#and quickness is important to her bc the articles she writes and the stories she publishes are very sensitive in time

[zuhuraha]

i think fareeda’s choices when it comes to seeking out people is always so interesting to me because she doesn’t care to look at the surface level. due to her abilities and especially her clairvoyance and precognition, she has a certain sense when she not only looks at objects but also people. she may not be able to know everything at first, but the sense is strong enough for her to know what her next step will be. it’s why the people she surrounds herself with are people others find to be untrustworthy because fareeda cares very little about how they show themself in public and what they say about themselves and to other. she values potential and actions and she values people who know how to get things done, no matter how they do it. to her, as a journalist especially, that is very important because she lives in a world where naivety is dangerous so she leans more towards people who know how to do things effectively

[sydneyofalltrades]

Okay here is my post about my Ride the Cyclone ✨animation/animatic✨ ideas I’ve been formulating but never really posted bc I cannot draw for the life of me 🥲

@gay-little-axolotl read at your own risk (you’ll be here a while, trust me)

Karnak’s Dream of Life

Basically the exact same as in the show, headless body singing eerily, finding a little doll and popping off the head

there’s a shot of Karnak’s machine at the end of the song which snaps into Welcome…, which is just talk so we don’t need to animate that shit

Fall Faire Suite/Uranium Suite

Since I love them both, I’m writing their ideas both in the same category

When the kids start singing at the beginning of the song, all six of them are in the bandshell, Penny included

However, every time we think we actually get a good look at Penny, something coincidentally blocks her face, whether it be Mischa’s figure, Ocean’s arm, a quick shot of Ricky playing the tambourine, shit like that

The world is in full color while the kids are alive (I’ll explain why that’s important in a sec)

As Karnak explains how the kids got into the accident, we see them get into the coaster*, Ricky needing help from Mischa and Noel, and we see the ride function as normal

In Uranium Suite, you can hear Jane vocalizing ominously in the background, and that little warning sign is present in the way the kids are all a little tense

Once Karnak says “hurtling the children to their deaths,” the color is gone. The kids are drawn in white outlines and all there is is a black screen

During Fall Faire Suite, each kid goes back in color as they speak, only for it to disappear once they’re done

During the “sailing through space” bit, they’re back on the coaster, in slow motion as it falls, then quickly cuts to them in purgatory

“Empty streets of empty shops” has Ocean taking apart little buildings and Constance scooping up the pieces to make a mall

“Smart ones all packed up and went” has Noel dragging out a bunch of suitcases and Mischa labeling the abandoned houses for sale

Very few visuals of Penny are shown, like she disappeared without a trace

“Did we finally leave our town?” has them all in color for a second, then back to white.

Meet Jane Doe

Ocean whispers her line, Karnak says his, and BAM! Spotlight from nowhere

Foreshadowing TBOJD, Jane floats as she’s introduced, and touches ground once she speaks

As she speaks, flashes of the aftermath of the incident show up

“They found my body/not my head” has professionals finding the kids’ bodies, and flashlights looking for Penny’s head

“No parents came” actually has a little boy with a black cape running to the headless girl, screaming a name no one hears

“My life, an unsolved mystery” has pictures of Penny with the choir, her face always strategically covered

What the World Needs

Here we go with the solos!! Ocean’s in color in her song, along with everything she interacts with, the others are in black and white

Ocean wears a varsity jacket with her name in the back, along with a blue shirt that says “Vote for Ocean!” with her hair in a ponytail with a bandana

The others are dressed in “Vote Ocean” propaganda, but whenever Ocean herself insults them, they become newspaper clippings of the people she’s calling them (sandwich artist, security guard, Wal-Mart greeter)

“The move” has Ocean dancing in a club

“The shake” has an earthquake that is covered by a statue of her

“The headline maker” has a newspaper thrown on screen with a headline saying “World’s Greatest Woman!” and a snazzy picture of Ocean

During the second verse, as Ocean is berating Mischa, Constance, and Ricky, there’s a story book-esque animation of each of her interpretations of their lives, under smaller, less important articles

“And as we move through life” is a sliding shot of Ocean standing on top of the world, with the others tiny and insignificant

As the “zeros” bit happens, a big fat 0 is written over everyone’s newspaper picture, and Ocean rips up the paper as she just shoves the thought aside

For the climax, the world spins as Ocean stands on top of it, with the others just barely catching up to admire her and her glory

Final shot is EXACTLY like the 2016 promo shot, her on top of everyone in a human pyramid

Noel’s Lament (TW: drinking, smoking, mu*der, s//h)

Now Noel’s Lament was more fluid for me to think of. Noel himself and his reality is grey, but when he sings about Monique or from her perspective, the world is bright and alive

Noel doesn’t do the quick change, it’s a transition shot from his iconic pose to Monique in a similar stance

The “good girls call me the town bicycle” is Constance and Jane in their costumes (beauteous dresses of the time) whispering while Monique walks past

Claude is Ocean. I will not elaborate (psst she’s in a suit with the cutest low ponytail)

“Ten! Times! In! His! Back!” shows the stabbing, but cuts to Monique holding a cigarette innocently

“Never ending carnival” is a revolving shot of Monique’s hand holding booze, a cigarette, and another man’s hand

The accordion (piano if you’re a 2016 bootleg fan) solo has the little nischa dance, i literally cannot take that away

“I think I am in love with you” cuts to a close up of Monique’s eyes widening a little, whether in fear or in recollection, I’ll leave that up to you

“I give in to the fantasy” is like a little spicy cut, that’s all im saying

“for i sing sONGs” has people passing Monique by as she trips on the road scrounging up some loose change, and she moves into an empty alleyway

Time passes a little, and there are deep lines in Monique’s face and her eyes are heavy with lack of sleep

“In some rat infested Chinese dive” is just Monique smoking alone in an alleyway, pressing the hot cigarette to her arm to try and get a reaction

“Eight months later” is Noel telling the story, then the little gasp is a quick shot of Monique’s eyes filling with tears

We see her forced out of the house and she desperately drags herself through an alley

She’s slumped against a wall when Ricky as the priest approaches her

During the first “for I sing songs,” we see through Monique’s hazy eyes as she spots a bottle of booze and drags herself towards it

We see her drink it, and then her hand goes limp and the bottle shatters

In the real world, Noel’s now in costume, standing on that chair

During the climax, Noel’s singing face is projected over flashes of Monique’s life, her tragedy shown in clips and hastily sewn together

And finally, the song ends with Noel draped against the chair, the others surrounding him

Every Story’s Got a Lesson

Short and simple, but Ocean snaps about Noel’s song and Karnak deadpans

As Ocean says “No.. every story has a lesson!” she finds a grad cape and cap and throws it on

As she sings, a blackboard appears with the words of the song written in chalk

The others, also in capes and caps, whistle and sing along

Somehow Karnak gets a hat on his head too

This Song is Awesome

Unlike Ocean and Noel, since being a rapper isn’t Mischa’s dream or desire, he’s black and white while the others are in full color, along with the contents of his music video

You read that right. Music. Video.

Specifically a music video shot by a seven year old with a short attention span and edited by a bunch of preschoolers

Not that it’s bad, it’s just got focus on things that are irrelevant, the editing goes insane, there’s a brief moment where Jane is literally photoshopped into the sky (TBOJD ref hehe)

Mischa wears a black and gold tracksuit but since it’s black and white you wouldn’t really tell

The others are Mischa’s background dancers, wearing blue and white

Basically every single time Mischa says “awesome,” the word is like edited onto the screen like a history teacher’s presentation

There are really good shots tho, like Mischa driving a convertible to the Hard Rock Cafe with Noel and Ricky

Surprisingly there is a Learjet in the video, no one really knows how that got there

The girls are all fawning over him in the club and then he sees a girl wearing punkish clothes and a white flowy skirt and the music video falls apart

Talia

The second Mischa lays eyes on Talia, the color slightly blooms into the video and he walks over to her

Instead of a photo of her, he genuinely talks to her, and you can see the love and care he has for her

When the others come back, they’re not in a club anymore, they’re out in a garden in a traditional Ukrainian wedding

While the girls escort “Talia,” who’s now been replaced with Jane, the boys help Mischa get prepared

When Mischa and Jane finally do interact, instead of Jane’s doll face, it’s Talia’s big brown eyes and warm smile that greets Mischa

They dance together, happily in love, with the others singing cheerfully in the background

Then Talia is suddenly ripped away from Mischa as he falls, falls, falls from the rollercoaster

As he does, his phone, also falling, flashes a picture of Talia on the lock screen

Mischa’s now in normal clothes, staring at the picture, while the others just dance around him, it’s a whole vibe

Then it cuts to Mischa and Talia in a grainy video, Mischa picks Talia up, spins her around, and she kisses him

Space Age Bachelor Man

I have SO MANY ideas for this song so this is gonna be LONG!

Song starts with Ricky alone, a single spotlight illuminating him in black and white.

“Others from outer space” has a peculiar spacecraft arriving in front of Ricky

Once those claps start, you know it’s gonna be wild

The spacecraft opens and spills a light that makes Ricky come into color, and the boys, in Zolarian couture, alert Ricky of their duty

When Ricky arrives on Zolar, the girls, now space aliens with tails and cat ears, practically throw themselves into his arms

“The naughty/holy daughters of the realm” has a shot of Ricky being crowdsurfed (for lack of a better term) through a sea of cat ladies

Um before the guitar solo, Ricky kisses Cat!Ocean. I don’t make the rules

Now the.. that scene is kept covered for a reason, so naturally I’d also just use shadows to convey wtf is happening then

“Now there is a new challenge” has the boys worried in front of holographic screens showing K-9’s enemy fleet

“For they’re at war with K-9!” had Ricky bursting out with the wildest, sexiest, most glittery costume you could EVER expect and it is everything to me

Suddenly everyone’s holding a laser gun and that makes Ricky freak out

So instead of announcing war, he goes to a podium and explains his desire of peace, which is broadcast to K-9’s fleet (idk how, i just think it’s funny)

“And they listened/and they heard my message” is Ricky breaking the fourth wall, pausing the action Emperor’s New Groove style before going back to the scheduled programming

The rest of the song is basically then partying in the spacecraft as it sends Ricky back home to Earth

The Ballad of Jane Doe

Jane, in a plain white dress, is alone. And everything is black and white. Not a single sliver of color anywhere

Everyone else is in funeral wear, however they pay no attention to Jane, like she was never human to begin with

We see Jane play with the decapitated doll and a rollercoaster toy, watching as it went up, then fall out of the seat

Every so often a flash of color and the faintest hint of a life beyond Jane is shown, but it’s so brief there’s no way to actually see it

As Jane begs St. Peter to let her into heaven(?), Jane tries to look for a helping hand but no one assists

“Wont you tell me at last who I am?” has Jane reaching out, not just to the sky, but to the funeral goers who can’t seem to notice her

Then we cut to Ja/enny (flashes between perspectives) in the rollercoaster, and how she lost her head

As Jane starts flying, her pleads become angry, more scornful since no one is giving her answers, but she’s still getting only tiny flashes. Not even a face, just a feeling or an emotion

“Time eats all his children” is Jane standing ominously, slowly pointing out into the non-existent crowd

“A melody floats through the air” has her flying through the funeral, the others ignoring her as she desperately tries to find herself. Her name

She flies through the graves, her desperation becoming more and more apparent

There’s a flash of a baby, a little boy, a monkey puppet, a thermos

Then Jane stops in front of a freshly dug grave, and she knows it’s her own. But its headstone is unmarked

And she just cries as the funeral goers surround the tomb of the empty girl

The New Birthday Song

Also short and sweet

Everyone wears a birthday outfit and Jane has the cape and hat

As she stands in the middle of the circle, holding the cupcake, the others dance around her

Then Constance gently nudged her arm and gestures to the cupcake

(Jane tries to eat it but Constance blows it out first)

Jawbreaker & Sugar Cloud

Lumping them both bc of the themes

We see the accident through Constance’s eyes. See the way it rose, then suddenly fell

“My heart just welled up” is a shot of Constance’s eyes widening, her terrified face morphing gently into a smile

As this happens, the flashbacks of the mundane things Constance learned to love are shown over it. We see her going back to bed, hanging upside down, her brother, her friends

And she starts to laugh as the coaster falls. And tears spill from her eyes as she does

In the present, Constance, in white outlining, wipes away her tears and collects herself for Sugar Cloud

As the song begins, we see a little flashback of Constance as a little girl given her first jawbreaker. She’s excited, then starts slowly sucking away the layers and gets visibly disappointed

“At first it seems so sweet” shows some clips of Constance growing up, and then she just loses the sparkle in her eye and spring in her step

Then the song starts to pick up and color arrives, everywhere as Constance just siblings merrily

Constance and the others aren’t in the warehouse anymore, they’re in the skies of blue, pink, gold, and purple

Constance jumps through a gold, pink, and blue cloud and emerges with her outfit, a pink jacket over a gold top and blue flats. A pink top hat attached to a headband is on her head

Twirling a cane, Constance genuinely sings happily with the others as they dance and jump through the multicolored clouds

The recorder solo is as memorable as always, with the others hyping Connie on by dancing and cheering excitedly

With no guilt in her heart, Constance happily shouts from the top of the sugary puffs her love for everything in her life, and the others happily back her up

It’s Not a Game/It’s Just a Ride

At this point in time, everyone’s back in their normal uniforms, drawn in their white outlines

The portal’s light gives Jane color, as she’s the one the others picked

Before Jane goes through the portal, she hugs Constance and Ricky, then steps through

A slideshow of clips appear showing of Penny’s life, before and after LEGOLAND, and the others all cuddle together to watch

As the slideshow goes by, the others are overlayed above it, so we can see their expressions now that Penny was brought back

As Penny grows older, she’s closer to her brother, she gets married, has children, is happy

When the slideshow starts showing clips of Penny growing much older, a clip is shown of children pointing at a picture

Older Penny takes a look at it and smiles. “They were my friends,” she seems to say, gently holding the picture of her and the choir

As she dies, Karnak says his final line as Virgil cuts the power cable

As sparks fly and the kids huddle close, they learn they’re not five. They’re six

Penny had come back to the afterlife after her death and the six of them were alone, in their white outlines

“But it’s not a game, it’s not a game” has Ocean picking up pieces of their outfits. A “Vote Ocean” pin, a feather boa, and black and gold cap, a cat ear headband, a doll with no head, a headband with a hat

“It’s just a ride!” has the kids in their outfits actually riding the Cyclone in full color, passing the loop that ended their lives and finishing the ride

*Now that they finished the ride in the afterlife, they all get out of the rollercoaster and reminisce about life together

“We’re all just sailing through space” is the kids as they revolve through all their outfits of the show, while talking about their lives, and their death

“It’s just a ride” has them all holding hands and spinning around, wearing the outfits for their individual songs

Then they fall to the floor and smile as they’re all together again

“And the world will keep on spinning/With no ending or beginning” has flashes of their songs, Ocean’s victory pose, Noel’s dramatic end, Mischa stopping his video, the couple’s fateful kiss, Ricky and his cat warriors, Penny taking Jane’s place on her named grave, and Constance in sugary clouds

Now in their uniforms, the Saint Cassian Chamber Choir is just a group of friends, who are all together and happy in the afterlife forever

“I know this dream of life is never ending” cuts to a girl with French braids waking up on the ground. She stands up and sees the light of the sun

“It goes around and ‘round and ‘round again” shows six friends, bonded by fate and together through time

THIS IS PROBABLY MY LONGEST EVER POST BUT I LOVE IT SO HAHA

[bookishofalder]

hi! i just recently found ur account and love it💞💞 can i request adam driver x reader and they are dating. reader is a bit younger and he gets jealous over one of her guy friends bc he thinks she deserves someone younger than him. & it ends super fluffy :)

@avengxrs423​

Yay, my first request! Thank you so much for the kind words. This was fun to write, I hope you enjoy!

Doubts

Pairing- Adam Driver X FemReader

Summary: Adam has always been aware of the age gap he has with his fiance. He tries to move past it, but a chance meeting with your famous old friend brings the worry crashing back.

Warnings: Language, insecurity, mild smut, paparazzi. WC-2,700

“Mr. Driver, over here! Miss (Y/L/N), this way!” Adam followed you out of the car, thanking the driver, his eyes on you as the crowd of reporters and paparazzi lined either side of the walkway into the restaurant. It was always these sorts of outings, where the press knew he’d be in attendance to a new hot spot, that made him nervous. Wary of how easily you could be accosted, even injured. He was nothing if not protective of you.

Standing closely next to you, Adam places his hand on your lower back, joining you in smiling around for the cameras as you slowly moved forward. His security team had the doors open ahead of you, mere steps away.

“Have you set a date for the wedding yet?”

“Let’s see the ring again, Miss. (Y/L/N)!”

“Mr. Driver, what do you have to say to fans who find the age gap between you to be too much?”

Adam worked actively not to react to the last question, his body tensing. When he looked down at you, he found you were already watching him, the glamorous smile still dazzling everyone, but he read the caution in your eyes. When you were both through the doors and they shut behind you, he began to breathe a little more freely, casting the reporter's rude question out of his mind.

He was taking you on a date and wanted to make sure the evening was special. His publicist had set it up, as this new restaurant was the current ‘place to be and be seen’ in New York City. While Adam could care less, he knew fans everywhere were chomping at the bit to see more of him and you together, in New York especially.

The makeup artist who won the movie star’s heart. It was a major headline when you first started dating publicly, which made you both laugh as Adam had to work to convince you he was interested, in the beginning. Newly engaged now, Adam could see the romance of it, could understand why fans enjoyed the story. But he hated, absolutely despised, how every damn article made sure to mention, directly or not, the age gap between the two of you.

He had had no intention of falling in love with anyone he worked with, he hadn’t been actively seeking-but you had shown up one day one and after one brief conversation, he was smitten. His feelings only grew over the two years you worked together, but he had hesitated greatly in acting on them, solely because you were 10 years younger than him.

When you finally got together, he felt like the luckiest man, that you would love him back, age be damned. You were cautious at first, eventually believing he genuinely wanted to be with you, not just have a fling. He had waited four months into the relationship to make it public (which was no easy feat, but you were supportive through all of it), and of course, the articles started on pointing it out straight away, some going as far as to point out where you were when he was enlisted in the Marines, or graduating Juilliard.

You told him it didn’t matter, repeatedly. And never got mad at him for fixating when a particularly brutal article was released. He had felt guilty many times that you had to comfort and reassure him so consistently, yet it made him love you even harder. And life went on, happily, your relationship solid.

When news broke that he had proposed, the articles started up with renewed fervour. He had been trying to hide from you just how much this upset him, how the doubt was creeping back into his mind...

Tonight was meant to be a sophisticated, romantic evening that served the double purpose of getting Adam press coverage before heading back to L.A. As you were shown to your table by the excited owner, Adam watched you chatting away with her, complimenting their design and success. You wore a beautiful hunter green dress made of satin, it fell to just above your knees and complimented your glowing skin perfectly. He was enraptured by you, whether your wore sweatpants, a dress-and especially when you wore nothing. Green was his favourite colour on you.

At the table reserved for the two of you, Adam helped you take your seat, his hand brushing gently against your hair, before taking his own. Annie and the waiter who had appeared handed you the course descriptions, before asking if you had any dietary needs. “Thank you so much, Annie-honestly just tell the chef we’re game for anything!” You said, grinning. Annie winked before setting off to the kitchen.

Adam nodded politely at the waiter, who took their drink orders, before sweeping away, finally giving him time to study you. “How do you like it?” He gestured around them, at the dark lit, moody and stylish venue. It was busy, filled mainly with notable celebrities, though he hadn’t seen anyone he’d met before. He hoped you liked it, not being one for going out to fancy dinners-you were a homebody, preferring to curl up with a good book.

