my heart race. We have found one another, and I give thanks."

Hearing that my existence wasn't going to be punished but instead, made someone happy? Fucking HEROIN. Downplay it a little with grateful gentleness, I don't want to be punished for being presumptuous or for seeming like I like it too much. If I like things too much they get destroyed, hard.

"My kinsmen are responsive to me - but there is no one to reach my heart, and you who are so far away, have been closer to me than any man on the Islands."

This is something I remember. So far all they've done is shared eachother's life stories and gushed about how close they feel now. She (like my past self), has confused the feeling of 'finally, a witness! they're witnessing me! I've been Seen!' with the feeling of attachment. Of course she would feel infinitely more attached to this man. She's witnessed his most private moments as a creator for a good portion of her life. It's been a mainstay throughout her adolescence through adulthood, so of course an unwarranted sense of intimacy is going to be attached to this mysterious figure. The whole thing wrapped up in a dream like sense of mysticism.

"I remember your first erotic drawing; I was trembling from head to foot by the time you'd finished. Was that Sarah? No don't answer; I'm only teasing."

...Unless? (Man the implications hurt to think about. I REMEMBER THIS FEELING. This author has unintentionally called me out. I wonder how much of Sabine’s writing is actually calm, or if she’s reigning herself in almost constantly?)

"I was finding it hard to get over the idea of there being other men in your life when I reached the part in your letter about my erotic drawings. I stopped being jealous. We were lovers and I hadn't realized it. The drawings weren't of Sarah; they were of you."

ow ow ow ow ow ow JUST SAY IT ow ow ow ow, Also, I REALLY wanted her to be like 'bitch that looks nothing like me, what the fuck', but instead she's all like "So you've been making love to me ten thousand miles away - how tantalizing." URGH. TOO CLOSE, TOO FAST. DISENTANGLE YOURSELVES NOW. GRIFFIN GET HELP.

"I had failed to understand how unhappy you are. You cover up with jokes and a front of being self-contained. I'm worried for you."

EVEN SHE SEES IT, GET HELP.

"When you found me, I thought my loneliness had gone for good. I was kidding myself. I desperately desire your company. I haven't talked to anyone in three days. I was sure I was going to start seeing your pictures like you see mine. I've tried so hard. [...] How can I miss you this badly when we've never met?"

BECAUSE YOU MISS HUMAN CONTACT AND YOU DON'T HAVE ANY FAMILY LEFT YOU NERD, GET HELP. DON'T HANG IT ON ONE PERSON WHO IS TOO FAR AWAY TO HELP YOU IN THE WAY YOU NEED.

"Island magic works on island souls. You and I will heal eachother."

ANTIDEPRESSANTS MAYBE UUUUGGGGHHHHH

"I've started to hate this city, this country, all these stupid fucking people [...] I finally snapped. [...] I want to know what you look like."

*HEAVILY RECOILS*

"Why, my kindred spirit, are you prepared to settle for a postcard of my face? If you wish to see me, why not come here? What is there to stop you - you're clearly unhappy where you are. Come."

Yes. I offered and I offered and I offered. What's to stop you from just fucking TALKING TO ME instead of DISAPPEARING OVER AND OVER AGAIN. and then COMPLAINING THAT YOU'RE SO HURT AND LONELY. I'M LONELY TOO. WHEN I HAD THE MONEY YOU DIDN’T TAKE MY OFFER FOR ME TO COME SEE YOU, SO WHAT THE FUCK IS UP KYLE?

"Foolish man. You cannot turn me into a phantom because you are frightened."

This kind of sentiment is what lead to the breakup. This feeling of being large, and dark, and slighted. Being real and supernatural. Make your choice. Say REAL words instead of just flagellating yourself. Do I exist to you?

"If you will not join me, then I will come to you."

Unfortunately, Sabine has what I definitely did not: Mobility, the ability to make things real. She had a job and money and her own life and the ability to travel. I had a shitty little shared room in my parent's house where I spent most of the time partially starved and dodging devils in one form or another. Many many times I wanted to spontaneously show up and give him the closeness that he needed. But I couldn't. And he wouldn't take my words. He wouldn’t take me.

3 down, 294 to go.

[dxmagedrose]

GET TO KNOW THE BLOGGER!

Tagged by: my lover @hammurabicomplex​ I’m tagging: anyone and everyone who wants to pick this one up! share with the class if you feel like it! tag me in it!!

PRESENTING. RANDOM DEEP DIVE WITH INDIGO-MUN AT 2AM ;

FIRST NAME Good fucking question… It’s (sort-of) currently Dylann! I was Kieran before that, though; it’s still used as one of my first names and I’m not used to Dylann quite yet bc I’ve just started using it. 

Indigo is one of my middle names though, and I’ve used it as an online handle elsewhere forever so I use it here now!  [ Fun etymology facts: Dylan(n) is a mythology name generally meaning “born of the wave” (aspiring diver & a water witch at heart). Kieran means “little dark one” bc of my love for horror, && I chose Indigo bc as a kid to be it was neither boy (blue) or purple (girl) and was both and neither as well as my absolute favorite color as this vibrant ass mystical color. ]

STRANGE FACT ABOUT YOURSELF hmmmmm…. I’m a horror lover at heart, so as a child (I wanna say 12), I was walking through an antique store (I have a few cool finds, I considered putting my other one as the fact tbh) and I turned the corner and I saw these two dolls staring back at me at the foot of the stairs of this antique building. my blood froze, and i felt my stomach drop. i got actual, physical goosebumps stumbling across these two creepy dolls staring back at me in the corner, and i couldn’t leave the store without them. perhaps the little painted porcelain boy would be somewhat spooky by himself if it wasn’t for the terrifying lidded gaze of the porcelain girl with the hairline fractures and slightly open lips. i cant look at her. i dont really find dolls scary, I like to find the spookier ones ones, and she makes me paranoid as hell. i keep her face covered and her up in my closet except for when i bring her out to show her off proudly as the spookiest thing I have but……. i dont really collect dolls anymore.  even thinking about her brings a fearful tear to my eye.  i don’t like to think about her for very long, but that’s why I’m so fucking proud to own her. ( YES — I’m THAT white person in the horror film )

TOP THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU FIND ATTRACTIVE ON A PERSON hhhhh a beardy jawline, high cheekbones, crooked canine teeth >:3c

A FOOD YOU COULD EAT FOREVER AND NOT GET BORED OF b.l.t.’s with avocado. ahhhh. my mouth is watering just thinking about it, oh my god. just a bit of salt and pepper???

A FOOD YOU HATE barbecue anything, i hate the taste of bbq sauce, you keep your nasty black goo to yourselves at the grill. twice in my life i have presented with barbecue pizza and both times i cried literal tears. why would you do such a horrible thing to a person? what kind of a monster are you? how do you sleep at night?!

GUILTY PLEASURE the sims. constantly. always. i’ve sunk thousands of hours into my households. oh also uhhhhhh i run two 80s horror blogs, one being a shitpost blog with occasional art of mine and one gremlin fanfic ship blog for horrible, terrible self indulgent fanfics i’ll get the courage to finish writing & post so i can be cancelled on tumblr for at some point. NO, i won’t link them. as i pretend they’re even all that hard to find, within a day i was found on both by someone i admire here a lot :’) ilu bby thnk u eternally for supporting ur local horrifying dumbass wtf

WHAT DO YOU SLEEP IN the same clothes i’ve been wearing all day usually, my sweats & long sleeve raglans or my hoodies. i like being cozy day & and out. and ugh. efoort. just throw me in a blanket in a cool room and im out.

SERIOUS RELATIONSHIPS OR FLINGS serious relationships with some openness or poly. i wish i could fling! just not exactly easy for demisexual autistics lmao.

IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN THE PAST AND CHANGE ONE THING ABOUT YOUR LIFE, WOULD YOU AND WHAT WOULD IT BE I think I would be adopted by my grandma as a kid. It would save me some trauma but mostly I think it would get my autism diagnosed way earlier and save me angsting all these years of wondering why & thinking it’s my fault I’m struggling so much and so loud and affectionate and different in a world that i didnt fit in the same way. 

ARE YOU AN AFFECTIONATE PERSON when i get drunk i text people how much they mean to me in my life. does that answer your question? ahhh. i’m sometimes a cuddle monster with friends, i message people with long texts about how much they mean to me, but I sometimes really don’t like to be touched at all. 

A MOVIE YOU COULD WATCH OVER AND OVER AGAIN FLYPAPER.  F L Y P A P E R.  FLYPAPER.  FLY, and, I can’t stress this enough, fucking PAPER. ( Though also Whole Nine Yards and both Re-Animator & Bride ). I have watched Flypaper already like, 5 times this week and I’m still not done, and the other movies have been on repeat for days in this household within the last year. In the past it has also been Donnie Darko & the new Nightmare on Elm Street.  roast me.

FAVORITE BOOK White Fang by Jack London. Have I actually ever finished it? No. Do I still own a copy I’ve had since childhood thru multiple dogs eating it, taking it to and from school, and highlighting and circling all the best parts of chapter one ever since I was a kid and it was too hard of a book for me to read? You bet your ass. If I ever need inspiration I just reread chapter 1. Although one of my other favorites was Broken Monsters by Lauren Beukes. But White Fang is like, a weirdly personal text. We stan London’s writing in this household.

