#i MIGHT be writing grady for the first time

[junuve]

i love Grady Aperture Desk Job. that is all.

[the-heart-of-leo]

Nick's so far under the bus that they might as well change the oil while they're under there.

Okay, because I'm a bit of a masochist and I have adblockers...

I'm going to count how many times James throws Nick under the bus:

@2:40 – 'This fell upon Nick as well, as a non-binary person on the ace spectrum, they wanted to include asexuality and non-binary representation to our videos. But because Nick's experience is not universal – There is no universal experience – people felt that we were delegitimizing their own experiences because we focused on Nick's.' (The reason we were acephobic was because we (meaning Nick) didn't think other ace people had problems and when it was pointed out to us by The Ace Couple that ace people did, in fact, face discrimination and conversion therapy, we (meaning James) accused them of homophobia and sicced their followers on them.)

@6:38 – 'The work Nick and I were doing on the channel...' (Because Nick was here too! Not just me!)

@10:46 – 'I was much more interested in the production of the videos than the writing of them, at this point. So after three or four videos, I brought Nick on as a main writer for the channel. The idea is that they would write the vast majority of the scripts. I would film, voice, and edit the videos and we'd split the money that came in.'(Nick was the main writer for the channel! In case you forgot...)

@14:40 – 'And then my mom died... and I became completely useless. I couldn't think straight, at all, so Nick had to completely take over writing duties.'(DID I MENTION NICK WAS THE MAIN WRITER. ALSO MY MOM DIED; FEEL SORRY FOR ME)

@19:44 – 'When Nick got back, he believed the script needed a first page rework. This was also when he told me he was going to be moving back to Ontario permanently soon as he wanted to live closer to family and live in a bigger city with more opportunities. This was a punch to the gut for me. We'd been living together since 2015 and had become quite dependent on each other. I felt like there was no way I could make this movie without him.'(We couldn't make the movie we promised because SOMEONE DECIDED TO MOVE and since I'm co-dependent on him, I moved with him and screwed up everything. Oopsie.)

@26:32 – 'But by accepting as many sponsors as we did, which became very important when Nick and I started living apart and suddenly had two rents to pay, we ended up needing to produce even more videos. Which, along with the work on Telos and making sure everything was okay with my dad while living thousands of kilometers away meant I had even less time for writing – putting more stress on Nick and leading to even more copy and pasting from me.' (See what you did, Nick?! We have to pay TWO rents now and we need to make even MORE videos. I'm not creepily co-dependent on my asexual ex-roommate at all!)

@32:50 – 'I know what misinformation had made its way into our past videos. That was not something we intended; in some cases it was information I was told by people I considered experts. In other cases it was information that we had researched. In other cases it was things that Nick had learned in university.'(Nick told me some of this stuff! ((which is fair because NICK ADMITTED HE DOESN'T DO RESEARCH)) In other cases it was because I assumed I knew what happened because I'm the smartest person I know so of course Lesbians had it easier! I just forgot that Radcliffe Hall's books were banned and destroyed because of that head injury I talked about earlier.)

And here's an honorable mention where the smug “I'm smarter than you” BS comes to visit:

'To those who say I plagiarized the plot from the novel Final Girl Support Group by Grady Hendrix – Read the book. It's nothing like the plot of the movie. And 'The Final Girl' is a trope in horror movies so if using the Final Girl trope is plagiarism then basically everyone who's made a slasher movie since Texas Chainsaw Massacre owes the Toby Hooper estate some money.'

So, much like how James doesn't understand why people aren't upset at him because of citation issues, he doesn't understand that it's not the fact that he's using the 'Final Girl' trope... it's the fact that he stated the book as a favorite of his and then... suddenly he's writing a movie about the aftermath of the Final Girl. And given the plagiarism, it can not be taken in good faith.

First off, if you just google 'First Final Girl', it just says Texas Chainsaw Massacre is one of the earliest examples. Another possibility for the 'First Final Girl' was actually Black Christmas which was released the same day in Canada so it is literally tied.

Secondly; the final girl trope is not required for slasher movies. One of the first 'proto-slasher' movies was actually Psycho so there were a few good decades between that and Texas Chainsaw Massacre. (I could try and make a case that Lila Crane should count as a Final Girl; maybe even Mrs. Bates/Norman as a subversion... but I'm not that invested or interested.)

So... James was true to form, he just wanted to be a smug asshat and try and seem smart over something easily googled.

[the---hermit]

15|05|2024

It's been a very stressful week so far and today started so bad, but then the day progressively went better and now I am feeling quite relaxed. I couldn't have guessed it this morning, since I ws feeling on the verge of a panic attack. But I took my meds and tried my best to go through the day and it went well. I listened to Monstrous Agonies which provided a lot of comfort as usual and I actually finished it. Class was quite lightheard, for the first time in my life I wasn't stressed about group work, we read our sources and discussed them together in a very chill way that actually felt pleasent. I have not made friends in this class and we don't have many lectures left but never say never for what might happen before the end. After class my friend came to pick me up to drive me home to then play some board games together, she got me focaccia because she thought I might be hungry after my lecture which was the sweetest thing. I am very emotional lately and all the kind gestures of today filled my heart. And I am proud of myself because I am slowly getting more comfortable with talking to people, small steps but I am taking them and it's going well.

📖: The Southern Book Club's Guide To Slaying Vampires by Grady Hendrix (I started this book about two weeks ago and I read 300+ pages even tho I had pretty busy days, the writing flows so well and a fast paced horror was exectly what I needed right now)

[moldingtundra]

thought I’d talk about my interpretation of unpleasant because yes (also I might make an ask blog about it)

Ok so lord timeee!! Content warning for some really sensitive topics (genocide, murder, prostitution, implied abuse, etc.) so watch out.

so unpleasant gradient (aka gradie) was born because his mother was a prostitute (so was his dad but much less so) and his fathers parents found out so they made him marry her, obviously that does shit and eventually when he turned 7 his father left and he was left along and u can kindddaaa imagine what happeneds when ur left with this type of mom whis also an alcoholic and smoker…yeahhh, so he gets two sibs (one if them is older the other is younger, same mom) pleasant gradient (older, named penny) and monotomous graident (younger, named mono) who took care of him when his mother escaped without him at 11 years old including a third sibling who used to take care of him when he was a toddler but ran away from home due to his mom (they were mutated gradient). (gradie has a shit ton, you can imagine why lmao) but he only sees it once and never again, so the three brothers have to survive the famine and genocide going around (it started before gradie was even born) but obviously u can imagine what happens in this typa scenerio (gradie had to almost say bye bye to half of his body bc of a bomb at 12 and watch penny die and mono run away then escape at 15 (the scars dwindled over time dw but it’s still there )) and then there is an opurtunity to escape the country with a bus, but theres only one bus ticket, so a random woman gives it to gradie and sends him off bc she knows he has the most potential and promises to find him (its been 45 years he still hasnt seen them) here’s art of what he looked like back then:

so after he escaped he rebuild his life in the land equivalent of AMERICUH and he attends this high school and he falls in love with builderman but decides not to confess and they both decide to graduate together and try getting it big, builderman did it by building the robloxia community and gradie byt writing his experiences with genocide and hiking high feets no one reached, like he won some guinness world record and some new york times bestseller thing- my guy was packed!!!…..until he got hit by a truck and couldnt do anything anymore (sad 💔) ON TOP OF THAT builderman married jane doe and had thier kid (infected) and graide would by to babysit infected since he was a wee little baby.

so kasper got infected at his 12th birthday. But the infected turns him into a vicious furry or whatever (werewolf if you want) and the first time that happened, he fucking ate his parents and gradie literally just came by to give them lasagna and infecteds present, so now his parents are dead, and graide decides to adopt infected (who hates it lol) and they just raise infected while tryna deal with his furry issue (his furry issue caused him to eat his own cat and some residents) and graide is just like tryna fucking hold himself together bc if the kid u had to babysit thats from ur one sided gay lover who married a fugly woman decides to kill yo one sided gay lover and u had to adopt him I wouldve eaten my organs)

and that’s basically it! Expect an ask blog for him soon this week or before I die lol

toodaloo!

[ladyswillmart]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the love ❤️

Hey wow, thanks for the message! I actually had to think about this one quite a bit. I'm not always the biggest fan of my own work, but in recent years I have published a few fics that I ended up liking. These... might be in some particular order? Eh, I dunno! Anyway, here goes:

5.) "It's Up To You" (Portal). The one where Doug Rattmann is trying to repair Grady. This is the last Portal fic I did and probably ever will do (though, never say never, right?). I'm not sure why I envisioned Doug as a fan of Ricky Nelson but it kinda works. Like the rest of my Portal stories, I put a lot of heart into this one, but in the end it felt like a bit of a waste. Oh well, I still like how it turned out.

4.) "Fish is Also a Four-Letter Word" (Gensou Suikoden II). It's sort of a screwball comedy where Jillia kind of asks Klaus to use his strategist super-powers to kill her brother. This was one of those magic stories where it all just brilliantly came together in a matter of days, footnotes and all. Rarer still, it's a story I can re-read and go "oh, that was cute", without cringing!

3.) "Malus" (Soul Blazer). The tiny fic in the tiny fandom that could! The first story I've ever done that was narrated by a goat. It's such a sweet and gentle tale, and I still think this setting is really interesting. There are not a lot of fics for this old SNES game, but I guess it is kind of a niche title. I got about halfway through a follow-up (narrated by a dormouse) so maybe I'll finish that one some time too...