“Adam, this is great! We haven’t been to a dinner like this in forever, and did you hear what Annie said?” You gushed, beaming, and Adam felt his worries washing away, “13 courses! 13! You’re going to have to carry me out of here, babe.”

“I’m fine with that,” He replied, enjoying the flush that spread across your cheeks. “But let’s be honest, you’re going to end up giving me half your food, pretty girl, you always do.”

You pouted, “I’m making a renewed effort tonight, just wait.”

Adam laughed, and the two of you settled in, the conversation flowing as you discussed the upcoming film Adam was starring in, of which you were working as his artist. The food was, as expected, incredible. Adam loved how you took a photo of each plate, even though neither of you had social media accounts. You still took photos of all the food you ate, just for the fun of it, or as you told him ‘simply to document our adventures!’.

It was around the ninth course that the evening took a turn.

A commotion at the doors captured the attention of some of the patrons. Adam glanced up, but from where your table was, he couldn’t see much. The paparazzi outside were shouting too loudly to decipher what they were saying, so it wasn’t until Adam saw your friend walk in, his brother and friend in tow, that he knew his mood was about to shift.

Tom Holland was one of the first celebrities you had worked with when you started working in L.A. And he’d always kept in touch, even when his own fame skyrocketed and before you were public with Adam. And actually, Adam did like the kid-he was beyond well mannered and genuine, and from the stories you had told, a very considerate friend. Tom’s glowing recommendation of your work was part of the reason Disney had hired you on for the Star Wars films, which was how Adam had met you.

Really, Adam had no reason not to love Tom Holland and be happy to see him arrive with his brother Harry and friend Harrison. It was just the minor, ridiculous concern Adam had that, being close in age, you and Tom were more much suited for one another. A concern that had poisoned his mind for your entire relationship.

Seeing his eyes over your shoulder, you turned to look where Adam had been and exclaimed in delight when you saw your friend. Adam quickly arranged his features to match yours, nerves shooting through him. Tom spotted you when you stood, in all your dazzling beauty, and grinned before making a beeline towards your table. The owner, Annie, had been leading the men to a nearby table and stood back politely while you all greeted one another.

“(Y/N), love! How are you?” Tom gave you a hug, “And Adam, good to see you mate!” Adam took his offered hand, giving a quick handshake. (Y/N) hugged the other two, chatting amicably.

“Good to see you, Tom-hi Harry, Harrison,” Adam greeted the other two before placing his hand on your lower back. Inwardly, he felt more stable in doing this, but he worried it would look possessive. If you thought so, you made no objection, stepping a little closer to his side while you beamed at your friends.

“I didn’t realize you’d be in New York this week, Tom!” You said, smacking his arm playfully.

Tom held his hands up as if in surrender, “It was completely last minute, just stopping off for two days before we head to L.A.” He glanced between the two of you, “I nearly forgot-congratulations again on the engagement! This is the first time I’ve seen you both in person since!”

Adam smiled, “We really appreciated the gift you sent, Tom-that was too kind.” And it had been quite the gift, in addition to a beautiful and extravagant flower arrangement, Tom had made a personal donation to Adam’s charity, Arts in the Armed Forces, and shared the charity on his social media. They’d had an influx of new donations from his fans and followers.

“Arts in the Armed Forces is incredibly important to Adam and me, Tom-you really knocked that gift out of the park.” (Y/N) agreed, her arm snaking around Adam’s waist with affection.

Tom waved off their thanks good-naturedly, “Well, we’re going to leave you to what looks very delicious-Annie, I’ll have what Adam and (Y/N) are having!” Tom grinned briefly at the owner, “And we’re still on for lunch when you both come to L.A. Next week, yeah?”

After assuring Tom they’d see him soon and bidding their farewells, Adam and you sat back down, diving back into your food. You chatted happily about bumping into Tom, which quickly transitioned into excitement for returning to L.A., as the cold of January in New York City was getting a little old for you both. You loved it here, were all too happy to call it home when your relationship escalated and Adam asked you to live with him. And though you both spent a lot of time away from your New York brownstone, it was always going to be home.

Adam worked to enjoy the rest of the evening, but he’d rather lost his appetite, the food tasteless on his tongue. Because seeing Tom had brought the wave of insecurity crashing back down on Adam, that you were too good for him, too young, that you deserved someone better, to be with someone who smiled more easily and with whom you shared more in common with. He knew you loved him, but his brain kept asking-did you realize what you could have if you broke up?

When you climbed into the car after dinner, having said warm goodbyes to Tom and his party and touring the kitchen with Annie to thank the chef and his team, Adam’s smile dropped. He sat back in his seat, confirming with the driver that he could take them home, before dropping his head against the headrest and closing the divider between the front and back seats.

“Adam?” Your voice cut through the silence after only a few moments, concern evident in your tone.

Adam glanced down at you next to him, softening when he looked into your wide eyes, “Sorry, sweetheart, what’s up?”

You frowned, turning in your seat to face him more directly, “I want you to tell me what’s up, you’ve been in a funny mood half the night-you okay?”

“I’m alright, just tired-that was a lot of food over a long time.” He shrugged, looking away. For a moment, he thought you were going to leave it at that, but he should have known better; one of the reasons he adored you was your commitment to being the most stubborn person in the room. In an instant, you undid your seatbelt and slid from your seat, carefully climbing over him so that you could straddle his lap, all of his attention now on you.

Adam’s hands went to your hips instinctively to hold you steady, as you glared at him, “Babe, I know you’re not saying it, and I don’t want you to feel forced here, but I thought we’d talked about this.” The car hit a minor bump and you sank into his lap, nearly bumping heads, from the force.

He gripped your hips tighter, “We did, I just...I can’t help it, I feel like-like I’m holding you back.” He murmured with his eyes on your stomach, shame flooding through him.

You sighed, not without affection, “Holding me back from what, exactly? You are my everything, Adam, and without you...I can’t even begin to imagine my life without you.”

You slid your hands from his chest to his neck, where they rested gently, thumbs brushing across the lower half of his jaw. Adam closed his eyes briefly, “But if you did imagine it, properly, you might see that someone like Tom-I mean, he’s your age, goes to more parties and events, you’d have more fun-“

Your mouth was on his, cutting off Adam’s words, his mind going blank. The feel of you against him, your lips on his, was more than enough to render him speechless. After a moment, you pulled back, your cheeks flushed and expression serious, “I understand that sometimes, we notice the age gap a little more because the press thinks it’s interesting, but Adam, I need you to understand. I need you to see just how much I do not care about any of that, what they say or think or even about the actual difference in our ages! I never think about it, because it has no effect whatsoever on how fucking madly in love with you I am.” (Y/N) cupped his face in her hands, holding his gaze.

“I-I love you too, so much, pretty girl,” He sighed, his emotions raw, “I just want the best for you, always.”

“You are the best for me, which is why I said yes to marrying you when you got down on one knee, in our apartment, wearing nothing but those ridiculous shorts. It’s why I’d say yes, again and again, Adam. Do you think I like going to parties? That I don’t have fun with you?” Your voice raised slightly in exasperation, while Adam stared at you in wonder; you’d never been so passionate about this before-despite having had the conversation many times, “I have an adventure every single day with you, I love everything about our lives together, and honestly, babe...” Your voice lowered considerably, a soft breathy croon now, “I can’t picture a guy like Tom treating me how you do, knowing exactly what I need from a man, always taking such good care of me.”

She punctuated these words by grinding against him, her eyes darkening in arousal. Adam groaned at the sensation, “Pretty girl, you’re too good for me.”

(Y/N) smiled at Adam, “No, I’m just right for you and you’re just right for me.”

“Damn it, I love you!” He gasped, before sliding one hand from your hip to the back of your neck and pulling you close, his lips on yours before you could reply. You let out a small whimper, melting into him. Your arms circled around his neck, and Adam could feel the intent in your body, the overwhelming need to send him the message that he was yours, and you-you were his.

“I love you, Adam, forever.” You sighed against his lips, deepening the kiss further.

All thoughts that weren’t of (Y/N) kissing him in the back of their town car, soared from Adam’s mind. His new focus on getting you home, so that he could show you just how much he appreciated your patience and understanding. And as you shivered from his touch, his name on your lips, you successfully and unknowingly convinced Adam his doubts were unwarranted, that you loved him endlessly, as he loved you.

[unbridgeabledistances]

here is a part 2 of my valentine’s day one-shot from the other day!! part 3 of them actually celebrating is coming fri, but wanted to make it a lil countdown:) also big creds to @udontfuckangie for their post about ian getting mickey stargazer lilies for valentines bc it… truly made me feel so many things and i had to write this

--

Ian didn’t really remember ever celebrating Valentine’s Day for real— not like everyone else in middle school or high school, like when Lip was off buying flowers for girls or Mandy was trying to get the guy she liked to ask her out— but he definitely remembered celebrating it as a kid, when he’d have to scrounge up some shoebox from under his bed and bring it to his overcrowded classroom to cover with colorful construction paper and make shitty valentines to swap with his friends. Those were the days when Frank was around some, and so was Monica— he remembered one year, when he was maybe 5 or 6, when Monica was there and he had come home with a thin pink slip of paper from his teacher saying that he needed to bring in valentines for his class. Monica had whisked him down the street to the dollar store where they’d ransacked the rickety shelves of all the art supplies they could carry, and then they sat at the kitchen table for hours gluing glitter to cut-out hearts.

So maybe that’s why Ian’s heart had melted last Sunday, when Franny had mentioned that she needed to buy valentines for her class at school— Ian knew it was stupid, or whatever, but he knew how far a few solid childhood memories could go in this neighborhood, how those types of moments were the stuff you lived on for years afterwards when things got harder and darker. So while he’d been caught up in so much shit lately, for a couple of hours on that Sunday afternoon all Ian wanted was for Franny to soak up that feeling like a sponge—to make memories with her like the good ones that he’d had with Monica, the ones that stood out and burned in his chest like a hot branding iron when he remembered them.

And then a yawning, sleep-soft Mickey had stumbled into the kitchen, and the three of them were nestled beside each other at the table doing fucking arts and crafts; and for some reason it made Ian’s blood run hotter than usual, and got him thinking about how fuck it, he wanted to give Mickey a Valentine’s Day this year— not in the weird, heteronormative bullshit way, but in the way that he could just kind of… show Mickey how much he meant to him, how Mickey still made his heart feel like it was going to explode out of his ribcage even after the years they’d been together. This was the longest time that he and Mickey had ever been together consecutively, the longest time they’d slept side by side before something dark curled its fingers around them and pulled them apart, and he wanted to do something to acknowledge that— something to start their forever, as fucking cheesy as that sounded.

Of course, Mickey had no concept of Valentine’s Day or any of that shit, which made the whole thing all the more perfect— Ian wanted to catch him off guard, wanted to pull them both out of the funk that had been hovering over them for the months after the wedding, when everything turned brittle and stale once the bills started to pile up. They were better now—or at least they were trying to be— but it still meant something that half of their time being married had been spent navigating a fucking global pandemic and squabbling with each other and barely making ends meet.

So now it was the day before Valentine’s Day, and Ian was standing on a busy Chicago street corner in the bitter cold, watching the bundled passersby briskly walk by to scramble inside and stave off the chill. Ian hadn’t been to this neighborhood since his days working at the club, or maybe once or twice when he was hanging out with people from the youth center; the pristine glass storefronts with minimalist displays nearly blinded Ian’s eyes after the past ten months of being accustomed to the crumbling paint-chipped architecture of the South Side. But he was here on a mission; in front of him stood the high-end, boujee as fuck florist’s shop, one of the top-rated ones in the city according to the quick search he’d plugged into his phone.

Ian normally didn’t give a shit about stuff like this— to him, a flower was a flower, and a chair for a wedding was just a goddamn chair— but he knew Mickey, for some reason this sappy shit was a whole lot more important to him, no matter how hard Mickey tried to hide it. All the symbols and the fanfare meant something to Mickey—it meant that they’d made it, that they got to have a normal fucking life together, beyond both of their wildest dreams. So if Ian had to brave a stupid, gentrifying flower shop on a chilly Friday afternoon to make Mickey happy, then that was what he was going to do.

A soft bell tinkled as Ian entered the shop, immediately surrounded by the nearly-bare shelves of minimalist bouquets. The store was incredibly cramped and narrow, with overly-peppy music playing low, and was packed tight with wire-rimmed glasses wearing, re-usable bag toting hipsters standing in a line all the way to the counter. Shit. This line was going to take all day—and who the fuck knew if they even had what Ian was looking for? A looming pang of desperation started to churn in the pit of his stomach as he lurked by the doorway. Fuck it, he had to do this.

Before Ian really processed what he was doing he was quickly darting past the line, getting a series of dirty looks from everyone he shuffled by.

“S’cuse me, coming through, floral emergency.”

Finally, he reached the counter, sliding in beside some girl in her mid-twenties with a punk haircut. “Uh, sorry, can I just ask if they have what I’m looking for real quick?”

The girl rolled her eyes. “If you’re desperate enough to cut the fucking line, I’d say you’re worse off than I am. Men are fucking clueless.”

Ian nearly grimaced, but tried to twist his face into a soft, grateful smile. “Thank you.” He turned to the cashier at the counter, a dude with a man bun and a floral button-up shirt who looked pretty amused by this whole situation.

“It’s the day before Valentine’s Day, honey. Everyone here is in a floral emergency.” The cashier sighed, looking Ian up and down appraisingly. “What’re you looking for?”

“Uh. I think they’re called… stargazer lilies? The ones that bloom at a specific time, or something? We were supposed to have them at my wedding, but then the venue got burnt down by my husband’s homophobic father, so we kind of had to pull the whole wedding thing together on short notice— it’s kind of a long story, but I really, really need to get these flowers for Valentine’s Day.” Ian leaned in close over the counter, hoping he didn’t look too desperate. “It’s our first one together and it’s been a fucking shitty year and it would just— it would mean a lot.”

Ian finally exhaled, and hoped by some miracle that this cashier, or someone in the fucking universe, would take pity on him.

The cashier pulled his glasses down to the bridge of his nose, tapping away at the iPad on the counter before glancing up. “Hmm. I’m sorry honey, you’re fresh out of luck. Those lilies bloom in the summer mostly, and no one around here really has them. You could maybe check one of the little flower shops down the street, they do special orders and stuff this time of year—but I’ll be honest, I don’t know if you’re gonna get these flowers by tomorrow.”

Ian felt disappointment bubble up inside him. Of fucking course there were none of these obscure flowers in Chicago the day before Valentine’s Day— he’d had this grand idea of giving Mickey a perfect Valentine’s Day, of starting off on the right foot, and he still put this shit off until the last minute and couldn’t give Mickey what he deserved. Mickey would’ve never made this mistake.

Ian cleared his throat. “Shit. Well, uh, thanks anyways.”

He turned, heading for the door and getting ready to be assaulted by the bitter cold again. Okay, there were a couple flower marts down the street, he could try that— but he had a sinking feeling that the results would be the same, that he’d be left empty-handed tomorrow with nothing to give.

Okay. Focus. I’ve gotta plan a bunch of shit for Valentine’s Day by tomorrow.

What would Mickey do?

**

The flat drone of the dial tone made Mickey’s head buzz, the same dull vibration he’d heard dozens of times that week. Finally, he heard the click of someone answering.

“Hello, this is Sizzlers, how may I help you?”

“Hi, it’s, uh, it’s Mickey Milkovich. Again. I’m just checking in one more time to make sure we’re all good for tomorrow?”

There was a silence on the other end of the line, like the hostess was taking a moment to compose herself. “Yes, Mr. Milkovich. Since this is the… seventh time you’ve checked in in the past week, I believe, everything has definitely been arranged as you requested.”

Mickey cleared his throat. “Uh, good. Thanks. We’ll be there for our reservation at 8.”

He clicked his phone off and flung it down onto the bed. It had been nearly a week since he’d decided he was going to try to give Ian some kind of Valentine’s Day like the normal fucking couple Ian wanted to be, but he had to admit, this shit was hard work; he had to think of the perfect place he wanted them to go, had to call and make a reservation and arrange everything perfectly— and then there was the matter of deciding what to get Ian, because apparently married people also got each other fucking gifts on Valentine’s Day, which sounded like overkill to him. He’d been scrolling through Buzzfeed “Valentine’s Day Gift” lists for the better part of the afternoon, and even snuck some of Debbie’s chick magazines into the bathroom to sift through articles like “Ten Things to Get Your Man for Valentine’s Day” or “Best V-Day Gifts for Newlyweds.” Finally, after fucking days of plans stirring in the back of his mind, Mickey finally thought he had all of the pieces together; the reservation was made, the timing was set, and he’d even stopped by some fancy fucking chocolate shop on the other side of town on the way home from the Alibi earlier that afternoon.

Everything was planned—now there was just one thing left to do.

Mickey grabbed the crumpled piece of paper he’d set on the bedside table, the one he’d been staring at all week. Fuck it. He grabbed a discarded pen from the windowsill, from the collection of pencils that Ian kept next to his notebooks.

Mickey sighed as he put the pen to the paper. Now comes the hard part.

part 1 is here! and part 3 is here!

[bookofmirth]

everyones entitled to their opinion but the amount of people who have been saying how “confusing” az’s chapter is and how sjm’s a bad writer for writing it that way honestly annoys me? you said you felt vindication when you read it and tbh, same, it confirmed everything i thought since acowar and made perfect sense with what we know of az as a character - that he’s deeply traumatized and incapable of creating and maintaining healthy relationships (as of rn). but beyond that, i dont see how it was unclear in the terms of which ships will be endgame?? before that chapter i was still uncertain and thought it could go either way (tho i was leaning to elucien bc of the already existing bond), and now im pretty certain its not gonna be elr*el in the long term. idk, i just feel like a part of fandom has built their own vision of the characters and future events that isn’t supported by text and now that theyre disappointed it isnt canon, they blame sjm for it? i really dont think it was a confusing chapter at all, i thought her intentions were perfectly clear with the types of tropes she used, i dont think its fair to say it was badly written just bc it didnt support their fanon ideas that was built more on headcanons than actual textual evidence... idk if i sound mean lol but just my 2 cents, obviously it doesnt go for everyone i feel like a certain part of fandom has a certain version of characters in their heads that they consider as canon bc they want to see them that way, but they aren’t really the same as the actual characters we’re presented in their story

Anon, I am going CRAZY over here.

I’ve been trying to figure out why I take on some arguments and others I don’t, and it basically comes down to 1) what is supported in the text, 2) people’s very wild interpretations of the text, and 3) people confusing their interpretation, fanon, what have you, with canon. 

I actually make my students read this article before they respond to a text because it’s super important to understand what, exactly, they (and we) are responding to. It’s nothing to do with literary criticism, but it still has bearings here because people are taking lines of text and imposing these wildly different meanings that have zero support. Like I mentioned in this post, we cannot say why Elain’s face gets tight or she shrinks from Lucien. There is literally no evidence one way or another, so I could that she like....... has a bad problem with farting when he’s around and is embarrassed. And who’s to stop me????

And you’re right, the problem here is that they think they are responding to canon, when actually it’s this wild interpretation of canon that began before acowar even came out, for the sole purpose of furthering hate on Mor. It had nothing to do with actually, genuinely liking it. But it’s grown into this monstrosity we see today and yeah... people are literally making posts where their “evidence” is two people being a room together and noticing that fact = endgame super romantic ship.

