#i did a sad so i owe Po a good

[daonedaonlyskh]

sk wisdom saga thoughts

SPOILER WARNING FOR THE WISDOM SAGA

also these will not be coherent hardly at all btw

and why should you read this? bc I wanna hear your opinions too :)

also trigger warning for love in paradise, I briefly touch on suicide but it’s only a sentence or two

and this is significantly longer than I thought it was gonna be whoopsie

legendary - HOLYYYYYY SHITTTTTTT YES MICO GIVE US EVERYTHING RIGHT OFF THE BAT YESSSSSSSSSSSS I feel like I resonate with the song a lot about wanting to be better and living up to a certain standard and being willing to do just about anything to get there and not letting the world get ya down yk? ALSO WHATCHA GONNA DO ABOUT IT CHAMP? TOTALLY LIVED UP TO EXPECTATIONS JORGE WAS RIGHT THAT LINE WAS INCREDIBLE

little wolf - OKAY THE VIDEO GAME STYLE THINGY ANIMATIC ON THE STREAM?????? HOLY FUCK THAT WAS SO COOL!!!!!!!!!! When Antinous said “I’ll teach you all the lessons your daddy never could” ow. sir that hurt. But so glad we finally got a canon explanation of “quick thought” even if it came kinda late in the show. And Athena’s little “oooo guess I pushed him to hard” is so adorable to me and I can’t explain why. Same with the deadpan of “uppercut him. Now.” But I think the decision to keep the little question Tele asks at the end of the song in the song and not just have it all be in “we’ll be fine” is a little weird to me but idrc all that much. Overall I absolutely loved this song, the switch up from the negative of antinous absolutely destroying Tele, to the positive side where Athena is helping Tele is incredible.

we’ll be fine - I’m gonna be real this is my least favorite of all the songs. Not that I don’t like it or anything, it’s great, to me it just doesn’t compare to any of the others. I like that Athena and Tele get to have a real conversation, and the Odysseus references without Telemachus actually knowing who she’s talking about is really cool. And I like the parallel of “if I’ll never sleep at night” to “I could sleep at night.” But the part where Athena says “you’re a good kid” makes me wanna cry /pos.

love in paradise - CALYPSO WHEN I CATCH YOU CALYPSO!!!!!!!!!! I liked the time dive bit, I found that cool. Also the stream dying as soon as calypso saying that goddesses can’t die was absolutely fucking hilarious, so glad I was there for that. BUT THE END BIT HOLY FUCKING SHIT THE END OF THAT SONG UGHHGGGGGGGGAGAHSHDHSIAKSKDKDHSH. First of all, underworld saga drawback, second of all ody basically trying to kill himself or seriously injure himself was extremely unexpected to me when I first saw it, but now looking back that did not come out of nowhere at all, it just caught me off guard, third of all CALYPSO SAYING OPEN ARMS? GURL WHEN I CATCH YOU I SWEAR, fourth of all having polites in my left ear and having eurylochus in my right ear actually makes me physically hurt, fifth of all him screaming “Athena” at the end is so sad, calling out for the only possible person who you think would or could help you, even if you’ve been long out of their life, and left on bad terms? Absolutely heartbreaking, sixth of all the little “he needs my help” at the end of the song got me good. Also I listened to this song for the second time ever today as of typing this and I fucking cried, I didn’t cry when I heard it on stream since I think I was just too distraught over it, and was overall just extremely happy.

god games - I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY. YOU THOUGHT THE PREVIOUS BLURB YOU JUST READ WAS LONG? HA! Alrighty so in the beginning part, I like how Luke Holt says all the gods names in a different way, and they all feel like they make sense for the character. Moving on to the levels, I really like Apollo’s voice, idk who that is but whoever you are I love your voice. After figuring out that it was confirmed that the cows were Helios’s, I was extremely confused as to what Apollo’s argument would be, but was pleasantly surprised by the sirens, which wasn’t something I even thought about. Having Hephaestus be voiced by Jay’s dad is so cool, and now both of Jay’s parents are in epic and I just find that so sweet. His dad definitely gives Hephaestus vibes, and I think he sounds great, and I don’t really have any strong feelings on his argument. Moving in to Ares and Aphrodite, I already knew I was going to love them, and I still do! I’m gonna be honest, I actually really love Ares’s part lmao. His lyrics get stuck in my head really bad sometimes, and I love the rhythm of his part. I also think Athena basically just beating the shit out or just straight up judo flipping him in most of the animatics is really funny. Going on to Hera, the anniflamma animatic that played during the live stream was so, so silly. not Hera and Athena full on just having a fucking dance off. And yk what, it slays. Now last but most certainly not least, everything after that. 1st of all, beast mode Zeus is absolutely terrifying, just as it should be. Luke holt you’re absolutely incredible at your craft. 2nd, I was not expecting him to just like straight up blast Athena to fucking bits. 3rd, Ares you could at least try to make your “is she dead?” Sound at least a little bit sincere my guy, but that’s so silly goofy of you so I’ll let it slide. 4th, the little flashback scene with the soft instrumental warrior of the mind in the background makes me wanna cry /pos. 5th, when the instrumental picks up after the flashback, and Athena starts to push against Zeus’s lightning, getting severely hurt in the process? Absolute perfection, only criticism is that I wish she bled golden ichor in the animatic showed on stream but other than that minor thing I think it was absolutely perfect. 6th, the “let him go, please, let him go” with Athena basically just dying afterwards at the foot of Zeus? Peak emotional damage to my soul. The reach out of Athena to Zeus when she’s already been forced to the ground as she sings “let him go” as she looks up at him did something to me.

This saga aches in my soul. I wouldn’t want it any other way

I would also like to say that I am a singer, who is the kid of a very successful musician (my dad is a uni professor of music and still plays music at restaurants on the stuff on the side. his best friends know extremely famous musicians, and I know a few semi famous musicians too :3). And I feel like I can see epic from so many perspectives because of things, obviously because of this I have such a great appreciation for the music, but especially the vocals. I am also an okay writer, which gives me a deeper appreciation for the story telling aspects. And I’m a visual artist, so the animations and animatics that come out of epic are such an inspiration to me. All of epic is, everything that comes out of it inspires me, the music, the storytelling , the art, all of it. (but especially the music, since given what I said I think you could probably tell how important music as a whole is to me)

[beardedmrbean]

Oh yes the hoteps, how the fuck they got together? And why their main base is in Chicago?! Is there a certain kool aid I don’t know about

Also about my ancestry, the thing is I may visit Nigeria if a close friend from they want to come or like for research.

I mean in my black oriented stories, I was slams a hammer so hard in the audience head pointing out the black Americans would see the native Africans as foreigners

Also make passive aggressive comments on the Dahomey.

Actually…I wonder if I could like every talk to a African and expose how bad our education system is telling the us the whole story about the Africa slave kingdoms

I imagine they would have downright shocked that black Americans of all people never learn about the Dahomey until the first women king trailer

Like to me, sorry not taking away the Jewish people struggles, just showing how bad my community knowledge is to our ancestry. Is like a Jewish person never taught what Emperor Hadrian did to ancient Israel.

Then how just about how people like you reveal we did the genetic history of black Americans ancestors with enslaved ancestry and parts we’re from

Why isn’t taught, a huge identity crisis among my community id that we were taught that our pre American ancestors were only slaves.

Of course we aren’t part of those tribes but give us better state of mind…ish

But one thing

Me: So you bitch about the war on drugs and militarization of police the elites did?

Black activists: yep

Me: Had it ever occurred to you that we are taughted a sanitized version of the African slave trade all the way to college while we get hit with the native atrocities and Japanese interment camps stuff in middle school. And how antagonistic we are on average towards African immigrants because we act like toddlers?

BA: nope

Good why am I doing research about our main ancestors more than you

Oh yeah the root thing

https://x.com/copicsquiddo/status/1392364456127221761?s=46

You know with the whole decolonization talks, I notice that the left intentionally leave out black Americans because at the end of the day we are the irreversible result of colonization…unless the left have this dumbass option that modern Yoruba culture is the same as my ancestors were part of-oh my god

So yeah we’re rootless, to where we only have middle upper class people povs of Africa until the 60’s

Also this idea that black people cant cruel as our white slave owners? Oh yeah that never-

*Phone call from the afterlife*

Hello? Oh it Maya Angelou, pointing out that she was RAPED by her mom’s boyfriend as a child and why she was muted for a few years. OW! Oh it Micheal Jackson hitting that high note point out how much of a pos his father was to him and his siblings

Remember that Jackson 5 mini series where they point out the dad was abusive as hell

Got a feel mj and the others did “uncredited” consultants on that series

I heard that mj dad didn’t even GRIEVE or act sad his fucking son was dead. My god, actually I was checking Paris Jackson, she was on an Amazon show called the Swarm where she said her was culturally black. Swarm centered around a serial killer obsessed with a beyonce stand in.

So have the daughter of a man who finger twitch at concert made people faint. Is a good reference

But I read up that MJ mom tried to funraise a documentary after her son death…holy fuck is the MJ we know is a least terrible result of the household he was in?

Um oh yeah, *phone rings* oh Tyler Perry, orphan (wait she was and tp were basically Judas for their higher ups), children of the welfare queens and abusive inner cities parents pointing out the hell they went through

Okay I’m talking about child abuse, but I notice when white, Asian, and Latinos point out their parents and elders shitty actions they are supported

But when black Americans points out that a lot of our parents beat us harder than overseers did to other field ancestors. We need to treat them with kids gloves

Of course not all and we do point out this shit. We need to treat these abusive tactics with kids gloves

“Slavery, racism, and systematic oppression is why!”

Hmmm, why I don’t see Mexicans, Indians, Argentinians, Chinese, Vietnamese, Native Americans, giving their elders who often went through hell too. The same execuses?

Oh yes the hoteps, how the fuck they got together? And why their main base is in Chicago?! Is there a certain kool aid I don’t know about

Splinter from nation of islam, or something like that is my guess. Nailed it

I mean in my black oriented stories, I was slams a hammer so hard in the audience head pointing out the black Americans would see the native Africans as foreigners Also make passive aggressive comments on the Dahomey.

To them here they would be, just like the other way around would work the same, and far more than passive aggressive, but they earned it.

Prev bit and Like to me, sorry not taking away the Jewish people struggles, just showing how bad my community knowledge is to our ancestry. Is like a Jewish person never taught what Emperor Hadrian did to ancient Israel.

I wonder where "ancient" stops applying, that one happened well after Jesus

an·cient ADJECTIVE

belonging to the very distant past and no longer in existence: "the ancient civilizations of the Mediterranean"

Suppose that works, nice and vague too. Granted that one doesn't turn up in Christianity so it's not too well known outside of Jewish circles, but they do their own schooling too, pretty much no matter where they are they have 'Jewish School' identity is important to them and all their holy days are confusing to a outsider.

There's a handy chart for us gentiles

Admittedly black Americans were not given the chance to do the same, there was "africatown" technically Plateau, Alabama where former slaves that still remembered home could go to escape Americans, not just white people.

Prev bit+ Of course we aren’t part of those tribes but give us better state of mind…ish

Absolutly be good to learn, sadly the nature of how so many got here y'all are likely to be in the same boat as so many of the rest of us are there, we're all mutts, I'm a european one they'd be african. Might explain some of the pan african stuff honestly, with DNA tests now you can pinpoint though just make sure the company isn't one that will sell your info to the cops or anyone else.

Me: So you bitch about the war on drugs and militarization of police the elites did? Black activists: yep Cont:

It's gonna start sinking in soon enough I think, the information is there and people know where to look now so there will be some folks that are not in the mood to be berated anymore that will begin the education process.

My guess at least.

This sounds familiar, can't just blame white people for that tho, also lots of the kingdoms and what not that did the selling and being sold don't exist anymore, makes it even harder.

Prev and I heard that mj dad didn’t even GRIEVE or act sad his fucking son was dead. My god, actually I was checking Paris Jackson, she was on an Amazon show called the Swarm where she said her was culturally black. Swarm centered around a serial killer obsessed with a beyonce stand in.

joe jackson that was bad ya, same with mya angelou, Tina Turner, and several other people through history, folks need to give up on the race dynamic parts of abuse and just focus on how to help people heal,

Blaming the actual abuser instead of some nebulous concept would be good too. Nice to give the bad guy a name, even if it's Joseph.

Okay I’m talking about child abuse, but I notice when white, Asian, and Latinos point out their parents and elders shitty actions they are supported But when black Americans points out that a lot of our parents beat us harder than overseers did to other field ancestors. We need to treat them with kids gloves

Overseers knew better than to beat the tractor with a baseball bat, one of those things that changed with slavery being abolished is working conditions could actually get worse.

Coal miner talking about the boss telling him to be sure and get the mule out if there's a cave in,

'what about me and the men boss'

'I can hire more men, gotta buy the mule'

“Slavery, racism, and systematic oppression is why!” Hmmm, why I don’t see Mexicans, Indians, Argentinians, Chinese, Vietnamese, Native Americans, giving their elders who often went through hell too. The same execuses?

there's a reason it changed to bipoc from just poc while the lgbt alphabet soup keeps getting longer and more inclusive.

[an-indecisive-mess]

Aria x Hermes Incorrect Quotes

Hermes: *seductively takes off glasses*

Hermes: Wow...

Aria: *blushes* Haha... what?

Hermes: You’re… really blurry

Aria: I owe you one.

Hermes: That’s ok. You can just date me and we’ll call it even

(*Source: Lilo and Stitch)

Aria: I still have no idea how I’m attracted to you...

Hermes: Yeah, well, you’re stuck with me, and no take backs, honey.

Aria: Valentine’s day is just a consumerist holiday that holds no real value other than drive people insane buying heart shaped chocolates for their significant others and pos-

Hermes: I wrote you a poem.

Aria, already crying: You did?

Aria: The stars are so beautiful...

Hermes: They're just giant balls of gas.

Aria: You know what, if you're just going to ruin this, then-

Hermes: And yet none of them are as huge as my love for you.

Aria: Oh...

Hermes: I think I just figured something out. I got to go.

Aria: Aren't you forgetting something?

Hermes: Uuh...*hesitantly kisses Aria's forehead before running out.*

Aria: No, pay your bill! Geez, who raised you?

(*Source: Brooklyn 99)

Pain: You love this woman (Aira), don’t you?

Hermes: Yes..

Panic: You wanna hold her?

Hermes: Yes.

Pain: Please her?

Hermes: Yes!

Pain and Panic: 🎶Then you’ve got-ta got-ta try a little tenderness!🎶

Pain: The chicks LOVE that romantic crap!

(*Source: Shrek)

Hades: Why are Aria and Hermes sitting with their backs to each other?

Pain: They had a fight.

Hades: Then why are they holding hands?

Panic: They get sad when they fight.

Aria: Don't I get a kiss for luck? It's kind of a tradition, right?

Hermes: Come back alive, Aria. Then we'll see.

(*Source: Percy Jackson)

*Aria and Hermes are doing something absurdly dangerous*

Aria: I think Houdini did this once! Why, if I remember right, he was out of the hospital in no time!

Hermes, deadpan: Well that's encouraging.

(*Source: Brave Little Toaster)

Hermes: I'm dating your daughter.

Hades: And?

Hermes: I thought that you would be more surprised.

Hades: Oh, I'm sorry.

Hades, surprised: And?!

Aria: We have to find my darling Hermes. I’m so worried about him.

Hades: Seriously. What do you see in that guy?

Aria: He makes me laugh.

(*Source: Who Framed Roger Rabbit)

Aria, at Hermes: Would you like to stay for dinner?

Sirena, from the kitchen: Would you like to stay forever!?!

(*Source: Mulan)

Aria: You often use humor to deflect trauma.

Hermes: Thank you.

Aria: I didn't say that was a good thing.

Hermes: What I'm hearing is, you think I'm funny.

Hercules: I’ve never asked someone out. How do you even do it?

Hermes: Oh, what I do is, I look them up and down and I say: “Hey… how you doin’?”

Aria, scoffing: Oh, please.

Hermes, to Aria: Hey, how you doin’?

Aria: *giggles and blushes*

(*Source: Friends)

Aria: I truly go into housewife mode when I'm someone's soulmate- like, I'll make you pancakes and bacon every morning.

Hermes: This is a lie.

Hermes: I'm literally dating her. This is a lie.

Hermes: SHE DOESN’T EVEN KNOW HOW TO COOK A PANCAKE, WHAT IS THIS?

Aria, trying to cheer the group up: Things could be worse, you know!

Hermes: How?

Aria: How what?

Hermes: How could they be worse?

Aria: They couldn’t, I lied.

Hermes: …

(*Source: Brave Little Toaster)

Panic: Ooh, somebody has a crush

Aria: Pfft, I don’t have a crush on Hermes. I just think he’s cool, it’s not like I stay up at night thinking about him.

*Later that night*

Aria, very much awake: Uh oh.

(*Source: Gravity Falls)

[crazybigredlove]

6th August 2013

Dear Pete, 

Going to contact Interpol and report you as a missing person so that some Good Samaritan in a faraway land will let me know whether you're still alive or not. Not entirely sure if that's how it works or whether it should be someone with a slightly higher social standing than myself, but I'm going to give it a crack. Christopher is in the habit of appearing in my bedroom doorway each night to tell me his latest thought about where in the world you might be. Spoiler: Mostly it involves a lot of alcohol and scantily-clad women with liberal views on sex. We both agree that the most likely scenario is that you're in Italy and lying low with your cousin. The only flaw in that is that with your family being the way they are, I fail to see how you and Sofia could've kept it from your aunts or your mother. Remembering her wily ways from our younger days of everyone I know she'd be the one I'd back to pull it off, but even she's not that good. Is she? 

Slight change today though as Christopher he announced that you're on the run from some crazy types that you owe a fortune to. Asked why they wouldn't have been round the house looking for you or at least looking for information regarding your whereabouts. That silenced him for a while. Your brother is still as good looking as ever, but as your disappearance stretches out there is sadness in his eyes that I haven't seen before. He even approaches the weekends with less enthusiasm. I did tell him it's only been five weeks and he needs to man-up, but that probably didn't really help. If I didn't know better I'd think he had separation anxiety like when pets are separated from their owners. I mean, it's not like he's been crying himself to sleep at night (that I know of) but the two blondes messaged him tonight for a repeat performance of the show I briefly witnessed yesterday and he didn't even reply to them. Don't worry, I'll find a subtle way to check if he has a fever and if necessary seek medical opinion. 

Sorry if my tone of late has been a tad morose. Sad as I am about the Big Red situation, mostly it's sadness related to why it bothered me so much. Photo came through this morning while I was at work of him with a coffee in his hand and surrounded by friends. Asked him if he'd like to call in to to say hello or I could duck out for a coffee. Apparently he was too busy. He did call though and we had another funny chat on the phone. As much as I laugh when he's around the second he's gone it's all staring at the phone, anxiety, and alternating between binge-eating and feeling nauseous. 

Shouldn't be upset, I mean, I wrote the list at the start because I could see that this was a very real potential outcome from a guy like him, so how come I can't walk away? Is there some weird competition/challenge/must-win-this thing going on here on a subconscious level? Am I using Hollywood movies to justify hanging in there longer so I can prove some strange point to myself that I'm not even aware of yet? 

The Czech has already messaged today to thank me for last night, but the guy I'm dating really isn't fussed one way or another. Big Red has promised that we will spend the whole weekend together, so am probably being a total prima-donna for no reason. "Relax, little Liv," I can hear you say. Have managed to mostly hide all fifty shades of my crazy from him. If this doesn't work out (and it's certainly looking like it's headed in that direction) then it might be in everyone's best interest if I take a break for a while. If you're so desperate for me to do online dating then you should have to experience its pain yourself. 

Do you think that you can know in the briefest of moments? I realise this is a silly question as obviously I don't feel that way about him, but if you can know in the briefest of moments that you could care about someone, but then they don't care about you in return, how the fuck are you meant to be able to pick the ones you should care about? How do you possibly tell one from the other?? Do you know what I mean? Hollywood tells women that men change, that they come back, that if they treat us bad we need to hang in there until they get their shit together. If that's the case there are a LOT of men who are going to be making reappearances in my future. And can you also really tell in a moment that someone will hurt you as I predicted? Or is it more of a self-fulfilling prophecy on both counts? 

Oh God. I'm having emotions. Real ones. Lots of them. Am not okay with this, not even a little bit. Oh no. How do I make it stop? 

This is not okay. I have no desire to be a pathetic damsel in distress obsessed with a man after only one week. While something special could have been born of this (you know, if you squint your eyes the right way, tilt your head to the side, and then smack yourself with a hammer), clearly we already broke it because the fun has vanished. Love doesn't feel like this. 

It's okay. Without being dramatic I know what's happening, so I'm going to own it. I've been here before. He's met someone else. 

If I don't ever hear from Big Red again it won't matter because I am going to put all my time and energy into something else. Like becoming CrossFit world champion. Or, is there a cupcake eating world record? I'm also prepared to take a shot at that title. 

Either way, I'm sure the world will keep turning if I can just calm my brain and anxiety a little... If you have any suggestions on how I might be able to do that, now would be an excellent time to let me know. 

Liv x 

[kikedike]

thoughts i wrote down during the first ep of squid game—no spoilers pls!!