2.) "A Difficult Business" (FF14). Originally a shitpost on Tumblr, which should tell you everything you need to know, if you don't want to actually read the fic summary. It's the one where Y'shtola bribes Nero Scaeva to deep fry Nidhogg's eyeballs in the fry vat at the Husting Strip Galleria food court's Ol’ Mistbeard Fish ‘n Chips.

1.) "Mog House" (FF14). In here, there is only Mog. And House. Huh, this one also involves Nero in some manner of bribery (only this time he's the one doing the bribing).

Ironically (?), my actual #1 pick isn't something that I can link to because it hasn't been published anywhere yet! It's called "Ancient History" and it's a 16-chapter work of Ultima VII (Serpent Isle) fanfic that's going up on my Neocities. For whatever reason, I made the boneheaded decision that it would be the FIRST thing to go up on my website, along with a complete (read: way too verbose) timeline and character profiles and little pictures, the works! All of this is still under construction, HOWEVER the bulk of the actual writing/markup of it is DONE and has been for some time. It's really just down to the getting the formatting just right, plus some light revision and last-minute edits.

Oh yeah! I still need to write the epilogue. Hah!

Unfortunately, it looks like Dawntrail got in the way as it's currently taking up my "writing" time slot. 😅 However, I'm also making my way to the end of all that so I expect I can get back into finishing my website pretty soon as well.

It's something I don't really expect people to be interested in so I'm not putting this story on AO3 or anything like that. I'm really proud of the work I put into the website and the story and the little AU world I crafted around it, but in the end, it's something I did just for me. 😛

[clumsiestgiantess]

Day 7: Serenade

So ummm the original draft for this went with the prompt, but after a few tweaks it has nothing to do with it. Have the writing anyways; I know some people wanted a continuation of this one.

I nearly had a heart attack when I woke up the following day.  Everything had been such a blur once the giant figured out how to communicate with me.  It slipped my mind that I was staying in Grady’s house.  Come to think of it, I don’t remember falling asleep.  The giant wasn’t in his room when I woke up, so I cautiously wandered out from beneath his desk where my makeshift bed had been constructed.  The blanket he’d given me made up most of it, and a towel served as my mattress.  My leg had healed up almost perfectly fine.  I can put my full weight on it now.  I couldn’t — and didn’t — want to imagine what might’ve happened to me had Grady been like all the horror stories I’d heard about giants before.  Not only would my leg be swollen beyond the ability to walk, I might’ve been locked away in a pet crate.  I’d heard of it happening to unlucky others, and feared it might happen to me.

Of course, no such thing occurred over the day I’d spent with Grady.  He’s been surprisingly hospitable, but I suppose that’s out of pity for me.  We’d gone to my camp to try to help everyone, but it was already too late.  The snow had piled up to my shoulders, burying almost everyone alive.  There were only two people left by the time we got there.  One had died on the way to Grady’s house, and the other had passed away as we tried to warm them up.  I’d been inconsolable the rest of the day, and fell asleep here.  I guess he’d put me in this bed after I’d passed out.

The bedroom door creaked open, and I cowered beneath the desk.  Slowly, I edged to the front of it and peeked up at the giant that had entered.  My heart calmed once I realized it was only Grady.  He’d come out of the bathroom the next room over, still slightly wet with only a pair of boxers on.  I stared at his bare torso, face rapidly flushing red.  He must still think I’m asleep.  Before I could hide again, he turned to his desk and spotted me.  “Ho!  Er’uoy ekawa!  Dloh no, tel em tsuj teg desserd.”  He acknowledged me, but I had no idea what he said.  Our languages are similar written down, but their pronunciations are too different for me to try and piece together what he told me.  I turned around and waited for him to get fully dressed before stepping out from my spot beneath the desk.  

This is the first time I’ve been properly face-to-face with a giant.  The days before, I’d been busy staying out of his way, trying to save everyone in camp, and figure out the giants’ language.  I cautiously stepped up to Grady; my head only came up to his shins.  He went over to his desk and took the clipboard with a fresh piece of paper as well as a pencil and some lead for me.  It’s still frightening, seeing him move around the massive space.  Even when he kneels down, Grady is still twice as tall as I am.  ‘Are you feeling any better today?’ Grady asked through the paper.  ‘My leg’s feeling a lot better.  I can walk on it now!’  He smiled, ‘That’s good, now I won’t have to carry you everywhere.’

Yesterday, while my leg was still swollen, Grady had to carry me wherever I wanted to go.  It was scary having to trust him so quickly, but I didn’t have much of a choice.  I clung tightly to his shirt while he held me in his arms.  It was an awkward situation, to be sure.  I was too big to be held in one hand, and too small to be carried on his shoulders.  He’d held me tucked beneath his jacket, blocking the freezing winds from reaching me while we trekked out to my camp.  Grady’s frightening size became less menacing once I remembered how kindly he’d treated me, and how safe I felt nestled close to him.  It’s slightly embarrassing thinking about it now.  

‘Did you want me to get you some breakfast?’ Grady asked me, taking me out of my memories from yesterday.  I nodded and he stood again, causing me to stumble backwards in shock.  Giving me a pitying look, he slipped out the door and closed it behind him.

A while later, he returned with enough food to feed a small group of people like me.  “Ereh uoy og,” Grady announced, “Evah emos tsafkaerb, neht ll’ew teg nwod ot ssenisub.”  His voice sounded a bit more serious than before, but again I couldn’t understand what he said.  I nervously ate my meal as Grady milled about his room, trying not to stare.  I understood why.  My height was dwarfed by all the giant-sized objects around me.  It’s an uncanny sight for me, but I’ve never thought about it from a giant’s perspective.  I must be about the size of a baby giant, if that.  Obviously, he doesn’t see me as that young of a person, but maybe that’s why he’s decided to take pity on me.

Once I finally finished my meal, he came back to my side, pencil in hand.  Grady brought the tip up to the paper numerous times, but he kept pulling back each time.  Eventually, he wrote ‘What are you going to do now?  The others you lived with..’  He stopped writing hesitantly, but I could tell what he meant to say.  I don’t have a camp to go back to anymore.

There’s a bigger camp across the giants’ subdivision — the one I tried to get to before the snowstorm hit.  I guess I could try going there.  However, there is another option.  A place that comes with heating, relative safety, and more food than I can eat.  The only drawback is my roommate.  I’m not sure Grady is even a drawback at this point, though.  I fiddled with the lead in my hand, staring at the paper in front of me.  What would Grady think of me if I invited myself to live in his house?  I can’t just stroll in and start making a home for myself beneath his desk.  

‘Do you have anywhere else to go?’ Grady wrote while I thought through what to do.  ‘There’s a camp at the other end of your subdivision’ I replied in a slow scrawl.  Carefully, Grady bent down all the way to the floor to look me in the eyes.  I hesitantly returned his gaze.  One of his palms drifted towards me and I froze as he took my restless hands in his.  They both fit effortlessly in Grady’s single palm.  “Uoy t’nod tnaw ot og ot rehtona pmac, od uoy?”  He asked me something quietly, but even if he’d spoken in my own language, I wouldn’t have understood him.  I was too mesmerized by the stunning hazel of his eyes.  They were so large I could see all the individual streaks of color that made up his irises.  

Before I knew it, his hand slipped away from mine.  Pencil in hand, Grady wrote ‘Would you rather stay with me here?  I could clean up the space beneath my desk and close it off so no one could look in.  It doesn’t have to be permanent, just until the weather gets nicer.’  

Simultaneous excitement and nervousness shot through my veins as I read his message.  With a shaking hand, I wrote ‘Are you sure you want me to stay?’  He nodded, ‘As long as you stay hidden, I don’t mind.’  I pointed to the words ‘stay hidden’ and drew a question mark beneath them.  His explanation quickly appeared next to it.  ‘If my parents find out that I’m taking care of you…’  Grady stopped writing, then looked back up at me.  He had a concerned look on his face, but I motioned for him to keep writing regardless.  

‘You know a lot of my kind don’t see you guys as actual people.  So if my parents catch you.. they’ll throw you back outside.  They won’t try to understand you like I do.’  I shuddered just thinking of it.  Adult giants seven — maybe ten — times my height, dragging me back outside into the freezing snow piled up to my shoulders.  They probably wouldn’t let Grady outside to reclaim me anytime soon, leaving me to suffer the freezing weather alone.  It would likely be too late for me by the time Grady managed to sneak back out to get me.  Even if it wasn’t, how long would it be before I was caught again?

“Yeh, I t’now tel gnihtyna neppah ot uoy, thgirla?”  His voice shook me from horrible visions of frozen wastelands and brought me back to the warmth of his house.  Hopefully it can be my house too.  Slowly I stepped over the paper and stood right in front of him.  “If you really do want me to stay, I’d-  I’d be so grateful..”  I stopped once I saw Grady’s eyes glaze over confusedly.  If only we could just speak with each other.  It’s already getting annoying having to write down everything I want to say.  I begrudgingly returned to the paper.  ‘I’d be so grateful if you let me stay here.  I don’t know how I could repay you for everything, but if you’re inviting me to stay, it would be stupid of me to give all of this up.’

A smile slowly grew on his face as he read what I’d written.  ‘Alright, then let’s get you settled in!’  Grady moved to get up, but I held out my hands to stop him.  “Wait!  I- I have one more question!”  He froze, looking down at me with another confused expression.  “Tahw si ti?”  I sighed, returning to the paper again.  I wanted to ask him why he was helping me — why he offered to let me stay despite knowing I had somewhere else he could drop me off.  I can understand why he’d been so kind until now.  First I was nearly dead, then I found I couldn’t walk, then my entire camp died, then I became a sad sobbing mess for twelve hours.  I imagine a lot of people would take pity on someone who had to go through all that, giant or otherwise.  However, I’m basically free to go now.  My leg’s healed up and I have my original goal still left uncompleted, so why did he offer to let me stay?

