#how did they even get there? that's the biggest unanswerable question of all!

[sableprince]

was talking about that one buckshot roulette OC template and how i Wouldn't participate because i would never put my critters in such a situation, but someone made a joke about a "dealcrow and a high-stakes game of scrabble" and i thought it was so funny that my commitment to the bit is stronger than my desire to protect my own creatures. i hope you get out of there, pilcrow!

[hard-core-super-star]

Random thought popped into my head but it's about vampire Kate x reader. What if reader was a witch of some sort who got her heart broken because Kate is an fboy and became terrified and left when she realized how much she loved the reader but came crawling back a year later because she needed reader's witchy help and they ended up casually flirting because they clearly still have feelings for each other and stuff

ain't that the kicker [K.Bishop]

pairing: vampire!kate x reader

summary: the morning after your late-night encounter with kate doesn't go quite as planned...and neither does the day after that or the day after that. [aka you and kate have way more issues than you thought]

warnings: none, i think?; did somebody order angst?; so much tension, you need more than one knife; i rob you of a longer wanda scene; cliffhanger ending because this got too long; weird vampire powers that are badly explained; very long dream sequences; a surprising lack of actual vampire stuff [i badly need to rewatch first kill]; idiots in love but emphasis on the idiots!

wodcount: 3.2k

a/n: hey everyone, my motivation was pretty dead for a while but, unsurprisingly, vampire kate brought it back! and before you all freak out, YES! THERE WILL BE ANOTHER PART! and maybe it'll be less sad and more spicy, who knows? anyway, thank you so much for sticking with me and my constant disappearing act. my second year at university is wrapping up so hopefully you’ll see more of me this summer ;) that's all i have to say, hope you enjoy <3

part one | part three | part four

* * * * * * *

Saying going home with Kate Bishop had been a bad idea would be a massive understatement.

You knew being alone with the heir of Bishop Security would come with problems but the problems all seemed relatively small compared to the continuous waves of pleasure you had been under all night.

To be fair, though, you never expected a grainy picture of you on Kate's lap to be part of that list of problems. You had expected some awkwardness from the charming brunette, the usual "we can't do this again" speech while actively making out in some random storage closet, maybe even some weird looks from your co-workers to further complicate things.

Your original plan had featured everything except you going viral overnight and waking up to the biggest PR disaster to ever hit Bishop Security. (Which is saying a lot considering the many one-night stand scandals Kate always finds herself wrapped up in)

You had so many ideas of what the morning after would be like but none of them included you waking up to an empty bed and a large pit in your stomach that tells you you fucked up big time.

Maybe it had been your fault, maybe you had been too naive for thinking you could really have it all.

Or maybe Kate was right. Maybe she had a longer list of enemies than you had been willing to entertain.

There were far too many “maybe’s” in your mind, an overwhelming amount of notifications on your phone, and you had no idea where Kate had gone.

You’re not sure how long you spend scrolling through Twitter and avoiding all the texts filled with unanswerable questions from your co-workers but eventually, you manage to regain control of yourself and get up from the archer’s ridiculously comfortable bed. You do your best to ignore how shaky your legs are as you get dressed, your mind unfortunately drifting to the night before.

You manage to find your way to the kitchen where there's a full spread of, slightly burnt, breakfast waiting for you. Your heart swells as you read the messy handwriting on the post-it note next to the biggest stack of pancakes you’ve ever seen.

Morning, sunshine. I didn’t know what you were in the mood for so I made a bit of everything. Eat as much as you can, you’ll need a lot of food and water to recover from last night ;) - Kate

It’s impossible to stop the wave of relief that crashes into you after reading that.

As impossible as it feels, you allow yourself to believe things will be fine. That Kate will stick by your side after opening up to you about her supernatural abilities.

But the fantasy doesn’t last long.

You’re halfway through your breakfast when you hear the front door slam shut with so much force you briefly wonder if the hinges came off. It takes no more than fifteen seconds for the archer to appear in front of you, her shoulders tense and an unreadable storm in her eyes.

Her posture already tells you the answer to the question forming on your lips but you ask anyway. “Everything okay?”

She seems almost startled by the sound of your voice as if hearing you makes you real.

It makes the mess you’re both in real.

“No,” she sighs. “I have some shitty news.”

“Shittier than being called a slut by all of New York?” You reply, unable to stop the urge to make her smile.

Kate doesn’t fully smile but she does let out a small chuckle, her shoulders dropping into a less tense position as the sound escapes her. “Yeah…shittier than that.”

You should’ve known where the conversation was headed. Should’ve realized there was no way you’d be able to have it all. No way for you to continue with your life as if nothing had happened.

Maybe you are too naive because you truly didn’t see her next sentence coming.

“y/n…I have to fire you and we...we can’t do this again. This has to be goodbye.”

Everything crashes into you at once.

The realization of what you’ve actually done, the stupid ease with which Kate is cutting you out of her life, the betrayal of her practically kicking you out onto the streets. You’re not an idiot, you know there’s no way you’ll be able to keep your apartment, your humble yet expensive life in New York, without your job.

Without her.

“You…you’re serious? You’re throwing me out just like that?”

“It’s not easy for me either-”

“It looks pretty damn easy, Kate.” You scoff.

“You’re not the one who spent her whole morning getting chewed out by her mom.” Her words come out like an afterthought, like she knows just how badly she’ll fuck up if you hear the annoyance behind them.

Unfortunately for her, you hear her loud and clear.

“Oh, come on. That’s your excuse? You had one bad conversation with your mom and suddenly I don’t mean anything?”

She doesn’t reply and her silence only serves to stoke the flames of fury and resentment rising within your chest.

“Do you know how many death threats I’ve gotten in the last hour? How many coworkers have tried to blackmail me already? Do you understand just how much of my life this has ruined? And you have the audacity to act like you have it hard?”

“Don’t pretend like you know anything about my life,” she spits back. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it, Katherine. If I didn’t know you, if you didn’t care, why the hell did you tell me your dirty little secret?”

She blinks, taken aback by the hard-hitting truth you throw her way.

If you didn’t know her, you wouldn’t notice the way she nervously fidgets with her fingers or the way she bites down on her lower lip while she tries to come up with something to say. If you didn’t know her, you wouldn’t know she’s hurting underneath.

You do know her, though, but knowing her isn’t enough if she’s not willing to let you stay.

So, because you do know her…you walk away.

It feels like giving up in the most infuriating of ways but it’s the only thing you can do. If Kate’s mind is made up, there’s no amount of reason that will get her to change. That’s another thing about her you’ve learned the hard way.

So you swallow your pride and walk away with no plan, no job, no way of supporting yourself. If you were a more spiteful person, you would have applied for a job at Stark Industries but instead, you do the second hardest thing you’ve ever done.

You restart.

It’s a bitter defeat and still, you pack up your things and pay an old friend a visit.

You had left Wanda behind after the Westview fiasco but she’s the only person you can think of running to after your entire life went up in flames. All it takes is one quick spell and the realization that a life without dark magic isn’t one you can live before you’re standing on the porch of her small cabin in the middle of nowhere.

Saying she’s disappointed would be an understatement, especially since she explicitly warned you not to fall in love with Kate Bishop. It’s hard to believe the witch knew about Kate’s vampire secret but you also wouldn’t be surprised if she knew what awaited you the second you left for New York.

Unfortunately, you had to learn things the hard way.

You could write multiple books on everything you’ve learned the hard way.

At the top of that list, though, is the true extent of a certain archer’s vampire powers.

It takes less than a month for Kate to reach you again…through your dreams. Dreams that feel far too real and leave you a tad bit more breathless than you’ll ever be willing to admit.

The first time it happens, you assume it’s one of Wanda’s new tricks, maybe it’s her way of helping you cope with what (or rather who) you’ve left behind. You think it’s weird but maybe a tad bit sweet and you make a mental note to ask her about it in the morning.

It’s not until you realize that you’re actively thinking that you start to worry.

To make matters worse, you’re inside Kate’s apartment…and she quite literally stumbles out of her bedroom to see you standing in the middle of her living room.

“Oh, shit.” She groans.

Your heart skips a beat at the sound of her voice. You know you’re just dreaming and yet it all feels so real. It’s like you can feel her eyes on you, hear the way your heart won’t stop pounding in your ears.

Your confusion must be written all over your face because she answers your question before you can even ask it.

“Yes, you are dreaming but this isn’t like a normal dream.”

“What the fuck happened to you not being a mind reader?” You blurt out.

You wait for that stupid smirk of hers to appear, maybe with a half-assed shrug and a semi-charming joke, but it never comes. “My dream, my rules, I guess.”

“That still doesn’t explain what’s going on.”

A beat of silence goes by before she sort of gives you an answer. “I can explain but you might hate me afterwards.”

The look in her eyes says more than you can possibly handle right now. You’ve never known Kate to be particularly insecure but all you can see in those blue depths is fear and insecurity. Fear that your feelings for her have changed, that you already hate her and never want to hear from her again.

Too bad you’ve never been good at lying.

“Try me.”

The corners of her mouth quirk up into a small smile. “Long story short, we’re bonded. That’s why we’re in each other’s dreams.”

There’s a bigger question to be asked but you’re still a little freaked out by how real this all feels. By how intense your feelings for her still are.

“But this isn’t like a normal dream, is it?”

“Nope, perks of having vampire powers.”

“So, you can do everything except read minds?” You can’t help but tease her like all the times before. “That sucks.”

“Shut up,” she says with an over-dramatic roll of her eyes.

A calm silence falls over both of you and you hate how normal it feels. How just like that, you forget your anger and the betrayal you’ve felt every minute since the day you left New York in favor of falling for her stupidly enchanting self all over again.

It doesn’t help that with every second, the distance between you gets smaller and smaller.

You don’t know who takes the first step, all you know is you blink and suddenly she’s standing right in front of you, those soft blue eyes of hers searching for the truth you can’t hide.

“y/n,” she murmurs, her hand tentatively reaching out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry, I know this isn’t what you wanted.”

She’s technically not wrong, leaving because of her incapability to deal with her feelings was the last thing you wanted, but it’s not like you had any other choice.

She didn’t give you any other choice.

And now she’s here, staring at you with that wounded puppy look she so effortlessly embodies.

“I wanted you,” you whisper in response. “When are you going to get that through your thick skull?”

She chuckles, the sound warm but nervous. Her hand moves to cup your face and her touch is so soft, it leaves you breathless for a moment. “Never, I’m too stubborn for that, remember?”

You can’t help but tease her as the atmosphere shifts into something more affectionate than you’d like. “How could I forget? It’s your worst trait.”

“Ouch. Is that how you treat your favorite vampire?”

“Aw, poor little vampire baby.”

You wait for her to make one of her usual jokes but she doesn’t.

Instead, her eyes drift down to your lips and your mind instantly goes blank.

There’s an endless list of reasons why you shouldn’t do it. Just because it’s a dream doesn’t mean it isn’t a bad idea. Then again…when has that ever stopped you from being with Kate Bishop?

It’s subtle but you lean forward just enough to give her the invitation she’s too much of a gentleman to ask for. Her eyes widen the slightest bit before she meets you in the middle, the space between your lips becoming nonexistent in the span of a few seconds.

You try your hardest to hold on to your self control, to not seem as desperate as you’ve felt since that first night, but it’s useless. Your hands grip the front of her shirt in an attempt to pull her closer despite how insane everything is.

You’re simply dreaming and yet you can feel every touch, every breath, every desperate effort to make your desires a reality. You would feel embarrassed if Kate wasn’t acting the same way.

Her lips leave yours only to trail down to your neck, her fangs instantly teasing the sensitive skin she finds. The anticipation builds inside your chest as she toys with you and it’s all you can do not to beg for more.

“Kate.” Her name leaves your lips in the form of a whisper that disappears just as fast as it formed.

All you hear is her sharp intake of breath before it all fades to black.

Your eyes snap open and you’re greeted with the absolute silence you’re starting to associate with Wanda’s cabin. All you can do is lay there in the darkness, your heart pounding in your ears while your fingers trace the spot Kate’s lips had just been on.

It had all felt so real and now you’re all alone again. It shouldn’t be surprising at this point and yet you still hold on to the hope Kate will come looking for you.

But she doesn’t.

All she does is haunt your dreams in the most literal way possible. She doesn’t come to find you and fix your many, many issues, instead, she simply appears in your dreams long enough to send your mind reeling without offering any solutions.

You wish you could hate her for doing this to you but you can’t.

You love her.

Worse than that, you love her more and more each night. Even though it’s not nearly enough to heal any of your wounds, and maybe it only serves to hurt you more, it’s definitely addicting.

Wanda offers to help you sever the connection between you and Kate, something about a spell she read in the Darkhold being her only assurance that she knows what she’s doing. You don’t fully trust her on that but you do consider the option for longer than you want to admit.

You reason with yourself that there are much worse things to deal with on a daily basis than highly realistic dreams, though. That being bonded to a vampire isn't the worst thing in the world.

And maybe that would be true…if the vampire in question wasn't Kate Bishop.

You don't know what possesses you to ask but the question slips out in the middle of another midnight rendezvous. It’s been a little over two month since you moved away from New York, a little over two months since you've shared these weird dreams with Kate, when you finally ask.

“What exactly did you do for us to be bonded to each other?”

The question must catch her off guard given the way her eyes widen in panic. “What?”

“You said these weird dreams happen because we’re bonded or something but you never explained how that happened.” You watch the brunette from your spot on the couch and impatiently wait for a response, for something that will help you make sense of everything.

She swallows back her nervousness but gives herself away due to the way she fidgets with the rings on her hand. “Oh, yeah, that…it’s because I bit you that night in my apartment…remember?”

Her awkwardness would be endearing if her response wasn't so damn suspicious.

“Yeah but you're a vampire, biting people is kind of your thing. You're not automatically bonded to every person you bite, right?”

A beat of silence passes before she answers, her voice shaking the slightest bit. “No that…that only happens when there are…certain feelings involved.”

It takes a second for her answer to click in your brain. For her sudden nervousness to hold real meaning.

The answer hits you like a train and it makes your blood boil like nothing else.

“Kate, tell me that doesn't mean what I think it means. Tell me you didn't fire me because you were too afraid of having feelings for me.”

“y/n-”

“For fuck’s sake, Kate!”

The sudden frustration in your voice makes her jump, hundreds of meaningless explanations forming on the tip of her tongue.

You don't hear a word she says.

You can't hear anything besides the pounding in your heart and the devastation that threatens to swallow you whole.

You always knew being with Kate would be impossible but this was something else entirely. This wasn't a lack of feelings between you two, this was too many feelings and too many miles of distance and not one ounce of regret from her.

You're not sure when you stood up from your spot or when she approached you, you simply feel her hand on your waist and the unmistakable sound of her breathing.

“y/n,” she tries again. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m so tired of hearing you say that.”

“I know.”

The last thing you feel is her lips on the back of your neck before you wake up. Alone. Again.

Wanda must catch on to your desperation because she brings up the idea of cutting your connection with Kate that same morning.

“It’ll only be temporary,” she assures you. “No offense but you need sleep more than you need Kate Bishop.”

“I’m a little offended,” you grumble in response.

Despite your reservations, and the voice in the back of your head that tells you running away again is a bad idea, you go along with her plan. She's right, after all. You definitely need some time away from Kate Bishop and her never-ending messes.

The spell is simpler than you expect and it, thankfully, requires pretty much no effort on your part and no weird liquids.

It does also bring the best sleep you’ve had in months so you can’t complain…even when you wake up missing the sound of the archer’s voice.

You still miss her every day and you're sure that won't change any time soon but you welcome the peace with open arms.

Wanda spends her time teaching you random spells while you help her build a nice flower garden in the backyard. It's weird but…comforting.

You could even get used to life out here someday.

At least, that's what you keep telling yourself as the weeks go by.

Until Kate shows up unannounced and flips your world upside down again with those same soft eyes you fell on love with all those months ago.

[blisslilywrites]

I'm back with the Jessica rabbit ask? Shigiraki stain and overhaul maybe?

