#effect you have on the planet and on your fellow human beings!!!!! FUCK i love you sam beckett!!!!!!!!!!

[writeyourletters-inthesand]

the moment in an episode of quantum leap where Sam realizes that he's connecting with the people around him, not as the person they think he is, but as himself in his situation and he stops speaking in terms of the person he's leapt into and starts speaking in terms of Sam. what Sam feels, what Sam thinks, how Sam would handle a situation based on his experiences. the moment where he allows himself to be touched by the strangers around him not through the person he's leapt into, but as himself. there's something about a character who spends so much time living other people's lives only to realize that their situation is affecting him, too, and to take that in stride. few stories in modern media are so intrinsically founded in the importance of an open heart and the infallibility of human compassion, and thus Sam Beckett remains one of the greatest characters to come out of television in the past fifty years. in this essay i will

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being an Avenger from outer space

Avengers x reader

warnings:

a/n: this isn’t great but like im down for some avengers hc requests

prompt:

you weren’t exactly accepted on earth the moment you got there

but it wasn’t long before the avengers spotted you

“state your name and your business here” -tony

“wait, stark, just a moment! are you a [alien species]?” -thor

“...my name is y/n, i had nowhere else to go. and yes, i am [alien species]”

i mean, this would be much cooler if the avengers hadn’t already had a bad run-in with the chitauri army

but at least you weren’t trying to destroy any part of earth

“why don’t you come with us for a while? you might be safer in our custody” -cap

you were very uncomfortable with that, but you believed that whatever you were running from couldn’t get you if you stayed with “earth’s mightiest heroes”

and that you were...sort of

the bounty hunters that were on your trail, they didn’t know much about the avengers

so they were dumb enough to strike first

luckily, the avengers took a liking to you

“this is for messing with our new friend!” -tony as he straight up fries one of these goons

you seemed to fight well with them

it made them want to keep you around more than they wanted clint

“having fun, y/n?” -nat

“honestly, yes! i’ve never kicked ass in a group before!”

“i felt the same way on my first mission with these guys” -nat

“wait...is this a mission?”

“well, yeah? what’d you think it was, chess?” -nat

“what? what’s chess?”

oh, my god, this was like thor all over again, it was gonna be great

once the battle was over, they had a question to ask you

but before that...

“did any of you kill the leader?” -you

“which one was the leader?” -sam

“the one with...with the face” *puts clawed hand in front of face for effect*

“thanks, that was really specific” -sam

“you know, he’s got...” *puts fingers near face* “tentacles?”

“you couldn’t say that first?” -tony

“i didn’t know if they were called tentacles here”

okay, that was fair

at that moment the mf hopped out and you pushed clint out of the way so that he didn’t get shot. he said “ow” :( but u were too busy tackling a fellow alien

“you let the rest of those hunters know that they shouldn’t even think about coming after me, are we clear?”

“you’re sparing me?”

“don’t be too flattered, you’re nothing but a messenger to me” *shoots him in the arm*

okay that was a power move

as you kicked this bounty hunter back into his ship, the avengers crew reapproached

“got any plans now that you’ve taken care of your little ‘issue?’” -cap

“you know, i haven’t really thought that far ahead”

“well, if you’re up for it, the avengers would love to have you” -nat

you couldn’t have agreed faster lmaoo

the government didnt like you much

the human population actually wasn’t too fond of you either

but the avengers wouldn’t let anyone touch you

thor made it his own mission to show you all the new stuff that he had discovered on earth

“and these are pop tarts!!” -thor

im talking animals, snacks, music, and more

and dont even get me started on parties

no actually i will

“so, youre from space? list 3 species i’ve never heard of before” -random partygoer

“well, how would you know im not making them up if you’ve never heard them before?”

not much of a comeback for that

you’d only answer questions that weren’t stupid

like “how far away is your home planet?” or “did you have any friends or family?” or “what other planets have you been on?”

and you had a lot of questions too

“what is pizza and where can i get it?”

“you’ve never had pizza? oh, we have to change that” -tony

“what is it though?”

as you went on more missions, you got a better feel for how to work with teammates

especially when they had such different skillsets

“wanda, would you give me a boost?”

“with pleasure!” -wanda

“why didn’t you ask me? i could have flewn you!” -rhodey

“it just feels cooler when wanda launches me, but i’ll let you have your turn later”

“y/n, we should have coffee after this!” -thor

“WHATS THAT?!?!”

you always got excited when offered new things

*muttering* “what the fuck” -you

“OKAY, WHO THE HELL TAUGHT Y/N CURSE WORDS???” -tony

“hm. i wonder” -nat

thor brought you to asgard once

it was pretty. (pretty wild, that is)

“maybe you can take me to your planet one day!”

“i’m pretty sure i’m wanted on my home planet, but i’d love a challenge!”

okay maybe he was ur new bff

“so, y/n, how long is your species’ life span?” -bruce

“im not sure that our measurements of time are exactly translated, but i believe in your time it would be....900 years?”

“oh...may i ask how old you are now?”

“wouldn’t you like to know...”

“...n-no, thats okay”

honestly? sometimes your days were nothing but lazy, so you’d learn about human pop culture

“‘tatooine?’ odd, that’s a planet in my solar system. do you think this ‘george lucas’ is an alien?” -you, lying

*cue the entire fucking team going nuts bc they’re about to believe this conspiracy*

okay but like. you KNEW about thanos. you just never thought he’d be a problem all the way out here

so when the whole thanos situation came to earth you were just kinda like 👉👈 sorry guys, shoulda said smth earlier

“you know who thanos is?” -dr. strange

“...yes. i do. he’s big. really big. and purple. kind of looks like a raisin. oh, yeah, he’s crazy. obsessed with balance.”

“balance? what do you mean by that?” -tony

“like, he likes to kill half of each population for ‘balance,’ you know?”

anyways you went back to space

“so, anything else about thanos we should know?” -tony

“he has 2 adoptive daughters, they’re both badass, i know then personally, he’s from the planet ‘titan,’ last of his kind, aaaand he has an army”

“we have a—wait, no we don’t” -tony

“are there aliens that lay eggs in people? or is that just a stereotype?” -peter

“peter, is it? i heard that you’re taught that there are no stupid questions, but that was a very stupid question”

“...i don’t know if that was a ‘yes’ or ‘no’” -peter

tony asked if you could fly the ship. no.

eventually making your way to titan

which was surreal since it had just been so long since you’d left earth

gotg in the house

“where’s gamora?”//“who’s gamora?” “why’s gamora?”//“you know gamora?” “you know gamora?”//“do you work for thanos?”//“no, i’m here to kill thanos”//“so you’re here to kill gamora?”//“what? no! gamora doesn’t work for thanos anymore, it’s been like 4 years”//“holy shit”

and then thanos popped in and nebula too and she recognized you and it was kinda awk but were just gonna pretend it didn’t happen bc it gets worse <3

u, tony, and nebula got trapped in a ship for like 3 weeks but it was good for catching up

and u met captain marvel and honestly youve just met too many people in the past few weeks u were not vibing

“so, y/n, miss space at all?” -tony

“up until we went back to space, yeah. i’m not leaving this planet ever again”

“we need to find thanos” -bruce

“fuck”

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @lokihiddles // @frostedficrecs // @lotsoffandomrecs // @johnmurphyisbisexual // @teenwaywardasgardian // @pappydaddy // @captainshazamerica // @freya-xo // @ravenmoore14 // @thisetaernallove // @ofthedewthesunlight // @canarypoint // @zoeyserpentluck // @randomawesomeperson102 // @spideyandtheboys // @ghost-bich //

[mst3kproject]

Battle of the Worlds

Several times on this blog I've featured movies that have more than one title.  In almost every case, the new titles were better than the original one, and this is not an exception.  Battle of the Worlds is fairly bland, but it tells you that you're going to be seeing a movie about some kind of space-based conflict, without giving away the details.  The Italian title was Il Pianeta degli Uomini Spenti, which is a fucking spoiler.

An earlier draft of this review contained a couple of jokes about the classically phallic 60's spacecraft in the movie, but I went back and took those out.  Bezos has really set a whole new standard for Giant Dong Rockets and I can no longer accept anything less.

A group of astronomers have just discovered a rogue planet, which they have dubbed the Outsider, is entering our solar system. Everybody is worried about it hitting Earth except for nasty old misanthrope Professor Benson, who says it'll be a near miss.  As it turns out, nobody's exactly right – the Outsider doesn't hit us, but it doesn't just pass by, either.  Instead, it settles into orbit, and when humanity attempts to explore it, it responds by sending out squadrons of flying saucers to blow our rockets out of its sky!  After one of these crashes on Earth, Benson is able to learn how to deactivate the Outsider’s defences and land on it, where humanity can finally confront its inhabitants... or can we?

Well, if you speak Italian, you already know the answer, because this is The Planet of Extinguished Men. The aliens are all long dead and their spaceship has been following its programming for millions of years without them, including the part telling it to destroy the Earth.  Bummer.

I actually have quite a bit to say about this movie.  It centres around some interesting musings about human emotion and curiosity, though it never comes to any solid conclusions.  As a movie, unfortunately, it's not very well-made.  This is a story in which the world as we know it nearly comes to an end more than once, and yet very little seems to happen in it.

The opening sequence is terribly clumsy and does very little to place you within this world.  We start off with two characters kissing and being excited about starting a new life together, but we have no idea at this point who they are or why they want to leave this place. When the Outsider is discovered, the scientists beat around the bush and try to keep it a secret, even from the audience.  Only Benson is willing to be upfront about it.  This does establish him as a realist while making his colleagues seem spineless, which is what the movie wants, but it's also terribly frustrating for the viewer.

Later there's a sequence in which a craft attempting to land on Mars is nearly destroyed by the gravity of the Outsider, and some quick thinking saves the astronauts' lives, but this is directed like the battle sequences in Invasion of the Neptune Men. We have no idea where any of these craft or planets are in relation to one another, and have to rely on characters sitting at desks to tell us what's happening.  Even worse, we never see the chaos the looming end of the world wreaks on society.  Astronauts who have recently returned to Earth note that they've heard there have been suicides and riots as people fear the Outsider will impact our planet, but we never see any of this.

The movie does a little better later, when the Outsider's close approach causes disastrous tidal forces... these are represented by black and white footage of floods and volcanic eruptions tinted red to try to make it match the rest of the colour film.  As always, this fails, but at least they tried. Other special effects are equally pathetic.  There are the inevitable plastic model kit rockets with their flame exhaust that rises in what's supposed to be a zero-gravity vacuum.  The 'flying saucers' the Outsider launches to defend itself look like nothing so much as giant fried eggs.

The Outsider itself is particularly sad to look at.  They have a model they use for it in a few shots, but this is about on a par with the original MST3K spaghetti ball.  In other shots, the Outsider is represented by a photograph of the Moon.  Absolutely no attempt is made to disguise it, and so of course the effect is a dismal failure because everybody knows what the goddamn Moon looks like. They couldn't even, I don't know, turn it upside-down or something?

On the other hand, the inside of the Outsider is actually pretty cool.  The sets aren't exactly believable, but you can see what they were going for.  Upon entering the caverns, the explorers find themselves in a series of tunnels full of strange red tubes and textures that look more organic than geological. Entering the Outsider is like wandering around within a living organism.  My favourite part of this is that absolutely nothing we see here is comprehensible.  Professor Benson, the genius, claims to be able to figure out what's going on, but his declarations seem arbitrary and nothing we're looking at makes visual sense.  Even the aliens don't look like anything in particular.  Were it not for Benson, we would not recognize them as living (or dead) creatures.

Like First Spaceship on Venus, Battle of the Worlds is much more interested in its ideas than in anything else, including what is supposedly its plot.  The characters are important mostly as the embodiment of those ideas, rather than as people in themselves, and the ideas the movie wants to study are about logic and emotion and how they affect human priorities.

The character of Dr. Fred Steele finds himself facing the potential end of the world, and decides that the most important thing to him in this situation is the love between him and his fiancee, Eve Barnett. Professor Benson, on the other hand, thinks the most important thing is to understand the threat they're facing.  Partly this is so that humanity can save itself from destruction, but knowledge for its own sake is also important.  In between these two men is Eve herself, who thinks love and science are both important and tries to find some middle ground between the two.  This is difficult for her, because Benson wants her to stay at the observatory and assist him, while Fred wants her to leave with him so they can get married.  When Eve tries to convince Fred to stay with her, both men see this as her having chosen Benson, and it poisons the relationships between all three parties.  Only with Benson dead are Eve and Fred able to strike a balance again.

But the movie doesn't want us to think that there is no middle ground.  The movie's other romantic couple are the two scientists from the Mars Base, Bob and Cathy.  They got married because they were both lonely and a psychological evaluation suggested that they had compatible personalities.  As the story progresses, however, they find that they have indeed fallen in love and want a future together that would include things like children – but this is ultimately denied to them, as Cathy is crushed by falling debris while exploring the Outsider.

Benson dies when insists on staying aboard the Outsider to try to decode its computers despite the fact that the military is about to destroy the entire object.  As the others escape, Fred intones the movie's beauty killed the beast line: “poor Benson, if they opened his chest they'd find a formula where his heart should be.”  And yet Benson died happy – as the Outsider explodes he is triumphant in his ability to understand its secrets, and laughing at the foolishness and cowardice of his fellow man.  It is the survivors who are miserable, mourning the loss of Benson himself as well as of Cathy, whose death was entirely meaningless.

I'm not sure what the movie is trying to tell us about these different approaches to life.  It seems to present them as ultimately incompatible, that attempts to give logic and emotion equal weight can only end in tears.  Only Benson, who was unswerving in his devotion to science, is ultimately satisfied. Perhaps the take-home message is that whatever your principles are, happiness lies in following them to their conclusion.

There's a second message, too, in different approaches to science itself. Modern physicists will often describe themselves as either theoretical or experimental... the two fields do compliment each other, but they often take place in different rooms, and one will be seen as leading the way for the other.  The search for the Higgs Boson was theory-led: people were pretty sure it existed, they just had to find it.  A great deal of astrophysics, however, is result-led: what we see tells us that there are things going on, like dark matter and dark energy, that we know nothing about, and the theorists must do their best to figure it out.

For most of his life, Benson has been a theorist.  He sits in his greenhouse chalking on the floors, spinning theories out of other people's results or out of pure mathematics.  Until the arrival of the Outsider, he had no interest in going out and exploring or experimenting.  But it quickly becomes clear to him that he cannot understand the Outsider through pure theory, as his calculations cannot account for the decisions of its makers.  In order to know it, he must see it for himself, so he grandly announces his intention to leave his 'den'.  Nobody ever asks him if it was worth it, but his maniacal smile at the moment of his death suggests that it was.

Battle of the Worlds had potential to be a really interesting movie, but ultimate the way its shot and edited make it mainly a very dull one.  Like its own characters, it fails to find the balance it needed.

[zahsexytoots]

I know I never actually post personal stuff on social media, but some things just hit too close to home to not share. To not be absolutly angry about.

⚠️ Long and sensitive content ahead. ⚠️

Things have been terrible, and I dont mean just lately. I've seen it from as early as my elementary years living in St. Louis. Black people are seen differently, and it wasn't until I moved out after highschool and lived in a whole new state, 2000 miles away, did I realize: this manner of thinking was wide spread. And it only got worse as I grew into adulthood.. I heard part of my ex's family using the N word as if it was alright, bc "that's how they grew up, that's what they were called around here." And when I voiced how wrong it was, how uncomfortable it made me to know the people I had begun to pull in as my chosen family thought in such a disgusting way towards people of color, I was in the wrong. I was just "that city girl" who became a bitch for challenging them when they would start of "I'm not racist, but" or "I love black people, but".