YOU HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO KEEP ANY ANIMAL AS A PET, WHAT DO YOU CHOOSE FENNEC FOX!! I used to daydream about having my own named Shiloh when I was a lil kid. they’re adorable little things and i am obsessed. i mean, gimme any fox and im happy, marble foxes, red foxes… but I was obsessed with fennec foxes. Also tbh ferrets. I want a ferret.

TOP FIVE FICTIONAL SHIPS [IF YOU ARE AN RP BLOG, YOU CAN USE YOUR OWN SHIPS AS WELL] Rosa & @ninetyscnds‘s Luke, Rosa & @iimpulsivity is already screaming my name, Rosa & Constantine, Jesse & Andrea from Breaking Bad, and the joker and harley of 80s sci-fi Dan & Herbert from Re-Ani.  I am but a simple opossum. 

PIE OR CAKE Pie! I’ll take both pumpkin & melty apple over cake. also, cheesecake is more pie than cake soooo, pie wins.

FAVORITE SCENT my dogs / my blanket. :’)  It’s the most grounding smell in the world. 

CELEBRITY CRUSH oliver jackson-cohen, i’m fucking GAY and im angry about it. there i was, minding my own business, and i saw that asshole in a certain SHIRTLESS GIF and it AWOKE SOMETHING IN ME. dont talk to me about it, holy shit im obsessed with beardy men now god fuckkdafjaask i hate him why did he make me this gay i was perfectly fine being into girls but NOOOOOO him and his dumb hairy chest and sweet rugged face and I——  I also am obsessed with the archaeologist & television personality Josh Gates and may or may not be considering making a fan blog for him bc idk if my anthropology docuseries host is Dad or Daddy but i love him lots

IF YOU COULD TRAVEL ANYWHERE, WHERE WOULD YOU GO I would go on a dive with anthropologists and archaeologists doing fieldwork research in the ancient cenotes of the Yucatán Peninsula. My actual dream job, catch me crying & fantasizing about being underwater documenting Mayan skulls given as offerings. Fuckkkk, I love anthropology so much!!  take me anywhere in the world to immerse myself into culture & archaeology.

INTROVERT OR EXTROVERT Introvert. I have a real life friend I see roughly once a month, and that’s it. Plenty of online relationships, I’m chatty, message me all day every day. but i dont do people well.

DO YOU SCARE EASILY I used to! Really bad. I don’t as much anymore. I do get paranoia a lot still. Having therapists telling you that the FBI could be outside your house watching you through your windows will kind of nervous. ( no google results for: yes hello fbi i am a writer please dont put me on watchlists i just have research i need to do for this idea im working on, would you like to try again? ) I have nightmares nightly but not they never make me afraid, they just make me feel like crap. jumpscares and loud noises and seeing people reaching into their pockets dont set off as many brain alarms anymore tho!! progress haha.

IPHONE OR ANDROID I like my android better bc of capabilities but meh

DO YOU PLAY ANY VIDEO GAMES My mom, her husband & I play COD for family game night, and Silent Hill is my life’s blood. I’ve sunken hours into Sims & Skyrim, and Norman Jayden from Heavy Rain is my #1 fictional character in existence, why do i love the druggie babies

DREAM JOB Oh… You’re asking me to pick? I’d love to be an anthropologist doing work out in the field. Underwater archaeology is peak, but I’m also heavily considering being a body recovery diver or police diver. I’d love to see myself in uniform someday, if possible. Just the thought makes me teary eyed & proud.

WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITH A MILLION DOLLARS fund my person creative & educational endeavors. get myself a spooky ass abandoned house to make my own home to create in, and travel to the world’s best dive sites. just live a mild life of education, creation & exploration. that’s the dream TM.

FICTIONAL CHARACTER YOU HATE dr. hill is a gross and whiny lil bitch this post brought to u by the miskatonic crew, how is everyone here an even worse bad guy than herbert west precious dan excluded talk shit get hit tho john winchester from spn and both walter white & todd from breaking bad are all in my crew of hated characters. i jusT…   the reani novel is difficult to read because i have to deal with this old sack of shit.

FANDOM THAT YOU WERE ONCE A PART OF BUT AREN’T ANY LONGER Supernatural :-)

… AND THIS CONCLUDES A DEEP DIVE WITH INDIGO!! //

[juistheseminarian]

Eccentric, part 2 : now I’m here

I was planning to be done with this by now - both with this article and with the illness. I can’t believe that it’s been almost 15 years and I still get people congratulating me for acknowledging that I have an issue and going it’s-the-first-step-to-recovery, which they’ve learned was an appropriate thing to say since you don’t want to stand there and be embarrassed like I do with my boyfriend’s mom when she starts crying (which she does a lot). I’ve stirred things and realized things and I intended this to sound like a sort of retrospective from a place of unadulterated success. But guess what! 

I ended the last bit on my return from anorexia and lasting relationship with a psychologist I described as abusive, although that may be excessive and may come from the resentment of a long therapy seemingly not having “worked”. I started seeing them around age 12, before the eating disorder really declared, and i was referred to them at the end of an endless session of musical chairs through which I met many, many ‘emergency’ professionals whose schedules couldn’t accommodate another patient. I had to tell the whole story every time as if I were filing a police complaint or justifying an ailment that had long thinned beyond recognition, losing more of its meaning every time; I worried often, and I still do, about making myself sound ill enough to be considered, knowing I was taking their time when they could be curing people with actual issues. 

Having been sent to therapy after the school phobia I developed as a 5 or 6-year-old, and then again as a 12-year-old, and on and off ever since, means I’ve barely lived without framing my every breath as something to be treated and fixed, analyzed and made normal, insufficient, dependant, bending the wrong way. I entered this longest bout of therapy as a child and left it a decade later as a child. I believe for the first few years the psychologist was reliable if a little too set in her ways: there was no talk of medication outside of an apparent agreement to exclude it, which comforted my irrational fear of treatment with just as little medical basis as I previously had. However, her patient-based approach helped me feel like this time around it wouldn’t be an issue if I wasn’t “really” anything, or that’s how I viewed it at first. I don’t mean to dismiss the entirety of what happened there, only, you know, the bits where a refusal to diagnose me lead to a refusal to treat me, which in turn lead to desperation to fit me into the superstitious ramblings of an unstable person who refused to treat herself. Fuck that person. Call it what it is. 

I resented the amount of information she gave me about herself, the description of her previous marriage leading up to ten years of unhappiness she couldn’t get out of, the description of her current partner’s superior attitude, the way her life was a mess and the way I viewed her as honest instead of genuinely intrusive. She’d offer to pay me to iron her clothes, she’d talk to my teenage self about her finances, about her gynecological health, and I listened, and my mother became concerned. By then she had framed my parents as unable to understand me the way she would, she whose child had run away from home and I had to know all about it, apparently. I defended her. 

After the anorexia bit I grew alright for a while. I went to high school, I had a boyfriend, I neglected my own friends in order to make him my first priority at all costs, in short I was playing my role very well. My writing got noticed, as it should be, and I was exempted from english class, as I should be. I was bad at maths, I was good at history, I enjoyed latin class, I had friends I looked cool to because of the whole having had sex thing. Over one year my boyfriend and I had split up and I saw a few boys from my grade, most notably a wreck of a teen who regularly said he could be doing this with any of my friends and prided himself for using me “as an experiment”. When I broke up with him to go have the world’s least satisfactory sex with a friend of his, he called me crying hundreds of times. He had read somewhere that cool people had open relationships so he wanted one: when I took him up on that he said I disgusted him, turned around cause he “couldn’t look at me”, and masturbated in my bed. It was terrific. I was a sheep in shame’s clothing. 

There were the “can we do this without a condom”s and the “I want to see you shove that shower up your vagina to clean out the danger and I’m watching you”s and the “I can’t believe you cheated on me”s (he was kind!) and the “I’m storming out of your birthday party because you and your friends are little bitches”s. I don’t like how this is taking the same turn my life took - revolving around boys and men the second it got the chance, which is something I still haven’t worked out today as I live under the constant scrutiny of my several imaginary sugar daddy-leaning role models, but I’m keeping that topic for next time. This is, of course, she says in a white girl voice, about me. 

During the last year of high school, the boyfriend and I broke up for good because I had fallen in love with a guy we had met at a music festival and had pursued email after email. I felt glorious cracking the shells of emotionally unstable dudes and making them rely on me for subcontracting introspection: now I take “you’re the closest friend I’ve ever had” as a red flag, poisonous edible paper that dissolves in my water tank and kills me. It seems I do know better now, and it seems no woman ever told me that, and I keep being scared of them, and I keep being gay too, that’s my life’s familiar ghost. I’ve never gone far enough to confront the very real fact of loving women: I saw it as a kid when female nudity made me react, when I didn’t feel any sense of belonging with either boys or girls, when I felt like a monster. That desire is different because I don’t let it exist. Funny i’m only mentioning it now. What’s it like to be out to yourself? 

Do you relate to princesses? To female leads? Sometimes I can’t allow myself to replace fictional characters cause how realistic would it be to have the man of the story want to fuck me when my buttcrack isn’t even shaved? Obviously that would never work. Obviously cinderella’s ass is smooth. I never feel polished enough, or good enough an actor, or intelligible enough: expanding like a red giant, I feel like a stomach with needs, and the picture is grotesque - nothing like those Degas ballerinas. Dripping, eating itself, round but not motherly, the hunchback from Ken Russell’s the Devils is too feminine next to me. Suppose i’m fattening from storing all that shame. 