A/N: So Im not the most familiar with these bad bois but I hope I did them justice. Btw for Stain’s one, it’s the public finding out about his gf and like slightly yandere. Aaand on another sidenote,, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO SHIGGY!! ~lily

SHIGARAKI TOMURA:

The League was making their escape after another mission ended a bit too quickly cuz of some meddling heroes

Kurogiri wasn’t there to provide a quick way to escape so they had to resort to running through the city, hidden in the shadows of course

Somehow, through forces unknown to man, they bumped into you along their escape route

The moment you see them, your eyes grew wide

Shigaraki groaned inwardly cuz he knew how this showdown would go

The rest of the league were a bit confused. 

A civilian had just seen them, wanted villains, and their boss isn’t making any move to stop her from reporting them

Before anyone could attempt to threaten you, you ran up to Shigaraki and gave him a huge hug

Everyone: Umm nani???

What bothered them even more was that Shigaraki seemed...ok with all this?

“Aaa To-chan~~ I’ve missed you so much…” you pouted

Everyone: Nani wtf what how why wha-- *brain overloaded with unanswerable questions*

Once everyone recovered from their little short circuit, Shigaraki told them you were his girlfriend and not to worry since you knew about the league and won’t report them

Ngl he seemed lowkey annoyed at the whole thing but isnt he always

They just looked at you in awe

Wow, Shigaraki actually has interests in women and romance huh?

Not to mention, you were really attractive

And that voice of yours…

None of them really seemed to want to believe that someone like you was dating Shigaraki Tomura™

Then Toga literally just asked you why

“Well, why not?” you said with a seductive smile aimed at Shigaraki

They didn’t really know where to go from here until Compress reminded them they were still in the middle of an escape

Oh right…

You gave shiggy a small kiss on the cheek and waved goodbye to the league as they ran off into the shadows

Something tells you that you’ll see them all again pretty soon

Whether it’s on the news or in person

HERO KILLER: STAIN / Akaguro Chizome

You two have always kept your relationship under wraps

It was for your own safety, after all

However, news of Stain having a girlfriend spread across rumor groups all over the nation

They were all just rumors until someone managed to snap a pic of you and Stain locked in a tight embrace

Everyone was pretty shocked...for different reasons

Most fans couldn’t accept it and felt betrayed 

They believed you were a distraction from Stain’s true goal and purpose

Still, there were many others who appreciated you as it showed them Stain also had someone to fight for

And that someone was hella hot, according to the picture at least

This kind of stuff always ends up going viral and in your case, it did within a matter of days

Fanart and fanfics of the two of you filled the net

That along with the multitudes of intense shippers made you guys a beautifully tragic OTP

A lot of stuff went down in the Stain x Mystery Hottie fandom and let’s just say we dont talk about that anymore…

The same was true of those who hated you. You received a few death threats and even had someone stalk and almost attack you

Thank goodness Stain was there though

Oh yeah did I mention how upset Stain was with all this and he hasnt even seen the art or fics smh

He was absolutely livid

The world wasn’t supposed to know about you. You were supposed to be his and his alone to cherish.

From then on, he spent a great deal of time and effort keeping you hidden. You didn’t mind much since you knew it was for the best

You knew from the beginning that being in a relationship with Stain wasn’t going to be easy.

You never once tried to leave though

And that was something Stain would always appreciate, love even, about you

OVERHAUL / Chisaki Kai

Things have been a bit rough lately and so you and Chisaki finally made the decision for you to move to the Shie Hassaiki base

When he brought you to there, it didn’t seem like anyone was around

“They’re all out on a mission,” he explained

Chisaki then left you to go do some work and you quickly made yourself at home

Around evening time, you got really hungry and Chisaki still hadn’t come back to check on you

So you did something you probably figured was a little stupid...

You left your room to go look for him 

And maybe to get some food if you could find any 

The only problem was that the compound was huge and you quickly found yourself lost in its seemingly endless hallways

You were getting desperate when you turned a corner and bumped into a group of men in scary-looking masks

They were all pretty shocked when they saw you

Their base wasn’t supposed to be infiltrated this easily, especially by someone who seemed to be a civilian

One of them, the biggest, meanest looking one, walked up to you and grabbed you gruffly by the arm

“What are you doing here?”

You tried to calmly explain that Chisaki brought you here

They didn’t exactly believe you though and were probably just trying to figure out how best to kill or torture you

You sighed, figuring you should just use your trump card

“I’m his girlfriend.”

They still didn’t believe you

Before you could say anything more though, a loud voice spoke up from behind you

“What do you think you’re doing with my woman?”

It was filled with so much iciness and calm hostility

Like literally you could feel a chill run down your spine

It was even worse for the idiots who tried to kill you  

They were practically shaking in fear when they realized you weren’t lying

Long story short, you calmed Chisaki down and the men were spared

Whatever doubt they had about someone like you being Chisaki’s girlfriend was kept to themselves as they profusely apologized over and over

Since then though, they seemed to have developed a lot respect as well as fear of you

Afterall, you were one of the only people Chisaki actually listened to

And that was no easy feat indeed

[eldritchsurveys]

905.

5k Survey XXX

1551. What song would you (or have you) sung karaoke? >> The songs I remember doing in my few years of doing live-band karaoke are... Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana, The Trooper by Iron Maiden, Since I’ve Been Loving You by Led Zeppelin, Jeremy by Pearl Jam, Limelight by Rush, and No One Knows by Queens of the Stone Age. I know there have been others, but I just can’t remember what they are now. It’s been some years. 1552. Do you run through the sprinkler on a hot day? >> No. 1553. Could you survive without: Electricity: The answer to all of these except radio and a car is “yes, probably, but would my quality of life be worth it?” Heat:  Air conditioning:  TV:  Radio:  A car: 1554. Would you ever consider shaving your head? >> I buzz my head every couple of weeks. I don’t shave it all the way because I prefer the fuzz, but I have in the past. 1555. What is one thing that will happen to you less than 24 hours from now? >> Sleep.

1556. What age would you want to stay forever? >> --- 1557. What is the softest part of your body? >> --- 1558. What would make your day if it happened right now? >> I don’t know. 1559. What are you thinking about? >> These questions. More or less -- a lot of them are just unanswerable by me. 1560. Are you on: Drugs: Not right now. The road to nowhere: What. The crazy train: -__-

1561. Do you say everything to people’s faces or do you talk behind their backs? >> I don’t say everything to people’s faces, no. It’s just not always necessary. I’ve definitely discussed altercations I’ve had, with other, uninvolved people. It’s good to get other perspectives. 1562. What is gone that will never come back? >> Disco. I don’t fucking know. 1563. What’s your biggest turn on? >> --- 1564. Have you ever made love in an elevator? >> No. 1565. Are you spiritually dead? >> I don’t know what that means. 1566. What’s your favorite care bear? >> --- 1567. Do you like the music of Warren Zevon? >> I don’t know, I’ve never heard it. 1568. Have you ever wanted a picture painted onto your car? >> --- 1569. Are you an alien in a red striped jumpsuit who plays guitar in a band? >> No. 1570. If you aren’t an alien in a red striped jumpsuit who plays guitar in a band then who is? >> --- 1571. How many private entries do you have? >> I don’t make private entries on tumblr. I do have plenty on Dreamwidth, though. 1572. Are you clumsy? >> No. 1573. As you get older will you let your looks go or have plastic surgery? >> “Let your looks go” is such a fucked up way to describe ageing. I guess it’s normal to everyone else, but to me it just feeds into this idea that the only beauty and worth exists in youth, and the farther away from youth one gets, the less value one has. What I look forward to in my later years is caring less about “looking good” to fuckin strangers, and appreciating my existence regardless of my appearance. 1574. If you wear contacts or glasses would you ever consider laser eye surgery? >> --- 1575. What is the most expensive thing you own? >> My gaming computer. 1576. What do you think of when you hear the word ‘cell’? >> Cells in your body. 1577. Have you ever had goat’s milk? >> I don’t think so. I’ve had plenty of goat’s cheese, though. 1578. Do you care how Jennifer Anniston lives her life? >> No. 1579. If there was a 'penny per page’ internet tax would you pay it? >> I don’t know. I’d need more information than just that. 1580. Do you treat your pets like family members? >> --- 1581. Have you ever eaten tofu? >> Yeah, many times. 1582. Do you believe that the 'war on drugs’ is effective? >> I don’t think it was ever meant to be “effective”, not in the way you’d think. It was, however, plenty effective at putting scores of marginalised people in prisons and encouraging harmful social stigmas that only make drug problems worse. 1583. What would you like to have 435 of (anything but money)? >> --- 1584. How many people know the password to your diary besides you? >> No one knows my tumblr password. 1585. Do you like Calvin and Hobbes? >> I do. 1586. Have you ever thought of deleting your diary? >> I haven’t felt the desire to delete this blog. 1587. Have you ever thought of moving to OD+? >> I wasn’t ever on OD so I don’t know anything about this. 1588. Do 48 hours need 48 thrills? >> What? 1589. Who do you know that acts phony? >> I know people who seem insincere sometimes, but even then, I don’t know if they are actually being insincere. 1590. Do you like American Pie? >> No. 1591. What is the last law you broke? >> --- 1592. Have you ever run away from home? >> I’ve tried. 1593. Have you had a good feeling today? >> Sure. 1594. What was it? >> You know. Good humour, or whatever. 1595. Did your parents pretend their was a tooth fairy and slip money under your pillow? >> I don’t remember. 1596. If yes, how much per tooth? >> --- 1597. Is there a difference between art and crafts? >> There could be. I’ve never bothered to think about it. 1598. Have you ever tried out for something? >> Yeah. 1599. Did you make it? >> i made it into choir most years (there was a year or so in pre-adolescence when I didn’t realise my voice had changed from soprano to alto, and finally someone told me to try alto and I got in). I’m not sure what else I’ve tried out for. 1600. What’s your favorite lullaby? >> ---

[our-smooty]

Flowerbeds and Fertile Soil: Chapter 7

Fandom: Good Omens

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens, )Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer

Tags:  Kidfic, Mpreg kind of, they can choose to present however so idk, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Vulva (Good Omens), OCs Galor, parenting, using your snake form to avoid confrontation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pregnancy, if I missed a tag lemme know

Summary: They could do anything, go anywhere, all without the worry of Above or Bellow making a fuss. Even so, they mostly kept to their little patch of Eden, their cottage and garden and the simple life they’d carved out among the locals. Aziraphale opened a book shop in town, where he only occasionally sold any books (and the ones he did sell, were all modern and stocked specifically for that purpose). Crowley focused his attentions on the garden, and if he occasionally helped their elderly neighbour with her disobedient willow tree, then that was a secret no one needed to know. Lately, however, they had both been feeling rather restless, unbeknownst to each other. Aziraphale tried reorganizing his store, changing the way he tied his bowtie and even ate pizza –something he considered to be far too messy for him personally. Crowley had branched out into birdwatching, and then car maintenance (the human way), and even reading. Nothing scratched the itch for either of them.

Ao3 Link

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They got the call from Newt a few days later. Baby Boy Device-Pulcifier, named Alfred or Alfie for short, was born healthy and screaming his head off. Crowley, being the more tech-savvy of the two of them, managed to facetime the other couple so Charlotte and Annabella could see the new baby and their parents. Anathema looked tired, but happy, while Newt was buzzing around the background with excitement, probably annoying all the nurses to death. Bella and Lottie had lots of questions, most of which were nearly unanswerable because they kept speaking over each other. After half-an-hour little Alfie began to wake up and fuss so they had to end the call, promising to visit as soon as they were ready to take the baby home. 

“M’a big sister?” Bella asked, her excitement obvious. Crowley couldn’t help but smile as Lottie began to pout.

“I’m still the biggest sister,” she declared, stomping her foot. Aziraphale chuckled at her attitude and ruffled her hair. 

“That’s true my dear, but do you know what being the biggest sister means?” She turned to him with wide eyes, more than ready for responsibility in that way only children could be. Bella had lost interest and was playing a game on Crowley’s phone, but the demon made sure to listen in. “It means you have to help out two little siblings and be twice the good example for them.”

Charlotte’s face scrunched up in concentration for a moment before she smiled with a determined look. “I can do that, Uncle Aziraphale!”

“Good girl, I know you can.” Crowley cleared his throat and cast a proud look over at the angel. 

“Nice one, Aziraphale,” he praised genuinely, though the sentence sounded a little sarcastic. Aziraphale beamed all the same. It was good to see his angel feeling a little more confident in his abilities to interact with the kids. Those types of things rarely came naturally to Aziraphale and Crowley knew he was trying hard. It filled him with so much pure affection it was almost disgusting. Almost.

“Thank you, love. Shall we go out and pick something up for the little lad as a welcome-home gift?” Their god-daughters cheered, mostly because they knew their uncles wouldn’t be able to resist buying them something as well, and ran off to get ready. Crowley was already thinking about all the adorable little outfits they could buy for the new baby boy. Maybe he could spend a miracle to make sure a few of them would grow with him, at least for the first few months. It’d been a shame when the girls grew out of all the clothes they had gifted.

“Are you up to some shopping Crowley? You have a much better eye for these things than I do,” Aziraphale asked. He ran a hand up Crowley’s arm and into his hair, cradling the back of his head softly. Crowley leaned into it like he always did, soaking up the touch like the touch-starved, heat-seeking serpent he was. Even 10 years of constantly being touched and being able to touch hadn’t removed that need completely. 

“Of course, do I ever turn down an opportunity to spoil the kids? And someone has to stop you from buying the poor bairn a completely tartan outfit,” he teased. Over the past three days he’d had 4 more episodes of nausea and 3 episodes of dizziness, but none as severe at the first. Now that he knew what they were and how to handle them it wasn’t so terrifying for him and the angel and there hadn’t been any more fainting spells. This morning the sickness had lingered until noon before it tapered off and now he felt fine. A little shopping might actually make him feel better. 

“Fantastic. Do you think we might…?” Aziraphale trailed off nervously, but Crowley had a feeling he knew what the angel wanted to ask. 

“If you see anything you really like for, uh, ours, I wouldn’t say no to picking up a few things. Not a lot mind, but you never know when you’ll see something perfect,” Crowley rambled. He adjusted his glasses to make sure they were still covering his eyes. It was a nervous tick he didn’t think he was ever going to break. His slight unease was offset by the relieved smile and small kiss on the cheek Aziraphale gave him. 

“Thank you, my star. You’ll let me know if you get uncomfortable though, won’t you?” Crowley leaned down to give the angel a kiss of his own, this time on the lips. 

“Sure, angel. Just don’t try and buy the entire baby store yeah?”  A shrill cry from the room down the hall followed by Charlotte’s voice loudly proclaiming that she hadn’t done anything rang through the house. Both beings sighed and stepped back. Godparenthood called once again. Crowley was beginning to look forward to the girls going home. Not that he didn’t love having them around, but they were really putting a damper on his Aziraphale time. He wasn't sure if it was because of the baby or if he just really, really loved the angel but lately he'd had an almost constant need to be close to him.

Neither of them wanted to make the long drive to London, so they made the short drive down the road to the nearest baby shop instead, a little store called Cheeky Rascals (which made Crowley nearly do his own wiggle of delight each time he heard it). They’d gone here many times since the girls had been born, and were sort of known by the employees. Especially since Aziraphale was the type to gush to anyone about their godchildren. 

“So we’ve agreed. Two outfits and only one toy, since they still have things from when Bella was little,” Crowley repeated for the third time since getting in the car. He doubted Aziraphale was listening, too busy imagining adorable little jacket and trouser combinations. In the back of the Bently, strapped into their car seats, Bella and Lottie argued over who would get to see Alfred first. Crowley, of course, drove the exact speed limit with utmost care while they were back there.

“Aziraphale, did you hear me? Only two,” he repeated firmly. He knew once they got there the angel would start to get carried away with the excitement of it all. Crowley didn’t feel like wrangling a flightly angel and two children at the same time, but it looked like that was going to be the case. 

“Of course dear,” Aziraphale answered distractedly, like he hadn’t actually heard what Crowley said. The demon sighed and committed himself to a much less relaxing evening than he’d initially expected. 

“Just, try to keep it within reason,” he begged as they pulled into the store parking lot. They each took charge of getting one of the kids out of their seatbelts and ferrying them safely through the lot and into the store. Inside was an assault of baby blue and pink, a small section of more neutral yellow, and entirely too many plush toys. 