I can't do anything about the past but at this point, in this time of the world, in the year twenty fucking twenty-one, if in the very least you dont understand that just bc someone else's cause or pain doesn't personally effect your life, DOES NOT MEAN IT IS NOT VALID, then maybe you should start with having a talk with someone of color. Period.Thanks to the internet and wide spread information, we can now understand other people all over the planet on a far deeper level than merely 30 years ago. 30! In my own life time, I've been able to experience hundreds, thousands, of other lives just by listening or reading or watching. And others have been able to hear mine. From the hate I've received bc I'm a victim of child grooming and abuse, bc I am Queer, bc I was a woman in management, bc I love and respect my partner of color. These same things happen to ALL humans, and the same empathy can heal and comfort ALL. Just because you, as a white person, can't understand why they knelt for the anthem, why we believe ACAB, why we say All Men, why Asian hate is spreading, etc, does not mean you have to immediately deny or become defensive that its an attack on you and yours. PEOPLE ARE SUFFERING and plugging your ears to their cries for help, to their stories, to their anger, only builds more distance and animosity between us. Now more than ever we need to come together as a people. We have children fighting our battles, for race, for climate change, for child poverty, for homelessness, and if you're mad about that, DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT instead of criticizing. Bc criticizing children or young adults who are trying to better this world by calling out its wrongs, only shows you are part of the narrative. Maybe look inward and question YOURSELF why you feel the way you do towards these things occurring around you and your family and friends. Why a cause that is trying to do better for others makes YOU so hostile. Bc when a group of people say "this" or "that" is happening, who are you to say they are wrong just bc you don't have the same experience.

Here's the cool thing: people are willing to educate you if you don't understand. It's the effort you take to change YOURSELF that will help change those around you. If you're white, use the privilege you have to protect your fellow humans. Donate. Protest. Vote. Stand beside that poc who is getting ticketed for a late parking meter, bc even if it starts off with a "simple reason" or even a justified reason, that could change with a single word or complaint from the person being ticketed. Cops are not judge, jury, and executioner. But they sure fucking act like it. And if you resist this type of support bc you're afraid you'll get caught up in the cross fire, then guess what? You're part of the problem. Why is your life more valuable than theirs? Bc of stereotypes that you grew up with? Challenge that! Change! The world has changed so much, but we are still all one people. If YOU are too scared to stand up for others, then for fucks sake don't go crying and screaming when there is no one left stand to stand up for you.

I stand for all lgbtqia+, for blm, for Asian lives, for police reform, for equal pay, equal rights, Healthcare for all, for abuse and addiction victims, for LOVE OVER HATE.

IF YOU WANT TO SEE CHANGE, BE THE CHANGE YOU WISH TO SEE.

[another-stark-sub]

Interruption - Tony Stark Imagine

Summary: You interrupt your fiance’s research, and Tony loves you for it. Natasha just had to call him in the middle of it all.

Warnings: no actual sex, more fluff than smut really, mentions of bondage, little bit of exhibitionism

Word Count: 2044

Being Tony’s fiancee came with weird moments. First off, he was the Iron Man, one of the legendary Avengers who saved the world, and sometimes the universe, on a weekly or monthly basis. So, you had your fair share of poisonous experiments locked in the house or random robots appearing. And you wish you were lying when you said one time you found a rock alien Tony forgot to tell you he was housing in the kitchen. 

However, what was before you was still weird. Not superhero weird, just weird, and very out of character.

Your fiance had been holed up in the lab for more than many hours. You let the first ten hours slide, but when sunrise was approaching, you had decided it was time for some sleep. 

And when you were at the lab’s doorway, you saw Tony talking to one of his suits. Not too weird. That was a common thing to see in the Stark household. But, what was odd was that Tony was on his knees, on one of the throw pillows that had gone missing months ago, and his hands were tied in an intricate knot.

 “Ok, now pull that,” Tony instructed.

The suit pulled. 

“Harder.”

It pulled Tony forward enough that if he moved a little bit, he’d definitely fall, face flat on the ground. Tony hummed and said, “Now, wipe the knot’s instructions from memory and try to untie it. Friday, time it, please.”

“Yes, boss.”

Baffled, you called out, “Tony?”

He turned to you and smiled. “Hey, honey. Just lemme get out of this, and I’ll be in bed soon.”

You scoffed. “You can’t kick me out of here, not when I’ve seen that.” You crossed your arms and sighed. “Uh, what is this, anyway?”

Tony opened his mouth just as Friday interrupted, “Twenty-three and a fourth.”

Tony inhaled through his teeth. “Ok, considering human error, twenty-eight, nine-ish seconds. Add it to the list, Friday. I’ll work on it later. Note that scissors might need to be used.”

You blinked a few times. “Would it be dumb of me to ask what you’re working on?”

His attention was back on you, and with a warm smile, he approached you and held your hands. “Never dumb.” He kissed your forehead and caressed your cheek before explaining, “I’ve been trying to see what knots we could use next time, but I don’t think I like any of the ones I’ve found.”

“Knots?” You laughed a little. “Like during sex, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“And what are you testing?” You didn’t really have a preference, honestly. You were just fond of bondage. Did Tony just prefer some ways to tie you up?

“Different things. Oh!” Tony let go of your hands and held them up above his head. “Friday, take a picture and record it under effects.”

“Done and filed away.”

“Thank you.”

You gasped and took his hands in yours again. Examining his wrists, yellow-ish purple bruises were already forming from the rope. “Your wrists.” You sighed. “Shouldn’t you be keeping these things safe, for superhero-ing and inventing? Not for BDSM trials?”

“Well, I need to make sure it doesn’t cause you too much pain.”

Just like that, your heart swelled. “You’re testing different knots for, well, for me?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Gotta make sure that my girl’s gonna be ok when I fuck her senseless, right?” With a swipe of his hand, the other still holding yours, a hologram popped up in front of you two. It resembled an excel spreadsheet. A name, a picture of the knot, description, time to tie, time to untie, both adjusted for human error, a picture of Tony’s various bruises from it. “See, I need to make sure I can tie it, that I can untie it if we don’t like it, see how much it hurts you or not.”

He kept babbling on, saying how it was important for him to know how it feels and to make sure you were safe, but you only heard part of it. You heard enough of it, because damn, your fiance was never more sexy in your eyes. And not only was he doing this for your safety and pleasure, but he was also doing it because your safety made him happy. 

How were you so lucky? A wonderful man, a genius, a hero was your fiance. He shared your kinks, respected the rules you two agreed upon, and went out of his way to make sure that the things that restrained you in the bedroom were things that wouldn’t hurt you when you didn’t want it to.

So, in the middle of his rant, something about the technicalities of it all, you grabbed his face and kissed him. 

Tony pulled away from you, his forehead still resting on yours. “Not that I’m objecting, but what?”

You laughed. “Cause you’re too good for me, and I think” -you bit your lip- “you deserve some sort of gift for that.” Before he could object or argue or say you were too good for him, you pulled him closer to you and kissed him, softer and sweeter, and when his hands finally held your hips, you hummed and asked, “Bedroom?” Plus, after some laborious exercise, he might sleep at a semi-appropriate hour.

“What’s wrong with here, sweetheart?” He mumbled against your lips. He kissed you again, his hands roaming down to squeeze your ass before lifting you up and wrapping your thighs around his waist. 

Just as he set you down on one of the lab tables, Friday’s voice pierced the air, “Ms. Romanoff is-”

“Put her on hold,” he told him. Tony moved to kiss your neck, and you moaned. You tangled your fingers in his hair, already drowning in the feeling of his lips on your skin and his body between your legs.

“She insists that it’s urgent.”

Tony didn’t say anything. He just smiled at you and kissed you. 

Natasha was calling him, insisting it was urgent. It must’ve been important. “Tony,” you mumbled.

“Yeah?” He went back to litter kisses on your neck and collarbone. Your button-up shirt was already being undone, and the part of you wanted to push him away so he could take that call was silenced. His lips were insistent and that nonchalant attitude was intoxicating. Plus there was a heat building in you, and if you stopped now you’d be dissatisfied. You didn’t want that. 

“Ms. Romanoff says she has Vision with her, and she will disable me if you don’t patch her through.”

Tony paused. He gazed up at you, in awe of how flushed you were just from a few of his kisses. 

You had to blink a few times, too focused on Tony’s chest moving up and down, so out of breath from kissing you and touching you. His hair was messy from your tugging and gripping, a few strands falling onto his forehead. Subtly, his hips went from lightly touching you to pressing up against you. 

Shaking your head and closing your eyes, you said, “Take the call.” You took a deep breath and reached for your shirt, but Tony stopped you. He smiled and leaned in close before pressing a kiss against your lips. “Stay.”

“Tony-”

He shook his head. “Stay.” He kissed you again and continued to unbutton your shirt until it was all undone. “Friday,” he said between kisses, “patch her through, videochat.”

Shocked, you pushed him away from you, just enough so his lips weren’t sealed against yours. “Tony, what-”

He silenced you with another kiss. His hand went to your thigh, caressing it and hooking it around his waist so he could grind his hard-on into you. 

“Tony.” Natasha’s voice came through, void of any emotion.

Tony pulled away from you. With a smile, he swiped thumb past your bottom lip, admiring how swollen they were.

You heard Natasha’s voice, you did, but with Tony in front of you with that damn smirk of his and his thumb gently grazing over your lip, you had no intention of listening to her. It was too hard to listen to her. Too drunk on him and his touch and too tired of holding yourself back, once his touch left your lips, you surged forward, aiming for a kiss.

Tony gave him, kissing you once before telling his teammate, “A bit busy here, Red.” Your fiance pressed his lips against yours and moaned loudly. Whether it was because he was that pleased by you or because he wanted to piss Natasha off, you didn’t care. You just pulled him closer, desperate to keep kissing him.

“You need to come in. We’re in need of your expertise, and Shuri’s out on another assignment.”

“Banner,” Tony mumbled against you.

“Off planet.”

As he moved to kiss your neck again, he said, “Kid’s smart.”

“On vacation.”

“Keener.” Finally, his hand came up to squeeze your tits over your bra.

“Tony!” you moaned.

Natasha rolled her eyes. It wasn’t the first time she had to witness the two of you like this. “Harley’s currently taking a three-hour exam.”

He growled. More frustrated at his fellow geniuses than you. Because, god, you looked divine. He pulled your bra down and latched his lips onto your nipple and sucked. 

You threw your head back, trying to catch your breath, and whined.

“Tony, you think I’d interrupt the two of you if it wasn’t important? Riri and Shuri and both out on missions, and Vision hasn’t been able to do it.” Natasha groaned. Her eye twitched, and she pulled a card she rarely pulled. “So, has your fiancee seen the previous versions of her ring yet?”

You squinted at the screen, half your attention still on the pleasure Tony was giving you. “What, ah, previous versions?” You smiled, dazed.

Tony groaned against your chest. “Baby,” he whined. He nipped at your nipple, and although he got a gasp from you, you still were thinking about your ring. The one he proposed with was your dream, not too gaudy, not too simple either, and crafted and designed by Tony, but there were previous versions?

You smiled at Tony and, even though you still craved his touch and the heat of his love, your daydreams of Tony working his ass off to build a perfect ring turned to reason, and reason won out. With a soft giggle, you reached out for your fiance. The poor thing had rested his chin on your chest, pouting. 

“You’ve got a job, Tone.”

“So?”

You buttoned up your shirt. 

“What? No, please,” he whined, reaching for your hands. 

You slapped him away and finished the last button. “Don’t worry.” You jumped off the lab table and kissed his cheek. “We will resume later. I need to thank you for being so good to me after all.” You nodded to the suit in the corner. “Go.”

Tony sighed. He readjusted his pants and kissed you quickly. “Love you.” He turned to the monitor. “Hate you.” And just like that, he was suiting up.

Natasha laughed. “Ah, my life’s complete. Sending you coordinates.”

“Will do.” He stopped his mask from covering his face to say to you, “Wait for me?”

“No promises.”

He smiled. “Good.” With a wink, his mask came on, the exit from the lab to the outside opened, and he was off.

You turned to the monitor and crossed your arms. “I expect to see whatever previous designs he showed you.”

“Will do.” The agent sighed. “Would it be too much to ask to have you two act professionally sometimes?”

You shrugged. “Me, not much at all.” You laughed. “It’s Tony you gotta convince.”

Natasha tilted her head. “I’m pretty sure you’d be hard to convince, too.”

You shrugged. “What can I say? I am Tony’s girl after all.” You flashed her a smile before hanging up. With a thoughtful hum, you said, “Friday, send a message to Tony for me, please. Tell him” -that familiar heat you ignored was steadily coming back- “that I’m starting without him.”

“He wouldn’t like that.”

You were practically bounding up the stairs to your bedroom, some toys you could use already in mind. “Planning on it.” 

“Ah, I see. Message sent.”

“Thank you, Friday!”

[yakumtsaki]

I taste just like ice cream, bitch I am so icy, heart cold like an ice queen, that's why they don't like me 🎵

-What the hell was that.

Traditionally I start Union updates with semi-relevant song lyrics.

-Why did you start an update at all.

Because it’s time, Shajar! I took a holy oath in my 2020 simming goals post to update Unions once a month, and I’m already a month late.

-But nothing interesting is happening. 

That’s never stopped me before. Now listen to Rico Nasty, cry some more about Sophie blowing you off, and shut up.

-Ugh please, I couldn’t be more over Sonia if I tried. I hardly ever texted her links to wedding pinterest boards and quizzes to determine if our parenting styles are compatible. 

Did she ever reply? 

-She did once and said ‘who dis’. Of course the letters unscrambled spell out ‘do wish’, meaning she did wish me to keep messaging her. I just don’t know where it all went wrong. 

-Hey there, 17 year old girl, maybe you’ve had enough neat whiskey for the night? We’re actually running out of bottles. 

-Beat it, ponytail, I need to dull my pain. I’ve just been stabbed right in the gut by the love of my life. Just like my style idol and general role model, space opera fascist Kylo Ren.

Shaj I really hate seeing you like this, and not just because the red neon light is super unflattering on your complexion.

-You can fuck right off too, I was perfectly happy with my dads who hate me and my imbecile sister and my brother who might as well not exist, noogie-ing people all day AND night long, but you had to be all ‘OMG IT’S SOPHIE MIGUEL SHAJAR GO TALK TO HER’. Life-ruining-moron. 

But I was totally right about you two hitting it off, I mean look how sad you are now that she dumped- yea never mind, that’s not a good argument.

-Look what I can do even though I’ve had 46 whiskeys!! How you like me now, Sophie???

-You’re paying for all these broken glasses, I’m going to need your name and a credit card.

-Yes, fair enough, my name is Cyneswith Union-

-I LOOK GOOD ENOUGH TO EAT

Yea, you really should eat something to soak up all the alcohol. And not to kick you when you’re down, but you should also disregard all those cliches about ~a smile being the most beautiful thing you can wear~ because MAN. Watch out Joaquin, there’s a new Joker on the prowl. 

-So.. 20 lobsters thermidor and our most expensive appetizers?

-Aha.

-Would you mind settling your bill now?

-Of course not! My name is Cyneswith Union and this is the credit card my parents got me when I was 6 because we’re super duper best friends! I love my parents! They don’t care about their other daughter at all, even when their other daughter is going through a really hard time because she got the emotional equivalent of a lightsaber wound in the gut. You know what, let me also get 20 bottles of your most overpriced champagne to go with the lobsters.

Feeling better?

-Well it’s hard to feel bad when you’re spending your parents’ money recklessly and with malice aforethought.

It sure is. Alright well, the sun is coming up, maybe we should head home.

-What’s the rush? What is going to happen if I don’t go home, my parents will get worried? LOL

God your life sucks. Ok let’s hit a couple more places.

-Greetings. Welcome to our establishment. I am a human employee from this planet.

Great, nice to meet you.

-I just want there to be no doubt that I am indeed an earthling, born and raised under the earth’s exosphere and not above it.

Leave us alone.