***

These days I resent the other diseased. Everyone hates my uncle cause he’s got it too and he drinks and he takes medication that people view with contempt; he lets himself die but it never seems to work even though he acts like it. Somehow something is still barely holding his limbs attached, miraculously, precariously. And my friend’s mother too, brain locked in a hamster wheel, hanging on to people like smeagol consumed, no longer in touch: filtering words like a beekeeper, only letting the crazy in. She makes me afraid to give birth. Would my children grow with a devolved being, Lovecraft’s blind cave-dweller, who once was human and is now condemned to live? Avoiding it in hallways, fearing it under their bed? 

By the fourth year of the relationship with festival boy my anxiety had become the decisive factor in every single move I made. I could no longer travel, be spontaneous, laugh, orgasm or breathe. The lump in my throat had grown bigger than I was and my face felt numb, I evaporated, I had emergency doctors drive a camera through my nose only for them to confirm I was choking myself this whole time. It really felt strange: like you’d have tried to swallow turkish delight but it piled up in your throat, invisible. The doctor wrote: patient known for anxiety. I thought: great, now when I die for real they’re gonna think i’m crying wolf and also they’re gonna be right. Fortunately enough, I then was relieved from the constant imminence of choking, you’d never guess how. 

I called a therapist my mom had taken me to when i was about 12 and we both liked her a lot - serious and a little intimidating in just the right way, a little soft yet clearly not one to let me bullshit my way out (my mom liked those). I was in the uni hall with some friends when her assistant called me back and scheduled an appointment for me later this same week: it was a huge deal. She remembered me. I suddenly felt safe, suddenly felt myself slip from my own consciousness like the narrator in Janice Galloway’s depression book when she enters a clinic: she’s no longer her own problem, or so she thinks at first, before realizing care never comes in the shape we expected. 

I started treatment almost immediately and was in shock at the realization that I did not need to suffer any more. I wasn’t aware, I didn’t KNOW of the existence of medication that would prevent me from spending hours and hours in inescapable pain, contorting my body between screams and frantic sobs, persuaded I was about to die a solitary death that’d leave me to witness my loved ones moving on in relief. Everything around me felt temporary and fleeting and treacherous. And most of all, each of these occasions were a trial for my failure to live, and I sat accused as my chrysalis life developed before me, never free, never daring, hidden, waiting. Every time, I realized how much I was missing out on. Every time I was too tired to seize the day after recovering and just dozed, scrutinized always, for a respite I knew would be short. My idea of living was a xanax in front of any distracting tv show: suddenly sleep was warm, and I wasn’t dying, and things lifted by the tornado gently fell back into place, and disappeared. 

(river) Oh, I got plenty of help. Therapists and medications and EMDR and - hypnosis and transcendental meditation. Nothing made me feel better (...) I feel everything. There just wasn’t enough positive emotion to balance me out. (payton: so it wasn’t because of me?) (river) no. you were my only relief. (“the politician” (2019) ep.6) 

My trust in festival boy was broken: I felt that if I was ever overcome with the looming fear and froze, he wouldn’t help. I have no idea if it was true: I’m very prone to blaming others for my feeling abandoned, often with no relation to their behaviour. I never could learn his language (i’m sure I can now) and the required travelling to see him became too much, even though we had met through travelling and didn’t feel at home anywhere. This continent of my life was infected and we steeped in sepsis for months and months, resentful, picturing other people when we touched, searching for admiration elsewhere. It’s the worst thing you can do to a bond, demand things from it when it’s dead, as if it was gonna answer. You know it’s been dead for months but when you try and bury it, you can swear you saw it squirm, and then it’s gone, and you took out the doubt. 

In this case I didn’t, Martin did. Martin was an old friend I knew through my first partner, and he came back into my life with an exact timing, like he was taking up an offer I was about to throw at someone else. It was all i wanted, car rides at night, feeling desired, watching him on stage, not being shamed. Comfort and help and reassurance, feeling small next to him, and knowing for certain that he understood: everything he says I take seriously, because there’s no way he doesn’t know, I could never lie, and I don’t want to. Well - I omit a little bit since that’s what it takes for me to grow guilt-free: I’m a fangirl and have never felt the need to stop, I let the obsession continent drift and crash, and perhaps it will become submerged and perhaps it won’t. Point is, I can defend it now, all the pieces I feel,I’m no one’s moodboard. 

I took a step back and realized I had no way of relying on the trope of a positive ending to this,  since there isn’t one. I see no perspective for myself, and I recently understood why antidepressants were considered a risk factor for suicides. It did make me indifferent to things that used to be matters of life and death: school grades, my weight… I care, and I don’t. I gained over 10 kg that sports don’t affect at all: I run all the time, cycle all the time, and it piles up forever, and I don’t recognize myself. I don’t fit in myself anymore. I don’t want to celebrate this thing i haven’t chosen and that I can’t deal with, and when I start thinking about it I end up in a frenzy. I just pretend it’s not there, but I feel so heavy carrying all that me. 

It’s a good time to be lost, if you’re okay with it. I’m not. I’m not free enough to be lost: I’m merely pulling on my leash and choking myself, looking at the shop displays, window shopping for life, shiny presents in a snowy christmas street, the others singing while I watch. I watch, I drift off, they see me lose focus, we’re too tired to get me back. There’s so much to experience and when I look back, so much I’m glad I’ve done before realizing I was doing it, because clearly it would be too late by now. I’m not a recluse by choice: I’m one of the weak ones, the eternal witness, or a loser, depending on how you see it. I like both. I think taking myself as seriously as i do now is both a symptom and a cause of why I’m such a bore: what’s so bad about looking stupid? I do it all the time while trying to not look anything at all. It’s not that deep, if I do say so myself, and as you’d expect, I never do. Ah the clever girl’s burden, say the adults, and together we mock the monster we’ve created and the monster takes it personally. 

So see, that’s where I’m at: no longer can I lazily bask in the excuse of a shitty partner, this time it’s on me, it’s on being sick, it’s on being sick without an excuse. My parents support me. My partner supports me. My friends would support me if i let them anywhere near me. But I take the crazy and I give it an incubator, I show it films with role models of crazy so it can grow and grow and finally make me special, isn’t this what I do? Look at joaquin phoenix and lose weight, I tell it; you’re not very good at the crazy, looking so plump and healthy. At least show your scars: they’re fading, it’s been over a decade, so now what, we’re just gonna look like someone who should get a makeover without the moving story of why they’re neglecting their appearance? What’s funny is, I’m actually a very ambitious person, mediocre is my rock bottom - listen to me when I tell you. There’s no such thing as effortless when effortless is a mountain.

(payton: i’m scared.) (river) don’t be. There’s more honor in defeat than there is in unused potential. (“the politician” (2019), ep.8) 

My therapist recently told me that if I was catholic I’d be in trouble. Duh, right? Jokes aside, she went: then people would see you as a waste because you do nothing with your force. You wouldn’t be allowed to just have that and not live it. I pondered: don’t you think I know that? Is more guilt really the solution? 

I know i want things. I know I love things, and people, and sounds, and places, and smells, and being alive. But do you see the difference between ‘knowing’ you shouldn’t be doing something, and understanding it in your very flesh, by experience, growing from it with the intimate conviction that it’s something you must stay away from? I know those things, and I don’t feel them really. I’m a fast learner, I’m a semi competent person, I can almost seem okay in a group. But I have shackles for lungs and I have concrete for breath. It’s got brutalist charm and warmth almost doesn’t spread. 

So that’s where I am with the dreams I have and the love I feel and the way it won’t come out. I suppose I’m awake but I’m not quite there. Martin feels it first: the pain on his face when I disconnect is breaking my heart. He’s just trying to bring me back. I’m loved. I’m locked away. And once my arms break I’ll dig my way out with my teeth if I need to.

[silentauroriamthereal]

This seems like fun! Thanks for the tag, @swissmissing! 

1. AO3 handle: SilentAuror

2. Ships I write: Johnlock. Oh, and maybe a touch of Freebatch. In the past I wrote a crapton of Harry/Draco and a few other scattered ships hither and thither, but these days it’s pretty much pure Johnlock over here. 

3. Ships I read: I don’t read much fanfic, but if I do, it’s definitely Johnlock! 

4. When I started writing: I don’t remember my first piece of fiction ever, but it was definitely sometime in childhood! My first fanfic was posted in 2002, I believe! 

5. First fic I wrote: In this fandom? Resurrection. 

6. Favorite fic I wrote: I really can’t say! 

7. Hardest fic I wrote: Again, I really can’t say. Different stories have been hard for different reasons. Against the Rest of the World comes to mind, just for sheer length and complexity & detail of plot, but Scars was very different to write for the emotional and physical abuse it contains. Some of the angst-heavy stories I’ve written have practically given me ulcers. Sometimes I make the cases so complicated that I have to keep a whole separate file just on case notes (witness The Bells of King’s College, which features not just six cold cases, but they all had to be related to: a) the murderer (obviously), b) each other, and c) a potential seventh victim, and d) Mary!). Bridging the Ravine features something like 21 named OCs, about 8 of whom have fairly major parts. And The Final Proof was hard as hell to write because it made me cry throughout, lol. Along with basically 98% of the people who have read it, which was sort of the point, but there you go. :P (See warnings!!!!!) 