And that’s totally different from actually acknowledging the bare minimum of evidence, and saying “fingers crossed I hope it happens because I love it!!” That would be fine. I literally do not care if people do that. I do care when they willfully misinterpret what’s on the page and try to act like 1) they have found facts, and 2) they pretend like that “fact” should have any bearing on what other people ship. 

So, re: Az. 

I literally made this argument four years ago lol and if you read it real quick you can see that that ship came about (in January 2017) not because of all this “evidence” people found in acowar, which didn’t exist yet for us, but before that for other fandom, fanon reasons. 

And since acowar came out, I’ve pretty much avoided talking about Az because I know that somehow, the fact that he’s dark and twisty is.... controversial??? Yeah, I compared him to Tamlin and I still hold to that (I saw a vagueblog about my idea and I still think that comparison is accurate, but anyway). But people just? Don’t want to hear anything like that about Az. Even though that’s literally what we are given.

There is nothing wrong with saying that he’s dark af. In fact, all of the evidence we have from the book is that he is not only dark, but that he is increasingly  losing control. There was the blowup in acowar, and the increased disrespect of Rhys (and Feyre) in acosf, refusal to take orders from someone he is supposedly so loyal to. Even back in acomaf there were multiple signs that Mor was concerned about bruising his ego (literally the first thing that Mor says about Az is that he would want to know something, I’m not going to look it up but the implication was that he would be upset if he didn’t know).

From acosf:

Az had a vicious competitive streak. It wasn’t boastful and arrogant, the way Cassian himself knew he himself was prone to be, or possessive and terrifying like Amren’s. No, it was quiet and cruel and utterly lethal. (pg. 254)

“He’d tortured it out of someone. Of many people.” (pg. 224)

“Some silent conversation passed between him and his mate, and Cassian knew Rhys was asking about the torture - apologizing for making Feyre witness even the ten minutes Azriel had worked. (pg. i lost my place idk)

“Opening movements in a symphony of pain that Azriel could conduct with brutal efficiency. (pg. 375)

So asdkhasldkjasda if only we could STOP saying that Az is actually a dark soft boi and just acknowledge that he’s fucked up and that him being with ANYONE at this point would potentially be harmful to that person, be it Elain or Gwyn or whoever? That chapter did NOTHING but continue a line of character development that had already been in place, and I get the need to romanticize dark boys, but idk, don’t pretend he’s something he’s not.

[dem-khuya]

maybe im making a big deal outta nothing. but i think im rly sensitive to the energy of the ppl i surround myself with even if its an online community. the writing community i was pretty active in was really rewarding to write with but on a conversational level i think i felt really unable to vibe with like anything happening in the discord server, and only after taking a break from the community did i realize i was always portraying a version of myself that was just... inherently false. just not me at all. maybe it didn’t feel terribly different at the moment but i think i was taking the extra mile to hide and show only certain aspects of my own life to create this image of myself that was simply inaccurate. you do this every day w strangers!! its normal! but i think i was doing this extensively so within this community and with this hobby that also asks me to be incredibly vulnerable. also while i was cool with the members of color there i was exhausted by being surrounded by a lot of white ppl. its just exhausting to talk to crackers lmao. and pulling away from that aspect of the community has done me so much more good too, and it shows me just how important it is for me to curate my space away from white ppl.

i feel a lot more light and unfettered now that im taking a break from the community. but i mean i use it as a means to write with my best friend whos also taking a break bc of health issues so not having that channel will make me sad. at the same time im making stories on my own and exploring my personal art more. and i think that has been so rewarding too esp since ive just spent the past few months doing collaborative writing. maybe its just tunnel vision but i think i like being able to return to my own stories and my own art, without the specific need to exchange ideas with people. like here is where my home is, the art and stories i make for myself. i think a mix of both working alone and working with others is healthy, maybe in my case i’d emphasize working mostly with myself at the end of the day the way i have been doing. but i feel like im veering very close to self-isolation again, which feels really nice but also comes with its own set of regrets too.

whenever i hint at or mention doing this stuff by myself though my friend is visibly hurt. so it feels a little taboo to say aloud that i need to keep a part of myself with ME, not available to be shared with anyone else. its the same as when i mention to my mother that i want to go to therapy. i know there’s a moment of her trying not to ask me “what do you want to say to a therapist that you can’t say to me?” bc we’re close. but she has her own secrets too. im not hurt when ppl draw a line in the sand in our relationships. boundaries are boundaries and i’ll respect them. but things are different with my friend. and i don’t really know how to approach this subject yet without it being hurtful to her.

i feel like this friendship has been so full of rocky points lately, more than it ever has, bc we’re both sensitive people and bc we’ve known each other for so long. i’ve been reading more articles about love and friendship and that line in the ask polly article that said something about how long time friends are like siblings bc we love each other while tolerating each other is hitting really hard. its like that other article, that famous one about the fear of being perceived, asks how often we love and are loved in spite of our flaws rather than because of them. it makes me think about my own flaws, of which there are many. my more ugly one, uglier than being short-tempered and hurtful in my anger, uglier than demanding that all of my efforts be repaid in some way (it reminds me of a line in qianqiu, in one of the later chapters when shen qiao says something like “it’s so rare to see that any effort we put into anything be repaid to us”), is my utter lack of faith. i don’t think i have faith in anyone, no matter who they are to me, and it’s an unfair and cruel thing to do to people who love you, even if they love you imperfectly. im so quick to accept my own disappointment and leave it where it is without putting in the effort to work with someone so that we can build a better path ahead of us. we! us! not just me and me alone. being hopeful and then being disappointed is terrible and i just have no endurance for it. so i think the answer to that is to see things differently maybe. not to settle, not to make further attempts to lower my expectations... just differently. just being more compassionate. i don’t know how or where to start but i mean a realization is still a realization right?

[guardianofjunmyeon]

Finding Atlantis (part 6)

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Action/Adventure, Enemies to Lovers, PirateAU

Description:   20 years ago the seas became angry. Unruly and unkind to any sailor,  to  any ship that dared venture too far out in her waters. Many a man  has  heard the tales of Atlantis, the lost city, the key the ocean. But  fewer  men know the tale of it’s missing child. The key to the ocean,  the key  to Atlantis but a lost little one. The power one would hold  should they  find this child would be nearly that of Poseidon himself.  Thus, the hunt  began.    

A/N: I meant to update last week but my VPN wasn’t working! I couldn’t access tumblr bc it’s blocked here in china but i finally got it fixed lol. This one is long! WARNING(s): Smut + Character Death (??)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18

After hours of discussion and blindly heading southeast, you all were finally able to somewhat crack the code of the rhyme and the map.

“Follow the sound of your soul, she’ll call out to you to bring you back to your shoal. That’s clearly about the Atlantis return song. It’s the most important part of all of this. If we don’t get a better handle of when it appears and when it doesn’t we won’t get through the rest of the trails.”

“Trials?”

“Yes, there are three different trials masked in the lyrics of the song. The way back isn’t easy. If you leave Atlantis, you have to prove that you truly want to return,” Yeri replies.

You squint at the map now covered in writing.

“She’ll fight you to prove that your heart is true, to crush you and build you back stronger in her darkest shade of blue,” Sehun reads. “It’s about a storm. A very big one by the sound of it.” He points to an area of the map with nothing but water. “You see this area? It’s known for its unruly currents and unnatural weather patterns. It ranges from snow to thunderstorms large enough to wipe out entire islands.”

Junmyeon grazes his fingers over the map, passing the spot Sehun mentioned and further southeast. “Beautiful songs will call out to confuse the path, to distract you, but remembering your heart will get you through…if we continue beyond the location of the storm we’ll be set to approach Isla de Sirena within a week.”

“Shit,” Baekhyun murmurs.

Yeri looks on in confusion. “Why shit?”

“Isla de Sirena is an island known for luring ships underwater. They crash ships among the rocks with song. They appear as the most beautiful creature that you can imagine; whatever you subconsciously find the most alluring. I don’t know how they do it. Different people can look at the same one and see different things; they trick you that way. Mermaids…sirens, whatever you want to call them. Freaky little bitches.”

“Baekhyun,” Junmyeon admonishes.

“What? They are!”

“So we’ve got to face…beautiful singing women? Oh no the horror,” you gasp jokingly.

Baekhyun pinches the bridge of his nose. “You are so horny, and so stupid all the fucking time.”

“You’re one to fucking talk-”

“Children!” Junmyeon scolds. “Can we please hold off on the flirting until this is over?”

“We aren’t flirting-”

“Anyway!” You and Baekhyun close your mouths in embarrassment. “We’ve gone near Isla de Sirena, once,” Sehun adds grimly, eyebrows pitching angrily. “If you’re able to ignore their voices then you can see them for they are. They’re the ugliest creatures I’ve ever seen in my life.” He shivers.

“So what’s the final trial?” Baekhyun asks, back to contributing to the conversation and not being a pain in your ass.

“She’ll finally take you in her arms again, cradled and safe where all life began…” Yeri reads. A sigh. “We aren’t completely sure. It’s something about a rebirth?”

You scratch your chin.

“Maybe it’s about being drowned.”

Everyone turns their eyes to you.

“What?” you ask; your wide eyes look back at everyone staring at you as if you said something crazy. You point to the map in the general area where you think you all may end up. “There’s no land anywhere near here, and the city is underwater. Born from water, taken away from water, and then reclaimed by the water. If you leave, you must be drowned and reborn into an Atlantian again right? Why else would you forget your memories and connection to the sea the longer you’re away?”

“You are reborn in the place where life began…” Baekhyun mumbles. “You might be right. The final trial is a drowning of some kind. There’s a reason only Atlantian’s are the only people who can reach the city.” Baekhyun smacks you on the shoulder. “You’re not completely useless!”

You frown and hold your shoulder.

Bastard.

~~~

Candles cover the deck of the ship as the sun sets on the horizon. You watch somberly as each member of your crew places an object that reminds them of Taemin, of Amber, of Kun, and of Jaehyun in each of the four caskets meant to sail them to the other side.

Their bodies are wrapped in cloth to save everyone the trauma of facing their decomposing faces. Flowers, candies, articles of clothes surround each body with the things that made them who they were in life.

And will hopefully comfort them in the land of death.

Your most artistically inclined deckhand, Ten, places a portrait of each of them in their respective boat. An image to match the body.

“Jaehyun was always smiling; he worked hard as a gunner. He’d hoped one day to be master gunner of the ship.” Mark stands over the casket. “He uh, he never said much but he had the most imaginative mind of any person I ever met,” he says with a sad smile. “When the cannon backfired and killed him, it was quick, so at least he didn’t suffer for long. Farewell friend. I’ll see you on the other side.”

Luna takes over where Mark left off, standing in front of Amber’s casket. “I’ve known Amber since we were kids. She was a strange one,” she laughs. “She was very head strong and opinionated even when she was wrong. We both knew that working in the artillery was going to be rough, that it would be dangerous, but I know that she loved this job more than anything. She had a family with us, and she died where she would have wanted, I think.” Tears fill her eyes as she sits back down in the circle of crewmen.

“Kun…was like an older brother to me. He would tell me that I was getting on his nerves, but he would always take care of me…uh…take care of all of us in the best way he could. Every meal he served, every wound he healed, was done with care. Unfortunately, sickness isn’t as kind. He tended to Taemin with his last breath, tried to heal with all he had until he had nothing else to give. I’m going to miss him and his cheesy magic tricks.” Ten takes in a deep breath to keep his voice from wavering. “I hope he’s taken care of with as much love as he gave us.”

You can hear people holding back their tears. Sniffles and soft sobs escaping into the air every few seconds.

This time you stand as the representative to send off Taemin. You avoid everyone’s eyes and focus your gaze on his wrapped body and the trinkets around him. “Taemin was one of my earliest crewmen. I may have owned the ship, but Taemin was the one who knew best how she moved. He piloted with a grace and confidence I have still yet to achieve. I don’t have a single doubt that he’ll be able to guide himself to the other side without issue. He had a natural skill for movement.” You focus on an object nestled snuggly at his side. “I just hope he doesn't lose any of the things we’re sending with him the way he always loses his money pouches.” You manage a smile.

A couple of people chuckle softly, sadly.

“As Captain of the Storm Chaser, I release the four of you from duty.” You raise your gun in the air. “I couldn’t have asked for braver, hardworking, and loyal men.” You fire a single shot into the air.

It rings through the night.

Everyone stands, begins to close the wooden coffins, and Junmyeon soaks them in gunpowder and oil.

You watch the coffins get lowered into the water one by one. As they begin to float away, you, Mark, Luna, and Ten line up along the edge of the ship.

“Ready,” you all cock your guns. “Aim.”

“Fire.”

The coffins alight with flames. Yixing lights a single firework and it shoots into the air and covers the sky in bright yellow sparks.

May these lights guide them on their future paths.

No one moves until the coffins are far out of sight, their flames no longer visible. Until nothing but darkness rests in the distance. With heavy eyes, and heavier hearts, you all pull away from the railing.

Those who were close to the ones sent away cry openly and you allow everyone the rest of the night to rest and mourn as they see fit. Crying, shaking, screaming.

People cope in different ways.

As everyone disperses below deck you see Yixing rubbing Jongin’s back as the two of them cry clinging tightly to the other.

You know that Yixing grew up with Taemin. Yixing had been the one to recommend him for the crew because of their shared history. Knowing now that Yixing knew Jongin at the same time, you realize that Jongin must have known Taemin closely as well.

Leaving them to console one another, you walk away.

The stories of their deaths, of their lives, makes your heart a bit less heavy. Knowing that they died doing what they wanted, and not because life was stolen from them in situations counter to their personality eases a bit of the pain.

Minutely.

It still hurts, but the anger is no longer there. Just sadness.

This is the life of pirates after all.

Junmyeon has hidden himself away somewhere on the ship, as he always does when he wants to cry without being found, so you make your way towards the food storage for a drink. You need it after today.

People cope in different ways.

The stairs creak as you descend. One of the lanterns is already on, bright near the liquor storage. It shouldn’t surprise you. You wouldn’t be the only person who wants to drink to numb a bit of the pain.

What does surprise you is who you find hunched over with his face in his hands.

“Baekhyun?”

His head lifts and you immediately take notice of the red in his visible eye and face in the dim lighting. He seems alarmed to have been caught. He looks away in shame.

You sit down in front of him.

The bottle of whiskey at his side is half empty; you reach for it and take a sip.

For your men.

Silence shrouds you both.

You feel the need to speak. To clear the air. Whether you are doing it for him or for yourself you aren’t sure. “No one blames you, you know,” you say so softly that it almost blends into the silence. You hope he doesn’t hear.

But of course he does.

He looks over with anger. “I never said it was my fault.”

“You didn’t have to. You’re down here drinking alone after a funeral. This screams ‘this is all my fault’ you emo fucker.”

He snatches the bottle from your hands.

“Look, okay. No one thinks it’s your fault. You heard the stories. Yeah, you guys shot my ship, but their deaths weren’t directly a result of that. Things went wrong; I will accept that it was just a shot to immobilize us. If any of us thought you a murderer, in this case, we would have hung you by your neck long ago.” You forcefully grab the bottle back with a frown. “There’s plenty of other shit for you to feel guilty over. Like the time you shot me…or stabbed me…or left me on that island for dead.”

“I swear to the Gods-”

“The point is…this one isn’t on you. You don’t need to carry this guilt. Not this time.” You take a quick drink. “If however,” you point your finger at him menacingly, “this was on purpose, then I take all that back and I will kill you right fucking here I swear to the Gods.”

The bottle is taken back. “It wasn’t,” he admits, softly, angry. A swig. “It wasn’t on purpose,” he says again tiredly.

His honesty takes you by surprise. Baekhyun has killed just as many people as you have in your life. If he had tried to kill them, well that would be expected. But for him to be this affected by the accidental deaths? That’s surprising.

“What are you doing down here anyway?” he asks.

“Do you really think you’re the only person on this ship who hides down here drinking? You’re talking to the master!” you boast. “And it’s my ship you ungrateful wrench.” You finish off what’s left of the whiskey and reach for a bottle of golden rum tucked securely on a shelf. Uncorking it with your teeth, you hold it in the air between you. “To Taemin, Kun, Amber, and Jaehyun!”

It burns like hell itself going down.

You hold it out for Baekhyun with an expectant eyebrow raise. You wait.

He grabs it gently. “To Taemin, Kun, Amber, and Jaehyun,” he repeats in a murmur. He makes a noise of pain as the alcohol burns its way down his throat. “What the fuck is this?”

You shiver as the alcohol settles uncomfortably in your stomach. “It's the bad rum I think.” You cough violently. “Oh fuck I think I’m going to die,” you say clutching your stomach.

His wild laugh echoes in the dark space. A bit of the gloom lifts.

You let your hands fall from your stomach while you take in the relaxed happiness on his candlelit face. His eye crinkled in a crescent, shining with mirth. You don’t think you’ve seen him laugh like that since the first time you met him.

He’s pretty. You’d have to be stupid not to admit it. From his soft and shiny hair, to his cheeks that bunch up when he smiles. From his big dumb ears to all of the little moles that dot his body.

The bottle goes back up to his ridiculously pink lips and he laughs as it hurts his throat just as bad as the first sip.

All it takes is a second of thoughtless, drunken courage for you to lean forward and quickly press your lips against his, cutting off his giggles.

When you pull pack, the happiness on his face has made way for shock and then once more to nothing.

“Don’t kiss me,” he says tonelessly. His voice is serious, but you see the spark of challenge in his eye.

Ignoring the part of you that always tells you that jumping headfirst into him is a bad idea, you lean in again, slower. You brace your hands on his thighs and feel them tense beneath your palms. He stares at your lips and you watch enrapt as his tongue pokes out to wet his bottom lip.

You can feel your skin vibrating from the proximity to him, and you freeze; a breath away from meeting skin with skin. Your eyes glance up to meet his and you can see the want, the restlessness, and something else you can’t quite place in the dark.

As if waiting any longer would be torturous, he leans forward impatiently to press his lips against yours. The bottle of rum falls to the ground and spills onto the floorboards of the storage room.

You don’t care.

You push harder; open your mouth to let his tongue slide against yours in a way that sends tingles through every nerve in your body. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the touch of sadness, but something feels different about this time.

You crawl onto his lap, driven purely by instinct and press every inch of your body against his. Heat seeps through your clothes and you pant longingly as he pulls you closer by your neck, his other hand grabbing you roughly by your ass. A wanton moan escapes your mouth and he pulls you closer, rougher. Breaths puff into each other’s mouths as you messily connect your lips over and over again. It’s uncoordinated. It’s wet. It’s exactly what you need.

You thread your fingers in his hair and yank his head back; diving to lick and suck along the column of his neck, to the sensitive spot behind his ear that you know drives him crazy. His grip on your body tightens as he releases a shaky groan and rolls his hips up against yours. Anticipation thrums through your body. To every noise, to every touch your body responds in earnest.

This is nothing but a distraction. For you. For the both of you, you don’t care. Neither of you have to think as clothes are removed. The sadness can be ignored as you claw against his skin and coax his tongue into your mouth. It’s all movement. All feeling. All lust.

People cope in different ways.

It always happens like this. You argue. You fight. You threaten each other. You fuck until you’re both exhausted and too tired to care about the years of hatred between you. For these few moments all you are, are bodies. Bodies moving in tandem, kissing the right places, touching the right spots, connecting at the right angle. Like this things are easy, wordless.

You each just understand how the other works.

Every movement is matched in urgency, in desperation. Touch for touch. Kiss for kiss. Sound for sound. Push for pull. Gasps, moans, whimpers are muted as best you can in the quiet of the storage. You don’t realize that you’re subconsciously avoiding aggravating the stitches that lie there, still fresh, in his side as your hands leave burning paths along his skin.

Just for now, you can allow yourselves to feel that maybe you don’t hate each other as much as you let on.