-And I’m the resident community lot sim with that one face template you hate! There must be one of us on every lot you visit!

-And I am here in my revealing outfit to use the dance sphere and make everyone uncomfortable!

You’re actually pretty, I need to keep you in mind for after Don Oates takes a wrecking ball to our genetics, but yea, let’s bounce, Shajar.

Time to visit the happiest place on earth, Deh'Javu Modern Art Museum, home to my favorite piece of art in any medium, The Toilet of Fire. Shove that Fountain up your ass, Duchamp. How we feeling, Shaj?

-This trash can reminds of Sophie :( She used to go around town throwing money she stole from charities in trash cans and then send them riddles for where to find them :(

Enough with Sophie, we’ll find you someone better! Like..

..your aunt! Get the hell out of here Brit Brit, you’re taking up townie space. 

-I won’t be long, Gunther’s amazing close-up portrait of my hair was rejected by the museum so I’m here to set this shithole on fire. 

In other words Gunther just painted a canvas black and called it a day?

-His art doesn’t cater to plebs. Yes, offense.

Our old friend Ugly Teen Townie is here so finally we can have some fun. Shajar had gone almost 12 hours(!) without noogieing someone and I was starting to worry for her health.

-Yes, yes, I’m starting to feel like myself again..

Good for you, Shaj!

-Hope you’ve made peace with your God, Ugly Teen Townie, this water balloon is filled with horse feces! 

-WHERE DID YOU EVEN GET HORSE SHIT

-I ordered it from some guy named Leod McGreggor.

-How about a another joke, MuRRAY?

-What?!

-Now you say, ‘no, I think we’ve had enough of your jokes’. Say it!

-No, I think we’ve had enough of your jokes.

-What do you get when you cross a mentally-ill loner with a society that abandons him and treats him like trash? Now you say ‘call the police, Gene!’

-Call the police, Gene!

-I'll tell you what you get..

-YOU GET WHAT YOU FUCKING DESERVE. HAHA oh man! Good stuff. 

Alright I’m starting to feel bad for Ugly Teen Townie, first he had to come to all the toddler birthday parties during the Victoria/Komei era and now this, he has suffered enough at this family’s hands. Time to go home, Shaj.

-Not so fast!

Wow, the Countess and Mrs. Crumplebottom on the same lot, top 10 anime crossovers.

-I have been sent here by the Limp Dick Vamps United organization to recruit Shajar Union.

Ugh you people are still around? Haven’t heard of you losers since the Count wouldn’t let Victoria bang him, which I’m still annoyed about. 

-Indeed we are, and it’s clear Shajar is ready to join us, dedicating her life to evil deeds without romantic distractions. I have no idea what Crumplebottom is doing here.

-I’m here to recruit Shajar to my own organization, Bitter Sims Worldwide Alliance. We’re always on the lookout for new members who want to spread their misery to their fellow Sim. 

It sounds like it’d be more effective if you guys just merged your organizations.

-I will NEVER merge my organization with someone who displays her bosom like a common whore. 

-Eat a dick, Crumplebottom!

-MAKE ME, FANGTOOTH

-Alright here I am, what the fuck do you want?

-Shajar, it is a pleasure to meet you! Ardent admirer of your work.

-What work, freakshow?

-Torturing everyone around you, what else!

-What? I don’t torture people around me, if anything they torture me.

-Why don’t you talk to me about it?

-I’d rather not, you look like a bejeweled snowman.

-Look deep into my eyes, Shajar..

-And now look deep into my razor sharp teeth..

-Ugh fine, let’s talk. 

-Is that Victoria and Komei’s teen granddaughter hanging out with a vampire?

Yes it is Kennedy, keep it moving.

-God, wtf is wrong with this family. 

Nothing now that you’ve been removed from our social circle, go away! Just kidding, you’re an icon and I’m marrying you in at some point. 

-Hard pass. 

Your loss, hombre. 

-It definitely isn’t.

-If I had known your turn on was vampires I would had set you two up!

STOP SETTING UP TEENS WITH ADULTS, LAKSHMI. And Shajar’s turn ons isn’t vampires, it’s fitness/fatness. Body positive queen. 

-Well, Shajar, you alphabetically listing all the people who have wronged you while I was trying to kill Crumplebottom telepathically has made for a very productive conversation. We’ll be in touch. 

-Thanks, Countess, it’s been real.

Shajar!!! Who cares about Sophie when you might bag a hot, rich vamp??

-Meh.

I’m gonna need you to be more excited about this prospect because a vampire spouse might just be enough of a draw to beat the comedic factor of fucking Don Oates turning us into an unintentional uglacy and I’m doing whatever I can to avoid my fate.

Ugh.

UGH

UGHHHHHHH

LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOO VICTORIA

-GET FUCKED, BROKEN FACED WEIRDO

God I miss you Vic 💔

-Donnie-bear, not to be not-nice, but mopping your pee off my front lawn is not exactly what I pictured doing during this date.

This guy won’t even mop up his own piss, what a catch.

Wow, manipulative much?? You are a piss piece of work, Donaldo.

-Don’t think we forgot about you, you 10-nice-point disgrace!

-VICTOR NO

-GET THAT MOP READY

-Finally, some peace and quiet.. Just me, alone with my broken heart, pondering my hopeless, loveless future..

-💗💗💗OMG SIS THERE YOU ARE. DONNIE AND I MADE OUT!!! 💗💗💗 But then grandma’s ghost scared him into soiling himself. 

-Good for grandma, hopefully next time she gives him a stroke. Now shut up and let’s eat in silence while I ponder my hopeless, loveless future.

-Okie dokie! 💗💗💗

-Um, I think mine has vomit in it.

-Yea I did that, but it’s just whiskey and lobster, if anything it increased in value. 

-Awww thanks sis! 💗💗💗

-Stop patronizing me, you little bitch. God I want to poke your eye out with this chopstick so badly.

-I love you too Shaj! 💗💗💗

And I hate both of you. Where’s your brother, I haven’t paid attention to him in 3 days. 

-He went upstairs, I think he’s pusshurt we forgot his birthday LOL

IT’S HIS BIRTHDAY????

-Don’t feel bad, I forgot it too! 💗💗💗

GODDAMMIT. WULF! WULF WHERE ARE YOU

-I’m here, I just grew up and dare I say it could not have gone better! 

Really?? Finally some good news! Let me look upon you-

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA

WULF WHAT THE FUCK

-I was Mozart musical genius boy but now I’m a sk8ter boi! Character development!

Ok this is the most iconic birthday look since Gunther grew up in the pirate costume, we’re obviously keeping it. 

-Great! And as if the fact I’m a Wyatt face template with 0 Jojo genes wasn’t enough to make me unelectable, I also rolled family! :D I’m doing everything I can to ensure I live that sweet motherlode spare life! 

Honestly you should had picked another outfit cause now that you’re dressed like this I unironically want you to win. Hoisted with your own petard.

[returnn-of-the-mac]

I love the way you write the companions! Especially X6! Companions react to Sole giving them nicknames based on pre-war movies?

Thank you! X6 is one of my favorite characters to write (along with Ada and Danse)! Sorry this took so long, there were a few characters I struggled with (looking @u gage & preston). Also, again, I usually write a silent Sole, but I couldn’t for this one, obviously. Please enjoy!😄

Fo4 Companions React: Sole Giving Them Pre-War Movie Nicknames

Strong:

Strong and Sole where walking around Sanctuary when the super mutant heard rustling in the bushes.

“COME OUT, PUNY RADROACH! STRONG SMASH YOU INTO THE GROUND!”

Sole smirked, “Easy there, Hulk. It’s just Dogmeat.”

Strong scratched his head, “Who Hulk? He a Radroach?”

Danse:

Sole was in Danse’s quarters as the Paladin was trying on some new patriotic power armor he had designed. He stepped out in his red, white, and blue mechanical suit and twisted around a bit to show Sole.

“What do you think,” He asked, “Is it too much?”

Sole giggled, “You kinda look like Optimus Prime.”

“You mean Liberty Prime?”

“Nope. I mean Optimus Prime. He’s a Cybertronian from a pre-war movie called Transformers.” Sole explained.

“Cybertron? Is that like a synth,” Danse scoffed, “Cuz I’d be damned if I looked like a synth.”

“Well, no. Cybertron is the planet they’re from. It’s complicated, but it’s basically a fictional species of robots that can transform from ordinary objects. Like cars.”

A confused Danse gave his companion an acknowledging nod, “Ah, okay. That actually sounds pretty interesting. Maybe the Brotherhood could start crafting armor based off of these ...uh...’Cybertronians.’ You’re going to have to show me sometime, soldier.”

Nick:

“Hmm...” Nick pondered, looking over his latest case, “This Marowski fellow seems to be up to no good, yet again. His chem lab is more secure this time too...I’m thinking we’re going to have to tinker around with some scrap and invent a device to break into there undetected.”

“And what do you suggest we create, Inspector Gadget?”

Nick rolled his eyes. “Ha ha. Very funny. I happen to who that is, you know.”

MacCready:

MacCready and Sole where camping out at Outpost Zimonja for the night, lying under the stars, next to a campfire.

“You know what stinks,” Macready began, “Being an adult. So much is expected of you, and all the other adults are all just a buncha bullies.”

Sole gazed at their companion and he continued, “I swear, the kids at Little Lamplight were more mature than at least half the mungos in the Commonwealth. I wish I’d never had grown up...I wish I could’ve stayed a kid forever.”

“Okay, Peter Pan,” Sole laughed, “Growing up is a part of life. Everyone goes through it. Society wouldn’t thrive if people didn’t get older.”

MacCready was still caught up on the first part of Sole’s statement. “Peter...who? Who’s that?”

“Peter Pan. He was a mythical boy who never grew up, and he lead a group called The Lost Boys in Neverland. They’d go on adventures and stuff. It was a story that got adapted into a popular pre-war movie,” Sole explained.

MacCready was captivated by the description. “That seems...awesome, actually! Can you tell me more about it?”

Ada:

Sole and Ada were trekking through the wilderness just beyond the glowing sea when a RadStrorm hit. Adamant about making it to their destination, Sole continued to their journey, despite the wind, rain, and rads.

“[Sir/Ma’am],” Ada beckoned, “Being that I am non-organic, these rads don’t have an effect on me. You, however, might get sick if we continue.”

Sole ignored Ada and continued to press forward. Ada tried again.

“[Sir/Ma’am]? It is highly likely that you will not be able to successfully complete your mission if you were to fall ill.”

Sole, once again, ignored their companion and continued forward. Ada, ardent about keeping her companion healthy, tried a third time.

“[Sir/Ma’am]? I believe I saw an abandoned barn a few miles back. We could camp there for the night.”

Sole stopped and gave Ada a stern look. “C-3PO. Please. Be quiet for just a minute. I can’t even hear myself think.”

Ada beeped a few times. “I am unfamiliar who this model C-3-P-O is. My model number A-D-4.”

Piper:

“Okay, look. I think we’re really gonna get him this time, Blue,” Piper began, peeking through her binoculars at an unsuspecting Mayor McDonough, “Oh! Oh! Look! He put the toilet paper on the holder flap-side-up. Mm-hmm. Definitely a synth.”

Sole raised an eyebrow, “And what’s your master plan here? We gonna break in there and catch him in the act of changing his toilet paper, Lucy Stevens? Kinda not a good look.”

Piper cocked her head to the side, “Lucy...Stevens? Who’s that?”

Sole giggled, “She’s a reporter from one of my favorite pre-war movies.”

Piper smirked, “And what movie would that be?”

“Detective Pikachu.”

Gage:

Sole and Gage were building a raider base when suddenly Gage stopped hammering.

“Hey, got any more nails over there? Can’t see for shit with this eyepatch.”

Sole rolled their eyes and handed the raider the container of nails, “Why don’t you just take it off then? I know you have a fully-functional eyeball under there.”

“Yeah but it’s part of the image.”

“Alright, One-eyed Willie.”

“The fuck is that?” Gage asked, “You pickin on me, boss?”

Hancock:

Hancock and Sole were hanging out in Hancock’s quarters listening to the radio, taking hits of jet, and drinking whiskey.

“This is niice,” Hancock mused, taking a long hit of jet, “Sometimes ya need a break from running the city, yanno?”

Sole nodded.

Suddenly, the song changed and Hancock grunted. “I hate this one. It kills the vibe in here.”

As he got up to change the station, drink in hand, a random Goodneighbor resident barreled into the room, nearly knocking the mayor over.

“Woah, friend, I’ve got a beverage here.” It was then the ghoul noticed he had spilled his drink all over himself and the rug. “Ah, come on, brother. That was a new rug.”

“Easy there, Lebowski,” Sole consoled, standing up and putting a hand on their companion’s shoulder, “Whiskey shouldn’t be too difficult to clean off a rug.”

“Sorry Hancock,” the resident apologized, “But your friend here is right. I mean it is practically water.”

Cait:

Cait and Sole were crouched behind a stack of boxes, fully prepared to ambush a group of raiders who were holding an innocent settler hostage.

“Can’t wait to use this new machete ye gave me,” Cait gushed, excitedly studying the weapon, “Never have had the chance to use one of these before.”

Sole smiled.

“Ready darlin?”

“Ready.”

The pair sprung out from their hiding spot and began their onslaught. Sole took cover behind an old desk, shooting at the raiders with ease and Cait decapitated them with her machete.

“I’m just gettin warmed up, ye clowns!”

The redhead suddenly ran up a side wall and did a flip, slicing two raiders heads off at the same time. Sole lowered their weapon and watched in awe as their partner singlehandedly decimated the raiders with her melee weapon. When the last raider was taken out, Cait took a little bow.

“Damn, Uma Thurman! Leave some for me next time,” Sole joked.

“Couldn’t help it. This machete is way too much fun.”

Deacon:

Deacon and Sole were hiding in an air vent, preparing to take out some synths as asked by Drummer Boy, when Deacon started fumbling around.

“What are you doing?” Sole whispered harshly, annoyed by their partner’s commotion.

“I’m due for an image change,” Deacon answered matter-of-factly, taking his shirt off, “I’ve been in my Elvis Presley Wannabe disguise for two hours now.”

Sole clenched their teeth in frustration.

“What do you think I should go for? The intelligent Bald Doc or intimidating Street Punk?”

“How about the bumbling Austin Powers?”

Deacon chuckled, “Yeah bAbY! I’m flattered you would even suggest that. Such a cool character.”

Sole rolled their eyes as Deacon began to dress as the iconic British spy.

Curie:

Curie and Sole were walking along the coast of Salem when the synth suddenly stopped. Sole turned around, concerned.

“You okay, Curie?”

The synth looked at Sole and smiled. “Oui. I was just thinking...thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to exist in human form.”

“No problem! I’m just glad you’re happy.”

Curie nodded, “It’s not like I wasn’t happy being in my old body it’s just...I can do so much more now in this new body. Do field work, collaborate, share my findings and be taken seriously. That and...this body is very flattering. Much more attractive than metal and bolts.”

Sole laughed, “Hey, I thought your EVE form was adorable.”

“Eve? Who is that?”

“She was a character— a robot— from a pre-war movie called WALL-E.”

“I see...well, that is very interesting, [Madame/Monsieur]!”

Longfellow:

“Damn snow. I hate the North. Move me to the tropics,” Longfellow complained as he and Sole walked through a light snow flurry.

“It’s not even that bad,” Sole reassured, “Besides, what would Christmas be without snow?”

“I don’t care about Christmas. Got no family to celebrate it with anyway.”

“Oh come on, Scrooge,” Sole teased, “We can celebrate Christmas together if you want.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I am old Ebenezer. Bah humbug,” Longfellow grumpily muttered, taking a shot of whiskey.

X6-88:

X6 and Sole were on a mission tag a synth with a tracking beacon when Sole suddenly stopped.

“Is something wrong, [sir/ma’am]?” the synth asked, concerned.