8. Most research-intensive fic I wrote: That has to be a toss-up between Against the Rest of the World for the location research specifically, and Scars, for which I did extensive research (including interviewing three separate therapists who specialize in female->male abuse and gaslighting). 

9. Fic that is most dear to me: This is like asking me to pick a favourite among my children! Of which I now have 84 in this fandom alone! Really can’t say! 

10. Favourite trope to write: I mostly avoid actively writing tropes, though I’ve unapologetically used fake-couple-for-a-case twice now (once where it goes quite well for them (Bridging the Ravine) and once where it goes quite badly for them (The Bells of King’s College)), and smaller tropes like sexual coaching (Isosceles), bed-sharing (numerous), and then apparently I’ve used some accidentally, such as amnesia (The Wisteria Tree). Lol. 

11. Something I wouldn’t write: An unhappy or non-Johnlock ending, a version of Mary that doesn’t line up with her actual canon behaviour, fluffy familial sitcom that’s wholly out of character (which isn’t to say that parentlock can’t be IC, but it’s a stretch to make it fit with these two particular men, IMO). 

12. Favourite scene I ever wrote: I’ve just written too many to choose only one. :/ Sorry, I keep saying this! 

13. Where I get my inspiration: From Moftiss’ resolute determination to prevent these two from having an honest, direct, and complete conversation about their relationship, their history, and their feelings. I WILL make them talk, damn it! And then kiss. Like a lot. :) 

14. Hardest scene I ever wrote: There’s a rape scene in chapter 3 of Scars. I avoided writing it for days. Then, once I finished it, I remember literally just closing my laptop, standing up, putting on my shoes, and walking out of my apartment to clear my head. 

15. Favourite characterisation I wrote: Oooh. Okay, I’m giving this one to Sherlock in Against the Rest of the World, specifically because it’s told in first person, which means that I spent four solid months living inside this version of his head, and I found it very difficult to not be in it once the story came to its eventual finish!

In this fandom, I’ve now written in the POVs of 12 different characters (not counting the “characters” of Ben and Martin in my four Freebatch fics), and I’ve loved writing every single one of them, even if I don’t necessarily love the character themselves! The breakdown goes like this, though for the last two, it’s only single chapters/parts of stories, never a full stand-alone story: Sherlock (36 times, including both novels), John (37 times), Mycroft (3 times), Lestrade (3 times), Mary (3 times), Molly (twice), Rose (Rosie at age 19, once), Janine (once), Ella (once), Vee (Mummy) Holmes (once), Mrs Hudson (once), and Sally Donovan (once). 

My current project is one of my rare mixed-POV stories, heavily John-POV, but with contribution scenes from Sherlock, Ella, and Molly. 

16. Sequel I would write, if I had the chance: I’m actually somewhat planning, pending my muses’ inspiration and general whims, a sequel to Isosceles, where Sherlock and John visit Corey Graham in LA. :)

17. Story I want to write, but I don’t think people would enjoy reading: It’s so masochistic, but I never let that stop me! :P I did suppress my urge to write my first Freebatch fic (The A.G.R.A Complex) for about eight months before finally giving in. I fully expected to be shot for writing Scars, and I’m somewhat expecting people to hate my current project, but if the muses demand it, then I write it. What can you do. :P

18. A line from a WIP: I never do lines. It’ll have to be a snippet, lol. Not to channel Culverton Smith or anything... 

Ella thinks of the long story Sherlock told her one stormy afternoon only a few weeks ago, during one of the appointments she cannot, by dint of professional vow, acknowledge to John that are happening, and of the fact that Sherlock admitted that he’s never yet found a way to casually bring up the snipers in conversation with John, his hesitancy to rock the boat, the surface stability they’ve seemingly found in the wake of the events with Sherlock’s unbalanced sister. She sighs inwardly, but keeps her expression neutral. “You’re still angry about that,” she says. It isn’t a question; after all, she knows John rather well by this point.

John frowns, but nods, still looking down.

“And how has that anger come out?” Ella asks, conscious to keep her tone even. 

John’s mouth opens, his breath drawing in sharply and stopping in his chest.

19. A recent comment on a story that made me smile: That someone commented at all makes me smile! Unless it’s overt hate, I guess. :P 

20. A discontinued work I would love to finish: I have never, in my 2.1+ million words of Sherlock fiction, or 1.5 words of HP fiction, not finished a story that I started. 

21. Fic writers I admire: Honestly, for these last two, I just don’t read enough to be able to comment well on this! I also know that if I list anyone, I’ll leave out someone who really, really should be mentioned. I’ll just say this: anyone who is actively working at the craft of writing and putting themselves out there deserves all the praise and admiration in the world. Same goes for artists! You’re putting a naked little piece of your soul out there for the world to see, criticize, hopefully (but not necessarily) love, and that is SO brave! So the truest answer here is: all of you! 

22. A story I recommend: Same answer as above! I would recommend @swissmissficrecs for recs! 

Tagging: anyone who reads this post and writes. You’re tagged. :)

[theycallmebeccawrites]

Perfectly Imperfect: Chapter 1

With Tumblr holding my original writing blog @beccaheartschrisevans captive (aka flagged as explicit), I have made a secondary writing blog and may end up closing the other all together. In the meantime, I am reposting all of my stories on my new blog.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Wren Arnold (OFC)

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: n/a

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

Perfectly Imperfect Masterlist | Chris & Wren Masterlist

Prologue

Chapter 1

April 17, 2020

Going to the grocery store after a long week at work was the last thing that Lauren "Wren" Arnold wanted to do, but she didn't have a choice if she wanted more than wine for dinner. Though, after the day she'd had, wine would play a large roll in her unwinding for the evening.

The day had started relatively normal and had been that way until about lunchtime, when she'd gotten a call from the school nurse informing her that two of her students were out for the day due to head lice. Having taught Kindergarten for nearly ten years, Wren had known that the rest of the day would be lost to the rest of the class being checked for head lice. She'd read book after book while her students had been checked by the school nurse and other volunteers. In the end, two additional students were found to be victims and they'd been sent home early while the rest of the class had been sent home with letters informing parents of the outbreak.

Wren, herself, had been subjected to a check once the class had left for the day and she, thankfully, had been free of the nasty bugs. She had then spent an extra hour working with the school nurse and janitor to give her classroom a thorough cleaning.

Now it was after six in the evening and Wren was just getting to the grocery store, something that usually happened a little after four on a normal Friday. She grabbed a hand-held basket then pulled out the handwritten grocery list she had compiled before the phone call and referenced it as she made her way through the fruits and the vegetable section.

After getting the fresh produce that was on her list, she made her way into one of the center aisles and grimaced when she heard a little kid crying loudly. The sound grew louder as she made her way up and down the aisles, grabbing what she needed. As she passed the aisle that the poor child was on, she couldn't help but steal a glance in their direction and froze when she recognized the upset little girl and her dad.

Hurrying towards them, Wren pulled a smile onto her face and used her best teacher voice to say, "Oh my, what's going on here?"

Father and daughter turned to look at her and she couldn't tell who was happier to see her: Chris Evans or his two, nearly three, year old daughter. A look of relief had washed over Chris's tired face as Adelaide "Addy" Evans stopped crying.

"What's wrong, Addy?" Wren asked as she dried the little girl's tears with her thumbs.

"We missed nap time," Chris explained. "And then I wouldn't let her bring her teddy bear into the grocery story." He raked his hand through his hair. "It's been a rough day, but we don't have anything in the house for dinner so…"

"You shop, I'll push and entertain her," Wren told him. She handed him her basket and he put it into the shopping cart.

"You might as well give me your list, too," he said, motioning for her list.

"How do you know I have a list?" Wren asked.

"Because you never go anywhere without a list," Chris stated. "You love making lists and you've been doing it the entire 24 years I've known you. So hand it over."

"Fine," she replied, handing over the list. "But stick to the brand names and ask if you have any questions."

Wren followed Chris through the store as she talked with Addy. Seeing the pair of them tonight was just what she needed after her horrible day. The single dad and his little girl had become a favorite treat to her otherwise boring life. Not that she would admit that out loud to anyone, especially not to her roommate Heidi, who happened to be the guidance counselor at the elementary school Wren worked at.

After three years of relative silence, Chris had blown back into Wren's life five months ago, a few weeks before Christmas. She'd heard via his older sister that his wife, Jessa, had filed for divorce in November, a few weeks after their third wedding anniversary. Wren knew it had come as a complete shock to Chris and he had spent the first few months in Boston being angry at the world and everyone in it save for Addy.

Wren knew very little about the divorce and the reasons for it. Articles about it reported 'irreconcilable differences', but Chris had been relatively quiet about it all, other than the occasional choice word for his ex-wife. Whatever his personal feelings about Jessa were, he refused to let anyone speak badly about her in front of Addy.

Chris's reentry into Wren's life had been relatively seamless. The first few months had been kind of rocky, mostly because of his attitude, but he was slowly becoming the Chris she loved and remembered. And Addy was adorable, smart, funny and Chris’s mini me. She had taken the cross country move remarkably well for a two and a half year old and was thriving under all the love showered on her by her grandma, aunts, uncles and cousins.