~~~

“Get your own fucking telescope!”

“Where am I going to get one? We’re in the middle of the god forsaken ocean; do you expect me to pull it out of my ass?”

“You should have brought yours with you if you wanted to use one so bad! That doesn’t give you permission to just take my shit whenever you feel like it. You aren’t Captain here.”

“Oh, bite me.”

“I’ll do worse than that. Seulgi, get me my pistol.”

“Captain I don’t think-”

“You think you’re going to shoot me? Chanyeol where’s my gun?!”

“I’m gonna shoot you right in your last fucking working eye you dirty fucking son of a-”

A hand covers your mouth before you can finish your curse. “Baekhyun, you’re needed in the kitchen. Kyungsoo is asking for you.” You and Baekhyun share one last deadly glare before he stalks off and you’re released.

“What the hell Minseok?” You turn on your gunner, anger from your argument with Baekhyun being projected instead onto him. It has to go somewhere.

He crosses his arms over his chest, unbothered.

“So you’re in love with him right? That's why you’re acting like this?”

Your eyes bulge out of your skull. “I’m sorry, what did you just ask me?”

He sighs, grabs you by your arm and drags you all the way to the infirmary. You’re forced to sit down stupefied as Minseok stares at you expectantly. “The two of you are exhausting to watch. If you weren’t two of our most capable men we would have tied you both up and put you in the brig until we found Atlantis days ago,” he says evenly.

You scoff, mouth agape.

“I would tell you to fuck and move on, but seeing as that seems to be what triggers a fresh round of arguments, I’m going to ask that you two refrain from ever having sex on the ship again in the future.”

You splutter embarrassed. Your skin heats at having been called out so boldly. “W-what?! How- Wh- How’d you find out?”

“Any time the two of you have sex, you spend the next month or so telling all of us how much you hate him, how you’re going to kill him, blah blah blah. After a while you stop being as vocal about it, but then we make port, usually at Arae, and he happens to be there, then BAM we're back where we started. You’re obsessed with each other.”

You flush. “We are not,” you try to deny. His face is unimpressed. “I don't know where you got the idea that either of us feel anything but pure hatred for the other. Okay yeah, we’ve had sex a couple of times. So what? It doesn’t mean anything. I’ve had sex with half of Arae.” You cross your arms defiantly.

“As soon as this is all over, we’ll part ways...in 6 months we’ll go to Arae for a bit, as we always do, you’ll have ‘angry hate sex’ yet again and then spend the next month being pissy over his existence. No one who genuinely hates someone spends so much time a) around them willingly and b) obsessing over them when they aren’t around,” Minseok says matter-of-factly. “I think you should both admit you’re in love with each other so we can all move on.”

“Minseok!”

“I agree,” Jongin’s head pops up from behind the singular bed in the room.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, heat again filling your cheeks at the extra witness to this interrogation.

“I work here?”

“I mean hiding behind the bed!”

“Oh…I uh tripped and then the door opened and you guys started talking and I was too afraid to get up and interrupt,” he says quickly.

You squint in judgment.

“This whole…” Minseok waves his hand around as he searches for the word, “…archenemies thing is getting old, Captain. If you really wanted to kill him, you would have done it already. And I’m sure the same goes for Byun. Right Jongin?” he turns to face the younger.

“Yeah,” Jongin agrees with a shrug.

You can’t believe your ears. “He just…hasn’t done anything worth actually killing him over yet. He’s useful sometimes…for information…” you murmur lamely. The excuse is weak even to you.

“You are both dumb and annoying…and also super transparent. Whenever you injure the other, it’s always in a place that won’t kill or do permanent damage. Don’t act like it’s just been luck that you’ve both managed to miss any kind of serious blow from the other. You’re both deadly fighters, you know how to kill someone if you want them dead.”

“He ditched me in cuffs on that island-”

“You had the key to the cuffs,” Jongin chimes in unhelpfully.

Minseok rolls his eyes at your words. “Yes, and again, in a survivable situation. Was there not food and shit on that island?”

You open and close your mouth pathetically.

“Exactly. It’s not like you’re an incompetent dumbass. You would be able to find your way off even if you hadn’t been found. He didn’t blow the ship to bits like he could have a month ago, you haven’t slit his throat like you could have many months ago. You both dance around injuring each other, making the other’s life difficult, and fucking. You’re in love, please just accept it. I don’t care if you’re into BDSM and blood play or whatever freaky shit gets you guys off, but I would at least appreciate it if you kept it in your bedroom.”

Jongin nods from the back. “I just think it’s obvious,” he adds simply.

“Pff…Psh…Tch…I’m-I am appalled that you would talk to your Captain like this.”

“I know, I know. You could have us hanged, shot, thrown in the ocean, whatever…but the fact of the matter is that you aren’t going to do any of that, and you know that we’re right. Now, I’m going to go make sure Chanyeol hasn’t shot any of my men with any of my valuable pistols, and I’ll leave you to your duties, Captain.” Minseok nods his head with finality and exits the room.

Mutineer…

You glare at Jongin for ganging up on you. He flushes timidly. “I’m uh…gonna go see if Kyungsoo needs any help…Captain.” With a nervous smile he dashes from the room.