“No it’s just...what would you look like without your glasses? I’ve never seen you take them off. Do you even have eyes under there?”

X6 nodded, “Of course I have eyes. The glasses make me look slick. More professional, if you will.”

“You look like Morpheus from The Matrix.”

“And he was an influential individual, was he not?”

Sole remained silent.

“Case in point, [sir/ma’am].”

Preston:

Sole had just returned to Sanctuary after a lengthy fight with some gunners with Preston beckoned to them.

“Another settlement needs our help,” he began, “The settlers at Nordhagen beach are complaining about a wobbly chair and—“

Sole raised their hand in the air, “Do it yourself, Fix-it-Felix,” they mumbled before retreating to their room for a nap.

Codsworth:

Sole and Codsworth were in their old house, assembling furniture and reminiscing about the past.

“This was such a happy home before the bombs dropped. I wish we could go back to it, [sir/mum].”

Sole nodded in agreement as they discovered old photographs in cracked frames. Codsworth hovered over to examine Sole’s finding.

“Ah! That photograph! That was the first day you adopted me,” the robot gushed, “I’m so glad you chose the name Codsworth and not any of the absurd names the [hubby/wife] was suggesting.”

Sole laughed, “But Codsworth was their idea! I was going to name you BB-8.”

“Seriously? Why? Just because I’m round and I’m a robot?”

“Exactly!”

Codsworth huffed in annoyance and floated away from an amused Sole.

[kinetic-elaboration]

September 4: 1x13 The Conscience of the King

Past midnight and I’m tired but!! The Conscience of the King!

This was a wild ep. A lot to untangle about it.

Dramatic Shakespeare! Jim’s very invested in the performance.

I legit thought that the guy next to him was McCoy the first time I watched this. I hadn’t seen much ST at the time and that’s my excuse but also in my defense he has a similar facial structure and it’s dark.

“What do I do about my log???” New hydration game: drink whenever someone mentions their logs.

So Tarsus had only 8,000 people--that’s not very many. They must have been very isolated and new. And Kodos killed 4,000.

The Karidian players are part of the “Galactic Cultural Exchange Project.”

One of my problems with believing this Kirk/Lenore romance outside the usual honeypot aspects is that she is a little young for him perhaps??? I say as if I didn’t know couples with a bigger age gap but--she’s only 19 so it’s different.

So Kodos faked his death, fairly immediately had a daughter, and then changed his identity. Her age being exactly 19 is probably just about keeping math simple but I would like to read more into it than that.

Major plot hole that there’s a PICTURE of Kodos in the database. Like???? Then everyone knows what he looks like? The idea that only 9 people have the secret knowledge to bring him to justice and yet also everyone with an internet connection can see his photo is just nonsense.

Kirk, being charming at a party. I feel like his flirt game isn’t so strong at first (here, have this glass I’ve already sipped from?) but it gets stronger as their conversation goes on. He doesn’t have the greatest lines but his attitude is so charming and attractive it legit does not matter what he’s saying.

I used to feel, at least, that Lenore was one of his real, legit love interests, probably because of the ending and because it was one of the first eps I saw so I took it as more face value, but on a rewatch... not really sure. At any rate this initial flirting is all about the Strategy.

I find it somewhat disturbing that Lenore played her father’s wife.

The Astral Queen??

Lenore is really bad at judging Kirk, like from beginning to end. If this were airing now and I were in the fandom, I’d be getting into internet fights with people about how her analyses of him are biased and shouldn’t be taken at face value because they clearly have no connection to how he actually is. “Where’s the brash young man from the party?” Was there ever a brash young man? Is he in any way different on their walk versus inside??

A dead body, what a mood killer.

I like the aesthetic of this planet, though.

Wow, wtf, Kirk, your friend’s widow is crying and you give her a five-second hug and then literally push her off screen? Gotta hurry it up ma’am!

So he just has to say ‘over and out’ and the communicator cuts the transmission and he can call someone else. Very high-tech.

Spock is displeased. A little suspicious. A little jealous.

How did you know she was coming on the ship? “I’m the Captain.”

Spock should appreciate how sneaky Kirk is being with all his schemes. It’s not Menagerie level but still.

Riley! I wish he were in more eps. He’s one of my favorite minor characters. I realize he’s only in this one because they accidentally cast the same actor twice but still--he had potential. I see he’s been taken out of Navigation. And given a backstory in Engineering, and then moved to Communications. But he keeps the gold shirt. Busy fellow.

“Star Service.”

So he transferred Riley to protect him because he figured... no one knows where Engineering is?

I love this Spock and McCoy scene. McCoy being so laid back and Spock being like “I am suspicious of this suspicious situation.”

Vulcan was never conquered though??

“Your personal chemistry wouldn’t allow you to see that” sounds an awful lot like a veiled “you’re gay” reference.

Someone finally comments on the romantic lighting that follows Kirk around.

Wow, how did all this “surging and throbbing” talk get past the censors? Tone it down, Lenore.

Kirk claims he eventually really liked her, but this is like the last positive scene they have and he’s still CLEARLY fishing for information.

Love that cut from Lenore and Kirk making out to Spock alone on the bridge at night, brooding. (No one needs to steer the ship at night I guess?)

Poor Riley, stuck by himself in Engineering during the late shift. “You’ve been a bad boy.” I love when the crew gets to just hang out and be friends. Also interesting that Uhura has borrowed Spock’s harp.

Spock: “Riley can’t die because KIRK.”

This is a great triumvirate scene. I love how they play off each other, and how they simultaneously care about each other and about their jobs and doing the right thing.

I do find it weird that McCoy is so anti this whole investigating Kodos thing. Like, this isn’t some crazy vengeful path that Jim’s on or whatever he’s implying. Jim’s actually being pretty careful and slow in his actions? And there is someone actively killing people, like--the threat is imminent? It’s just a weird side to represent. I get the balance they’re trying to portray with the three sides but McCoy just doesn’t have a good argument and Jim doesn’t really need to be pulled back--if anything, he needs to be pushed, as Spock is pushing him.

“Logic isn’t enough. I’ve got to feel my way.”

 Double red alert sounds like double secret probation.

Spock shushing the Captain.

Throw the phaser out the window.

Lol after all this hullabaloo about being extra sure and all this scheming to get people on his ship--Kirk just comes out and asks Karidian if he’s Kodos. Well that’s one way about it!

Kodos, like his daughter, fundamentally misunderstands Jim. I know he seems very ‘starship captain with his technological tests’ or whatever but--to call him not human?? He is the MOST human!!

Kirk does understand life or death decisions but he would never have made the decision Kodos made.

I’m with Spock, this is not ambiguous. This man is clearly Kodos. I’m glad there was a character actively saying that the alleged tension in this “who is he really?” plot line is not actually real.

This guy is such a manipulative drama queen oml.

I feel like the morality of this situation is not as gray as some characters are trying to make it. Like, no, Lenore, no one’s crying a river for Kodos lol.

The Kodoses again are either not good at reading Kirk or are deliberately trying to gaslight him into incorrect beliefs about himself because he has literally been nothing but human and merciful this entire time!!! An inhuman person would be like “logically he has to be Kodos” and an unmerciful person would be like “and he needs to die” and just like killed him 10 minutes into the ep.

This is the downside of audio logs--private things don’t stay very private.

Riley’s on the loose! Very IC of him.

I love that the ship has a theater, btw.

Riley must have been very young on Tarsus. No more than maybe 6, 7 years old. Knowing what I know about people’s inability to actually remember things or identify people with any accuracy at all, I don’t actually believe he recognizes Kodos’s voice. But what were we saying about how Kirk is unmerciful and in human?

Riley sure backs down fast when Kirk says so.

This Lenore and Kodos scene is probably the best in the whole ep. Really laying bare their fucked up relationship and how absolutely, tragically, irredeemably mad she is. The drama! I love a true wild woman.

The irony! The Shakespearean over-the-top-ness of it all!

You know at least one person in the audience thinks this is just a really weird play.

Leave it to McCoy to ask all the wrong questions lol. He wants to know if Jim liked the girl--who the fuck cares? He knew her for one day. Maybe he was briefly legit interested in her for a few minutes there, but she’s certifiable AND she tried to kill him, so that’s that on that.

The real important thing we should be talking about here is how Jim feels about the death of a man who killed 4,000 people and traumatized him for life.

And Spock stays away entirely, instead of walking over the chair as he usually does. Giving Kirk space to sort out his feelings, perhaps?

So yeah there’s a lot to unpack in this ep.

I think I once ran across a tumblr post that said this ep implied Kirk was slated to be on the to kill list but honestly it’s pretty clearly the opposite--Kodos killed exactly who he wanted to kill, so if Kirk’s alive, Kirk was supposed to live. (I guess they thought the implication came from Kirk being one of the people to see him? But we have no idea what the circumstances of that were, or why the people to see him included a couple of teenagers and a small child.) Also I think I heard once that there was a deleted line about Kirk saying he was one of the people considered worth saving.

This ep is really wild because introducing Tarsus into Jim’s background really changes a lot and introduces a lot into his character and yet it’s basically just done for plot purposes, to make sure the main character stays at the center of the story. But truly it must have transformed him to witness that at ~15.

Overall we hear very little from Kirk directly here. We know he wants to be sure Karidian is Kodos, and he goes to a lot of trouble to be sure, even though it’s quite obvious there’s no mystery to these massive coincidences. We know from his actions--bringing the players aboard, using Lenore, transferring Riley--that he’s deeply affected by this. And sometimes people (who don’t know him well) talk about him, mostly incorrectly (though in a way where I wonder if the writer was trying to get us to think this stuff is true of him? for the dramatic effect?) But for all that, he doesn’t talk about his feelings much at all.

Another take on this ep that I also saw on tumblr and liked a lot was that Kirk is so optimistic and hopeful in part because of Tarsus, because he saw that Kodos rushed to kill people when he really didn't need to, when he didn't think the supply ship would come in time--but then it came early. So the lesson to take from that is, to always be hopeful, to always believe in the last minute save, to always prioritize people's lives and safety first because anything could happen.

I feel like we're supposed to feel bad for Kodos in some way because he left all the mass murdering behind ages ago BUT it doesn't work so well because we're also supposed to believe, imo, that he was the killer, not Lenore. Like, Spock wants Kirk to act as if this man is Kodos and be proactive, but he's not doing it because he's a vengeful person--he's doing it because Kodos, he thinks, is threatening Kirk. Spock never goes beyond that to advocate, for example, a vengeance killing versus giving him to the authorities versus idk just yelling at him or something. So this idea that interfering with Kodos in any way is just being mean is sort of bizarre--there's an active threat here.

Plus sorry but committing genocide 20 years ago isn’t something we just sweep under the rug. He was the mastermind of something truly horrendous and he got away with it! I’m not going to feel bad for him!

And on top of that the idea that he was just killing people to save other people is one thing--at least morally gray I GUESS lol. But he was targeting people for his own eugenics purposes!! He even says this is part of "the Revolution." The famine was an excuse. He wanted to kill them.

Like I realize most of the people getting on Kirk's back for literally everything are the Kodoses, who are nuts and evil, but I feel like he took a lot of shit for doing nothing wrong.

My mom was wondering how Lenore knew her father was Kodos. I’m not entirely sure but I will say I love her and how just unrepetentedly mad she is. I prefer Lenore to most TOS women because I often feel like the show doesn't......really know how to write women. With Lenore there was no attempt to make her anything but off her rocker nuts. And the twist that she was the killer was effective.

She has that very classic insanity, which is the person who has only one thought and it consumes them. Only one purpose. I think she must have been raised separate from literally everyone but her father--he's been a traveling actor her whole life, so she never socialized, she never went to school, she had no other family. He's very private so she never had, like, a social circle. So he's her WHOLE WORLD. And then maybe she got suspicious as to why that was, and discovered his past. And then she felt that this past threatened him, and anything that threatened him threatened EVERYTHING. So she became...this person we see here.

And, as my mom also pointed out, the ‘body burned beyond recognition’ story is so suspect. With all their future tech? There was no way to id it? Also, what was the official explanation as to how that happened? We know 4,000 people were killed; we know a supply/rescue ship came early, and we know Kodos died and his body wasn’t identified. But what’s the rest of the sequence of events? Was there a riot or revolt and he was killed? Did he kill himself? It’s unlikely he burned to death on accident. The point is that he did not fake his death by himself.

One downfall of this ep is that it is very complicated for only 50 minutes. So much stuff is cut short or cut out--a lot of the backstory, most of Kirk’s feelings, but even stuff like Riley backing down so fast, or Tom’s widow getting literally pushed off screen while she’s grieving. The idea that Lenore and Kirk were supposed to have a real romance somehow? And, the eugenics angle is obviously a huge part of the story but it’s barely touched upon.

According to the trivia on amazon, the original script explained Kirk's presence on Tarsus as being related to Starfleet--he was just out of the Academy and stationed there. That would make him older than other episodes assume him to be--about 42, versus 34-36. But I like it better having him be a teen bc then we don't expect him to know all the stuff that went down later, the aftermath etc. My mom suggested he might have been doing the high school version of a study abroad year, since he’s so smart. This would also explain why his family doesn’t seem to have been on Tarsus, even though if we take his age from other episodes, he was not an adult.

This may be an unpopular opinion, but I don’t think AOS Kirk was on Tarsus, if in fact Tarsus happened at all in the alternate universe. I just see no evidence in his character that would make me think he’d had that experience.

Next up is Balance of Terror, yet another favorite episode. I mean Mark Lenard?? Romulans?? Can’t go wrong with that.

[depressionforbreakfast-blog1]

CHANGES: The Advancement of the Human Condition Part 1

A collection of guidelines for being better. 

by AB Khan

Part 1

Lately it has been hard to come to terms with how normalized corruption has become in the world. It oozes out of nearly every entity that we have no choice but to depend on for guidance, for protection, and all of the other comforts that stem from living in a society. The question that arises is, what happens when these comforts are used against us for the interest of other wealthier, more powerful people? We are used as tools and weapons in physical, spiritual and economical wars we don’t even know the meaning of, with the causes and effects of these wars then hidden from us through crooked media sources. Our emotions, our rage and our depression, even our happiness, all used as tools to keep us either completely oblivious or in a constant state of disarray. Now that we have a very big event coming up, one that will decide how quickly a, dare I say, revolution will take place, it is as good a time as any for these more powerful, more or less evil people to tamper with our ways of thinking - to turn us on to hurting each other physically and emotionally over what we believe, especially for who we choose for this election. They have us turning the politics into fuel that has led to the mass degradation of social relations, destruction, death. For what? For who? For the ones who pull these strings, without a fucking care for you?

For them?

We need to put an end to this. I refuse to believe we are so ignorant as to just sit and watch this happen. We are being used against each other. Pawns. 

The way to change this, along with the quality of life for all humans across the board, is to identify who is keeping us in this state. To put it plainly, it is us against them. Talk to your friends, family, coworkers, identify the people who have been keeping us down. Band together and demand change. Even the people you despise, if they are not one of those people, reach out with love, hope, and caring for a fellow human. We are all ones in the same. We all need the same things. Let us put wants and selfish practices aside for the betterment of ALL people. 

To those who have strong political convictions, who argue with the other side or see them as the enemy - remember that they are like you, and they have needs just like you. The beliefs that we hold have been affected by the ones who pull the strings, and you must remember this. I can assure you that the people who lead either side, they do not support anything but themselves and their interests. They have their own agendas. That’s why we need to come together. Racism must be policed, for it is one of the hindrances of this revolution. We are all seen as the same thing. Tools. Weapons against each other. And if you truly believe that a human with a different skin color than you is lesser, then you need to be educated on not only science, but morality, for it is one of the only forms of pure evil on the planet. You need to realize that your views also have been created from misinformation to sway you in the direction of OTHER PEOPLE’S INTERESTS AND POCKETS.