:readmore:

i don’t totally understand this game

gd this guy is a pos

what happened to a bday gift for your daughter???

i hate this guy hope he gets eaten by a squid or whatever

ok i’m glad he got some money tho he can get his daughter a gift and some fried chicken

ohhhhhh no he definitely owes these guys

lmaoooo did that kid steal his cash??

eeewwww

he’s asking for MORE?? well it’s ballsy

bro that’s like 8 dollars he down bad

uugghh this is making me so sad

ok at least he got her something

oh she has a mom in the picture phew

i thought he had a kid relying on him to eat

don’t play man u don’t have 100,000 to give

your body 👀

100,000 for a slap, that’s a good deal

oof this guy is good tho

dude cut ur losses and stop playing

ooh he won

don’t you want your money man???

bruh he was gonna give up like $80 to slap that guy

oh his daughters moving away

this guy is a loser fr

ya call that number

holy shit they gassin him

whoa lotta contestants

is that the kid who took his money

she is so pretty oh my gosh

lmaoooo he is such a little bitch

aaahhh among us characters

i feel like the consequences for losing might be worse than a slap this time

“games may be terminated if the majority agrees”? so if everyone wants to stop they can (i don’t think that’ll happen tho, then no one gets the money)

oooh creepy black mask

oh he knows this guy

oh i like this game :)

HOLY FUCK IS HE DEAD

dude moving ur mouth counts

y’all stop running

ok i hope it would be a little more creative then just shooting them

a lot eliminated early on

lmaooo old guys truckin

get up man

is it a song in korea? in the us the person just says green light

this guy is really into dolls

do you have to win every game to get any money?

i’m literally obsessed w her face she’s so gorgeous

oh more than one person can win? that makes more sense

omg he saved him

you owe this guy

wow the first game really thinned the herd

wonder how the food is gonna be here

whew i’m hooked

[oldadastra]

Letter to Lucasfilm

So, I’ve written a letter to Lucasfilm. It could be better, but this is what came out this afternoon. I hope others who are writing will share what they are putting into the mail. I was trying to be concise, but it still ran to several pages. Find it in its entirety below the cut:

***

Lucasfilm, Ltd. Attn: Fan Mail PO Box 29901 San Francisco, CA 94129-0901

December 30, 2019

Lucasfilm/Disney:

I am writing to express my anger, shock, disappointment and deep sadness with the final installment of the Star Wars saga, Episode IX: The Rise of Skywalker.

I was ten in 1977 when the original film was released and have loved Star Wars ever since. I was thrilled by the reopening of the saga in The Force Awakens, and delighted by the excellent script, rich visual storytelling, nuanced character development, and thematic direction of Rian Johnson’s The Last Jedi.

Disney took on a sacred trust when it acquired Lucasfilm. Star Wars is deeply important to many people, and if you couldn’t do justice to the characters and themes of the saga, I’d argue that you had no business being involved in these stories. There is so much Disney/Lucasfilm got wrong in Rise of Skywalker, I’m struggling to gather my thoughts or express them coherently, but here goes:

Ben Solo. You created the most compelling character in the new trilogy by destroying the happy ending of the original trilogy. I was willing to go along on the ride Abrams and Kasdan began in The Force Awakens, because the fate of Ben Solo felt like it mattered. The questions raised in the new films: the nature of good and evil, the degree to which one’s family legacy defines a person, whether a one can atone for past sins; all of it felt alive and urgent in the person of Ben, a character I loved like one of my own children from the moment we so traumatically met him in The Force Awakens. His story was the beating heart of the new trilogy. His story is the one that mattered. His life was the one to be saved.

Ben solo was never an exposition device, cool villain, or disposable baddie to me. He was Han and Leia’s only child; loved, targeted, broken, lost.

The Rise of Skywalker redeems Ben Solo in the final act of the film, only to destroy him. Was it always your plan to kill the last Skywalker in the final installment of this story, to render the overarching message of all nine films as tragedy? If so, I wish I’d known this was your intent; I would never have engaged with these stories and made an emotional investment in them. If tragedy was your goal, that was certainly your choice to make, but I’d argue that you owed it to the audience and the cast to do a better job of it.

For example: You give us evidence that Han and Leia’s child was targeted by evil old men from before his birth. It’s a disturbingly explicit allegory of grooming and child abuse.

You give Ben Solo a backstory which implies he is guilty of vile, Anakin-style crimes against other young people, coding him as a school shooter, and then chose to exonerate him of this crime in a comic book, where the general audience will never know he was innocent. It’s a form of character assassination.

You consigned Ben Solo to the darkness for almost the entirety of three films, then denied him his voice in the final acts of his own story. “Ow?” The only words the redeemed Ben Solo will ever speak. Apalling.

You brought back Palpatine for this film (arguably rendering the message of the first six films meaningless), identified the Emperor as Ben’s tormentor all along, then denied Ben the opportunity to fight his enemy in the final act of the film.  Rise of Skywalker literally throws Ben Solo into a pit, and forces him to climb out alone and unaided while Rey is whispered to by “all the jedi,” offering her words of encouragement. It’s grotesque.

I’m getting lost in rage and sadness again here, so let me just say that even if you inexplicably didn’t care about the last Skywalker in the Skywalker saga, you have done a grave disservice to Adam Driver in your treatment of his character in this these films.  Perhaps you’ve heard of Driver’s non-profit organization, Arts in the Armed Forces? He’s deeply committed to the importance of stories as a way to make meaning out of the inexpressible. Did he really sign on to this project thinking that the final message of his character would be to say that even if you are able to come back from the darkness, your final act must be to die? That imperfect children don’t deserve compassion, forgiveness, life? You owe Mr. Driver an apology, but you can never really atone for what you’ve done to him.  

You ended a nine-film, forty-two year saga with all the Skywalkers dead, and a Palpatine the last one standing. You spent three films tormenting Han and Leia’s child, only to kill him in the final act.  What you did to Ben Solo (and frankly to us, who loved him) feels more like a horror story than anything else. In my dreams, I walk right into your offices and flip over tables.

There’s a lot more I could accuse Rise of Skywalker of bungling, but I assume you are hearing this feedback from others besides me, so I will summarize:

Rey Palpatine. Was is all about the midiclorians after all? By making her Palpatine’s granddaughter, you deny Rey everything that made her special; you deny her agency, and you negate the beautiful message I thought you were trying to communicate in the first two films with Rey Nobody: that the force belongs to us all, and that anyone can be a hero

The erasure of Rose Tico. It’s difficult to interpret this as anything but a capitulation to a loud, racist, and misogynist element of the fandom. It’s a very bad look, Disney. Please pay attention to the message you are sending.

Character development in general and a truly horrible ending: Rey goes back into her child-like costume, Ben Solo spent much of the film forced back into his stupid mask. Ben disappears at the end with no one to mourn him. Rey ends the film alone in a desert wasteland.

Rise of Skywalker is the most bleak, hopeless, and depressing Star Wars film ever made. As days go by, it’s becoming clear that it was also poorly written and edited. These stories matter to us, and we pay close attention to them. Disrespect us at your peril.

I don’t expect anyone will ever read this missive, or care at all about what an old shepherd on a mountainside thought about the execution of your multi-billion dollar movies. This is a personal exercise in catharsis as much as anything.

But here are a few notes in a language you might understand. I made some quick calculations about how much money I’ve spent on Star Wars over the past four years, and I’m sharing that with you now.

Movie tickets:  I’m one of those people who sees movies I love more than once (I saw Empire Strikes Back eighty-one times in the theater!). I saw The Force Awakens and The Last Jedi at least ten times each. I’m not counting the cost of tickets for my extended family, whom I brought along to a number of screenings, or tickets for birthday party guests we treated to these movies. My teenaged daughter came along for all the screenings I am including, so I calculate I spent about $360 on tickets. We also bought tickets to Rogue One and Solo, so it was actually more, but you get the idea.

Books, tie-ins, DVDs, merchandise: I invested in The Art of the Force Awakens and The Art of the Last Jedi books, as well as at least one SW Visual Dictionary. I bought DVDs of the films of course, and CDs of John Williams’ beautiful scores. I bought and read a number of books; Boodline and the Leia novel, The Force Awakens novelization and Junior novelization, Aftermath, and a couple others whose titles escape me. At least seven action figures. Toy light sabers for me and my daughter. Posters. T Shirts. I know I’m not remembering everything, but it adds up to an expenditure of at least $347 in books and other Star Wars merchandise.

Star Wars Celebration: I splurged on passes for my daughter and I to attend Star Wars Celebration in Chicago this past spring. It cost me about $400, and a last-minute family emergency meant we were unable to attend, but the tickets were non-refundable, so it was money I spent on Star Wars nonetheless.

Total: $1,107

A laughably small amount to you guys, I’m sure. Perhaps a contrast is useful:

Total amount I have spent (tickets for my daughter and I on opening night) on Rise of Skywalker: $22.

Total amount I plan to spend on Disney Lucasfilm merchandise in the future: $0

I invested quite a lot of my time in Star Wars over the past four years. I’ve written thousands of words in essays, appreciations and analyses (mostly on Tumblr), where I amassed a modest following of just over a thousand people. I’m sure I occasionally bored my friends and family by going on and on about Star Wars. This kind of ‘work’ has no dollar value of course. I will say that it was great fun while it lasted, though I feel foolish in retrospect, remembering all the times I came to your defense, arguing that the saga was in good hands, that you had a plan; that you were going to tell a good story.

Sadly, I don’t think you can fix the damage you’ve done to the Galaxy Far Far Away with The Rise of Skywalker. You made this film, made your choices, and put it out into the world. I have no control over where you go from here, but as a person who has loved Star Wars since I was a child, I beg you to take some time to reflect before making another Star Wars film.

You’ve broken so many hearts. Mine was one.

Andrea ____

...my full name and address, blah blah, I live in Vermont

[arthemis-forge]

Chapter 3 Body and Soul (Crimson)

Warnings: None (future nsfw)

A/N: Hello guys! Sorry for the delay, what happens is that I was a little busy with some personal things but I'm back.

I will try to update twice a week and each time as we progress through the story, make the chapters longer. Another thing is I didn't notice that the previous chapter i published the draft instead of the final version. Which had many otorgraphic and writing errors. But it's already corrected. If you find something let me know so I can fix it. Also I am very happy for all the support, thank you for your lovely comments. Another thing, Do you want me to create a tag list?. Please tell me in the comments. That's all I wanted to say. Enjoy your reading! 🖤

Chapter 3(Crimson)

Lost in my thoughts, I walked towards the exit of the building while i was looking at the sky with some concern. It wouldn't be long before the sun rise.

And honestly, I was very scared. I did'nt know anyone in this city and didn't know what time it was in the area. My life was in danger and although I was sure that I still had time based on what the sky looked like.

I was still very worried about not knowing what time it was exactly. Looking at my watch was in vain. It was scheduled for London time not New York.

I was very nervous but I had to calm down. So i calculated that there were 2 hours left until the sun rise. And although it sounds like it's a lot of time, I don't know how much traffic there is in this city. And I needed to be in the nearest hotel as soon as posible.

Again I was so lost in my thoughts that I did not notice that a taxi parked in front of me, it was not until I heard the drivers voice that I noticed it.

—Good night miss, are you waiting for someone else? Or do you need me to take you somewhere? —

Hearing that question made me feel more relaxed again.

—Sure, I actually have nowhere to go. Could you recommend a hotel near here. One with good facilities. The price point doesn’t matter but I really need to get a good place to relax, preferably the closest hotel to the airport.—

I told him as I opened the door and carried my suitcase.

—Of course ma'am, in fact we are close to many good hotels. They are a few streets away. Would you like me to take you to see the exteriors and based on how they look you choose one?. I assure you that they are all very good, some more than others but none are bad. —

The man smiled while he waited for my answer.

I sighed feeling realised.

—Yes please, I would like it very much. —

The man laughed as he drived the car.

—You are not from here are you? I can tell by your accent. —

I nodded as i looked out the window. Analyzing the area I was in.

—That's right, I'm from London. I was transferred from my job. —

—That's so interesting. Sounds like fun to have a job where you travel a lot. —

—Well yeah you're not wrong. But I also needed to start a new life. —

I confessed while we entered to a large avenue with many buildings with hotels and apartments. Some were prettier than others.But nothing look bad about them.

—Is one of you liking? Or do you want me to go further so you can see more options?. —

The truth is that I could already choose one of the many hotels that were on the street. And I couldn't be so demanding, since i needed a safe place away from natural light as soon as possible. But a hunch told me to accept the man's proposal.

—Sure, I think we can see a few more options.—

No matter how much the car moved forward, nothing interested me. It wasn't until we reached the corner of the avenue that a large black building with Victorian architecture caught my attention. On the outside it had an ad with red calligraphy that said "Crimson".

—Stop here, I like this one. —

I pointed to the old building.

—I’m sorry to tell you this, but that hotel is very strict. They do not allow the entry to anyone who doesn't have a membership. It has already happened several times that I leave people here and they end up removing them from the place.—

—Don't worry I will try to enter. If i can´t then I’ll choose one of the hotels that are on this street. How much do I owe you? —

—If you insists, it’s $30 dollars.—

I nodded as I handed over his money.

—Thank you very much, also keep the change. —

I took my suitcase and closed the car's door as I approached the entrance of the building. However I was stopped at the door by a very tall man with brown hair and grey eyes.

— Good night, Miss. Could you give me your membership please. —

Embarrassed, I bit my lower lip and then proceeded to do something I didn't wanted.

—You're going to let me in no matter the rules of the place or what your bosses say. —

I smiled already knowing the results of my action. The man nodded and then open the door for me.

Once inside I noticed that a tall girl with black hair and violet eyes smiled at me as she applauded me.

—That was so wesome, Alice. Just as I expected, James didn't cause you any trouble. —

The girl approached very excited.

—Who are you and why do you know my name?—

I asked very confused and feeling insecure. Since she was aware of what I had just done and the worst thing was that she knew my name. This was getting very strange and I was not liking it.

—I am Grace Crimson. Owner of the hotel and great friend of your Boss Nat. —

—Do you know Nat? —

I said in a very incredulous voice.

—Of course Alice. But hey that is the least important thing right now, let me show you your room and I give you Nats phone number so you can call her.—

While I was trying to process the information, one of the attendants took my suitcase.

—Did Nat tell you in any way that I will come here? —

She just laughed at my question.

— I knew you'd say that. Don't be silly, honey. You are acting like a newborn vampire in the clan. Look dear, I'll explain. I can see the future. Today I had a vision of you in which I saw you giving orders to my guard right outside my hotel. It should be noted that I was concerned, because I didn't knew who you were, so I called all the offices until I found some information about you. To at least make sure that you weren't dangerous to us and to be able to take the necessary measures. By the way, I don't want you to feel bad about what I told you. But these are difficult times and we must take care of each other. —

Of course she was right, what a fool I was. I have been so involved in my personal feelings and problems that I overlook the fact that many in our community have that ability.

—Don't worry, it's okay Grace. I understand. I know how the security protocol works. And I also understand perfectly that you investigated me and that you needed to know who I was. —

I confessed.

—I already knew you were going to say that tho. Hey you are more friendly and understanding than I expected from someone who can control people's minds with their voice. No ofence but your kind is usually a very pretentious. —

I couldn't help laughing at that comment.

—I was like that many years ago, but someone changed me. I try not to abuse my powers too much, only when it’s necessary. —

I lowered my gaze to caress a silver ring with a red diamond that I had on my ring finger.

When she saw how my mood changed, she immediately hug me.

—Don't torment yourself over the past. —

She took me by the hand to walk me through those long corridors of the building. I must admit that I felt a little emotional. The place reminded me a lot of my grandmother's house.

—Here is your room, as you can see it is very spacious, it has a king size bed, living room, bathroom with a bathtub and a beautiful balcony. Also here is Nat's phone number. And don't forget to close all the curtains including the ones on the bed. —

She handed me the keys, a red card and a pos it with Nat’s new number.

—James leave the suitcase on her bed. —

The man obeyed her order and put the suitcase on my bed.

—Sure Grace. Thank you very much for all the hospitality. It has been a long time since I felt welcomed in a place. —

She smiled

—I know we are going to be very good friends. —

After that she closed the door behind me.

It's amazing how someone's life could change in an instant.

One day you are in London crying for your ex and the next day you are in New York and you're dreaming with a man who doesn’t even exist.

Thinking about that, I began to close all the curtains in the room and then i took the phone from the bureau next to the bed.

With some fear I called her, I knew that she would be very upset with me. But i had to do it.

—Hey nat it's me, Alice. —

—You are an idiot, I was so worried! Never do that to me ever again! I thought you wanted to kill yourself or something like that...

You sounded so sad. God you have take some therapy you can't continue living like this...—

I sigh very annoyed.

— Anyway, I already spoke with Bruce and he already gave you permission to work in New York. And before I forget to tell you this. Tomorrow you have a job to do. I need you in a bar, we think we found someone who can serve us for the clan. You will have to go to a concert near a local bar in the town. Grace will leave you the papers with the man's information.—

—Perfect. By the way, thank you very much for the favor. You don't know how grateful I am with you. Anyways, I will leave you, I am very tired and I would like to sleep as much as possible to be in the best possible conditions tomorrow—

—Of course dear. Have a good night. —

Grateful to Nat, I hung up the call and then closed my eyes. But not without first remembering Peter's beautiful green eyes.

[themeed]

damn allowed myself to want things for a day and all i want is a van to live in, knowledge, freedom, weight loss, and a bass guitar.

im. happy with that i think. im proud of me, no jokes. im proud of being able to want things and care about them and vibrate towards them with longing. im... pleased with that. its fulfilling in a way Not Wanting For Anything isnt, because thats... kinda hollow. empty. in a vacant, lonely, yearning and grieving and SAD way. maybe because i Couldnt Want then. i Couldnt Desire or it would be used against me or taken away. that sucks. that sucked.

and now. im free to want again. and comparatively???? i think im very much never going to aim for buddhism or that weird Not Desiring Not Attached Nirvana mindset. like good for u but been there out of trauma and its not fun theres no reason to truly Live. u just float endlessly and experience and it aches so badly!!!! it hurts to want to want and not be able to. and i guess that is different from not wanting at all but... its not different enough for me to justify ever going back to that. or going forward to that. i just got this back and screw enlightenment if it means i have to give up on my passions i dont think life is worth living without it.

and anybody who looks down on that from a spiritual tower has yet to examine their own pride and how empty they feel without it.

anybody who looks down and smiles and wishes me luck on my journey? good for them. im glad theyre living their best life, on their journey as they see fit.

and i feel the need to protect myself because ive been hurt by the pride- the arrogance of others before. a lot of my hurts and traumas stem from my mother being too prideful to recognize that she can be wrong and someone under her power could be correct over her. and it was an uncomfortable truth. so she denied it was one at all and hurt me. i know the reason could be elaborated on. she didnt want to confront her own internal logic. or trauma. or even doublethink. that doesnt excuse her hurting a child for the sake of her sense of pride, of comfort, of self-worth. a child under her power, that she claimed to be parent of. teacher of.

not owing anyone anything is not the same as not hurting anyone. i havent reconciled that yet. oppressors should be held accountable for their mistakes, and give reparations if the harm is physical at LEAST. and i think that applies to politics, yes. privately though? if i beat up a nazi, i dont want to pay for his hospital bills. my personal philosophy struggles between equating people and ideas as a worth measurement, and realizing that that line of thinking is... similar to oppressors. but. its based on something people can change. the question is, do i think "if given the opportunity" is a good enough reason to stop and question a racist that runs their mouth? and do i think pre-emptive violence is okay? if say, a nazi walks into a bar and doesnt say anything but is wearing all the red flags and bells and whistles. i dont think that justifies a beatdown. being asked to leave, sure, but the beatdown doesnt start til the first remark flies.

once the intent is given OR the action is taken, the line is drawn. doesnt matter if they Havent Had The Chance. if theyre starting shit outside of debate spaces like that, and not, say, asking questions, theyre not looking for new perspectives, and it is NOT my job to educate people. its not my job to Show People The Light. a quick fucking google search could tell them why theyre wrong. if they havent put even the most basic energy into questioning their beliefs, thats on them.

it sounds like im trying to absolve myself of blame here. largely because. i think i should go out and help educate people because theyre inherently complacent if theyre, yknow, in a position of power. aka white folk and men and rich folk and cis folk and on and on and on. these people dont live my reality. they dont live the reality of a gay black man in the south, or a genderqueer lesbian in the west, or an indigenous woman whose nation is being targeted, or a muslim woman who cannot wear her headcoverings in the face of danger of death, or an asian immigrant who cant get a job because of COVD age discrimination resurging. we will never live each others realities, but we can become aware of them.

they wont come into awareness without someone asking or telling, and then doing something to change them.

we shouldnt need to go running to people in power for them to be aware of problems in the populace, govt is supposed to help and solve issues like this. like. actively. thats the whole point, make life better for the countrys citizens. and individuals in a position of social power...

are individuals who didnt take on a responsibility to protect and serve or otherwise care for the populace of a nation. i personally think they SHOULD care, but they are not obligated to. i cant make them care about others.

and honestly, on some of them, it would be a waste of time. there are people who want to change or question things and yknow what? they seek out answers. in people or places or online usually. stats and stories.

so like. i dont think someones Potential as a person matters when theres a throwdown about to happen. it really isnt my responsibility to save people from themselves or try to change their sides against their will. if they want to chat about it they can ask questions first.

not throw insults or punches or hatred.

what people have been taught is worth analyzing and trying to correct IN SOCIETY but i cant fix every broken white boy that comes to me. PSAs, fliers, outreach, online videos, debate spaces. those are things i already have access to and can be a part of if i really want to go around changing minds. or yknow. get involved in legislation and be myself around others to change their perceptions of whats socially acceptable or normal. maybe protest, maybe call congressfolk, etc.

but not every comment has to be analyzed or a learning opportunity. im allowed to shut it down, and people can respect that or stop talking to me. this isnt my parents house where i had to justify everything that i said or did when scrutinized, and doubly justify any criticism i had of mother, or any joke i frowned at instead of smiling.

these people dont have that power over me. they arent my mother. they arent my boss, and if they are i can fuck off and get a new job if necessary. they dont have financial control over my living space and food and schooling and physical control of where i can go and with who and for how long. I CONTROL THAT. I do.