All of that spiraled around in my head as I sat staring at a blank portion of the paper, piece of lead in hand.  “Thgirla.  Ll’i tes pu emos ffuts htaeneb ym ksed rof uoy elihw uoy kniht tuoba tahw uoy tnaw ot yas, ko?”  He asked me a question — whether something was ‘ok’ or not — that much I could tell.  I watched as Grady began clearing out the space beneath his desk further, allowing me more room to stay hidden.  Just as I turned back to the paper, he yanked the large piece of furniture slightly away from the wall with a loud scraping noise, making me flinch.  “Yrros,” he said absentmindedly, continuing to drag it around until it was even again.  A spark of fear flitted through my chest watching him do that.  He’s strong enough to quite literally tear me into pieces if he wanted.  Not that he would.  He wouldn’t.  He won’t.

After watching him bang his head on the underside of the desk for the fifth time while setting things up, I gave up trying to write down what I wanted and instead went to help him with my living arrangements.  With some gestures and a few written explanations, I found that he’d pulled back the desk because the backs of the drawers were open behind it.  He wanted to build a small ladder for me to have a more private room in the lower drawer.  I had to congratulate him on that idea, because I honestly thought it was really cool having a two story house again.  

While he got to work making a ladder, I got to work putting up some makeshift walls.  Grady had brought me a bunch of flattened cardboard boxes to use as walls, and to make it less suspicious, Grady dragged over his laundry basket and pile of hoodies, throwing them around in a seemingly messy way that hid the cardboard perfectly.  We stopped for lunch, and I had to spend the second half of the day alone.  Grady and his family had somewhere to be that afternoon.  I sat staring at that paper for a while.  

I want to ask him; I just don’t know how.  How do you ask someone if every good thing they’ve done for you is out of pity?  You don’t.  

I’d find another time for that, or maybe he’d tell me on his own.  I busied myself with decorating my new home, but soon more deeper thoughts emerged.  Is this my new home permanently?  I know I want to stay here for the foreseeable future — through the winter at least.  But what happens after that?   I can’t live my whole life with a giant, can I?  Can I?  Again I tucked the thought away.  I don’t need to worry about leaving for a few months, until then I should just be thankful I have somewhere to stay that has heating.

Just as I was figuring out a lighting system for the surprisingly dark drawer, the door to Grady’s room clicked open.  Moments later, there was a knock on the front of the shelf.  “Yreviled!  Eht s’doof ereh!  Enoyna emoh?”  Grady’s voice held a certain lightheartedness that held my fears at bay for I time.  Plastering on a smile, I slid out of the drawer and stepped out from beneath the desk.  A large plate of food was piled in Grady’s hands.  It was more than what I could eat in the entire day.  “You.. didn’t have to get me so much!” I told him, astonished.  He happily handed the plate off to me and left the moment I went to get the lead and paper.  “Oh…”  I guess he just came back to make sure I was fed.

— pov swap —

Why was today of all days my parents’ anniversary?  The whole family, even my cousins that lived nearby, gathered to eat out at some expensive restaurant together.  I tried to seem entertained and enthusiastic about everything, but it was hard knowing who waited for me back home.  I’d left the little Survivor alone locked up in my room.  Hopefully she can busy herself with making a home beneath my dresser.  Hopefully she still wants to stay — not that I’d stop her if she wanted to leave.  That’s her choice to make, not mine.

Briefly, I managed to slip into my room for a moment to hand off some food from the restaurant, but my aunt and younger cousins had followed us home to catch up with everyone, so I made my visit as brief as possible.  I do not want one of my cousins coming to look for me while I’m talking with Hannah.  They would either rush to tell my parents, or rush to mess with her.  Both options were things I dreaded, and I’m sure Hannah would agree with me.  Finally, after readying myself for bed just to convince my family to leave me alone, I managed to return to her later that night.  It was a frustrating day to be sure, but the sight of the Survivor sitting up to welcome me back instantly put a smile on my face.

“Hey,” I addressed Hannah, kneeling down to be more level with her.  “I- I’m sorry about today.  I know it probably wasn’t fun for you sitting here alone.”  I stopped speaking when I saw the confusion in her eyes.  Right.  She doesn’t understand me.  I picked up the pencil and paper we’d been using to communicate and wrote: ‘I know I haven’t really been around today, and I’m sorry.  I know you’re probably worried about all this.  Are you alright?’  Hannah’s eyes drifted across my handwriting for a moment before balling up against her eyes.  She took a step away from me, head turned, but when she glanced back up at me, her face was slightly wet and her eyes glistened.  

That’s a no, then.  She didn’t look scared, but she certainly didn’t look alright, either.  “It’s alright, I.. It’s ok.  I promise this’ll be a rare thing.  I’m not gonna leave you locked up in here every day.  I don’t want to.”  Hannah can’t even understand it, yet when I offered her my arms, she sidled into them.  She feels so strange in an indescribable way.  It felt just like this yesterday, when I brought her through the snow to the place where the rest of her kind were hiding.  They’d all died in one way or another, and I felt awful for her.  Thankfully, Hannah does have somewhere else to go if she ends up changing her mind and leaving, but would it be a similar place to the awful living situation I’d seen in the snow?

After only a few minutes, her sniffles stopped and she slid out of my lap to write something.  ‘I didn’t mean to get so emotional,” she wrote hesitantly, ‘I don’t mind that you’re gone for a while, I just-’  Hannah stopped writing and stared at the words she’d written for a long time.  “If you can’t put it into words, that’s fine,” I told her before remembering to write it down.  I had to carefully bend over her to do so because she was still partially in my lap.  ‘You don’t have to tell me now.  Draft something up in your own writing then I’ll translate it myself, if that makes it any easier for you.  I’m going to try to figure out how to understand you verbally, but until then we’ll have to use this.  Is that ok?’  The Survivor read my writing, then answered with a yes and: ‘I’ll try to learn some of your language, too.  That’s good advice to try drafting something up instead of trying to write it all down at once.  As you can imagine, there’s a lot more I want to talk to you about.’

I sat in thought, staring down at Hannah as she glanced back up at me.  ‘Like what?’  She shuffled nervously after reading my question.  ‘Nevermind; tell me when you’re ready.  I have an idea on how you might get used to my language in the meantime.’  ‘How?’

Gently, I slid my hands around her torso and hoisted her up to my bed.  I could feel her breath hitch and heart skip a beat as she was lifted.  Hannah struggled for only a brief moment before recognizing what I was doing.  She turned to face me with a bewildered look the moment she could stand again.  “Tahw eht lleh saw taht rof?!  Uoy- Uoy t’nac tsuj kcip em pu ekil taht!  I teg taht uoy erew tsuj gnipleh em pu, tub I teg deracs nehw enoemos ym nwo ezis sbarg em, dnimreven a tnaig.”

She was yelling at me.  I know it’s probably because I picked her up without warning, though I can’t understand much else.  “Sorry; I’ll tell you before I do that next time.”  Hannah seemed to understand at least slightly because she nodded satisfactorily.  “Won tahw saw ti uoy detnaw em ereh rof?”  It took a second for me to remember why I’d put Hannah up there.  Grabbing the paper, writing stuff, and my phone, I got onto my bed myself.  I lay down so we were basically at eye level with eachother.  Hannah was actually taller than me that way.  ‘I thought we could kill two birds with one stone — spend some time together to make up for today, and get you to learn my language.’  While Hannah read my message, I propped my phone up on a pillow for both of us to see.

‘I thought we could watch a movie!’ I wrote happily.  ‘I’ll put the subtitles on so you can see how things are written and hear it at the same time.’  Hannah nodded, a small smile growing on her lips.  ‘I’d like that.  Thank you.’  I scrolled through a few different movies, letting her read and decipher the plot synopses of a few different ones before she finally chose and we settled in.  She’d picked a more girly movie I hadn’t seen because I hadn’t cared to watch it.  It wasn’t long before my eyelids grew heavy, and I let my head rest heavily on the bed.  

I don’t know how long I slept for, but I eventually woke up to the sound of snoring.  With a yawn, I lifted my head confusedly and froze.  Laying beside me, tucked against my arm, was the little Survivor, fast asleep.  For once she didn’t look conflicted.  In fact, she looked rather at peace.  My phone had shut off who knows how long ago, and I carefully slid my arm out from beneath Hannah to pick it up.  Carefully, I made my way off the bed and shut off my phone for the night.  Then, I turned back to Hannah.  I really didn’t want to wake her up, but I couldn’t sleep with her laying there.  Just like last night, when I had to put her to bed after passing out in tears, I again gently pulled her into my arms, tucking her to my chest to keep her from falling.  

With a slight mumble, Hannah turned over in my grip.  She unconsciously pressed herself against me, burying her face in the fabric of my pajamas.  She was adorable, but I had to put her down.  She’d never trust me again if she woke up to find herself snuggled in my arms.  I gave extra caution to make sure she fell seamlessly into bed, then slid a blanket over her.  I wanted to do more for her.  Though I know I’ve done a lot for her already, I can’t help but think it’s not enough.  Part of me already knows it’ll never be enough.  People destroyed her real home — the place where the Survivors came from.  I know this place will probably never feel like that, but I can at least try to make it a bit more welcoming.  Turning in for the day, I let my mind wander through things I could do or make for her.  It certainly won’t be perfect, but at least it’ll be something.  

