#i refuse to use google docs

[princesssarcastia]

i am looking for a word processor that:

i can buy ONCE and then OWN FOREVER

i can download to my personal computer

does not require an internet connection

will not force or even, ideally, require me to update it, ever

i believe microsoft word is now in its death throes vis a vis providing me with these things, despite my paying a not-insignificant amount of money last year to get a one-time, forever use version of it. (yes, i AM so mad it looks like they lied to me about that. i am going to be so mad about it forever).

does anyone have suggestions on this front?

[biscuit-munchies]

Beast Yamcha Ref Sheet

Beast Yamcha Ref Sheet, also cut up for an easier read and individuals, tee hee :)

[badolmen]

it’s always ‘why are you writing on your phone?’ and ‘what the fuck why the notes app?’ and never ‘how was the unbridled productivity and tragic hubris? the hubris looked fun.’

[daisies-on-a-cup]

google docs it is not an "error" it is my narrative voice and choice!!!!!!!!!!!!

[senadimell]

You know, as a young ish person who's grown up in a primarily digital world, there's something really grounding about spending time with people older than my parents. Went to a Guild activity last night and it was delightful being with the older ladies there.

Someone offered to drive me home because it was over an hour back to my house by public transit. We're in a city, and she took me back to my home by driving through neighborhoods and back roads, in the dark, to a place she hasn't visited in four years, without a GPS (before I gave her a landmark to drop me off at, I gave her my exact address and she got frustrated with the search engine and said she would just use the paper map in her car).

A few weeks ago, I had dinner with a friend's parent's coworker/boss/friend, and she told me I would learn to find my way around and would know the area like a native. It strikes me that this is what she meant, but she wasn't right--if I were to live here for years and go about it as I had been doing, I wouldn't get native knowledge of the area because I would just be relying on GPS and not actually navigating. If I want to really learn the area, I have to pay attention in a way I only learned how to do (and rarely use) because I spent six months in a foreign country without a smartphone or computer.

The lady who drove me home said something to the effect of "you're new to the area so you won't criticize the route I take. I'm just going to take the way I know so I won't get lost." What I don't think she realized is that even if I had been here for years, I wouldn't criticize the route she took, because I lived in my last area for six years and didn't even learn the name of the highway I took weekly. Stupid GPS brain.

So I'm going to Guild meetings for a Formal Skill, but there's all sorts of other basic, hidden life things that I wouldn't learn on my own. It's also been striking to realize that there's a major gap in expectations about how people operate in the world. Nobody above a certain age who's talked to me about the routes I take seems to realize that I don't actually know the names of roads and exits, or that it's possible to get around. I don't want to continue in ignorance, but if I did, I could get around in a smartphone, live here for probably ten years, and only learn about four street names.

[ihangelic]

NICE GUY ꒱ h.taesan

synopsis. taesan climbs through your window bloody and injured, yet all he’s wanting is to know you’re okay pair. taesan x gn!reader genre. angst to fluff (hurt/comfort), bff’s to lovers warnings. ‘unrequited’ to requited love, crying, mentioned ex, protective!taesan, injury/blood, kissing, reader wears mascara, taesan calls reader ‘pretty’, reader lives with parents wc. 1.5k

𓂃 ₊˚⊹ note. woke up this morning with an empty google doc and the need for angst. came up with this and i actually really like it!

copyright of @/ihangelic

crying in your bed isn’t how you planned to spend your saturday night, but when you heard that your ex boyfriend was going around talking shit about you— you didn’t really have the ability to do anything else.

just an hour ago you were getting ready to go to a party, your best friend taesan already in his car to come pick you up and accompany you (as always).

of course you had to get the text just as you were putting on your mascara; a friend of yours texting you that they’re already at said party— but so is your ex. they went on to tell you everything your ex said to his group of friends, yet he spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear; that he wasn’t ever really into you, that he was bored and you seemed ‘easy to get’, that he decided to drop you once you got too annoying.

after that your eyes quickly filled with tears from the humiliation that curved your shoulders, quickly texting taesan that you weren’t going to the party anymore.

he sent you a few confused texts asking ‘what’ and ‘why’ and ‘you wanna do something, just the two of us instead?’. when you didn’t answer, not able to find the energy, he started calling. after the third ring, the small flood of notifications stopped, a few minutes passing before you received one more text from taesan.

it simply read; ‘i heard. i’ll be over in a bit’.

and now you’re here; mascara running in your going-out outfit that’s going to waste as you wait to hear taesan’s car pull up in your driveway.

it’s not like you were ever that attached to your ex. it was a short, unserious relationship; one that you got into because he pursued you first and you thought he was a nice guy. but the more time you spent with him, the more you realized why you were really with him—

for a distraction.

feelings you’d been swallowing down for years, butterflies you refused to acknowledge were in your stomach— not for your ex, but your best friend.

it’s funny how the human mind works, how you can shut things out and lie to yourself until you genuinely believe it, all while your heart knows. it always knows who it really belongs to. and you hate it. you hate how as you’re lying in your bed crying, you’re unsure of what you’re really crying about; the mean words your nobody of an ex said? or is it because the one person you want is constantly by your side, yet not in the way that you want?

a knock at your window has you flinching, lifting your head to see the darkened image of taesan crouched on your roof.

this occurrence isn’t uncommon, but it has you worried every time as you hurry to get up and open your window.