Huh. maybe thats why i want a van so bad. i mean... when this lease ends if nobody is gonna end up living with me...

i could just... live in my car and shower at truck stops. get a storage unit for my stuff. save by driving jobs. like 40 to 60 a day. tear out my cars back, insulate it, and install my mattress pad there. water on the floor, cooler next to it, wooden cutting coard, knife, single camping plateware set, and another little shelf for spices. maybe a hot plate i can hook up to the car battery? get a long enough usb and it might be doable. i could go camping and open the trunk to just... vibe.

because yeah, honestly? i dont plan on having a solid apartment for a bit. like a long bit. and i still have like 70000 miles on my car before itll want to go. and by that point, even at like 100 miles a day, thats like 2 years, less if i go cross country in that vehicle. i could save up SO MUCH for a better vehicle, or like. college. live on campus, get some credit, continue working after i figure out want i want to do.

i think thats a solid plan, even if i dont get another apartment and put everything in storage. work as i need to instead of all the time for rent, really only paying for gas, car repairs, car ins, food, and phone data/hotspot internet... that would bring my monthly expenses down to like 500 a month max instead of like 1400. id only need to make some 1000 a month doing contract stuff to save for taxes and stuff. anything extra would be just that: extra for savings and things. holy shit.

depending on how this next month goes for my friends, holy s h i t.

i. i might do this. legitimately.

i. dont think i can yet. i need proof of address to get my license im pretty sure? but hey, thatll be my 21st this year, so. once i have that i wont need a new address for a While. i dont know if ill want one, really.

i could always just ask a friend or family member if i could use theirs for mail that cant go to a PO box.

anyway. yeah. wow.

[chwetuan]

the hook-up; jinyoung

+ category: fic (wc - 2.5k) 

+ genre: soft angst, fluff, exes!au

+ a/n: i’m back with my first full-length fic since coffee bean! this is a wip that was originally a request from much, much earlier this year. enjoy <3 - Z

Saturday Morning You were not in your own bedroom. This much you registered upon opening your eyes — barely. And if the warmth at your side was no indication that there was a person next to you, the snores and the smell of whatever the hell happened last night surely was.

You sat up, preparing to make a swift exit, when suddenly, things had become the complete opposite of “normal post-frat party”.

There was a very obvious pair of pink, fur-lined handcuffs secured around your left wrist. Your first instinct was to scream - which you did, your theatrics jolting the guy you soon realized you were attached to from his slumber.

“Listen here, freak,” You start, chin jutting out and chest puffing as threateningly as you could manage in your half-sitting up position. It was more awkward than anything, the way you were perched on your elbows. 

“You better have a fucking expla- Oh my god,”

Staring back at you, an annoyed scowl and a case of bed head that always looked too good on him (this you knew) was the last person you wanted to see. He hisses, throwing the comforter off your bodies - and thank god, you were clothed - clambering to his feet. 

“What the fuck did you do?”

The tug of your arm is unintentional but painful, bending your wrist in an unnatural position as you’re pulled to your knees in an attempt to balance.

Your first instinct is to push him, but you’re unstable on the bed. Instead, you settle for a hand on his shoulder and frown in his direction.

“Ow, you asshole!”

Jinyoung can’t do anything but stare at you. He takes in the dress you’re wearing, how the cinched satin blue contrasts with the comforter, and for a moment, he wishes he could enjoy how good you look, even with last night's makeup smudged around your eyes and hair sticking up in different directions. He can’t, however, because the pink handcuffs that attach your left wrist to his right is all that he can focus on.

6 Months Before: The Break-Up You’re not sure what started the argument this time, but if the look on your boyfriend’s face was giving any hints — he was pissed, and it would be a long one.

“Could you have at least acted like you wanted to be there?”

You can tell he’s watching you, his gaze burning holes into your back as you roll your eyes and undo your shoes. 

“I didn’t want to be there.”

He scoffs, and you hear the rustle of him removing his jacket and beanie. “Seriously?”

“What did I do, Jinyoung?” You snap, turning to face him. “I told you that I didn’t want to go. I’m sorry if I wasn’t in the mood to sit and socialize with a bunch of people who hardly acknowledge me to begin with.”

Your tone is challenging, arms crossing in defiance while he sits on the edge of his bed, leveling you with a look.

“You ignored everyone at the table and sat on your phone the entire time.”

“You didn’t seem to care too much about what I was doing when we were there. The girls seemed to keep you very occupied.”

His brows furrow at the suggestive undertone of your words. “Are you serious right now?”

“Have you ever thought that maybe I was the one being ignored?” You ask openly. “That no one was talking to me? That maybe, it’s not my fault?”

He doesn’t answer.

“You know what?” You pause, grabbing your purse from off of his desk. “I’m starting to get real tired of you reaching for new reasons to argue with me. It’s like I can’t do anything right. I talk too much and I’m oversharing, or I laugh too hard at someone’s joke and I’m flirting. I ask you to spend time with me and I’m too demanding. I kiss you a little too long, and suddenly I’m needy.”

Maybe it’s the courage of red wine filling your system, or maybe it’s frustration at the last 3 months of your relationship being too tiring, but something has taken over your words.

Jinyoung doesn’t do anything but watch you gather your things and listen to your rant with growing irritation, his jaw clenching.

“If you don’t want to be with me anymore, just say it already. I’m tired of fighting with you, and I’m tired of fighting for something one-sided.”

“If that’s how you think I feel, then maybe we should’ve broken up a long time ago.”

You’re not sure what you were expecting, but his response makes you freeze momentarily. Maybe you were expecting him to deny your words, to tell you he still wants you, or to take you in his arms with another apology and then to his bed where he takes your breath away. The thought sets a strange feeling in your chest, one that reminds you that’s all your relationship had been watered down to in the last few weeks. There was no more spontaneity; no more movie nights, arcade dates, or even study sessions. Just arguments, apologies, and sex. The thought makes your stomach churn with a form of sadness you haven’t felt in a long time — so grounding, it almost takes you away from what’s happening at the moment.

The word leaves your lips before your mind processes what you’re saying.“Okay.”

“Okay, what?” Jinyoung demands, and suddenly, the feeling in your stomach is gone.

“We’re finished.”

12 Months Before: “I’m running out of ways to express that I have feelings for you.” Jinyoung’s tone is teasing when he hands you the plastic bag.

His words catch you off guard, but there’s no way you’ll let him know that. Of course, you’ve been speculating that maybe he liked you a little more than a friend for a while now, but you were never one to flat out assume anything — not when the first move hadn’t been made.

“What are you talking about? You haven’t even kissed me yet.” You quip, setting the bag down on the dining table and running a hand through your hair.

“Oh? I guess I’m in the wrong, then.”

“Most definitely. I can’t believe you. You should leave.”

“But,” He starts, stepping closer and taking your chin between his fingers. “I haven’t even kissed you yet.”

He’s smirking, the nerve of the fucker, and your heart is beating so quickly in your chest, you’re worried he can hear it.

When his lips touch your own, your eyes shut tight, and it feels like a garden has bloomed in your chest when his free hand comes to grasp your waist — butterflies and all.

He pulls away, the same smug look on his face as before when your lips chase his own. “Is the message clear, now?”

Pausing, your eyes look upwards as you pretend to contemplate something very important — something very, very pivotal. “Almost.”

And he kisses you again, and again, and again, until the message is clear — until you know how he feels about you, and until you let him call you his girlfriend.

Friday Night: The Hook-Up “You have to wear that dress. That’s an “I’m getting laid tonight” dress.”

“You always know exactly what to say.”

She laughs as she stretches her arms above her head. “I only speak the truth. ”

You sigh, staring at the navy number, a smile playing on your lips. “I’m not trying to get laid, though.”

She scoffs, sitting up from her place on your bed as she clutches a pillow to her chest. “Oh, please.”

You raise a brow at her reflection in the mirror. “What?”

“I won’t say it...but, you know.”

You do know. It has been awhile.

So you wear the fuck me dress, and you get fucked up in a frat house that seems like a distant memory. A hazy recollection in the archive of your conscious as you take in the high ceilings, rounded archways, and red cups scattered across the lawn and kitchen.

Your cheeks flush with the heat of bodies, and vodka, and whatever else you’ve been sipping on since the moment you walked in.

You avoid the eyes you feel burning into your skin, the smiles of old friends, and the lips of prospective lovers. It all passes like that same hazy dream — that slow-motion, warped bass, and iridescence.

You find yourself in Youngjae’s room, the music turned murmur as you lay on his bed, eyeing the posters on the wall and the rotation of the ceiling fan. You close your eyes and fall asleep.

Then, you wake up.

Presently

Awkwardly wringing his hands and taking a sip from his glass, Youngjae finally starts talking.

“I don’t know where the key is.” His cheeks are such a deep shade of red they could be mistaken for blood oranges.

“Why the fuck would you handcuff us together in the first place?” Jinyoung presses, tugging you along with him as he sits on the barstool.

There’s an embarrassed smile on Youngjae’s face. “It wasn’t my idea. Talk to-”

“But these are your handcuffs.” You confirm, curring him off, eyes zoning in on the younger boy as he fiddles with his chain.

“Uh, yeah,” He pauses, rushing to clarify. “Well, they’re not for me, but I own them.” “I don’t care who they’re for, Youngjae. Where’s the spare key?”

“S-spare?”

Jinyoung groans. “We’re gonna have to get someone to cut them.”

Fright crosses Youngjae’s features, before he’s interjecting. “No!”

“What the hell do you mean ‘no’? They have to come off.” Jinyoung fumes, eyebrows furrowing in denial.

“Give me a day to find the key. One day.” He’s practically begging.

You press, gesticulating wildly before Jinyoung’s detached hand traps your own on the table. “Youngjae, what do you want us to do? Stay like this? Are you kidding?”

“The thing is, they’re custom made. I spent $600 on them. One day is all I need.”

~~~

“Stop walking me like I’m on a leash. I’m not your dog.”

“You’re seriously more annoying than I remember.”

He freezes in his steps. “You’re making it way too obvious that we’re handcuffed. At least walk next to me. Insisting to walk two feet away from me doesn’t change the fact that I’m right here.” He tugs you back towards him.

“Neither does it change that fact that you’re still annoying.”

He lets out a sigh as your steps begin to fall in line with his own.

~~~

“Jinyoung.”

He snaps. “What more do you want me to do?”

The situation at hand is not ideal — It hasn’t been from the start. But as you stand in the shower, curtain drawn, dress pooling around your ankles, you can’t help but put your pride aside.

“Just take it off!” You squeak.

“Do it yourself.”

“Do you think that if I could do it myself, I would’ve asked you, dickwad?”

A groan of acceptance resounds through the small space of his bathroom. 

“Okay. My hand is coming in.”

“Just do it already,” You snap. “There isn’t anything you haven’t seen before.”

“Don’t remind me.”

You roll your eyes.

“Okay.” He exhales, pulling back the curtain with his eyes shut tight.

“I never thought I’d be doing this again.” He says as he unclasps your bra.

“You literally don’t have to narrate your every action.”

~~~

Jinyoung’s words are thick with tiredness when he tells you to stop. It’s about 2am, his voice is a mere mutter, and the room is dark, but you’re wide awake.

“What?”

His body is close to your own, shoulder to shoulder, forced to lay side by side by the cuffs that attach you.

“Tugging the blanket.”

“Oh,” Your voice is small in the space between you. “I’m sorry.”

“You always used to do that.”

Used to. You wish you could will yourself to forget about the past, to forget about his presence next to you, and forget about the urge you have to curl into his chest and have him kiss away your nighttime worries.

“You haven’t slept at all.” He points out.

His voice is a bit clearer now, more matter-of-fact and his words throw you into the same pool of emotions you were working so hard to avoid.

“Why couldn’t we make it work?”

He sighs, softly calling your name. “We shouldn’t do this.”

“Why not?” You demand. “Were we meant to fall apart?” There’s a few moments of silence as the words settle. It’s asking a question with an answer already in your mind, unable to decipher your own desires from your bitter rationalizations.

Maybe you wanted it to fall apart. Having a reason is better than having none.

“We could have made it work.”

Jinyoung wants so badly to hold you until the question leaves your mind. His heart is beating in his chest, loud in his ears because of course, of course you were never meant to fall apart.

You were always meant to be where you were right now, in his bed and at his side.

“You let me leave.”

“You left on your own.” His voice is soft, barely above a whisper, and the meaning behinds his word etches their way onto the hardened canvas of your heart.

And it starts breaking.

“I didn’t want to leave, Jinyoung.”

He’s biting his lip and his tongue, teetering on the line of being honest and running from his feelings - as he’s always done. 

He feels like he’s walking on a tight rope, one misstep away from falling into the pit of whatever the hell the feeling in his chest is. 

He can’t describe it - it encompasses him whole and makes his mind race. It makes him unsure of himself, and he’s afraid it’ll steal his soul from within him. It’s a stagnant battle, with no end or beginning within sight.

“But you still left.”

You’d think his words would be bitter and biting — the opposite of the defeated response he gives you.

“I felt like I had to.”

“You didn’t.”

Tears gather in your eyes. He’s right.

“You could have stopped me.” You’re right.

“We were changing.”

You whisper back to him. “I know.”

It’s then his phone buzzes to life on his nightstand, a message left unread, and a saving grace all at once.

The night grows darker, eyes heavier, and minds empty as you fade into slumber.

~~~

When the click of the key in the lock of the handcuffs echoes in the quiet kitchen, you feel the same bittersweet ache in your wrist that you felt in your heart a few months earlier.

It’s symbolic. You’re not chained to each other anymore. You’re free. Maybe, it’s for the best.

Something keeps Jinyoung at your side when you leave Youngjae’s house. He lingers, not knowing what to say.

Biting his tongue and biding his time.

“We changed,” You whisper softly after a few moments. “We changed, but I think we can try again.”

He nods, taking your hand in his own. And it’s different from the handcuffs, and different from all the other times he’s held your hand. And it’s good. At least for the moment.

“I think we can, too.”

And you don’t know if it will work; you don’t know if you’re setting yourself up for heartbreak and more sleepless nights, but you also don’t know if you’re setting yourself up for happiness. The risk is worth the taking. 

.

.

.

[britesparc]

Weekend Top Ten #389

Top Ten Things I Want from The Batman

So last week I celebrated the thirtieth anniversary of Tim Burton’s Batman by listing the things I thought he got “right” about the character (“right” being, I acknowledge, arbitrary). This time around, sticking with a similar theme, I’m going to flip the switch and look to the future. Matt Reeves’ long-gestating Bat-pic The Batman is finally gearing up, having recently cast its Dark Knight in the shape of erstwhile vampire Robert Pattinson. The saga of The Batman, its Affleck-ness and its connectedness with the DCEU as-was, is almost worth a movie on its own (I really hope there’s a book written about it at some point, or at least a long-form essay; the ins and outs of what became of the DCEU and the de-Snyder-fication of their film slate is potentially fascinating). At any rate, we’re going to get another Batman film and that’s quite exciting. Especially as it is – potentially – a chance to course-correct issues that I had over the previous incarnation of the Caped Crusader. Ben Affleck was very good, but he looked a bit sad and hefty in the suit (the silly cowl essentially removed his neck), and he killed a lot of people. Like, tons. What’s up with that?

So with all that in mind, and given everything that’s come before, here’s a list of places where I hope Reeves and Pattinson go with their Bat-epic. Or even don’t go! You’ll see what I mean, as we get into a list of things I want from the new Batman, The Batman.

No Guns, No Killing: this is a big one for me. The Batman I love in the comics – most of the incarnations, anyway – is very strict about this. For him, murder is the worst crime, and his whole deal is being Anti-Crime. Therefore he would never, ever kill. Also he views guns as, literally, the “weapon of the enemy”. Even Nolan’s Dark Knight trilogy – which is probably the closest to the comics in terms of his “one rule” – had him bedecking his equipment with guns and “not saving” people. Here, I’d like a very strict code.

White Eyes: okay, I’m not asking for an MCU Spider-Man here; I know comics characters have whited-out eyes in costume and that doesn’t usually translate to live-action. But Batman would/could/should wear some kind of eye-piece. Even if it’s goggles that he removes/retract into his cowl. What I want to avoid is the blacked-out “panda eyes” look of seeing his real eyes within his cowl. I just find it a bit daft for Batman.

A Working Batsuit: whilst I’m on the subject of Batman’s Bat-duds, one thing that I loved about the Nolan-verse was that his outfit was sensible. Obviously not too sensible, as he’s, y’know, dressed as a bat, but it looked like a suit designed to fight crime in. The Burton/Schumacher suits looked like sculpted pieces of rubber, no good for movement; the Snyder suit looked like fancy dress with “cosmetic damage” and rubbery wrinkles. The MCU, on the other hand, is great at making superhero suits that look iconic and super-y but also workable; Captain America wears some kind of oversuit with, presumably, armour on the inside, and also a cowl of sorts, but one which allows him to move his head and which looks functional despite also having a dirty great “A” on it.

Sweet Wheels: similarly, I’d like a Batmobile that’s more “car” than “tank”. The Burton/Schumacher films, as was their want, gave Bats a car that was more form than function; going the other way, Nolan and Snyder had heavily-armoured war machines that owed a big debt to The Dark Knight Returns. I’d rather lean towards the former, but really, can’t he just have some souped-up Knight Rider thing that’s fast and stealthy? He’s more Black Widow than War Machine don’t forget.

Heh: Batman has, by his own admission, “a sense of humour that nobody gets”. I don’t want a relentlessly dour grimdark Batman. Give me a Batman who can crack a wry smile or a sardonic one-liner, even if he’s being bitterly ironic. To be fair most screen incarnations of Batman have had some sense of humour, but Batman v Superman in particular was almost relentless in its miserableness so I’m hoping The Batman has a funny bone, pitch black as it may be.

A Real Gotham: although I praised to the heavens last week the Anton Furst-ified Gotham of Batman and Batman Returns, I’d like it if the new film hewed closer to Nolan’s vision of the city as a “real” place. Sure, give it stylised embellishments; make it “New York at night” or some twisted version of New Jersey or Chicago or whatever. But I don’t think we need the ridiculous mile-high statues of the Schumacher films, and the less said about the frankly terrible CGI cityscape from the opening minutes of Justice League the better. Shoot on location, or use really good CGI. Make it 10% weirder than normal and I think we’re onto a winner.

Make Batman John Wick: I love how John Wick fights. He’s all business. Boom, boom, the guy’s down, blam, blam, he’s dead. It’s all about minimalising risk, fighting as efficiently as possible. He gets the guys down because, well, the longer they’re up the more chance that they’ll kill him. Batman should fight like that. As few moves as possible, but target them precisely; nothing flashy or extravagant, just get the guys down. Obviously he doesn’t kill or use a gun (see point number 1) but I want a Batman who looks cool when fighting, looks like he trained with monks and ninjas and assassins and wizards. Basically, let’s have some genuinely impressive-looking fight scenes for once.

Make Batman Sherlock: I have high hopes for this one, as the word round the internet campfire is The Batman will be much more detective-focused than previous films (to this date, the two Batmen who are the most sleuth-y are Adam West and Kevin Conroy). But Batman is supposed to be the World’s Greatest Detective so, y’know, let’s see him detect. Greatly. Er, around the world. Make it a proper crime film, a whodunnit. That’d be good.

Make Batman Weird: not necessarily “Tim Burton weird”, but just give us a sense that this is a Batman who has a sci-fi closet. A Batman who, maybe, has fought Monster Men, Killer Crocs, sentient mud and murderous flora. Nolan’s Batman was super-serious and Snyder’s Batman was super-miserable so whilst I applaud a more street-level focus and a noir-ish tone, I hope the possibility exists for a world full of Man-Bats, immortal warlords, dollotrons, and more.

A Wider World: I really hope this one is viable. The plan was for the Justice League-centred movies to form a spine, telling a story arc over multiple films, with the stand-alone tales functioning as spin-offs. As it turned out, the “spin-offs” were the successful ones, and with Batman being rebooted from Batfleck to Battinson, it looks like the “Extended” part of “DC Extended Universe” is up in the air (so is the “Universe” part too, I guess). I don’t know if Justice League or the preceding films are still in continuity even, or if continuity is still a thing, but all the same what I want from a DC Comics adaptation is a shared universe. I’m not a big fan of Zack Snyder’s incarnation of that universe (too dark, miserable, and po-faced), but I still want to see Bruce hanging out with Clark, teaming up with Diana, arguing with Arthur… I want that feeling you get from the MCU (and the comics, for that matter), that Wakanda going public or SHIELD being disbanded or Tony Stark dying is going to have repercussions in other films. I think The Batman is going to be pretty much self-contained in the same way as Wonder Woman, Aquaman, and Shazam, but all the same, I hope the potential is still there. In much the same way as I’m very happy for the film to be a street-level noir with the potential to one day have a sequel featuring Batman and Robin fighting off Mister Freeze in a Bat-UFO, I hope it focuses on Bruce and Gotham with the potential to segue into a Justice League movie or have a sequel set in Themyscira or something. Don’t close off the universe, is what I’m saying.

So there we are. I’m aware that this is, essentially, a fanboy wishlist of My Ideal Batman, coming from a straight white bloke in his thirties who graduated from Year One through Knightfall then “New Gotham” and found his Batman apogee in the works of Grant Morrison. Matt Reeves has his vision and it’s good that he sticks to that (for better or worse, I still would have liked to have seen how Snyder’s proposed Justice League arc had played out – although I am emphatically not a “Snyder Cut” devotee). But I feel there’s a sweet spot between stylised and realistic, between comics-accurate and designed-for-film, that hasn’t quite been reached with Batman yet (The Animated Series came closest). Nolan’s films are obviously the best, but I do think that the more realistic you make Batman’s world, the less realistic he himself becomes, and you make the central conceit (trust fund orphan did a lot of push-ups then dressed as a Dracula to Fight Crime) all the more silly. I’m still a bit sad that we lost Affleck, but I’m very excited by where we’re going to go. I just hope it doesn’t preclude a World’s Finest, Justice League Unlimited, or – heck – even a Robin movie somewhere down the line.