Once we start practicing this, we will be ready for the next step. Demanding change in this democracy, on our economy, with our taxes and the quality of life for ALL people in this country. Come together.

[anathtsurugi]

All right, my fellow chickadees, a lot has been going on in the world of Anath Tsurugi. Much more than computer breakdowns and the allure of a shiny new fandom. While I don't imagine those of you who've recently started following me for my Good Omens content expected anything like this, I feel like those of you who have been with me for Star Wars and Red vs. Blue and longer might want to know some of this. Might want to know some of the things that have gone into the recent chapters of my work. I just feel like, maybe, I owe you all some sort of explanation?

No. That's wrong. I know I don't owe anybody anything. I suppose I just want to get it out into the world, get my thoughts in order, as it were. It doesn't matter so terribly much if nobody reads it; it will be a lot to take in. Mostly, I just want to tell you all a story. Because telling stories is how I cope, how I interact with reality. My need in all of this is to try and create something beautiful out of something that was painful.

So...would you mind if I told you a story?

As most things are with me, this is a story about love, about love and friendship and heartbreak and family and resilience. At the end, though, it's nothing more and nothing less than a story about love.

As some of you may have heard or picked up on, my wife and I have been attempting to have a baby. At this point, it's been roughly a year since the process began (financing, insurance coverage, choosing a donor, etc.). The first attempt didn't take, but the second one did. My wife got pregnant and we were both suddenly anxious/excited/hellafuckingnervous parents to be.

As honesty is the name of the game tonight, I would have to say that 'The Colder the Winter, the Warmer the Spring' has largely been fueled by my own anxieties over becoming a parent. Like...am I good enough to properly raise another human being? What human in their right mind would even give me the chance? What is it possible for someone as emotionally stunted as I am to give to a child? Is the love between my wife and I strong enough to do for a little one in a world that will already be against them merely for the crime of being born to two women?

Whether intentionally or unintentionally, I imagine you'll have seen a lot of this in my telling of the story of Zeb, Alex, and little Arkalia, and will probably see it more now that you know it's there. But really, that seems to have happened with a lot of the major storytelling undertakings in my life. The 400K Sleeping Beauty epic I wrote for the Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle fandom was fueled almost exclusively by my pining for my then roommate, now wife. The MCU and Red vs. Blue verses I crafted sprang up around the planning of our wedding. I suppose this was just the natural next step, for us and for my craft. If you see genuine terror in my writing of Zeb's and Alex's fears over not being good enough parental figures for Ari, that is why. This is my way to ask and to hopefully deal with the answers to these questions.

So things were going well on planet Earth, or at least they were in our little corner of it. First trimester was plugging along. We were dreaming up names and having conversations about how we wanted to parent. I was going ugly early on the whole 'wait on your wife hand and foot' thing and upping my nutritional game in the kitchen. We were designing a Miyazaki nursery of epic geekdom and talking about how we'd be covered on all bases, since she's such a huge Harry Potter fan and I'm nothing if not an uber Star Wars nerd. I was learning she considered me a more fit parent (which makes zero sense to me, given that she's the one with a decent head on her shoulders, whereas me? I'm just a dreamer, and sometimes it seems that's all I'll ever be, but...yeah, that's a conversation for another time), but the point is that it was all fine. Sure it was nerve-wracking, but we'd figure it out somehow, just like we did everything else. It was what we wanted. We were in it together.

Then we got back the results from the genetic testing the doctor's office advised we have done.

And oh, no. No, it wasn't fine at all.

Trisomy 18.

I had never heard of Trisomy 18 before we got those results. I suppose Trisomy 21 is the one you hear about because it's actually survivable. With Trisomy 18, the 5% of babies who aren't stillborn largely don't make it past the first year. It was not, they informed us, an infallible diagnosis. They would schedule us an ultrasound to be certain, but the numbers were not in our favor.

We didn't talk to anyone but each other that week, not really certain how we wanted to handle things until we knew more. Some of the extended family is fairly religious and conservative and we just didn't need that bullshit on top of everything else. We didn't need other opinions. It was our decision, and the conclusion we came to was that if the diagnosis was truly that bleak, then we would terminate the pregnancy before things got out of hand...before continuing would bring harm to my wife or suffering to either her or the baby. At that point, it becomes a question of 'Do you love your child enough to take the decision onto yourself, even though it will break your heart? Do you love them enough not to force them to suffer for someone else's misguided notion of what is and is not life?'

I didn't consider much during that week the effect all of this was having on me. I told myself I had accepted and was prepared to move forward should the worst happen. My concern was largely for my wife and what she was going through. She was, after all, the one who'd been experiencing it all. We were barely out of the first trimester and she wasn't showing yet. So far as I knew, we hadn't reached the point of quickening. It was all still distinctly her experience. If I hoped for a miracle, it was for her sake, not my own. I thought, 'I can take it. I'm tough. Put the world on my shoulders and I'll carry it for you. I would give everything I am to take your pain from you.'

I am, as I mentioned earlier, very emotionally stunted. I know it was far from their intention, but the impression I received from my own parents growing up was that my thoughts and my feelings on any given matter were not particularly important. Oh, I was consulted, certainly. The veneer was there, but if the correct answer was not given, it was little better than if I'd said nothing at all. So I had long since ceased to say anything of any real value out loud. (In truth, my wife was one of the few people to make me feel that my thoughts and feelings had value, but again, that's another story.) I don't often give of myself outwardly. Trying to draw words from my throat is oftentimes comparable to trying to pull a ball of razor wire up from the pit of my stomach. Sometimes the only way I can give of myself is in writing. All the things I can't give voice to come out in my work. So I am, probably to an unhealthy degree, somewhat proud of my own stoicism. With me, it's always 'No. You don't get to break. No matter what they throw at you, you will not feel it. You will remain unharmed, unbent, and utterly unbroken.'

(Heh, shit. Writing it out like that now, I'm suddenly left wondering if that isn't the reason I'm so damn good at breaking characters. Because writing out those moments of absolute shatter are the only way I'll ever allow myself to feel them...because it isn't me breaking. But...in a way, it is. Isn't it.)

Point here being that allowing that mentality to boil beneath the surface will eventually erupt to sucker punch you in the face. That happened to me as I was leaving work to go and pick my wife up for the ultrasound. The thoughts I hadn't allowed myself to think all week suddenly started to creep in on me.

Is this...somehow my fault?

(At the level of logic, you know it's not. It's a bloody game of genetic roulette. A one in five thousand chance. But there's always the one. Somebody's always going to take the bullet.)

Was I not ready for this? Did I not want it enough?

(Ridiculous. I know what it's like to get shafted at the genetic lottery. I've been dealing with PCOS since I was 18. While the disease isn't fully understood, there is a genetic component. Saying that this was somehow either of our fault was akin to saying that my own illness was somehow my fault. Even so...even so, you can't help but ask...)

Bloody fucking hell! Did I do this? Was there something- anything I could've done to stop this?

(You know. You know you couldn't have done. But still the thought haunts you.)

I hadn't allowed myself to feel it...to cry. I don't doubt that we both hoped for their numbers to somehow be wrong, but I think we both already knew at that point that it was over, and I hadn't let myself start to grieve. So there I was, hurtling down the highway with tears pouring silently down my face.

Traffic depending, it takes anywhere from a half hour to an hour to get between the bookstore and her office, so I had time to get myself back in order. I didn't want to make this any worse for her than it already was. I know what it does to her to know I've been crying, since I do it so rarely.

(You don't get to break.)

But...well...then something happened on the way to the hospital. I had my iphone on shuffle playing the playlist I'd compiled to listen to while working on Star Wars fic, and while we were driving, our wedding song came up in the shuffle. 'Boxes' by the Goo Goo Dolls. We had our first dance to it and I sang it to her while we danced.

I need a family to drive me crazy

Call me out when I'm low and lazy

It won't be perfect, but we'll be fine

'Cause I've got your back and you've got mine

I should probably have it understood that I have 'Boxes' on all of my writing playlists. It's just the love song to me now, and as far as fic writing goes, I tend to gravitate to ships that reflect the relationship my wife and I share. Kalluzeb, KuroFai, Bagginshield, Stucky, SpiritAssassin, MaineWash, Shallura, Kanera, Klance, Sterek, Zutara, and now, of course, the Ineffable Husbands themselves. The list goes on, believe me. Every word I write for each one of my couples is my love song to her, and my experience of the love between us. If you've ever commented on the depth of love and emotion you felt when reading one of my stories, then you've felt what I've felt, and I hope I've made your world a little brighter for it. In this particular instance, though...this...our love song...if we were going to have a miracle that day, that was it. (I know. One song on one playlist, nothing particularly miraculous there. But a one in seven hundred chance during a fifteen minute drive? I was going to take what I could get.)

You are the memory that won't ever lapse

When twenty-five years have suddenly passed

Wherever you take me, it's clear I will go

Your love's the one love that I need to know

You are the sun in the desolate sky

Your life's in these words and it can't be denied

Wherever you take me, it's clear I will go

Your love's the one love that I need to know

If I hadn't been driving, I would've reached out to hold her hand then. Normally, we sing the song together when it comes on, then we play it again, maybe a third time if we're really feeling it. I couldn't sing this time, not during the first play through, anyway. I was a little too choked up. But I managed a few of the lyrics the second time through.

I don't have the words to tell you what a comfort that song was in that moment. It could've been any song on that playlist, but it just happened to be that one.

(This hurts. We're both writers, but I don't think either of us could hope to express just how much it hurts. But remember...I chose you and you chose me. You were my dearest friend and I love you more than I can ever hope to say. It hurts now. It may never not hurt, but we'll get through. We'll be fine. We'll get through it together, like we came through everything else to stand at the altar together...and how we'll come through it all again to hold a new little someone. We're here together.)

So we faced it together, got the news we were expecting. There were other tests they could've done, but neither of us saw any point to it by then. Even if it wasn't specifically Trisomy 18, it was plainly something just as bad. We made the call there, and I do want it understood that we made the decision to  terminate the pregnancy. Despite what ultimately ended up happening, I won't have that spun any other way.

So calls were made, insurances were checked out, and the procedure was scheduled. We were, unfortunately, just a touch too far outside the first trimester to safely be able to just take a pill. The abortion had to be done surgically, and my wife preferred to be put under for it, fearing she might panic if she were conscious.

And I did, of course, promise to tell you how this all started to align with the writing of the more recent chapters of TCTW, along with my beginning scraps of Good Omens fic. It began that same day, actually – the day of the ultrasound. Because I had to come home from that and write Ash's birth scene.

That wasn't all that difficult. Largely numb at that point, I didn't have much trouble writing out the dream of a happy birth. But it started to get harder a few days later when I was sitting alone in the waiting room. By then I was working on the scene where Kallus is finally able to contact Zeb after coming out of his two week coma. It wasn't even a little bit of a stretch for me to write Zeb's desperation and panic during that scene because they were my own (though I suppose I managed to spare myself a little grief writing the scene from Kallus' POV instead of Zeb's).

Another thing I ought to tell you about myself is that I'm...something of a method writer, I suppose is the term, in that I will attempt to write when I'm angry, when I'm in pain, when I'm exhausted, when I'm heartbroken, in an effort to convey the experience of these things faithfully. So, in some strange way, this was almost...familiar territory for me. To write my own feelings into the scene as it was happening. Everything came off without any trouble. The doctors came to me after it was over and told me that he'd already had no heartbeat by the time they'd begun the procedure. It was comforting in its own way. Eliminated several question marks as to whether or not we'd made the right choice. I brought my wife home once she was awake enough to be discharged, and it seemed we were pretty well on the road to recovery. But, as some of you may have already noticed, this is where we come to the part of the story where something more is lost.

My wife needed something to turn her attention to, so it seemed to us a good time to handle OS updates for my eight-year-old laptop, which was an odyssey of itself. Point being that somewhere in the middle of all this my WIP draft of that chapter was lost to the digital ether.

Everyone around me was asking why it should be so hard to rewrite the lost scene. After all, I'd written it before, hadn't I?

Yes. Yes, I had.

I had written that scene when I was alone in a hospital waiting room, heartbroken and afraid, conscious every moment for an experience my wife was blessedly able to sleep through. This was why it was so devastating to me to lose that scene. Bitter as it was, it was a piece I'd poured a large part of my heart into in a moment of despair. In its own odd way, it had been beautiful in its desolation. I had already lost something precious that day. Why did I also have to lose what I had managed to create from that anguish?

It was a moment I knew I never wanted to revisit. Nor could I ever hope to recapture the emotion of it in writing, no matter how many times I tried. I could never portray the rawness of what I'd felt in that moment. So I didn't try. The scene as it exists now is particularly disheartening to me, not because it's bad, but because it's just...not what I wrote. The scene currently in the story is hollow and has no heart. There's no truth in it. The piece of my self that I gave in that moment was lost, and I can never get it back.

So, with yet one more loss endured, I continued on. I managed to make the rest of that chapter what I wanted it to be, so I could at least be proud of that. Chapter 15 was also easy enough to handle, as it was far removed from the family and childbirth aspects of the story, simply building upon what already existed in Rebels canon. But then the time came to write chapter 16, and once again I struggled.

By its very nature, TCTW has always heavily featured pregnancy and childbirth, so there was never going to be any skirting that, but another aspect I had always planned for was Zelina experiencing the death of one of the babies she was delivering. It was always meant to be part of her character arc as a rising medic and I knew I couldn't turn away from it. My wife asked me if I could change it, but I wasn't going to do that. If I was going to change something like that, it was going to be because the story merited it, because it would benefit from such a change. It was not going to be because of my own weakness. Even so, I know I delayed writing it for as long as I feasibly could. (That was also when Good Omens started to come into the picture, but we'll unpack that in a moment.)

For all I claimed to be a method writer just a few paragraphs ago, I can tell you now that I've never had such a visceral response to a scene I was actively writing as I did that one. My fingers trembled on the keys, feeling a little weak as I moved through the words. In fact, my whole body felt weak and I had to bite down hard on my lip to keep back the feeling of nausea, everything inside of me rebelling at the notion of describing the death of this little baby. For all Zelina's experience with Akinah and her stillborn son is such a small part of the overall chapter, of the overall story, it was still the hardest thing I'd ever had to write. As with everything else, though, it seems I managed to keep this in, too, as my wife tells me none of this was outwardly visible while I was writing. I sat next to her the whole time and, apparently, the only indication I gave that anything was wrong was the fact that I was still and quiet throughout. (To give you a better standard of comparison for what she's used to, I'm normally much more expressive when I write. I'll start mouthing dialogue or testing out expressions or gestures I'm describing. I once had to explain to my brother-in-law that I was actually channeling a character when he was concerned over a horrified look I had in my eyes at the time. If I, personally, were horrified, you wouldn't know it. All you would get would be a blank slate. So of course my wife would notice something was off this time.)

It was such a little thing...such a little thing, but still it was hard. It was a relief to move on, to have death and despair conquered throughout the rest of the chapter, but even near the end of it, when Zeb is lingering over saying goodbye to Arkalia, knowing he'll have to give her up...in some small way, he speaks with my voice...saying goodbye to the son my wife and I might have had.

Of course, that particular goodbye will turn out much happier than my own did in the end. But will you be seeing me continue to deal with this a lot in future pieces? Most definitely. TCTW will continue to bear most of the emotional fulcrum (yup, little in joke there), but it's also why I've been getting into writing Good Omens fic of late. Though the theme of parenting's remained the same, it's allowed me to turn my energies toward things a little more light-hearted. This was all about the time I started piecing together my little Good Omens 'Star Wars' AU, and when I put out my mini one shot of Crowley and Aziraphale as parents. Though I have started to come up with a wider verse for that particular ficlet (because it's me; how can I not? There's actually an in joke with my wife and I whenever the subject of long fic comes up with me. She'll ask, "What's the one thing I asked you not to do?" "Write Sleeping Beauty." "And what did you do?" "Wrote Sleeping Beauty," I respond meekly.).