Said family members had been sad, but had understanding, when Chris had decided, a month ago, that it was time for him and Addy to get their own place. Not that he had moved very away, having purchased a modest three bedroom, two and a half bathroom house a block away. Wren knew they were still adjusting to it being just the two of them, but she had faith that Chris would figure it out, it was obvious to anyone who looked at him that he loved his little girl.

"Ok, I think that's everything," Chris said as he dropped a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream into Wren's basket.

"That wasn't on my list," Wren told him.

"But a head lice kit is," Chris stated, bringing up the last item that was scribbled on her list. "I think you need the ice cream."

"Chris, it's not part of my budget," she replied. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes; he might be able to afford anything his heart desired, but she had a strict budget.

"I'm paying for your groceries tonight," he told her then gave her a look that dared her to argue.

"Fine, but then I want an expensive bottle of -" Wren stopped when Chris pulled a bottle of her favorite wine out of her basket, making it clear that he had already swapped out the cheaper version when she had been distracting Addy. "I was joking, but I won't say no."

As they reached the checkout counters, they found long lines. They attempted to find the shortest one, but it was only a few minutes before Addy started fussing again.

"I can take her out to the car, if you'd like," Wren offered.

Chris fished his car keys from his pocket and then handed them to Wren. He told her where he parked and then hoisted Addy out of the cart. He gave her a raspberry on her neck, making her giggle, and then set her feet on the ground.

Wren took Addy's hand and led the little girl out of the grocery store. They sang a nursery rhyme as they looked for Chris's car. Once they had found it, they sat in the backseat together, with Addy holding onto her beloved teddy bear, while they waited for Chris. After a few minutes, Addy crawled onto Wren's lap and laid her head on her shoulder and Wren couldn't help but hold her close.

By the time Chris got to the car, Addy was asleep. He put his groceries into the trunk and then helped Wren transfer Addy into her car seat. The little girl slept through the process of being buckled in and didn't even flinch when Chris closed the door.

"Thank you for your help today," Chris said to Wren. "I was about to lose my mind. She was crying and I couldn't remember a thing I needed to buy."

"Maybe you should start making actual, handwritten lists," Wren teased as she pushed his shoulder. "But I'm happy I was there to help."

Chris laughed and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight.

Wren felt her heart skip a beat as she breathed in the comforting scent that was his cologne mixed with a faint hint of baby powder, laundry soap and men's soap. She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him back, loving the way she felt safe and secure in his arms.

The honk of a horn startled them and Chris let go of her, forcing her to let go of him.

"I'd walk you to your car, but," he nodded towards his sleeping daughter.

"It's ok," Wren assured him. She grabbed the shopping cart and gave him a quick wave before she pushed the cart to her car. She loaded her groceries into the backseat of her car then returned the cart.

It wasn't until she arrived home and started unloading her bags of groceries that she saw that Chris had snuck a few other things into the basket while she hadn't been paying attention: a box of Twinkies, their go to after school snack before play practices, and a carton of Milk Duds, her favorite movie theater candy.

Wren shook her head and grabbed her phone. She quickly typed him a text and sent it to him.

Thanks for the Twinkies and the Milk Duds.

He responded a second later:

Thought you needed them with all that healthy crap. Addy is awake. TTYL

Wren chuckled and set her phone aside. She put a frozen dinner into the microwave and poured herself a glass of wine while she waited for it to cook. Then she carried her dinner over to the couch and settled down.

The desire she'd had to drown herself in wine when she'd left work was now gone and she didn't need her therapist roommate to tell her what the reason was.

Chapter 2

Want to find me off tumblr? I'm @beccatheycallme on twitter. I also post my stories on AO3.

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[starringemiliaclarke]

Emilia Clarke on Why Game of Thrones Is the Perfect Form of Escapism + HQ Scans

As Daenerys Targaryen on Game of Thrones, Emilia Clarke created a warrior queen for the ages. Her legend can be told on the walls of caves or on T-shirts at Comic-Con. But behind the Valkyrie wigs and very testy dragons, Clarke has an inspiring origin story of her own.

A valley sprawls before her, rich with every color of green in the kingdom, reaching out to a twinkling city, which borders the infinite sea. Her hair (tinted not with peroxide, but tiny flecks of actual gold) glows with a radiance that makes the setting sun so jealous it hides behind the surrounding mountains, and the evening sky blushes. She is Daenerys Targaryen, Queen of the Andals, Breaker of Chains, Mother of Dragons, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea. Everything in sight belongs to her.

Just kidding! She is Emilia Clarke, sitting high above Beverly Hills in a glass mansion rented for a magazine cover shoot. So high up that passing aircraft rattle the bones of the house and those inside it. So high up that you can see Santa Catalina Island in the distance, peeking out from behind a curtain of fog. She laughs about something the makeup artist says, and the last of the evening light bounces off of her cheekbones and shoots into the camera lens.

We are in the sky to talk about Clarke’s reign as one of the most preeminent television actresses of our time, as Daenerys on Game of Thrones. But first, I have a few questions about her abandoned career as a jazz singer.

Clarke’s default emotion is joy — her resting heart rate seems to be just below that of someone seconds after winning a medium-expensive raffle prize — but it quickly congeals into theatrical horror when I reveal that I know that she is a casual but talented singer of jazz music.

When she was 10, Clarke was an alto in a chorus that she describes as “very churchy.” Then a substitute teacher introduced her class to jazz. “I just innately understood it,” she explains. “I was always sliding up and down the notes. Every time, the [chorus] teacher would be like, ‘Quit sliding, just sing that note and then that one and that’s it. Stop trying to fuck with it.’ Then this [jazz teacher] was like, ‘Fuck with it. That’s the point.’ ” Fast-forward a couple of decades, and Clarke was singing “The Way You Look Tonight” at the American Songbook Gala in New York, honoring Richard Plepler, erstwhile CEO of HBO. Nicole Kidman was there, too, and that is the story of Emilia Clarke, a very famous singer.

Just kidding, again! That is the story of Emilia Clarke, extremely famous actress, and it is not even the beginning. Game of Thrones, the HBO fantasy epic that has captured the global zeitgeist for most of the past decade, has entered its ultimate season. Since the show premiered in 2011, Daenerys’s searing platinum blonde has been branded into the brains of every living person with cable access, so much so that she has become as recognizable an action figure as Princess Leia. Every autumn, legions of Americans don Grecian-style dresses and carry stuffed dragons to Halloween parties in homage. Kristen Wiig even appeared on The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon in a full Daenerys getup. This phenomenon exists in part because it’s a relatively easy costume to assemble, but more likely because Game of Thrones is the most popular TV show in the history of TV shows.

It’s also just one of three popular entertainment franchises Clarke has participated in. Last year: Solo: A Star Wars Story, as a paramour of Han Solo. Two years before that: the fifth Terminator movie, beside Arnold. She was also Holly Golightly in a short-lived Breakfast at Tiffany’s production on Broadway. None of those projects were particularly successful — but none of that matters, to a remarkable degree, because what matters is: The people love Daenerys.

They love a character whose series arc begins with her indentured servitude as a warlord’s concubine and ends, most recently, with her fighting for sovereignty over a league of nations and for a throne made of swords. They love how fictional languages drift from her mouth like dancing smoke, and how her searing-white mane retains a fearsome curl, even in or near battle. They love the whole dragons thing.

The people would love Emilia Clarke, too, if only they knew who she was. During the first few seasons of Game of Thrones, Clarke was able to fool the general public into believing she was very regular civilian Emilia Clarke, because Daenerys was blonde, and Clarke was not. Now, she says, recognition happens more frequently. Particularly Stateside.

For reasons I cannot fathom, Americans feel more entitled to command the attention of celebrities. “People are like, ‘UH-melia CLORK!’ ” she says, in perfect American. In London, people are prone to whisper about her as she passes by. “ ‘Was that Emilia Clarke?’ ”

“I move like a shark when I’m in public,” she says. “Head down. I think I’ve got quite bad posture because of it, because I’m determined to lead a normal life. So I just move too quickly for anyone to register if it’s me or not. And I don’t walk around with six security men and big sunglasses and a bizarre coat. I really try to meld in.” It gets worse when the show is being promoted, but otherwise, she says, it’s not so bad.

“I move like a shark when I’m in public. Head down…I’m determined to lead a normal life, so I just move too quickly for anyone to register if it’s me or not.”

Her best efforts aside, anonymity may be a pipe dream. The show is as decorated as a Christmas tree in a craft store. Game of Thrones has won a Peabody and 47 Emmys, the most of any television drama in history. The show marries critical praise with popular success, then it mercilessly slaughters those who have come to celebrate this union and receives even more acclaim (“The Rains of Castamere,” season 3, episode 9). The plotlines are famously convoluted. Luckily, we have an entire web’s worth of episode explainers, encyclopedias designed specifically for the Westeros universe, and a self-explanatory Funny or Die segment called Gay of Thrones, starring Jonathan van Ness.

When Mad Men first aired, television bloggers dutifully unpacked its symbolic elements, and millennials celebrated the show’s style with Mad Men–themed parties that were really just ’60s-and-one-red-wig-themed parties. Game of Thrones is basically an economy of its own. Since the show premiered, tourism to Croatia, whose coastal port Dubrovnik stands in for the fictional city of King’s Landing, has nearly doubled. Game of Thrones–themed weddings are so popular that it is almost impossible not to attend them — in 2016, Clarke accidentally walked into one that was occurring at the same hotel where she and the cast were staying during filming. (It was not a canonical wedding, and no guests were harmed.)