This is mutiny…

~~~

The ship sails southeast for days before anything alerts you all of the impeding first trial. The weather is normal, the water is normal, and then all of a sudden, the winds become violent.

“Captain, I think we’re getting close to whatever the first test is…” Yixing says tremulously.

The wind whips around you and the sails of the ship flap violently. There’s no way to tell which way the wind is blowing from as it whips from what feels like every side simultaneously. The ship tilts dangerously to one side.

“Junmyeon…that song telling you anything right about now?” You ask anxiously.

Your first mate looks out on the horizon with worried eyes. “We’re going the right way…” is all he says.

“Helpful,” Yixing murmurs sarcastically.

There is no visible sign of a storm; nothing seems out of the ordinary outside of the unnatural winds. The crew is already reefing your regular sails and raising the storm jib and trysail. If the winds get any stronger, which they will, they’ll catch your regular sails and capsize your ship before the waves even begin to hit.

“Who can man the helm? Who’s the best pilot on board right now?” you ask Yixing.

Yixing looks around a bit panicked. “I don’t know… I don’t know Captain.” The ship lurches to the side.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” you scan the ship. Most of the men are working on preparing the proper sails, securing any moving parts, and making sure the wind alone won’t turn the ship on her side. You see Baekhyun working with Wendy on securing lose lines. You haven’t talked to him since your lecture from Minseok all those days ago. “Junmyeon, go check to make sure we have enough ballast in the hold. We’re going to be rocking and we need to pray that we have enough weight to keep us as stable as possible.”

He rushes away; you try to think of what else you can do to prepare. There’s no way to tell how long this storm is going to last, how bad it’s going to be, and you would rather prepare for the worst.

A sea anchor.

“Johnny!” The boatswain is immediately at your side. “Take whoever you need and deploy the sea anchor. We should have one somewhere in the hold. I need you to work fast, but be thorough.”

The ship is going to have to sail against the wind and against the waves. The wind will push the ship off course, but to survive a storm like this the ship needs to keep its bow to the waves. If a wave catches the ship on her side or back, there’s no chance for survival. You’ll have to use your sea anchor and just pray that the Gods are feeling merciful.

“Baekhyun!” you shout. He turns immediately at the sound of your voice. “How good are you at the wheel?”

“I’m decent.”

“How’s your tracking? Your jibbing? Can you keep the ship from capsizing in this storm?”

He looks up in the sky when the sound of thunder shakes the floorboards. “My jibbing isn't the best, but I think I can keep her afloat,” he promises.

The feeling of static fills the air. The hair on your body rises to attention. Another rumble of thunder rolls across the ocean, louder than before. The sky is darker than it was 5 minutes ago.

There isn’t much longer until the storm hits.

“I need you at the wheel. I’m trusting my ship to you. Don’t let me down.” With a determined nod, Baekhyun is off. You see your first strike of lighting. Bright blue and not far off.

Chanyeol runs up to you to assure you that all of the cannons, ammunition, and artillery are properly secured. “Tell Minseok to get all his men below deck in the storm rooms. Secure any hatch and pray to the Gods that we make it through this,” you instruct. He nods and runs off.

When a storm hits, it hurts more than it helps to have people above deck. Three people would do the job just as well as all 20. Half of weathering a storm is the training and skill of the crew; and the other half is just pure luck.

The beginning patters of rain begin to pelt the ship. You run back up to the helm where Baekhyun has stationed himself.

The ocean gets choppy, picks up ferocity. The ship leans starboard. Baekhyun has never steered your ship, and truthfully, you have no idea whether or not he can actually steer through a storm. You’ve never seen him at the wheel of any ship in all the years you’ve known him.

“Do you think we’ll make it through this?” you ask.

“Honestly…I don’t know,” he admits. “We have enough sea room; we won’t crash into anything this far out. I just hope we can pick up enough speed before the waves start to grow.”

Junmyeon reappears, with Kyungsoo at his side, both out of breath. “We’ve prepared all that we can. The sea anchor is deployed, we’ve got a decent amount of ballast, the jib is ready to be backwinded, and the crew is all prepared for the rocking. What’s the plan?”

“Heaving to,” Baekhyun says simply. He swipes at his bangs, heavy with water and clinging to this forehead. “We keep the bow to the waves, keep close to the wind, and then lock the helm in place.”

“Won’t we broadside?!”

“No, if we were to lie ahull, we would broadside,” Kyungsoo supplies, blocking his eyes from the rain picking up in ferocity. “By heaving to, we can keep the ship from going parallel to the waves and capsizing. We’ll have to stay above deck to correct it if the wind or waves suddenly change. Since you’ve got a sea anchor we’ve got more chance of keeping the ship sailing straight into the waves rather than along them.”

“If heaving to doesn’t work, we try to run off downwind. As the wind increases we’ll have to slow down the ship as much as we can so that we don’t dive straight into the wave in front of us.” A bolt of lightning hits the waves. The rain gets harder.

“We would die…” You say unhelpfully. Lighting blasts in front of you and the waves crash angrily against the ship’s sides.

“Exactly. So if we run off, we’re going to need more than the four of us to throw whatever heavy lines you have off the stern,” Baekhyun’s voice rises to be heard over the increasingly loud winds and waves.

“As a last result, we’ll lie ahull and just fucking pray that when we capsize the ship holds for long enough to keep all of us alive,” Kyungsoo shouts.

You exhale shakily as another three bolts of lightning flash across the sky.

Poseidon be kind to us all.

You leave Baekhyun with the job of steering the ship against the waves that grow in size and power by the second.

At Kyungsoo’s instruction, Junmyeon is in charge of keeping the jib backwinded, and you reef the trysail as soon as it becomes clear that it’s going to be a hindrance in the grand scheme of things. Kyungsoo stands at Baekhyun’s side correcting course when he gets thrown off balance. Baekhyun does the same as Kyungsoo is knocked to the side in turn.

The waves become brutal, rocking the ship so hard that it’s nearly impossible to keep on your feet for more than 10 seconds at a time.

The wind finally sets in a single direction, fiercer than anything you’ve faced, and the general direction of the waves becomes apparent. The ship rocks violently from side to side and then immediately forward and back. You’re thrown into the foremast by the unexpected direction change with enough force to knock the wind out of your body. You gasp in pain. You get up on wobbling legs and try to breathe even as the water falls so fast and heavy around you that it feels equivalent to drowning.

You can’t see more than two feet ahead of yourself.

Think. Think.

There is rope at your feet, secured to the mainmast of the ship. You untie it with cold, wet fingers and hold it tight as you walk to the helm. The ship crashes into another large wave and you fall to your knees as water washes over the bow of the hull, covers the deck in freezing water and pitches the ship forwards. You stand up, shivering but determined. You tie the rope around your own waist to help you keep note of where you’ve come from.

Getting to the helm is a challenge, but you make it. Junmyeon is helping Baekhyun and Kyungsoo lock it in place.

“We should head below deck!” You shout as loud as you can. Thunder and lightning work in tandem to drown out your voice. To remind you of who is louder. Who has more power. You’re soaked to the bone.

Each man above deck is in a similar state. “We’re going below deck!” Junmyeon shouts. “We think heaving to may work.” The ship lurches dangerously to the right.

“Quick! Let’s go,” Kyungsoo screams, hair clinging to his forehead in inky black tendrils.

You use the rope to guide you. It feels as though you’re swimming through the air with the amount of resistance the winds and rain are putting up. Kyungsoo makes it to the hatch that leads below first. You follow behind, climbing down the ladder with shaking limbs. Water leaks through the boards, but it’s a welcome change from the brutality of facing Mother Nature directly.

You gasp for breath, finally able to breathe without also inhaling water, and look around the space for the ship’s emergency supplies. The ship dips, your stomach lurches.

Freezing water streams into the room from the open hatch above. You realize belatedly that there are only two of you in the compartment. Baekhyun and Junmyeon haven’t made it down.

You’re thrown to the ground when the ship dips without warning.

Clattering catches your attention as Junmyeon is swept into the room with a fresh rush of water. “Baekhyun fell overboard!” Junmyeon screams. He crashes against the ground. The sky screams.

What?

Kyungsoo turns away from opening the hatch down to a lower level of the ship to gape at Junmyeon’s words in horror.

Gasping, soaked, Junmyeon looks around the compartment frantically.

You’re moving before you have a chance to think.

You vaguely hear your name being called out from behind, but you don’t turn around. Rope still secured around your waist, you run, slip, stumble, over to the closest life boat. As fast as your shaking hands can work, you cut yourself free of the mainmast and tie the end of the rope not tied to your body to the dinghy.

You slice through the thick ropes holding the dinghy to the side of the ship with an urgency you’ve never felt. Water hits you head on, chilling you to the bone.

The final rope snaps and you and the dighy fall into the water with the force of landing on cement. Something is broken, but your adrenaline is pumping so violently that you can’t feel the pain. It doesn’t register.

Doesn’t matter.

You look around frenzied. The water is pitch black and moving too fast. The rain pelts your skin. It stings, burns, blurs your vision.

The waves are too big for him to survive out here on his own.

They’re too big for you to survive in your search for him.

The sky roars.

The waves crash, flip your boat once, twice.

You settle upright for the second time when, by the grace of the Gods, you see his white shirt illuminated against the dark water by a strike of lightning. You row frantically as a wave begins to swell. You nearly scream in relief when you reach him, but the sound dies as your heart sinks.

He’s not moving.

And he’s face down.

With all the energy you can muster, you pull him into your little boat. You take a few seconds you catch your breath, then you realize the height at which the wave has lifted you. It begins to cascade down; instinctively, you wrap your arms around Baekhyun’s unmoving form and brace yourself for the crash.

It’s dizzying.

It hurts.

It’s terrifying.

You hold your breath, close your eyes, hold onto the man in your arms with all you have, and wait for the water to stop jostling you around so violently. The water seems to calm slightly, so you open your eyes.

The water is dark, and then bright. Black, and then illuminated by lighting.

Your chest tightens as your need for oxygen reaches desperation. You maneuver yourself beneath the water enough to hold Baekhyun with one arm and swim to the top with the other.

You break the surface and gasp for air desperately.

You pull your rope and the boat appears at your side, thankfully upright. You lift Baekhyun aboard first, and then with heavy limbs, you topple on top of him. You don’t give yourself a chance to catch your breath before you’re leaning over him checking for signs of life.

You lower your ear to his chest. You can’t tell if he’s breathing. If his heart is beating.

“Come on Byun. Don’t die on me like this,” you beg. You repeatedly push against his chest, the way you were taught to restart a heart. After a few beats you press your ear to his chest again to listen for a change.

Nothing.

“Fuck. Come on…come on,” you pant.

You pinch his nose and lean down to cover his mouth with yours, filling his lungs with the air that he’s unable to take in on his own. His chest rises each time you exhale into his mouth. You go back to pumping your locked hands against his chest. A wave knocks you on your side. The boat stays upright.

You exhale into his mouth again, once, twice. You beg the rain to let up. You beg the waves to grow smaller.

You beg his heart to start beating.

He jerks and water spurts from his mouth. Relief hits you so hard that all the energy left in your body is expelled and you sag forward and land directly onto his chest.

You can finally hear the dull thumping of his heart. You can feel the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

At last, you can take a second to just breathe.

The small boat continues to jerk around, but it’s clear that the worst of the storm has passed. The waves now are shallow and choppy. The rain has lessened to nothing but a drizzle. The thunder rumbles farther and farther in the distance.

And Baekhyun’s heartbeat gets stronger.

You close your eyes, and let exhaustion overcome you, lulled into sleep by the beat of his heart and the rocking of the boat.

[softspiderling]

put in love and don’t give up | t.h.

Summary: honestly, you never pegged Tom for the kind of guy that ghosts people, but here you are. Ghosted.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Song I listened to while writing: Harder by Jax Jones feat. Bebe Rexha

Author’s Note: it’s been a hot minute since I last posted a fic and bc @afangirlwashere made me feel bad for not posting shit, I’m back on my update schedule for now. This is somewhat based on a dream I’ve had about tom I hope you enjoy it!!

Warnings: angst, I guess? Also cursing probably

Word Count: 2,4k

gif is not mine!

It’s not like Tom owes you anything.

You went out for a couple of dates and apparently it just wasn’t working out for him. Even though you had thought that the dates were pretty great; you’re interested in the same things, your goals in life are similar and you’re just- on the same wavelength. Or that’s what you had thought.

YOU: Trying to take care of the mess that is my flat but instead I’m on my couch procrastinating by watching a bunch of YouTube videos.

YOU: Someone should take away my phone.

The timestamp on the text tells you that it’s been a whole two weeks since he read it. At first you thought he was busy and he’d text you back when he got the time, but you never received any reply. You had thought about double texting him, maybe he hadn’t replied because the text you had sent didn’t involve a question that’d get him to reply, but if Tom had wanted to keep texting you, he would have found an answer that kept the conversation right? So you fought the urge to send another text, but that didn’t stop you from staring at the texts every now and then when you had the time.

You even tried calling him, but that was just as fruitless; for a minute, you were worried that something had happened to him, but later that day Tom had posted a story from him and Sam at a pub. So he was fine, it’s just you that seemed to have been the problem.

But that’s fine.

You can handle rejection, that’s something you had to get used to when it came to dating in your twenties, but you never would have pegged Tom as a person who would ghost someone instead of just outright telling you that he doesn’t like you as much as you like him. But you really thought he did, with the way he was smiling at you and the interest he had showed in your degree.

It sounds cheesy but you thought he was different. Even though his job kind of scared you off at first, you couldn’t help yourself but fall for the sweet and down to earth guy he still managed to be despite his fame.

With a sigh, you exit out of the text chain and pull up your grocery list, eyes scanning the items in your cart. You’re only missing the milk and butter.

Pushing the cart towards the dairy section, you slide your phone back into the pocket of your jacket and keep your eyes open for your brand of milk, when raucous laughter pulls your attention to the corner where the dairy section meets the frozen section.

Curiously you lean over to find the source of the noise, only to see two familiar looking boys.

Harry, one of Tom’s younger brothers and Tuwaine, one of his best friends joking around next to their carts. You had gotten to know them when Tom invited you out for drinks with them. Another reason that confused you as to why he would introduce you to his brothers and friends if he wasn’t that into you.

“Hey guys,” you greet them, lifting your hand to wave at them awkwardly. Harry’s head perks up when he hears your voice and he smiles goofily at you, while Tuwaine returns the wave as they take a few steps towards you, their sides constantly colliding as if they are unable to walk straight.  

“Hey Y/N,” Harry says, stuffing his hands into his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heel of his feet. “Doing the weekly shopping?”

You nod and gesture towards your cart and its content. “Yeah, uh, just the basic stuff,” you said, narrowing your eyes when you glance into their carts.

“And you’re shopping for a party…?”

“What?” Tuwaine furrows his brows and turns back to look into his cart before turning back to you with a grin.

“No, it’s our basic stuff.”

“Christ,” you wince. “I really hope you’re going to the dentist regularly. I am pretty sure this amount of popsicles isn’t healthy.”

The boys shrug with laughter. “How have you been?” Harry wants to know and you give him a gentle smile.

“Fine. University’s keeping me busy. How are you guys?” you ask, hesitating. “How’s Tom?”

Tuwaine clears his throat awkwardly and Harry jabs his friend in the ribs with a glare. Your cheeks color; their awkwardness and embarrassment confirmed your fear.

So Tom is really ghosting you.

“We’re good. And Tom- he’s busy, working all the time, you know how he is,” Harry says, stumbling over his words.

“Do I though?”

The gentleness in your voice catch the boys off guard and Tuwaine rubs the back of his neck, pressing his lips together in a thin line.

Wow, what on earth moved you to even approach them? This is probably the most awkward situation you’ve ever put yourself into.

“Tom’s being an idiot,” he finally offers. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You grimace, appreciating his words but it still stings. But doesn’t rejection always sting? But that’s the thing, isn’t it? Tom didn’t even give you the courtesy of a rejection he just straight up started ignoring you.

Waving it off, you smile crookedly at him.

“It’s fine. He’s fine.”

You gesticulate wildly with your hands, to show them how fine it is. Judging by their expressions, it certainly doesn’t seem to convince them. Stilling your hands, you exhale softly.

“I’m not mad or anything,” you then sigh, defeated. “I’m just a little bit disappointed. But I’ll get over it, you guys don’t need to worry about it or anything.”

You thrum your palms against the handle of the cart, smacking your lips together. “Well, this has been enough awkwardness for today. Uhm, I’ll see you guys around?”

Leaving the question hanging in the air, you shoot them a tentative smile; their chorused “Bye Y/N!”s make you sigh. As you turn around the corner, you hear them squabbling and you strain your ears to find out, what it is about.

“Congrats Tuwaine, this was probably the most uncomfortable situation I’ve ever had.”

“What are you looking at me for? It’s not my fault! If it’s anyone’s, it’s Tom’s!”

There’s a pause and you can hear someone sigh.

Then:

“I know it is. He’s just scared, you know how important his privacy is to him. Maybe Harrison can talk to him when he gets back. But I get it though, he’s-“

You almost bump your cart into an old lady, too busy trying to eavesdrop their conversation.

“Young lady!” The lady sends you a menacing glare and you apologize half-heartedly, too distracted by what you’ve just heard.

What was Harry talking about? What did he mean when he said that Tom was scared? You’re confused, you thought you had a clear picture of why he had stopped texting you. Lost in thoughts, you make your way to the check out, and put your groceries on the counter to get rung up.

By the time you get home you still haven’t figured out what it was that Tom is scared of and you almost break your brain trying to think of a logical explanation.

As you’re lying in bed that night, you come to the conclusion that you might never find out what Harry was talking about and see no point in obsessing over something that you are unable to change, so you push the matter in the far back of your mind, hoping that you would soon forget about it. But that is easier said than done, right?

Over the weekend you try your hardest to forget about the encounter with Harry and Tuwaine, stopping your brain from trying to find a solution to Tom’s problem you know nothing about and it’s harder than you thought it would be.

Even your readings for your business class seem to be offering basically no distraction whatsoever, which is why you find yourself at a small café down the street Sunday afternoon. With the sunlight filtering through the window, throwing the busy café in a shade of warm orange, you sit by the window with your text marker, scanning your assigned readings and occasionally marking a passage or two.

“I’m sorry, Miss?”

You look up from your text, your vision a little blurry before finally recognizing the barista standing in front of you with a sheepish smile.

“We’re closing in five minutes,” she tells you and your eyes widen as you take in your surroundings. You’ve been so engrossed in the article you’ve been reading, you hadn’t realized how late it has gotten: the lights have long been turned on in the café and you’ve noticed that all the chairs and tables have been cleared except of the one you’re currently occupying.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” you apologize and scramble your documents together, stuffing them in your bag.

“It’s no problem, really,” the barista gives you a warm smile. “Have a nice evening.”

You shoulder your bag and send her a small wave as you headed through the door.

“Thanks! You too!”

The darkness from outside catches you by surprise and you pull your cardigan tighter around your chest, starting your walk back home. Hearing your stomach grumble, you’re reminded of the lack of food your day has brought and while you turn the corner to your flat, you try to come up with a quick meal with the ingredients you know you have at home.

Rummaging in your bag for your keys as you get closer to your building door, you finally manage to grasp the small fluffy key chain from the depth of your bag and lift your head. That’s when you see Tom sitting on the steps that lead up to the door.

You still and he jumps up, dusting off his pants. He looks tired, the denim jacket was slung tightly around his torso and you’re pressing your lips together before slowly taking a few steps towards him.

“Hey,” you greet him wearily. “What are you doing here?”

Tom rubs the back of his neck. “Hi Y/N. I, uh-“ he gestures towards the steps he’s just been sitting on. “I’ve been waiting for you uh, here. Been here for a while actually. “

“Oh. Why didn’t you call?”

He ducks his hand and his hands disappear into the pockets of his denim jacket. “Wasn’t sure if you’d pick up.”

You look at him with an unreadable expression and the keys dangle from your hand as you unlock the door, keeping it open with the heel of your shoe.

“Do you want to come in?” you ask, and he nods before following you inside and to your flat. He’s uncharacteristically quiet as you close your door behind you and take off your shoes, before moving to your couch, immediately taking refuge under your fluffy blanket.

Tom on the other hand looks like he’s out of place as he stands in the middle of the room, his eyes darting around.

The tension between you two is palpable and even though you know it’s his turn to speak, you’re aware that he’s fighting to bring his thoughts into words.

“You know you didn’t have to come all this way to do this, right?” you finally say, clasping your hands together.

“To do what?”

“I got the hints, Tom and I also rant into Harry and Tuwaine the other day. You’re here to let me down easy,” you say, pulling your knees close to your torso and he gapes at you, slowly moving to sit on the couch, though the distance between you is still there.

“What? No! That’s not why I’m here, why-“ He breaks off, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “What did they tell you?”

You shrug. “That I didn’t do anything wrong and that you’re an idiot?”

“Well, I am an idiot,” Tom admits. “But not for the reason you think, I promise Y/N.”

“So you’re not here to break things off with me?”

He shakes his head and carefully reaches out to touch your hand which is resting on top of your knee. Your pinkie twitches and you eye his fingers inching slowly towards yours, but you don’t move your hand away. Tom takes your hand in his and looks at, his brows furrowed.

“I’m sorry I ignored you,” he says quietly. “It just… It’s so hard dating someone when you work in the movie industry. The media has no respect for your privacy and I really didn’t want to put you in harm’s way, especially with all the people who are weirdly insisting on me and Z being a couple-.”  

You didn’t realize that he felt this way. Even though you knew that he was struggling with all the attention, you thought he could handle it well, but apparently he’s an even better actor than you thought he was.

“I was so conflicted. I like you so much and I thought if I’d push you away, you’d move on. But when Harry told me how lovely you were being, still asking how I was doing even though I was being a jerk to you I realized how childish I was being. That I needed to be honest with you and let you decide for yourself if I am worth it or not.”

Tom chews on his lower lip as his voice quiets down and you squeeze his hand, giving him a soft smile.

“You’re right. You should have been honest with me,” you say. “Even though I am just a basic civilian-“

He snorts out a laugh and you grin at him.

“I can imagine how hard it can be in your line of work. But Tom, I’ve already been thinking of this since our first date. It’s not like I’m going completely blind into this. And you’re worth it, okay? Even if you’re an asshole who ignored me for two weeks.”

He ducks his head sheepishly and you shake your head fondly, moving your legs so he can come closer before he leans in to give you a quick kiss. You barely have the time to react and your cheeks redden, before the two of you lean in for another kiss.

Pulling away, Tom lets out a soft sigh and leans his forehead against yours.

“Thanks for giving me a second chance, Y/N. My brothers would have kicked my butt for losing someone as great as you.”

You shrug with your shoulders, a pleased smile on your face. So you did leave a good impression on Harry, despite your initial awkwardness.

“And you would have deserved it,” you point out and he grins, looping his arms around your waist.

“Trust me, I know.”

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[leguin]

why you don't consider tgf to be "good"? I'm not asking to argue w you, but bc hardly anyone criticizes the book on here, so it's quite refreshing

oh boy. this feels like a bit of a ‘bat swinging towards a hornets nest’ question, but let’s do it.

first, i should preface this by saying i thought the movie (which is in fact a pile of matches masquerading as a film) was far worse than the book. it contained every issue the book had while losing a lot of the good stuff. also, i enjoyed the book! and i think a lot of the critical responses about it being a sign of the infantilization of literature are largely nonsense. but do i think it was good? not particularly.