[dukeofriven]

[Note: this post originally appeared in this thread. Owning to Tumblr’s inability to update reblogs with edits because it is a hellsite programmed by a secretive cell of former Stasi operatives to avenge the fall of East Germany, it has thus been re-edited and reformatted here for your reading pleasure.] JK Rowling’s wizards are the most useless, lazy, incapable dumbfucks in the history of fiction. The average Muggle? You take away their technology and they would be able to complete the basic tasks of feeding and clothing themselves without shitting on the floor. If a wizard ever lost their magic in Harry Potter, though, they would die. They’d be dead in three days. They’re garbage and I hate that I’ve come to hate Harry Potter - a series I once loved - because an author inexplicably hailed for her world-building is daily revealed to be appallingly bad at it. I realize this is a really dumb thing to be this angry about but I’ve been told for years what a great world-builder J.K. Rowling is, and that was not even true when the books were coming out. The Time Turner ruined all of Harry Potter forever, not because it offers easy time travel you can hold in your hand (although it does), not because you ask ‘why don’t they just use the time turner’ with every subsequent scenario forever (although you do), but because it was an enormous, flashing red light warning everyone that the series was going to attempt to make the transition from Fairy Tale Logic to Serious Fiction logic and fail. Badly. Really, really badly. I still think Harry Potter & The Philosopher’s Stone is an almost perfect book: a distillation of decades of boarding school genre fiction combined with magic, friendship, and wonder. It is a book that owes as much to Enid Blyton and L.M. Boston as it does to C.S. Lewis or T.H. White and other authors with two first initials. Its sense of place is magisterial, from the frumpy, soul-crushing suburban sadness of Privet Drive to the ephemeral curio-shop wonderland of Diagon Alley to Hogwarts itself, a bastion of astonishment, homeliness, and delight. What it isn’t is the sort of framework on which you can support the horror that is the torture and murder of Charity Burbage in front of her colleague Severus Snape, who could not rescue her because he could not break his deep cover as a spy against Wizard Hitler 2. Long-running series can experience changes of tone and complexity. This is neither something laudable nor worth reviling; it’s a neutral phenomenon. Sometimes series do it well: Susan Cooper’s The Dark Is Rising and Terry Pratchett’s Discworld are both series that by-and-large end with books focused on far more complex issues than their earlier entries. TV series do this too: contrast the early episodes of Steven Universe or Adventure Time with episodes from later seasons. With Adventure Time, for example, trying jumping from the pilot to Remember You and see how hard you get tonal whiplash) Lois McMaster Bujold sublime space opera The Vorkosigan Saga doesn’t just change tones but also genre: space adventure, murder mystery, political thriller, goofy regency romance, comedy of errors, heist movie, schizoid identity crisis - on and on. The latest entry in the series has almost no plot to speak of, but is instead a musing on age, gender roles, grieving the loss of a lover, and the hope of new life. Some series, however, manage the transition poorly, largely because the initial tone cannot be harmonized with the later tone (Mass Effect jumps immediately to mind). But Harry Potter has more than just a problem of its tone getting darker: its trying to have darker events fit in the same world in which people can walk around with names like ‘Mundungus,’ the Hogwarts school song can be a nonsense poem, and the Philosopher’s Stone was defended with a series of video game puzzles. In a world in which the villain openly tortures somebody to death, the Philosopher’s Stone shouldn’t have any whimisical bullshit about its magical defences: it should have trip mines in the floor and an enchanted statue with a gun, because Voldermort isn’t a guy you confound with drinking potions and flying keys. You should just kill him. The charming fairy world of wonder of HP & The Philosopher’s Stone has room for a love potion. The later books, in which it is revealed that Voldemort was essentially born from rape, is not place where Ron Weasley can hand-out a book to Harry called Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches without seeming like a predator in the making. The cradle that is The Philosopher’s Stone cannot hold a beastly baby like Deathly Hallows any more than Grindlewald pontificating about the superiority of wizards can sit comfortably in a universe in which wizards took until the 18th century to accept the outhouse! Not that fascist ravings are inherently logical; but even non-fascists in Harry Potter never act like wizards are anything other than 100% better than muggles at all times. They can’t, because if the series were ever to do that it would have to acknowledge that the two worlds are different: neither better, just different. Instead - well, as Ron once bitched, magic makes coffee perfect every time, so it’s not clear how muggles stand being alive and don’t just roll-over and die from the hellacious half-life that is living with imperfect coffee. This has nothing to do with irony, a suggestion that ‘oh Grindewald talks a big game about wizardly superiority but wizards didn’t use toilets and cal themselves goofy names like Flumpus MacFludgeon: Rowling is using dramatic ironic to lampshade how wizard supremacy lacks self-awareness. No: this is about a world that is silly being asked to host a genocidal dictator and his crimes. It’s like those tedious ‘grimdark’ AUs that always show up in bad fanfiction by authors attempting to be serious: what if the Sesame Street gang had to deal with ICE, what if Po started haemoraging while hanging-out with Laa-Laa, what if Peppa Pig learned that she was adopted and her real parents were brutally murdered as part of gang war because they were heroin dealers and so on. (The best skewering of this edgelord comedy is still probably either Andrew Hussie’s Muppet Babies/Saw comic or any encounters the Shortpacked staff ever had with the Transformers: Buckets of Blood guy.) In Harry Potter, Rowling built a wonderful little fantasy world that ran happily on the logic of fairy tales and fairy stories, and then decided she was never going to be taken seriously as an author unless she introduced Hitler to the equation. And it never works for her. It’s not like it couldn’t have worked. The Lord of the Rings is famously a very different book from The Hobbit. It did, in fact, introduce Hitler into a little fantasy world but Tolkien made it work by abandoning huge portions of the Hobbit’s tone, style, and structure: he wrote a completely different book.  Frodo isn’t scarfing-down Bertie Bott’s Every Flavoured Beans on the slopes of  Mount Doom. The moment, say, Cedric Diggory lay dead in Harry’s arms, we needed to never meet Mundungus Fletcher ever again, or Weasley’s Gooftacular Prank Nonsense, or Ron getting Harry a book about love spells. All the very least that needed to go away, at least until the very end, because Rowling is not an author with the skill to keep the silly and the sublime on the same page. That’s fine in and of itself: all artistic people have strengths and weakness, nobody is skilled at every element of creation. J.M. Barrie was very good at writing a book about an eternal child, but a bit crap at writing a biography about his mother. Arthur Sullivan spent his life quietly seething no one wanted to listen to Ivanhoe instead of The Mikado. There’s a reason Jerry Lewis never released The Day the Clown Cried.  Virginia Wolfe is a great writer, but that doesn’t mean she would have written a great run on She-Hulk. [Although now that I’ve said it I can’t think of anything I want to read more.] There’s a great bit in the Lord of Rings after the Shire has been scoured of Saruman where the Hobbits essentially open-up their larders and allow people to have fun again; there’s also a nice bit slightly earlier where Great King Aragorn puts on his old Strider clothes just so he can be his D&D character again: when series change tone, unless you’re really good at walking on a knife’s edge, the quieter, gentler, lighter world isn’t gone forever, but it does have to go away for a while: which means its time to tamp-down on the people with silly names and personalities - like Slughorn, who slips into book six like the second-coming of the vain and silly Lockhart, even though that’s the book where Dumbledore dies.

Rowling keeps trying to makes her old tone fit with her new world without having to pull a Tolkien and actually write differently, which produces moment after moment of tonal whiplash in which the latest Potter-related movie literally involves referencing the holocaust but she also drops some fun trivia about wizards shitting on the floor like animals. (You could describe the entirety of the first Fantastic Beasts film as Tonal Whiplash: The Motion Picture. I’d say that’s an essay for another day but I do not want to have to watch that movie again.)

It needs to be said that a primary reason these tone shifts ‘don’t work’ for Harry Potter is that the logic of a fairy tale is different than the logic of a mundane story. The logic of a fairy tale tends to be self contained: it doesn’t have a smart ass running around asking questions like ‘why’ because there is no why; a thing is the way it is because it is the way it is. Fairies steal babies on the third Sunday of every month, and nobody in the story asks ‘well what about in countries that use different calendars, and what about the shift from Julian to the Gregorian calendar that skipped eleven days?’ because such a pedantic question has no substance in a fairy-tale world. The Clever Child might question what the fairies need with babies, but she’s not about to break-down the week-to-week investment metrics on the Fairyland Infant Exchange. It’s not that one cannot critique or bring critical thinking to fairy stories; it’s that in a fairy story you don’t ask how the sewer system works because it’s not pertinent to what the story is trying to convey. It’s being the guy at the book club who is mad nobody wants to discuss his theories on the music of Rush: its not that the theories are bad, it’s that in this time and place they are of limited relevance. Harry Potter, however, does not belong to to the world of fairy stories, but to the legacy of Tolkienesque fantasy - the world of

  In The Hobbit nobody would ever ask if Hobbiton had sewers - it’s not important, and if you ask those kind of questions expecting there to be a serious answer of grave import you’re being a twit. Lord of the Rings, though? Not only is it a valid question, but Tolkien probably wrote a paper explaining the etymology of the Westron word for ‘sewer’ and how sewers were first invented by Shítlívær the Noldor as a way of helping the Blessed Isles cope with all the crap that tumbled out of Fëanor’s mouth.

The world of The Hobbit is one you could enter and expect to quickly find yourself on an adventure. The world of The Lord of The Rings is one you could enter, walk-about, and study without anyone ever exepecting you to solve some sort of regionally-disturbing social problem: in short, it wants you to be invested in the existence of its world in a different way than The Hobbit. Even then, although The Lord of the Rings is more grounded than The Hobbit, it is not so grounded that it doesn’t leave room for mystery, and questions that refute Wittgenstein’s assertion that all questions must be answerable. Tolkien loved to create complex worlds, but there was stuff he knew wasn’t worth elaborating on. It’s really his fans and authorial heirs who developed the somewhat worrying belief that a good worldbuilder has to have an answer to literally every question or else didn’t think their world through. (This has killed more potentially good books than bad cover art ever has.)

The Lord of the Rings leaves room for The Undiscovered Country. Harry Potter wants too… but can’t. Firstly, Rowling obviously understands the need for what we might call poetic mystery - like the gateway in the somewhat unsubtly name Department of Mysteries - but she also wants you to know how wizards pooped three hundred years ago. You get the feeling she knows exactly how and why that gate works, and what it is, but she withheld the knowledge because she likes mystery’s aesthetic more than she ascribes to any idea that an author might have lacunæ in the knowledge of their own work. That is, she would never put something into her work that she didn’t have an answer for - for her there is no undiscovered country that exists beyond the knowledge of even the author; she is an omniscient deity. Not for her is C.S. Lewis’ insistence that for her characters: All their life in this world and all their adventures had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on for ever: in which every chapter is better than the one before. Rowling knows exactly what happens to every one of them from the moment they were born to the moment the rot in the ground and the day-to-day schedules of their lives in heaven. Secondly - and far more of an issue - is that Harry Potter becomes a world that invites you to pick up each part of its structure and think about it, because the author has - with loving care - built that entire world for you to interact with. A place for everything, and everything its place. Except JK Rowling is a lazy thinker who never, ever considers the consequences of anything she says. Nagini is actually an Asian woman cursed to live as a snake, wizards used to magically disappear their shit from wherever they just stood and shat it out, Hermione Granger can have a time travel device to attended a bunch of classes but Harry can’t grab one off a nearby shelf and go back fifteen minutes and save his godfather, and nor a few years later can the Minister for Magic’s protection detail keep them on hand to go back half an hour and tell their past selves ‘Hey Voldemort is about to walk in here and kill y’all thought you ought to know.’ No author can work-out every aspect of every element in their works - that’s impossible, and why ARGs are solved by the internet hivemind in half a day even though they took a far smaller group of minds months to devise. But Rowling is intellectually lazy - she adds the holocaust to her Magic Fun Land without sparing a single moment to think that idea through. She then gets defensive when confronted by the suggestion that her worldbuilding might have been shallow. Hey your American wizard houses seem a bit racist also America doesn’t really use the house system in its schools - and her response was to lash out and not listen.  Rowling tried to move Potter from a fairy logic world with its own rules into our world with our rules and our history but she doesn’t know our history very well, or even our rules, so she tells us wizards shat on the floor until the 18th century while the rest of us sit around going ‘but humans have never done that as social groups - even in horrible slums and facility-free prison cells humans create a designated place for taking a shit even if it’s just ‘that corner over there.’ We don’t just drop pants and go whenever!” This is because, as a worldbuilder, J.K. Rowling is actually kind of rubbish.

[bluepenguinstories]

Happiness Overload Chapter Twenty-Six

The big day.

Execution.

Judgment day.

Maybe the world would still turn.

Maybe the world outside was a world full of peace and prosperity.

It was hard to say.

Hard to tell if I ever lived on the surface or if my whole life was inside of a box, thinking I knew everything when in fact, I knew very little. Always so assured, I was, that I was on top of it, in control. That I worked my whole damn life to be greater than and not a less than or equal to.

Well some situations are just like that, aren't they? They don't care how hard you worked, who you surpassed, what you accomplished.

The doors opened and I shot a glance at the one I would be dying beside. My bitter rival, who before yesterday didn't even know of my existence. She looked my way as well and smiled.

“Sleep well?” She asked.

In spite of our peril, she didn't seem the least bit bothered.

“Really? You're really going to ask that when we're about to be killed?”

She shrugged, a smile cracking, lips cracked. I wasn't sure who she was fooling, but she was playing the fool all the same.

“I like to look on the bright side of life.”

Our hands, once again, restrained by an emanent force, something that for all my knowledge of the advanced technology and weaponry of the area, I was still at a loss for. All I knew was that I shouldn't have been in this position. It was neither right, fair, nor reasonable. I tried exhausting my options the night before, to no avail. So my enemy and I, side by side, awaiting our deaths.

Grand.

Behind us appeared the silhouette, the silk hologram of one who went by 'Dr. Chekhov'.

“Greetings Mavis Beacon and Velvet. I do hope you two slept well.”

“Really? You too?” I turned my head, teeth bared for the good doctor to see. “I don't need the concern!”

“Ah, but a good night's rest was the least we could do considering your fate.”

The floor beneath our feet moved, us two on a conveyor belt. We were inching closer to a dark space at the end of a corridor.

“You could have thrown in a last meal, too,” Velvet pointed out.

Really? That's what you're going to point out. Believe it or not, I'm NOT looking forward to this. I can do you one better.

“The only reason you gave us a 'good night's rest' was because the systems were down,” I pointed out.

“Ah, yes. Well, devil's in the details, as they say.”

Velvet wagged her finger. “See? That's what I'm saying! If I die, I die.”

Aren't you full of life?

We continued to move.

“I would like to point out the method of your deaths will be --”

“ZIP IT!” Velvet barked. “Don't want to hear it. Not interested. Just as you said, devil's in the details. Hearing any more and it would be a sin.”

Not interested in how you'll die? Well, can't say I blame you, but if I knew, maybe I could have stopped it. Found a work around. I guess you just feel an immense sense of guilt over something and want to go out without a fight.

“Very well. All I was going to say was that your deaths will be painless.”

Velvet nudged me. Even with her hands restrained, her shoulders were still free to do as they pleased.

“Did ya hear that? It'll be painless because we'll be dead.” She gave a little chuckle, as if it was some kind of joke.

I grunted and shoved her back.

“Don't nudge me, asshole!”

She shoved back, harder, enough to make me teeter off the edge. I kept my balance, though I was unsure why. We were closer to the room wreathed in shadow. My heartbeat was fighting against me, yearning to escape.

There was an edge?

I looked to my side. It looked like there were impenetrable walls around us and we were just sliding through a tunnel.

“Stop that, you two!” Dr. Chekhov scolded as if he were our parent. Velvet grinned, or maybe it was more of a look of mischief, playfulness, flirting with the idea of something dangerous.

I wasn't quite sure, but I knew one thing – I was pissed.

I shoved her right back, and she bared her fangs, inviting whatever may come.

“Say no more; say no more!” She let out a jovial cheer and hit me with more force than I thought she could have mustered. Enough of a force, in fact, that I fell right through – right through the wall to my left. Such an impenetrable wall was nothing more than tapestry, plastered in such a manner to give off such a brilliant illusion.

Before my descent, I thought I could see the faint sight of blades from behind the shadowed room.

Of course; why kill us when they could recycle us?

It didn't look like Velvet was going to have any part of that either, as she took her plunge down as well. In a way, I was glad; I would have rather seen her gone for good than know another version of her would exist in her place.

Against my back were wires upon wires. Jolts across my skin, frying and loose cables scraping my sides. Cuts against my body, little tears along my clothing. Reminders of the burn on my ankle. Unsure of how far down the bottom went and if I would survive the fall, I grabbed onto a cable and slid myself down the wall, enduring the shock. I realized that my hands were no longer bound by the energy cuffing me. It must have had a range which faded once it was far enough away from the doctor.

My feet as well, burning from the friction against the wall. Oh, if this was boot camp I should have gotten the medal of honor. Once I made my way to the bottom, I let out a sigh of relief.

She left me to die. Somehow she knew there was a place further down than where we were and she pushed me to my death.

I ground my teeth.

She jumped, too. She may not have survived the fall, herself. Maybe that's the idea. She knew how we would die and she would have rather chosen a different method.

As if Dr. Chekhov or any of the other personnel cared as long as we ceased to be. They would find our bodies and erase any trace of them, or use any of our remaining DNA to create new versions of us.

That frustrated me as well.

Any of the possibilities were frustrating.

Velvet, you better be alive so I can come over and kick your ass.

Engulfing darkness made up my surroundings, not unlike the structure of the surface.

Think, Mavis. This place is like a maze. You already know the map of the base on the surface. Just imagine something similar.

With my hand against the wall, I made my staggered trek through.

Just a few paces further and piercing through my hand came a thin blade with the equal measure silence and speed of a stealth jet.

Tears began to well up in my eyes and I couldn't help myself but let out a yelp. Blood dripped down and I knew that if I were to move further, I'd have to pry it out. I bit my lips and with my other hand, pulled the one that was stuck out from the trappings of the blade.

I could feel my hand, now with a hole in the middle, pulsating. Blood continued to drip out and leak on the floor. I watched the single blade poking out from the wall, mocking me, letting me know it got the best of me.

There may be more to come. Maybe I never left my execution. Maybe many more blades will appear and I will be hacked to bits. Maybe this whole area is one large ETNAvator.

Blood continued to drip from the hole in my palm. I tried covering the wound with my other hand, though the blood continued to leak out and onto the floor. Groans and moans escaped from my lips as my breath was heavy, and at once, I let out another yelp.

Just as I did so, the tight corridors and hallways lit up and the rushing of boots stomping across the floors could be heard. I knew it wouldn't be long. They were sending soldiers after me. Folks I may have once been familiar with, or folks I never knew but who I shared allegiance with.

I kept my hand covered and did what I could to run, turn the corner, and take cover behind a wall. I bit my lip, though I also wish my bloodied hand would just dry up already so I could use my good hand to cover my mouth.

Or, what I wouldn't give to have a third arm. Or many arms. Maybe I could find a little lab somewhere in these halls where I could build a robotic arm. Many robotic arms, in fact. I could be like Doctor Octopus, only sexier and more flair.

Sad to say, there was no door to a lab nearby, and all I had was a corner that I was pinned to. While those brutish soldiers in their heavy armor may have been dumb, I had doubts that my luck would allow me to slip past them.

...But my luck did allow me a monitor with a built-in computer in the wall.

I couldn't help but grin, all in spite of the wincing from the pain.

“Now we're in business.”

There wasn't quite like being in control of a situation, and once I saw some loose wires, I did a bit of digging with the mainframe and launched a virtual keyboard on the screen.

As I crunched in some commands here and there, did my best to see what was available to me, I could hear the running of the soldiers getting closer. I knew my time was thin.

With a hit of an enter key, turrets popped out of the ground and with another string of commands, I set them to fire at the oncoming soldiers. I couldn't help but let out a maniacal laugh.

“Nothing personal! Y'all would've done the same!” I gloated, quivering with laughter, but felt the sharp pain reach me and had to stop myself. “Ow.”

I watched, my laughter dissipating and turning to mush. My face was a grim reminder of what kind of technology our military had invented; as the hundreds of rounds of bullets threw themselves at the soldiers, I watched the artillery fall to the floor, bouncing off of the armor and the soldiers giving little reaction.

Was my intelligence really so useless? I thought of running, but then realized I would be caught in the line of fire. Still, I had to get past those soldiers somehow.

Once again, I typed away at the computer, scrambling to find a winning combination.

“What do you mean 'access denied'?!”

I froze. So too, the computer. It folded over and faded into the walls.

“No! No! No! Come back!” I slammed my elbow against the wall only for fizzled feelings in the funny bone.

No good. No good at all. Soldiers would be closing in any minute. Some of them possibly former comrades. Shouldn't I have known if that was the case? I watched over all of them, I was the eyes and ears. Yet in the situation I found myself in, I knew not of this underground location. No prior signals. No map in my head. No access to the systems down here.

Behind me, over my shoulder, a vent.

Although I knew better, knew for a fact that many traps may await, I knew no other option. I wasn't athletic, nor had the finesse of Velvet. I couldn't have slid underneath them amongst the commotion.

I never needed to be. I had control. I knew what I was dealing with. Here, I don't.

Split-second, massive bodies with their massive advanced armor and heavy artillery. Split-second was all it took to act; undid the grating and closed up the cover, then crawled upward. My body slunk, a worm or a caterpillar upon the intestinal shaft of a ventilation shaft. Cover fell, the sound of metal spinning and falling onto the floor was heard.

Why?

None of this was my fault. I was secure. Those invaders. I would have still been in control, yet due to an outside, unknown force, all of this is coming down.

Something I should have known about. I should have known about it all but I didn't and now I'm here and why?

I continued to crawl through, my hand still throbbed. Hole where my palm should have been. I couldn't have held it anymore, however. Enclosed within the tight and cold metal space.

Did I ever think of myself as claustrophobic before?

All I could do was crawl. All the pain had to be endured, arms ahead of me. While moving forward, I thought of all the things I still knew: I knew that miles ahead was another base and if I could make it up to the surface alive and outside, I would be free. I knew that I was in a dire situation. I knew that Sgt. Michaels, Pvt. Goodwill, and others had all been replaced and memories altered, exaggerated, time and time again. I thought of myself as too aware to be one of them. I knew that the ETNA Corporation funded the military and the ETNA Corporation was a front for an even higher organization. I knew how to code, I knew how to type. I knew my hair was b...

Bruised?

Accept me, a voice whispered from within.