Game of Thrones has also earned one of the most important pop culture accolades of the century: The attention of Beyoncé Knowles. I believe it is her favorite TV show, and this is why.

Exhibit A: Jay-Z reportedly gave her a prop dragon’s egg from the set, at great personal expense. Exhibit B: At an Oscars after-party this year, Beyoncé approached Clarke (“voluntarily,” according to the actress) to introduce herself. “I watched her face go, ‘Oh, no, I shouldn’t be talking to this crazy [woman], who is essentially crying in front of me,’ ” remembers Clarke. “I think my inner monologue was, ‘Stop fucking it up,’ and I kept fucking it up.”

“I was like, ‘I just saw you in concert.’ And she was like, ‘I know.’ ” Clarke also mentions that Beyoncé complimented her work but declines to share specifics.

Why are people (more specifically, everybody) and goddesses (more specifically, Beyoncé) all obsessed with a show about some dragons and lots of dungeons?

“The show is sensationalist in a way,” Clarke explains, in an effort to describe a TV series that features twins having sex and a child’s defenestration in the very first episode. It doesn’t matter — Clarke’s conversational style is so intimate and emphatic that basic facts feel like sworn secrets. When she smiles, she does so with every single muscle in her face. “It’s the reason why people pick up gossip magazines. They want to know what happens next…. You’ve got a society that is far removed enough from ours but also circulates around power. How that corrupts people and how we want it, and how we don’t want it.”

In other words, Game of Thrones’ value proposition is creating a rich other world for people to experience a prestige, high-production version of pure, horny, violent, unbridled drama. It is, according to Clarke, pitched perfectly: “I think it caught Western society at exactly the right moment.”

“I don’t know about you,” she says, “but when I watch something, it’s escapism. I’m feeling crappy; I’m just sad, moody, depressed, upset, angry, whatever it is. I know that distraction is what makes me get better. Distraction is what really, really helps me.” She laughs and then quickly pivots to a caveat: “I’m sure that’s not what a therapist would advise.”

It is at this point that Emilia Clarke leans in very close, her breath knocking at my sideburn, and explains to me the bombastic and devastating ending to the most important TV show of the decade.

Wow — just kidding once more. But, uh, while we’re on the topic, how is this whole thing going to end?

It was not hard to root for the Breaker of Chains, until recently. Now we’re seeing the gentle unspooling of her character, and flickers of a dangerous prophecy that she will ascend the throne only to follow in her father’s footsteps and burn it all to the ground. For a while, Daenerys seemed like the Lawful Good ruler, but we have had the great pleasure of watching how power can pervert people. (Nate Jones, at Vulture, leads a thrilling discussion of this very topic.) (Also, if Daenerys were to rule the Seven Kingdoms, only to go nuts, we might at the very least have a spinoff to look forward to.)

Clarke will never say. Throughout 10 or so years in the public eye, her interviews have been peppered with the same handful of charming personal details from her career — the service jobs she worked prior to making it, dancing the funky chicken during her Game of Thrones audition — which feels a lot like walking a vast beach and finding the same series of 10 seashells.

Then, in March, some very different treasure washed ashore when The New Yorker ran the most illuminating profile of Emilia Clarke to date. It was written by Emilia Clarke.

If I am truly being honest every minute of every day I thought I was going to die.

In it, Clarke revealed that she had suffered two near-fatal brain aneurysms during the early seasons of Game of Thrones. The first hit her mid-plank during a training session, and not long after, doctors discovered a second that required them to open her skull for a risky operation. The recovery period was, to her, more painful than the aneurysms. “If I am truly being honest,” she wrote, “every minute of every day I thought I was going to die.” She also announced her charity venture, SameYou, which seeks to provide rehabilitation for young people recovering from brain injuries.

The second time we talk, it is the day before the Game of Thrones New York premiere, and Clarke is at a morning fitting, surrounded by a coronation’s worth of gowns. It’s early, and a passing cold has fried the edges of her voice. But her words still vibrate with so much joy, it’s like she doesn’t even notice. She’s just happy to be here, wherever she is.

Source

Emilia Clarke on Why Game of Thrones Is the Perfect Form of Escapism + HQ Scans was originally published on Enchanting Emilia Clarke | Est 2012

[hextual]

Podcast Recs

The following recs/summaries may contain light-to-moderate spoilers, though I try to keep things vague and rot13 the more specific stuff! Here is an abbreviated spoiler-free rec list, for the sensitive among you.

Night Vale Presents

The three non-WTNV shows have all finished their first seasons (and Alice Isn't Dead just started its second). They're relatively short and contain complete story arcs. 

WTNV: The ur-podcast, the light horror fiction narrative that kicked off the trend. Y'all know it or you don't. If you've somehow never heard it and don't want to start from the pilot, I recommend trying Episode 13; it's a stand-alone episode in a slightly different format than the rest, but it gives a good sense of WTNV's general aesthetic. Also it's just really really good.

Alice Isn't Dead: A surrealist horror roadtrip about a trucker searching for her wife Alice, who isn't dead. She's got nothing to lose and a lot of dangerous road to cover.

Orbiting Human Circus: Bizarre and magical and a little bit heartbreaking, like all good circuses should be. Julian is the janitor of a heavily fictionalized Eiffel Tower, and he desperately wants to be part of the Orbiting Human Circus show that he cleans up after every night.

Within the Wires: Dystopian sci-fi 1980s AU, told through a series of 'relaxation' cassettes. More grounded in reality than the others, though that's not saying much. The medium is also foregrounded much more in the narrative.

Hiatus

Wolf 359: SUPER dark, though you wouldn't know it from the first dozen episodes. However, the inflicting-trauma to coping-with-trauma ratio is low enough that I listened to the whole thing and will almost definitely listen to Season 4 when it's released starting this June. Also, no queerness whatsoever (making it unique on this list).  

Eos 10: Spaceship sitcom. Less artistically ambitious than most of the others on this list, which is not necessarily a point against it. 

Airing

The Strange Case of Starship Iris: Newer sci-fi podcast that I absolutely love; it ticks all my very specific boxes (including medium-as-message) and is also just really well constructed and executed. I adore every single one of the main characters. There are only 4 episodes but I'm so hyped about it. 

The Bright Sessions: Audio files from a therapist to teens and young adults with superpowers. Everything I ever wanted X-Men to be: light on the fight scenes/explosions, heavy on exploring what it means to have superhuman powers and how that might affect your life/relationships.

The Penumbra Podcast: Cyberpunk noir pastiche that sometimes gets a little too broad for me but is generally good fun of the Thrilling Tales! variety.

Ars Paradoxica: Time travel in one of its more complex interpretations. Paradox is a major plot element. Kind of sci-fi historical fiction?

Now for the more detailed writeups, including overviews of queerness and genre. As I said before, potential spoilers are rot13′d...but Here There Be Dragons etc.

Night Vale Presents

All of these are incredibly solid shows with an otherworldly feel to them that I love, despite being otherwise quite different.

All main characters are queer; WTNV has queer side characters (including nonbinary characters), but afaik the only other explicitly queer characters in AID/ORC/WTW are love interests of the MCs. That's pretty understandable, though, given that the casts of the three non-WTNV shows are exponentially smaller, and they've aired significantly fewer episodes.

I want to mention something in a totally value-neutral way: none of the shows feature homophobia or directly discuss queerness (lowkey exception for one episode of WTNV). I actually enjoy that, personally; it's usually very restful to spend time in worlds where queerness is normalized and unremarkable. Occasionally, however, I do want a slightly more direct approach, so I wanted to make a note in case you're in that kind of mood. 