[lifesliced]

i've been writing gevanni for like three or four years on the dash now, so i went and collected all the hcs from the various blogs he's been on to make a sort of master post of what i've done here on this blog since that's where he's actually active.

facts about gevanni -> according to ohba, gevanni was contacted to join the spk due to his ridiculously amazing skills.

he is skilled at lock-picking, document forging, and following subjects covertly without being noticed.

headcanons below / not canon sourced material:

due to basically no information being known about gevanni pre joining the spk, i’ve got him coming from the fbi since halle lidner is from the cia + secret service and commander anthony rester comes from a military background. it makes sense that gevanni might hail from the fbi to combine american intelligence forces together to allign against kira to form the spk. he is the one agent without a background agency supporting him officially to the audience. 

 this also allows affiliation with misora and penber, as naomi entered the academy on gevanni’s 20th birthday, and he subsequently joined a few years later at the age of 23. to be an fbi agent, you must be between the ages of 23 and 27. he graduated first with a bachelor’s degree in criminal law. 

he rides a motorcycle.

he has a sister, and she’s a hairdresser. he was born in toronto but moved to nyc before freshman year where he lived until being transferred to quantico. 

he is the younger child and has a 7yr age difference with his sister --> her name is eleanor grady, formerly eleanor loud. to her, gevanni is just stephen / steve. he hates being called steve.

from a lower/middle-class family that worked hard and was relatively blue collar through his childhood. he has a good work ethic inherited from his parents and pursued law enforcement after seeing, and sometimes enduring, injustices faced in impoverished neighborhoods without adequate resources. he has three nieces that he loves and sends gifts to often to make up for his consistent absence. 

gevanni likes to sail — ships in a bottle are his way of capturing what he doesn’t have time for anymore. he used to sail with his father both in canada and new york, enjoying the fresh air and open freedom. he had a few cousins he sailed with — one became an oil painter. gevanni has one of his paintings hanging in his apartment. 

additionally: for no reason whatsoever, i'm making gevanni canadian-born who moved to nyc the summer before his freshman year.

gevanni is a virgo

Virgos born on September 1st excel in all spiritual endeavors and often become missionaries with a higher cause. They are philanthropists ready to share their wealth, even when they don’t have that much to share, and nurture the ideal of a society that is supportive of all humans.

i posted once that gevanni drinks beer in the shower and i think that still stands.

in threads that tend to have gevanni interacting during cases either in or out of dn, he tends to go by an alias that isn’t his already used alias “gevanni”. he primarily uses the alias “alex fitzgerald” who he’s labelled as a “traveling businessman”. this allows him to move a bit more freely, especially when he isn’t able to introduce himself directly as “gevanni”, especially when working with the spk.

gevanni smells like the sea, he has a very nautical thing going with a hint of the forest. there's also touches of new car in there during the death note investigation. his actual blend? top notes of light new car, a base of salty sea and seashore, and finishing notes of sand, night air, and forest pine.

[mask131]

Another Shining post - this time about the history and past of the Overlook Hotel.

I am one of those people that think the novel and the movie complement each other very well (and we do not talk of the mini-series here). They are two approaches to a same story that do thinks very differently, and in both cases it works. And the point of the past of the Overlook Hotel proves that.

In Kubrick's movie, the past of the Hotel is left purposefully blurred, unclear, untold. We are given in the beginning a few clues and base lines: the famous facts, a possible origin for the hauntings/curse, and the most recent events - but they are not even told by a reliable narrator, rather by a character that was not there and merely retells what he knows. And the movie does not try to make us understand why there are ghosts, or who these ghosts were in life - we do not know how the room 237 got its ghost, we never know who the man performing sexual acts with a person disguised as an animal is, we don't understand why the elevators pour out blood, we are not even sure who these twin girls are supposed to be since they only ambiguously match the description of the Grady girls... There is definitively a history of the Overlook Hotel. There are definitively things that happened and that left their mark on the hotel - the "burned toast". But we only know of the very recent Grady case, and the rest is only hinted at by visuals, context, sounds - the banners hinting the New Years Party, the focus on specific time periods with the outfits and music of the ghosts, the final picture... We feel and instinctively know SOMETHING happened of enough importance that it left a stained on the Overlook, and that this hideous past is surfacing again...

But we do not know what this past is. We are never told what were the crimes perpetrated in the Overlook. We are never told how the ghosts died. There is the rule of "what is untold is even worse and scarier", because you find yourself in the realistic setting of someone stepping by accident onto a ground of unholy and supernatural evil - you don't try to understand where it comes from or how it shaped itself, you mostly try to understand what it is now and HOW TO ESCAPE IT WITH YOUR LIFE. This is all part of the building of the "mystery of the Overlook", because this is what Kubrick's Hotel is, an entire mystery in the most frightening sense, with its ghosts that might be hallucinations due to madness, and its impossible architecture...

Stephen King's novel does the opposite of that. We are given a full and complete history of the Overlook Hotel. We know all the important events that marked it, we are told the identity of almost all the ghosts inside of it, we can make a full chronology easily. And this is actually not just mere exposition but an integral part of the plot, as Jack's madness and obsession with the Hotel in the book relies in his fascination for the Hotel's glorious past, his investigation on the numerous scandals and deaths of the Overlook, and his ambition to write a book about the place. This is a key part of the character's slow and steady fall into madness - and it also serves as a slow preparation for the reader. First we are given spooky visions and creepy jumpscares, then we are slowly being sunk into the dark history of the Hotel and we understand the extent of its curse and corruption - and then it all bursts out as the Hotel "comes to life" for good. The whole explanation of the story serves as a perfect pivotal point between "This is creepy but we don't understand anything" and "Now we know the whole past, and we have to confront what's in the present".

Because this is also very important as to WHY the Overlook's history must be given to us. This allows us to see the corrupting effect of the Hotel over those who "die" there, and makes even more obvious the "absorbed by the hive-mind" logic behind it all. By giving us the full background check of all the Overlook ghosts, King isn't just acting as a "haunted house historian". He also prepares us in understanding what the Overlook does to people: we are given the full story of the woman in room 217. And what do we have of this story? A lonely, sad, depressed woman who wanted to be loved. No angry spirit, no revenge to take, she was no criminal or psycopath. She was just a depressed woman who killed herself because she couldn't face aging, rejection, the betrayal of the one she thought loved her... This is a very sad and dreadfully "mundane" story. And yet what is the ghost waiting in room 217? A being of pure hatred and malevolence, a perverse and frightening rotting entity only concerned with killing a little child in a slow and terrifying way. By giving us the ghost's origins, King actually shows us that the ghosts in the Overlook aren't just the doubles of the person they were in life... But that they are puppets filled by the Hotel's malevolent will - or rather, the "masks" of the Overlook. (This also works for Roger but I'll come back to this later)

And beyond all that - both ways of treating the Hotel's history serves perfectly well the "nightmare confusion" of the Overlook's ghostly apparitions. "Nightmare confusion" as in, the feeling of confusion one gets when in a nightmare. In the movie it is easily done - because the ghostly apparitions throw you within a context and setting you know nothing about, and that yet seems to know and include YOU for some reason, and that has little bits and pieces of things you vaguely know, enough to cause a slight familiarity muddled in the strangeness and foreigness of it all. To those that let themselves sink into it, like Jack at the party, it all instinctively makes sense even though we don't know the how and the why ; to those that refuse it, like Wendy wandering through the halls of the hotel, it only becomes a carnaval of nightmarish and freaky visuals without rhyme or reason.

While in the novel, the confusion comes from how we are perfectly a perfectly organized, very detailed, absolutely complete history of the Overlook with every little era and every important character in their little box... But inside the Overlook it all is swept away in a storm of anachronisms and improbable encounters. Part of the fright of the Overlook's ghosts is that they exist in this strange out-of-time otherworld where people from various decades and time eras suddenly find themselves together, co-existing and participating into a great party that took place before they were even born, or playing the roles of people that had no relationship to them in any way. It isn't just Grady becoming somehow a waiter for Derwent's grand ball ; but it is also this scene where Jack gets confused upon seeing the woman of the room 217 and the gangsters of the Presidential Suite drinking side by side in a bar - the same way the Overlook warps and twists the identities of the spirits inside of it, it also completely discards time and space to only keep the most essential and noteworthy elements that made its being, and all keeps them together, mixed and mashed into one impossible "golden age" or rather "golden night" that never truly existed. To exist outside of time and space is part of the allure and seduction of the Overlook... but it is also one of the frightening aspects of the hotel's dark power. You are invited to a party that never ends... but that you can never leave.

This change when it comes to the storytelling of the Overlook's past is especially important to notice when looking at Kubrick's decisions and focus when adapting King's novel. In the early treatment of the movie, in the first drafts of what would later become the script and was just a very long and detailed plot, in this first shot and first draft of the movie, there was still a very intense focus on Jack researching and discovering the history of the Overlook Hotel - through the "white book". It was lifted from the novel, and such an emphasis was placed on it that the original idea for the movie ending was all about this part of the plot. The original ending was that the white book about the Hotel's history had been left on Jack's table - and as the camera zoomed in, a mysterious white-gloved hand closed the book and took it away. But already in this early treatment there was a decision to still focus on Jack searching the history - but keeping the viewer in the dark about it. For example, there were supposed to be lines and brief views of newspaper articles about the mafia shoot-out at the hotel... without ever explaining or telling why it happened, who was involved or where it took place. There was already this effort of "We are telling you some things... But we are not telling you more." to leave the viewer with the sense that something happened, and the knowledge that something happened, but an incapacity to tell exactly what. This was then taken further in ulterior treatments of the script, as the whole "white book and Jack's research" subplot was cut off - though the white book did survive as a visual Easter egg. You can see its prop on Jack's table next to his typewriter when he is working on his manuscript.