there are some issues that are relatively minor in the grand scheme of things (e.g. donna tartt desperately needs an editor with a spine - the book should’ve been either significantly shorter or about 50 pages longer).

there are some more significant issues, among them like…women in the book. just as a whole to be fair, i’ve read books that were far, far worse about women and honestly, unfortunately, i am willing to put up with donna tartt’s particular brand of discomfort with women. i am also willing to put up with donna tartt’s classism, which is part of the donna tartt brand even more than the misogyny (the classism is, i think, fairly critical at points - certainly i wouldn’t say donna tartt is encouraging barbour-esque life, but as this article points out, there’s a significant association of morality with class in the book that i don’t think is good, at all).

the really significant issue for me, though, and the thing that makes me very uneasy about the goldfinch on many levels, is the racism. and look, i’m white, i am not at all the foremost expert on racism in anything, the goldfinch included, but i have eyes in my head, and i read the damn book, so i have noticed some things. there’s a lot of casual racism in the book, discussed in part in this article. sometimes it’s combined with classism - see, the absurd stuff about the deckers’ cleaning lady. more frequently, it’s perpetrated by boris - see the stuff in vegas, which i think tartt is somewhat disapproving of (the class-morality thing plays a role there as well). presented much more uncritically is the “china boy” stuff in amsterdam - boris somehow can’t remember the name of sascha’s boyfriend, says he doesn’t speak any “proper language”, etc, etc, and this is happening at the same time that theo uses multiple racial stereotypes to describe both sascha’s boyfriend (who, a quick review of the final chapter indicates, is never actually named), and the indonesian guard at the painting exchange. i think it’s important to note that there is no condemnation of anything boris says or theo thinks in this section - does donna tartt view boris’ anti-asian racism as a part of his “charming bad boy” character? does she think it’s completely fine, or just fine enough to write it seemingly completely uncritically? there’s not really any evidence that suggests otherwise. (the problems this presents are compounded by the fact that, imo, boris is somewhat a voice of moral truth in the novel, but that’s a whole other post).

this is all bad enough as is, but then we get to donna tartt’s inspiration for the book. she’s probably discussed it in a number of places, but i heard it about a month ago in this interview (i couldn’t say where in the video, as i was listening to it at work and didn’t mark it). she says, paraphrasing here, that one of her inspirations for the book was hearing about the 2001 destruction of the Buddhas of Bamyan by the taliban. fair enough, it was a disturbing event - i can see why it’d make someone start to consider some serious questions about cultural legacies and the importance of art that impacts generation after generation. 

but the goldfinch is not a book about the Buddhas of Bamyan. it’s not a book about non-western art at all. in fact, the one statement i can remember being made about non-western art in the entire book is from, very unfortunately, boris. he recalls, on page 1448 of the ebook version, that among the priceless pieces of art recovered from sascha’s safehouse along with the goldfinch, was “Asian artworks too. They looked to me worth nothing but I guess they were a lot.”

well.

it’s evident to me that there is, baked into the very foundation of the goldfinch, a dismissal of non-western art, and more specifically, and explicitly, asian art. i really don’t think it’s possible for there to be a non-racist explanation for that! i don’t think it’s possible to look at donna tartt’s inspiration for the novel and compare it to the way she centers it, again and again, on art by white people, and think that this is 1) totally by accident (which, even if it was, it would still be racist) or 2) not part of a larger problem in white western culture that donna tartt’s works have participated in prolonging, which is the focus on what is considered fundamental, culture-creating Classic Art (and philosophy etc etc etc) and the men who painted it to the absolute detriment of anything else. there is the art that donna tartt considers worth telling stories about, and there is the art that is worth nothing.

anyway, to summarize, no, i don’t consider the goldfinch to be a “good” book. i think there are aspects that take it out of the running to be considered generally “good.” and, you know, i read it, i enjoyed it, there are things about it that i find very powerful, and i have expended far too much time and energy thinking and writing and talking about the goldfinch in the last three months. and it’s not a good book.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Pluralistic: 05 Mar 2020 (New Pinkwater, RIP Jim Tyre, Right to Repair and covid, Radicalized is a bestseller, African Whatsapp modders)

Today's links

Daniel Pinkwater wrote a new novel! Yippee for "ADVENTURES OF A DWERGISH GIRL!"

Warner Chappel discoved a new form of copyright fuckery so dense it blew a wormhole into another dimension: From the people who fraudulently claimed to own "Happy Birthday" for decades.

RIP, Jim Tyre: The free internet just lost one of its most dedicated defenders.

Decentralizing the web is a human problem: The web needs stewards, not owners.

Right to Repair is the right to resilience: Independent repair is how we keep things going during emergencies.

Keyless car fobs can be defeated with a cheap RFID cloner: Car manufacturers wontfix a showstopper bug. Again.

Bookstores, libraries, human thriving and mental health: Books are great, even if the science behind their greatness is thin.

Copyright experts' panel on fair use removed from Youtube: A strange game. The only winning move is not to play. How about a nice game of chess?

Radicalized is out in paperback: Just hit every one of Canada's national bestseller lists, too!

African Whatsapp modders are outcompeting Facebook: Adversarial Interoperability is how you beat digital colonialism.

This day in history: 2015, 2019

Colophon: Recent publications, current writing projects, upcoming appearances, current reading

I'm coming to Kelowna, BC today! I'll be at the library from 6-8PM with my book Radicalized for the CBC's Canada Reads. It's free, but you need to RSVP (and most of the seats are gone, so act quick).

https://www.eventbrite.ca/e/cbc-radio-presents-in-conversation-with-cory-doctorow-tickets-96154415445

Daniel Pinkwater wrote a new novel! (permalink)

Well, this is amazing news. Daniel Pinkwater has a new middle grades novel coming out in September: ADVENTURES OF A DWERGISH GIRL!

https://tachyonpublications.com/bestselling-author-daniel-pinkwater-returns-in-classic-form-with-the-illustrated-middle-grade-adventures-of-a-dwergish-girl/

Molly O'Malley is a clever, adventurous girl. She is also a Dwerg. Dwergs are strange folks who live very quietly in the Catskill mountains, have lots of gold, and are kind of like dwarves (but also not!).

Molly isn't interested in cooking and weaving, as she is expected to be. So, she sets off to see the world for herself. Which means a new job, a trip to New York City, prowling gangsters, an adorable king, a city witch, and many historical ghosts. More importantly, it means excellent pizza, new friends, and very quick thinking.

Now someone is pursuing the Dwergs for their gold. Can Molly O'Malley save the day?

IOW: this is a book with every single thing I love about Pinkwater novels. Reading Daniel Pinkwater – as a kid and as an adult – was hugely important to my development as a writer and a human being. Meeting another Pinkwater fan is always a sign that you are among good people.

Warner Chappel discoved a new form of copyright fuckery so dense it blew a wormhole into another dimension (permalink)

I've seen some next-level copyfraud fuckery in my day, believe me, but Adam Neely's tale of Warner Chappell's copyfraud reaches a new height of absurdity.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KM6X2MEl7R8

This is sleazy even by Warner Chappell standards, and they're the crooks who fraudulently claimed ownership over Happy Birthday for decades.

https://vimeo.com/172715640

Buckle up for this one, as it is an onion of bizarre, bad-faith corporate behavior, with each layer peeling back to reveal another, even weirder and more terrible one. It starts with a garbage lawsuit against Katy Perry for including a piece of background music in her song Dark Horse that was similar to another very generic lick in an obscure Christian rap song called "A Joyful Noise."

No one claimed that Katy Perry lifted the brief snatch of music from Joyful Noise. Rather, the case turned on the precedent set when Martin Gaye's heirs sued Robin Thicke over "Blurred Lines," arguing that the song had a similar vibe to Gaye's. Gaye's heirs should not have won that suit. But they did. And it opened the floodgates to nuisance suits targeting the likes of Perry and her publisher, Warner-Chappell. They lost the suit and got hit for $2.8m.

This isn't even the fuckery part, by the way.

Enter Adam Neely, who created a massively successful viral video defending Warner Chappell and Katy Perry, arguing that the suit was garbage. The video was so successful he went on national media to discuss the case and was even asked to sign onto an amicus brief.

Let the fuckery begin:

Warner Chappell has claimed copyright over Neely's video, claiming that a few seconds of music that he used was the "melody" of Katy Perry's song.

Further fuckery:

In the case, Warner Chappell argued that this specific musical phrase was not the melody, and was rather some incidental background sound.

Fuckery extreme:

The Warner Chappell claim was not automated. A human manually claimed this phrase of music as Warner-Chappell's, despite:

a) Them having disclaimed ownership of it in a lawsuit,

b) Losing that suit and being told by a court that it wasn't theirs.

Fuckery to the max!

But the musical phrase they claimed ownership over was from "A Joyful Noise," the song they lost two point eight million dollars over, having claimed that their song was not confusingly similar to it.

The two musical phrases – the one from "Dark Horse" and the one from "Joyful Noise" – were so similar that Warner-Chappell's own copyright enforcers mistakenly claimed copyright over the wrong one!

2020 folks. Don't forget to tip your servers, they work hard.

RIP, Jim Tyre (permalink)

My old EFF comrade Jim Tyre just died.

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/03/rip-eff-special-counsel-jim-tyre

Jim was a tireless civil liberties litigator, a titan of First Amendment law whose entree to tech law was defending people who criticized censorware companies who wildly overblocked what schoolkids could see. He was also incredibly garrulous, funny, a born raconteur whose encylopedic memory served him well both as a storyteller and a litigator.

Jim worked on the 2600 DMCA case, he defended Ed Felten when he was threatened by the RIAA, he fought ICANN, and he was key to our longrunning suit against NSA over mass surveillance.

Jim always worked offsite. He lived in LA and had eye problems that rendered him nearly completely blind. But he kept a stash of cash at the EFF offices so he could contribute to every whip-round for a baby gift or a wedding present.

He was a true mensch.

Decentralizing the web is a human problem (permalink)

My old EFF colleague Mai Sutton just published a smashing primer on competition, interoperability, and stewardship and the world of tech:

https://www.techdirt.com/articles/20200228/22053744006/defeating-tech-giants-with-open-protocols-interoperability-shared-stewardship.shtm

After delivering a good backgrounder on the history of the wars between shared protocols and proprietary technologies, Mai delves into the thicket of laws that have cropped up to prevent technologists from adding interoperability to existing technologies.

This has led to a new online enclosure, with "Google" becoming synonymous with "search" and "Facebook" synonymous with "social media." These businesses once competed, but today, they preside alone, over protected territory.

But some of that is changing. Between legislative proposals, new standardization efforts, the Decentralized Web movement and its protocols, and a reinvigorated threat of antitrust enforcement, there's some hope that the web will reopen and redecentralize.

Ultimately, Mai writes, this has more to do with how we view the web than how we use it. If we think of the online world as a shared space for humanity then the technologists who keep it running are stewards, not owners.

(Image: Dietrich Ayala (https://hacks.mozilla.org/2018/07/introducing-the-d-web/) and Open Clip Art (https://openclipart.org/)

Right to Repair is the right to resilience (permalink)

Writing in Wired, Kyle Wiens makes the crucial link between the Right To Repair and resilience, especially during moments of disruption to global supply chains.

https://www.wired.com/story/opinion-the-right-to-repair-will-help-us-endure-outbreaks/

It's no coincidence that farms and farmers have been leaders in Right to Repair: when you're isolated and you're not allowed to fix your stuff, it means that you can neither nip down to the shops for a replacement, nor easily have an authorized repair tech come to your place.

Covid can put everyone – even entire nations – into the position of that isolated farmer. As Long Beach port is denuded of shipping containers, as air- and rail-links are broken between parts of the country, the stream of parts, replacement units and technicians stops.

A key principle of resilience is to put resources at the edge, replacing hub-and-spoke models with point-to-point, peer-to-peer ones that infuse the system with redundancy. Neoliberalism hates redundancy and equates it with wastefulness.

https://twitter.com/doctorow/status/1228326004508151808

But redundancy is the key to graceful failure-modes. Limiting repairs to authorized service centers works well (reliable, and certainly great for shareholders), but it fails very, very badly. Right to Repair is how our hospitals, schools, infrastructure maintenance, first responder and other vital services will keep the lights on if things go horribly wrong. Resiliency may be bad for shareholder value, but it's vital to human survival.

Keyless car fobs can be defeated with a cheap RFID cloner (permalink)

Toyota, Hyundai and Kia keyless ignition fobs can be cloned by attackers who get within a few inches of your pocket (say, at a conference), thanks to implementation errors that the auto-makers made with their Texas Instruments DST80 security systems.

https://www.wired.com/story/hackers-can-clone-millions-of-toyota-hyundai-kia-keys/

All you need is a Proxmark RFID scanner, which retails for about $300. That's more than the range-extenders used to steal cars from out front of targets' homes, but unlike those attackers, fob-cloners can start and stop the car as often as they like.

https://hackerwarehouse.com/product/proxmark3-rdv4-kit/

The researchers who did this work come from KU Leuven and the University of Birmingham. Their paper is great:

https://tches.iacr.org/index.php/TCHES/article/view/8546/8111

The attack on its own does not let you start the cars. All it does is disable the immobilizer that stopped people from hot-wiring the ignition system with a screwdriver.

"You're downgrading the security to what it was in the '80s." -Flavio Garcia, University of Birmingham.

The implementation mistakes by the car companies are embarrassingly basic. Kia and Hyundai's implementation only has 24 bits of randomness ("a couple milliseconds with a laptop"). Toyota uses a serial number as a seed, then transmits that serial number in the clear. The companies, naturally, are saying it's no biggie. Toyota claims the attack requires "a highly specialized device that is not commonly available on the market." This just isn't true. I found it with literally one search.

None of the vendors have offered to fix the problem for drivers who bring their cars to garages.

It's depressing, but at least now you know whether you can trust your car's security.

"It's better to be in a place where we know what kind of security we're getting from our security devices. Otherwise, only the criminals know." -Flavio Garcia.

Bookstores, libraries, human thriving and mental health (permalink)

I love Lydia Smith's hymn to the mental health benefits of books, libraries and reading (even if I think the science is less than convincing)

https://www.opendemocracy.net/en/transformation/how-books-and-bookshops-improve-our-mental-health-and-why-we-must-protect-them/

Reading fiction definitely stretches your empathy. For a novel to work, you have to be invested in the lives of people who don't even exist. The death of the yogurt you digested with breakfast this morning is technically more tragic than the deaths of Romeo and Juliet. The yogurt was really alive and now it's really dead. Romeo and Juliet neither lived nor died. Fiction reading is varsity-level empathy!

I agree that the traditional fiction arc – adversity met and overcome – can lighten a dark day. I turn to Kim Stanley Robinson's "Pacific Edge" whenever I'm blue for that reason. I even played a small role in getting adapted for DRM-free audio.

https://boingboing.net/2015/01/15/audio-edition-of-pacific-edge.html

(Pacific Edge was just reissued as a "Tor Essential" in an omnibus with the other two "Californias" novels, sporting a fabulous intro by Francis Spufford. Run, don't walk!)

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250307569

It's also utterly true that books are a path to resilience and self-reliance, filled as they can be with how-tos, analysis and technical knowledge. As the Whole Earth Catalogues used to have it, "Access to tools and ideas."

(It must be said that the net is infinitely better at this than print books, provided you can get online. The use of a time-transported town library to jumpstart post-industrial civilization during the 30 Years War in Eric Flint's 1632 is delightful)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1632_(novel)

Libraries, of course, are the last place in our civilization where you are welcomed because you are a human being, not because you are an ambulatory wallet. Librarians, resist the urge to call people "customers." They're "patrons." That's far more dignified (and accurate).

And working in a bookstore is certainly therapeutic, for certain values of therapy. It can be a grind, but OMG is it ever great connecting people with books that you love and watching them fall in love, too. Generally I'm in accord with the essay. I just don't think the studies cited are of very high quality and/or recency.

It's OK to say, "I love bookstores and libraries because they're fabulous" without having to provide evidence for that fabulousness.

Copyright experts' panel on fair use removed from Youtube (permalink)

NYU law school's Engelberg Center on Innovation Law & Policy held a symposium on copyright and the net with a panel on "when one song infringes the copyright of another and to prove if the accused song is 'substantially similar' enough to be illegal."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UVQTz65Bq70

The video of the panel was taken down from Youtube after multiple copyright complaints from rightsholders who claimed that the brief clips, chosen by America's leading copyright experts as being fair use, were infringing.

https://www.law.nyu.edu/centers/engelberg/news/2020-03-04-youtube-takedown

These clips weren't just fair use; they'd been chosen by top legal scholars to illustrate what fair use was.

The rightsholder reps who issued the takedown claims for these videos did so manually – that is, these complaints were not automatically generated.

In the grand tradition of copyfraud fuckery, when the law professors appealed, the rights enforcement dimbulbs (trained on xeroxed procedures in three-ring binders) reasserted their claims, putting the law school at risk of losing its Youtube account.

https://pluralistic.net/2020/03/05/warner-chappell-copyfraud#warnerchappell

The law profs knew they had the law on their side, but they weren't ready to appeal, because if they lost their appeal, they'd get a Youtube "copystrike," which could also cost them their accounts. And since there were multiple claims, they weren't sure if they'd get multiple strikes by appealing. Youtube's docs don't make this clear, and going through Youtube channels yielded nothing but radio silence.

Now, these are eminent law professors at a top university, so they were able to make some insider calls to Youtube, who lifted the complaints altogether and reinstated the video. But no one ever clarified the multiple-claims/multiple copystrike procedure.

Moral: When it comes to Youtube, it doesn't matter if you're a nationally recognized copyright expert. You can't argue with anonymous, hamfisted rights-enforcer assholes to assert your speech rights. The only way to guarantee those rights is to know someone on the inside.

Radicalized is out in paperback (permalink)

My book Radicalized, a collection of four science fiction novellas, just came out in paperback!

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250229250

It's quite a week for the book! It's a finalist for Canada Reads, one of Canada's national book prizes, and the paperback immediately hit all of Canada's national bestseller lists!

I'm especially delighted to make the indie stores' bestseller list:

https://www.cbc.ca/books/the-bestselling-canadian-books-for-the-week-of-feb-23-29-2020-1.5484366

It's headlining the Toronto Star's list:

https://www.thestar.com/entertainment/books/2020/03/04/toronto-star-bestsellers-for-the-week-ending-march-4-2020.html

And there's one more national bestseller list that it's hit, but I can't name it until later this week, when it's published. But yeah, it's a hell of a week!

African Whatsapp modders are outcompeting Facebook (permalink)

Whatsapp is more popular than Facebook in Africa – but unauthorized, souped-up, third-party mods of Whatsapp are more popular still.

https://qz.com/africa/1804859/fake-whatsapp-app-more-popular-than-facebook-instagram-in-africa/

African software developers have modified the Whatsapp app to make it suitable to local users. The mods are transmitted from person to person, and sideloaded onto mobile devices.

The king of mods is GB Whatsapp, which allows for multiple accounts on a single device, ups file-transmissions from 16MB to 50MB, and includes privacy features like masking when you're online. GB Whatapp alone has more African users than the Facebook app.

All these mods communicate with users of the stock Whatapp system and with each other. They're tremendous examples of #AdversarialInteroperability, where hackers give users better, situation-appropriate tools without asking an incumbent's permission.

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/10/adversarial-interoperability

They really cleanly illustrate how Adversarial Interop defeats network effects by using it against incumbents. The fact that Whatsapp is the most popular app in Africa is an ADVANTAGE for Whatapp modders: they get to treat every Whatsapp user as a potential customer. These mods also show how Adversarial Interop is key to technological self-determination. Rather than meekly submitting to digital colonialism, modders ignore the choices and preferences of a massive US firm and its shareholders and deliver local solutions for local people.

Facebook's response is predictable. Mods violate our terms of service. Modders are crooks. Users caught using mods face bans.

Modders just tell their users to sign up with secondary phone numbers to avoid bans.

Colonial American industry enjoyed a huge advantage over UK rivals because it disregarded UK patents and copyrights, allowing American firms to leapfrog the former colonial masters. Now that it is a net exporter of tech, it expects foreign countries to respect its rules.

This day in history (permalink)

#5yrsago Justice Department issues "scorching" report on Ferguson's Police Department https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2015/03/ferguson-cops-routinely-block-public-from-filming-them-doj-says/

#5yrsago Matt Haughey retires from Metafilter https://metatalk.metafilter.com/23626/Sixteen-Years

#1yrago The NSA has reportedly stopped data-mining Americans' phone and SMS records https://www.nytimes.com/2019/03/04/us/politics/nsa-phone-records-program-shut-down.html

#1yrago Jibo the social robot announces that its VC overlords have remote-killswitched it, makes pathetic farewell address and dances a final step https://www.theverge.com/circuitbreaker/2019/3/4/18250104/jibo-social-robot-server-shutdown-offline-dead

#1yrago BATHDOOM: A Doom level based on a terrible bathroom remodel https://www.vice.com/en_us/article/eveknn/the-hot-new-doom-mod-is-a-nightmare-diy-bathroom-renovation-bathdoom

#1yrago The People's Republic of Walmart: how late-stage capitalism gives way to early-stage fully automated luxury communism https://boingboing.net/2019/03/05/walmart-without-capitalism.html

#1yrago History is made: petition opposing the EU's #Article13 internet censorship plan draws more signatures than any petition in EU history https://www.change.org/p/european-parliament-stop-the-censorship-machinery-save-the-internet

#1yrago London councils plan to slash benefit payments with an "anti-fraud" system known to have a 20% failure rate https://news.sky.com/story/thousands-face-incorrect-benefit-cuts-from-automated-fraud-detector-11651031

#1yrago America is not "polarized": it's a land where a small minority tyrannize the supermajority https://www.nytimes.com/2019/03/05/opinion/oppression-majority.html

Colophon (permalink)

Today's top sources: Carl Sondrol (https://twitter.com/sondrol), Naked Capitalism (https://nakedcapitalism.com/), JWZ (https://www.jwz.org/blog/), Danny O'Brien (oblomovka.com/)

Hugo nominators! My story "Unauthorized Bread" is eligible in the Novella category and you can read it free on Ars Technica: https://arstechnica.com/gaming/2020/01/unauthorized-bread-a-near-future-tale-of-refugees-and-sinister-iot-appliances/

Upcoming appearances:

Canada Reads Kelowna: March 5, 6PM, Kelowna Library, 1380 Ellis Street, with CBC's Sarah Penton https://www.eventbrite.ca/e/cbc-radio-presents-in-conversation-with-cory-doctorow-tickets-96154415445

Currently writing: I just finished a short story, "The Canadian Miracle," for MIT Tech Review. It's a story set in the world of my next novel, "The Lost Cause," a post-GND novel about truth and reconciliation. I'm getting geared up to start work on the novel now, though the timing is going to depend on another pending commission (I've been solicited by an NGO) to write a short story set in the world's prehistory.

Currently reading: Just started Lauren Beukes's forthcoming Afterland: it's Y the Last Man plus plus, and two chapters in, it's amazeballs. Last month, I finished Andrea Bernstein's "American Oligarchs"; it's a magnificent history of the Kushner and Trump families, showing how they cheated, stole and lied their way into power. I'm getting really into Anna Weiner's memoir about tech, "Uncanny Valley." I just loaded Matt Stoller's "Goliath" onto my underwater MP3 player and I'm listening to it as I swim laps.

Latest podcast: Disasters Don't Have to End in Dystopias: https://craphound.com/podcast/2020/03/01/disasters-dont-have-to-end-in-dystopias/

Upcoming books: "Poesy the Monster Slayer" (Jul 2020), a picture book about monsters, bedtime, gender, and kicking ass. Pre-order here: https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781626723627?utm_source=socialmedia&utm_medium=socialpost&utm_term=na-poesycorypreorder&utm_content=na-preorder-buynow&utm_campaign=9781626723627