Leg hit, thud against the side of the vent wall. Shot forward, behind me. Thorn? Sharp blades? Either way, pain. Intense, unbearable, pain.

I wanted to cover my mouth, I wanted to bite my lip, but it still escaped me: a thunderous, piercing scream. Just as the claw (?) pierced me.

This should not have happened. None of this should have happened. I did not deserve any of this. This is all Velvet's fault. If she hadn't appeared, I would have been aware of those amphibious abominations. I should have been prepared for multiple fronts.

My eyes welled up. My leg refused to budge. I wriggled, feeling more and more like a bug.

My screams. The soldiers below must have heard me.

No.

Bent, pain rushed, feeling the fluids flow from the punctured leg, I managed to reach the source and raise my leg up.

This is a bad idea. You are smarter than this. If you leave the wound open, you may die of blood loss.

It was past the point of clarity.

As I pried my leg, the voice I heard once grew more intense.

Embrace me. Allow me inside.

I shook off the thoughts, whatever such things may have been.

After managing to break my leg free, I felt the source: a thick blade, shaped like a fang.

Inside of you, the voice continued to croon against my ear. No, in my head. Somewhere. It was so familiar.

I took the base of the blade in my palm, the single functioning one, and gripped it tight, pulling until a chunk of it tore off. My leg, torn up, off to the side, dripping and flowing blood. So wet.

So wet.

Heavy, weighted breath.

With blade in tow, I slammed it against the walls of the vent and tore through it, using the metallic wall as a cover as I fell through and onto the floor, landing on top of a soldier. I was far from the turret, though I could still see it, having run empty of ammo and now standing there like a patient dog.

While true I could feel the surging pain, I took it and transferred it over to the soldier I landed on top of; with a scream, I plunged the blade into the soldier's helmet, slamming it down over and over, crushing the skull.

There were two others who stood, drawing forth their weapons. I glared at them and screamed once more a shrill scream, enough to alarm a full horde of guards. They could all come over and if so, they could and would all understand.

“YOU ARE NOT IN CONTROL HERE! I AM IN CONTROL!” I belted out, my voice in such a shriek that I could feel my jawline bleeding. Deep down, I knew my vocal cords were in as much pain as I.

Before either could fire, I lunged at one soldier with the blade, thorn, whatever it was that I held, firm in my grasp, and drove it into the skin of the gun they carried. I took a leap back and watched as the weapon exploded, just as the two soldiers had. Human parts as well as armor parts scattered onto the floor. Gratuitous celebration of my feat went underway. All I could do was laugh until I sobbed.

Then I collapsed.

Beside me was the helmet of one of the guards. I could see my face reflected in it. I was in tatters, yet I was still intact. My lips, cracked, could still form a smile. My hair...red?

No. It's blue. I know this because I dyed it myself. It used to be...auburn? Cerulean? Cherry? Turquoise? Vio...

Why couldn't I remember this basic detail?

Brown. Simple brown. Flea. Recluse. Ticks. Itch.

My hair.

I grabbed a strand. Red.

But how?

It felt wet, but I couldn't tell why. The answer was close and yet it must have been elsewhere. If I could pick myself up, maybe I would know myself just a little more again.

I could pick myself up by my feet, though I still limped. Couldn't trust the walls. Couldn't trust the floors. Temporary weapon, no more.

No sounds of footsteps. Time kept escaping me. I tried to count each second to tell how fast or slow I was going but kept losing count, my thoughts having pervaded me. My vision, fading. My leg, soaked with my own blood.

Turned through hall.

Hall met me.

I met hall.

Continuous, labored breaths. Moans every two steps.

Velvet, the truth is, I envied you. Was that the truth? Was I just saying that so I could survive the ordeal I was in? Each step, pain endured, thoughts continued to cut.

I'm you, but better. No, I'm me. I'm me, not you. You're you, but worse. I'm the you that you should have been. But I'm the me that I am because I am the best me.

I shook my head. I should have been. I was supposed to be.

“You will die of blood loss if your wounds are left untreated,” the familiar husky and sultry voice of a hollow program echoed beside me. I turned around to see who I knew I would see.

“Etna,” I groaned. “What are you doing here?”

Her tall, slender figure floated off the floor. She smiled and pushed her glasses up before addressing me further.

“I exist here, as I do most places capable of holding me,” her eyes scanned my across my frame, from top to bottom, bottom to top, then her smile grew wider. “My, you're wet.”

“Blood.”

“Such a delicious scent,” she crooned.

Disgusting.

“What do you want? Were you sent here to make sure I die?”

She smiled once more, slid off her glasses and put them in her labcoat pocket. I watched her form shift from that of a scientist and one in a mink fur coat. At once, many blades, poles with metal tips, and saw blades shot through the walls and went through her. She continued to smile the whole time. No pain at all. Of course, a hologram.

I jumped all the same, fell on my bum and crawled back before mustering up the courage to face her once more.

“Is that what you're going to do to me?”

The weapons disappeared, having retracted back into the walls.

“Is that what this all is?” I repeated. “You're going to slice me up like one of your elevators?”

She shook her head, her smile never faltered. It was a slight one, an image of kindness on her face and not the playful maliciousness that I as well as the rest of the government that worked with her knew her to be.

“Let me guess: Dr. Chekhov sent you to finish the job because he just couldn't do it?”

“No, I move on my own accord.”

“But he created you, no?”

“In one memory, another two scientists known as Dr. Laharl and Dr. Vyers created me.”

“So which is it?”

“It matters not how I came into being. The fact of the matter is that I exist.”

Shivers reverberated my entire being.

“Just tell me if you're going to kill me.”

“While true that your continued existence would be seen as problematic,” she shook her head once more, smiling, stroking her hair as if it were her ego. “In reality, whether or not you make it out alive is of little consequence.”

“Bullshit!” I protested. “You need me dead to replace me!”

She projected an image before me. Video feed of me, sitting at my desk, in my little room. Was this of the past?

No. Sgt. Michaels and Pvt. Goodwill were in their usual positions, but there was one I hadn't seen before.

“GOOD MORNING, MAVIS! SO HAPPY TO TALK TO YOU!” Yelled the voice of an enthusiastic stranger, posing as someone who belonged there.

I could hear myself responding to this stranger, telling of a headache I had.

“This is live,” she informed me.

“How? No! I'm here! I'm alive!”

“And? Has that ever made a difference?”

She floated closer to me, leaned down and placed her palm on my cheek. I knew she wasn't there, physically, yet I could feel her. It was a warm, tingling sensation. Pleasurable. Wrong.

“You are already there. Diligent in your duty. Playing the role you were meant to play.”

“So if I were to die...”

“You would still exist. So no need to worry.”

She could try to reassure me, soothe me, but it still felt wrong.

“Who was that other person? Who were they before?”

She looked away, as if a blush had spread across her face and she was trying to avoid embarrassment.

“I think I had a certain bond with that person once...”

Blegh. I coughed to show my disgust. Blood spilled out amongst saliva. That didn't look very good. My mouth grew sour.

Something didn't add up. I didn't know what, but if she was here...

“I never went to get those check-ups! There shouldn't be a new me!”

“We have backups. Do you know how many times you have existed? Are you aware of your memories?”

What were those? Memories? Facts? They should have been facts. Knowledge. I should know myself, damn it!

The images on the screen changed to that of someone from below emerging to talk to that unknown soldier. Emergent figure addressed themselves as 'Major Spoilers'.

“As you can see, we're dealing with our own set of problems right now,” Etna explained. The image shifted to one of a city where absolute chaos had erupted. Citizens screaming with glee. One making a declaration that running red lights made them happy as they crashed their car into another. In the vehicle, the other made such bold claims that traffic collisions was a lifelong goal.

“An intruder found a flaw of sorts in our system. We were doing such a marvelous job quelling the masses, yet all it took was one human, having overdosed on trips to our ETNAvators and falling into trauma for it all to spread like a virus.”

“Are you afraid this will happen to me?” I found myself asking. As much as I didn't want it to happen, the words were there. Deep down I knew that I knew nothing. I knew less than those didn't know what I knew. Whoever I was before and whoever I am now, I may have never known.

She stood up, took a step back and allowed a blade to draw forth from the wall and touch the tip of her finger, having raised her hand into the air. There was a dot on the index finger. Red sliver, a droplet.

“Blood,” I heard myself remark.

She took her finger and placed it in her mouth, her tongue visible for me to see, as if a sort of taunt. Frozen, I watched her lick her finger, then, she lowered her hand.

“It would be disastrous, however,” her smile grew to a devilish grin. “Aren't you curious?”

I picked myself up, as hard as it had been, I knew I had to stand in defiance. For whoever I was, or whoever I had been.

“I have already gotten through your death traps! I've escaped the destruction of the base, I will live in spite of whatever you throw at me!”

“Ah, yes. You sought help through that hacker, Velvet. The better half.”

“Screw you!”

“She helped you survive. You should be grateful. Then again, she also left you to die.”

“She also left herself to die! Do you really think she survived that?”

“My knowledge has a wide reach. How do you know she didn't know this area? She could be running around right now, already on her way out. As you know, she broke in and out once. Who's to say she couldn't do it again?”

“So why push me?”

“You were dead weight to her. You know that already. If you had the chance, you would have killed her, just as she you. Or is she you? Are you her?”

“Circumstances. Things change.”

“Yes, some things do. But some remain the same. How do you think she knew such an area so well? Such secrets, so well kept? You're better than you know. You know how difficult it would be to learn an area that is ever changing. Unless...you've lived it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean nothing. But isn't it a curious thing that she would return here? You agree, don't you? She shouldn't have done that. But something must have been calling her. Something in her memories? Whether she makes it out or not, she shall be the same as you; destined to return, time and time again.”

“But I am me! She is an incompetent --”

“You are who we need you to be.”

I tried lunging at her despite having no weapons. I tried raising my fists, but I just fell through her.

“What will you do when you see her?” She asked, nary a reaction.

“I don't know, but I'll make it out!”

“Then what? You're still bleeding yourself dry. The nearest hospital is over a hundred miles away. I could assist you if you were to experience a certain sense of ecstasy.”

“Screw you! I won't become a slave to you on your life support!”

“As if you weren't a slave before? Of course, you already knew what position you were in. All that mattered was that you had a sense of purpose. I can give that to you once again.”

“I already have one! It's to defy you!”

Her smile never wavered.

“Don't let me down,” her breathy voice filled the air before she disappeared.

I pressed forward.

Spiraled through halls, winded though my breath was, the winding halls did little to slow me down. No danger in sight. At one point, through many moments, minutes, seconds, time fading and passing by, there was but one door. Unlocked, I turned my hand and stepped inside. No one called me there. Just a relief that there would be a change of scenery.

Inside, darkness, though the image of lab equipment strewn. Bulky microscopes and sinks. Tables and cupboards.

Labored steps, I lingered, limping all the while. There was a lone screw on one of the counters. I grabbed it, just in case a lone soldier lie ready to assassinate me.

Useful supplies. There must be something here for me. I could create a gadget or use something for self-defense.

My mind and body wandered across the room until the shifting sound of movement invaded my eardrums. I looked below. Knees, beneath a table.

“P'sst, did'ja bring the munchies?” Hushed whisper, cupped hand, a gremlin in red.

“What?!”

“I said: did you, or did you not, bring some munchies?”

Well, at least one person didn't have to die. I hoped not, anyway.

I didn’t know.

Look, she was probably fine. She knew the area better than I did. I was sure she was more than capable. So, with a shrug, I took my bow and leaped down.

To say everything was a smooth landing would have been like saying this whole trip had been a smooth one. I've not had a single smooth day in the last three days so let's just skip any idea of “smooth” and imagine all the scrapes and bruises that went along with it.

Once at the bottom, I heard the voice, loud and clear.

“GOD DAMN IT, VELVET! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

Good question. I've asked myself that on a daily basis.

I dusted off all the pain I had. There was still one pain I had to address...

“Taking matters into my own hand!” I called back. Dr. Chekhov growled at the other end.

“YOU GOT A DEATH WISH? I WAS TRYING TO MAKE THIS AS PAINLESS AS POSSIBLE FOR YOU TWO, BUT NOW YOU WON'T MAKE THIS OUT UNSCATHED!”

God damn, who spiked his oatmeal? Fucker sure was loud this morning.

“FINE BY ME!” I shouted back.

I looked around and tapped my foot.

“Speaking of oatmeal...”

Sure, Dr. Chekhov could have been the great and powerful Oz, but just like some imaginary wizard, his voice had to come from somewhere, and considering it was especially loud, I had a strange feeling I was close.

Everything was going to shit. I was so ready to have a nice conversation with Dr. Tolstoy, but now I can't even concentrate on anyone but me and the shit Velvet stirred. Such a nasty pot. All I was going to do was fire a laser, environmentally-friendly at that, too, mind you. But no. That can't happen? Why? Because those two got away.

To my side was a cup of tea. Though the bag said Earl Grey, I was thinking Soylent Green.

I took a sip.

Fine. Whatever. Everything was fine and whatever. So they'll both be shot down by a rain of bullets, pierced by stakes, blades, razors, torn to bit with various lasers, set to explode, drone strikes, poisoned. You name it. Those all sounded way too gross. My lasers were way better. I would have done a fine job with my lasers. They were safe. They could eliminate someone on a sub-atomic level. Leave them to be nothing but particles.

But no. Now they would both become a bloody mess and someone would have to clean them up.

I stewed in my thoughts, simmered in my shitstorm. Sure, everything was fine and whatever. Everything was under control, but things could have gone a lot cleaner.

“At least I have happiness...” I let a deep sigh and stirred some sugar in my tea. Although my demeanor would scream anger, when all was said and done, the world was still beautiful.

Until there was a thud on my door. My humble abode.

Someone knocking? At this hour? Was my initial thought. Until it busted open.

I stormed through.

“Velvet? How did you get here?” Dr. Chekhov turned around in his swivel chair, his voice sounding like a child who just pissed in the swimming pool.

“I've got a bone to pick with you!” I pointed.

He smiled, though I knew behind his veneer. Scared, timid, old man. They're so dominant until you actually stand above them.

“I bet you're pretty angry right now,” he crooned an old crow's tune.

“You're goddamn right!” I walked forward. “You never gave me a last meal!”

“...What?”

“You're supposed to give someone a last meal before they die! That's the rules! Now I'm starving and fucking pissed!”

I saw him reach for a button, so I ran over and grabbed his hand.

“No! You! Fucking! Don't!”

“Let go of me!” He groaned.

“Not until you give me some food!”

With my other hand, I pressed my palm against his forehead and slammed it against his console.

“Tell us...what you really want,” he wheezed and made an attempt to sneer. “You must have something else in mind...”

“I WANT ICE CREAM! APPLE PIE! I'M TALKING BURGERS AND FRIES! PIZZA! HOT DOGS! A RED, JUICY STEAK!” I started naming off all the foods I would have loved to eat. “But most of all, I WANT ANSWERS!”

“You can’t fool me,” he hissed. “I know you didn’t just come here on a whim. You already know who we work for, but what I’d like to know is who you work for. Or are you a lone agent?”

That struck a nerve that had no business being struck. Not only was I hungry but I was being beaten on the head with this pedestal talk, just like always. Here I was being misunderstood, yet again, by someone who should have known better.

“EVERYONE THINKS I’M SOME SECRET AGENT, BUT I’M NOT! I’M JUST A COLOSSAL FUCK UP!” I had him pinned, my anger boiling to an edge where I slammed his face repeatedly against his beloved console. “DO YOU THINK I WANTED TO BE HERE? NO! I FUCKED UP MY WAY INTO THIS SITUATION AND I’M JUST TRYING WHATEVER I CAN TO UN-FUCK IT!”

I huffed and puffed.

“But every time I try to come up with a solution, a bigger problem emerges. That’s why I’m here...” I muttered after having drawn a slow, deep breath. After realizing what I had done, I looked away and let go of him, frustrated with both myself and the situation I was in.

“Sorry, I'm not me when I'm hungry.”

He lifted his head, a feeble husk of a man. I noticed a streak of blood across the buttons on his console.

“You want answers, eh?”

I snapped my fingers, still cross with the man.

“Some food would do, too, yes.”

“Fine. Seeing as you won't make it out alive, what's the worst that can happen, right? You really want to know so bad, right?”

Veins on his head spread as if he were an egg about to crack. His eyes bulged and his anxiousness faded to one of madness.

“What do you want to know, m'dear?”

“Okay, first of all, don't call me that. Second of all, what even is this place? I didn't see an airbase at all. Nothing is like what I've known. At times, it's too easy as if I was invited here, other times it's like a torture chamber. Third: what goes into this place? What powers it? How are the ETNA Corporation's elevators powered?”

“Ah, you think they're connected?”

“Will you just answer my questions?”

He moved his arms as if they were all bent, his whole body possessed; contorted, jingled keys, his arms made cracking sounds as he brought his hands upward and raised them to the ceiling.

“People say science and religion can't get along, well who's to say? Just as the cosmos and the stars above, we have yet to experience it all, but lemme tell you, we found some good stuff! The real good stuff! Do you believe in miracles? Because I believe in new discoveries. Lights at the end of tunnels. Advancements in technology. Do you wish to live forever? Or live never? Either way, we all got that wish, an itch, don't we?”

If I wasn't pissed off before, I sure was now.

“I'm talking angels, baby! The whole world is full of miracles and we found one at our fingertips! Angels fuel our every desires, bring us what we need. Yes, and we have the ETNA Corporation to thank for such a discovery. Yes, you were correct. Yes, angels are everywhere and bless everything.”

“How do angels factor in?”

“Just one angel, but angels are everywhere! We have done our research! An angel that can be every angel, grant everything, just say the word! Logic, illogic, science, reason, we got it! Every single person here's got a little bit of angel in 'em! Every wall, every computer! We took a bit of an angel and spread that bit across every corner, breaking down the structure and replicating it until we could do as we pleased! Do you know what I'm talking about?”

“...No.”

“Happiness, baby! It's the same thing everyone wants!”

I just want food, dammit.

“It's what drives the world, and we'll give it to 'em! Our military has great weapons, big muscles and we love to flex 'em. We flex whenever we go around and start wars, conquering the globe, little by little, no regard.”

“Weird flex, but okay.”

“Oh, but others want peace! That's no problem! If peace makes others happy, they will get peace!” He started jolting in his seat. “War makes us happy and peace makes the ones calling us out happy! You say it's a contradiction? I call it the epitome of happiness!”

This was going nowhere. I opened a drawer and noticed a thing of lipstick. I shoved it in his mouth and slammed his face down once again. This time, with greater force.

“Shut up! You're no help at all!”

His neck made a snapping sound and his tongue slid out of his mouth, eyes ceased to move. He made gagging motions, but after a while, those stopped too. I stopped and stared.

“...Did I just kill him?”

I paced around his room.

“Crap, crap. I did NOT mean to do this! I had a very simple goal, and this was NOT part of it!”

I continued to pace and contemplate what I should have done next.

“Okay, think. You've killed before. Okay, but it was mostly indirectly. You've never like, been this brutal, have you? Ugh...” I started pulling hair out.

“You know, this is all your fault,” I pointed at the lifeless scientist. “If you had given me a cup of ramen. No, scratch that. You could have just explained what was going on without rambling about angels like a lunatic!”

I shook my head and continued to pace. Why was I getting mad at a dead person, let alone someone I killed?

“Think, think...”

My stomach gurgled and growled the deathliest growl I had heard from it in a while.

The only solution I could think of was to make a run for it.

Before I could exit out the door, I heard a voice escape from his mouth.

“So glad you survived,” the voice croaked. It didn't sound at all like Dr. Chekhov's. More of someone much older yet much more childish. “I couldn't think of a better way to celebrate.”

I watched as the tongue moved on its own and burrowed its way into the mouth and pulled out the thing of lipstick, then spit it out. The tongue crept up the face, expanding, until it rolled up each eye and swallowed them.

“Who, no, what are you?” I gave the voice an audience.

“I wanted so bad to meet you. Perhaps if you find me an angel, we could be like brother and sister.”

I was getting some rather unchill vibes.

“You may call me Markov, sounds like the doctor, yes?”

Rather than answer, I made a run for it and slammed the door behind me. After all, death by anything else would have been better than that display.

So I ran through the halls, ribcage hurting, my conscious weighing, thinking about what I had done and what I had encountered.

There were two things I needed now, in no particular order: food and a place to hide.

[thorne93]

Curious Conundrum (Part 17)

Prompt: You’re John Watson’s sister. One day you decide to visit your brother for lunch, only to meet the infamous Mr. Holmes…

Word Count: 1935

Warnings: language, flirtation, sexual innuendos (maybe? idfk), murder/crime/case related stuff, angst, jealousy…

Notes: Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong Not only did she beta, but I literally couldn’t have written half these scenes without her help. She contributed majorly, even wrote some parts of scenes. I am forever in her debt.

Also, this starts AFTER Season 2, episode 1. I don’t follow all the episodes, but it does follow the timeline and hit some major events : )

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

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The anniversary had definitely taken a backseat, what with Sherlock headlining here and there, getting awards, presents, and rewards from every case he helped. He couldn’t care less, but you knew John liked the (somewhat) glorification.

But then Moriarty had downright shocked you as he somehow managed to break the case to the crown jewels. He was, of course, arrested. But he had some form of plan. What was it? That’s what was eating all three of you alive.

You were less concerned with how, and more concerned with why he wrote “Get Sherlock” and what the end game was.

Six grueling weeks later and Sherlock was called to trial as a witness. Both you and John accompanied him.

“Remember,” you tried to say and he cut you off.

“I know.”

You let out a breath of frustrated air. “Sherlock, this is serious. Moriarty is not to be fucked with, you know this. Don’t--”

“Don’t do anything like myself. Don’t provoke them. I know.”

You closed your eyes, knowing it was useless.

Before the trial, Sherlock went into the bathroom and you waited outside for what seemed like forever before he finally emerged.

“Bloody hell, did you fall in?” you demanded.

“Sorry, had to deal with a flirting fanatic,” he noted.

“You... What?!”