Welcome to Night Vale The first and only podcast I listened to for about a year. Honestly, do I even need to say anything about WTNV?  I do want to mention that I think it's gotten a little bogged down in continuity over the last year. AFAIK it wasn't conceived as a long-running narrative arc, and a lot of its early charm came from the total lack of context. After Year 2, I feel like it did start spending a little too much time explaining things and filling out backstory for elements that, frankly, didn't need them. YMMV ofc, and I still listen to/enjoy every new episode, but I'm not madly in love with Year 3 the way I was with Year 1-2. Queerness: Queer af! The main character gets a full same-sex romance arc; V'q pnyy vg 'unccl-raqvat' ohg vg'f fgvyy batbvat nf n ybivat naq urnygul eryngvbafuvc, juvpu vf rira orggre. Multiple side characters are queer, including a few nonbinary characters who use they/them pronouns.  Genre: tucking into a short stack at 2am in a diner in the American Southwest, slowly realizing that the woman behind the counter called you by name even though you've never been here before, and also you can't quite remember how you got here in the first place. Alice Isn't Dead Beautiful, creepy, and acted by the brilliant Jasika Nicole. I'd place this more firmly in the horror genre than the others, so if you're sensitive to that kind of thing, take note; there's some suspense and a little bit of violence. That said, I am usually MASSIVELY sensitive and can't even watch trailers for horror movies (I have made my peace with never ever seeing Get Out), and I was perfectly fine with it. Queerness: The main character is a woman married to Alice, who isn't dead. It's like the opposite of the Bury Your Gays trope. Genre: driving along a nameless interstate late at night, the world around you narrowed to the section of road thrown into sharp relief by your headlights, and the occasional glint of animal eyes. The Orbiting Human Circus of the Air ORC is the most fanciful of the Night Vale family. The other shows seem like they take place in realities just a shade off from ours, but ORC completely throws any pretense of realism out the window. There's no real sense of a world outside the Circus, and why should there be? The Orbiting Human Circus of the Air has an infinitude of fantastical delights: singing saws, a bird that can mimic (almost) a full orchestra, tap-dancing mice. There's no trick or sleight of hand involved, not even a dusty tome of magic spells. ORC simply presents a world in which these wonders exist in hidden corners. The story is sometimes melancholy, and there are regular hints of a deep sadness underneath the surface, but the main character is defined by his determination and...well, 'optimism' would be too strong a word, but he has an unyielding sense of hope. He doesn't actually think things will turn out well for him (and he's so often right about that), but he clings to the hope that this time, maybe it might. Queerness: Gur znva punenpgre nyyhqrf gb na rk-oblsevraq bapr. This is one of the lighter touches of queerness in the Night Vale family. Genre: peering through a dusty velvet curtain just offstage, while brightly-costumed creatures dance to a tune you haven't heard since you were a child. Within the Wires While all Night Vale Presents shows have some kind of narrative conceit framing the audio medium (community radio station, trucker radio transmissions, broadcast wish fulfillment), those tend to be vehicles for the story and stylistic flourishes, rather than core elements of the story itself. WtW is presented as audio cassettes on full-body relaxation, and the cassettes themselves become key actors. This is not a story that could be told in any other medium, which personally I freaking love. This is also a more sci-fi show than the others, despite being set in AU 1980s, and more blatantly dystopic. The world-building's a little more evident, which is neither a good thing nor a bad thing; I think it's a side effect of being more sci-fi than fantasy. Everything feels like it has an explanation, even if the explanation is not provided, and it all fits together smoothly. Also: the narrator has a mild kiwi accent, which I find incredibly soothing. Queerness: Yep. Gur znva punenpgre unf n pbzcyvpngrq ohg qrpvqrqyl abg cyngbavp (s/s) eryngvbafuvc jvgu gur jbzna gur gncrf ner vagraqrq sbe.  Genre: lying quietly in a sensory isolation tank until you inexplicably start crying for the first time in years.

On hiatus

Wolf 359 So, there are a couple voice actors in Wolf 359 that don't do a whole lot for me, performance-wise. I don't want to get more specific because YMMV and I'm also just a really picky audio consumer, but there you have it. Mostly it's not an issue, though. This is also one of the darker shows I listen to, although it starts out with more of a zany sitcom vibe. There's a fair amount of murder, murder attempts, and general people-being-horrible-in-ways-they-believe-to-be-justified. It's not something I think I could sit through again, but it is a captivating story told well. There's a lot of focus on the emotional arcs and characters dealing with trauma, which I am All About in sci-fi. 

Queerness: zero. Zip. Zilch. It doesn't feature any romance arcs at all, though, so...I found it tolerable. Honestly, if it hadn't come so highly recommended, I probably would not have given it a shot. Genre: placing your hand on a rusty, unmarked door that wasn't in the ship schematics, and knowing you must step through—you must step through. Eos 10 After my first pass at this write-up, I realized that I was being really negative—far more negative than this show deserves. So I want to be clear: I listened to and enjoyed every extant episode of Eos 10, and I'm looking forward to Season 3, whenever it's released. It's a pleasantly entertaining space sitcom and I've gotten attached to the characters; the writing's solid and the voice acting is generally pretty great. It's just not quite tailored to my specific tastes. Ok, back to what I originally wrote: This podcast feels a lot more mainstream/conventional in its tropes than the others. Unlike most of the podcasts I listen to, the medium is invisible to the characters: it's not pitched as a radio show or a voice recorder or a series of motivational tapes. To me, this adds another layer of remove between the audience and the story. It's fine, it's just very straightforward in its presentation, with no medium-specific conceit or anything. It’s not really outsider art in any sense, and could legitimately be a TV show if it had the budget. That's a pretty good description of the show as a whole, honestly. It makes no pretense at being high-concept, it just does what it does. Queerness: This one...is not very queer. One of the side characters is gay but it doesn't really come up a lot. There's also a gay minor character that gets mentioned but never appears, and it's kind of a running gag that the gay character has a thing for the main character, who insists he's straight. It's a gross trope and I kind of winced at it, but it's usually framed by other characters as "are you sure you're not interested, because [gay character] is way out of your league and you're really not going to do better," which mitigates it somewhat for me? Also, gurer ner uvagf gung gur znva punenpgre zvtug npghnyyl or vagrerfgrq va gur tnl punenpgre, but only time will tell whether it's queerbaiting or not. Look, it's not an ideal situation. If it’s a dealbreaker, I totally understand, especially since there's no clear answer to the "is this queerbaiting" question and due to some unfortunate creator health issues, we might not get one for a while. Genre: ducking out of the way as a harried-looking man in a lab coat and stethoscope pelts down the hallway, yelling "GET ME FIVE UNITS OF ALIEN SEX POLLEN, STAT!"

Airing

The Strange Case of Starship Iris

I love this show a disproportionate amount, given that only four episodes have aired. This is a newer podcast, and one I stumbled on completely by accident! I wasn't expecting much, but it was sci-fi and the main character's last name was Liu, so I decided to give it a shot. And then it turned out to be not only awesome but also totally queer! I think I actually said "HAH! YES!" out loud when the queerness was canonized within the first few minutes. (This is why I live alone.) Plus, this is a small thing from a throwaway line, but...the main character weighs roughly the same amount as I do. Do you know how often that happens with Asian characters? Never, is how often. For possibly the first time in my life, I feel like I can legitimately headcanon a main character who looks exactly like me. I'm definitely going to do some incredibly self-indulgent fanart at some point. Unprecedented overidentifying with the main character aside: honestly, it's like this podcast was tailor-made for me. MAJOR SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 1 (and kind of 2): Vafrpher ovbybtvfg wbvaf ent-gnt perj bs fzhttyref jvgu n sbhaq-snzvyl ivor naq nyvra phygheny pynfurf, nyy senzrq va n fvavfgre zrgnaneengvir gung hfrf gur zrqvhz nf n cybg qrivpr, CYHF cbgragvny ebznapr orgjrra na Rnfg Nfvna jbzna naq n Fbhgu Nfvna jbzna? Um, sign me the fuck up.  The only downside is that this has definitely raised my expectations for new podcasts by an unreasonable amount. Every new podcast I've tried since Starship Iris has been vaguely disappointing. My podcast standards are way too high now, and it's all Starship Iris's fault.

Queerness: YES. The main character is a queer woman, there's a nonbinary alien species and the alien crew member uses they/them pronouns, and there's a trans guy. Also, this is wild speculation, but V guvax/oryvrir/ubcr gung bar bs gur bgure srznyr perj zrzoref vf orvat frg hc nf n ebznagvp vagrerfg sbe gur znva punenpgre. There's some explicit discussion of gender identity in a non-traumatic way which tbh is like water in the freaking desert.

Genre: ??? it's too new and I love it too much to assign it a genre. 

The Bright Sessions

As I said in the spoiler-free summary: this is everything I wanted X-Men to be. Hell, it's everything I ever want superhero stories to be, and it's why I've been drawn to superhero stories since I was a teenager. The Bright Sessions deals with the complex consequences of, e.g., having empathy powers as a teenager while learning how to manage your own emotions and maturity. The main character is Dr. Bright, a therapist specializing in people with superpowers, which naturally provides the perfect angle for those people to get really navel-gazey about their lives. There is an actual overarching plot with a shadowy government agency, of course, but that's definitely not what I'm here for and luckily that’s clearly just a vehicle for the feelings.

Queerness: One of the main characters has a m/m romance arc; another main character is asexual; a side character (who may soon be considered a main character?) is bisexual. Because the conceit is therapy sessions, Dr. Bright does inquire delicately about how her patients may or may not be coping with emerging/existing queer identities, but none of them find it traumatic.

Genre: telekinetically fiddling with a desk puzzle limned in afternoon sun, as the doctor asks: "And how does that make you feel?"

The Penumbra Podcast

I'd had the Penumbra Podcast on my radar/subscriptions list for a while, but I'd never quite finished the first episode...until the remastered/rewritten first story was released. The difference is astronomical. The creators talk about audio quality etc. in their reasoning for recreating the first story, but for me, the main distinction is the skill in storytelling and the confidence to create noir without relying on questionable tropes to signal "hard-boiled!!!" I sometimes think the writing and characterizations are a little broad, but that may be down to genre. Penumbra doesn't really go for 'subtle' or 'realistic.' An important format note: there's a main character with episodic adventures, but in between the two-part adventures, there are one-shots in various genres. I actually skipped most of the one-shots because I'm not great with horror or kid stories.

Queerness: The main character of the main story is queer (jvgu na qryvtugshyyl rzbgvbanyyl pbafgvcngrq z/z ebznapr nep gung'f abg va n terng cynpr evtug abj), as are numerous side characters. It's a noir pastiche, though, so the main character is pretty self-sabotaging in all areas of his life; a 'happy ending' doesn't seem incredibly likely. One of the stand-alone stories is a queer Western, which I found delightful. It's also one of the few stand-alone stories that has a bonus follow-up episode.

Genre: taking a long, slow drag on a cigarette as the rain blurs the neon lights and filth of the alien city below.