“Ok girls, why don’t we go pick something out for your new brother?” Aziraphale asked leading them down the isles into the clothing section. He waved at the clerk behind the counter, who waved back and cooed at the girls as they passed, remarking on how big they were getting. Crowley was sure she thought they were he and Azirapahle’s kids, and no explaining that they were their godchildren would convince her otherwise. 

Crowley decided to leave them to it for a few minutes while he looked around for gift for the newborn hmself. He knew Anathema came from money, and could probably afford anything she and Newt wanted for their new baby, but he prided himself in finding the perfect gift for each child. Quickly striding through the stroller and car seat section he came to the toys. 

The selection was overwhelming. There were soft toys, talking toys, glowing toys, and toys that did all three. He’d given Lottie a stuffed puppy that she still refused to leave the house without. For Bella he’d picked out a teddy bear that glowed slightly when you squeezed it that had made her frequent night-time worries much less frequent. Crowley needed to find something similar for the new one, which was going to be a little bit of a challenge since he hadn’t actually met the kid yet. Relying almost entirely on his Demonic Luck (which, if asked, he would deny having and instead have called it skill), he scanned the shelves, waiting for something to jump out at him. 

After a few minutes of fruitless browsing, he Felt something as he passed a display filled with a variety of different plush pillows. He began to scan the piles, looking for one that felt right. Carefully, Crowley began to dig deeper into the pile, until his hand touched something. It was a blanket, barely four feet long, knit with a lovely cream base and accented with green felt leaves. Upon closer inspection it wasn’t right for his new godson; something inside his chest told him it was a little bit too dainty. But it still called to him for some reason and he couldn’t seem to get himself to put it down, like static cling had glued it to his hand. So he didn’t try, and instead bundled it up in the crook of his shoulder and kept looking. 

In the end he came across a caterpillar-shaped stuffy with extremely soft fluff around the head that felt right for little Alfred. His mission completed, Crowley decided it was about time to check in with Aziraphale and get to work on cutting down the probably dozens of items he and the girls had amassed. Surprisingly when he found them, still in the clothing section, they had less than ten in their cart, with Charlotte and Annabella holding one shirt each for themselves. The shirts both read “proud big sister” which made him smile.

“Found anything you like angel?” he asked, waltzing up behind Aziraphale and resting his head on his shoulder. Aziraphale had two teeny-tiny bowties in his hands, one a blue checkered pattern and the other solid red. “The blue one would look cute with those corduroy overalls you have picked out, as much as I hate to admit it.”

“Oh, Crowley! You startled me!” Aziraphale said, shaking himself a little then holding both bowties up. “Do you really think so? I would have thought you’d prefer the red and that little jean jacket with the matching trousers.”

Crowley cast an eye over the mentioned articles and made a considering noise. “Not for him, I don’t think. It’s more, our style?” And it was. The jacket was that kind of cool-baby-chic that was very in right now, and the trousers had cute little tan patches sewn over the knees that reminded him of Aziraphale’s favourite coat. 

“I think you’re right,” Aziraphale sighed, setting the red bowtie aside sadly. Crowley snatched it up and set it at the neck of the outfit. It really did go well. 

“We could get it for us,” Crowley murmured, refusing to look away from the little outfit. He could picture a faceless form, a few months old crawling around in those exact garments. Or walking through St. James’ Park pushing a stroller, while the angel walks beside him, leaning down to fuss with the collar of the jean jacket, making sure it’s keeping its owner warm and happy. Embarrassed, he physically shook his head to bring himself back from that daydream. He held out the bowtie like it might burn him. “If you like it so much, I mean.”

“Oh really? I think we should. Something about it just seems very right,” Aziraphale gushed, putting the items in his buggy happily. “Did you find anything for Alfred?”

Crowley offered up the stuffed caterpillar in what he hoped was a casual fashion. It felt right, but Aziraphale’s approval of the toy was inordinately important to him. Luckily the angel smiled and nodded, saying that it was perfect. Bella and Lottie ooh-ed at the toy, each holding their hands out. Crowley didn’t hand it over though; he knew that if he did it’d never make it to its rightful owner. 

“Not this time, niblings. This is for your new brother. And besides, your mum and dad would kill me if you brought home and more toys.” They didn’t kick up too much of a fuss, mostly because they already had their “sister shirts”, as they had begun calling them. Crowley breathed a sigh of relief and took a seat on a nearby bench, content to watch Aziraphale coo over baby shoes. This trip was far less traumatic than he’d been bracing for in the parking lot and it felt good to get to enjoy this in a weird, human way. Never, in all 6000 years of his life (and before that, the blurry memories of far, far Before), had he imagined he would be sitting in a baby store, shopping for his human friend's child (nevermind his own).

“Well what do you think Crowley? I’ve narrowed it down to five, and we can pick two from those?” Crowley was once again snapped out of his daydreaming to address his lover. All five outfits were perfect. Maybe he’d been giving Aziraphale too little credit before. 

“Let's just get all of them. We can save a few for his first birthday or Christmas and miracle them to fit,” Crowley answered, greatly enjoying the way Aziraphale lit up. Of course he knew they’d go home with more than they intended, but how could he deny his angel anything?

“Really? That sounds like a wonderful plan. We won’t have to make another trip out here for the Holidays.” They would though, Crowley knew. They wouldn’t be able to resist giving the kid some of the outfits whenever they visited, no matter how much they tried. 

“Sounds good then. Are you ready to go?” Crowley watched Aziraphale pause and go through his mental checklist. He was just about to assure him that they’d gotten everything they came for when the angel pointed to his side.

“What’s that?” Crowley looked down then felt himself blush. He’d completely forgotten about the blanket nestled in the crook of his elbow. “Is it something else for Alfred?”

“N-no,” Crowley stuttered, feeling more than a little flustered again. He’d kept his cool over the outfit mostly because Aziraphale had picked it out and he was only doing the angel a  favour by saying they should buy it. The blanket was his choice and that made it all the more personal and real. “I liked it, s-so I thought maybe… you know?”

“Yes?” Aziraphale had that look on his face that said ‘I know exactly what you mean, but I want to see if I can make you say it’. It was a look that was almost always followed by Crowley making a fool of himself as he tried to muddle through his feelings.

“Bastard,” he huffed under his breath, quiet enough that the kids wouldn’t hear. “It's for--for our one? Alright?”

Of course that earned a slight laugh and a large smile from his angel. “Of course, dear boy. May I see it?” Crowley handed over the blanket with a scowl, refusing to look up from the floor. He could head Lottie whispering to Bella about how his face was nearly the same colour as his har. “It’s lovely Crowley. The leaves--and this wool is so soft! A very good choice, love.”

Aziraphale ran his fingers across the woven wool with delicate care, almost like it was one of his precious ancient scrolls. Slowly he brought it up to his face, pressing the softness to his lips and humming in pleasure. Crowley’s breath hitched, his soul nearly undone by the simple, rapturous look on his angel’s face. “Glad you like it, angel.”

“I’m sure I’d like anything you pick out.” Did Aziraphale know what saying those kinds of things did to him? He must have, he said them so often it had to be on purpose. But usually, when the angel was teasing him he would get that look, so maybe he didn’t. It seemed impossible but maybe Aziraphale really did just… love Crowley like that. 

“Can we go now?” Lottie whined while tugging on Crowley’s sleeve. “I’m hungry.”

“Nibbles?” Bella asked, wide-eyed and eager as Aziraphale picked her up and placed her in the buggy seat. Crowley had taught her that one, mostly because he knew it would make Aziraphale laugh. 

“Why not? I’m sure we can find somewhere to grab a bite before heading him, right Crowley?” Of course they could. They had the near-limitless power of Heaven and Hell at their disposal, finding a place to eat was extraordinarily simple. Finding somewhere that served something both girls would eat, that would meet up the Aziraphale’s expectations, and had parking enough for the Bently was another matter entirely. But things had been going well so far, and Crowley was feeling quite optimistic for once, so he nodded and led them towards the check-out. Maybe it was possible to have a nice, relaxed afternoon with their little extended family, without any disasters.

Three days later Newt called to say they were ready for the girls to come back home, and if Crowley could drive them over that would be much appreciated. Crowley thought about refusing to make the drive, just to live up to his demonic nature, but in the end couldn’t resist going to give his present to Alfred in person. So he and Aziraphale packed up Bella and Lottie with their gifts and made the few-hours journey to Tadfield. Of course it took much longer than usual, since Crowley had to go the speed limit, but at the very least he was able to miracle to traffic to stay clear. 

“Ok now girls, you must try and stay quiet in case your brother is sleeping,” Aziraphale instructed as Crowley parked. “I know you’ve missed your mummy and daddy, and that you’re very excited, but it is very rude to wake a baby from their nap.”

“Yes Uncle Azi,” they both said, practically vibrating with excitement. They were both wearing their new shirts, and Aziraphale had braided their hair in an effort to make things as easy as possible on the new parents. Crowley expected that at least one of them would forget their instructions the second they all got inside, but he was ready to expend a small miracle to make sure Alfred stayed calm and not screaming through their visit. 

“OK, let's go, angel,” he said. He saw Anathema waiting at the bay window, waving happily with a small bundle in her arms. Newton was already at the front door kneeling down and opening his arms for when his daughters inevitably rushed him. Crowley watched with a small smile, especially when Lottie began to loudly explain their new outfits and Bella shushed her. 

“Isn’t that just lovely,” Aziraphale sighed, setting the seats to rights and offering to take one of the bags Crowley was holding. “I know they love us, but there’s something special about the bond between parent and child, isn’t there?”

“I know lots of people who’d disagree with you there angel,” Crowley remarked, hefting the remaining bag over his shoulder. Aziraphale very nearly began to whine. “Oh hush, I know what you mean.”

Aziraphale harrumphed and gave Crowley a scolding look. That was a common occurrence in their household though, so it barely phased the demon as he walked towards the open door. Newt was braced against the doorframe, making a valiant effort to listen to both girls as they simultaneously chattered at him. He looked ecstatic all the same, and Crowley’s stomach did a mild, swooping dive when realized that in a few years he might be in the same position. The last thing he needed right now was to get all overemotional, so he looked away, instead focusing on sliding through the doorway without getting knocked over himself. 

“Hello Crowley, Aziraphale!” Anathema greeted eagerly. She was wearing one of the long flowy dresses she’d favoured during her pregnancy and looked absolutely radiant despite the fact she had literally pushed a living being out of her body not even a week prior. “Thank you again for looking after the girls for us, you have no idea how much we appreciate it.”

“No worries, my dear. The girls have been a delight. Isn’t that right Crowley?” Aziraphale said from over his left shoulder. Crowley was too busy staring at the bundle of blankets in her arms. He’d reacted the same when Lottie, then Bella were born, so Anathema wasn’t surprised. 

“Why don’t you come inside for some tea, and meet the little man. You’re very lucky, he’s just woken up from a nap.” She gestured for them to drop the bags in the hallway and follow her inside to the living room, where there was already a pot of tea, steaming and ready, sitting on tea-cozy. 

“Witches,” Crowley grumbled quietly, but Anathema just laughed. Behind them, the front door closed and the house was filled with the ruckus of Newt trying to get the kid’s shoes off before they ran into the house and tracked mud all over the carpets. He decided to take up residence in the wingback armchair by the fire that he always sat in when they visited, closest to the couch where Anathema had set down with the baby. The angle made it so he could see the barest wisp of dark hair peeking out of the blankets.

“Alright, here you go,” Anathema said suddenly, shifting over so she could pass him the baby. Crowley’s eyes went with shock, though he still held out his arms and took the boy from his mother with practised ease. "Oh don’t look like that, I know you’re dying to hold him.”

“Thanks,” he breathed, getting a good look at the little blob of pink flesh and linen. Alfred had his dad’s nose and his mom’s eyes, along with a startling shock of thick dark hair. Both Device-Pulcifer girls had been born with little more than peach fuzz, but he knew human babies came in all shapes and sizes. Aziraphale lingered over his shoulder still, making sweet cooing and awing noises.

“He’s perfect, Anathema,” Crowley said in an awed voice. “Shame about him getting Newton’s nose, but I’m sure it won’t do him much harm.”

“Ha-ha,” Newt groaned from the hallway. “Didn’t you say my nose suited Lottie when she was born? I seem to remember something like that at least.”

“I said nothing of the sort.” Aziraphale poked him lightly in the side. “Fine, his nose is… adequate. Lots of hair.”

“Yes, it’s actually quite shocking!” The angel sat on the arm of the chair and petted a hand against the baby’s head. “I’d forgotten how soft newborn hair is.”

“He’s a good sleeper too, only wakes us up every two or so hours,” Anathema said proudly. She procured a bottle from one of the side tables and held it out. “I was going to feed him, would you mind?”

“No problem.” In fact, Crowley was more than happy to spend as much time as possible holding the kid, though if he didn’t give Aziraphale a turn in a few minutes the angel might start complaining. Anathema nodded and passed over the bottle before standing a little stiffly. With a silent snap, Aziraphale took away some of her post-birth pains, though not enough that she would notice and start to put up a fuss. Crowley noticed of course, but he didn’t say anything. 

Anathema left them there to go greet her other children. The entire cottage was filled with so much love that even Crowley could feel the very edges of it against his demonic soul. The first time he’d held Charlotte when she’d been born he’d nearly passed out from how much love he felt for her. It had happened a few other times too, when Aziraphale had confessed his feelings a week after Armageddon, and when they’d bought the cottage. Bella’s birth had come as a surprise--she’d been 2 months early--and unfortunately, that time had been filled more with fear and relief than love. But now, holding this little bundle of happiness and innocence, Crowley felt overwhelmingly at peace as he watched Alfred slowly suck down the milk provided. 

A small gasp made him lookup. Aziraphale was staring at him and the baby with something akin to wonder and Crowley realized a large amount of the love he was feeling was radiating from his angel. He smiled and even though his sunglasses were still on he knew it was too genuine and too soft for his harsh features. “Do you want to hold him?”

Aziraphale shook his head, resting a hand on Crowley’s cheek and caressing his cheekbone as if he were something precious. “Not yet, my starlight. I’m enjoying watching you with him for the moment.”

“Aziraphale!” Crowley whined, feeling that familiar embarrassed heat creeping up his neck. It was bad enough he couldn’t hide how much of a sap he was for children, did his angel had to go and point it out all the time? He ducked his head back down to focus on holding the bottle at the right angle.

“Shh, don’t get yourself all in a tizzy. I only mean that it’s nice to see you so happy,” Aziraphale said as he planted a kiss against the crown of Crowley’s head. “I think it’s rather beautiful.”

Crowley was saved the indignity of floundering through a response because Bella and Lottie were being led into the living room by Anathema and Newt. Each adult held one little girl in their arms, depositing them down by Crowley’s knees with instructions to be very, very careful. He set the finished bottle aside and tilted forward, just enough so they could see their newest sibling.

“He’s small!” Bella squealed, her little fingers curling the blankets. Alfred wiggled and freed a hand, his itty-bitty fingers curling around hers. 

“Why’s he look like that?” Lottie asked. That forced a laugh out of all the adults.

“You looked like that too honey, when you first came out of mommy’s tummy,” Anathema explained. Lottie looked scandalized but quickly recovered when Alfred let out a squawk. 

“Is he trying to talk?”

“No, babies can’t talk until they’re older. Remember when Bella was little?” Newt asked and Charlotte nodded, though she’d barely been three at the time. “Well, babies look a little funny for a while when they’re first born. He’ll look different in a week or two, just like what happened to you.”

“I never looked like that,” she insisted, looking very much like her mother. Newt just laughed and gave her a kiss to the head. Crowley rocked Alfred a few times, since he’d begun whimpering more and more, then decided it was time to hand him back to Anathema.

“Little guys getting fussy, you’d better take him,” he said, handing him off to his mum. “I’m sure there will be time for you to hold him later angel.”

“That’s fine dear, wouldn’t want to set him off. Oh! Why don’t we go get his gifts?” 

Alfred loved his stuffy, just as Crowley knew he would. The little tyke quieted right down when it was placed next to him in his rocker. Anathema and Newt greatly enjoyed the two outfits they’d brought with them, especially when Crowley assured them they would fit for the foreseeable future. The girls excitedly showed off their shirts, and overall it was a very pleasant afternoon. They were invited to stay for dinner, which Anathema insisted they accept as thanks for babysitting. Aziraphale was delighted to find out that she’d cooked her mother’s paella, though he admonished her for going to all that extra effort just for them. 