“what the fuck are you doing?” you start scolding before he even steps his first foot inside, voice more harsh than needed as your emotions confuse you. “would it kill you to just use the front door for once?”

“i didn’t want to wake your parents up.” taesan says while looking down, jumping off the window’s ledge and landing on his two feet.

in the soft yellow lamp-light of your bedroom, he finally looks up— and your eyes roam over each other’s faces; taesan’s eyes hardening at your obvious tear streaks, mascara darkening the bottom of your eyes; while your heart drops into the pit of your stomach when you see a bruise already forming on the high of his cheek bone and a split on the far side of his lip.

“…what the fuck did you do?” you ask, voice coming out somewhat whispered and a little rough from your crying.

taesan looks as though he doesn’t even hear you, deep brown eyes still roaming over your features. you hate how you feel your cheeks start to heat up at the tender look of concern— and you hate it even more when his hand slowly lifts to your cheek, almost like he’s cupping your face if it weren’t for how ghostly his touch is— before his thumb starts rubbing off the grey tear stains.

your heart thumps in your chest at the action and you sniff, turning your face away from his touch so you could much more roughly wipe at your own cheeks.

“taesan, answer me.”

“got in a fight.” he answers vaguely, eyes avoiding your demanding ones as he tries to dab some of the blood onto his bent wrist instead, causing you to then notice his bruised knuckles.

“…with him?” you ask, your voice piercing the quiet between you, an odd tension— because you’re not stupid. you can put two and two together that he must have driven to the party without you to confront your ex. you can only imagine the scene it must have caused, but you honestly should have expected it. taesan has always been one to have a short fuse when it comes to how others treat you.

the butterflies that have made home in your stomach seem to want to make sure you haven’t forgotten their presence, fluttering around in a sudden burst and making you feel a little sick.

“he deserved it. he deserves more.” taesan utters, voice dark as he mentions ‘him’.

“but you got hurt in the process.” you say sternly, with a little bite as you take hold of his uninjured hand to lead him to your connected bathroom.

he sits on the ledge of the tub when the warmth of your palm leaves his, watching as you open the cabinet and pull out a washcloth.

“you should’ve seen him though.” taesan jokes, your eyes looking up to glance at his smile through the mirror before he hisses at the sting of his lips being stretched.

“i wish i could have, actually.” you softly admit, and taesan’s happy to see the corners of your mouth turn up a bit.

running the cloth under cold water, you wring it out before folding it and coming face to face with taesan, the boy only having to lift his chin slightly to compensate.

your brows furrow as you gently dab up the blood on his lip, careful with the open wound.

in your concentration you don’t notice how taesan’s soft eyes continue to take you in until he speaks up again— the surprising reverency of his tone, uttered so closely to your face, sending goosebumps across your skin.

“you look really pretty.”

your ministrations pause, eyes moving from his plump lips to his gaze— which you’re too frazzled to think about what emotion they’re holding.

you try to laugh it off, awkward and airy as you shake your head with a little smile. “please. i look like a mess. i have raccoon eyes.”

“no,” taesan disagrees gently. “looks cool, like grunge-y smudged eyeliner.”

you huff through your nose, still smiling as you remove the washcloth from his mouth, rinsing off the blood under the open faucet. once it’s all clean, damp with cold water and neatly folded, you raise your hand with the intention of holding it to his lip again to prevent swelling— but taesan stops you with his fingers curling around your wrist, lowering it so it doesn’t obscure his view of your face.

“i can’t stand knowing you were crying over him— hurt because of him…”

his confession, once again whispered while you swear his eyes glance down to your lips before connecting back with your stare— it has your confusing emotions rousing all over again, like you're scrambling to hold the pieces of your heart together before they can even break, bracing for impact.

“m’ hurt because of you.” you mumble without thinking, eyes widening in panic when you realize the words you just said out loud.

“what?” taesan asks, bewildered yet desperately wanting to understand.

you attempt to escape his hold on your wrist and run like a coward from the situation— from your feelings; but taesan doesn’t let you, standing up and pulling you captive into his arms.