[Note: I wanted originally to make a whole segment discussing "Before the Play", but since this post is already way too long, I'll stop here and keep it for another day.]

To conclude, I will point out one final thing. About King's treatment of the Overlook history. There is a reason why the over-explaining of the hotel's past does NOT kill the mystery of the Overlook in the novel, and that's because King did a perfect imbalance between two things. On one side, the origin of the ghosts and the "haunted house history-check" - explained in every little detail possible. But on the other... the origin of the hauntings? The first incident that kicked it off? How the malevolent consciousness of the hotel appeared? We are never told anything about this. We are told the origin of every vision, every ghost, every trick of the Hotel and yet... the Hotel stays the biggest mystery by the end. Because we are never told when the horror and hauntings began. We are never told what exactly is the nature of the Hotel's "life" and "spirit" - did it formed itself out of all the bad things in it? Did it pre-existed the deaths? Maybe it even was there before the hotel itself... And this is strongly implied by Doctor Sleep - which points out there is something vile and corrupted within the ground itself, but one important thing to remember is that the "Indian burial ground" line of Kubrick's movie is ONLY in the movie. There is no Indian burial ground or Native American anything in the novel. The hotel just happened to be built onto a nice little patch of land nobody had apparently ever lived in or got near... And there was no "big incident" or "start of curse" for the Hotel. Bad things simply started to happen out of nowhere, and ghosts started appearing, and the... thing that gave life to the hotel started its activities. It just happened, and we will never know the how or why because nobody actually has an answer - even the True Knot doesn't know anything about the Overlook's true nature. This was a rule King kept insisting upon in his early days of writing: Sometimes, bad things just happen for no good reason, and that's what makes them even more terrifying. This was perfectly illustrated by his short story about a finger appearing out of the sink of a man one day, all while a TV show keeps repeating again and again the impossible question: "Why do bad things happen to good people?".

And so, in a paradoxal way, Kubrick's movie, by telling us barely anything about the hotel's history, multiplies the possible explanations (First Nation curse, deal with the devil, isolation madness), while King's novel, by over-explaining everything that happened in the hotel, leaves us completely in the dark about what exactly the hotel is or why these things happened, making it even more eerie. You can document and retrace anything concerning human activity... But the Overlook's force is beyond all human records.

[marypsue]

hi mary! do you have any book recommendations for fans of the indian lake trilogy and/or horror books in general? i love your writing (followed way back for your gf fics lol) and would love to hear if theres anything in particular you'd recommend ^^

Oh hello hello hello! You've activated my trap card.

Honestly, I read less horror than I let on, and have started reading it more recently than not, so this may be a rather short list. But yeah I absolutely have some recommendations! If you enjoyed My Heart Is A Chainsaw (I really have to read the sequel) and you like my writing, I think our aesthetic and narrative sensibilities should be pretty similar, so hopefully these will be books you'll also enjoy.

First on the list and most obvious is of course My Best Friend's Exorcism, by Grady Hendrix. It's perfect companion reading for My Heart Is A Chainsaw, also being about two teenage girls navigating a difficult period in their friendship, complicated by the fact that something supernatural may or may not be trying to kill them and everyone around them, and may or may not, in fact, exist. Abby and Gretchen and their friendship are so wonderfully drawn, the absurd humour only underlines the helpless horror of their situation, and the climax made me bawl like a fucking infant. 11/10 no notes.

I'd also recommend We Sold Our Souls, also by Grady Hendrix, for some of the same and some slightly different reasons. If you were drawn in by Jade's girl-alone-against-the-world situation and her punky, horror-movie-obsessed alternative vibe, you'll like Kris Pulaski and her heavy metal quest to get her life and her music back. Another one that made me cry, and it's only getting more timely and relevant with every passing year.

I really liked Nick Medina's Sisters of the Lost Nation, about an older sister looking for her younger sister after the latter disappears from their reservation after a secret rendezvous at the recently-constructed casino. Anna and Jade share a certain 'nobody else is going to fix this, so it's up to me' sensibility, the way the author pulls together ancient mythology and modern horrors is well-crafted and spooky, and there's a deeply intentional queer thread running through this one from start to finish. Warning, though, this is a deeply, deeply sad book.

In terms of meta horror about horror, Riley Sager's Final Girls surprised me with how good and gripping it was. I picked it up expecting easy-reading paperback fluff, and got sucked right in. If you crossed over Halloween: H20 with Twin Peaks, you might get something like this book. I never see anybody talking about it anywhere ever and I have to strongly recommend it. (Unfortunately, it didn't focus as closely on the relationships between the 'final girls' as I wanted it to, but I still wasn't disappointed.)

Joe Hill's N0S48U kicked my ass and made me say 'thank you'. This one's pretty tragic, so maybe give it a miss if you don't want to read about bad things happening to characters you like, but, well, this is horror. Notable because the antagonist is Christmas-themed, and honestly, I've never seen anyone else so effectively harness the crawling feeling of Wrongness that seeing Christmas shit in July gives me.

And, going wayyyy back, one of the first horror novels I actually read all the way through (on the advice of a friend), Stephen King's The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon. If you were a My Side Of The Mountain / Hatchet kind of kid, this is the book for you. And if for some obscure reason you haven't read Carrie yet, what are you waiting for.

I also read Paul Tremblay's The Pallbearers' Club, which somehow didn't quite manage to deliver on what I was hoping for, but which you might enjoy if you liked some of the other books on this list. If you like punk music and/or characters who like punk music, meta conceits, and New England folklore, give it a shot. (I think I knew a little too much about the subject matter going in for some of the big ~surprises~ to actually surprise me.)

I've also got on my TBR list Edgar Cantero's Meddling Kids, Stephen Graham Jones' The Only Good Indians, Jessica Johns' Bad Cree, and Riley Sager's The House Across The Lake and Survive the Night. I can't speak for any of them yet, though.

(And tossing a movie onto this list, you might really enjoy Netflix's The Final Girls. It's a lot fluffier than My Heart Is A Chainsaw, but for a fun meta slasher horror-mostly-comedy, it was a solid good time. With an ambush sequence that was pretty clearly inspired by Joel Schumacher's The Lost Boys!)

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

Sicktember #9

Prompt: White Coat Syndrome

Fandom/OCs: Jurassic World (Claire and Owen)

Words: 1700

Inspiration: None

Author’s comments/background: Set before the events of the first Jurassic World movie, a few days after the last fic I wrote for this fandom (read it here if you want). I know this isn’t a super popular fandom, but as I said before, it’s one I know well and can write easily. And guys like Owen are the perfect whumpees in my opinion. 

~~~***~~~

Claire wasn't sure what led her to go check on Owen that evening, except that she had a hunch he might need some help. The Monday after their strange “date”, he didn’t show up for work, and after some digging, she learned he had called in sick. A man like Owen Grady, born and raised in the military, doesn’t call into work for a cold, or for anything short of being near death. He hadn’t been well on Saturday, but it hadn’t seemed like anything alarming. Had he worsened over the rest of the weekend?

Going completely against her character, she actually left work early that day. “I won’t even leave in time to make sure I get dinner at a decent hour, but I’m leaving early to check on some random guy. What does that say about me?” she muttered to herself as she drove over to his bungalow. 

It looked much the same as it had two days prior, though today it had an almost deserted feel. With some trepidation, Claire mounted the steps and knocked. It took several tries before he answered, and when he did she regretted not texting ahead like she’d considered. He was an awful mess, looking sicker than anyone she’d ever seen. He was sweaty and disheveled, and he sagged against the doorframe as if his legs couldn’t hold him, yawning and shirtless and dressed in athletic shorts. Behind him his house was dark with all the blinds drawn, so she couldn’t see what lay beyond. 

“Claire?” he croaked, squinting into the afternoon sunlight, though he stayed as far back from the light as he could. “Whadt are you doi’g here?”

“I heard you were still sick, so I came to check on you. I’m glad I did, because, wow, are you looking horrible. Are you… okay?” 

“I mbean… I’ve been bedder. I wouldn’t have called in if I wasn’t sigck as hell.” He coughed wetly, proving his point. “Did you cumb jusdt to see for yourself, vouch to the bosses thadt I’mb ndot playi’g hooky? 

“I came because I was worried about you. I wanted to make sure you were taking care of yourself. Can I… come in for a minute?”

Owen ran a hand through his tangled hair. “I mbean… thadt’s really ndot ndecessary. I’mb fide. But I guess suidt yourself.” He stood aside to let her brush past. 

“I can see from here that you’re most certainly not fine. You said it yourself, you wouldn’t have called in if you were fine. Here, sit. Or lie down if you want. I’m sorry I got you out of bed. Can I get you anything?”

“Ndo. I told you, I’mb fide. I’mb… I’mb handli’g idt.” He gingerly lowered himself to the couch and lay back as he spoke, pressing a hand to his forehead as if in pain. 

“Nothing? Not even a glass of water? I can run to the store too. Whatever you need.”

“I guess sumb water. Budt you really don’t have to stay. I don’t wandt you to catch this.”

She ignored him and fetched him a tall glass of ice water. He sat up awkwardly, drinking down the liquid as if he hadn’t drunk anything all day. The way the fever sweat was pouring off him, she guessed he probably felt like he hadn’t. She’d brought a clean, dry cloth back with her from the kitchen and sponged off the sweat from his face and neck as he drank, then pressed her palm to his forehead. He was roaring with heat, much warmer than he’d been only a few nights before. He groaned softly as he leaned into her touch. 

“Damn, I should’ve brought a thermometer,” she sighed. “What hurts? You have to have some sort of infection with a fever like that.”

He shrugged, stifling a cough. “Mbainly jusdt mby head. I’ve had the worst splitti’g headache since yesterday. Mby ndose, I guess. Jusdt totally plugged up.” 

“Is there green mucus when you sneeze?”

“Umb… yeah,” he mumbled, embarrassed. 

“And your headache is here?” she gently touched right between his eyes. He nodded miserably, pressing the ice-filled glass to the spot as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Sinus infection,” she said, nodding sagely. “That means antibiotics. C’mon, I’ll drive you to the doctor. I don’t trust you behind the wheel, since I’m sure your head hurts too badly to see straight.”

Owen made a face. “I’ll jusdt ledt idt run idt’s course. I’mb ndot goi’g to the doctor jusdt for a cold.”

“Sinus infection,” Claire corrected. “And yes you are. It’ll take weeks to clear up on its own, if it ever does, and you’ll get worse before you get better. Trust me, the doctor is what you want.”

“Ndo, I really don’t. I’mb fide withoudt,” he insisted, and this time Claire thought she saw a flash of fear in his eyes. 

Claire raised her eyebrows. “Owen Grady, are you afraid of going to the doctor? You are, aren’t you!” she answered herself when he shook his head mutely, his eyes wide. “You’re not afraid of raptors, but you’re afraid of people in white coats?”

He sighed, then coughed wetly, glancing away. “Adt least the raptors would kill mbe fasdt. Doctors poke and prod you until you die a slow, paindful death instead. I had enough of thadt in the service.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” she said. “It’ll be a short visit. Just in and out to get a prescription. And I’ll be with you every step of the way. Consider it a second date. We can even get food after, if it’ll make you feel better.”

She had definitely piqued his interest upon mentioning a date, but she saw him continuing to war internally. “You’re sure I ndeed mbedicine?”

“Pretty certain, yeah. And you can’t tell me you aren’t wanting something to help you feel better faster.”

He shrugged as he looked up at her again, and all she saw was nervousness, which when paired with his visible illness made him seem incredibly boyish. “If I go, you’ll stay with mbe?”

“The whole time. If that’s what you want.”

He thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Thed I guess I’ll do idt. Since I can tell you’re ndot goi’g to ledt idt go.”

“Nope, I'm not. So I’m glad you’re being reasonable. Do you need help getting ready?”

She saw a flash of the old, roguish Owen then. “Are you offeri’g?” he asked with a smirk.

“You know what, forget I said anything. You go ahead, and take as long as you need. But try to not collapse while you’re naked, please. Neither of us wants that.”

“Yes mba’am,” came the slightly deflated response.