“Don’t worry about it, I needed something to do when Alfie woke me up this morning and I couldn’t get back to sleep.” They sat around the dinner table and chit-chatted idly. Crowley made a go at some of the rice, eating around the seafood bits, but in the end wasn’t able to manage more than a  few spoonfuls before feeling that now-familiar rolling in his stomach. He pushed his share over the Aziraphale, who took it happily, not stopping his conversation with Newt about the human’s new job at the post office. Crowley glanced over to the witch, worried his refusal to eat might be insulting, but she just smiled and shrugged. 

“I couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as fish when I was pregnant with Charlotte, don’t worry about it,” she assured him. It was the first time all day anyone had acknowledged Crowley’s… condition and he wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about it. He didn’t want to think about what it would be like when he started showing, and everyone who saw him would know. 

“Ngh,” he responded, shrugging himself. It was awkward, being seen like that, but if it had to be anyone, the witch was probably the best option. “How long does this go on for again?”

“Usually just the first trimester, unless you’re really unlucky.” Which meant the was probably going to be doomed for the next however long. 

“Great. Bloody, peachy,” he moaned, resting his forehead on the table. Bella giggled and tried to toss a shrimp into his hair, though she was thwarted by Anathema’s stern ‘mom glare’. 

“Do you know how far along you are?” she asked, unphased by her daughter’s pouting. Crowley squirmed a little and wished Aziraphale was paying attention so he could field all these questions. But the angel continued to chatter on, oblivious to Crowley’s discomfort. And besides, Crowley thought, it was pathetic how often he was hiding behind his lover anyway. Time to buck up and not be a coward for once. 

“We think two months? Maybe a little less? It’s not exactly like this sort of thing has been done before so we’re not exactly sure of… anything,” he explained, tipping his head up so his chin was resting on the table. This was nearing dangerous territory. “For all we know this whole process could take years.”

Anathema winced in sympathy. “I hope not. I have a few things leftover from Alfie, some tea and herbs and stuff that really helped me if you want them.” Human kindness always surprised him. He was struck with the urge to thank her profusely. 

“Sure, can’t hurt I suppose,” he said instead, readjusting the arms of his glasses to make sure his eyes were fully covered. He didn’t truly need them here but without at least a few glasses of wine, he felt more comfortable with them on. Hell, he’d worn them for at least the first year when he and Aziraphale moved into their cottage. 

“I guess it is all new territory. I could try and do some scrying, if you want, get the general lay of the next few months. I can’t make any promises though, I’m sure you know this stuff is more of an art than a science.”

Of course that caught Aziraphale’s attention. “You could really do that? I’m afraid looking into the future has never been one of my strong suits. Everything gets so awfully muddled, you think you see one thing but it turns out to be entirely something else.”

Crowley, who had been ready to insist that he did not want even more help, raised an eyebrow. “You’ve tried looking into the future? I’m a demon and even I know that’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Worked out well with Agnus though, didn’t it?” Newt chimed in, helping himself to seconds. “Rather well, if I remember.”

Anathema grinned smugly at the two occult beings. “Newts right, you know. Seems humans are just better at doing some things.”

“Newts right, you know,” Crowley mocked under his breath. The two humans just laughed while Aziraphale gave Crowley a swift slap to the arm.

“Crowley! Anathema has so kindly offered to look into our baby’s future and you feel the need to act like a complete child?” he seethed with all the polite rage of a true Englishman. Crowley squirmed under the angle’s unrelenting gaze. Aziraphale quickly turned to Anathema with an apologetic look. “Terribly sorry dear. We would much appreciate any help you could give us.”

Crowley glared at the table, successfully chastised. It wasn’t his fault! All these questions about something so personal were making him uncomfortable, and it wasn’t like he could just leave. Well, he could. Might do even, in a minute. Spend some time curled up in the trunk of the Bently as a snake. He always kept a few soft blankets in there, just in case. 

“It’s fine,” Newt said, amused. “I remember how moody Anathema got when she was preg--” Right! That was it. A pot he hadn’t known was boiling inside him bubbled over. Crowley stood suddenly, his chair making an awful screeching sound against the wood floor.

“Gotta--gonna go outside--for some air. Y-yeah, air!” he garbled, quickly stalking towards the front hall. Aziraphale made to follow him but Crowley threw up a hand. “Don’t worry, won’t be more than a tick.”

For someone who walked like they were going to fall over at any moment, Crowley could move rather fast when he needed to. It came in handy in situations like this, or when he wanted to practise his dine and dash skills. In less than 30 seconds he was outside and popping open the trunk of the Bently. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed no one had followed him, and then he transformed into a snake. Smaller than his regular form, but it had to be in order to fit in the boot. He slithered into the dark, warm space and flicked his tongue at the door, which promptly shut itself. There, someplace calm and quiet to cool off (metaphorically speaking, it was warm in the trunk). He’d just stay for a few minutes, not long enough cause too much of a stir. Then he’d go back and finish dinner like nothing was wrong. Because nothing was wrong. He was just overthinking and needed to spend some time not doing that. Only a few minutes, fifteen at the most. Then he'd go back.

[ancrowpocene]

the web

(this was a little creative essay I wrote for the farmer whose farm I was living and working on. It was a biodynamic vegetable farm located on the Lofoten Islands, within the Arctic Circle. It was a tough, crushing spring, and we spent a lot of time inside, slowly renovating an old cow barn and having long-winded conversations. He was a Lord of the Rings fan- I was, and continue to be, a lost mid-20-something).

 I can’t remember it exactly, but I think we were vaguely questioning our perceptions of reality when “sub-creation” came up in conversation. It was introduced as a concept from J.R.R. Tolkien and in the context of plant consciousness-- two realms that, to me, seem somewhat impenetrable for different reasons. Partially because of ignorance, but also partially because I think there is a limit to how far you can explore  (1) the Tolkien universe or (2) the intelligence of other life forms before they get too trippy-- as in, you start projecting so much of yourself onto them that they become more like a broken mirror for your own stories.

but anyway...

Tolkien himself defines sub-creation as forming a cohesive fantasy through building worlds and creating myths. In the literary context of his “legendarium,” this refers to the idea that all of the creative endeavors of the Ainur, Elves, Dwarves, and Men in the world of Arda stem from Eru Ilúvatar, or “the One.” This is because Eru possesses the “Flame Imperishable”, granting him the ability to create existence from nothingness (shoutout to tolkiengateway.net....). So, Tolkien distinguishes between a sort of primary creation, the act of turning nothing into something, and subsequent creation, everything that happens afterward.

There is an obvious parallel here to the role of an author: a fictive writer is, indeed, the creator of an entire universe, and all the characters and actions taking place within that universe are derivatives of the author’s efforts.  

But the author creates because they are created themselves. And indeed this aligns with Tolkien’s theology, as he was a devout Catholic and therefore believed that he was created by God. Thus, in his efforts as a writer, Tolkien embraced sub-creation as a form of worship, a way for creatures to express the divine image in them by becoming creators themselves. (David C. Downing. Sub-creation or Smuggled Theology)

So, is sub-creation only conceptually interesting for a religious fantasy writer? I think there are two main questions to be answered here, and I will try to loosely address them in this text. The first is: can the idea of sub-creation transcend theology? And the second is: can it offer a way to find meaning in the human experience?

....

And so we begin with Humanity’s Biggest and Baddest Question: “Who or what is our Eru?” or, in other words, 

“How did we get here?”

The question that has started wars, divided people, been the greatest source of angst and/or bliss, the unanswerable question, the question that is somewhat miraculous even in its ability to be thought...

Is it indeed an old white man with a long beard and flowing robes, sitting upon a throne of sky and stars? or perhaps a cosmic turtle, carrying the world on its back? or maybe all life and matter are just the consequence of an extremely small and dense point exploding 13 billion years ago?

Is this question just an answerable case of infinite regress (the idea that everything that exists is contained within something else)

(Before I continue I feel like I need to make a disclaimer that I am quite ignorant when it comes to both philosophy and world religions. I make some big generalizations in the following musings, and I tried to combine what I already know with a little bit of research, but I will just try to humbly acknowledge here that I don’t really know what I’m talking about. But it’s kind of fun to be in that position. )

I was not raised religiously and I don’t align myself with any one faith or text or dogma (even you, science). But I do intuitively believe that material life is like a great drama, with many characters all playing their parts of mother, father, child, friend, enemy, sinner, saint, etc. I also believe in a “capital-C” Creator in some sense, or an original force of creation that is imbued in every atom vibrating in this universe. I feel that everything is alive, and communicating, and we humans are little mirrors of the greater Being (verb not noun), shining back small reflections of unfathomable greatness, pain, destruction, bliss, unity, difference, ecstasy...... something like a bigass disco ball. maybe the universe is just endlessly fractaling disco balls, and the supposed duality between “Creator” and “created” is irrelevant and there is no sub-creation, no succession at all; indeed, only creation. Maybe.

I could segue this entire essay into a discussion on non-duality as a philosophy and try to argue whether the idea of sub-creation aligns with or opposes it, but I won’t.

So I just take some and leave some from Tolkien’s concept.

As I understand it, Tolkien sees the primary creator (whether that be Eru or his Catholic God) as pure perfection, the vessel of all goodness, abundance, and vitality, and, as was already mentioned, the only one with the ability to make conjure existence out of nothing. Any subsequent creation, like man for example, will therefore never be able to replicate this complete perfection, but will instead “reflect a splintered fragment of the true light” (his words). And so, only by building worlds and creating myths can humans aspire to reveal/identify this light embedded in their own existence.

I think atheists and non-atheists alike can agree on this at least: that all sentient and non-sentient beings are a product of some sort of immaculate conception, whether that be the Big Bang, or the decree of Allah/God/Brahma/etc, or the hatching of a great egg. 

But the agreement ends when it comes to whether or not this has an impact on human nature and the nature of all living things. 

 In Hinduism and Buddhism, for instance, human nature is seen as related to divine nature, and the main task for human beings is the overcome the perception of individuality and become part of All That Is. Taoism further emphasizes the importance of cultivating “chi,” or our life force, through living in harmony with nature in order to enter the kingdom of heaven and gain eternal life. In Semitic religions like Judaism and Islam, the Self is thought of as distinct from and dependent on the divine; therefore it is important to live in gratitude and obedience toward God. Any disobedience, or sin, is not necessarily rooted in human nature, but must be corrected. In early Christianity, humans are seen an embodied image of God, but one that requires the “continuous creative activity of God,” without which they would return to earth, or dust.  ("Human Nature, Religious and Philosophical Aspects ." Encyclopedia of Science and Religion.) However, around the 4th century CE the Christian Doctrine of original sin emerged, which holds that humans are born corrupted by sin as a result of the fall of Adam, and that “wickedness is a property of the human heart” (“What is the Biblical Evidence for Original Sin?” desiringGod.org). Despite this, some denominations of Christians, like many Quakers, believe in the doctrine of “inward light,” which holds that God is in everyone and that humans are inherently good.

Very briefly I will just add that various philosophical and scientific trends throughout history have then added to/erased/replaced these understandings of the human condition. And along with them, there has also been evolving understanding of the nature of the non-human world, sentient or otherwise. Some beliefs hold that humans are irrevocably superior to all else because they contain a soul, which others may extend the concept of a soul to some or all of the non-human world. A 2011 study investigated whether different cultural and religious groups were more likely to ascribe personhood to non-human entities such as fire, angels, robots, bears, dogs, fetuses, and deceased humans. It found that while American Indians were likely to think of fire, bears, and fetuses as persons, Atheists were likely to say that robots and dogs were persons, but fetuses and angels were not (Adam Cohen. 2011. Religion, Culture, and the Personification of Non-human Entities.)

This is all just to say that there are many different answers to the question of how we got here, and what implications it has for our existence. And I think answering the how begins to illuminate the answer to the why? why are we here, why do we have a consciousness that allows us to contemplate mysteries such as these? why do we have a world that looks the way it does, with all of its suffering and beauty, diversity and connectedness? 

I want to spend some time with the ideas of world-building and myth-creating as ways to understand our collective reality, but simplify them even more to structure and story (partially just for the alliteration).  I think you can look at just about anything through the lens of structure/story, and they are inextricably linked; a real chicken-or-egg situation... 

*it’s the figures and tales we have projected onto the configurations of stars in the night sky: the bull, the water bearer, the great bear, and so on

*it’s the prison walls that hide away what a particular society cannot tolerate, whether that is acts of cruelty, taboos, people of a certain race....

*it's the Ganges river, full of bodies that are not even entirely cremated because there are too many other bodies piled up on the shore, waiting for their rite of passage

*it’s the bathroom stall, scribbled over with tags, political slogans, and love notes

*it’s the bed where, under the covers, the first “I love you” is tentatively whispered

It's the bathhouse, grandma’s kitchen, the office elevator, the playground, the parliament chamber, the country borderline, it’s a deserted island, it’s Hong Kong, it’s the cup you always use, it's the photo you can’t look at anymore, the small mementos you carry around with you from place to place....... 

It’s peace, war, reconciliation, fear, inspiration, justice, play, nostalgia.......

When I think about structure more, I see it, in its most reductionist form, composed of bonds and spaces///matter and void. Take soil as an example. In Regenesis, George Monbiot explains a recent “Theory of Soil” proposed by scientists in 2020, which is essentially that soil is composed of “structures within structures within structures” (23). tiny particles are stuck together with carbon-based polymers, or cements, that microbes excrete; as creatures of all sizes (earthworms, fungi, bacteria, mites, etc.) colonize and move through/establish themselves in the soil, they create holes of different sizes, into which water and chemicals released by plants and animals can flow. This complexity is multiplied by time, as more and different species wriggle their little bodies around, and the result ends up being, in Monbiot’s words, an “endlessly ramifying catacomb” (24). The most interesting part, to me, about Monbiot's musings on soil, is when he mentions fractal scaling, and says that the structure of soil is consistent at any scale of magnification. 

Fractal scaling and this image of a complex, growing catacomb makes me immediately think of bread dough and models of the universe. In the words of Seamus Blackley: “rising dough is actually a pretty good analogy for the expansion of the universe; every little bit of flour in the dough is getting farther away simultaneously from every other bit of flour all at the same time. This is what the universe seems to do. Weird huh?” (Twitter)

There is also a popular analogy in cosmology that compares the way that galaxies move in our expanding universe to the way that raisins move in a rising loaf of raisin bread. 

 when I think about stories, the first things that come to mind are obviously religions, folklore, myths.....etc. In some ways, these are like structures because they are also bonds and spaces, in the sense that stories are merely people/places/ideas plucked out of the infinite imagination and woven together like tapestries. Different cultures have different conceptions of what a story is, and the acceptable amount of deviation from logic or temporal/spatial linearity can vary. But what is consistent is that stories change and evolve. 

Take the environmental movement in the US, for example.

It is an amalgam of stories driven by religion, racism, ethics, profit, science and so on, and serves as an illuminating example of the inseparability of knowledge and power. (Like Foucault says, society’s dominant narratives are always embedded in power relations, and how consequently, those with the upper hand will have more say in what ideas and stories, or discourses, become mainstream.) 

One specific story that we can explore further is the construction of wilderness and the “pristine myth” in North America. Influenced by biblical doctrine, early Europeans equated wilderness with the unknown and saw it as something to be feared; but by the time the first colonists invaded the Americas, wilderness had been ideologically transformed into something representing bountiful resources and requiring human stewardship. Colonizers dehumanized the indigenous peoples of North America and trivialized their relationship with the land, as they believed that “forests were wild because Indians and beasts lived there, and Indians were wild because they lived in the forests” (Hopson, 2011). This provided justification both for interfering with the physical landscape and driving indigenous people out of their territories. 

However, in the middle of the 19th century, on the edge of the civil war and in a period of cultural insecurity, Americans began to revere wilderness as a symbol of moral purity and stability. There had also been years of rampant destruction of nature through logging and hunting, and people were beginning to see the negative effects of this. This laid the foundation for the transcendental cultural movement that later inspired John Muir who, along with Teddy Roosevelt, sequestered millions of acres of land to create the first national parks, Yellowstone and Yosemite. Doing so, though, required the forcible removal and exclusion of the land’s native inhabitants. These were people who had cultural and spiritual ties with the land and who, contrary to the narrative of the “Noble Savage Myth,” had been altering the landscapes for hundreds of years through slash-and-burn cultivation, hunting, etc. The persisting myth of wilderness in North America, codified in the 1964 Wilderness Act, has consequently excluded indigenous people from land in order to preserve it for the recreation of others (i.e. white middle-class people, whom the parks were created for in the first place), and has become the ideological foundation of American conservation efforts both domestic and abroad. 