And for all I said my Good Omens fic is giving me the opportunity for more light-hearted fare, I have also got a story idea that deals with Crowley and Aziraphale losing a pregnancy, but also with the one they don't lose. So you'll be seeing me deal, yes, but hopefully you'll also see some worthwhile stories come out of it all since, as I said, telling stories is how I cope. You'll be seeing my newly blended concoctions of angst, loss, and sorrow, but you'll see joy from me, as well. Because, as a great storyteller once said, "...let there also be Hope. It may be a grim, thin hope...but let us know that we do not live in vain." Really, that's what writing and storytelling are to me, whether they be fan fiction or any other kind – torches against the long nights that are pain and sadness, and blades against the endless tangles of thorns that are self-doubt and fear.

Wow. Heheh. Waxed hella poetic for a minute there. But no. I don't think I'll tone it down. It's a truth, and whether that truth is used to discover the strength to be a parent through a Rebel warrior and an ex-Imperial, to find a way to live through pain with an angel and a demon who have endured for over 6,000 years, or even just to find the way to a smile with a ninja and a mage in a coffeeshop AU where everything is beautiful and nothing hurts...a truth is a truth. My wife and I might not ever be facing down giant planet-killing super weapons or averting the Apocalypse with nothing more than a flaming sword and a tire iron, but when our IRL challenges feel as insurmountable as those things, well...it helps to be able to weave a story and begin to find some of those truths.

And yes, we are doing better. It's been a few months now and we're starting over again. The going can just be a little slow since not every attempt is successful and, let's face it, assisted reproductive technology don't come cheap. And as much work as I put into my fic writing, there's not a whole lot of money to be made in the field (none at all, in fact, but...turning away from it...who really wants to read another publishing hopeful's dewy-eyed delusions of sci-fi grandeur?). So if the going seems slower with me, I do apologize. Know that I never cease to write (as I'm quite certain that if I did, I would simply go mad...*backward glance* er...well...madder, at any rate, but that's neither here nor there) and I'm hopeful of creating some good things from all this. It just...sometimes it takes a while to slog through everything. So, as always, I hope I continue to do for you. Whatever capacity you might support me or my work in, know that my wife and I appreciate it.

It won't be perfect, but we'll be fine.

[ravens-rambling]

How Venom met the Spiders

A/N: So I have really been addicted to @sugarglider9603 and @ask-spiderverse-virgil Spideverse Au and I watched Venom the other day so I was inspired to make this! It’s gonna be how Deceit met Venom and how the gang met Venom and blah blah blah. It’s going to be similar to the Venom movie but with some differences here and there. And yes there will be a second part and yes this will end happy but for now, enjoy this beautiful angst. 

summary: So there he was enjoying his alone time, being the loner of your kind will do that to you, when he suddenly got captured by these creatures called ‘humans’ and taken to their planet. Now at first, it was fun he was going to enjoy some sightseeing ya know the whole works. But no! Instead, they keep him in this tube and really the only thing he’s felt since he has arrived is pain! The nerve of them right? Once he gets out of here he will show them what mistake they made messing with Venom. 

WC: 2,438

ships: Romantic RED/ Remilceit 

warnings: Crying, Angst, Violence, Mentions of puking, Mentions of body horror, Cracked bones, uuuhhhh idk?

Tag List: @punsterterry @frostedlover @stormcrawler75 @mutechild @mycatshuman @panicattheeverywhere15 @thewinterbookqueen @analogical-mess  

Pain

That’s all he has seen of this stupid world. That’s all he’s experienced. And quite frankly? It’s starting to get a bit boring to him. Though he has to admit at least it’s funnier here than at home… Well, he’s a loner too here but hey that’s beside the point right? Point is is that he is stuck on this miserable planet properly forever without the rest of his kind.

Take that as you will.

Some might say being stuck on a planet by yourself is fun. Some might say being alone and not knowing what the hell is going on around you with all the bright lights and noises is not fun. So hey whatever floats your boat.

One thing Venom is certain of is that he was taken from his planet with some of his kind for these stupid creatures ‘experiment’ to habitat his planet (I know stupid right? Pesky humans). Next, he’s either stuck in a tube barely able to move much or being in high amounts of pain which he’s got to say is not very fun won’t recommend that. Then he barely was able to hear loud shouting and was that guns going off? It was so hard to hear in this pesky tube.

Then a voice, “Royal, we need to get these out of here now. Arachne, go help Love Bite. Gale, clear the path for us.”

Venom didn’t recognize these voices… Interesting… They didn’t sound like their typical scientist. He moved more in his tube, maybe he can get one of their attention… Maybe he could-

A loud explosion went off right beside his tube. It appears that that explosion shattered his tube… How nice of them. And that his tube was the only one to shatter. As he leaned out of the glass he saw men rushing around. He heard his fellow people telling him to help them. Screw them. Not like he needs their help. Not like they had helped him before.

So he ignored them and crawled along the ground, he needs a host quickly. He can already feel the effects of these stupid planets elements taking hold of him and shutting down his body. Quick. Quick. Quick. Host. Need host.

Ah, this weakling will do. He went to the back corner human where it wouldn’t draw attention and quickly climbed up his leg. A grin just happened upon his face as he stuck onto the human's chest, he could feel the petty human's heart beating rapidly. He could hear it setting off its gun. And as he took it over he could hear it scream for help but over the chaos of the fighting, nobody batted an eye.

Aw… It’s kinda cute when it screams like this. Maybe he can have fun with this host?

Wait nope. As he took it over he could feel this host was practically useless. It wasn’t going to last long at all… Petty. Oh well, there goes that fun.

They stood up pointing their guns at…colorful humans? What the fuck was going on? There were human sticking to the ceiling and climbing the walls, even some slinging some sticky substance by the looks of it… Okay, this planet was way weirder than he originally thought.

Not like he cares though.

Quickly he turned around hoping for an exit. Ha! There it is. There’s no point in staying here it doesn’t concern him why take some pesky risk right?

So he ran towards it trying to make it seem like this human was scared for his life and was running with its tail between his legs. Hopefully, he was a good enough actor and… Yep, he was. Out he went into a hallway then another hallway. Where the fuck is outside?? Humans are so stupid sometimes with their elaborate buildings and pretty shiny things. How these dumb creatures managed to get to his planet he will never know.

After what felt like minutes of just running through hallways the yelling and guns shouting still echoing all the way down to him he was getting tired of this.

Jump.

Shielding the host he jumped out the window, down five stories building. Which was nothing for him mind you, he can go down more, but as he was he looked out and marveled on the city’s bright lights.

Well even though all he’s come to know about this planet is the pain he’s gonna admit these humans know how to make something look pretty. Pitty that this planet might end soon by what he’s heard. Why would creatures who lives on their own planet kill its own home? That's just stupid.

But yet again doesn’t concern him. All he needs is a way back home.

When he landed in an alleyway he looked around growling under his breath. He spotted a…4 legged creature looking up at him with fear in its eyes. It was furry with a long tail and boy does it look tasty.

In a moment he lunged forward and in another, the furry thing disappeared and he was licking his lips. Meh, not as tasty as he would have hoped oh well. Just another disappointment.

Alright. Step one, find a more suitable host.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

Dolion kept mumbling under his breath as he ran down the street. A piece of toast was in his mouth as he checked his phone. Yep totally late to this meeting. Fuck. Fuck. What great first impression this was.

This was all Remy’s fault. He just had to insist on staying over at his place last night. And Picani wasn’t any help, in fact, he only helped Remy in making sure he stayed. Though they did it with good intentions, after all, they wanted to see what he was going to wear in his interview and make sure he looked okay before leaving. And had wanted him to relax a bit beforehand. Yeah, they were pretty nice boyfriends. And yeah he does appreciate their help. And yeah he does love them, don’t tell them he said that though he will never hear the end of it.

Truthfully they did need some time to relax. It was hard finding the time to spend with each other. What with Remy going to his university plus his super heroing taking up literally all his time. And Picani also going to classes and trying to get his job and dealing with his bull shit father all in the midst of things. Dolion was also trying to get a job while holding on to his part-time classes they literally had no time together anymore.

Luckily it wasn’t affecting their relationship at all but he knew it was a matter of time. Just like all his other relationships right? They will get tired of him eventually and move on. Could he really blame them though? Between his speech deformity of only speaking lies and the fact that he honestly looks ugly, it’s a surprise that they’ve stuck around this long. It’s only a matter of time…

Something caught his eye though as he ran past an alleyway. Something dark moving in the shadows. But it wasn’t somebody or some animal no from what Dolion could see it looked…sludge like? Now, this is the city man for all he knows this is some government project or some alien. Really he shouldn’t go poking a stick at it…

Nah, he’s gonna poke a stick at it. If it is some project or alien he knows that Remy would be delighted to see it, less work on his part. And they will have more time together, right? Or at least he hopes so.

So yeah he slowly approached it grabbing a piece of trash by the garbage can as he continued to munch his toast. This is way more interesting than some stupid interview anyways.

He jumped a bit as the thing moved towards him.

“Woah there…”

It was definitely sludge like what the heck is it? How is it moving? It seemed to have a mind of its own as it moves side to side as if it was looking for something…

“Hey, there big guy… What ya up to?”

The sludge got even closer as he talked his breath quickened as it kept getting closer and closer. Okay, it’s getting way too close for comfort now. The boy kept backing up away from it but it would only go faster towards him. Trying not to scream he threw some of the garbage at it only for it to get agitated by the looks of it.

Then it jumped at him. Screaming he tried to run away from it smacking and throwing his hands up to block it from his face. He watched helplessly as it went through his fingers and went towards his mouth. All he could do was scream and hope Remy or the others will hear him? No that was a fat chance they were properly clear across the city by now.

His breaths came in whooping gasps as he could feel it dissolve inside him. He felt it go down his throat and into his body. It felt exactly like sludge was inside his skin, was pouring into his organs and blood. The pain as it went through him was unimaginable it was almost like swallowing lava or nails. It was burning but soothing almost at the same time. All he could do was whimper and cry as he laid on the ground hoping he will pass out soon.

Then just like that the unbearable pain stopped. But still his body won’t stop shaking, still he felt heat pouring down his face in waves, still, he couldn’t move. His entire body hurt.

“Hey… dude your alright? I uh…”

Even though he felt his body rise up and his hands move he didn’t have any control over it. It felt like he was a puppet and somebody else was moving his strings. He was still crying and breathing heavily as he turned towards the young male.

In a split second, he lunged forward and pinned the boy down into the ground. His tears were on the boy's face as he tried to move his own body off him.

Then a sudden voice sounded in his head, a burst of laughter, as darkness took over half his vision.

Fangs prodded from his own teeth, dark sludge covered his entire body up to his one eye, he could tell the sludge was smiling. He could tell what the sludge was thinking just before he did it. And he wailed loudly as the thing ripped into him.

Dolion shakily walked up the stairs to his apartment hoping beyond hope that nobody will stop him. And that he won’t throw up in the process. Everything was spinning and tilting. His stomach was doing backflips. He could tell he was still crying and his breathing won’t calm down. His own chest felt like it was collapsing on itself. Everything was blurry… Why was it so hot out? It’s winter shouldn’t it be freezing??

With panting breaths, he sighed in relief as he made it to his room. Very shakily he dug in his pocket for his keys, he had to lean on the wall for support as he did so for he knew if he didn’t he was going to fall. Gulping he managed to bring it out and he almost dropped the keys before he could find the right one, which was difficult all on its own. Thankfully it wasn’t that hard to shove the key in the door. He all but practically fell in his apartment clumsily closing the door behind him and making his way to the couch.

Maybe he’s just sick... Yeah… He’s got the flu and that was just a dream… Maybe this entire thing is a dream… Maybe he just has to sleep it off… That sounds about right…

Within moments he was out like a light not even bothering to take off his sweaty clothes or lock the door…

“D? Hey Dee are you okay? Dee, can you wake up for me?”

Somebody's voice… Somebody… Who was it again? Wait it sounded familiar…

Emile right? That sounded right…

Slowly he opened his eyes to find a blurry concerned gaze of his boyfriend staring down at him. Dolion could feel a cool hand pressed against his cheek. That did feel nice… Mumbling something intangible under his breath he tried moving but found yet again that he couldn’t.

“There’s my Dee. Your burning up babe.”

Dolion mumbled something yet again. Before he could even warn Picani it felt like something took a hold of his body again. No. No. No, please…

Suddenly he stood up knocking Emile off him and almost causing him to smack his head against the coffee table. With wide eyes, he looked up to him, “Dee! Are you alright Dee? Hey speak to me I don’t like the-”

Dolion's hand shot out, but it couldn’t be his hand, he wasn’t moving it, it gripped onto Picani's neck. Within a moment he was squeezing Emile's neck even raising him in the air, effortlessly. The painful fearful look in his boyfriend's eyes wanted him to throw up right there. He could feel Picani shaking under his hand, he could feel his gripping on and trying to tear his grip from his neck as much as possible. There were tears in his eyes.

“D-Dee… Wh-What's…”

“No… Please… S-Stop…” Dolion managed to mumble out through his own tears leaking out of his eyes. Anything but Emile… Please…

“If you say so…”

A grinding voice in his head said.

As Dolion was processing the fact that he just heard a voice in his head his hand gripped onto Picani tighter and with one swing threw him against the brick wall of his apartment. He heard a sickening crack of Picani's leg and arm being broken and it made Dolion cry harder. He’s doing this right? He’s hurting his own boyfriend. Oh god, what’s wrong with him…

Picani fell to the ground and didn’t get up, he must be unconscious.

“Don’t know why you care so much about it. Weakling is what he is.”

Dolion could only watch helplessly as he walked out of the apartment he tried to scream to Picani to help him, he tried to stop his own body from moving, but nothing worked. It seemed only pleading would work with this creature. All he had control of was his shaking and crying as they walked out of the building and into the streets.

“I-I am…so sorry E-Em…”

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

What do you think the odds are that morphing drastically increases the lifespan of the morpher? IIRC demorphing is based on returning to the DNA of a specific moment and helped by your thoughts on what you should look like/willing yourself to feel like yourself - are the Animorphs all de-aging every time they do it? (Do we even hear that they've aged physically at any point?) Basically I can't get the idea of them being functionally immortal out of my head. Because they need more angst, clearly.

[If you want angst, then here’s my own hypothesis about how morphing is likely to affect the user long-term.]

• They’re forty-six years old.  Technically Rachel’s forty-seven, and Marco three days out from forty-five.  They’re businesspeople.  They’re parents.  They’re adults.  They have knee replacements and 401k accounts.

They are still, Marco points out, too young to be dealing with this shit.  Too young by half.

• Jake was just trying to figure out how to break the news, when Marco called.  All mockery and self-deprecation on the surface, all graves and church doors and plagues on houses, Marco took almost an hour to spit it out.  Melanoma.  Metastasis.  Fuck you.

• It’s a new technology, Ax explains to them, almost apologetically.  The first-ever generation of andalite morphers is only about seventy to eighty human years old, and with a two-century lifespan no one can say for sure how the ones who aren’t nothlits or dead already will turn out.  It’s a new technology, and one never intended for human use.  No one could have foreseen this.

This being Cassie’s doctor calling her to come back in for additional testing, STAT, after that mid-year checkup just because she has been feeling tired all the time.

This being the anger in Rachel’s voice as she demanded: “What do you mean, swollen lymph nodes?”

This being doctors shrugging, sighing, apologizing.

This being the way that the tumors grow back faster and larger, if you morph to try and fix them.

• Cassie goes home.  She hugs each of her children, tells them why she’s retiring effective tomorrow, and smiles through tears when all three of them take leaves of absence as well.  They spend a crazy, stressful, unforgettable eighteen months wandering the world.  They fetch up in a hospice center outside Lagos.  They say goodbye.  They love each other.  Cassie’s a little vague around the edges, when the drugs start kicking in, which is what she blames for not only ordering Ronnie to remarry but compiling a whole list of suggestions for replacement spouses that range from the practical to the absurd.