(we're having a launch for it in Burbank on July 11 at Dark Delicacies and you can get me AND Poesy to sign it and Dark Del will ship it to the monster kids in your life in time for the release date).

"Attack Surface": The third Little Brother book, Oct 20, 2020.

"Little Brother/Homeland": A reissue omnibus edition with a very special, s00per s33kr1t intro.

[bccity]

JUNE 2019 BC ENTERTAINMENT SCHEDULES & REVIEW

Members may earn 3 points each (up to 6 points) for writing, by the end of June 30 KST:

A solo para of 400+ words based on their monthly schedule (does not count toward your monthly limit).

A thread of six posts (three per participant, including the starter) based on the monthly schedule.

Threads and solos do not have to take place directly during an important date listed on the schedule, but must be related to what the muse is mentioned to be doing in the paragraph explaining their schedule/the company’s schedule for the month and/or their thoughts on the mentioned activities or lack thereof.

These schedules may be updated throughout the month if new information needs to be added.

Overall Company

There’s still whispers around the company about an end nearing to the Goeun situation, from talk that she’s going to sign with Gold Star due to the article about her meeting with Bang Sunyoung last summer to rumors that BC is going to completely blacklist her and sell rumors about her to the press, but any higher-ups or legal employees who hear people talking are quick to shut them down and give a lecture about gossiping. The retreat could very well serve as a good distraction for everyone in the company. Still, everyone under the company being encouraged to attend their labelmates’ events (namely Lipstick’s concert this month and WISH’s concert next month) in the coming months to show a united front could be taken as a sign something’s coming.

Important dates:

June 1-6: Hawaii retreat.

Decipher

Now that active promotions for their latest comeback have concluded, this month is spent on preparing for their sold out fan meeting at the end of the month. The fan meeting is awards show themed, so each member will be tasked with working with their managers to come up with a (semi-)comedic award title to be presented to them and a speech that will accompany it. There will also be performances of a handful of their recent title tracks, a cover stage by each member, and an unexpected performance of “Heartthrob” by Decipher V as an unofficial tease of the unit’s newly planned return.

Important dates:

June 30: Decipher Awards fanmeeting at Korea University Hwajeong Gymnasium in Seoul, South Korea.

              ↳ Decipher R & V

This month, Decipher V is called into a meeting announcing BC plans to have them make a comeback this year after after five years, likely due to the company’s decreasing profits, but no one outright says that. Preparations are set to begin next month.

Important dates:

June 15: Meeting with management.

BEE

Their comeback this month does very well, not that BC would have settled for any less. It looks to be the surefire song of the summer (until Femme Fatale comes back and proves to be major competition for that title, that is). Two variety show appearances are also scheduled, where they’ll be asked image-building questions approved by BC about re-signing with BC, their future hopes for the group, their friendship, and show off their special skills and tell cute stories. At the end of the month, they’ll be announced as one of the new Seoul Metropolitan City Ambassadors and attend a ceremony with the other chosen figures.

Important dates:

June 4: Release of “I Swear” & pre-recorded Sweet & Sour mini album showcase, promotions continue until July 4.

June 11: Radio Star filming (to be aired June 19).

June 18: Happy Together filming (to be aired June 27).

June 27: Seoul Metropolitan City Ambassador ceremony at Sewoon Hall in Seoul, South Korea (also attending: 7ROPHY).

Knight

Knight will be staying a few extra days following the Hawaii retreat in Hawaii to film for a group photo book that will be released later in the year. There isn’t much publicly on the schedule this month save for an appearance as the “dream stars” on an episode of Stage K where they’ll serve as the panel giving feedback on cover groups performing several of their songs and give an interview with questions on their favorite Knight choreography, the hardest Knight choreography, and the most memorable choreography to them. Privately, they’ll be spending long hours at the company building finishing album recording early in the month and then going on to learning choreographies for the new songs and doing photo jacket shoots for the album. They’ll film the music video during the last week of the month. Additionally, they’ll be filming a CF for Lotte Duty Free as part of BC’s mission to take full advantage of a potential company partnership with Lotte.

Important dates:

June 7-9: Photo book shoots in Hawaii.

June 11: Filming for Stage K episode (to be aired: June 23).

June 18: Lotte Duty Free CF filming.

June 24: Now or Never M/V filming.

              ↳ White Knight

While the full group records and prepares for their comeback next month, the White Knight members are also recording for a Japanese single release at the end of the month. They already recorded an initial version to perform the song on their Japanese tour last month, but management wants to re-record parts before it’s officially released, so they’ll be in the studio to fix parts. After this single release, it seems White Knight won’t have any schedules for the foreseeable future, another sign of BC’s shifting focus to their junior group.

Important dates:

June 28: Release of “Paper Cuts” Japanese single.

Lipstick

Their tour kicks off in Seoul mid-month, which means the two weeks leading up to it are busy with rehearsal. The concerts will also include their first performances of their new single a few days before it releases on top of their greatest hits from throughout their career. They’ll also be filming a CF for Lotte Department Store, who is helping sponsor their tour, this month. On top of that, word has passed down that the company plans for Lipstick to release a new Japanese single around October, the music video for which will have a brief nostalgic flashback to First Love era with a pole dancing intro, so the members are back into pole dancing lessons a couple of times this month to reteach them that skill in case they’ve forgotten.

Important dates:

June 15: Prima Donna tour concert at Olympic Handball Gymnasium in Seoul, South Korea. 

June 16: Prima Donna tour concert at Olympic Handball Gymnasium in Seoul, South Korea. 

June 19: Release of “Lil’ Touch” & single album, promotions continue until July 19.

June 21: Lotte Department Store CF filming.

              ↳ Lip Gloss

No schedules.

CHARM

Members are allowed to begin moving out on June 17 after returning from their main schedule this month (though they’ve only been trainee debt-free for about six months thanks to their size), a fan sign in Kuala Lumpur as part of their group deal with The SAEM. Said fan sign won’t go as smoothly as BC had hoped thanks to a delay in getting through the airport leaving the group arriving two hours later than the scheduled start time, but once they’re there, they’ll go through normal fan sign duties and be asked questions by the event’s MC about their skin care routines, which member has the best bare face/skin, and do their best fan service to apologize for their late arrival. Next month, they’ll become BC’s next group to embark on a 2019 Japan tour (before a Japanese release in the third quarter of the year), so rehearsals for that are underway as well.

Important dates:

June 15: The SAEM x CHARM fansign at Pavilion Kuala Lumpur in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia.

WISH

The general public and fanbase may not see WISH’s latest comeback as a complete failure, but WISH’s team is in emergency mode and jumping on the performance of their latest single as a glaring warning sign. They may have outsold themselves physically, but “Fancy” was their first promoted single not to go number one in three years and also only achieved one music show win, a low only slightly above their debut song and “Dream Girls”. Their team is cracking down with stricter diets and curfews and more practice time, seemingly punishing the members for results most other girl groups spend their whole careers wanting to achieve. Rumors of summer comebacks from WISH’s biggest competition isn’t helping things either, and may explain BC’s rush to sign onto a new contract with Estèe Lauder and get a CF filmed. This month, behind the scenes work is the name of the game as most days are spent either rehearsing for their world tour, including special unit stages doled out by BC, which begins next month or recording for their next Japanese release, which is scheduled for August.

Important dates:

June 12: Fansign in Gangnam, Seoul.

June 13: End of music show promotions

June 20: Estèe Lauder CF filming.

[essaychecker884]

professional essay writers

About me

5 Steps To Becoming A Professional Writer

5 Steps To Becoming A Professional Writer Eventually one thing will click on and you'll begin to give you concepts which are more helpful. You can at all times delete/throw out what you wrote later however you must begin someplace. Entrepreneur Networkis a premium video community providing leisure, education and inspiration from successful entrepreneurs and thought leaders. 1- If you sit down at your specified time and are drawing a blank, get a brand new document/piece of paper and freewrite. Write ANYTHING, even should you just write “I don't know what to say” again and again. It additionally occurs that fresh ideas flood your mind regarding even different issues you could have written about or are yet to write down about. This is nice recommendation, and it’s all the time good to listen to what the professionals have to say. I attempt to squeeze in an afternoon session every so often, but most of these end of being unproductive. It’s far better to write down for 3 significant hours than 6 mediocre ones. We provide experience and opportunities to accelerate brand progress and successfully monetize video and audio content material distributed across all digital platforms for the business style. Donald H. Hewitt wrote screenplays for several successful anime films, including ‘Spirited Away,’ and ‘Howl’s Moving Castle.’ He stated the common author wage range can be in comparison with the average pro-athlete’s wage. Don’t let anyone tell you that knowledgeable writing profession is impossible. It’ll take work and dedication, identical as anything, but in at present’s world, it’s extra doubtless than ever earlier than. No author ever offered one million copies of an unfinished story…not whereas they were still alive.” Like you mentioned, DISCIPLINE!!! That is the distinction between a publsihed wirter and an aspiring writer. Her most up-to-date collection of essays is known as I Wasn't Always Like This . She continues to evaluate books, and sells her own at the Ladysmith Farmers’ Market in Ladysmith, BC on Tuesdays. ​ Her most up-to-date e-book is I Wasn’t Always Like This . The Moon Watched It All (illustrated youngsters’s book) shall be out in 2016 with Red Deer Press. But when you learn to deal with writing as a business, it’ll start to pay like a business. Learn to view creative writing through a business-oriented lens. In different phrases, in terms of knowledgeable writing profession, it’s easier than ever to fake it ‘til you make it. Whether you’re at present employed or in-between jobs, it’s important to have a resume and canopy letter tailor-made for when the right opportunity comes alongside. It’s a proven fact that profitable firms, large and small, typically pay exterior professionals to create essential texts. Why do they outsource a primary ability like writing? Shelley A. Leedahl is a prolific multi-genre writer. Honestly, I really feel that if this guide doesn’t make even somewhat stir—and albeit, earn me even a modicum of income—it would simply be time to cease scribbling. I’ve been writing and publishing books in multiple genres since 1990, when Thistledown Press released my first collection of poetry, A Few Words For January. Back in those days, I truly had the chutzpah to sell books door-to-door in my neighbourhood. I’d prefer to make a correction about frail bladders. I’m not making a full time dwelling yet, however made it via 5 novellas and doing five more even when my bladder curses me each morning. Not a writer myself, however I will spend the remainder of my nights in search of a space dragon peeking around the moon. I dabble in writing, and work full-time as an Author Account Manager for a self-publishing firm. I want I may show this article to all of my authors. So many people need to merely be capital W “Writers” and go to e-book signings, but need to skip previous that pesky “writing” portion. And these days, we’ve received everything we have to learn later. I normally like to go through completely different articles describing conflicting opinions a couple of topic before I fireplace up my word processor. The drawback is there’s so much materials and so little time to read all of it. And things tend to get tedious if you’re trying to find key highlights and differences between articles written a couple of comparable subject. Nonetheless AI-powered writing assistance is quick changing into a aggressive market.

[xoxoangel]

this is such a weird take to me (at the article) because yes cyberpunk in many ways missed in some points, but i feel the last place they fucked up on was characters? i think despite the state it was released in the characters were done well, and i think dlc and further updates will only make it better. river is not only indigenous (so i doubt he’s really homophobic or an overly masculine man, most first nation people like myself don’t view sexuality or gender as largely as modern society), but if you actually pay attention to his story he is far from that. he’s just a regular nice guy who wants justice and to protect his family.

to assume river is now suddenly a “mans man” all because he does not feel attraction to male v is stupid. i honestly think the rejection aspect of the game makes it all more realistic, and it’s not like any of them let you down rudely. people are straight, lol. but that doesn’t automatically make them all of a sudden hyper masculine or homophobic. and who knows if river is straight? he could just not feel attraction to male v in canon, and considering his fucking nephew got kidnapped, i wouldn’t be ready to jump back into dating either.

^^ that’s the other thing,, sure romance and relationships still go on even in traumatic situations.. but why does it always need to? just saying but here’s a quick summary of all the love interests storylines and issues.

river is working for a corrupt system and just wants justice, so he goes after his missing nephew and is terrified that he’s too late.

one of the most important people in judys life killed herself, and she’s now trying to take down Clouds and save more sex workers.

panam struggled in night city alone and most likely lived in her truck,, she also left her clan and family that was basically her whole life (she also loses scorpion, and three other dear friends depending on which ending you choose)

kerry is a washed up rockstar that lived in his friends shadow for years and is scared to actually go off on his own. not only that, but he also has two kids !!

add all that to v’s deteriorating health and the fact johnny silverhand is in their head a good portion of the game, it’s understandable for rejection to happen. it’s realistic, and not all of them may feel attracted to v.

also WHEN does kerry ever show signs of hating women and to assume a gay relationship is built out of that is so ,, bad .. it’s like this article went so far left it went right

and the whole Clouds thing is just ?? dumb ?? whether male or female v doesn’t want to open up bc oh i don’t know... would you want to talk about something killing you to a stranger?? what does that have to do with toxic masculinity...

i feel like this game had intentions to really stick it to heteronormativity (even if the games main audience was still cishet reddit men). and in a way, they did. the ability to have a different sounding voice and genitals could’ve been something a lot better (although the pronouns aspect was flawed) was nonetheless a good feature? the game also has two lovely canon bisexual and lesbian characters, and a transgender character as well. perhaps i’m missing a game or two but this is the first game i’ve seen with a transgender character portrayed well and given depth. to see that in a triple a title is amazing to me and i think cdpr did not fuck that up.

tldr: cyberpunk is far from a game that in anyway promotes toxic masculinity and if this writer actually paid attention to the story instead of just finding things to critique, perhaps they would’ve written a better article. if they really wanted to find issues, write more about the awful portrayal of sex workers in this game !!! that is legitimately the biggest issue i saw with the game, because outside of it i found the world to be charming.

I don't normally do breakdowns of things that make me mad on principle because it's bad for your health, but a gaming website I frequent dropped a fucking nuclear grade hot take about Cyberpunk that I feel preternaturally compelled to scream about so let's go

Just to spare you having to read the whole thing to find out what its "point" is I'll summarize for you: it's because River Ward doesn't want to fuck Male!V and because you aren't forced to talk about your feelings with the doll in the scene at Clouds. I'm serious:

Apparently River Ward gently turning Male!V down, the two of them continuing to be friends who respect one another and care deeply about one another is equivalent to River Ward fucking gay bashing V, in this writer's opinion (EDIT: just for reference, here's the scene where River "recoils like shit was being smeared on his face"; truly the hate crime of the century). "What about Kerry" you as- KERRY IS A FUCKING EVIL MISOGYNISTIC TERRORIST YOU FUCKING SHITLORD STFU

The other thing the author brings up is the scene in Clouds where V has to talk to Angel/Skye. Apparently this scene also reinforces toxic masculinity (nvm mind the fact you can be playing as Fem!V this WHOLE TIME but I'm ignoring that) because it doesn't literally force the player to talk about their feelings and gives them an option to use a safeword

I don't know WHY its a thing in fucking woke media discourse to think a piece of media is obligated to do anything. Cyberpunk is about whatever the fuck its creators wanted it to be and in this scene that was not deconstructing toxic masculinity and therapizing its straight male demographic like fucking Talkspace but progressing with a main story mission at the player's own pace. Jesus.

For the last time this is a video game not a fucking social service.

Also, PSA, from one gay to another: MEN NOT WANTING TO FUCK YOU DOES NOT MEAN THEY'RE SUFFERING FROM TOXIC MASCULINITY. That's literal incel shit. The fact that this author thinks the tenderness that does exist between Male!V and River is undercut by them not smashing cause River is straight belies a deep, deep misunderstanding about what toxic masculinity is and a creepy ass sexual entitlement that I'm glad this writer only feels towards a fictional man. Do NOT pull shit like this in real life.

Anyway I'm not linking to this article but if you want to read it in its entirety (why lol) you can look up its title. Don't send hate to the author and harass him over it, uwu. We all get mouth diarrhea every now and then ❤️

[lafemmeaequitas]

The Difference is Black and White: All Feminism Is Not Created Equal.

A childhood friend and I chat and catch up from time to time via the webz. She is working on her Ph.D. in Florida and I like to pick her brain about things going on. Our conversations sometimes end up at race, sexism, black community ish, feminism, etc. On the matter of feminism, I summed up white feminism in a few words:

White feminism is the peak of white woman boredom. They have run out of shit to do! White feminism operates on the premise of white women muling and laboring tirelessly to prove that they are equal to their men and can hang with the boys, not realizing that they have a patriarch that is doing what it’s supposed to do collectively and has done since the being: protect and provide. White women want to be just as oppressive as white men. White women have run out of shit to do. They want so badly to be oppressed when they don’t have to be. White women have a worthy collective patriarch that protects, provides, builds and supports. They actually have a standard of care, which was set by white men and is reinforced by white men. Faux-pression is a helluva drug. White feminism is edgy, fun, even, because being protected physically, financially, and socially, is apparently boring. Meanwhile, black feminism has been about liberation from oppression and violence committed by the insecure, feckless, and subpar black patriarch, which has failed, and miserably so, to set a standard of care for black women and girls. Black women are head and shoulders above black men and we’ve never needed to prove we could be equal to men we had already surpassed. Harriet Tubman didn’t sit around and wait for a black man to make moves. She said: “Fuck it. I’ll do it” and it was made so. She is the OG of feminism. It was then that the jig was up for the black male collective. It’s hard to respect a collective that failed at a very important job. Why in the world would black women work to take a demotion to prove we are equal to a collective of men to which we are and always have been far superior?

She asked me, “Why aren’t I seeing any scholarly publications from you?! You write about pertinent information or even non scholarly forums?!”

I said, “People don’t want to come to the original source because they are arrogant. Like…how are you going to dictate feminism to the ORIGINAL feminists? It’s okay to not found/create/produce everything. It’s not okay to not acknowledge the original sources and creators. Black feminism and white feminism are so separate from each other…”

White women can be so confidently arrogant while at the same time woefully and painfully unaware. White women don’t realize how their lives and image greatly differ from those of black women. They don’t know that the stakes are different for us and them. They don’t see the overall collective familial and social support they have and if something goes wrong with their spouse and/or children, anything that disrupts the dynamic, they have a safety net. Look at starter marriages. White women are the spokeswomen of starter marriages. I have more than a few examples of starter marriages involving white friends and acquaintances who moved on to the next man with their kids in tow and/or before the ink on their divorce decree was dry. White women get hella mulligans and children from previous relationships don’t make them damaged goods. White women have the social support such that their image isn’t tarnished because of being single moms. In fact, white women are the FACE of positive single motherhood by CHOICE. The articles I’ve read and the books I’ve seen out there regarding white women and being single mothers by choice present this choice in such a positive and supportive light. The image of black single mothers, whether by choice or not, has no positive collective support, at all. White single mothers aren’t blamed for the ills in the white community. Anything that goes wrong in the black community will be blamed on black single moms. All of the finger pointing is at black single moms, and what they do with the $17.83 child support check they receive each month with the legal father is working a job that takes out taxes.

On January 21st, white women marched because Trump grabbed WHITE women’s pussies. The same women who are a part of the collective of ww that elected him…were marching. They weren’t marching for women. They were marching for WHITE women. Trump is a grabber of only the finest of white pussies. Sis, this isn’t about you and your best interests. It never was. Think about all of the things that have been happening to black women on a collective and individual level. Who was taking up the cross and advocating for us? Remember; when white women were burning their Maidenform bras, YOUR black mothers, grandmothers, and Annies were hooking theirs closed to go to work at a second job, just to feed, clothe, and house a family that they didn’t create alone but somehow got stuck raising and defending solo. Rebecca got to return to her nice house in the suburbs. When white women are tired of throwing rocks, they wash their hands and hide them.

About the only thing black women and white women have in common is the centering of the black phallus. The same ww who believe #blacklivesmatter are very quick to dismiss black women when we speak of the undercurrent in the BC regarding domestic violence, sexual abuse, poverty, homophobia, etc. and the disproportionate impact on black women and girls. “That happens to white women, too.” “We get judged for x,y, and z, too.” NO IT DOESN’T AND NO YOU DON’T OR WE WOULDN’T BE HAVING THIS CONVERSATION, REBECCA.” They retort with, “#yesallwomen, attempting to dismiss and marginalize black women and girls while giving black men priority and preference, after of course, they have centered their ivory, beige, and porcelain selves, which is proof positive that even in white, well-meaning, gentrified spaces, the black peen reigns supreme.

White women have failed in their quest for equality, namely because they have no idea what they are doing. They’re running around here in pink pussy hats thinking that they are really moving mountains. They’re not though. They are tired and worn out and their attempts have backfired, because the best thing(s) white feminism has produced is the possibility of women going to wars started by MEN, women paying for dates, and splitting bills down the middle while still doing most of, if not all of the “woman’s work”.

White women have too much free time.

And you know what? I think they are starting to realize that they have gotten a raw deal, which makes me suspect that this (white feminism) was never about their equality but their attempt to coopt something else from black women, and center themselves, not knowing the story behind it. They didn’t know what they were taking on. They bit off more than they can chew. This isn’t a secret potato salad or macaroni and cheese recipe they can easily Columbus. This isn’t a new thing they “discovered”, like boxer braids. This life as an unambiguously black woman, with brown skin and features that remain undiluted by European DNA, isn’t for the faint of heart. This is a commitment, a daily tightrope of being strong, but not too strong, pretty, but not too pretty, kind, but not too kind, smart but not too smart, magical but not overwhelming so. White women aren’t built like we are and for what we are. This black woman strength, resilience, patience, endurance and inexplicable magic, cannot be packaged and sold or duplicated.

[everywon-woo]

SOMETIMES PLANES CRASH - chapter 2

A/N: Thank you for reading this fic and for the lovely reactions to the last chapter! it really means a lot and it motivates me to keep writing. I decided to divide this fic into 3 chapters, so there will be one more chapter after this. I have so many ideas for sequels and sidefics, but those might take a while bc I’m a horribly slow writer. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! 

Masterpost

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