Therefore, it is crucial to question and interrogate our own stances, the narratives we buy into and perpetuate on a daily basis, and consider what new stories can be told in order to create a more equitable, just world.

Now, maybe a lot of what I have written so far is a bit disjointed and hard to follow. Maybe you’re asking “where is this all going?” (I have asked myself the same question several times throughout the writing process, that’s for sure).

But to me, all this talk about religion and human nature and structure and story comes back to the fact that I think, as humans, we are all trying to find a glimmer of purpose in this life. Regardless of whether you think there is no objective reality and we all live in a simulation of some sort, or that we are splinters of a very tangible divinity, or the product of a funny little physics experiment, we were all granted the ability to ponder each of these possibilities and align ourselves with one that fits our view of the world. This is a gift and a curse, and up to us what we do with it. 

And if we really look around us, at all the other species we share this planet with, at the clouds and stars above us, and the leaves falling down around us, we see that movement, change, growth and decay are the universal truths. Even mountains, seemingly immutable giants, are dancing -- they just dance on a different time scale than us. To the mountain, we are like small ephemeral insects, zooming around at a sped-up pace, growing, fucking, reproducing, and dying. 

And here, on the farm, we are trying to create a little microcosm of life.  We try to observe and interact with nature as our great Teacher, and practices like permaculture and biodynamics can offer a methodology for doing so. Where possible, we use the gifts of the land-- from seaweed to sand to green material and wild edibles. We try to understand the structures all around us (soil, plant morphology, water systems, microclimates, etc.), and try to chip away at some of the most harmful stories in agriculture (yield and profit > quality of produce and health of land, etc.) and build up new, beautiful ones. While farming fundamentally requires us to manipulate land for our benefit (growing food and other crops), it also gives us an opportunity to maximize its potential for providing habitats to other species, collecting rainwater, storing carbon, and overall becoming more diverse. And diversity offers resilience, especially as we face unprecedented times ahead. 

Leaving a piece of land better than I found it is enough to let me lie easy on my deathbed. 

We are immersed in the ebbing tide of Life and Death and Life and Death and Life again. Transformation. Alchemy. The story of resurrection. If God or Creator is imbued in every living and non-living being, if even just as a splintered fragment of light, then connecting with as many of these as possible gives us ample opportunities to see this light and get to know God/Creator/Source/etc. better. There is magic in each and every one of them, in the niches they occupy, and in the greater systems they are a part of. And then we realize that it’s all one massive beautiful web, and us humans are just one shining dewdrop upon it. 

References

“The Subcreation Theory of J.R.R. Tolkien” https://gwern.net/doc/fiction/science-fiction/2015-mirante-thesubcreationtheoryofjrrtolkien.html

“Regenesis” by George Monbiot, 2022.

“Human Nature, Religious and Philosophical Aspects” https://www.encyclopedia.com/education/encyclopedias-almanacs-transcripts-and-maps/human-nature-religious-and-philosophical-aspects

“What is the Biblical Evidence for Original Sin?” https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/what-is-the-biblical-evidence-for-original-sin

María Del Rincón Yohn (2021) J.R.R. Tolkien’s sub-creation theory: literary creativity as participation in the divine creation, Church, Communication and Culture, 6:1, 17-33, DOI: 10.1080/23753234.2021.1886860

[samanthagardner]

Week 5 Post

After reviewing the assigned reading and video for this week, I think there are a few major points to be discussed about how internet business models influence surveillance and data gathering on the internet. Not long along, obtaining large amounts of data was a new concept, and not necessarily one that could be fathomed by all. As time as gone on, the scope of data gathering has become so incredibly large. The government, different websites, and other forms of technology are quite literally always gathering some sort of data. How many clicks did the post get? How many shares? What audience are the algorithms actually hitting and how are these people impacted? The storage of all of this data is what can be extremely concerning. Where is all of our personal information going and who can gain access? The fear of the unknown is so common in todays world because so many questions either go unanswered, or are unanswerable.

Advertising is the worlds go to according to the article “The Internet’s biggest sin.” One of the biggest points made in this article is that they messed up, and it was never intended to be the way it is. Advertisements can be addictive. Whether your lured in by visuals or wording, or pop up ads, they are always around and we have reached a point to where we don’t even realize that advertising is always right there in front of us. This article also refers to the filtered bubble placed around us due to the algorithms. The algorithms also helped collect data that may or may not need surveillance. The idea of paying for privacy may seem odd at first, but I think people seek this quality of life that presents privacy… so much. And paying for it may no longer seem as crazy.

[mechanicalinertia]

STMPD Recommends Bubblegum Crisis Fanfiction: Craig A Reed Jr's Vigilante's Run

The next entry in Bubblegum Crucible, and this time the New Guy in Town isn’t Iron Man, but The Punisher.

I am absolutely serious. Our boy Nemesis - aka Gavin Belasko - is an ex-Army Ranger who got back from tour, saw his parents gunned down by Organized Crime (In NY, too!) before taking up the life of a vigilante who kills criminals and doesn’t spare them - and whose hardsuit has a skull emblem on its faceplate. You can’t get more Death Wish-y than this. Oh, he still tries to spare innocent lives, but not by much! And yeah, now he’s in Megatokyo following a branch of the Sleeping Dragon Yakuza in San Angeles killing some woman, apparently a relative of a friend of his - and yeah, this time he’s in it to burn Megatokyo’s biggest crime syndicate to the ground, with both a light hardsuit, a heavy hardsuit, and a heavily-armed big-rig. My God does this guy have firepower on board.

The Sabers don’t even really mean to cross paths with Nemesis at first, but it happens. Priss and Leon go on a tsundere-date, get stuck with Nemesis as he burns down the drug lab in the upper floors, don’t leave when the Yakuza escort everyone out because they’re both curious people, and accidentally end up on the end of a Gerlitch squeezebore rifle he stole from the Yaks. He tells them to stay out of his way. As a Saber, though - she does not.

The big fight scene that is the heart of this (unfinished) fanfic is quite something, as Nemesis swaps from a light hardsuit to a heavy one, as he uses mortars to pulverise a mercenary K-Suit outfit, as the Sabers are downed in a crash zone as they attempt to survey the whole clusterfuck. The Sabers barely manage to hold off what’s left of the K-Squad, there’s an annoying scene where Nene is useless and has to be saved by Nemesis, he tells them to stay out of his way. Priss is unnerved by the guy, Linna is sickened by his take-no-prisoners attitude, Sylia’s coping, Nene tries to dig up some stuff on Nemesis - and we get to hear all that background from Nemesis’s little sister’s flashback (she, too, is a hacker, and she’s meant to be the thing which grounds Nemesis, since he’s too young to have that sort of action-man daughter).

Meanwhile, as Sleeping Dragon is weakened, various other ethnically-themed syndicates (it’s so goddamn 80’s holy shit) agree to a temporary alliance to take down Sato and secure his turf.

Meanwhile, Skeeter Karns from last time is staying out of it, Leon has an N-Police partner who primarily serves as a Bitch Who is Wrong About Everything so Leon can lay out how much of a Stone Cold Badass Skeeter is (among other things), and Nemesis manages to pocket enough cash from the burned-down drug lab (how?) to donate to the orphanage where Priss left Sho in OVA 3 (what?). That last paragraph, and the Nene-is-useless thing, are what I really hate about this fic. But everything else is… different.

It has the potential to be better than Black Knights Steel Hearts, that’s the thing. Would it ever live up to that potential? I’m unsure, honestly. Knowing Reed’s cops-n’-robbers politics (did I mention he had Mallory buy out Priss’s club so she could stay there? And so that it could become an ADP cop bar? That seems like the kind of thing Priss would have hated earnestly, but she just kind of lets the men make a big decision like that for her), where the only way to deal with criminals is more and bigger guns, death for all those who dare oppose the security state, Nemesis would have ended up being an unalloyed Good Guy Who Does What Is Necessary To Keep America Megatokyo Great Safe. I might sound a little cranky, but he gets one of those personal philosophy monologues in one of the later chapters where he calls criminals jackals who only understand force. That’s not my politics, suffice to say.

But, look, the big fight scene is much better, there was a promise of more (Nemesis dealt with his enemies usually within 4 days, and he had only spent 1 day or so), and the moral question was very, very unanswered. That gave the whole story, like so many unfinished things, some potential to be something other than what it was.

And that was what inspired me to, as my first big fanfiction project, attempt to continue it. And that… got away from me. More on that in the next post (not a bad-fic, just a continuation).

[ailuronymy]

back when i first wrote wc fanfic i wrote cishet abled characters, and now after a few years of now writing i want to write again. but i'm so afraid of accidentally being transphobic when writing a trans cat coming to terms with their true gender or evoking a cliche i didn't know about when writing a lesbian couple... i want to write diverse characters but i also don't, what do i do?

My dear Ruddles, you are asking me one of the biggest and most unanswerable writing questions of all: how do I not be afraid? I want to know the answer as much as anyone, so I can’t help you there, but I can tell you some of my observations and thoughts on ways of working through these kinds of paralysing fears. 

The first thing to understand is that there is no version of events where you are safe from criticism. There is no safe option, where if you only write that kind of character or that kind of story, you will be protected from having to experience criticism. I think you, like many people, have made the mistake of thinking that writing only able-bodied cishet characters will insulate you from criticism, whereas writing characters who aren’t able-bodied cishets will open you up to criticism. That thinking can make the idea of branching outside what you’re used to very daunting, because you feel more vulnerable. 

However, that thinking is wrong. You are always vulnerable. I’m not saying that you scare you more, or make you anxious. This thought is a liberating one, if you approach it from the right angle! No matter what you write, someone is going to dislike it, or be totally neutral about it, or disinterested in it, or might even hate it. That’s just what it is to be a writer of any kind–or any kind of creator. If you want to be a writer, you’re accepting that you will be criticised at some point: it could be for good reasons, it could be for silly ones, it could be because someone decides they just really don’t like what you like to write. It doesn’t matter! It happens to everyone. You cannot please everyone and you don’t have to. You only need to do your best work. You need to love your work enough that someone else disliking it doesn’t make you love it less. 

I had the opportunity some months back to go to a writers’ festival, and listen to a heap of extremely skilled, established creators (novelists, poets, performance artists, journalists, all kinds) show their work, talk about their process, and discuss certain themes and topics on panels. One panel was about the anxiety and uncertainty that’s part of writing. There was a lot said during this panel that really helped me personally and changed how I thought, but the most relevant bit for you was said by Omar Musa: “Accept that you will face criticism. That’s part of the job. That’s the game you’re in.” 

When you decide what kind of character to write–i.e., between able-bodied cishet characters or a more diverse cast–you aren’t choosing between “no criticism” (able-bodied cishet) and “criticism” (diverse). You are simply shaping what kind of criticism you might receive. If you write only able-bodied cishet characters, the criticism you will get will reflect that: you will be criticised for your lack of diversity, your work might be called boring or derivative, you might be accused of -isms based on how a story built only with privileged characters takes shape. 

If you write diverse characters, your criticism will reflect that: you will be criticised for including diversity (”why does everything have to be X these days???” or “I don’t understand why Y was there, it wasn’t plot-relevant”) or accused of pandering, you will be criticised for how you write these characters by people who might mean well but have only ever read stereotypes (”next time you write about X character, I think you should do it differently, I just don’t think it’s realistic that [some nonsense opinion]”), you will be criticised for how you write these characters by people who are similar to these characters but in all likelihood different people will probably give you totally different feedback and have different responses to your work (person one: “I didn’t like how you did X, it was uncomfortable for me”; person two: “I was really into how you did X and it resonated with me, it was fun to have a character I could relate to like that”), and so on. 

When I think about this, it makes the choice easier: I would rather take criticism for attempting diversity than criticism for not even attempting it. What also makes all writing easier is remembering that, although it can feel very personal to be criticised for something you made, at the end of the day, it’s just a chunk of words. It’s not sacred. It’s not you. It’s a thing that you made, and if you made mistakes, next time around you can learn from it and do better. We can all change as soon as we choose to, and therefore a mistake who wrote isn’t who you always have to be. You don’t have to be perfect to be doing your best. 

If you do your best before putting your work out into the world, you don’t have to worry. If you’ve done your research and had a beta/sensitivity reader (if you can, it’s not always possible and not always necessary for every piece of work) and genuinely tried to do good and respond appropriately to feedback along the way, you don’t need to fret. You might still get criticism and if you do, that’s good. Constructive criticism is an opportunity to grow; you can see it as a slight against you as a person or you can see it as a chance to improve as a writer and expand your worldview/knowledge. I can really recommend the latter. 

I can also strongly recommend working to separate your feelings of self-worth from your writing as much as you can, because then you can disengage from criticism on a personal level and engage with it on a critical one. Not all criticism is useful or good or relevant! Some feedback you will get and laugh at. I don’t respond to/post most of the negative feedback I’ve received running this blog, but wowsers, do some people use some choice words about me! If you only receive criticism as personal, you will be tempted to believe all of it or value it more than it needs to be valued, whereas if you look at criticism with a critical eye, you will be able to judge what’s helpful, what’s nonsense, what’s worth listening to and learning from, what’s someone airing their personal grievances and has simply selected you as a target, and what’s totally tone-deaf and inappropriate. 

Also, it’s okay to know your limits. You’re a growing writer. You’ve got a lot of experience yet to have. The weight of curing the whole world’s problems isn’t on your shoulders alone. You don’t have to do everything. You don’t have to try to represent everyone in every story you write. Some stories are going to have a central focus: it’s what you’re passionate about. It’s the story you need to tell, because you can’t get it out of your head. If you don’t have it yet, you can’t force it. I’ll find you, and in the meantime, have fun with writing!  Practice new things. Build skills. Read a lot. Read diversely! Experience living in the world, because that’s probably the best way to grow as a person and a writer. That way, when you do find things that feel right and good and important to write about, you’ll be able to do them justice. I really feel there is something uniquely powerful about sincerity and love in a story–it shines through, and the writing is always better for it. 

So, basically, to try to make a long story short: 

1. you will be criticised. You can either accept that, or not write. You can go, “Okay, but criticism isn’t the end.” You can go, “I want to be a better writer, and that means doing new things even if it’s scary and I might make mistakes.” For me, the love of writing outweighs the fear of criticism. The idea that things might go right (if I try my best) is more powerful than the worry that they might go wrong. 

2. writing is a hobby. It’s an art that you can practice and improve. It might feel important and central to who you are, but it’s a skill, like riding a bicycle or juggling. If someone tells you how to ride a bike better, you can either go, “That’s sensible, next time I ride a bike I’ll sit on the seat instead of running alongside the damn thing,” or you can go, “I’m a terrible fool for not knowing how to ride a bike, I will never ride a bike again because I am worthless and bad.” When you handle sensitive material about the real world and real people’s lives, it’s important to do everything you can beforehand to learn about how to ride a bike–but if you do mess up and run over someone’s toes or be a hazard in some way, don’t cling to your pride: apologise, learn, move on, do better. 

3. never write anything out of a feeling of obligation or fear. You will do it badly, because it’s very hard to write anything you’re not personally interested and invested in. You might be feeling guilty for only writing a certain type of character, but unless you can shift that guilt to genuine excitement and desire to write different types of character, don’t bother! If you write out of guilt, it will be miserable for everyone, including yourself. Also, recognise that you can write certain types of character without having to engage with stickier issues that might come with the character type–i.e., you give the example of trans characters, but if you’re not trans, it’s not really your business writing in-depth about “the trans experience,” especially if you’re not already very familiar with it and involved in the community and confident in working in that area. You almost surely can’t do it justice and will stumble into problems and will likely receive some harsh, and probably deserved, criticism. The solution is to write about well-developed trans characters whose “trans journey” (or whatever you want to call it) isn’t a central focus of their story or characterisation, because they’re already living as/accepted as their gender, etc.! 