~~~

The urgent care visit and subsequent pharmacy run were unremarkable. Owen was a ball of anxiety the whole time, fidgeting and agitated. He was brusque and borderline rude to the nurses, even though most of them were very pretty, and Claire watched this transpire with curiosity. The telling moment came when they were taking his blood pressure and pulse, though. 

“Those are both pretty high,” came the verdict from the nurse. She looked at him seriously. “And you're not on any blood pressure meds. Other than your respiratory symptoms, are you feeling okay?”

“I’mb fide, like I keep telli’g everyone. I jusdt don’t wandt to be here,” he spat. 

A look of understanding crossed her face. “Oh, so a case of whitecoat syndrome, then. Got it.” She made a note in his chart, and nothing more was said about it, though Claire gave him a playful nudge when they were alone to try to lighten the mood. He mostly ignored her and stared at his feet, shivering in long sleeves and sweatpants and looking utterly pathetic. 

She could tell he was more than relieved when they pulled into his driveway after all was said and done, and beyond exhausted as well. It seemed like he barely made it to the couch before collapsing, burying his face into a throw pillow. 

Claire bustled around, setting things down and fetching him water and medicine as she listened to him sniffle and cough endlessly. Finally she perched on the edge of the couch and rubbed his back to get his attention. He turned to meet her eyes, his own heavy-lidded and fever-bright. 

“Just take this medicine and drink a glass of water, and then I’ll let you sleep,” she promised. 

He took the items and did as he was instructed before settling down again. Claire continued to stroke his back for a bit, and his eyes slipped closed under her touch. After a few moments she stood and stretched. 

“Are you leavi’g?” he croaked, opening his eyes as soon as her hand was gone.

“I guess so. You should get some sleep, and so should I. It’s getting late.”

His face fell. “Oh. Okay.”

“What? There’s nothing else I can do for you right now. We got everything you need at the pharmacy. There’s no reason for me to stay.”

“Can you… adt leasdt stay until I fall asleebp?” he asked, boyish and shy again. He wondered if he was doing that intentionally, because it was very effective. 

“And why would I do that?” she asked, leaning against the doorframe, echoing their exchange from a few nights prior with a smirk.

He clearly remembered, and smiled back. “Idt’s jusdt… you prombised you’d be with mbe every stebp of the way. The ndight’s ndot over yedt.”

Claire shook her head, still smiling. “So I did. Okay. Until you fall asleep, then.”

“Will you rub mby bagck again? Thadt feldt so good,” came the final congested request. 

“Give an inch and he asks for a mile," she laughed. "Fine, scoot over a bit, then.”

Owen eagerly complied, closing his eyes again as soon as Claire resumed scratching and rubbing his back. 

“Do you thingk you’ll cumb bagck tomorrow?” he asked sleepily after a few moments. 

“Maybe. We’ll see. If you play your cards right.”

“Thed I hope I gedt the besdt damn hand ever.”

Claire smiled to herself, and so did Owen. In fact, he fell asleep with a smile on his face. She kept rubbing his back, though, and didn’t move for a long time. 

[hey-howdy-hello]

3, 6, 13!

Original ask post

3. What were your top five books of the year?

The Luminous Dead by Caitlin Starling, claustrophobic psychological horror with a sci-fi premise, really incredible.

The Dresden Files--if I count all seventeen books plus the short stories as separate, they'll take up most of the list! My favorite of the series is probably Skin Game, but Battle Ground and Turn Coat are strong contenders.

1984--started it while waiting for a Dresden book to become available on Libby, didn't end up finishing it but I want to go back to it at some point. Better than I was expecting, very engaging!

Camp Damascus by Chuck Tingle, supernatural gay rights horror. The ending went a little off the rails for me but the early parts genuinely made it hard to sleep.

Annihilation by Jeff VanderMeer, surreal sci-fi unreliable narrator horror. I don't think I'm exactly its target audience (surreal ambiguity isn't usually my thing) but it still really hooked me!

This is excluding rereads, because I don't want these excellent books I read for the first time to have to compete with Rhenegade, Good Omens, and Ender's Game, all of which I know a lot better and reread this year!

6. Was there anything you meant to read, but never got to?

Tons! A few specifics are the sequels to Annihilation, Authority and Acceptance; Cien años de soledad by Gabriel Garcia Marquez (might still get to that one in time for new years); and Hammers on Bone by Cassandra Khaw (tragically not on Libby). Also a lot of fanfics, mostly yours, iztopher! I'm way behind.

13. What were your least favorite books of the year?

I was a good few books into Dresden Files by January or else the first few of those would be real strong answers--I enjoyed them a great deal, but hoo boy the misogyny. The weird sexualization of Molly in some of the later books dragged them down, too, so Proven Guilty in particular is a fair answer to this question, though the series overall holds its high spot.

As far as simple enjoyment, I didn't really vibe with My Best Friend's Exorcism by Grady Hendrix; no shade on Hendrix, I did love How to Sell a Haunted House, but Exorcism just really didn't grab me. Maybe just unrelatable to me, because the writing was certainly good, or I might have just been on my way out of a horror phase.

[sasusc]

So, as soon as I saw some of the Daryl spin-off pics from behind the scenes and whatever they've released, I had this blot bunny nibbling at my ear. And I so don't have time right now to attempt to write it...and once the series starts and we know more about these French characters, I might lose interest in writing something against canon character backgrounds. Maybe another Bethyl writer will take it up? Or they had the same idea and I'll be looking forward to reading it. I'm unloading and dumping this stuff that's been living in my head as soon as I started seeing posts and articles about Daryl’s spin-off and reading all the "Beth is alive!" theories. Somebody do something with it! I probably won't have time.

Anyways, I just saw this on the Instagram and it just brought me warm and fuzzy feelings. I know the post probably got some wires cross or something. I didn't look farther into the poster either.

This is what I saw (possible spoilers ahead):

Um, hello? This gave me such Daddy Daryl vibes. When I first saw this kid as a character, my delusional Bethyl heart saw him as a possible Daryl Jr. Like, if Beth survived and Beth and Daryl had sex before she was taken by Grady, this kid--Laurent--could be the right age. And then there's the info for the spin-off that Daryl would have to decide between his old and "new" family (I couldn't find a direct quote but it was something like this). I mean, look at the below pic... It could fit. Lol

And I looked up the name meaning for Laurent--which is:

"The bright one, shining one"

Reminds me of Beth. She's the sun and sunshine in her family's eyes. And probably something she would name a child. Lol. Pregnant/single mother in France--little to no chance of trying to cross an ocean to get back home, she'll pick a French name to blend in and pick a name that has some meaning.