But Sherlock calmed you down by shrugging it off, and of course, he had to enter court. Sherlock had asked you to tune into your deduction skills and watch all over the courtroom while he took the stand.

When it was all said and done, you three went over the facts, walking back into the flat.

“...Three of the most secure places in the country and Moriarity broke into them and no one knows how or why. All we know is--”

“He ended up in custody,” Sherlock finished.

“Don't do that,” John slowly requested.

“Do what?”

“The look?”

“What look?”

“You’re doing the look again?”

“Well I can’t see it, can I?”

John gestured to the mirror. “My face?” Sherlock asked, completely confused.

“Yes, and it’s doing a thing. It’s doing that ‘we both know what’s really going on here face’.”

“Well, we do,” Sherlock insisted.

“No, I don’t, which is why I find ‘the face’ so annoying.”

You’d been gripping your head in frustration before you finally snapped, “Oh for God’s sakes! If Moriarty wanted the jewels he would have them. If he wanted the prisoners free, they would be. The only reason he’s sitting in a cell is because that’s what he’s chosen. So now the question is why. Why does Moriarty want to be behind bars? What’s the point? What’s the end game?”

By the end of your rant, you’d begun to pace.

“Y/N’s right, it’s part of his scheme,” Sherlock agreed.

At this, the three of you continued to mull over the “why”... Sherlock the most concerned with it.

-----------------

John went to the trial, to hear the sentence. Sherlock waited at home. You were actually doing your real job, busy at a trial of your own, but your mind was never far away from your boyfriend. You were nervous as hell, but you were sure they would find him guilty. How could they not?

But then the horrible news that he was found not guilty rocketed you into another dimension. John had called you after he called Sherlock. His voice was full of panic.

“What do you mean they found him innocent?!” you shrieked as you were on recess for your own trial.

“I don’t know. But they did. He’s coming for Sherlock, I know it. The bastard just hung up on me though.”

You tried to even out your breathing. “Okay, that’s okay. If Sherlock knows this, he has a plan.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“I know Sherlock and I know he weighed and thought about every possible outcome. If Moriarty is coming for him, he’ll be ready. In the meantime, I gotta go. Keep me updated.”

You ended the call and went back to your trial. When it was done (and you’d won the case), you raced to Sherlock’s flat where he was explaining everything to John. Apparently Moriarty had come by the apartment and had a little chat with him. Of course it was a threat, but none of you knew what the hell it meant or could possibly mean.

You and Sherlock seemed to spend the better part of two months going over anything he could be plotting. Romance, the anniversary, the relationship as a whole went on the back burner. All efforts and focus was either on Moriarty or an active case.

Then suddenly, a kidnapping case had come about. Sherlock was nearly giddy with glee as it seemed to be a rather curious case indeed. As luck would have it, you were with him when Donovan and Lestrade presented the case to him. You, John, and Sherlock were driven to the site of the abduction.

You watched Sherlock work (an aphrodisiac for you). He startled the nanny, and then graciously told her he believed her story and requested someone get her a bag to breathe into. The sheer confidence of the ordeal was enough to make you smirk appreciatively.

Donovan caught your approving face and skipped up next to you.

“You think him being a complete ass and scaring poor old women is funny do you?”

Your face lost all trace of humor, and anger ignited inside you. “I think Sherlock getting the job done as quickly as possible is good, yes. Or was that not the point? To get to the children as quickly as possible.”

“He sure has a funny way of going about it,” she muttered snidely.

“At least he doesn’t fuck around while on the job, literally. How is Anderson’s wife by the way?” you asked, turning to face her as you walked backward. A mischievous grin played on your face as you twiddled your fingers in the air at her like a wave before turning to follow Sherlock into the house.  

Watching Sherlock work, you remained silent. It was best not to speak while he was “in the zone” unless asked. He found a bottle and requested for Anderson. Anderson came and prepared the room for black light analysis. Without fail, Anderson gave a brilliant impression of a moron, to which Sherlock told him so.

He found some samples of the kidnappers boots that he said would behave like a map for them. Which would be true. Scraping some samples and the three of you rushing to St. Barts, Sherlock began his analysis, dragging Molly into it as well.

Every time you were around Molly, it was….strained. You knew she had known him longer than you had, you knew she had feelings for him -- still, and she stayed in line, not trying to cross the line of friendship with Sherlock. Yet every time you were around her, there was a touch of awkward tension in the air. Part of you respected her for being an adult, part of you didn’t like Sherlock around her because you knew of her feelings, and another part of you felt entirely sorry for her.

It must be one hell of a thing to watch the man you carry a torch for love another. Even if you and Sherlock never showed any sort of public affection, even if you kept it strictly professional while working a case, the fact remained that you were his and he was yours. This fact was glaring just by the looks you two shared, the way his gaze would linger on yours.The way he would shoot you a knowing smirk. The way he commended your deductions.

So now, you stood with John, helping him on some of the tests when Molly suddenly struck up a conversation with Sherlock that wasn’t science related.

“What did you mean ‘I owe you’?” she asked as she worked. Sherlock stopped his movements and you did too. You couldn’t help but listen in. “You said ‘I owe you’ while you were working,” she noted.

“Nothing,” he quietly said, shutting the topic down.

“You’re a bit like my dad. He’s dead. No… sorry--” she tried, realizing the social awkwardness of her statement.

“Molly, please don’t feel the need to make conversation, it’s really not your area,” Sherlock advised.

She made a face, a nervous, but bold face. “When he was dying, he was always cheerful. Lovely, except when he thought no one could see. I saw him once, he looked sad.”

Sherlock gave her a warning. “Molly…”

“You look said,” she continued, ignoring his tone of caution, “when you think they can’t see you.”

Both of their gazes flashed to the two of you, but you made quick work to shift your own eyes and make your hands start fiddling about.

“Are you okay? Don’t just say you are, because I know what that means when you think no one can see you.”

“You can see me,” he noted.

“I don’t count,” she commented, and a pang of sympathy washed through your chest for her. “What I’m trying to say is, if there’s anything I can do, anything you need, anything at all. You can have me.”

Red shot into your cheeks as you kept your face down, still pretending to work.

“No, what I mean is... I just mean... If there’s anything you need… It’s fine,” she stammered, ending her olive branch speech.

“But what could I need from you?” Sherlock asked and his tone made it clear that he would never need her.

“Nothing,” she replied, sorrow in the back of her voice. “I don’t know. But you could probably say thank you.”

Sherlock stuttered a thank you and she quickly exited the lab. Standing for a moment, you weren’t sure what to do. You wanted to talk to Molly, but on the other hand it would be best if you left it alone. Your tenacity got the better of you and you put your tools down, following her out into the hall.

“Molly,” you called, jogging to catch up to her.

She spun and faced you, not saying a word. You knew she didn’t like you, at all. She was polite to you around Sherlock because of him and John, and because she’s a nice person. But you knew if she could have a wish, it would be to get you out of the picture.

But that wasn’t the case. You were here to stay, and Molly needed to realize what her place was in Sherlock’s life.

You pressed your lips into a flat line as you peered at her, her waiting for you to say something.

“Look... I… I know you love him,” you started and she seemed to stiffen, probably awaiting you to demonize her. “I know how hard this must be for you. I wanted to let you know I appreciate you being an adult about this. And I really appreciate you not crossing that line and trying to be something more.”

Your gaze held hers for a second, a hardness settling into your eyes, while the rest of your face remained soft. “He doesn't have many friends, and it’s nice to know you’re there for him and support him.” You reached up and gripped her arm gently, a reassuring squeeze coming from you. “He and I are lucky to have you in our lives.”

Molly nodded, staying quiet a long time. “I--I--Yeah, you’re welcome.”

You smiled at her, the grin loaded as you let her go. Her gaze lingered on you a moment longer before she walked off to the cafeteria.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[artificialqueens]

Pink Sandcastles Pt. 2 of 2 (Trixya) - VonChoke

Summary: Trixie Mattel is a popular YouTube travel vlogger. When she receives an invitation to stay at a resort at La Union, Philippines, she had no idea that this particular trip would help her find out what home really means.

*She’s complete!!!*

Read part 1 on Tumblr Read part 1 on AO3

“Let me get this straight,” Kim said testily on the other side of Trixie’s laptop screen the next morning. Today she had white highlighting foundation that she has not yet blended in due to Trixie’s timely interruption again. “You were invited to La Union to review the beach and the resort there, but the real reason was Katya used her resort to lure you there and get closer to you?”

“Seems like it,” Trixie huffed.

“But you just found out last night from a comment on one of Katya’s IG pics that she’s in a relationship with, your words, a gorgeous, skinny burlesque star?”

“Exactly.”

“And how did you discover this?”

“I was checking Instagram on my way back from the bathroom and the first thing I saw was Katya’s newest post. Then I read someone named Violet Chachki commented ‘miss those hands on me babe’ on it and… ugh.”

“What fucking rom-com shit are you living in?”

“Goddamnit I know right!” she almost yelled, burying her face on her hands. “I didn’t even know she was flirting with me since VidCon and I don’t know if I might have accidentally flirted back!”

Kim snorted. “You dense idiot,” she said. There was a beat of silence and then, “So what are you going to do about it?” Another pause. “Have you guys talked yet?”

Trixie sighed, brushing back a pink strand away from her mouth. “Not yet.” As she said it, a notification lit up her phone’s screen. It was one of eight she has not replied to yet. “Katya’s uh… inviting me to brunch. She said she’s serving pancakes and a full explanation.”

Hopefully the whole story instead of the basic gist she was served last night; After Katya’s quiet confession that she was in a long distance relationship with another (way more gorgeous) person, Trixie felt completely embarrassed for believing she was getting to the big time for having someone personally invite her, all expenses paid, to another country for a free stay at their resort because she delivered quality YouTube content. Looking around at the silent group around her, she felt deeply mortified that they probably knew that Katya had taken a huge amount of effort to basically get some pussy. She wasn’t even someone worth seducing, what the hell? Her pride in her work was hurt so she quickly faked an upset stomach, excused herself, and ran back to her room.

“I really don’t know what to do, Kim,” she groaned.

“Well,” Kim said slowly. “How do you feel about Katya?”

Trixie dug deep into her mind. She and Katya well… clicked. Like two hurricanes merging into one destructive force. She does like Katya as a friend, but realizes that she knows nothing else behind the macabre and filthy humor and wide smile. Come to think of it, what sort of place does the dark humor come from?

“I… care for her,” Trixie finally said. “As a great friend. Other than that, I don’t know anything else about her. We don’t talk much about our past. Because when we’re together, it’s like… nothing else matters? I don’t even think about my own shit. I forget everything and only enjoy my time with her.” She locked eyes with Kim. “That’s weird, isn’t it?”

“Ehhhh yeah,” said Kim. “But that’s probably a good place to start.”

“I’m going to meet her for brunch, aren’t I?” Trixie said, looking lost. “Because I really don’t know what else to do.”

“Come up with a list,” the Asian girl prompted whenever a friend needed direction. “Three things.”

“Okay,” Trixie breathed, sitting up. “One, talk to Katya. Two, decide what to do from there. And three… Oh right fuck. Vlog.”

“That’s a plan.” Kim smiled.

“It’s a plan. Thanks Kim, I’ll see you around.”

After disconnecting the call, Trixie sat back on her chair and allowed her mind to wander out the window. What exactly does she want with Katya? She wasn’t even sure if she wanted a relationship right now with all the traveling she’s planning on doing. During the day, she can freely say that she is self-sufficient and can hold her own without anyone by her side.

But midnight is a different story. Whenever Trixie lays on her pillow to sleep, her caged heart roams free. Like any other lonely person, they’ll never admit that she secretly cries out for a companion and longs to relate to love songs. The yearning filled her with agony sometimes, but she bears with it as she knows it’ll pass the moment she falls asleep. When she goes on through her day, Trixie no longer takes the time to dwell on wanting a romantic partner. Her desire of having someone to kiss and to take care of are buried under a modern day woman’s sensibilities.

She can do this. She’s old enough to know what she wants and which of Katya’s bullshit she’s not willing to put up with.

—————————

“Salamat po,” Trixie quietly thanked the waiter in Tagalog, something Jiggly taught her last night, for laying out her breakfast plate and orange juice in front of her. Across her, Katya had a coffee, a fluffy pastry, an orange, and a cigarette. She too looked anxious.

Trixie ate quietly, using the food as an excuse not to talk first. She didn’t make eye contact, instead looked out to the view of the ocean. When a breeze picked up, she tucked her hair behind her ear.

“I really like your hair,” Katya finally said, getting her attention. Smiling, she added, “It’s like catnip for pussies.”

That seemed to break the ice wall between them. Trixie stared at her for a second in bewilderment and let out a snort and giggle of amusement. She did get a lot of lesbian attention online for her hair. In return, Katya laughed with relief at the reaction and let herself relax. She can do this.

“So… I owe you an apology. I guess wasn’t honest with you in the beginning,” she said.

“Really, you guess?”

“Shut up, Toby, let me be real for once,” Katya said, smirking. Continuing, she stared at a point above her as she gathered her words succinctly. “I… was already interested after we met at VidCon. I wanted to keep what we had going but I didn’t because life happened.”

She waved a hand at the building behind her. “The resort opened and I became extremely busy. Then when I watched your latest Japan vlog, I thought you looked so beautiful and happy and… I kind of missed you? Then I talked to Sasha, we thought that I should invite you here to Elyu so we could… talk more and the rest was history.”

Trixie nodded. Time for her to speak. “I guess I was… hurt. And embarrassed.” To Katya’s subtle questioning expression, she carried on in softer tones. “I thought you invited me here because I make great travel vlogs and wanted the best for your resort.”

“Oh mama, you are the best,” said Katya sincerely as she leaned forward. “I checked out all your videos after we met at VidCon and those are the five pinkest hours of my life I cannot get back.” She was relieved when Trixie let out a trill of giggles. “I’m really sorry for embarrassing you. That wasn’t my intention. I thought this was going to be a great way of getting to know you better but yeah, that was probably a dumb idea.”

“Not entirely,” Trixie said. She looked out to the ocean sparkling under the sun and the carefree shouts of other tourists and breathed it all in. She felt the distance from her drafty little apartment in Chicago stretch all the way here, a sunny and spacious bliss while sitting across a woman who found her weirdness worth the effort to be around.

She held her breath before letting out, “And Violet?”

Lowering her cigarette, Katya gave a small sad smile. “She was on vacation here when we met. It’s an open relationship because she’s always on tour with her troupe and I’m just here. I thought was okay in the beginning because I’m like seven different shades of fucked up and wasn’t sure I could fully commit. Now I don’t know if I should let her go or stay with her cause it was my fucking idea in the first place to ask for more. And god, there were the drugs…”

“Drugs?” This was the first time Trixie heard Katya talk seriously about drugs. She mostly chalked it to her dark humor and never thought it came from a real, scary place. “Oh wow, I didn’t know. I’m sorry I thought you’ve only been joking about those.”

“I wasn’t joking, bitch,” Katya laughed without humor and began peeling her orange. “Although… I do hate being serious all the time. I can’t take life too seriously anymore, otherwise I get sucked back in to the dark.”

“Oh yeah I totally get it. Joking as a coping mechanism. Oh honey, did you have an abusive step-dad too?” Trixie said in her driest tone.

Katya’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, looking as though she didn’t know whether to laugh or not. “W-well, no. I was raised by a team of greasy Taco Bell employees who took me in when I was young,” she said seriously.

“What?” Trixie gaped. How did that even happ—oh, she was kidding. She glared at Katya wheezing in laughter and slapping her knee. “You bitch, I almost believed that,” she cried out, joining her in the hilarity.

“Hidden talent,” Katya cackled. “I swear I am able to drop into the pain of my personal experiences so effortlessly that allows people to believe in my bullshit.”

“Now I’m doubting this entire conversation,” Trixie sniffed before Katya quickly shook her head and sobered up.

“Oh no no, I’m not. Sorry, that’s on me. I need to say something stupid before I get into any serious topics.” She cleared her throat before speaking again. “I’m sorry you had to go through… that. Are you good now?”

Trixie leaned back into her chair and nodded, drawing her eyes downwards. “Yeah, I’m good. I don’t talk about him anymore.” She sighed, letting the moment breathe before bringing the topic back on track. “So, uh… Violet.”

“Right, yeah, Violet,” Katya sadly said. Steeling herself, she continued, “So I thought I was okay with the distance because I believed that Violet didn’t deserve me, didn’t deserve that, didn’t deserve to deal with my problems on top of her touring schedule, airport drama, hotel conflama…”

“So why were you hitting on me then? Why are you still together?” Trixie made an effort to keep her voice steady. Her heart was already smarting for being in the position of ‘second choice’.

“I don’t know. I guess cause you’re you,” Katya said. There was a screwed up expression on her face as she battled her frustrations. “You get my psycho humor. I fall over from your wit. I like who I am around you. And… I’m still with Vi because I’m a fucking coward.

“Do you see the irony, Trix? I hate myself and believe that she doesn’t deserve me, yet I’m still with her because of the stupid fucking hope that she doesn’t see me the same way I see myself.” She drew a breath before continuing, “Would you honestly have given me a chance if I wasn’t with her?” She made a move to grasp Trixie’s hand in sincerity but the younger girl pulled away, frowning. It wasn’t fair that the ball was in her court now.

“Katya, I don’t think you should break it off with Violet just for me if you still want to stay with her,” Trixie slowly said, acknowledging the disappointed expression on Katya’s face. “Plus, I’m only getting to know you a little better now, so I can’t say yet.”

“You’re right.” Katya nodded in understanding, leaning back and sucking on her cigarette. “I’ve been a fucking idiot about this whole thing.”

“Absolutely, yeah.” Trixie’s familiar dry tone was back and it brought a smile to Katya’s face. “Inviting me to a beautiful tropical paradise to seduce the panties off me.” She shrugged. “I’ve had worst dates.”

“I have some work to be done today, but I’ll make it up to you tonight. And I can take you sightseeing tomorrow,” said Katya, sipping her coffee. “So, friends?” She tilted her chin up as she held out her cup. Trixie picked up her half full glass and clinked it.

“Friends.” It was a clean slate to start off from and that she can manage.

—————————

The rest of Trixie’s day was spent outside with camera work where she took more aerial shots of the beach with her drone and the gorgeous people surfing the ocean. She got into work mode as she checked if her “light” and “natural” makeup was still in place to give an on-camera narrative of the authentic and cultured peaceful ambiance of Elyu. She also made sure to get some playful shots for her Instagram Stories.

On her itinerary was to visit and feature Phi Phi’s speakeasy bar on her vlog. While the sun was setting, she made sure to get shots of the tasteful artwork hanging on the walls and interviewed Phi Phi about her collections.

“I love collecting artworks that were made by visitors here at Elyu. Take a look at this. It’s my newest piece. Sasha made it,” said Phi Phi, pointing out a contemporary graphic design of a crown, red lips, and a unibrow. To its right, an abstract piece composed of turquoise, bronze, and gold brush strokes hung near the door. “That one was made by Katya. She said she was inspired by the view of the sea from her office and how it helped relieve some of her anxiety.”

Trixie aimed her camera at the paintings. Through the lens, she stared hard as though hoping to learn something new about the way Katya’s mind worked. She thought she discerned a hopeful beauty and some sort of sadness from the colors and the strokes.

Next she visited Ongina’s place, a small eatery that served a variety of Filipino dishes. Taking the vegetarian option, Trixie dined on sweet and savory marinated fried tofu with green beans. She washed it down with a soda while taking down notes about the place.

“So, have you and Katya talked yet?” Ongina said, leaning her forearms on the counter.

Trixie quirked an eyebrow. “Why is everybody bringing up Katya today?” she said. Ongina shrugged.

“You girls seem close. It would be a shame if your friendship got permanently ruined after last night,” she said while wiping down the bar counter and taking away Trixie’s clean plate. “And it’s nice seeing her in a different mood that wasn’t lovable bitch.”

“So what the hell is she now?” said Trixie after another bubbly sip.

“Still a lovable bitch, but we don’t want to punch her this time,” Ongina said breezily. The pink haired vlogger squawked gracelessly.

Lastly, Trixie took up Jiggly’s offer of a tour of her brightly colored hostel. It was simple in its accommodations yet a favorite for bigger groups that came to visit for its rustic bunk beds and kitschy wall decors. As Jiggly gestured her arms dramatically towards the building, she declared, “Do you know who stayed here for months the first time she was here?”

Trixie snorted. “If the answer is Katya, I’m leaving,” she said dryly. Jiggly was taken aback and dropped her arms. Trixie was about to regret her sass when the hostel owner burst into booming laughter.

“H-how did you know?” she squealed. Trixie grinned apologetically.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude… It’s just that everyone has mentioned her name to me so many times today, I’m starting to get a little suspicious,” she said sheepishly. Jiggly got around to coughing herself into composure and smiled a little guiltily.

“Have we been that obvious?” she asked a little meekly, patting her long straight hair into place.

Trixie nodded. She turned away to look at the hostel with the intention to hide her smirk from Jiggly. She didn’t want to give her and the other girls the satisfaction of knowing that their big plan to keep Katya fresh in Trixie’s mind all day kind of fucking worked.

—————————

The sun had long given away its stunning strokes of orange and yellows clouds, setting a blanket of dusky purple and blue over the beach. Katya had invited Trixie out to a post-dinner walk along the dimly lit beach. It was peaceful, Trixie had thought. Her bare toes enjoyed the feel of the fine sand, something she was not able to tolerate under the heat. There was something to be said about connecting with nature by listening to the waves move in its natural that could melt away the city stress. She glanced sideways at Katya’s profile, admiring the shape of her nose and how her skin looked luminous among the smoke of her cigarette escaping from red lips. It was quite the vision Trixie wanted to capture for her own self and never release such beauty to the world. She contemplated how some people compare themselves to the sun, fiery and outgoing, and how their veiled eyes see the other as the quiet beauty of the moon.

The sea and the sky kissed and blew out a cold breeze that smelled of the salty ocean. Trixie shivered.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked.

“No ma’am. I always stay warm from the fire in my pussy,” Katya replied, grinning proudly around her stick. This earned a Trixie-screech that scandalously broke the tranquil air. There was a beat of silence after she had composed herself that Katya eventually ended.