I hope this is somewhat helpful to you, Ruddles, and I hope in the future you’ll find your feet writing more diversely! Try not to put too much pressure on yourself to begin with. Pick one new thing and explore that. There’s no hurry. You can get there in your own time. Good luck!

[everglowmark]

Stay For a Little While

Words: 1.4k

Prompt: You miss him. You miss him so much. After sneaking out of the dorms in the middle of the night to see you, Mark comforts you after not seeing each other for a long time. 

Genre: Fluff with a pinch of angst (does salt bae meme)

A/N: This scenario was based off a song called “Stay” by The Sam Willows (I love it so much omg; listen here) The lyric “stay for a little while” got stuck in my head for days and this scenario was created as I thought about the words more and more :) This is my first scenario on tumblr! It’s been a while since I’ve written anything so hopefully I’m not too rusty in the writing department. Also, requests are welcome~ Enjoy~!

The sound of Mark’s rapping met your ears as you watched him and NCT perform on the television screen before you. A smile made its way to your face as the camera zoomed in on his dancing figure, focusing all the attention on him as the performance came to an end. You and Mark have been dating for months now and you couldn’t be any happier with your relationship. You haven’t seen Mark in over a month, aside from the everyday texts and phone calls but you can’t blame him for his busy schedule. With training, promotions, school, and your own schooling as well, being able to see each other made it difficult for the both of you.

A breeze danced by you from your apartment window, making you shiver from the chilly summer evening. You rubbed your arms for warmth, trying to comfort yourself from the chilly wind. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you couldn’t help but recall Mark’s hugs, how he would sway you back and forth whenever you and he would embrace for long periods of time, the way he rested his forehead on your shoulder, you running a hand through his dyed hair. His presence, his lovable and contagious laugh, his kisses, you missed it all.

With a sigh you stood up from your comfy position on the couch and walked to the window, pushing down on the rigid white frame to close it. You watched as the sun started to set in the distance, its aura slowly disappearing from the sky, signaling that the day was almost over and that night will make its greeting shortly.

Running a hand through your hair, you sauntered back to the couch and lay down on your back, your eyes staring at the blank ceiling above you. You would never break up with Mark. You would never. However, it was times like these where you doubt how long you could take it; missing hours of conversations that would make you lose track of time, not having the shoulder to lean on when you were hitting rough patches; it was draining you.

You closed your eyes, trying to forget the thoughts in your head. With the murmur of the television in the background and your mind filled with unanswerable questions, you disconnected from the world around you and slowly fell asleep.

 Your mind was at ease.

You were sitting upon a cloud, overlooking the industrious city below you as the same sun you watched from your apartment window was still setting, the tangerine rays fading into the mauve sky. As you felt the delicate cloud under your fingertips, the image of the evening sky around you went black and the feeling of arms was under your legs and shoulders.

Wait, arms?

Waking from your dream, your hazy eyes tried to fix on the dim face of the person who was holding you. Gaining vision, your eyes broadened when you met the familiar gentle eyes that were staring at your relaxed form. As your body felt the smooth duvet covers of your bed, you soon realized that you were being carried bridal style to your room by Mark, the guy you who were desperately missing the entire day.

Immediately you leaped from your bed, tightly embracing Mark. When his arms secured around your waist and he started swaying you side to side, you become overwhelmed. A sob crawled up your throat but you held it in, not wanting to cry.

“Hi.” You peeped from his shoulder.

You regretted saying a word as tears started rolling down your cheeks.

“Hey, hey...” He muttered, “It’s okay, I got you.”

Resting his chin on top of your head, he continued swaying you, trying to soothe you as he rubbed your back lightly.

Placing a light kiss on your forehead, he grabbed the sides of your face, wiping the tears with his thumbs. 2:43 AM glared red from your digital clock on your night stand.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, your voice slightly cracking as tears continued to fall from your swollen eyes.  

Using the sleeves of his hoodie, Mark continued to dab the tears away, determined to prevent the droplets from rolling further down your face.

“I wanted to visit you.”

Grabbing one of your hands, he brought it to his lips, lightly kissing the back of it. Leading you over to your bed, the both of you sat on the edge, still holding hands longingly as his fingers laced with yours.

“It wasn’t easy leaving the dorms, you know,” Mark said, looking down at your entwined hands.

You nudged closer to him, resting your head comfortably on his shoulder.

“Before I left, it took me so long to find your spare key because I placed it in one of my jackets and someone borrowed it so I had to quickly search the dorms before everyone went to sleep.”

You smirked, imagining a frantic Mark ransacking the dorms and turning it upside down.

“The biggest problem was that I had to sneak past Taeyong.”

You both chuckled as Mark wrapped an arm loosely around your waist.

“Ah geez, I never snuck out of the dorms this late before. What would he say about this if he finds out?”

“He would just blame your rebellious behaviour on puberty again.” You giggled.

Mark couldn’t help but cackle as he hit his leg a few times, a habit he did whenever he laughed. As his laughter died down he slowly examined your face. The moonlight from your bedroom window shined faintly through the room, casting shadows over your features. Noticing the dark rings under your eyes, he sighed, guiltily looking away.

“Maybe coming here at 3 in the morning wasn’t a good idea,” He said timidly, “When I got here, I saw you sleeping on the couch and you looked so relaxed but I figured you would be more comfortable in your bed instead.”

Looking up, you observed Mark’s face; his eyebrows were furrowed and he was biting his lip, a sign that he was upset.

“I interrupted your sleep and you won’t get enough rest.”

Mark shut his eyes and hung his head low, the darkness hiding his face.

You sighed and shook your head at his silliness.

With a gentle hand, you gracefully traced his jawline with your finger, noticing how more defined it has become than before.

Mark lifted his head slightly, responding to your touch but still not looking in your direction.  Using your index finger and thumb, you held his chin and turned his head, making him look at you. Opening his eyes, the tension in his expression relaxed as he stared at you with softened eyes before briefly glancing at your lips.

Slowly, you leaned in, closing the distance as you pressed your lips against his tenderly. Mark responded back sweetly, his lips softly brushing yours. Bringing his hand up, he held the side of your face carefully as if you were a fragile china doll. You leaned into his touch, your heart beating rapidly realizing how long you had missed his kisses. Reluctantly, you pulled away, missing the warmth on your lips as you breathed for air.

“Losing sleep is worth it if I get to see you.” You smiled.

Mark mirrored your smile before looking over your shoulder at your clock. His smile disappeared, his lips pursing into a straight line.

“I… I should probably get going. Just in case someone does figure out that I’m gone.”

You pouted, making your expression exaggerated as much as you could, doing your best puppy eyes. Mark giggled at your frown, pecking your lips briefly.

“That face can’t work on me forever, Y/N.”

“Damn it.” You muttered.

Mark chuckled, lightly kissing the center of your forehead.

You looked down as you played with your fingers anxiously.

“C-Could you… Stay for a little while?” You asked, “Until I fall asleep?”

He thought for a moment, considering your question before he moved over, propping your pillows upright as he sat against the headboard of your bed. He patted his hand beside him, motioning you to come over.

Moving from the edge of the bed, you laid beside him, resting your head against his chest as he hung his arm around your shoulders loosely.

A yawn escaped your lips as you draped your arm across his torso, snuggling into his side.

Your eyes fluttered, eventually closing as sleep was taking over your body.

“Goodnight, love you.” He whispered.

“Night, love you too.”

[avenger09]

Mass Effect Galaxy's Collide: Banter

Wrex: Nakmor Drack! You old son of a bitch! How are doing?

Drack: Ah about as well as I always have Wrex. I still creek in the same places and I'm on my last heart. But you already knew that. Now you, that's where the action is. Heard you managed to get the Krogan's collective Ass's in line.

Wrex: Oh we did more than that... Drack... We cured the Genophage.

Drack: Fuck off!

Wrex: I'm not kidding. We had help from Shepard even an old Slalarian, of all people. Name of Mordin Solus. Gave his life doing it too.

Drack: Your serious. Holy Crap, wait till Kesh hear’s about... We can’t tell anyone here.

Wrex: What? Why not? Drack: Think about it. Most came out here cause their was no place or hope for them back in the Milky Way. You tell them the biggest shame our people have been forced to bare for millennia is gone they will be too. The entire Krogan population here would piss off right back to Tuchunka. From what I hear you don’t need that. Wrex: Damn. I don’t like it, but.. -sigh- Damn.” 

---

Jaal: You... died?

Shepard: Yes.

Jaal: That is... Hmm, quite the feat. I'm, not sure how to broach it.

Shepard: It's no picnic for me either. It’s been years since I'm still trying to make sense of it.

Jaal: Angara believe in reincarnation but to have actually Died, and returned to where you left off, to live the same lifetime again? I can't imagine trying to cope with that.

Shepard: Liara helps. Even said she was sure it was me the moment she touched me again.

Liara: And I meant every word.

Jaal: You are a very lucky man.

---

Grunt: Hear your tryin' to get your species back on the map.

Javik: You heard correctly. Samples of my DNA will be used alongside that of the Collectors who escaped the Reapers control during the war.

Grunt: That's great. Having more then one Four Eyes to look at will finally set the record straight.

Javik: I'm going to regret this. But what record?

Grunt: Whether or not all Protheans are pricks or if it's just you.

Javik: Well you may get your chance. Though I doubt I will be there to partake. Some have said the race may be restored in my lifetime but even so, the most optimistic projection's show it will take Generations before we have a stable population again.

Grunt: Hey you can at least be proud that thanks to you, you've given your race a second chance.

Javik: I intend to be.

Grunt: There will probably be a statue of you and everything. Don’t worry I’ll make sure that it fully encapsulate’s your ego.

Javik: In those conditions it would probably be 20 feet tall and be holding a gun ten times too big and impossible to fire.

Grunt: Please, what do you take me for? It’ll be 10 feet tall and the gun will be just like the one you always use. It be offensive if it wasn’t. 

Javik: Good man.

---

PeeBee: Y'know I'd written off the Prothean's as one of those big boring unanswerable questions like the haunted city. Or why chicken tastes like everything. Figures that it'd only get interesting the second I left.

Ryder: Come on. There’s probably tons of hidden stuff about them just begging to be uncovered. PeeBee: I’d believe you if it wasn’t for the 4 foot insect who would beg to differ. Javik: I am not five feet. I am 5.5.

PeeBee: And another mystery that was solved without me. Leave me alone for bit, now I’m all cranky.

---

PeeBee: So... uh, your a parent huh?

Liara: Yes. I know it's strange, most of us wait until they're at least 300 before they even think about becoming a parent. But when you have gone through what we had, It just felt right.

PeeBee: Wow, strangely jealous of you now. Guess I'm just glad I've finally met another Asari who isn't all wait, wait, wait. Though I think I'll hold off on that particular step for awhile... Well, that is unless I find my own Shepard of course.

Liara: -Chuckle- I wish you luck. Although I like to think I may have cornered that particular market.

PeeBee: Ha! Showoff.

---

Garrus: There's something familiar about you I just place where from?

Ryder: Well uh, I don't really see how. Not unless? Where ever stationed on the Citadel?

Garrus: That's It! You where one the Ryder twins. I busted the two of you years ago for vandalism back in C-Sec.

Ryder: Oh. Ohhh... I'd almost forgotten about that. You dragged us by the arms right up to our apartment... Dad was so annoyed.

Garrus: Small universe. Well what have you up to lately? Staying out of trouble I hope.

Ryder: Oh you know can't complain. Went to another Galaxy, saved a star cluster from an ego-maniacal tyrant boring stuff like that. Yourself?

Garrus: Much of the same. Got swept up in defeating a age old threat. Quit my job to became a Vigilante on Omega, helped save the entire Milky Way and all it's future generations. Even adopted a couple kids with my girlfriend. Whose even keeping score?

Ryder: No one I hope. Jesus.

---

Grunt: Battlemaster, this place is awesome! These Kett are coming at me blades like true warriors. I've gotten ten new scars just in the last day alone.

Shepard: Grunt where's your gun?

Grunt: Oh I left it in head of one of those invisible bastards. Which is when the blade guys showed up so I-.

Shepard: Grunt go get your gun back this instant .

Grunt: But Battlemaster...

Sheperd: No but's. Your not going back out there without a firearm I'm I clear?

Grunt: -sigh- Yes Battlemaster. I'll go get my gun back.

Sheperd: I swear he'd loose his plates if they weren't attached.

Drack: Tell me about it. Kids these days are always jumping into melee without thinking. It's all fun and games until some smartass pulls a out piece and blows away the charging idiot. Then whose laughing?

Shepard: Not us that's for sure.

---

Shepard: Grunt, Liara and I will be busy tomorrow. I'd like to know if you could you watch Zia for us?

Grunt: Be assured Battlemaster, if my incompetence should cause my clan sister harm I will glady step into the most barren waste I can find and spend the next ten years wandering for atonement.

Shepard: Good to hear.

Liara: Just don't actually do that if she just stumble's and bang her shin or something. 

Grunt: Well of course. I was making sure you understood how serious I take this duty you've given me.

---

A Wormhole was involved.

[blunt-but-cautious]

100 BRAVE QUESTIONS

1.What’s the toughest decision you made today? Rame, or protein shake. I chose ramen.

2.What’s the toughest decision you made this year? Hold on, let go

3.What’s the toughest decision you ever made? Plan C 🤷🏼‍♀️

4.What have you forgotten? A lot of things.

5.What do you want to be when you grow up? Happy

6.What’s it like being you right now? Pretty messy.

7.What makes you nostalgic?puppies

8.If you had two hours left on earth what would you do?jump out of a plane

9.What’s the most beautiful word in the world?Food

10.Who makes you laugh more than anyone? Friend Brandelle

11.What did your father teach you? Everything I know

12.What did your mother teach you? What not to do.

13.What’s the best gift you’ve ever given? No idea.

14..Best gift you ever received? My dog Marley.

15.How many times a day do you look in the mirror? At least 50. Im a girl.. gosh

16.What do you bring most to a friendship? Laughter

17.If 100 people in your age group were selected randomly, how many do you think they’d find leading a happier life than you? 75%

18.What is or was your best subject in school?english/writing

19What activity do you do that makes you feel most like yourself?Drawing.

20.What makes you feel supported? My bra

21. Whom do you secretly admire? Well then it's not a secret is it?

22.What time of the day do you feel the most energetic and what do you usually do in those moments? 9am broadcast

23.What’s something you never leave home without? My phone

24.What’s a recurring dream you have? Me being murdered. Sadly lol

25.What makes you feel safe? My dad

26.What’s the best thing that ever happened to you?i can't think right now.

27.What do you want people to say about you once you’re gone? Idk that I was a good person..

28.What’s the coolest thing about science? I hated science

29.What’s the best money you ever spent? All the money I spend on food

30.What’s a bad habit you have? Keeping things bottled up

31.What are you grateful for? Life

32.Whom are you envious of? Vanessa Hudgens

33.What’s an image you’ll never forget? New Year's Eve. Going into 2015.

34.Describe a near-death experience. Got in a car with a drunk driver, wrecked and totaled it

35.If you had a clone, what would you have the clone do? My eyeliner

36.What’s your idea of Heaven?puppies.

37.What’s your idea Hell? No pickles. Or puppies

38.When did you know? Know what

39.What can you do better? Love myself

40.When are you most yourself? When I'm alone

41.What superpower would you most like to have? Reading minds

42.If you were granted three wishes, what would you do with the second wish? Be rich

43.What is your actual superpower? I think I'm pshycic sometimes

44.If you won 100 million dollars, what would you buy first? A house

45.What’s the best sound in the world? LANY

46.What’s perfect about your life? Nothing

47.What song do you sing only when you’re alone and what memory does it bring back? Hallelujah. no memories. I don't even know why but I'm always signing that song by myself.

48.Describe a moment you were so embarrassed you wanted to disappear. Everytime I'm put on the spot at a public event.

49.How many times a day do you think about money? 3 or 4.

50.Who has been the biggest influence on you in your relationship to money? I dunno.

51.What’s one thing you’re certain of? Things will be better

52.Describe one of your colossal failures. Idk really.

53.What makes you cringe? 90% of my status' on MySpace and Facebook from 6th to like 10th grade. 🙈

54.What does your inner voice tell you? Do better

55.What crime have you considered committing? I've done a few actually.

56.What’s great about your mom? She gave birth to me

57.What’s great about your dad? He is thoughtful & puts everyone above himself

59.Which day would you gladly re-live? There's a lot.