And back to the first pic, the quote that's claiming its Laurent to Daryl? Daryl’s happy ending to me is finding Beth and having someone to settle down with. I really can't imagine they would use the same quote Judith said to Daryl, so I'm a little iffy Laurent would say this in the series. But if Daryl is struggling over staying in France with Beth and Laurent (a family he dreamed of but didn't think was possible) or going back to the US to his family there...Laurent could be saying "hey, be happy! Choose what would make you happy"

[maddie-grove]

Little Book Review: General Fiction Round-Up (May-December 2022)

Maddaddam by Margaret Atwood (2013): In the final volume of Atwood's environmental dystopian trilogy (preceded by Oryx and Crake and The Year of the Flood), the survivors of a manmade eco-fascist plague, along with a population of genetically engineered humanoids, must try to make a life in the ruins. Atwood is one of my favorite authors and, while I generally prefer her non-speculative fiction, I really enjoyed the whole trilogy. She's really engaged with the ideas she explores (mostly related to GMOs and income inequality) and grounds them vividly in everyday life. I especially like the way the genetically engineered humanoids (the Crakers) process the world around them.

The Testaments by Margaret Atwood (2019): In the sequel to The Handmaid's Tale, Atwood tells the story of three women in the same universe: a Commander's daughter in Gilead, a daughter of Mayday operatives living in Toronto, and Aunt Lydia, first seen "training" Handmaids in The Handmaid's Tale. I liked The Handmaid's Tale in high school, but I can't say I came away wanting to know more about that world...yet, as it turns out, I totally did want to know more about the pastel horrors of an elite Gilead girlhood. The audiobook is also top-notch, with Ann Dowd, Ann Whitman, and Bryce Dallas Howard doing the three main POVs.

Magic for Beginners by Kelly Link (2005): In nine "short" stories (many of them are quite long), Link writes about absurd things happening in mundane settings. Pretty Monsters, another short story collection of hers with some overlap, was one of my favorite books I read in 2014, but this time I wasn't feeling it. I'd already read the three best entries: "Stone Animals" (about a nebulously haunted house in a suburb of NYC), "Magic for Beginners" (about a mysterious TV show and a teen boy whose father is maybe trying to murder him via writing a novel), and "The Faery Handbag" (about a girl whose grandmother carries around an entire lost country in her purse). The others never really came together. I might have lost my taste for whimsy.

Dune by Frank Herbert (1965): In the very distant future, fifteen-year-old Paul Atreides has to move to a different planet for his father's work, and it only gets worse from there. I resisted reading Dune for the longest time because it sounded as dry as a desert planet where you have to reabsorb your own urine to survive. However, it fucks. I loved the layers of power dynamics and game-playing, especially in the scenes with Lady Jessica. Evil, horny Baron Harkonnen and his weirdly tragic nephew Feyd-Rautha were also great. I didn't like it so much after the time skip, though, and I think I'll give the sequels a pass.

The Final Girl Support Group by Grady Hendrix (2021): Paranoid and reclusive after being targeted twice by Christmas-themed killers, Lynette Tarkington's social life consists of a support group for "final girls" (women who have survived grisly massacres that were adapted into horror movies). I never quite got on board with this one, for two major reasons. The first is that I was irrationally annoyed by the idea that horror movies were seemingly all one-to-one true crime stories in this universe. That's on me. The second is that Hendrix never managed to convince me that most of these women had ever had a significantly positive relationship with each other. This novel could've been a Toast article.

Horrorstör by Grady Hendrix (2014): Amy, a cash-strapped and unhappy twenty-something working at an IKEA knockoff, is offered a transfer to a better store if she'll stay after-hours to investigate some strange recent happenings. This isn't my favorite Hendrix novel; however, it is the fucking scariest. The characterization isn't as rich as it is in most of his other novels--I would describe it as efficient--but the pacing is effectively brisk and the nature of the fake-IKEA haunting almost made me shit my pants.

We Sold Our Souls by Grady Hendrix (2018): Kris Pulaski, once a guitarist/songwriter for up-and-coming heavy metal group Dürt Würk, now lives a life of resignation as a hotel night manager. Meanwhile, her ex-bandmate Terry Hunt is still a massively successful rock star after going nu-metal...and suddenly Kris has reason to believe that he did something truly sinister to make that happen. After My Best Friend's Exorcism, this is my favorite Hendrix novel. He's unusually moderate in putting his heroine through the mill, both in terms of physical peril and self-flagellation, and balances it with the joy she finds in her creative life. The otherworldly threat she faces is nicely chilling, and I loved the bittersweet ending.

Stranger Things: The Other Side by Jody Houser (2019): In this tie-in comic to Stranger Things, we see the first season from twelve-year-old Will Byers's point-of-view as he struggles to survive in the Upside Down. There's some good characterization of Will and a few cool visuals, but overall it's pretty inessential. The writing is kind of flat and sometimes awkward, and the art style is overall muddy and unappealing.

Mysterious Skin by Scott Heim (1995): Neil and Brian, two kids growing up in the same midsized Kansas town, both have life-altering traumatic experiences in the summer of 1981. Brian doesn't remember what happened, and comes to believe in the following years that he was abducted by aliens; Neil knows exactly what went on between him and his sexually predatory Little League coach, but that doesn't mean he understands it. Several years ago, I saw the 2004 movie version, which is amazing both as an adaptation and on its own terms: nuanced, well-paced, beautifully acted and shot, and faithful to all that's good in the source material. Unfortunately, this did slightly lessen the impact of the (also stellar) novel.

Ghost Wall by Sarah Moss (2018): In the early 1990s, working-class seventeen-year-old Silvie spends a summer holiday in a Northumberland village, reenacting Iron Age life with her churlish history buff father, her downtrodden mother, a pompous anthropology professor, and three of his students. It's promising to be more miserable than your average family camping trip, between the lack of modern tech/food and Silvie's father's domestic tyrannies, but are we getting into The Wicker Man territory? This is a tense, deliciously creepy, and lyrical little novella that I finished in one evening because it was so exciting.

Normal People by Sally Rooney (2018): Withdrawn rich girl Marianne, despised at home and at school, starts a no-strings-attached relationship with working-class Connell, who's handsome and bright but kind of a follower. Thus begins an on-again, off-again thing that will follow them through college and change them forever. I really liked this romance between two troubled yet essentially sensible and sweet college students, although it's a bit slow at times. I especially enjoyed the first time that Connell and Marianne's power dynamic flips; she's kind of an It Girl at university, while he's out of his depth.

Summerwater by Sarah Moss (2020): Several families "enjoy" a miserable summer holiday by a Scottish lake over the course of a rainy day. We get the perspectives of several vacationers--judgmental moms, crotchety old men, worried newlyweds, teenagers desperate for wifi and privacy, anxious little kids--with several dark hints that someone will meet a terrible fate. Moss's writing is pleasurable to read and often funny, but I needed a damn flow chart for these people.

The Brittanys by Brittany Ackerman (2021): Brittany, a Floridian high school freshman in 2004, navigates life in her gated community and her suburban high school, hanging out with her friends (most of whom are also named Brittany) and wearing low-rise jeans. Maybe I was unduly influenced by the author being named Brittany, but this novel reads like a bunch of fond adolescent memories with the occasional gesture at some larger meaning. It feels like the author couldn't decide between trying to do an emotional mid-oughts coming-of-age story (like Lady Bird) or a slice-of-life portrait of a certain type of high school experience (like Fast Times at Ridgemont High). The stakes aren't high enough for the first (the biggest through-line is that Brittany's BFF Brittany might be a lesbian but neither of them seems to know it) and the scope isn't wide enough for the second. I think the book would've been better off as, like, two short stories.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

11x24: Rest in Peace - Rick and Michonne + TTD Event

Okay, here are my musings on some general theme, the Rick and Michonne scenes, and the TTD after special they had with all the actors and writers.

General Themes:

I noticed that the “I love yous” in this episode were specifically platonic. We didn’t see Carol and Zeke or Eugene and Max or Luke and Jules say I love you to each other. The I love yous came from best friends and platonic relationships. Daryl and Carol said it, as did Rosita and Eugene. I thought that was interesting, and probably purposeful.

I also noticed that after talking to Rosita, Max asked Eugene if he was okay. Now, Daryl and Carol have said that to each other, so I won’t say they give that line ONLY to romantic couples, but Beth and Daryl did say that to each other, so it jumped out at me.

Rick and Michonne’s Scenes:

I don’t have any massive, smoking gun theories here, but I just want to make a few observations. First, both of them are writing journal-type entries, which very much invokes Beth.

We see a montage as Rick and Michonne speak, and we see Beth several times in it. Granted, by itself it doesn’t prove much as we see most of the characters in the show, both living and dead, in it, but it was still nice to see.

It’s nice to see that Rick is trying to escape the CRM, but is being unsuccessful. I mean, I’m sure we all figured that he’s at least trying to get back to his family, but it’s still nice to see.

The fact that he’s not wearing shoes is important. For those who didn’t watch TWB, there was something just like this with Silas in that. In his case, he was inside the CRM civilization, but when he was found being somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be, they took his shoes. So, obviously this is something the CRM does to keep people from running. Rick got away anyway, but he didn’t get far before the CRM found him.

And honestly guys (okay, maybe this is a LITTLE BIT of a massive, smoking gun theory) this may be what the lost shoe/foot symbolism is all about. Or at least, why they use the lost shoe/foot to symbolize it, rather than something else.

With Al and Isobel (of FTWD), one of the lost their shoe in a quagmire, just before Isobel disappeared into the CRM. We’ve established that Rick and Michonne’s story in 7x12 is a clear foreshadow of Rick’s departure into the CRM, and in that episode, one of the walker’s feet comes off in his hand. Because of the shoe/foot stuff around Rick, I’ve wondered if he would have a bad or messed up leg that prevented him from traveling, or if he might even lose a leg. We saw no evidence of this in this snippet of Rick, but we did see that he lacked shoes.