“Trixie,” she began. “You know why I stayed here?”

“Why?”

“Three years ago, I spent almost all of my savings to check myself into rehab. I had a psychotic mental breakdown that my own parents had to call the police on me because I was running buttfuck naked out of the house.” There was a solemnity in the way Katya spoke about this that Trixie had to stare, wondering if the woman was dead serious or not again.

Katya then opened up about her struggle with drug addiction to a length that she had to light up another cigarette. Trixie held on to every word, determined to better understand her history. Rehab was successful, although the relapses never went away, they were easier to manage.

“So when I got here, it was so different from the city and the suburbs and for the first time in fucking history… My mind went quiet.” She gestured a flatline across her forehead before turning to Trixie. “Have you ever been to a place, in all of your travels, where it felt like all the noise just goes away?”

Trixie smiled with nostalgia. Blue and white villages came to her mind as she remembered the smell of warm flaky pies in the afternoon. “Yeah… It was my third trip, I think. Greece. Like I took off my earphones because I didn’t need the music to stop the noise in my head.”

“I never intended to hang around for long,” Katya continued as she nodded, inhaling her stick. “But I met Karl and Sasha, and we struck a deal together. Made it work. I invested in a share of the resort and it felt like I had purpose again. Also, the locals here? Oh mama, they know how to live life properly.” Trixie nodded silently. She could tell Katya was off to a long ramble by the way her hands began to gesture wildly to punctuate and to emphasize. She found herself not wanting to cease the stream of its course.

“But what I absolutely loved was the people that came to this place. I love the stories they told, I love talking to people, did you know that? Oh my god, the things they’ve seen, all their dreams and fears and shit…

“And then they leave. It’s like reading an anthology. I provided strangers an ear or advice. Sometimes I couldn’t help them and that’s a-okay. It’s like… I get to be the fixed point in their journey where I get to answer some lifelong questions. There were so many lives I learned about—remind me to tell you about Craig, he’s the bestest when it comes to movies—and it’s fucking redonkulous how everything we want in life is rooted to just wanting to be loved. Like in all our searching, the meaning of life comes from each other.”

Trixie folded her arms in contemplation. If travel taught her anything, the most memorable places weren’t about the sights or the food, it was about how open the locals were to connecting with foreigners.

Katya sighed. “And yet, I’m just here.” She waved a vague hand over the beach. “I’ve been here for a long while now and sometimes I feel lost myself. Or cut off from the rest of the world.” She grabbed Trixie’s hand and looked at her straight in the eye. “I’m sorry again for not telling you why I wanted you here. The loneliness was becoming unbearable and everything was empty and my head was becoming chaotic… I think that’s why I contacted you.”

“Maybe you need a new home?” suggested Trixie.

“I think I’ll find home on my own terms,” Katya replied softly.

Trixie frowned in confusion over Katya’s choice of words. What did she mean to ‘find home in her own terms’? In all of her travels, all the places she has visited and documented, has she ever found what home really means? Yet there was something familiar with Katya, in her words, in the scene she described here on the beach, looking out to the horizon—

“BITCH!” Trixie shrieked all of a sudden, stopping her tracks and startling Katya. “WAS THAT CONVERSATION ABOUT THE ‘CONTACT’ BEACH SCENE?!”

She received confirmation when Katya doubled over and began rolling over the sand in soundless laughter, nodding in glee. Trixie stomped away before she could wrap her fingers around her friend’s throat. She yelled that she was going back to her room, leaving Katya to pick herself up when she was done. She wanted to believe that Katya was bullshitting about everything, doubt her sincerity, but deep inside she understood. The search for love is life’s greatest trial that many leave messages to the universe, hoping to hear that they aren’t meant to be alone forever.

Trixie turned to look back the same moment Katya did. It could have been a passing nanosecond fancy, but Trixie swore to the stars above that she felt the phrase “I’m falling for Katya” shake her core. It was a strange feeling, she imagined, to experience a possible concept transition into powerful words. And it made the whole situation scarier now as it was one step closer to solidifying into reality.

She waited for the sense of hopeless despair she usually felt when she catches feelings for someone, but it never came. Instead she felt a glow filling her chest, a thrill that zipped through her nerves and made her gasp softly in surprise at how quick these sensations engulfed her. How does one stand by the ocean and feel like drowning? How does falling for someone feel like flying?

Their eye contact was broken by Katya sheepishly looking away, as though she had realized she had been staring too much. She lit up another cigarette.

“Your an idiot,” Trixie finally said into the silence.

“Yes and?” said Katya, smiling a little.

“And I said ‘you’re’ without the apostrophe r e.”

Katya gasped, eyes sparkling once again in mirth. “You take that back, you uncultured, illiterate, wretched heathen!”

Trixie began to walk back to the direction of the resort, calling over her shoulder with a playful laugh, “You deserve it!”

“I can’t even look at you right now,” Katya hollered, following her footsteps. “How dare yo—this changes everything I feel about you.” Trixie stopped in her tracks and so did her heart. She arched an eyebrow until Katya caught up with her.

“And how exactly do you feel about me?”

Katya blew out a cloud of smoke, appraising her friend for a beat while smirking. Trixie momentarily glanced at her rose red lips that doesn’t blossom open as much as it caterwauled inelegantly throughout the open space that probably needs to be ticketed for disturbing the peace. She could feel the anticipation stretching out, wondering what Katya was going to admit to her under the moon and stars… until the bitch simply winked and sashayed away.

The next morning, Trixie woke up early to catch Vivienne’s surfing lessons. It was a struggle to get out of bed that Trixie had to remind herself that her surfing lesson was also for the vlog. She grabbed her camera that was on her bed side, turned it on, and grumbled into it.

“Hey guys, it’s five in the morning and I have a surfing lesson today.” She rubbed her bleary eyes. “If you like watching me fail at stuff, keep watching because this might be my last video before I drown myself. Or get snacked on by a shark, whichever comes first.”

She turned off the camera and got up. She stretches hard before slowly encasing herself in a long sleeved blue and pink wetsuit that cut off inches above the knee over her swimwear. She met Vivienne right outside the resort, who energetically waved at her in contrast to Trixie’s sleep fuzzy brain. Her wild wavy black hair was tied up in a high bun and Trixie’s brain seemed to jolt awake up at the view of her abs above a pair of black shorts that covered half of her thick thighs. Good morning indeed.

Three hours later of learning the basics and trying to balance on the surfboard, the sun rays were soft and beautiful over the sparkling water and Vivienne’s morena skin. The teacher and student now sat on a low stone barrier facing the shore as Trixie was catching her breath from the session.

She unstrapped the camera from her surfboard. “I had just finished my first surfing lesson here with Vivienne, who is the most patient and wonderful woman to ever teach my ungraceful, clumsy ass,” Trixie said into it. Vivienne waved and smiled as Trixie affectionately laid her stringy wet head on her shoulder.

“She was a natural,” Vivienne said.

“Am I?”

“At wiping out.”

“Bitch,” Trixie laughed. She then gave a narrative of her first time on the board, how she was worried about slipping and hitting her head underwater, and how much fun she had learning despite catching not a single wave. She jumped off the stone barrier to focus her camera for a gratuitous shot of Vivienne’s enviable curves and abs, which she thought deserved a whole post of its own. Vivienne modestly giggled at the attention. Trixie was about to launch into a litany of worship of Vivienne’s hard work when a pair of wide gray eyes suddenly filled the frame. Trixie jumped back with a surprised yelp. “Katya!”

“Morning! I was watching you whores all morning,” she cackled. She was wearing her sunglasses on her head, black shorts, and a red floral silk shirt that had the sleeves folded up to the bicep and the front casually unbuttoned only halfway through, exposing bare cleavage. To cap off Trixie’s raging lesbian fantasies, Katya had her shirt in a French tuck and a motorcycle helmet dangling off her hand. Trixie gaped. The sight was all together stunning and was all too much for one morning.

Vivienne eventually broke the staring contest with laughter and hopped down the barrier to cheek kiss Katya. She gave Katya’s outfit a one over, checked Trixie’s reaction, and winked at the blonde before enveloping Trixie in a proud hug. “I’ll see you girls later! You did a good job today, Trixie.”

“T-thanks Vivienne!” Trixie said, returning the hug and waved as she walked away, picking up Trixie’s rented surfboard along the way. That view was looking good too.

“So,” Katya coughed. “How was it?”

“Hmm? Oh! It was great! I mean I wasn’t that great, but I had fun,” Trixie said in a giddy rush, glancing back at Katya.

There was something sexy about feeling the rush of adrenaline in the early morning and being under the control of someone very attractive in something as temperamental as the ocean. Looking into Katya’s eyes, aglow with the morning rays of light, filled her heart with something that felt like promise and care. Emboldened by her own high spirits, Trixie held eye contact while she unzipped her wetsuit to reveal underneath a green and white polka dotted bikini with a high waist bottom that accentuated her hips. With her pink hair, it was a whole watermelon fantasy and Katya’s raised eyebrows and unbridled smile was the cherry on top. As Trixie walked back to the resort, she called over her shoulder and extended her hand, “Are you coming for breakfast?”

Between two potential lovers, it’s most often that the palms kiss first before the lips do. It was as if Trixie had held out a magnet, and Katya’s own body responded like it were cold hard steel. Her feet quickly shuffled forward as her arm immediately extended to accept the invitation of Trixie’s hand. Both girls discreetly blushed at the new words their bodies just learned and intertwined their fingers together. And neither had let up until they got to their breakfast table.

————

Trixie sighed before sipping her late night cup of coffee at Velour’s. The sun had set, the beach’s nightlife was awake, and here she was waiting for Sasha to finish helping her staff with a large order so she could talk. Tonight, Sasha was wearing glitter red lipstick, an artful eyeshadow, and fake freckles across her nose. The whole look seemed to brighten up the ambiance of the cafe.

“What’s the occasion?” Trixie asked, nodding at the patterned outfit appreciatively as Sasha gracefully took a seat across hers.

“Art gallery viewing at Phi Phi’s. The gallery is called ‘Press and Play: Movement in Flow’. Would you like to come? I’m also hoping to meet potential business partners to expand the cafe,” Sasha replied. Even the way she crossed her legs were elegant. Trixie shook her head in regret.

“I can’t. I have to work on the vlog before I leave tomorrow, see if there’s a scene I might have forgotten to shoot,” she said.

“That’s right, it’s your last night here,” Sasha said in somber tones. “So what did you do today? Vivi told me you went surfing this morning.”

Trixie lit up as she recounted the rest of her day; Katya had taken her on a historical sightseeing tour via her motorcycle. As she spoke of the old churches and an old watch tower leftover from the Spanish occupation era, memories of tightly clinging to Katya’s midsection as the latter’s motorcycle zoomed down almost empty roads surfaced to her mind’s forefront. While she was describing the grape field Katya took her to, she thought of the way the light dappled on the older woman’s face underneath the grape vine leaves and forced her to stop moving so she could take a photo. When she told Sasha about the delicious dinner they had of burgers (hers a vegetarian option) and iced tea on the second floor of a beach front restaurant, all she could think about was how the sound of the waves crashing became the soundtrack of Katya’s wildest life stories, ranging from serious topics about her battle with drug abuse to the nasty and hilarious one of how she had once shat on her friend Courtney’s bed.

She remembered how she had wanted to hold Katya’s hand again while they were walking but chickened out, so she compensated by leaning her head on her shoulder while they rested. Or she swears that Katya had been staring because when she looked back, Katya quickly turned her head to the other direction. She recalled shivering whenever Katya leaned in closely to whisper something in her ear.

This woman had no shame in her being. Her unfiltered words, her animated expressions with her freedom to be. It enamored Trixie. Like the ocean they were facing, she felt unlimited. In that moment, she believed that a lot of things didn’t matter anymore just as long Katya kept her eyes bright with her enthusiasm of discussing whatever topic came to her head.

“Trixie?” Sasha punctured her thoughts. “Trixie, are you okay?”

“I think I like her,” Trixie said simply after a long pause. Sasha raised her eyebrows and her mouth fell open in delight.

“Do you really?” she gushed.

“I do.” Trixie smiled bashfully, glancing at Sasha’s little head tilt of interest.

“Have you told Katya that?” she said, chuckling.

Trixie nodded. “I did. She was talking about… God, I can’t remember now… But it was about something and she was stuttering like an idiot, trying to get her words right and… I just laughed. And when she asked what was I laughing at, I was like ‘Nothing, I just really like you.’”

Sasha gave a little gleeful gasp and a grin that stretched all the way across her face. “And then what did she say??”

Trixie shrugged, grinning. “She looked shocked, then happy. Like really happy.”

“Sooo what happens now?” Sasha prompted. She delicately laid her chin on the back of her hand and patiently waited for an answer. Trixie huffed, glancing at the shore as though hoping the answer to that would walk by.

“I don’t know…” she sighed. “Whatever I say to her, it’s not going to change the fact that I’m leaving tomorrow. Plus, she’s still with Violet so it’s not like my feelings are going to matter, doesn’t it?”

“Oh I think it will. Where is Katya anyway?”

“Her office. Said she had some business to get done first,” said Trixie. She finished the last sip of her coffee and was about to take out her wallet to pay when Sasha waved it off.

“On the house,” she said, smirking at Trixie’s surprise. “It’s your last night here and you’ve made my friend very happy these past few days. Just promise me one thing.”

“What is it?”

“Tell Katya your truth.”

Trixie sighed. “But I’m not sure what is the truth…” she said. Sasha waved a finger.

“No. Not the truth,” she repeated. “Your truth.”

———

It was nearing midnight. The rest of her evening had been spent answering emails and sorting through her pictures and videos from the time she left the airport to the latest ones she took earlier today. She organized them by day and sub-labeled them by activity, knowing full well that if she did this after she got home, she’d be too exhausted to even start it. For the first time in her travel history, she made a new folder for one person.

Trixie rubbed her eyes from underneath her glasses. She knew she had snapped Katya in more artful shots, but she hadn’t realize just how much she took all in all. There was one from her first night with Katya’s other friends drinking, and she used the light nearby to give Katya an almost noir look with the wispy cigarette between her fingers. Scrolling down, she perused a goofy one of Katya; jaw wide open in mid-shriek and her eyes squinted close. She forgot the joke that was said but she can almost hear the breathless wheezing laughter coming from the picture.

The last one took her breath away, the one from the grape field. The shadows of the leaves played around her face and to her chest as her lips were closed around a grape. Trixie shook her head, trying to fight off her bubbling feelings for the woman she was going to leave tomorrow.

It was truly better off they stay friends, Trixie was thinking. The spaces in her mind cautiously played out a daydream, one where she imagined being Katya’s girlfriend, holding hands with her and traveling the world together. It was a pleasant feeling, knowing that someone will always be there to fly alongside with her. But the moment she imagined kissing Katya, she could feel herself flush and quickly shut the daydream down. It was way too good. Reality was going to be a bitch to face had she let it play out.

Trixie heard knocking on her door. Her gut already told her who was on the other side as she swung the door open. She was right.

“Hi. Can I come in?” Katya asked softly, hands tucked inside the pockets of her shorts. Trixie blinked. The first thing that drew her eyes in was the way Katya’s red lipstick framed her slightly open mouth. Next she noticed how her dark, smoky eyes lined a beseeching expression that was cautiously asking to be let in. She was still wearing her mouth-watering casual clothes from earlier and her dirty blonde hair seemed as though a hand had ran through it several times. Trixie minutely chased the thoughts away and opened the door wider to let her in.

The room was a little tossed up with most of her electronic and camera gear on the desk and half folded clothes and shoes on the bed. A hot pink empty suitcase sat nearby the window. Trixie apologized for the mess and quickly straightened up her things, explaining that she had been meaning to pack but needed to work while she was still inspired. Katya silently nodded as she sank down to sit on the edge of the bed, eyes darting around the corners of the room. Once she was done fixing, Trixie leaned against the table with her arms lightly folded over the pink with white “TRAVEL BARBIE” lettering cropped hoodie she was wearing. Both women said nothing. There was a new charged energy in the room, an anticipation as thick as molasses. It was possible that something could happen in the next five minutes, and Trixie couldn’t find the right words to break the tension.

“Trixie—”

“Katya—”

The both giggled. “You first,” Trixie said, smiling.

“Right, here I go.” Katya returned the smile quickly before huffing out a breath. “I just… want to thank you for accepting my invitation in the beginning. Sorry I was weird and I hope you still had a comfortable stay at my resort. If there’s anything else I can help you with, I’d be glad to do it for you.” Trixie nodded, her expression serious.

“I had a really great time here, despite being seduced by a Sugar Mommy. I’ll send you my therapy bills, you fucking cougar,” she quipped dryly, causing Katya to squint in breathless laughter and to flail her legs over the bed. “You are like, what? 57?”

“That fucking pink hair—I knew you didn’t strike me as the type who, you know, actually works hard for her money,” Katya wheezed through her laughter. Trixie’s mouth dropped in fake outrage.

“Oh bitch excuse me, I built my vlog with hard work. But if I wanted a Sugar Mommy to pay for everything, I could’ve gotten one.”

“Because you are what? Poor.” A teasing grin splayed across Katya’s face. Trixie felt the shade dive deep all the way to her childhood in rural Milwaukee and shrieked in laughter. Katya then rolled around the bed to her favorite sound and bizarrely ended up in a pose with one leg stretched in to the air. They felt more at ease now with humor introduced into the serious conversation.

Then Katya decided to stab the atmosphere with her own knife. “Oh and by the way I also broke up with Violet.”

“You what?!” Trixie gasped, her laugh halting to a screeching stop. Of all the dumb decisions—

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Katya said quickly, sitting back up on the bed. “I Skyped her awhile ago and we talked for hours. I told her the truth and… well, she wasn’t happy with it.” Trixie meant to interrupt but Katya held out both her hands. “But-but she also couldn’t promise me when she’s coming back home here. Or I’m not sure if she wants to call this place a home… Do you know how hard it is to buy rhinestones in this country?” She snorted humorlessly. Trixie shook her head, but deep inside she understood what Katya was implying. Based on their conversation the night before, she realized she was looking for a place to call home too. And she wasn’t talking about four walls and a roof.

“But Katya… I’m leaving too,” Trixie said almost angrily. Why did Katya have to love those who has to leave her? It wasn’t fair. She folded her arms again. “I don’t know if I can come back here. Or if you can even leave your resort.” Or, Trixie didn’t want to verbalize, if she could manage her travel vlog career from a different country just to be with Katya. It was her greatest passion and she would not give it up that easily. Traveling made her whole and she wanted to be a complete being for whoever she will give her heart to.

“I know, I know,” Katya said, grinning mischievously that, Trixie had learned, preceded a heartfelt comment. It was her defense mechanism in play when she was about to reveal a deeply vulnerable truth. “But it doesn’t matter. Wherever you’re going next, so does my home.”

The weight of the words sank in between the silence and flowered out to fill the room. Trixie’s mouth fell open and she couldn’t stop the blush creeping up her neck. Katya had just handed Trixie a part of her to carry around in all her future travels as she acknowledged that the resort was no longer considered her home. Katya lowered her head, if it was possible, in dignified embarrassment.

“Okay,” Trixie began, breaking the silence. Time to let the feelings out. “Again, I really had a nice time here. And I don’t mind having your batshit ass around.” She lowered her eyes. “I like talking with you and I think you’re one of the strongest persons I know because you’ve had shitty stuff happen to you before but you never became an asshole because of it. You’re like, really fucking smart and hard working and really good to people… and… uh…” She swallowed. There was no going back now after this. “You’d definitely have a chance. With me. If you’d still like.”

Katya’s gaze softened as she looked up to her favorite person. “All I need is one chance. Just one,” she said, standing up from the bed to meet Trixie’s eyes in all seriousness. Trixie inhaled sharply and too stepped forward, charmingly towering over Katya’s sinewy frame. The air thickened and all it takes is one move to push things to no return. Who will make the move?

“Trixie Mattel, I’m not going to let you leave this resort until I kiss you.”

Trixie’s brain short-circuited as her eyes glazed over. It was whispered so softly had she not been a breath away from Katya, she would not have caught it. “Where?” she teased lightly, buying herself some time to breathe from the situation. A shark like expression erupted from Katya’s face.

“You brat.” She smirked, eyes sparkling. She continued, “On your cheek. Or your fingertips. It doesn’t fucking matter. Wherever you want. That would be enough.” Trixie pulled back ever so slightly to stare at the small genuine smile on her face. There was a rare sincerity to Katya’s voice that wasn’t suffixed by a guffaw and melted her heart.

Trixie hesitantly turned her head to the side to hold her cheek out, allowing. As Katya slowly moved closer, Trixie caught a whiff of the ocean, smoke, and perfume. The twist of scents rapidly triggered her brain to overload with picturesque memories. In the full space of a second, her universe was filled with the smell of the seaside from her balcony at night time, moments of staring from the back of the motorcycle at Katya’s glistening neck that probably tasted like saltwater, and the sensual wisp of cigarette smoke emitting from between her fingers over a hearty laugh. If this is what caused Trixie to change her mind, she had no regrets about turning her head to meet her lips with Katya’s at the last millisecond.

All of Trixie’s thoughts quieted, died down, but such as nuclear explosions do, her brain went from white blank to exploding into colorful chaos. It didn’t feel like the simple action of two lips meeting, but a pull towards the being that is Katya. She decided that lips weren’t enough physical contact so she wrapped her arms around Katya’s neck, bringing her home. The older woman, who had frozen in surprise, immediately pushed Trixie against the edge of table, closing the space between their hips. Trixie could feel the heat spread throughout her entire body from the pleasurable delight of being trapped against a solid object with only a pair of well-manicured hands on her waist holding her down.