60.What are you awesome at? Uhhhh.... softball I guess

61.What do you want people you meet for the first time to think about you? Good things of course

62.When were you most afraid? The beginning of 2015. and the end.

63.What are you terrible at but love to do anyway? Draw/paint

64.What weapon would you carry during the Zombie Apocalypse? Idk. A bat.

65.Which of your five senses would you keep if you could only keep one? Sight

66.What’s something you love to make? Guacamole

67.What do you cook better than anyone? Tacos

68.What do you wish you’d invented? Make up

69.What would you like to invent? A robot to do my makeup however I want it

70.Out of 100 random people, where would you rank yourself in terms of your intelligence? Idk I'm pretty blonde

71.Where do you want to be right now? Somewhere in the sun at the lake with Smirnoff ice

72.If you could be someone else for a day who would it be and why? Mmmm... I don't even know

73.What makes you feel powerful? When I make a big decision.

74.What’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said? "I can't wait to see how shitty your life turns out"

75.What’s the meanest thing someone has ever said to you? "No one will ever love you"

76.What three words would you have on your grave stone? "See you later"

77.What’s your first thought when you wake up? Pee... gotta pee.

78.What’s one thing you wake up to in the middle of the night worrying about? Being home alone

79.If you could tell someone something anonymously, what would it be? I'm sorry

80.Whom would you like to forgive and forget? 🤷🏼‍♀️

81.If you could get rid of one of your responsibilities today, what would it be? Being a maid

82.What type of person angers you the most? Ungrateful people

83.What is your greatest strength? I could control my anger well.

84.What is your worst weakness? Talking to people

85.How do you show your love for others? I'm bad at that.

86.Why are you here in this room right now? I'm cold. Idk. Lazy

87.When is a time you forgave someone or were forgiven for something? Can't remember

88.What’s the biggest mistake you ever made? I don't talk about it

89.What are you hiding? Myself

90.What’s your unanswerable question–the question you seem to always be asking yourself? Why am I this way

91.What are you ashamed of?a few things

92.What is stopping you? Anxiety

93.What’s a secret you have? 🙈

94.How do you secretly manipulate people to get your way? I don't

95.When was the last time you apologized? Like an hour ago

96.What is the biggest lie you tell yourself? Mmmm I don't know

97.What’s the moment you left childhood behind? When my friend moved out of the house she grew up in. My whole childhood was there

98.What’s missing from your life? A lot of things

99.Do you believe in a higher power? Yes

[gofahr]

What Goes Down Must Come Up

I made a big deal about this race all season, and I think that played strongly to my benefit, but also to my detriment once the day finally arrived. I had made it known from the very start of my “career” that my goal was to be the one that takes the title from Katie Compton. At first I only told those close to me, then this year I more openly admitted that I was gunning to win; that I wanted to beat Katie Fn Compton at nationals.

She knew it too, as I gave a speech on self-efficacy at Montana Cross camp and she was there for it. I looked her in the eye and said I was going to beat her at Nationals.

I never considered that I could beat her and still not win. If you have never faced a huge mental/physical obstacle, the difference here may not seem big, but it was.

Nationals being 3,000 miles from home meant it may as well have been in Europe. But then, Europe would have been more convenient, because after flying to the west coast, I flew immediately to Europe, so the week leading up to Nationals I had to deal not just with race nerves, but packing anxiety and the stress of a pending home-sickness. Once I departed my house on Wednesday, December 11, I wasn’t going to be seeing it again until February 21st or so. I was not dealing with these compounded stresses very well. But, I made the last trainings and final preparations and tried to focus on relaxing thoughts. I trusted in the preparations that Chris McGovern and I have laid out.

Arriving on Wednesday night I was not feeling super great after the flight, but, when do the high-altitude fart tubes ever leave one feeling fresh?

Shimano GRX equipped Kona Super Jake on Maxxis All Terranes

Thursday’s trip the venue was a soggy one, and after an easy ride on the course my nerves were greatly diminished – it is easy to build up a course in your head, especially watching videos of other athletes flipping over the bars and various descents, or struggling on the run-ups. I mean, I was still struggling on the run-ups, don’t get me wrong, but, even the UCI only lines didn’t seems tricky or scary to me. Despite that, my goal was to ride them at least twice a day through race day. I wanted to know the lines, know the braking patterns, and have zero hesitations. I visualized racing Katie on these sections. I practiced following down, passing and leading down, and soloing. The problem with wanting to ride the downs so much, is that it requires going back up.

After Friday’s UCI only preride I was given the chance to participate in a panel interview that would be airing on the live feed between races. Here, I admitted that the media saying I stood a chance at the title, or at the very least a podium, had me feeling pressure. It felt a little surreal. Entering this sport in the elite category eliminated any opportunity I had to ease my way in to an elite title by earning a junior, U23, or collegiate title on my way up. I jumped into the back and had to claw my way up, and to find myself finally up there provided me with some imposture syndrome. I took every opportunity I had to nearly make a joke out of winning, both to find a way to verbalize my goal, but also to make it seem like I knew it was a stretch. I was not willing to be serious about it because we all know how big a deal it was to end that 15-year streak. Not to mention beating out all of the other competition.

Foreshadowing, but also is Clara really that much taller than me?

Going head to head with Clara this year I have only beaten her twice, and often she only beats me by one singular place (even last year). I know that I am at least an equal rider to her, but I am not quite the racer that she is. Last year she won U23 Nationals and has had the taste of a title. She can perform under pressure and has a quiet mind (I actually have no idea what goes on in her head but she seems so damn composed at every moment). I knew that regardless of what place I was racing for, the real race would be against her. I saw the podium before it happened, but in a different order. A much different order.

I was nervous the day of the race, but not the type of nervous I normally feel before big events. I was sort of skipping over the day and thinking about Europe – I just wanted this to be over. There was a delay in the gridding and the start so by the time we were within 30 seconds waiting for the whistle my heart rate was 10-20 bpm lower than it normally would be. I went through my mental mantra: “This is happening. This will hurt. I will be strong, and work hard. I will not quit.”

The lights changed. Or whistle blew. Or start metric happened.

I noticed I had the lead nearly right off the line; I could see tires and wheels out of the corner of my eye. I keep charging, thinking about lifting my eyes and filling the void in front of me. At some point, I can’t really see anyone else, so I look under my elbow wondering if maybe there was a false start and I was the only one not stopping. Nope, they were still back there. “Oh my god. I am doing it! Stop thinking about how you are doing it or you will muff this up, ya dummy” – my inner dialogue. Around the turn and Beth Ann Orton comes up along side me, a good start for her too. We are in the thick of it now and I can tell I put in a big effort on the start because this false flat chunky uphill hurts. I try to keep my head in it. I dismount for the run-up too late it feels. I get passed by Compton and Courtenay and chopped by Sunny Gilbert right at the top. Sunny botches the turn at the bottom of the drop and we are forced to run. She isn’t going fast enough! We get gapped. I pass her at the top and charge to close the gap. I pass Courtenay almost by chance. I am neck-and-neck with Katie. I take a moment to compose myself and follow her. We drop back down to the bottom of the course and I am sitting easily on her wheel. I try to find a spot to pass but I know I need to make it clean. I see a hole in a turn and I put my body through it.

I did it.

I passed Katie Compton. At the National Championships. Up until this point I had a fairly quiet mind. Even now, I was calm and composed. I come through the start/finish and Kerry is at the corner yelling “You’re doin’ it, Beck!” I smiled. I think Clara was on my wheel at this point. I figured I was doing too much work on that long pavement section but I just wanted to get Katie out of the picture. I knew the gap was growing and I needed her gone. She was public enemy #1.

Up the run up again. Clara is stronger than me on the run-ups. It made me regret wanting to do the downs making me do so many ups on the days before. I take some time behind her, telling myself it is okay. Once again, sticking her wheel is easy. This is a big deal for me because usually I cannot follow wheels. Start/finish straight and I take the lead. I think this is where I lost the race. Why bother? Why now? Why can’t I take Caroline Mani’s advice to heart and stop pulling people around the course? Did I think I could ditch Clara? Man, reflecting on this now is both helpful and hurtful.

Alone.

Clara, stronger on the runup, fresh from sitting on my wheel, passes me.

Why did I make that effort?

My glasses fog as I work so hard to go so slow and I can’t see and being blind and cracked I botch the turn at the bottom of the drop. Clara gaps me.

That is when the race was lost.

The next few laps the gap was steady. But then I just let it open little by little as I bobbled.

And then, Clara Honsinger won the National Championships, dethroning Katie Compton, 15x US National champion. I was 2nd. Katie was 3rd.

Why did I make that effort? Why did I not throw my glasses? Would Clara still have won if we had stayed together longer? Could I have closed the gap? Would I have raced differently if I were chasing Katie for the win, not Clara? The questions are nagging, but unanswerable.

I lost the opportunity to achieve my goal. It was gone forever.

I am so happy for Clara. She is a fellow Kona athlete, so having two Konas on the Nationals podium in Washington was a huge thing. Plus, Clara is simply a kind human being and a very worthy competitor. This was not a one-off result. I don’t want to detract from her winning, but for my own sake I am taking to heart all of the comments from people that reached out after the race saying I was the one who made the initial pass. I made the cracks show and gaps open. I may have lost the race but I beat Katie. (Shit writing this down sounds really hurtful to Katie but I mean, if you’re gonna be such a shredder you’ve gotta take the heat, eh? Much eternal respect for Katie, but with great accolades come great bragging rights).

A Hella Sweet Kona Maxxis Shimano embrace haha

I have a few points I could go back and redo, but I am so grateful and lucky to have no excuses, especially mechanical ones. No dropped chains, or missed shifts on my Shimano GRX. No flats on the Maxxis tires. Incredible confidence shredding the Kona Super Jake. No broken boas. No missed pits with Spencer (and Doug at Nationals) looking out for me.

The 2nd place at Nationals was my biggest result to date, but also the most anti-climactic. That night, I mourned the passing of my dream. But moving forward, I am celebrating the dawning of a new era. One where I am a top-3 American woman. One where I get top 10’s in European World Cups. One where I can win US Nationals, or any other race. ONE WHERE I CAN HAVE GOOD STARTS. You can’t have only good races, but from here we aim to make the best ones big ones, and hopefully the big ones the best ones.

[aawordthings]

When people ask me what do I plan to study in the future or who I want to become, I don’t know how to answer. It’s not because I can’t think of anything. It’s because I can think of too much. There are a lot of things I want to be. An astronaut, a doctor, a violinist, a writer. I have never understood people who know what they want and are so determined to get it. How do you shrink your heart and let it settle on one thing? What if it’s too big to fit in your hands, comfortably? Or what if you change your mind, after plucking it from your chest? Won’t it be too late? I don’t understand. I don’t think I ever will. I once loved to paint. Watercolor was my favorite. I used to sit in my mother’s bedroom, where the biggest window in my entire house was and in the natural light, I’d become my paintbrush, moving as graceful as a ballerina across the 8x11 sheet of paper. I was only good at creating flowers—and that’s it, but I was sure I was going to be a famous artist someday. I thought that was going to be my life and I’d make it happen. I did not make it happen. I never have the time to sit in front of my stretcher. Most of my paint brushes have dried bristles, because I was too careless to wash them after abusing them. They sit closed off, in the lowest drawer of my dressing table that I barely glance at. At the time, I did not realize that passions can die so quickly. I know now. So how am I to settle on being one thing, for the rest of my life? I think most adults avoid that question because that’s what they’re expected to do. Be mature. Be responsible. Be someone. Grow up. I hate that phrase. Your limbs become bleak and decay once you’re dead. Your veins become white. Your blood becomes nearly black and then dries up. You become what you are made of. Dirt. So why does it matter, if I am seventeen or seventy for the world to make sense? it doesn’t. It doesn’t matter because regardless of how old you are, you will never escape what you are. Human. It’s only a matter of how much. Some are content with living in a cycle until their bodies give out. Sometimes that scares me. Resisting to conform. Questioning the unanswerable. I don’t think I fit in, truly. But perhaps that is the way it is best fit. Perhaps not knowing all the answers to the universe is what keeps the thumping of my heart erratic and lively at the moments I feel the most detached from my body. And I am grateful for being lost, because in these confined hours where it is just me, my notebook, and the moon watching, I know that even if I don't know where I am heading, I am heading somewhere and in the end, that is all that matters. To move towards infinity and nowhere at the same time. I cannot be calculated.

Not knowing is enough

[junker-town]

Why ‘Madden NFL 20’ is even better than last year’s version

After a period of stagnation, ‘Madden’ continues to improve in ways that make it worth your time.

Last year, I recommended the latest iteration of the Madden NFL franchise, calling it the first one in a long time that I could recommend as a complete $60 package. After spending time with Madden NFL 20, which releases for all major platforms on Aug. 2, I can again say that EA is getting pretty good at making tangible improvements that go beyond a simple roster update.

That said, Madden NFL 20 is not without its flaws. There’s a growing disconnect between fans of the more realistic, almost sanitized Madden of today, and fans who prefer the minigame-packed, looser-feeling Madden of yesteryear.

EA has tried to bridge that gap in recent games with the introduction of “arcade” style play vs. “simulation”, which aims to create a faster-paced game with more big plays. It’s a noticeable difference, and now EA has added development traits like Superstar X Factors and Zone Abilities, which elevate the highest-rated players beyond mere mortals.

From the new Face of the Franchise story mode to the graphic upgrades, I’ll run you through all you need to know about Madden NFL 20.

Gameplay

The biggest difference that will affect every mode is the sweeping changes made to Madden’s ratings. EA drew criticism in the past for big-name players being too easy to replace with lower-rated backups, and tackled that this year by creating a much bigger disparity in the ratings.

The result is that more players are rated in the 60s (out of 99), while many starters don’t even break 80. It can look alarming to longtime Madden players, especially fans of teams who aren’t particularly good, like me (hello, 49ers). Still, players in the mid-to-high 70s don’t feel worse than they did in previous games, though the AI does feel worse in that regard.

As far as the on-the-field action, I love it. With the ball in your hands, everything is smooth. Stick moves feel better than ever, and I’ve noticed many new unique animations in tackles and catches, along with more signature celebrations for star players like Patrick Mahomes (the cover athlete).

On the defensive side of the ball, the on-screen prompts for jumping the snap and rushing the passer have been tweaked. EA changed some of the terminology to make it clearer what types of pass-rush moves you’re using and are appropriate for the situation.

I play on “simulation,” which for some people is too slow, and I get that. Sometimes you just want to sling the ball around, and the “arcade” setting helps with that. More tackles get broken. More balls get intercepted. Stick moves play a huge factor. Throwing motions seem to be faster. Simulation is more methodical, and that leads to fewer bigger plays.

In either setting, I think this year’s game feels great to play. Breaking tackles has never felt better.

Superstar X Factor/Zone Abilities

Here is the big one. Players can now be defined as Superstar or Superstar X Factor. The latter is the highest level of development for a player that includes one game-changing X Factor trait, in addition to multiple lesser Zone Abilities. Players with Superstar development can still earn new Zone Abilities, but not X Factor abilities.

The X Factors require meeting specific criteria to activate, be it completing consecutive passes or defending two passes on one drive. There are many of them in the game, and they’re built into the other modes, including Face of the Franchise and the classic Franchise mode.

The lesser abilities are similar to traits that have been in the game previously, but there are quite a few new ones. Clutch is one example. Before, it was more of a nebulous trait that was harder to define. But now we know exactly what it does and how it’s activated: It kicks in halfway through the fourth quarter in close games and prevents players who are “in the zone” from being knocked out of the zone for the remainder of regulation.

Ben Roethlisberger has Pro Reads X Factor, which highlights the first open receiver. He also has five abilities that make sense if you’re familiar with his style of play. The same is true for several other well-known players. EA did a good breakdown of the many abilities and X Factors earlier.

So how does it affect the game?

I spent a good amount of time trying to determine exactly how the X Factors and abilities can impact a game.

In arcade mode, I noticed X Factor players doing better than the others, but how much of that was simply because they’re rated higher than the rest of the guys on the field?

To test this, I chose Adam Thielen, wide receiver for the Vikings, who comes with the X Factor and abilities listed in the image above. I am targeting Slot-O-Matic, which increases the receiver’s ability to make faster cuts and have better hands on short routes when lined up in the slot.