• Jake says “screw you” when the President suggests that he retire as well.  He gets up.  He goes to work.  He teaches this last batch of recruits how to keep themselves and their friends and the civilians alive.  He teaches his successor how to be patient with mistakes and unforgiving with carelessness, how to offer out praise when it’s deserved and not shirk on criticism.

He calls his former students, every single one of them, one by one.  Over half manage to align schedules long enough to join him for a beer, or a walk, or a couple hours sitting around a boring hospital room.  They tell him about their kids and their battle scars.  They offer the strictly-classified versions of missions that leave Jake laughing hard enough to fall off his chair, or holding their hands in his as they cry.

Ray has cancer.  So does Idara.  Kuan-yu and Skye and Devina too.  They keep each other company, they bitch about chemo together, they rack up new battle scars along surgical lines.

It’s an act of forgiveness for himself, to learn about the legacy he’s leaving behind.  One which has nothing to do with the statue in D.C. or the Medal of Honor in the footlocker at home.

• Tobias doesn’t say anything at all.  He doesn’t respond to Cassie’s requests to at least swing by and see what her mom has to say.  He doesn’t share much of anything when Ax, when Loren, when his grandparents all stop in to see how he’s doing.  He and Rachel talk all day about ordinary things.  They don’t plan on not planning it, but somehow or other they never get around to making wills or even having a proper discussion with their daughter about what it all means.

Tobias disappears, one day, as if he was never there.  The others all search, of course, but they’re not really surprised to find nothing.  The woods are vast.  The body is small.  He’d be happier, to know his meat and bones helped keep a fellow predator alive for one more desperate day.

Rachel’s already one of the biggest and baddest fighters in the National Guard.  But after this she goes off the rails, morphing and fighting and morphing and fighting, rushing from one mission to the next, never staying in her failing human body for a second longer than necessary.  Six months later, she gets her wish: she dies in battle against a group of Neo-Humanist terrorists outside of Peoria.

Jordan thinks that she hates her sister, just a little, as she half-carries her sobbing niece out of their second funeral in less than a year.

• The cells of the human body divide, Ax explains.  He wants it to mean something.  They divide, and they warp, and they distort.  They form new shapes, take on new configurations, they pass through singularities and achieve impossibilities.

Eventually, given time, they get a little too good at dividing.  At warping.  At making themselves, out of control.

• Ax risks court-martial for punching a commander in the face for suggesting that this all the proof they need that humans were never meant to morph.  Punching.  Such a human gesture.  He had a tail right there, and yet… And yet he did what Marco would have done.

• Marco’s fans raise two and a half billion dollars for research.  They donate eight livers, none of which Marco ends up using when he could instead give them away.  They start a foundation in his name.  They donate time, DNA, wristbands, bone marrow.  It’s silly, he thinks, that all it took was putting a face on this disease for half the planet to start emptying their pockets toward its end.

• Jake learns to swallow poison and shave his head.  Cassie learns to retract her life down to that which is most precious and essential.  Marco learns what it is to live without even the possibility of morphing, after they custom-build him a new body and help him move in forever.  Jordan learns how to treasure her niece, treasure her memories, treasure her own time.

• Ax brings them up constantly, even decades after they’re all gone.  Be better, he insists to his arisths and officers and researchers.  Do better.  For them.  They ended a war for us.  They changed how we think about ourselves, and the universe in which we live.  Respect them, by respecting the aliens we’ve never met.  Honor them, by learning to give our technology away.  Remember them, by building a better future in their name. 

[takaraphoenix]

Give me villains who actually care.

Not... Not about the hero, obviously, but their own people.

I am so tired of the whole “The Big Bad only cares about themselves”-spiel. All those endgame villains who care so little, they just straight-up murder their own minions when they don’t perform accordingly - which is even more stupid considering that at the very least those could be cannon fodder.

But this unnecessary demonization of all villains is really exhausting.

To be a Bad Guy, the villain absolutely has to care about nothing. Peak of that are of course the villains who don’t even care about destroying the fucking planet that they live on like that bears not even a lick of logic.

That most Big Bads don’t care about anyone though is so stupid. No lover, no friends, no family, no one in their own organization.

This idea that you are either a 100% Good Guy, meaning you have love and family and friends, or you are a 100% Bad Guy and care about no one and nothing but yourself and your goal.

Why?

Why shouldn’t the villain have a significant other? Parents? Children maybe even? How about friends? Why would friendship be something solemnly reserved to the good guys? Why would a Bad Guy have absolutely no regard for any human life at all, why should they not have people they cared about?

Because seriously? I find those villains far more impressive. The ones that do care. The ones that do have a human side.

Sure, dehumanizing them and demonizing them makes it easier to super hate them and alienate them from what the audience is, but that’s just... wrong.

Even bad people have good emotions. Even the worst kind of people make friends, granted with other bad people but still.

I think it’s this idea that if they are capable of love, they can’t be 100% bad. And I mean. Yeah. 100% pure evil is kind of hard to archieve??

But it’s a far more effective villain if you do show that there is a part of them that is like other people. I find those villains far more scary. Because they appear like real actual human beings.

And that’s kind of the point. Even the worst of humanity, even Nazis and racists and homophobes, have... families and friends and loved ones. That... doesn’t make them any less of a Nazi, racist or homophobe though. And I feel like that’s the point that many writers in TV and movies are missing? That just because a villain is scum and hates something/someone doesn’t mean they can’t be capable of love for something else; that only makes it even scarier.

It’s insanely unrealistic to me, to always only see those villains who just... don’t give a shit about anyone but themselves.

I want a villain who does love his family. Like Wilson Fisk. Part of what made Into the Spider-Verse so good was the compelling villain. He’s a bastard asshole and completely ruthless, but his motivation is his incredibly deep love for his wife and family. That’s why I loved him in Daredevil already - because he genuinely loved Vanessa.

Or, say, One Piece that I’m currently watching. Seeing Doflamingo enslave and slaughter all those innocent people, but turn deadly serious and protective over his own crew because they are his chosen family.

The current anime I discovered for myself, Black Clover, has such a case too. Licht is the bad guy and while his motivation seems compelling, he’s still the bad guy - but his minions are bound to him out of pure, family-like loyalty. They are very clearly batshit crazy, but they genuinely seem to care about each other.

That is fascinating. It is incredibly compelling. It doesn’t make you accidentally mix up who to root for just because they are capable of love (I feel like that’s the main concern of Hollywood?), but it makes the whole thing way more dynamic, it makes the villains far more layered and interesting and it also makes the motivation of their minions clear.

Way too often, you gotta... seriously take a step back and realistically evaluate “Why would these people be rooting for that bad guy? Why are they siding with this person?”. And if the only answer you come up with is “Uh, plot??”, then you failed, clearly.

If your minions’ motivation is that they see the way the Big Bad is with his close inner circle and are hoping to gain that kind of favor too; that is a compelling argument.

It’s why Magneto is the most compelling villain I’ve ever seen. His motivation is very clear, the motivation of those following him is also very clear. He doesn’t just discard of his fellow brotherhood members. He actually cares, he cares about the fate of the mutants he is trying to protect, in his own way. He stands for something. (Honestly, in this world and with the motivations set, I’ve always been more Team Magneto than Team X-Men, so let’s maybe cut this shorter...)

Even if you don’t write as solid a motivation for your villain, even if your villain’s motivation simply is world-domination, they could still care.

It just... It makes the entire damn thing more compelling. Not just your Big Bad and his minions, but the entire story.

I really don’t understand why we can’t have more humanized villains who care about their own inner circle more closely. It doesn’t have to mean that they have to care about all humans, that’s not how that works. Being capable of love does not necessarily mean that you have to be a good person. It just means that you’re human.

And there’s nothing scarier than an actual human villain.

Stop unnecessarily demonizing them. It makes them far more boring and far less compelling. Humanize them. Show that even in the worst, there is still a very human core. Show that something every viewer knows is inside those villains. Because that’s far more scary and far more compelling and far more engaging.

[suzahmoon]

Unpublished - On Don Hertzfeldt’s film, ‘World of Tomorrow’

Maybe it was the timing of when I watched World of Tomorrow, in an IFC movie theater set up for thirty but filled with one, forcing me to feel incredibly alone while I watched it but with a sense of “together-alone” because that’s all we are, alone together. But that doesn’t change the fact that no matter where or when you watch this film, it’s ability to reach its viewer is more than likely to be strong. It’s classic Hertzfeldt in that way, bold and persistent, slightly in your face but always genuine. It might make you uncomfortable if “about life” movies aren’t your thing, but it’s short, smartly timed, and comedically light hearted enough to balance out the heaviness of its subject matter. Really, the four-year old voice makes all the difference. Watch it on Vimeo for a $3.99 rental or on Netflix where it’s streaming free if you’re not paying for your own account. Or you could look it up illegally but it could fuck up your computer, and I’m just saying that because that happened to me once. However you watch it, I hope you do. It’s a movie that lingers with you for days and at random moments when you think you’ve forgotten about it, but that’s because it’s a movie about living. There’s only so much we can forget before it forces us to stop ourselves.

If you’ve seen any of Don Hertzfeldt’s work before, the first thing you probably saw was Billy’s Balloon. Small children are attacked by balloons. Or if you didn’t see that, maybe you saw one of his shorts from Rejected or maybe even all of them: a collection of poorly made shorts that are rejected by advertising agencies. They all suck from a marketing perspective since belittling a company you want to work for’s product won’t get you the job, much less sell the product, but that’s the point. Hertzfeldt’s work is characterized by black humor, surrealism, absurdist ideas, and the bigger philosophical ideas, the “why are we here and where am I going?” concepts. It’s all told through an old school 16 mm lens shooting stick figure drawing after stick figure drawing, a style that’s characterized Hertzfeldt’s animations and made his stories reach an international audience. I never would have thought drawing the stuff we were told would not pass as human anatomy would be so globally effective, but I guess that’s why I like it.

World of Tomorrow is Hertzfeldt’s most recent work to date. It’s a 17-minute animation that’s an upgrade from his stop-motion shorts of yesterday with their digital production and dreamy watercolor backdrops. His trademark stick figure characters are still there, voiced by illustrator Julia Pott and his then-four-year old niece. It features a young girl named Emily and her third-generation clone from the future, making World of Tomorrow Hertzfeldt’s first sci-fi film. You could argue his last feature It’s Such a Beautiful Day was actually his first sci-fi, with its touches on questions of time, space, illusion, and reality, but World of Tomorrow is much more direct in its approach. It explores topics of time travel, the limitations of human invention, and artificial versus actual flesh and bone human life, told with the juxtaposition of a robotic British clone’s voice against a young girl’s lively one. The film is full of juxtapositions, and that’s why it works. It’s a film about things adults like to think about and read books on, and college students go ham writing thesis papers on, but it’s told in the most elementary way possible to someone who has no idea what the big fuss is about.

In Emily Clone telling the young Emily we call Emily Prime why she’s coming to visit her, she explains the big answer to questions of human continuation and preservation. According to her, there are other planets involved, robots, and memory encapsulation. Emily Clone falls in love with different objects and things before falling in love with a fellow clone until he dies. “You missed him,” Emily Prime innocently observes. Emily Clone blinks, and moves on. Despite all of these futuristic advancements, it’s clear that what Hertzfeldt is trying to say is that the value of being human never changes. To feel, fall in love, and experience loneliness never go away, and it’s these things that make us painfully, beautifully human. Time is of the essence, and we shouldn’t worry ourselves over petty or trivial matters, she tells Emily Prime, but she’s really talking to all of us, as Hertzfeldt always is.

[bpellerin]

Sociopathy properly understood

Currently ("currently" here is a word meaning "sometime near the middle of January 2019" so yeah I'm slow to post) reading yet another Brené Brown book, this one called Braving the Wilderness, and like her other books it's about belonging and vulnerability and how we don't need the first as much as we think but very much require the second and -- wait, I've got that wrong.

We do need belonging, but not the way you'd normally think of that word. Not in the usual sense of trying to fit in with a group, or being accepted into an existing society of fellows unless they're secretly a bunch of annoying but well-connected jerks.

Or, in her case, to be accepted into the cheerleading team back in high school.

Me, it was both being accepted by the cool kids but also making it and being accepted as a musician despite hailing from a different social-economic background than most mainstream pianists. I was an ordinary kid from the grubby suburbs. You know the place other people always made fun of? I lived there. We were the Newfoundland of suburbs. The kids who participated in the music contests weren’t necessarily richer than us, though they probably had a bit more discretionary spending at their disposal than I did. But they lived in Sillery or Ste-Foy, the nice areas we couldn't or wouldn't afford. Either way it wasn’t my fault where my parents had chosen to live. But I got punished because of it regardless by being sneered at and never accepted into the group. The other pianists were polished and sophisticated, something I’ve never felt. 

No, not even now.

I was always a bit raw. I do appreciate that my physical features allow me to clean up alright. I can walk in heels, and evening gowns don't look comical on my frame. I used to make a living in television, dammit. I can make myself look good and polished. But it’s not me.

Me is feeling comfortable in an ugly old fleece because it’s minus stupid outside and jeez, you know. It’s having my hair in a ponytail because I’m training twice today and why bother doing anything else with it? It's a mess of frizzes when I try too hard, and the blow dryer makes me sweat. Makeup is just stupid. Why not spend the time and money eating well and exercising instead? Oh sure, when you need to make a super duper impression under very bright lights like that time they asked you to be on the cover of Time magazine, go ahead. The point is not to look natural when natural means "slightly dead-looking". The point is to be natural and to let others see you that way. IRL, like the kids say. A little touch of blush here and there, if you insist, alright. But come now. Blue on the eyelids? On what creature is this normal? 

Your face tells the story of your life, and it's the one you should be wearing instead of hiding behind three layers of concealer and whatever they call that powder that sits on top and makes your face feel like a slightly overgreased pancake. Let yourself be seen, even if the story of your life includes episodes you'd rather not think about just now thanks very much. That's what gives your expression depth and meaning. Wear it with pride, and to hell what Cosmo says. 

So anyway, to make a long story short(er), I don't spend too much time polishing my exterior shell. It's clean and tidy, and I wear clothes that don't make me uncomfortable by their cut or poor tailoring, but that's about it. 

Back to Brené Brown. She starts the book with a quotation from Maya Angelou (I really need to read everything this woman wrote, too) about the freedom that comes from belonging only to oneself. Brown used to disagree with that quote pretty strongly, but now she gets it.

Funny, because I got it right away.

"You are only free when you realize you belong no place - you belong every place - no place at all. The price is high. The reward is great." That's how Angelou said it in a TV interview back in the early 1970s. 

I say I got the point of the quote right away, but that's only if you start counting from a few months back. If you start counting from when I came out of the womb or, if we're going to be generous, from when I came of age, er. I took a bit longer. 

I have spent a lifetime and a half struggling to belong. In a family that didn't feel like one. In a school where I either got ignored or bullied. At jobs I cared about so much I alienated everyone else by trying to win everything and beat every record. In relationships I killed with way too much attention and subservience. I would bend over backwards so many times I had no idea what time zone I was in anymore. That's how far I'd go to fit in and be accepted. Because that's what I thought one needed to be happy; to fit in with the cool kids and be accepted as one of their own. 

It was only recently, in the last year or so, that I discovered that sometimes the best way to be the best you can be is to stop giving a fuck what people think or feel. I'm 48 now. It's been a long trek going the wrong way trying to achieve goals that wouldn't make me happy if I succeeded not that I had any chance of doing so. 

Shit. 

So now I'm learning to be a bit of a sociopath. Not the kind the police need to worry about, obviously. But the kind that motors through life not paying too much attention to what other people think or say. 