Her leg slowly moved up to Katya’s calves and rested over her ass, pulling in to lessen the distance, if there was any left possible, and to anchor herself against the storm. Katya groaned, losing her fucking mind over the eroticism of her right pelvis pressed against the apex of Trixie’s thighs. She deliciously squeezed said fleshy thigh, feeling the soft, smooth skin and roundness that was uniquely woman. Trixie gasped at the sensation. Her hands began to roam as she lowered her raised leg to meet Katya’s fingers, which slid down from her thighs to clutch the back of her knee. Trixie inhaled sharply and her breathing grew shallower when Katya thrust her tongue inside her mouth and, at the same time, cleverly moved her middle finger up and down, and circling rhythmically, over the crease of Trixie’s bent knee, a female version of stroking a guy’s finger with a promise of the real thing coming soon. With little left to the imagination of where this was headed, she pulled away from Katya with a loud moan.

Both women stared at each other, breathing heavily, wide eyes searching for any sign, any hint, that they’re going to be okay. That this terrifying and exhilarating feeling was okay. With the help of the bright harsh light of her room, Trixie’s eyes hungrily took in Katya’s swollen wet red-smudged lips, dark blown out pupils, mussed up blouse exposing one shoulder and a nipple, and dirty blonde hair that she had definitely grabbed with her own hands. And Trixie thought she was the ravished one.

Katya let go of Trixie’s knee, lifting her fingertips up to the younger girl’s cheek, wordlessly asking if they could go further. She felt a shock throughout her entire body when Trixie gently pushed her away and walked to the door. Katya felt her heart drop all the way to the bottom of her stomach, believing that she had made an absolutely huge mistake and that Trixie was going kick her out of the room and tell her that she didn’t want this, that she was too old for her, and deserves way better than a former drug addict. She could feel her throat choking up, was about to wrap her arms around her stomach, until Trixie simply switched off the lights and bathed them both in moonlight from the window.

———

The sun was high and bright at mid-afternoon. The rented car sped past small bungalow houses, rice fields, traffic laden highways, to a bustling city, and soon, they would be at the Clark International Airport. Trixie was curled against Katya’s body almost the entire ride. It wasn’t much of a difference in position of how they woke up that morning, especially with Katya stroking Trixie’s cotton candy hair as dawn’s light seeped through the window. Verbal promises were whispered all night as the non-verbal ones were kissed onto naked skin. It was as though Katya wanted to soon fill Trixie’s heart with something before the painful absence sets in between them hours from now.

“I wish I could stay,” Trixie said quietly. The car was in the same city now as the airport and she could feel the hourglass sand running low with her remaining time.

“I wish you would,” said Katya, continuing to stroke Trixie’s hair before giving it a kiss. “But you have a life of your own.”

Trixie sat up, suddenly filled with guilt. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to be one of those who leaves you again—”

“Don’t be.”

“I want to keep you.”

Katya struggled for an answer to that one. Coming up with nothing, she could only gather the younger girl back into her arms so she would not see the stray tear she was wiping away.

With her head against Katya’s chest, Trixie traced the tattoos on her forearm from where her sleeve has rode up. “What does this one mean to you?” she quietly said to the left one. “Is it a Tarot card?”

Katya nodded. “The Fool,” she answered. “New beginnings, naivety, leap of faith.”

“And this is Death?” Trixie glanced at the other arm.

“Yep. It means change, mortality, letting go…” Katya glanced down to meet her eyes. “It, uh, depends on which side you see them. Things can change their meanings if you look at it in another way, you know?”

There was a moment of silence as the two women stared at each other. The car was pulling into the airport’s security checkpoint and they both felt time starting to slip away quickly. “You know what’s one thing I lo–like about you?” Trixie said, staring straight into her gray eyes, trying not to give away that she almost slipped. “You absolutely have no filter. You are so free to be yourself. Don’t ever change that.”

Katya’s mischievous smile returned. “So why does it feel like I’m the one trapped here?” she said.

“Come with me,” Trixie blurted out. She regretted it immediately, thinking how much she sounded like a child. “I mean…” Her words were hushed with a kiss.

“Let’s just see which back alley life takes us before it fucks us up, okay?” Katya whispered to her lips then grinning. They finally pulled up to Departure. Katya helped her with her suitcases and other bags before she was unable to take it and pulled her into a tight embrace.

“I can’t wait for the video,” Katya said into her ear. “You’ve always been so talented with storytelling and a camera. Remember that’s also why I brought you here.” Trixie nodded into her shoulder, fighting back her own tears.

“I hope my vlog would help bring more stories your way,” she said, releasing her hug. There was an intensity in Katya’s staring, one that fiercely declared “I love you, Trixie”, only held back by her tongue thinking that after one night of sex was too early to say out loud. Yet Trixie picked up on the expression, but couldn’t say it back either. She poured what words she cannot say yet into a tearful, lingering kiss. As they parted, Trixie picked up her bags before walking to the doorway of the airport.

Katya watched Trixie until she was no longer in sight. With a heavy heart, she got back into the car and was silent throughout the entire ride back to La Union.

———

THREE MONTHS LATER

Trixie was about to hang up after the ninth ring when her online call was finally picked up.

“Hello?”

“Sasha?” Trixie said softly.

“Darling, how are you doing?” Sasha’s low voice cooed from the other side of the world.

“I’m… I’m doing great,” the younger girl said, trying not to sound too fragile. “Just wanted to know how you’re doing.”

There was a pause before Sasha replied. “I’m doing wonderful. The cafe is doing great and I may be opening a second one somewhere in Metro Manila soon. It’s going to be at Bonifacio Global City, which is a huge deal!”

“That’s good to hear,” Trixie said, smiling. She exhaled heavily. “Sasha—”

“Are you okay, Trixie?”

“I just talked to Katya and…”

“Oh dear, is anything wrong?”

“No, none at all. I just… I just really miss her and it hurts,” Trixie sniffed, clutching the side of her bed where she was sitting on. “It hurts so much, Sasha. I just got back from my trip to Australia and… I thought traveling again would make it easier. But I don’t feel complete anymore.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Sasha said sadly. “I remember how happy you looked when you told me you liked her. Trust me, darling. It hurts for Katya too. It may even hurt for her even more.”

“Why?”

Trixie could imagine Sasha pursing their glittery lips before answering in a tone that felt like she was sitting in a Philosophy lecture.

“Because the absence of a lover is felt more strongly by the one who is left behind. Such as in ancient times, it’s man who goes off to hunt or to sail, and the woman waits for him to come back.”

Trixie fell silent. It finally clicked now when Katya had told her at the airport how she felt trapped or when she talked about ships docking at her port, only to leave later at some point. Guilt permeated her heart as she thought of Katya going through her day on the beach, hoping that one day, or someday, the girl she loves will return. While Skype sessions were frequent, it was the bodily absence of each other that was putting them through a longing that had no end. The agony was real.

“I want to keep her around,” she said, sniffing back her tears. “But my friend Bob said that the long distance is going to be hard when we live in different timezones. What do we do?”

“You know, dear, you have the option to not pursue the relationship if it’s too taxing on both of you,” Sasha said. But before Trixie could interrupt, they plowed on. “BUT that doesn’t mean you have to give up. I think you know what I mean when I say that the older you grow, the easier it is to lose contact with friends along the way, yes? So if there’s someone worth keeping in your life, it’s going to take a lot more effort to hold on to them. It’s hard, but we do it anyway because they’re worth it.”

Trixie burst into sobs. Her heart and mind both agreed strongly that Katya was worth everything, and the intensity of those feelings spilling out were overwhelming. There was a sense of relief that she still could feel her humanity capable of loving someone so much it caused her pain. She tried to compose her voice, only cracking a little. “D-doesn’t it sound stupid that… Traveling makes me feel right at home, that moving around feels like home? But this last trip didn’t feel like it…”

Sasha paused to think. “It seems the journey is more important to you than the destination… Correct me if I may be wrong, but have you ever thought that you were escaping from something?” they said. Trixie’s mouth fell open in realization. Indeed, why has she been traveling in the first place?

She began to narrate her history to Sasha through her sniffles, who patiently listened. When she was eighteen, Trixie left her family home to find a new life away from her abusive step-father. When she thought she had gotten away, she continued to run from the voices in her head that yelled that she wasn’t good or smart enough to make it in a big city. And when she had finally found monetary success in her YouTube travel vlogs and other side hustles, she had immediately worked herself to exhaustion to run away from idleness, terrified that the moment she rested, her income will fall and will be back at poverty. It was why Kim and Bob called her a workaholic, something she had honestly believed was a good virtue for a while. Until Katya, damn that girl, spoke of finding something, or someone, real to stand still for. She wanted to stop running. She had to do something.

“Trixie?”

“Hey Sasha, that business contact you have in Manila… What’s his name again?”

———————

FIVE MONTHS LATER

THE REAL TEA BEHIND MY LA UNION VLOG—AND A SURPRISE ANNOUNCEMENT 842,711 views

“Hi guys,” Trixie softly beamed to her viewers. It felt strange for her to start a vlog without the hyped up, perky energy she usually puts on. She shyly tucked her hair behind her ear before saying, “I’ve, uh, been wondering for months if or how I should be telling you guys this story… But I think now is the perfect time.”

Her beam turned into a grin as she couldn’t help reminisce the good times she had on that sliver of paradise. A glow lit up her face.

“Several months ago, I was invited to La Union by a friend I met at VidCon. Turns out I had been casted by some almighty force above to star in a Greg Berlanti rom-com starring me and Charlize Theron from Atomic Bland…”

She snorted. Her cheeks slightly pinked before stating the words with a glowing smile. “What I mean to say is… I met someone.”

With a fluttering trail of photos and funny videos included into her vlog, Trixie told the story of how she met Katya, her friends, their brief conflict, and how they bonded even further after she left Elyu. Then she gave a quick rundown about the past few months where both ladies worked tirelessly on closing a business deal that gave Katya a brand new opportunity.

“So without further ado, may I bring to the stage… The incomparable, the legendary, the festering pile of garbage I could not scrape off my shoe, my new travel vlog partner Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova. Or as your dad calls her, Katya!”

Messy dirty blonde hair and straight perfect teeth, the glory that was Katya slid into the seat next to Trixie. While her body language stayed polite and composed, she had a wild manic grin that promised to bring crazy shenanigans to Trixie’s next world adventure. A pair of tiny plastic hands topped both of her pointer fingers.

“Katya will be joining me on my future travels until she dies of arthritis,” Trixie explained.

“I’d die of diabetes actually,” Katya injected as-a-matter-of-factly.

“Why?”

Katya quickly turned to lick Trixie’s face, causing both of them to flail, scream, and crash off-screen. A quick jump cut edit had them both back into the frame.

Trixie took up the lead. “We’re also thinking about doing a short vlog series of us talking about whatever we want when we’re not on the road. Feel free to comment below what we should talk about first—”

“And we’ll see if we can try to stay on topic,” said Katya, grinning deviously. “Oh! I bet you’re all wondering what happened to the resort,” Katya said to the camera. “I sold it to my friend Karl and his partners at FP Ruview Enterprise, god bless those hoes. Then I took the cash, buried it into a hole, and then I fucked it.”

“And then it grew into a money tree. Fuck you dad, money does grow on trees,” Trixie chimed in. Turning to her girlfriend, she said, “Would you make a good financial adviser?”

“I would!”

“Great cause I can’t wait to be stranded in the middle of Germany with you with no money.”

It was the first time Katya wheezed and flailed on Trixie’s vlog while batting at her with the toy hands. Later on, Trixie read with gratification that her viewers ate their banter up and wanted more.

“Ooh ooh! We can look for a strip club in Germany and wiggle there for extra cash,” Katya exclaimed. She got up from her seat and began running her hands up and down her torso and hips in the least sexiest way possible. Trixie watched with open amusement, wondering with utter delight what she had gotten herself and her vlog into. For a few seconds, she played out a daydream; twisting around to the plane seat next to hers and seeing Katya’s wild and excited grin, looking forward to their trip together. It felt like she was back at Elyu’s beach again falling in love with her for the first time. This is what it felt like to be whole again.

“So, we’ll see you guys until our next video. Until then, I’m the adhesive allergy drag queens get on their balls for wearing too much duct tape, Trixie Mattel!”

“And I’m the dumpster bookshelf you’re dragging to your apartment at midnight when this stranger helps out and you pay him in wigs and a quick fuck, Katya!”

———

“Where are we going to next, by the way?” Katya asked after they turned off the camera. Trixie blinked. After Katya moved in with her, Trixie had to take a step back and wonder how did she get it right this time. There was a person in her space that she could always expect to see at the end of the day that could make everything better. When Trixie thought about home, she had never imagined it would be the sound of a hairdryer at 9 in the morning, or the faint smell of cigarettes in the late afternoon. And when Trixie said she wanted to be able to relate to love songs again, she didn’t exactly think that she herself would be blasting Taylor fucking Swift and singing “She is the best thing that has ever been MIIIIIINE” while cleaning their bathroom. She knew Katya hated Ms. Swift, but she also knew she was probably secretly smiling over the fresh clothes she was folding.

The concept of love is simple, yet so terribly easy to complicate. So it gave Trixie great pleasure to reply in all its uncomplicated glory, “Let’s stay home for a while.”

[jassieajoc]

Dim

I can still remember the very first time I had an anxiety attack. It was a morning on the way to school, I was with my kuya and our driver. I was still in 3rd Grade that time and I can still remember the sudden anxious feeling, It was like the whole world was swallowing me alive. I can still remember myself being so confused. I didn’t know what was happening to me, I was doing okay and the next time I knew I was being paranoid. I felt shitty that day. That day something grew in me. Something foolish and dark. And I didnt know that that something would be the start of my fucking life.

The first time I hurt myself was when I reached High School. Freshman year. Still so clueless of the world ahead of me. Still so innocent of the things I havent tried yet. So eager to try. So naive to care. I was having so fun but deep inside I was lost. I was scared. I was too ignorant that I forgot to think that there would always be a consequence. You see, thats the downside of having fun. The downside of being so happy. There would always be a fucking consequence. I got so insecure. I got so selfish. I thought my family didnt love me anymore. I thought I was going so bad that I became mad and then I got rebellious. I started cutting myself. I tried drinking alcohol. It was the start of losing myself. Sophomore Year came. I was doing okay. I wasnt as bad as I was. But I was as lost as before. The sad nights were still there. I got called names. Bitch. Slut. I got called names for being too friendly. For trying to distract myself from my evil self. Now im back again on hurting myself. This time, I would stay up all night thinking foolish thoughts. I would cut myself again but this time I cut my legs so that its easy to hide. I did foolish things in school again. But it was the kind of fun that makes you forget you are sad. I was doing okay after that but im still lost as ever.

The first time I had a suicidal thought was when I was still 11 yrs. old. Following the first time I started hurting myself. I had it all planned. I would hang myself and leave my suicide note below me. I already even wrote the fucking note when my mom went inside my room and saw it. And it was the first time I saw my mom, broken. I broke my mom. After it happened, people knew about it. I was more ashamed when they told me I was being stupid. They thought I was just fooling around that time. That I did it to have the things that I want. They told me I was just being spoiled. That Im too young to take things seriously. Too young to feel sad. Thats when I started being careful. Every time I feel lonely and sad, I would keep it all to myself. Scared that people might tell me im stupid again. I dont wanna broke my mom again. I dont wanna be a burden just because im thinking I really am a burden.

It was Junior Year when I got called names again. This time it was more hurtful. Sometimes they would tell it to my face. Sometimes just by the look from their faces I would already know —“what a bitch”. Maybe I was really a bitch. Maybe they were right. Maybe they’re not ones who were insecure, maybe I was. I started blaming myself. “Stop fooling yourself” “You’re not good enough” “You dont have the right to feel bad. You’re the one who’s doing it to yourself”. Then that was the time i realized, I have the shittiest self-esteem ever. Ive tried a lot of things this year. Lots of firsts. Crazy, fun, dangerous, and shitty things. I also started making myself look good. Feel good. But in the midst of all that, Im still losing myself. I was lost than before. I wanted everyone to love me. I wanted them to notice me. What the hell am I doing? “This wasn’t me”, I tell to myself. No matter how hard I try to be better, self-hate always wins. I was still hurting myself during these moments but this time it was quite different ‘cause a friend knows and im glad that despite all this negative things, someone cares. Up until this very moment Im still thankful for that friend. You know who you are, and God knows how grateful I am to have a friend like you. I couldn’t remember some serious (negative) things during Senior Year. It was a smooth sail. But not the smoothest ‘cause i still had fights with my ex boyfriend. I got so worried about my grades. I was stressed doing schoolworks. But to add it all up it was a great year. So great that I thought I was doing okay. I thought I had overcome that feeling. But little did I know, it was just hiding at the back of my mind.  

The first time I tried killing myself was when I reached College. Funny how the older I get, the more serious it became. See when I said I thought I was doing okay? Wrong. Little bitch was just resting. Waiting to attack me. It was gone for a year but the moment it came back, it was stronger. It was all over me. Now that Ive been carrying this bitch for almost 6 years now I think its time for me to give it a name. Lets call it, Dim. Why Dim? Well you see, the word dim means having a limited or insufficient amount of light, seen indistinctly, perceived by the senses or mind indistinctly or weakly. And dim is the perfect word to describe what im feeling all these years. The feeling of darkness. Dim wasn’t really that strong at first. He was quiet. He was as if trying to be friends with me. It was my first year of college so I was busy doing homeworks. Trying to figure out how college life works. First sem done and I thought I became friends with Dim already. Until he betrayed me. My boyfriend that time and I broke up. My whole world was shuttered. I was so down and Dim was the only one who was always there with me, so I let him take over my life. That was the time when I started avoiding people. I refused to go out, I stopped going to my classes. I was so scared. 2nd sem was a blur. A complete blur. Summer came and it was… okay. I guess. It was the start of fucking up my life. Walwal dito, walwal doon. Landi doon, landi dito. I was sooo lost that I forgot to have some respect for myself. All I can say is, that was the wildest summer that I had. I bet ya’ll waiting for the part where I tried to kill myself. Then here you go. January 2017, I had the worst anxiety attack ever. It was so bad I thought I was going insane. I called the suicide hotline but guess what they told me? THEY TOLD ME TO GO TO THE NEAREST HOSPITAL. Great. There I was crying hysterically on my bed. Alone. There I was wanting to end my fucking life and ya’ll gonna tell me to go to the nearest hospital? Crazy. So yeah, I had the pills on my hand when I thought “Am I really gonna end my life just because Im scared? Just because I didnt know what was happening to me?” Then I called 911. They asked me whats the problem and I only told them one word, “suicide”. They asked me who and that was the moment I broke down, I told them, “ako po”. I can hear them panicking and then there was silence on the other line. Then an another woman talked to me. I told her everything I felt that day and she told me nice things to make me feel better. We had a good talk and I was crying the whole time. She somehow convinced me that suicide is not always the answer. I owe her my life. Fast forward to March 2017, I got sick. I got bacterial infection —not STD,  from someone whom I loved so much. For the second time, my mom cried in front of me. For the second time, I saw my mom broken. I broke my mom, again. I became lost more than ever. I was so ashamed of myself. I was so angry. Why do I always fuck up? Ganyan na ba talaga ako ka bobo?

The second time I tried killing myself was 2 months later, I started falling for this guy. Who lied to me. I was a mistress the whole time, and I didnt know. My mom eventually knew about it because the wife was a pyscho —Sorry not sorry. I disappointed my parents. AGAIN. Only in a span of 2 months I was a disappointment, again. You see, Dim was winning this time. He was already bigger than me. He was all over my room. He was all over the building. He was all over me. That was when I took the pills. I can only remember myself falling asleep and the next thing I know I was at the hospital. After 7 years of dealing with that bitch Dim, I was finally diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder. After 7 years of trying to hide the pain, my parents finally knew about it. After 7 years, my friends finally realized that I wasn’t fooling around. I wasn’t being overdramatic. There were pros and cons to this situation. Pros, they finally knew about my depression so they were overly understanding. I felt free. It felt like nothing is holding me back anymore. It felt like I finally won over Dim. I felt stronger than Dim. Cons, they finally knew about my depression so they were overly protective and hella paranoid, thinking I might blew up in any moment. Even though I felt free and stronger than Dim, I can still feel his presence. I still feel weak. Ive been seeing my doctor every 2 weeks now. Im taking meds. People are helping me. Months have passed and I thought I was really okay now. I thought I had it under control until 3 months later, I can feel him all over me again. It seems like the pills are not working anymore. I started keeping secrets from my doctor. I started telling lies to my family and friends just so they wont worry about me anymore. Im even back on hurting myself. I cut my wrists and legs. I tried overdosing myself again. Twice this time.   It gets worse everyday. Its seems like Dim knows my weak spots now, he knows where and when to hurt me. I keep blaming myself even on the smallest things. Sometimes I think, what if Im going insane? What if Im never going to be okay? I dont even know anymore.

I didnt write any of these so that you’ll pity me. I didnt write any of these to make ‘papansin’. I didnt write any of these so that you’ll know my story. I wrote this so that all of you people who are reading this can understand. I want you guys to understand that depression is never a joke. Depression isn’t easy, it never was. I want you to understand that even the smallest things can hurt a person a thousand more. I want you to understand that depression isn’t just a bad day. It is a never ending battle between you and your mind. Depression isn’t just being tired because you had a shitty day. It is a different feeling piling up until one day you cant deal with it anymore, you’ll blow up. Depression isn’t just being lazy. It is the thoughts and the paranoia that makes you feel so tired you can’t get out off your bed. It is the heavy feeling that sinks you deeper, makes you not wanting to wake up, hoping you can sleep the sadness away. If you know someone dealing with depression, help them. Support them. Sometimes, presence helps. Just being there for them helps. Even a simple hug can make them feel a little better. Listen. Dont say anything. Just listen to them and hug them.

This is for the ones who fought and never survived, Im sorry. Im really, really sorry. Wherever your souls are right now, I hope you now have the happiness you pretend to have. The happiness you truly deserve. For the ones who are still struggling from their demons, I am here. We are here. Its okay to cry, its okay to lose your shit but sweetie, just remember to never ever let your Dim beat you. You are stronger than him.

A small act can change a person’s life. Right this moment, somewhere, someone needs your help. Ask. Because sometimes, you can either save a person’s life or be a minute late.

And right now, you’re too late.

[michaelina520imvu-blog]

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