I then created a new player with the same ratings at Thielen, but without the Superstar X Factor development trait or any extra abilities. I dubbed my creation Tdam Ahielen.

I went into an arcade exhibition game, and ran the same three slot routes (slant, a shallow out with a double move, and a deep cross with a double move) multiple times with each player, and it did feel like Thielen’s cuts were sharper. I can’t say whether or not he caught the ball better, because both receivers caught the passes thrown their way. But his cuts were tighter, especially when reversing direction.

I did the same for Aaron Donald. It seemed — though it’s hard to know for sure — that Donald was beating his man with more regularity than my copycat player with matching stats on both modes.

The Run Pass Option

There are specific playbook additions, like the Philly Special, but there is also an emphasis on the run-pass option in Madden NFL 20. There are more ways than ever to trick a defense, with several new option plays and well-made tutorials explaining how they work and how to identify the defense’s read on the play.

A speedier gameday experience

When you get a game like Madden, the expectation is that you’ll play it off and on until next year’s version comes out. That means the little things that are interesting at first — the stadium presentation, new intros and setups for their “broadcasts,” celebrations, and the like — become repetitive and annoying.

I haven’t spent much time waiting around in Madden NFL 20, and games seem to be moving more quickly. It’s now easier to skip pregame, halftime, and postgame shenanigans.

The biggest difference is when you run the no-huddle offense. Instead of having to watch your players get back into formation, the screen quickly fades out then back in with your team lined up.

Game modes

QB1: Face of the Franchise

The big new mode is Face of the Franchise. It replaces the Longshot story mode from the previous two games. You begin by creating and naming your quarterback, who then joins one of 10 college football teams in the game that EA got the license to.

Then your coach tells you that the top quarterback recruit in the nation just joined the same school. Time jumps forward four years to the College Football Playoff semifinal. Your team is playing and that top recruit is injured. You’re the next man up.

You are joined by star wide receiver Isaiah Streets, whose brother passed away from cancer. He uses that as his motivation, and it’s a theme throughout the story mode.

Early in the story, you meet a little girl named Emily, with the same disease Streets’ brother had, and she asks you to throw four touchdowns in the national championship game. She also asks you what color mane you’d want on your unicorn — pink or purple. I went with pink, but apparently the right answer was neither.

You then play in the semifinal and, presuming you lead the team to a win, the national championship. Your coach gives you a limited playbook, which includes nothing under center (or perhaps that was a function of me picking LSU, I’m not sure).

You are given dialogue choices early on that are usually somewhere between confident and being grateful for the opportunity. My quarterback, named Butts Carlton (because I am a child), was fairly confident and for good reason: I led my team to a national championship and then proceeded to kick ass at the NFL Scouting Combine.

The NFL Combine is where it gets funny (and real)

Where the mode got entertaining is the combine interview process, which was almost too realistic. The first to interview me was someone with the Giants, who basically big-timed me. Then I met with a rep from the Dolphins, who asked to see my cell phone. I gave it to him, and then he berated me for giving my cell phone to a stranger. Fair enough.

Washington’s interviewer was intense. He asked me a hypothetical: if I were on a bus in Alaska driving high speed downhill, would I be in the front or back of the bus? I answered “front,” and he went off on a tirade, asking me if I checked the tire pressure and inspected the engine myself before I got on board. My character was, understandably, confused. The interviewer then implied that such a question is unanswerable, and my character didn’t know how to handle that, either.

I also acquired an agent, who came up to me at the combine and pretty much told me that he’s my agent now. It was entertaining for a bit, but his shtick, as far as I can tell, is that he’s not a very good agent.

The mode is more familiar after the draft

I was eventually drafted by the Miami Dolphins near the end of the first round.

On my way to the team facility, my character encountered an Uber driver who wanted to talk to me about how he played JUCO ball and how the Dolphins really need to fix their offense. I laughed — he was funnier than my agent — and my character shut the door on him when he started to get too enthusiastic about the conversation.

Once you are drafted, you are taken to what is essentially franchise mode, with some added depth. There are engagements to manage and relations to build, including more dialogue choices, texts from reporters and your head coach, and the ultimate goal of building a legacy. After your first year, you get one of four endings depending on how you performed throughout the mode. You can continue after that through the modified franchise mode.

So is Face of the Franchise good?

I found it to be entertaining enough, and much better than Longshot, which was full of cliches and offensive stereotypes (though there are still plenty of cliches in this mode). It’s a mostly fun playthrough with good performances from the voice-actors and effective cutscenes. You shouldn’t buy the game just for this mode, but it’s worth playing.

Ultimate Team

Cards on the table (pun not intended but kept), I’ve never been a fan of Ultimate Team, even though it’s a hugely popular mode.

If you’re unfamiliar, in Ultimate Team, you open card packs and build your roster out of a deck. The cards have limited uses and can be sold/scrapped for currency to buy more packs or increase the abilities of another card. You play football with that lineup, earning more points and currencies. As with all games with microtransaction-based elements, there are several currencies, all of which are used to buy card packs. You get some of them from completing challenges, selling cards, or paying outright for them.

I received a ton of card packs as a result of having a press copy and Origin Access Premier, so I opened 25+ packs (about six of which were 49ers packs). I came out with a team that looks pretty good, but if I didn’t have all those extra packs, I imagine it would look fairly dire. You can see my offense and defense lineups above and below.

The mode seems similar to past games, and it feels like EA is trying to get you to earn currency rather than simply purchase card packs. But of course, the option to purchase is still there, and the fact will always remain that those with deeper pockets can have an advantage in building a more complete team.

There are new “Ultimate Challenges” that replace “Solos,” and they can be played with friends to complete. More rewards are given out for milestones within challenges, unlike previous games where you got nothing if you didn’t complete a (sometimes long) challenge.

EA has also brought over player archetypes from the Franchise mode, allowing you to lightly modify the type of player they are, within the same position group. By changing a linebacker’s archetype from speed rusher to run stopper, the rating adjusts accordingly. There’s enough here to keep the mode fresh.

Franchise

Not much has changed with Franchise.

As you progress through a season, you have all the usual options: building your roster, doing a fantasy draft, playing as an owner and setting concessions prices, importing draft classes, relocating your team, and drafting rookies. With the new development traits and X Factors that you can pick and customize as you acquire and level up players, you have a small added layer of management that helps keep it fresh.

The week-to-week progression is still very much that Franchise mode, and there isn’t a lot else to say about it. I have enjoyed recent Franchise modes, and I enjoy this one.

Online play and exhibition

When you first load up Madden NFL 20, you’re greeted with the 2019 Pro Bowl, which is to help showcase many of the Superstar X Factor traits. It’s a good introduction, and I recommend playing through it rather than quitting out, as some tend to do when they don’t feel like playing the guided tutorial.

There is also Skills Trainer, with effective tutorials of the game’s various systems for both sides of the ball and special teams. It comes with commentary from Jonathan Coachman, and it does a decent job of explaining the many, many mechanics of Madden.

Online play is a major part of Madden and the experience remains relatively unchanged. I played a few online matches against folks who had access to the game pre-release, and I had no connection issues — though as always, your mileage may vary. Last year’s game had some lag problems at launch, and only time will tell if the servers take a beating on launch day again.

Presentation

The presentation of the game is pretty familiar. It’s the same tile-based menus, a couple dozen well-made player likenesses, beautiful renderings of stadiums, a solid soundtrack, official touches from the NFL Network, and good commentary provided by Charles David and Brandon Gaudin.

I am not a lover of commentary, because I play so much that it wears thin, but EA has at least put in the effort. The people who splice audio together for video game commentary are wizards, and it’s never sounded more natural. That said, you’ll hear repeated anecdotes and more cliches than during actual football broadcast.

User interface and graphics

While I think football games lag behind other sports — probably due to larger roster sizes — when it comes to the sharpness of player models, Madden continues to improve its look every year. The animations are more fluid, and the menus are sharp with new font treatments that feel inspired by NFL Films. The PC version, which is the one I played, looks amazing in-game, running at 4K.

What a handsome pass.

There are the usual caveats. Sometimes the menus can be a bit slow to navigate. The newest presentation of the depth chart is particularly awful, though there is a button for automatically optimizing it. Thankfully, the classic way of organizing the depth chart is also available — it’s just not the default.

The menus in general are concise, helpful, and mostly unchanged from last year, save for the colors and fonts. The on-screen tips and prompts when you’re playing — whether it be an explanation of the run-pass option or notifying you of your timing when trying to jump the snap — are all effective.

Player likenesses

It would be cost-prohibitive for EA to model over 1,000 individual players for the game, but it’s jarring when a famous player doesn’t look like himself. It can also be a bummer when several players on the same team have the same player model. Many players choose not to get scanned, but it’s disappointing that EA hasn’t added enough customization options to at least approximate on a more consistent basis.

I’ve picked 3-4 players from each team, and you can see their likenesses in the gallery below. Some are accurate. Some are default models. Some look like somebody tried and gave up.

Performance

For this review, I used the PC version of Madden NFL 20, running on ultra settings, at 4K with HDR (screenshots from this article do not contain the HDR effect). In my experience, it ran great. I’m running a pretty beefy rig that handled the game at a constant 60fps with no noticeable drops, with the lone exception being when the game shifts to certain broadcast-oriented angles, such as the helicopter view of the stadium. For some reason, the frame rate dips bad at that part, same as it did with Madden NFL 19.

Overall, it runs well, load times are speedy off of my SSD, and I experienced no crashes in my time with the game.

I miss when Madden crammed in as much extra nonsense as possible (please come back to us, Rushing Attack). The lack of those fun minigames has made every Madden worse off since EA took them out.

But I do find that the arcade setting, along with the extra abilities and X Factors, combine for a looser experience that fans of the early-aughts releases will appreciate.

Every year we talk about what’s changed and what hasn’t, but lost is the fact that Madden is a complex game. EA put in work to make so many moving parts — everything you’d need to make a realistic football game — feel unique and useful to the player.

There are a lot of mechanics working underneath the surface to make each position feel different to play, and it’s my opinion that those continue to evolve in ways that move the franchise forward.

In true Madden spirit, I’ll once again assign the game an overall rating and give it a slight bump from Madden NFL 19.

Madden NFL 20 Rating: 96 OVR

[annamariaizland]

Cuz why not?

100 BRAVE QUESTIONS 1.What’s the toughest decision you made today? Deciding to get out of bed 2.What’s the toughest decision you made this year? Deciding to continue to go to college 3.What’s the toughest decision you ever made? Deciding not to die 4.What have you forgotten? Nothing 5.What do you want to be when you grow up? Happy 6.What’s it like being you right now? A fucking disaster 7.What makes you nostalgic? The beach 8.If you had two hours left on earth what would you do? Spend it with my grandma and my best friends 9.What’s the most beautiful word in the world? pluviophile 10.Who makes you laugh more than anyone? Kayla 11.What did your father teach you? Hard work pays off 12.What did your mother teach you? That sometimes you can't remain quiet and you have to let the world hear your roar 13.What’s the best gift you’ve ever given? Backstage passes to Warped Tour 14..Best gift you ever received? A trip to the beach 15.How many times a day do you look in the mirror? Once? 16.What do you bring most to a friendship? I'm a good ass listener 17.If 100 people in your age group were selected randomly, how many do you think they’d find leading a happier life than you? All of them 18.What is or was your best subject in school? Psychology 19What activity do you do that makes you feel most like yourself? Listening to the police scanner 20.What makes you feel supported? Therapy and friends 21. Whom do you secretly admire? Anyone who has been at the end of their whits and still continued to live 22.What time of the day do you feel the most energetic and what do you usually do in those moments? The night and I write or do homework 23.What’s something you never leave home without? The dollar bill I as on me when Carl was killed. I'm impulsive and can drop 200 bucks in an hour but I can't spend this dollar 24.What’s a recurring dream you have? I don't remember my dreams 25.What makes you feel safe? The police scanner and my therapists office 26.What’s the best thing that ever happened to you? Getting diagnosed and meeting certain people 27.What do you want people to say about you once you’re gone? That she fought till the very end 28.What’s the coolest thing about science? That there is a explanation behind most of it and explanations are something I crave 29.What’s the best money you ever spent? My tattoos and piercings 30.What’s a bad habit you have? Smoking 31.What are you grateful for? My therapist, my friends and my family 32.Whom are you envious of? I don't know 33.What’s an image you’ll never forget? Finding my mom unconscious 34.Describe a near-death experience. I drowned as a kid, almost got hit my a semi head on, one winter almost had a telephone pole crush my car, almost had a truck going 70 mph hit me while I was at a compete stop 35.If you had a clone, what would you have the clone do? Go home for me at night so I could run wild 36.What’s your idea of Heaven? Happiness. 37.What’s your idea Hell? My life 38.When did you know? When did I know what? 39.What can you do better? Communicating 40.When are you most yourself? At the beach 41.What superpower would you most like to have? The ability to change probability 42.If you were granted three wishes, what would you do with the second wish? Wish for a beach house 43.What is your actual superpower? Pretending to be okay 44.If you won 100 million dollars, what would you buy first? I would pay off student loans 45.What’s the best sound in the world? The sound of the waves hitting the shore 46.What’s perfect about your life? Nothing is ever perfect 47.What song do you sing only when you’re alone and what memory does it bring back? I don't have one 48.Describe a moment you were so embarrassed you wanted to disappear. Hahaha that's all the time 49.How many times a day do you think about money? Too many 50.Who has been the biggest influence on you in your relationship to money? My therapist 51.What’s one thing you’re certain of? That everyday is not guaranteed 52.Describe one of your colossal failures. 53.What makes you cringe? My voice 54.What does your inner voice tell you? Bad things 55.What crime have you considered committing? If I tell you it's premeditated if I ever do it sooo 56.What’s great about your mom? She cares too much 57.What’s great about your dad? He also cares too much 59.Which day would you gladly re-live? The first day I was introduced to Anna Maria Island 60.What are you awesome at? Writing 61.What do you want people you meet for the first time to think about you? That I'm kind 62.When were you most afraid? Failure 63.What are you terrible at but love to do anyway? Singing 64.What weapon would you carry during the Zombie Apocalypse? Fire shooter 65.Which of your five senses would you keep if you could only keep one? Sight 66.What’s something you love to make? Poetry 67.What do you cook better than anyone? I can't even boil water so what is this cooling thing 68.What do you wish you’d invented? Something that has brought in a lot of money 69.What would you like to invent? A will to live 70.Out of 100 random people, where would you rank yourself in terms of your intelligence? I was top 20 in my high school class so 71.Where do you want to be right now? Anna Maria Island 72.If you could be someone else for a day who would it be and why? No one, because the grass isn't always greener on the other side 73.What makes you feel powerful? Getting up everyday 74.What’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said? There's a lot 75.What’s the meanest thing someone has ever said to you? ...... 76.What three words would you have on your grave stone? She's finally free 77.What’s your first thought when you wake up? When can I go back to bed 78.What’s one thing you wake up to in the middle of the night worrying about? Everything 79.If you could tell someone something anonymously, what would it be? If I tell you it's no longer anonymous 80.Whom would you like to forgive and forget? Evan Dorsey 81.If you could get rid of one of your responsibilities today, what would it be? Work 82.What type of person angers you the most? Everyone angers me 😂 83.What is your greatest strength? How I keep fighting 84.What is your worst weakness? I won't open up 85.How do you show your love for others? By being there for them and listening 86.Why are you here in this room right now? It's my bed room and I want to be alone 87.When is a time you forgave someone or were forgiven for something? I don't know 88.What’s the biggest mistake you ever made? ...... again there's a lot 89.What are you hiding? My mental illness from family 90.What’s your unanswerable question–the question you seem to always be asking yourself? Why? 91.What are you ashamed of? A lot 92.What is stopping you? Fear 93.What’s a secret you have? If I tell you is it a secret anymore? 94.How do you secretly manipulate people to get your way? My personality 95.When was the last time you apologized? Tonight 96.What is the biggest lie you tell yourself? That I'm okay 97.What’s the moment you left childhood behind? The morning my mom had her first seizure 98.What’s missing from your life? Love 99.Do you believe in a higher power? Yes 100.What are you ready to let go of? Pain What are you not saying right now? Everything.