When Jack woke up the next morning and stretched his arms to reach for Bitty and pull him close to his – still very naked – body, he was met with warm but empty sheets. Normally, this wouldn’t concern him – Bitty loved to cook breakfast on the rare occasion that they didn’t have to go anywhere in the morning – but considering the events of the evening before, Jack couldn’t help but worry, so he quickly threw on a t-shirt and a pair of boxers before making his way out of the bedroom.

Apparently his worry hadn’t been unjustified, as Bitty was not cooking, but standing in front of his laptop, one hand covering his mouth. Jack could see him shaking on his legs from where he was standing.

Jack’s first instinct was to slam the laptop shut and drag Bitty back to bed to stay there for the rest of the day, but his plan fell apart as soon as he switched his attention from his boyfriend to the laptop screen. There, on the screen, was a copy of the picture Bitty posted on Instagram the day before – which was not the concerning part, they had expected this, and Jack couldn’t deny it was a nice picture – and an article of which Jack could only read the headline.

“Bits? What is this?” Jack asked. Bitty gasped and slammed the laptop shut. He wiped at his eyes quickly before he turned around and tried to do his best to smile believably.

“Gosh, honey, you almost gave me a heart attack!”

“Oh Bits,” Jack sighed and he took a few steps to wrap his arms around his boyfriend. “You have to deal with this because of me, so I’m not going to let you deal with it alone. We’re a team, remember?”

This seemed to be enough for Bitty to let his tears flow, dampening Jack’s t-shirt.

“I’m- I’m sorry, honey,” he sniffled, “it’s just, the stuff these articles say…”

He was now sobbing loudly into Jack’s chest, and Jack pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“Let me read them?” he asked when Bitty calmed down a bit.

Bitty nodded and untangled himself from Jack.

They settled down on the couch, pressed close together with the laptop on Jack’s lap.

 ‘College friend of Jack Zimmermann seeks fame?’

 “Last night, in the aftermath of one of the greatest games of hockey every played by Jack Zimmermann, a video surfaced of the NHL star and another man – most likely one of his college line mates, Eric Bittle – being intimate after the game. Zimmermann is undeniably recognizable in the clip, but the identity of the other man would have remained a mystery if it wasn’t for a picture posted on the Instagram account of the abovementioned Eric Bittle, merely minutes after the original video was leaked.

The picture shows Zimmermann and Bittle in an incriminating position at the public skating rink in Providence. Bittle captioned the picture: “Jack Zimmermann sure knows how to have a first date”. Zimmermann seems unaware of the fact that his picture was being taken, and this raises a lot of questions. Did Zimmermann consent to this picture being posted? Did Bittle post it solely in search of fame?

If the latter was the case, he has definitely succeeded. The picture is being massively shared on social media: ‘The first gay NHL player’ is a story that doesn’t only concern the hockey world, and Bittle has managed to put himself right in the center of the attention, which wouldn’t have been the case if only the original video had been leaked.

Some are even doubting Zimmermann’s consent to the whole situation. They argue that a star like Zimmermann would know better than to be intimate with another man in the Falconer’s facility – as being discovered could potentially ruin his young career – and he might have not been consenting to the actions seen in the leaked video either, on top of the lack of confirmation of any consent to the posting of the Instagram picture.

Although it seems very likely that Zimmermann is a victim in this unfortunate situation, we can only speculate, as there has yet to be an official statement by either Zimmermann or Bittle, which we expect to come very soon.”

 By the time Jack finished reading the article, Bitty was quietly sobbing again.

“Bits,” Bitty looked up to Jack with swollen eyes, “can you text me the pictures that girl took?”

“Uh… of course, honey.”

Bittle didn’t seem to understand where this way going, but sent Jack the photos anyway.

George had set up a verified twitter account for Jack last summer, and despite the popular belief, Jack did know how to use twitter, he just couldn’t be bothered to. Despite his complete absence from social media, he still had a few hundred thousand followers.

Jack decided that the time had come to put those to use, and he typed out a tweet while being stared at by a wide-eyed Bitty. He attached the picture of them kissing the previous night and sent out the tweet for the whole world.

 Jack Zimmermann @OfficialJackZimmermann

My boyfriend (whom I love very much) posted last night’s picture with my full consent. Here’s another one pic.twitter.com/AEj5i6sD90

 He knew he was probably making George’s job even harder, but he didn’t care. Jack could handle bad articles being written about himself. He was used to it, after all.

What he couldn’t handle was shit being said about Bitty, who wouldn’t have been in this situation if it wasn’t for Jack in the first place, and he would do everything in his power to prevent anyone from ever writing a bad word about Bitty again.

Meanwhile, a Bitty was still staring at Jack teary-eyed.

“Well, I did not expect that,” he declared.

“What? Bits, you didn’t think I’d just let them get away with saying stuff like this about you, did you?” Jack asked.

“No, but…” he paused for a moment, “Jack. You just called me your boyfriend and posted a picture of us kissing on your verified twitter account,” he stressed the word ‘verified’ to indicate that they were going to have a talk about that later, “which you apparently know how to use.”

“Yeah,” Jack smiled. Even though this whole situation was pretty much his fault, at that moment, he was pretty proud of himself.

“Jack,” Bitty emphasised, “you know how to use twitter.”

Of course Bitty would choose his unexpected knowledge of social media as the most important part of Jack’s public declaration of love.

“And you have a verified twitter account,” he continued.

Jack nodded, all the anger leaving his body at the sight of Bitty’s growing smile.

Bitty looked up at him in awe. “Gosh, my boyfriend is a celebrity.”

Jack laughed and intended to give him a quick peck on the lips, but apparently Bitty did not agree with that, as he wrapped his arms around Jack’s neck and pulled him down on the sofa with him. Jack did not complain.

 The press conference the next day went surprisingly well. Jack was accompanied by not only Georgia, but also Marty and Thirdy, who had apparently begged George to let them join as soon as they heard about the press conference. The rest of the world probably thought about it as two players with A’s assisting the third one, but Jack knew they were there as his friends rather than his fellow alternate captains, which made him feel slightly better about the fact that Bitty was back at Samwell. No matter how much he needed him, Jack had insisted that Bitty’s education was more important than this stupid press conference.

If Jack called Ransom and Holster to keep an eye on Bitty and fight anyone who even looked at him the wrong way, Bitty didn’t need to know.

Despite Bitty’s absence, Jack managed to stay relatively calm during the press conference. He stated that he was bisexual – which would most likely be ignored by every major sports network – and made sure it was very clear that his relationship with Eric Bittle and any previous relationships – this part was mostly for Kent’s sake – were private and off-limit for the press.

He guaranteed that his sexuality had never affected his play and would never affect his play in the future, which made Marty and Thirdy laugh and Marty exclaimed: “I sure hope it hasn’t affected your play! Imagine if you had even more potential than you’re showing right now! The Falcs could just fire all of us and put only you on the ice, and you’d still win!”

Laughter went through the whole room, but when George leaned towards her microphone, everyone went silent, expecting her to say something serious.

“I think I need to remind you Jack is only a rookie, Marty. Maybe you should start looking for a job in case he hasn’t reached his full potential yet,” she joked.

Jack couldn’t have wished for a better team. Ever since he realized he was not straight, a press conference about his sexuality had been his worst nightmare. But here he was, surrounded by his friends, who had managed to make it seem like this was not a big deal.

Jack didn’t think he could be any more grateful, but when they walked of the stage, out of the press’ sight, after all of them answered a few more questions, he was immediately enveloped in a bone-crushing hug by Shitty.

“Shits, what are you doing here?”

“Lards told me you made Bitty go back to Samwell,” Shitty explained, “and I figured you might need some support.”

He then let Jack go, luckily, because a man needs to breathe every once in a while to stay alive.

“I see that my support is not needed, though,” he added, nodding towards Marty and Thirdy.

“Yeah,” Jack smiled, “they’re nice guys. They wear pants most of the time, though, so it’s not the same.”

“Brah, you just have to call and I’ll be at your door, without pants, within less than 2 hours, I promise,” this got Shitty a weird look from the people within hearing distance, “that’s what BFFs are for.”

“Haha, yeah. Thanks. When do you have to go back to Boston?” Jack asked.

“I don’t have to be back until tomorrow afternoon. But, as much as I’d love to have a good old BFF sleepover at your fancy apartment, we already have other plans.”

Jack raised his eyebrows. “We?”

“Yes, Jack. We,” Shitty nodded. “We are going to have lunch at your apartment – oh don’t act like you have no food, I bet Bitty leaves you more food than you can eat – and I happen to know that you don’t have to be back in Providence until tomorrow afternoon, so-”

“Wait, what?” Jack interrupted. “Shits, I have a game tomorrow. Morning skate isn’t optional.”

“Indeed, it isn’t optional,” Georgia’s voice sounded from behind Jack, and Jack wanted to start apologizing for ruining Shitty’s plans. “Morning skate is not an option for you, Jack. I don’t want to see you on the ice tomorrow morning. Go see your boy.”

Shitty’s face broke into a huge grin, and Jack couldn’t remember a time he had ever been so happy to not be allowed on the ice.

“So,” Shitty continued, “you don’t have to be back until tomorrow afternoon and I don’t have to be in Boston until tomorrow afternoon, which means we are going to visit or favourite significant others at our only true home, the most beautiful frat house on the Samwell campus, also known as the Haus.”

As he was already dragging Jack to the parking lot, Jack had to express his gratitude by shouting “Thanks!” at Marty, Thirdy, and George, who had joined the two men in a conversation that appeared to be funny, judging from their giggling.

The three of them turned around and waved at Jack enthusiastically, despite the fact that he was being dragged away by the man that had loudly promised Jack naked sleepovers less than 5 minutes ago.

“Bye Jack, have fun!” Georgia said, and Jack didn’t know if he should feel uncomfortable about the slight smirk that implied she was very aware of how much Jack was looking forward to being in Bitty’s bed for another night.

“Wait, Jack! Say hi to Bitty for me!” Marty shouted.

“Yeah, and thank him for that pie he made us!” Thirdy added.

Jack had the feeling his teammates liked Bitty more than they liked him, despite not knowing Bitty at all. He didn’t blame them. In the past few years he had learned that Bitty’s pies were a very reliable way to make people like him.

 “Jack,” Shitty started while they ate lunch – lunch that had indeed been left behind by Bitty – at Jack’s apartment, “you know we’re all really proud of you, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” Jack said, “even though I don’t fully understand why. It’s not like coming out was some kind of brave move, I didn’t have a choice.”

Shitty put down his fork, meaning that it was time for a “Jack Zimmermann, you are a fucking beaut and I’m gonna keep lecturing you until you believe it”-speech.

“Dude, I was actually talking about progress and your life in general, but I want you to know that I wholeheartedly disagree with you there. Okay, that video leaking was not your fault, but the way you decided to handle it was entirely your choice. You could’ve denied it. I’ve seen the articles, you could’ve blamed it all on Bitty and the whole hockey world would’ve believed you.”

“I could never-”

“I know,” Shitty interrupted him, “but for that alone you should get more credit that you give yourself. Believe me, everyone is surprised – no offense – at how well you’re both handling this situation. Lardo was so worried about Bits when she heard the news, I’ve never seen her like that. But apparently her worries were kind of unnecessary. That boy sure is amazing. I’m sure Lards would be giving you the “If you hurt him, I’ll break your legs”-talk right now if she didn’t think you were already hiding a ring in one of your drawers.”  

“Well,” Jack looked down at his food and blushed, “not in one of my drawers.”

Shitty choked on his own spit, managed to push over a glass of water and almost fell out of his chair.

“BRAH.”

“I mean, uh…” Jack stuttered, “I might have bought a ring after Bittle left yesterday?”

Shitty’s jaw was on the floor.

“But, I, uh… I- I’m not gonna propose or anything, I know it’s too soon and Bittle’s still in college-”

Before he knew it, Jack was on the floor with a slightly too enthusiastic Shitty on top of him. His chair was somewhere in the mix too, as Shitty had just tackled him in a hug without bothering to think about the uncomfortable position they would end up in.

“Brah,” Shitty repeated, softly and fondly this time, and Jack could feel him smile against his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Jack sighed happily, and he returned his best friend’s hug.

 When they arrived at the house, Shitty couldn’t stop smiling at Bitty. Luckily, he kept his mouth shut, and when Bitty asked what was going on, Jack pretended he had no idea what caused Shitty’s mood.

“He’s probably just really missed your pies,” he said, hoping the mention of pies would make Bitty drop the subject. He wasn’t mistaken.

Chapter 3 

[tasnimkwritersdiary]

GENRE FICTION COMMENTARY

"A short story is a different thing altogether – a short story is like a quick kiss in the dark from a stranger." (King 1985)

In class, we learned that short stories don't need to be super dramatic. They can be about something slight, and that revelation somehow changes things. You can describe it as seeing a story from the corner of your eye, rather than a full picture. 

The four genres we are currently studying within this module are Crime, Horror, Fantasy, Science Fiction, and some sub-genres that fall in between.  

Fantasy is a part of speculative fiction, and elements of fantasy can even be found in early texts such as The Epics of Gilgamesh (Gilgamesh 2100 BC). Common conventions of the fantasy genre include the use of magic and supernaturalism. Fantasy often relies on the reader to suspend their disbelief, and put aside what they know to be ‘real' in order to fully submit to the world of the story.  

Favourites such as Lord of the Rings (Tolkien 1954) are often associated with fantasy, however, contemporary fantasy also includes dystopian literature, which is hugely popular right now. For example, The Hunger Games (Collins 2012) and The Maze Runner series (Dashner 2013) are popular YA fantasy which have achieved commercial success.

There are also many sub-genres of science fiction, such as punk (steampunk, cyberpunk etc.), Hard vs. soft sci-fi, post-apocalyptic fiction, which were outlined in Jim Clark's lecture. Whilst world building can be very technical within this genre, it is important not to use too much jargon or unnecessary information about your world, as it can take away from the readers belief (Novum), e.g. time travel.

Isaac Asimov, the writer of I, Robot, believes that ‘Science fiction can be defined as that branch of literature which deals with the reaction of human beings to changes in science and technology.' (Asimov 1981).

We are learning about horror right now, however, I have written horror before. Some elements of horror stories are a dark mood and atmosphere, exploring the darker side of humanity, unexpected incidents, violence and gore, etc. In addition to this, Gothic horror is often very sensual.

It is important to consider that genres are constantly evolving, and elements of the genres mentioned are constantly in flux. What is popular right now may not be popular in a few years, or on the hand, it could have a cult status like Dracula (Stoker 1897).

The trouble with genre is that it can be restrictive or formulaic for writers whose ideas may not fit neatly within the confines of a certain genre, in which case writers can consider their work as literary fiction. When showing our writing to publishers, it may be off-putting for them if our work isn't easily marketable. 

On the other hand, fitting within a genre can also be useful when categorising a book in a bookshop or online. It is easier for target audiences to find our books if they fit into a genre, but they can equally get lost amongst of other books within that genre.

In her book ‘Writing short stories', Ailsa Cox writes that ‘The short story is a protean form, encompassing infinite variations, and just like the novel, shading into other genres' (Cox 2016).

My short story is about a twenty-five year old man named Saeed, who is being held captive in a small, bare house in an unidentified location. This first-person narrative voice follows the reader through his daily routine of eating, sleeping, writing etc. His compulsive habits frame him as a strange character, but I want the reader to feel sympathetic of him. He describes his parents as mute but menacing, claiming that he would be instantly killed if he ever tried to escape.

My story falls within the crime genre and is a psychological thriller. Writer David Lyons, who recently held a workshop with us regarding psychological thrillers and their current popularity, gave us an insight into some common features of this particular sub-genre. Crime fiction often deals with mystery, suspense, tension etc. Psychological thrillers deal with all of these things too, however, they often focus on the mental state/mind frame of the narrator more so.

I am currently writing the second draft of my short story. Taking into consideration the elements of a short story, I am now working on further developing my characters, theme, setting, conflict, plot, and P.O.V. All of these elements are important in my eyes, but because I'm using an unreliable narrator as the protagonist of my short story, P.O.V. is the most challenging element. I am trying to keep my character believable and relatable, without making him predictable or dull. His strangeness is what causes intrigue, and will hopefully keep the reader wanting to know more about him and his situation.

The conflict begins as an external one, with man vs. man (his parents who he believes are holding him captive), but ends up being an internal conflict all along (man vs. self).

The unreliable female narrator is massively popular right now, with novels such as Gone Girl (Flynn 2013) and Girl on the Train (Hawkins 2015) having major success and even becoming award-winning films. However, Stephen King is arguably the king of psychological thrillers when it comes to literature.

In light of the times up movement, author Stephanie Merritt wrote an article on how the ‘cult' of the unreliable narrator must be stopped. She writes that ‘writing a woman who is off-kilter… might inadvertently reinforce a stereotype of neurotic women, slaves to their biology' (Merritt 2018). Whilst I don't believe that the problem is that severe, I do see a pattern in the unreliable female narrator, and understand how it can feed into the stereotype of the crazy, untrustworthy woman.

With women's experiences with sexual predators being in the limelight right now, is it clever to portray women and their testimonies as untrustworthy? I believe in considering real-life situations in my writing, which is why I decided to use a male unreliable narrator. Rather than having ‘Girl in captive' which sounds more like the titles that are already on the market, I am naming my short story ‘Man in Captive'. 

This was more common in the 90's/00's with books/films such as Fight Club (Palahniuk 1997), and The Talented Mr Ripley (Highsmith 1999), both of which were highly popular. The character of Tyler Durden in Fight Club has some similarities with my character, in the sense that they can both be seen as cynical characters facing the unfamiliar, and the fact that they are both unreliable but this isn't revealed until the end.

The relevance of my short story within this current political and social climate is that it does not add to the masses of books written from an unreliable woman's point of view. In addition to this, it also normalises the idea that men also suffer from mental health problems, and that not all of these illnesses manifest in the same way.

When comparing the novels mentioned about with my short story, they have some similarities. For example, this quote from Fight Club, "Everyone smiles with that invisible gun to their head." (Palahniuk 1997) carries the same sentiment as one of my narrator's lines ‘We're all one bad day away from driving off a cliff'. Pessimistic narrative voices are also common in many psychological thrillers, but not all.

I've also taken the idea of captivity, where in many films and books, girls and women are held captive rather than men. The idea that it is an adult man rather than a child, is again, uncommon. 

In regards to structure and plot, I did a lot of reading and research around short stories and how they differ to structuring or plotting a novel, but this quote by author Isobelle Carmody sums up what most texts explained. 

‘Short stories do not say this happened and this happened and this happened. They are a microcosm and a magnification rather than a linear progression’ (Carmody and McNab 2013).

As evident earlier on in my writer's diary, my initial ideas were too complicated. They had too many characters and too much action. The subtlety and unique nuances that make a short story a genre in its own right, rather than a condensed novel, were being lost beneath huge plot lines and complicated structures.

In order to capture a moment in time, I start my story eight months into the captivity of Saeed. I have two current versions of my story, one written as a diary. I'm not sure which one I will submit yet. 

I also have currently written two endings to my story. In the first ending, there's a frantic knock on the door, and behind the door are his parents, who embrace him. Behind them are the police. He's been missing for eight months and his parents tracked him down through his Amazon account deliveries, where he ordered food and other necessities in bulk before his captivity. It turns out that he had been holding himself captive. He says he doesn't recognise these people posing as his parents, but they show him pictures. He doesn't trust them and lashes out. The short story ends with him in a psychiatric ward. He doesn't understand why this woman who calls herself his mother is crying.

The second ending is more subtle, where he hears a cat meowing outside of his front door. Knowing that his parents would be angry if he touches the door handle, he hesitates. But then he remembers back to his childhood when he used to have a black cat, so he opens the door and steps out. The cat is in the front driveway. He takes his first step out of the house, picks up the cat, and goes back inside. He opens the curtains, opens all of the doors, and it is revealed that there are no parents holding him captive. The story ends there.

I favour the second ending more, however, I am still receiving feedback from my tutors and my writing group.  I agree that ‘A short story must have a single mood and every sentence must build towards it' (Poe 1846), and the second ending aligns with the strange mood of my short story more, rather than the first ones dramatic ending.

I also considered Freytag's pyramid (Freytag 2004). For example, in the second ending, the exposition is setting the scene of a day in the life in captivity for Saeed. The inciting incident and rising action are very subtle, along with the climax, where he hears the cat and opens the door. The falling action is the internal battle between whether he should leave or not. The resolution is open-ended, as we don't know what happens after he opens the door. In a way, the resolution is his decision to open the door.

Looking back, I probably should have decided on whether to write diary extracts or not or which ending to go with, before writing them both. However, writing two versions of my short story, as well as alternative endings has allowed me to experiment more with short story writing, and gain a better appreciation to find just the right balance of everything when writing a short story.

In the current world where twitter fiction, fifty-word stories, even six-word stories are popular, I believe that it is a great time to write a short story. It is something that people can read in a few hours on their day off, or on a very long lunch break. 

I could self-publish my short story on Amazon, or use my social media accounts to share my story with people who are already familiar with my writing. There are publications such as Ambit Magazine and Dark Lane which I could submit my work to, however, many places that take submissions often ask for specific genres or word counts, so I will have to make sure that I fit the criteria. For example, Dark Lane specifies well-written, literary ‘weird' tales, and they dislike blood and gore (Dark Lane 2018).

I will consult with my writer's group and lecturers to figure out which would be the best route for me, however, I am still looking into magazines that take short story submissions. I could even ask to publish the opening of my story in the CovWords magazine, and then post the rest on my blog so people can read it for free. As a novice writer, this may be a good way to receive feedback on my writing from readers before submitting to publications.

REFERENCES

Anthology Submissions (2018) available from <http://darklane.webs.com/anthologysubmissions.htm> [2 March 2018]

Asimov, I. and Zimmerman, R. (1981) Asimov On Science Fiction. Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday

Carmody, I. and McNab, N. (2013) The Wilful Eye. Crows Nest: Allen & Unwin Children’s

Collins, S. (2012) The Hunger Games. New York: Large Print Press

Cox, A. (2016) Writing Short Stories. 2nd edn. Abingdon: Routledge

Dashner, J. (2013) The Maze Runner Files. London: Random House Children’s Books

Freytag, G. (2004) Technique Of The Drama: An Exposition Of Dramatic Composition And Art. 2nd edn. Sacramento: University Press of the Pacific

Flynn, G. (2013) Gone Girl. London: Phoenix

Hawkins, P. (2015) The Girl On The Train. London: Doubleday

Highsmith, P. (1999) The Talented Mr. Ripley. London: Hutchinson

King, S. (1985) Skeleton Crew ; Different Seasons. London: Little, Brown

Merritt, S. (2018) The Cult Of The Unreliable Female Narrator Must Be Stopped | Stephanie Merritt [online] available from <https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2018/feb/19/cult-women-unreliable-narrators-literature-film-feminism> [2 March 2018]

Palahniuk, C. (1997) Fight Club. London: Vintage Books

Poe, E. (1846) The Philosophy Of Composition [online] available from <https://www.eapoe.org/works/essays/philcomp.htm> [2 March 2018]

Sandars, N. (2000) The Epic Of Gilgamesh. London: Penguin Books

Stoker, B. (2014) Dracula. New York: Penguin Books

Tolkien, J. R. R. (1954) The Lord Of The Rings. London: HarperCollins