Ars Paradoxica

Ars Paradoxica shares a producer with The Bright Sessions, which is why I tried it! Like all decent time travel stories, Ars Paradoxica is meticulously planned with a lot of moving parts. The worldbuilding is intense and requires actually paying attention, which can be challenging for me since I typically listen to podcasts while multitasking.  Frankly, it moves a little slow for me...which is odd to say about a show that regularly has timeskips of months or years and literally involves time travel. I guess I feel that way because there's a lot of attention paid to the action and plot, but less to the emotional character arcs. And obviously my narrative preferences run a certain way, so I'm only really paying attention to the character stuff. Which, to be fair, certainly exists and is carried through well—it's just not in my preferred proportions. Plus, the cast is quite sprawling compared to most other podcasts, and the tone is almost Crapsack World but not quite. 

Queerness: The main character is explicitly asexual and briefly explains it, and there are a handful of queer side characters. It's semi-historical, and there's some discussion of managing visibility etc. 

Genre: staring into the dusty gears of a massive clock running backwards as the minute hand slowly approaches a blinking red light.

[mayphoenix]

Why I Need Johnlock to Happen

This is long and personal and I need to get it off my chest so I can get on with my life.  Please bear with me. In mid-December, I received word that my ex-wife, a woman with whom I shared 23 years of my life and to whom I was legally married in 2005 (but separated in 2010), had been diagnosed with brain tumors.  In April of 2016, one month after we divorced (it wasn’t recognized in our state until the SCOTUS ruling; once that passed, I filed), I was told she had been diagnosed with lung cancer.  She had undergone chemo and in September tested clear.  But it came back three months later, and on January 4, 2017, she passed.   When I found out she was dying, I tried to make contact.  I wanted to clear the air, make peace, and most of all, forgive her before she left this world.  You see, ours was not a healthy relationship.  It never is when your partner turns out to be a narcissistic sociopath who gaslights you on a daily basis and occasionally abuses you physically.  She was twenty years older but age never mattered to me.  I loved her.  And yes, just as John has a thing for dangerous people, as a survivor of child abuse, I always seemed to find myself drawn to people who hurt me.  Which is perhaps why I will spend the rest of my days alone, singular; aside from being damaged goods (something nobody wants), I now have serious trust issues. Things got so bad at one point that I suffered a mental breakdown. It was then that I began seeing a therapist.  I was diagnosed with PTSD, severe chronic depression, and anxiety disorder.  As soon as I began to receive treatment, I began to see the problems in my life for what they were.  I could have escaped but instead, I believed I could fix it.  That whole “love conquers all” thing.  Well, I tried to get my partner to work with me, to meet me halfway, but the thing about narcissists is that they never change.  She walked out on me.  I begged her to stay and just be friends and roommates, but if she couldn’t control me I guess she didn’t want anything to do with me.  Attempts to be civil and friendly after that failed, too.  She continued to act one way with me and a different way with other people, and she had everyone fooled...the way she had me fooled...but I’m the one who was left scarred for life.  I had been closer to her than anyone else in this lifetime.  She was my soulmate, for better or worse, and once upon a time I thought we would be together to the end of our days.  

Death changes things.  I’ve long held the saying “Life is Too Short” as a personal mantra and even have a tattoo on my hand to commemorate someone who was taken too soon, to remind me of this fact.  So despite everything that happened, all the water under the proverbial bridge, I reached out to my ex as soon as I knew she was dying.  Sadly, I was denied a last chance to see her by her caretakers, her friends who were also the executors of her estate.  Come to find out, they all hate me; in their eyes, I am the villain.  They don’t know what she did to me.  Why would they?  They only know what she told them about me.  These were once mutual friends but after the breakup they chose sides.  Her side, to be exact.  Thank goodness not everyone was fooled: there are others who got to see a glimpse -- people who knew her before we met, people who came to visit for a few days and got to see the way she talked down to me, pushed my buttons, etc.  Many of them apologized to me after the fact, saying “I saw what she was doing to you but I didn’t do anything” or “I knew what she was like and I should have warned you.”  And you know what? I don’t blame them.  Even police officers hate answering domestic abuse calls.  When put on the spot, very few people really know what to do or say.  If I blame anyone, it is myself, because I had been too trusting, and not strong enough to fight back or stand up or walk away.  And for that, I need to learn to forgive myself.

And while I couldn’t say it to her in person, I did forgive my ex for what she did to me.  I’ve said this many times over in the past month.  When I left that courthouse last March, I cried, “I’m free!”  Because I was.  Up until that point, there had still been a legal tie to her (again, even if it was not recognized in our state).  I did not realize the emotional ties would still be there.  I had no idea she was going to be dead eight months later, or that her death would have such a powerful impact on me.  I say this all the time: I would never wish cancer on anyone, even my worst enemy.  And she wasn’t my enemy.  I didn’t hate her.  I hated what she did to me but in the end I held no ill will against her.  I also know from years of being with her that she never wanted to be kept alive with treatments if she was terminal, she would always tell me “Put a gun in my hand, I’ll take care of it myself.”  I was told she wasn’t able to make any decisions for herself toward the end.  Others made those choices for her, her friends/caregivers.  They put her through painful, unnecesssary treatments.  If we had still been together, I never would have allowed her to suffer.  She never wanted that and I’m sorry she had to go through it.

I was doing dishes, listening to Spotify, and “Since the Last Goodbye” by The Alan Parsons Project started to play.  That was one of our favorite groups, and the song is about two people who thought they’d always be together, whose lives were entwined, but all they had left were memories.  When I returned to my computer an hour later, I saw the news: my ex had passed.  I will always believe that song came on my shuffle as her final farewell to me; after all, there are no such thing as coincidences.  

I began to grieve.  I sobbed and I wailed.  I was depressed and angry and sad all day and late into the night.  Thankfully, I have friends who let me call them and cry on their shoulders long-distance.  They encouraged me to focus on the good times -- because we did have good times -- and that my grief was normal because I had spent 23 years with this person (the greater part of my life, at the time of separation).  You don’t share every waking moment of your life with another human being, see them at their best and their worst, and not feel something.  Even if they hurt you.  You still grieve.  

A few days after her death, one of her friends -- one of the people I had contacted in my attempt to see her one last time -- posted a public statement about how I was deceitful and only reached out so I could get something (admittedly, I saw they had started a Gofundme for her funeral and the cost to clean out her apartment, and I wondered if they meant to throw everything away but I did not ask for anything; I did, however, want to know what would happen to her cat, which had been one of ours and she took with her when she left).  This person, whom I had always adored, said my ex had spoken of me with compassion (which I find hard to believe, going by things she’d said to other friends about me following the breakup); she went on to say that she had only tolerated me for my ex (they were friends five years before we got together).  I was warned to stay away (so I can’t even attend the funeral), that I should expect nothing, and if I tried to contact anyone...well, let’s just say it came across as a threat.  

I was gutted all over again.  I felt despondent, in a state of shock and disbelief.  This is the salt in the wound, being painted as the bad guy, as some kind of monster.  Some of them think I was the one who left the relationship but the truth is she walked out on me.  She made that choice.  She even told me I would not survive a year without her and yet here I am, now seven years on my own.  I have survived -- barely -- but even so I swore to myself I would ever go back to the way things were before, not after having my eyes opened.

So.  With all that said, the reason I need Johnlock to happen is because I need a Happily Ever After.  I need John and Sherlock, two damaged souls (like me), to have the happy ending I never got.  At the end of TLD, we saw the glimmer of hope that they could come back from everything they had been through, that their relationship has a chance to not only survive but also evolve and become something greater and stronger.  Because they are soulmates.  They are meant to be together, against all odds.  They are supposed to forgive each other and change for each other, adapt to one another and fulfill what each other needs most.  Because that, my friends, is LOVE.  They have both suffered and they deserve some happiness.  I want them to have the happiness I will never have, that I always wanted and needed.  It breaks my heart to see them hurting.  

Yes, I know they’re fictional characters.  But here’s the thing: Sherlock Holmes and John Watson were my first example of Perfect, Unconditional Love when I was a child of eight years old and reading Sir Arthur Conan-Doyle’s stories.  With the innocence of a child who was abused by her father, whose parents went through a nasty divorce, and who sought love and acceptance wherever she could find it, I saw in those pages a companionship that went beyond that of friends.  I knew these men loved each other, and even if the language was different -- 19th century Victorian vs. 1970s American -- I took it at face value and in the simplest of terms: Holmes and Watson loved each other and would always be together.  They were and are two halves that made a whole.  I aspired to have what they had.  I had thought I’d found it, too.  But I was wrong, and because of that experience (and a few other brief and equally unsatisfying attempts at relationships -- like I said, I tend to be drawn to the wrong people) I am jaded...but only for myself.  Just because same-sex marriage didn’t work for me doesn’t mean I’m against it for everyone.  I want to see other people have what I couldn’t have.  I want them to be happy.  I need it, because seeing it is the only thing that gives me hope anymore.  I have many friends who are same-sex couples and happily, legally married, and I’m so glad they have each other and it’s working for them.  

But I just need to see John and Sherlock have that, too.  Just once, just one incarnation, and this has to be The One.  In my lifetime, I need this.  I need to believe in Johnlock because I need to believe in love again.  That there is redemption for the broken misfits like me, the weary soldiers who have survived personal battles, the misunderstood freaks and social outcasts who think all they deserve is to be alone.  

Please, let this happen.