I think the idea is that it’s difficult to travel long distances in this world without shoes. In Inmates, Beth sees a disembodied shoe near the railroad tracks, and that’s not long before she’s taken by the Grady people, who have ties to the CRM. So, it was a foreshadow of her, for whatever reason, not being able to escape the CRM, and not being able to get back to her family. We also saw the camera zero in on Rick’s shoes on the bridge. Remember, he was dripping blood on them. Just the fact that they focused so intently on his boots is important. Of course, Michonne later found them on the boat, where they were obviously taken from him so he wouldn’t “run” or escape. They focused on Beth’s boots in the exact same way in Inmates.

Moving on. We also saw Rick wearing a CRM jacket with the three circles on them. When he realizes they’ve found him, he throws his bag onto a boat. Not sure what to make of that, but I’m sure it’s important. Obviously there are things in the bag he doesn’t want them to find. And maybe he’s thinking that when he escapes again, he’ll come back for it. But the boat symbolism is important here. They also call him “consignee” Grimes.

Consignee is an interesting term. It would be very purposefully used here. A consignee is someone to whom goods or documents are delivered. They are responsible for said goods, and sometimes responsible for selling them on behalf of the person they got them from. So, we don’t really know what this means in the context of the CRM, but it’s interesting.

The guy in the helicopter says, “Come on, Rick. It’s like HE told you (emphasis mine). There’s no escape for the living.” They’re obviously dropping hints and doing setups for Rick and the CRM. I can only assume the “no escape for the living” refers to the CRM not allowing people to leave. (You know, just like Grady?) And I totally want to know who “he” is, but they really don’t give us any clues.

They go through the whole “we’re the ones who live” thing with many characters saying it. I had hoped to see or hear Beth say it as well, but I don’t think we did. However, it didn’t occur to me until they started talking about it on the after show that there’s an inherent theme in that line. Of course it’s talking about those who are still alive. And Beth living, despite no one expecting her, would be the perfect person to apply that line to.

But in the show, “living” has always been set at odds with “surviving.” As in, surviving is just barely hanging on and doing sometimes horrible things to ensure survival. Living is entirely different. Living means being happy and at peace. It means enjoying life and building a good life with family around you. Beth was all about living. At Grady, she even says to Edwards, “you call this living?” So the fact that they emphasized this theme so much at the end and that it ties directly to something Beth said at Grady is significant.

They also did another montage at the end where all the actors thanked the fans. We saw Emily there as well, just for one clip where she says, “the fans.” And once again, we saw lots of both living and deceased characters there, so we can’t point to it as a smoking gun or anything, but Beth really was included in a lot of ways here.

So, I think that’s all I have from the episode. Let’s talk quickly about the after show.

I didn’t write down tons from it. There were lots of tears and laughs and stories, and I found it very enjoyable to watch. Not tons of TD stuff, though.

Chris did say several times that there is still so much story left to tell. That’s their way of saying the characters aren’t going anywhere and we have tons more to go over. Imho, that includes Beth.

Josh/Eugene made a joke about Eugene being the last man standing. He said there was a cut scene where Eugene shot everyone so he could be that. Just a joke, but it also seemed to me that they purposely had someone bring up this line. The line that Beth said to Daryl. And remember how much Eugene has been a proxy for Daryl this season, searching for his lost love in Max.

Something Caley/Judith said reminded me of something Emily said on the TTD after Coda. Chris asked Cailey about filming that final episode. She talked about how she was injured for the whole thing, so instead of running around like Judith usually does, she was “pale, and basically dead” the entire episode. Kind of an odd thing to say since, to the average viewer, Judith was never terribly close to death. Yes, it was a major, traumatic injury, and Daryl and Carol were clearly terrified for Judith’s welfare. But even so, at no time did the show make us believe Judith wasn’t going to make it. It always seemed she would, at least for present.

But Cailey’s words reminded me of how Emily described filming the final scene of Coda where Daryl carries Beth out. She jokingly said that it was, “an easy scene for me” because she just had to lay there and play dead. So, not only were the sequences with Beth and Judith being shot ridiculously similar in the episode, the two actresses even described them similarly afterward on TTD.

The only other major note I had is that, in talking about Dead City, Lauren Cohan mentioned Christmas. They asked what was great about the show, and she got kind of flustered and obviously didn’t want to say too much. She was just trying to convey that it’s great and she’s having fun doing it, but she says, “what’s good about Christmas?” I don’t know. I’m not 100% saying this was an intentional mention for the sake of TD symbolism, but it certainly felt kind of off-the-wall and out of the blue to me.

Again, they didn’t really talk to Emily. She stood on stage with everyone at the end, but so did lots of other actors they didn’t talk to, like Lenny James, Alanna Masterson, and more. So, disappointing that we didn’t get to see more of her, but I still think a lot of this stuff is suspicious. And as I said before, I think they were more trying to focus on what happened in the flagship show, rather than what’s coming next.

That’s it for this episode. Anything I missed?

[the-haunted-office]

Slewfoot by Brom

Connecticut, 1666: An ancient spirit awakens in a dark wood. The wildfolk call him Father, slayer, protector. The colonists call him Slewfoot, demon, devil. To Abitha, a recently widowed outcast, alone and vulnerable in her pious village, he is the only one she can turn to for help. Together, they ignite a battle between pagan and Puritan – one that threatens to destroy the entire village, leaving nothing but ashes and bloodshed in their wake. This terrifying tale of bewitchery features more than two dozen of Brom’s haunting full-color paintings and brilliant endpapers, fully immersing readers in this wild and unforgiving world.

The Turn of the Key by Ruth Ware

When she stumbles across the ad, she’s looking for something else completely. But it seems like too good an opportunity to miss—a live-in nannying post, with a staggeringly generous salary. And when Rowan Caine arrives at Heatherbrae House, she is smitten—by the luxurious “smart” home fitted out with all modern conveniences, by the beautiful Scottish Highlands, and by this picture-perfect family. What she doesn’t know is that she’s stepping into a nightmare—one that will end with a child dead and herself in prison awaiting trial for murder. Writing to her lawyer from prison, she struggles to explain the events that led to her incarceration. It wasn’t just the constant surveillance from the home’s cameras, or the malfunctioning technology that woke the household with booming music, or turned the lights off at the worst possible time. It wasn’t just the girls, who turned out to be a far cry from the immaculately behaved model children she met at her interview. It wasn’t even the way she was left alone for weeks at a time, with no adults around apart from the enigmatic handyman. It was everything. She knows she’s made mistakes. She admits that she lied to obtain the post, and that her behavior toward the children wasn’t always ideal. She’s not innocent, by any means. But, she maintains, she’s not guilty—at least not of murder—but somebody is.

Man, Fuck This House by Brian Asma

Sabrina Haskins and her family have just moved into their dream home, a gorgeous Craftsman in the rapidly-growing Southwestern city of Jackson Hill. Sabrina’s a bored and disillusioned homemaker, Hal a reverse mortgage salesman with a penchant for ill-timed sports analogies. Their two children, Damien and Michaela, are bright and precocious. At first glance, the house is perfect. But things aren’t what they seem. Sabrina’s hearing odd noises, seeing strange visions. Their neighbors are odd or absent. And Sabrina’s already-fraught relationship with her son is about to be tested in a way no parent could ever imagine. Because while the Haskins family might be the newest owners of 4596 James Circle, they’re far from its only residents…

How to Sell a Haunted House by Grady Hendrix

When Louise finds out her parents have died, she dreads going home. She doesn’t want to leave her daughter with her ex and fly to Charleston. She doesn’t want to deal with her family home, stuffed to the rafters with the remnants of her father’s academic career and her mother’s lifelong obsession with puppets and dolls. She doesn’t want to learn how to live without the two people who knew and loved her best in the world.   Most of all, she doesn’t want to deal with her brother, Mark, who never left their hometown, gets fired from one job after another, and resents her success. Unfortunately, she’ll need his help to get the house ready for sale because it’ll take more than some new paint on the walls and clearing out a lifetime of memories to get this place on the market.   But some houses don’t want to be sold, and their home has other plans for both of them…

Books of Blood, Vol. 1 by Clive Barker

In this tour de force collection of brilliantly disturbing tales, Clive Barker combines the extraordinary with the ordinary, bringing to life our darkest nightmares with stories that both seduce and devour. As beautiful as they are terrible, the pages of this volume are stained with unsettling imagery, macabre humor, and visceral dread. Here then are the stories written on the Book of Blood. Read, if it pleases you, and learn....

[ladyswillmart]

🌿 🤍 💌 pls

🌿 How does creating make me feel? I guess it kind of depends on what I've created and how well I think I did at it. Sometimes it feels quite satisfying, like scratching an itch. Sometimes... not so much, like the itch is in a weird place and I'm scratching but I can't quite get to it. In any case I've been trying to nurture a more positive approach to writing so any itch left unscratched, I look at it as a chance to learn something about myself and what works (or doesn't work).

🤍 I had to really think about this one! Alas, after so much cogitation I can't really think of anything in recent memory that I recall anyone not really getting or understanding. Now I have, in the past, had stories that didn't go over very well in workshops but this is a horse of a different color IMO... This question might apply better to maybe some of my older fanfics but again, I'd have to really sit and think about it!

💌 Something exciting from a WIP! Actually right now I am working on my next Portal short story. It's the companion piece to "Thoughtful Design" (the one where Doug Rattmann tries to explain to Wheatley that NO he can't just slap a giant arm on his chassis and expect it to work in any meaningful way); THIS fic is called "It's Up To You" and it'll mark the first time I've written Grady (from Aperture Desk Job). I hope I do him justice!