By the nature of my work I often wind up pissing people off. I have strong opinions about topics people care about. Like Donald Trump and his terminally ugly band of supporters. Or institutional daycare for babies under the age of two. (Not sure which one I despise more.) I'm also not keen at all on the segregation of humans; I don't understand why we park kids in their own buildings while older folks get dumped in retirement homes full of other old people. Why not mix them up, like they do in some European places where they give highly reduced rent to college students in old folks homes in exchange for them mingling with regular residents and performing odd jobs for them, like helping them write letters or just spend time chatting over tea. When I talk about this I often get a wallop on Twitter to the effect that in this busy day and age nobody has time for this sort of stuff anymore and come on, be realistic and stop dreaming in technicolour. 

But I like technicolour. 

I'm happy to have others who like technicolour as much as I do to hop on my merry wagon and travel along with me. I'm also OK with people reading my stuff just to argue with me - though I would be eternally grateful if they actually did try to understand what I was saying before they started shouting. That'd be real nice. But I don't need it, and I certainly don’t need them. 

Any of them. I don't write for an audience. I write for me. I'm delighted to have an audience. But it comes after the work, not before. 

That's the hardest part of trying to belong by not trying to belong, to be perfectly honest about it. Most of us who enjoy the work we do also enjoy feedback about same, especially if it's positive. But sometimes negative feedback is enjoyable too, if it makes you better at the work you already enjoy doing. (Pain to the ego is usually temporary. Right?) 

Not having feedback on the work I do because it's not out there yet, wow, that's hard. Years of daily blogging have made me very dependent on visitor statistics and other social-media metrics for validation. Love or hate my stuff, whatever I don’t care, but at least engage with it. That way I'll know I've done something alright. 

But all this stuff I've been writing these past few months that's sitting quietly in my files waiting to be edited and submitted somewhere? I have no feedback on that. And frankly at the moment it's kind of OK, because the truth is I'm scared shitless of what the feedback would be if there was any. I mean, what if my fiction is no good? What if it sucks? Worse, what if it doesn't suck enough to be interesting in its suckiness? What if it's just, gasp, boring? 

To say this feeling makes me anxious would be a fine understatement. But somehow I have to put that anxiety aside and keep plugging away and not - repeat, NOT - sneak out to the megaplex and watch something explode on screen while I stuff popcorn into my maw. (Mymaw, a popcorn mymaw, popcorn mama, can't stop thinking of possibilities. I have issues.) 

No. I have to keep plugging away, doing the work I was put on this planet to do. And do it for me, like a proper sociopath should. 

[nickireadstfc]

The King’s Men, Chapter 16 – A Team Of Particularly Good Finders

In which I find a new favourite team, Kevin’s angrier half makes an entrance, I find a new favourite team, keys are distributed, faceclaims are suggested, and I find a new favourite team.

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to read The King’s Men.

             Saturday morning Wymack stopped by Fox Tower with a guest. (…)

             “Thea,” Kevin finally said, and scrambled to his feet. “What are you doing here?”

Oh HECK YES.

I’ve been waiting for this gal ever since she was first mentioned, and my dudes my pals my homies, let me tell you – her presence does not disappoint.

Thea Muldani is big and buff and bench-presses male egos for breakfast, but also wears pastel makeup, braids and dresses like Beyoncé herself gave her fashion advice.

A certified Boss Ass Bitch, you say? Absolutely.

A definite, definite Venus Williams faceclaim, you say?

Alternatively also Serena Williams?

Absolutely.

Like Kevin, Thea also left the Ravens, but she seems to have quite a different relationship to them than he does.

             Even though Thea graduated from Edgar Allan almost three years ago she still wore her Raven jersey number on a pendant around her throat.

Interesting.

Neil then wonders how ex-Ravens fare out there in the Real World, and he voices my thoughts precisely: Do they recover? Do they hang on? And if they do, is it because they’re broken, or out of choice?

This is Interesting Shit that I am very, very much intrigued to know more about. Since I’m not sure we’ll have quite enough time to get into this in what’s left of this book, if anyone has any fic recs dealing with this (= post-Raven recovery), hit me the hell up.

However sadly, Thea is not here to answer my deep psychological musings, and is instead very much here to tear Kevin a new one.

Or five.

             “I always wanted to talk, but it was complicated.”

             “’Complicated’,” Thea echoed. The air quotes she threw him were angry and mocking. “’Complicated’ is having to find out from a press conference that you broke your hand and left the line-up. ‘Complicated’ is finding out the hard way you disconnected your old number and having to hear from Jean that you didn’t want anything to do with any of us effective immediately. Don’t you dare use ‘complicated’ against me. I deserve better than that.”

OH SHIT.

Exy Venus Williams is mad, y’all – and completely in the right, because Kevin, you done fucked up.

Anyone who figuratively leaves his girlfriend on ‘read’ for two years deserves to have the shit bitched out of them publicly.

However, Kevin has a magic trick to at least somewhat calm his angrier half down:

Fellow ex-Raven and resident human ground beef Jean Valjean Moreau.

They go see him, but like puppies left out in the rain we don’t get to go with, which is a damn shame because I’m getting increasingly interested in how our favourite baguette is going to continue his trauma-filled existence.

             “You assume [Nicky] will survive until summer [because he’s annoying the hell out of Andrew with his Andreil shipping],” Andrew said.

             “You break him, you owe me a new defenseman,” Wymack said.

Bahahahaha.

Found this chapter’s #dicksoutforwymack, that line was gold, small as it was.

             “You have one at Abby’s house.”

DAMN RIGHT. Anyone up for some Fox!Jean? Yes? Yes?

Apparently, not Kevin and Jean, who have irreparably damages their athletic compatibility at the Batcave of Extra, so Fox!Jean is a thing we may have to keep to fanfic.

Again – a damn shame.

What is decidedly not a damn shame is that Wymack has a lil something for Andrew, and when I found out what it was I may or may not have shed a lil tear of pride.

             Keys jangled as they hit the carpet, and Neil stared in disbelief. He couldn’t be right, except last summer Wymack had given Neil three new keys, too: a set for all the important doors at the Foxhole Court. (…) “Kevin said to give you those.”

KEVIN IS TRUSTING ANDREW WITH STADIUM KEYS.

KEVIN IS EXPLICITLY INVITING ANDREW TO COME PRACTICE WHENEVER AND UNSUPERVISED.

KEVIN IS STARTING TO BELIEVE IN ANDREW’S FUTURE AS A PROFESSIONAL SPORTSBALL PLAYER EVEN IF ANDREW MAY NOT BE.

KEVIN IS TRUSTING ANDREW WITH STADIUM KEYS.

KEYS!!!!!!!!!!

This has got to be the fourth or fifth time this series has made me emotional about fucking keys, what in the absolute fuck.

             [Neil’s] heart was pounding. (…) He thought about fighting for a spot on the US Court and facing the best the world had to offer, Kevin at his side and Andrew at his back.

When will the Kandreil feels end, my money is on fucking never.

With this preliminary banter done, we move on to what’s really important in this chapter:

The first NCAA Exy championship semi-final; University of Southern California Trojans vs Palmetto State University Foxes.

Or, as I like to call it – USC Hufflepuffs vs Kevin Day’s Boner.

So much has been promised about this team, their human sunshine of a captain and their infamous Too Good For This World cinnamon roll-ness, I was buzzing in my seat waiting to get to know them.

             “[Think] about what you’re going to say in pre-game.” (…)

             “How about ‘We’re gonna own these lowers’?” Nicky suggested.

             “And that’s why you’re not allowed to talk to the press,” Matt said dryly.

Bahahahaha.

Nicky, my boy, never change. <3

However, I immediately opposed any ‘loser’ insults as I finally, finally met –

The one, the only, captain of Trojans, idol of Kevin Days everywhere, the OG Cinnamon Roll™ – Jeremy Fucking Knox.

             “Kevin, you crazy fool,” he said, less formally, and clapped Kevin’s shoulder in a cheery greeting. “You never cease to amaze. You’ve got a thing for controversial teams, I think, but I like this one much better than the last one.”

Hi, marry me.

Again with the characterizations through first lines in this book, aye? Pretty sure this guy is the only one in the entire world who could bro-hug Kevin, call him a crazy fool to his face, and come away with his nose unbroken.

(He says a little bit towards Wymack before that, but we’re gonna ignore that for the meme.)

But apparently, Jeremy is not the only one who gets to say unexpected things right now.

             [Kevin] only said, “I have a backliner for you. Do you have room on next year’s line-up?”

… Does this mean what I think it means.

I THINK IT DOES.

I THINK IT FUCKING DOES.

My dudes, let me tell you, my ass is HERE for Trojan!Jean. Trojean. TROJEAN.

Seriously, if you want someone with a trauma caused by abusive competitive toxic teammates to recover, a team that’s known for being the friendliest, kindest and fairest motherfuckers on the planet is pretty much the absolute Way To Go.

Operation Trojean is the best rehab anyone has ever thought of, ever, and I will hear no other opinions on this.

I was already enjoying this tremendously, good things all around, how much better could it be – when Sunshine Boy decided to pull something so spectacularly Hufflepuff that I swear to fuck I heard badgers singing.

Y’all are not ready.

I was not ready.

             “Our line-up,” Jeremy explained. “It’s late to be getting it to you, I know, but we were trying to avoid as much of the backlash as possible.”

Why, what’s happ–

             “Two goalies, three backliners, two dealers, two strikers,” Jeremy said. “You’ve made it this far with those numbers. It’s time to see how we’d fare in that situation.”

WHAT

THE

FUCK.

You have got to be kidding me, Sunshine Boy.

You are giving up your gigantic team, your sure-as-life win, your One Big Strength – just because it’s fair? And because you want to learn from your opponents more than you want to win?

I’m out. This is too much. This team is TOO FUCKING MUCH.

             “You’ll lose tonight if you play like this.”

             “Maybe,” Jeremy agreed, unconcerned. “Maybe not. Should be fun either way, right? I don’t remember the last time I was this psyched for a game.”

There is no way in hell I’m not faceclaiming this guy as known Puff Champion Cedric Diggory now.

No. Way. In. Hell.

             Neil finally understood how the USC Trojans had won the Day Spirit Award eight consecutive years.

Bitch, me too, the fuck.

             “I take back what I said about earthquakes,” Nicky said weakly. “I have a new favourite team.”

BITCH, ME TOO, THE FUCK.

And with that, the game is on, and I can’t remember the last time I was so pumped for a good ol’ match of Orange Murder Sportsball.

Despite their Line-Up of Dreams, the Trojans pretty much wipe the floor with the Foxes in the first half, as was to be expected.

But in second half – well, let’s just say I ain’t never seen a badger run a marathon.*

             USC could have taken control of the game in a heartbeat if only they’d rethink their strategy. If they pulled their three subs from the sidelined players the Foxes’ night was over. But the Trojans had made up their mind and they weren’t backing down.

HELL YES.

BECAUSE THEY’RE THE FUCKING FAIREST BEST FUCKING SPORTS IN THIS ENTIRE DAMNED LEAGUE.

(*For the record: Foxes don’t exactly run marathons either – according to the mighty Internet, foxes can run up to 55 km/h and badgers up to 30 km/h, but both only over short distances. A human Trojan would definitely outrun a fox (or a badger) over a long distance. So much for brand accuracy.)

But then! Oh, who would have thought! This is so completely surprising! The Foxes catch their wind on the second half! Amazing, they start to dominate the game! And – and – and it’s a win! Win for the Foxes! WIN FOR THE FOXES!

Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy and excited for them and all, but as if we didn’t absolutely see this coming.

             “Is this what dying feels like?” [Alvarez] asked, and called over her shoulder, “Babe, I think I’m dying. Do I still have legs?”

Things like these make my sports-ignorant ass realize just how hardcore the Foxes playing full halves actually is.

No subs, we die like men.

Also, Alvarez’ “babe” turns out to be Laila Dermott, which makes me love the Trojans even more – and I truly did not think this was possible – because Exy Lesbians.

             “That was fantastic. (…) I want to do it again. Next year, maybe, when my legs grow back.”

             “Stop being such a baby,” Laila said.

This banter is giving me life.

If anyone has any fanart of these two buff buttercups, please send it my way pronto.

             Neil didn’t care how many hearts they broke that night. They’d beaten USC. (…) The Foxes were going to finals, and that was the only thing that mattered.

HEEEEEEEECK YEEEEEEEEES.

Before we move on to post-semi-final celebrations, allow me to gush about the Trojans one last time, and then I promise I’m done melting into a puddle every time one of them so much as speaks.

             “[Jean] will be back in the fall. He just won’t be back in black.” Jeremy flashed his toothy grin. (…) “He’s transferring to USC for his senior year.”

This is one of the best ideas anyone has had in this entire book. Four for you, Trojean, you go, Trojean.

(And none for Riko Moriyama, bye.)

             “We’ll have to get him some sun this summer, though! He’s a little pale to pull of red and gold right now,” Jean laughed.

[To the tune of California Girls] California puffs they’re unforgettable…

Also, in which Jean is #me in summer, all day err’day.

Tanning is for weak people, we sunburn like true Germans.

             Nicky (…) cut the TV off. “I’ve got a theory that Renee and Jeremy are long-lost siblings. What do you think would happen if they ever joined force?”

             “They’d get murdered,” Aaron said. (…) “War’s profitable; no one wants their world-peace nonsense.”

Gee, thanks, you absolute walnut.

For the record, I agree with Nicky, and I’m also counting this as the reason I immediately fell in love with Jeremy.

What can I say – in a world full of Angst, Drama, Angst, Infighting and More Angst, ya girl loves herself some good sunshiney optimists.

As for post-semi-final celebrations, the gang makes good on an old tradition and goes into town for another Fun Night of Debauchery for what I’m assuming is the last time in this series.

To think that a year ago the prospect of this would have made me break out in protective Neil feels, and now I’m actually looking forward to it.

Man, we’ve come far.

Speaking of – Andrew now apparently has no need for cracker dust anymore(!!!), has nothing against being touched in public (!!!!) and doesn’t seem to mind his Bartender Pal Roland calling him out on his Very Much Gay, Very Much Official Relationship (!!!!!).

Man, we’ve come fucking far.

             “How’d you know [about Andrew being gay]?”, [Nicky said.] “Is your gaydar more advanced than mine is or – “ Nicky’s jaw dropped as he clued in. “Wait. No way. No way! Did you two –?”

BAHAHAHA.

LAUGHTER.

BIG FAT LAUGHTER.

Andrew hooked up with Big Intimidating Bartender Pal, this is glorious.

             Neil’s clock was still ticking down, but his numbered days followed a different schedule now. Neil had all the time in the world, and that left a heat in his gut stronger than any whiskey could.

Fuck yes.

Fuck YES.

A very good ending to a very good second to last chapter.

...Oh shit.

Second. To. Last. Chapter.

EVER.

Next chapter will almost conclude this series (I’m told there is a short epilogue, so we’re not quite done). Next chapter will almost conclude this blog, holy shit.

We’ve been following the Orange Hellride that is this series for over a year now (thanks to my giant hiatuses in between, oops). This is insane.

I’ll get all emotional and grateful and weepy in the last chapter and final book recap, so dry eyes over here for now, but y’all – get ready.

This ride is about to end, and knowing this series, we’re about to go out with a fucking bang.

Oh dear.

Before I go - a quick note on the update situation for the last few uploads (meaning chapter 17, epilogue, book recap). This feels almost redundant to say after my schedule has been very loose (soz) these past few chapters anyways, but I will be taking some liberties for the finish line.

This blog has been one of my greatest pride and joys over the last year, and I really wanna stick the landing. This means I'd rather spend an extra day refining than update by hook and by crook. As a loose time estimate – expect the last chapter by the end of the week, possibly earlier.

Let me make this good for you guys. I'm way excited (and scared), and I hope you are too.

Peace and love, y'all.