“don’t make me wait anymore.” he pleads, breath fanning against your face as the proximity between you has lessened even more. “say what’s on your mind.”

and suddenly there’s nothing; everything in your head quiets except for the beat of your heart and a voice that tells you to lean into his lips. and so you do, the magnetic pull of taesan’s eyes helping you inch closer, meeting you halfway until the warm press of his skin is against yours.

the moment you touch, it’s like you’re both breathing in your first breath of life, ribs expanding before sighing and melting deeper into each other’s arms. taesan’s kiss is so wanting, yet careful— as though you’re the one with an injury.

your hands grab onto taesan’s shirt as if to confirm this is real— real enough to feel between your fingers. his arm wraps more firmly around the curve of your spine while his other hand cups your cheek, and it’s like you fit together perfectly.

when you part, taesan’s eyes still have that magnetic energy— unable to look away from his gaze that’s now completely ungaurded, more open than you’ve ever seen him before.

“say it…” he yearns, warm palm still holding your cheek— and suddenly it’s like words are easy.

“i love you.”

[queerautism]

It feels kinda wild I've seen no one mention the huge controversy NaNoWriMo was in about 7 months ago (Link to a reddit write up, there's also a this google doc on it) in this whole recent AI discourse. The main concerns people had were related to the 'young writers' forum, a moderator being an alledged predator, and general moderation practices being horrible and not taking things like potential grooming seriously.

About 5 months ago, after all of that went down, MLs or 'Municipal Liaisons', their local volunteers organisers for different regions of the world, were offered a horrible new agreement that basically tried to shut them up about the issues they'd been speaking up about. Some of these issues included racism and ableism that the organisation offered zero support with.

When there was pushback and MLs kept sharing what was going on, NaNoWriMo removed ALL OF THEM as MLs and sent in a new, even more strict agreement that they would have to sign to be allowed back in their volunteer position.

This agreement included ways of trying to restrict their speech even further, from not being able to share 'official communications' to basically not being allowed to be in discord servers to talk to other MLs in places not controlled by NaNoWriMo. You also had to give lots of personal information and submit to a criminal background check, despite still explicitly leaving their local regions without support and making it very clear everyone was attending the OFFICIAL in person events 'at their own risk'.

Many MLs refused to sign and return. Many others didn't even know this was happening, because they did not get any of the emails sent for some reason. NaNoWriMo basically ignored all their concerns and pushed forward with this.

Many local regions don't exist anymore. I don't know who they have organising the rest of them, but it's likely spineless people that just fell in line, people who just care about the power, or new people who don't understand what's going on with this organisation yet. Either way, this year is absolutely going to be a mess.

Many of the great former MLs just went on to organise their writing communities outside of the official organisation. NaNoWriMo does not own the concept of writing a novel in a month.

R/nanowrimo is an independent subreddit that has been very critical of the organisation since this all happened, and people openly recommend alternatives for word tracking, community, etc there, so I highly recommend checking it out.

I've seen Trackbear recommended a lot for an alternative to the word tracking / challenge, and will probably be using it myself this November.

Anyway, just wanted to share because a lot of people haven't heard about this, and I think it makes it extremely clear that the arguments about "classism and ableism" @nanowrimo is using right now in defense of AI are not vaguely misguided, but just clear bullshit. They've never given a single shit about any of that stuff.

[sincerelyneo]

hiiii will you repost your old haechan frat boy fic 🫣

i'm not sure if this is the one you were talking about, but it's the only google doc i had of haechan in a college au.

all bark no bite | l.hc

❯ summary: Lee Haechan is the most annoying man you’ve ever encountered. But that doesn’t mean you don’t find him hot; and maybe that’s why he has you flat on his mattress one night at a random frat party.

❯ pairings: haechan x fem!reader

❯ genre: college!au, rivals, smut.

❯ words: 2.5k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, angst, hate sex, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up !), pet names, excessive use of the name ‘baby’ and ‘princess’, begging, dirty talk, reader uses she/her pronouns, haechan is very cocky, haechan 1000% has a crush on the reader.

Lee Haechan is an asshole. A condescending, irritating asshole who knows exactly how to get on your fucking nerves and—

“God — fucking — dammit—!”

— is currently the asshole pressing you against his mattress.

Truth be told, you don’t even know how you got here. You remember being shoved in a closet with him for Seven Minutes in Heaven at some random frat party his friends were throwing, but you for sure as hell remember absolutely refusing to kiss him.

“Why not?” He’d sneered, folding his arms. “You scared you’re gonna like it, Princess? Promise I’ll take real good care of you–"

"Oh, please,” you’d scoffed right back. “Let’s not pretend you know your way around a girl’s body, Hyuck. I doubt you could even find my clit–"

"I would obliterate your pussy if you’d let me, and you know it,” there was a glint in his eye as he looked you up and down, “And we both know you’d like it.”

You were so fired up that you hadn’t even noticed how close you’d gotten to each other; you could feel his breath on your lips, his chest against yours. So irritated by his cockiness, you hardly even registered what you said next until it was too late:

“You’re all bark no bite, Lee Haechan.”

For the last three years you’ve been at college, you and Haechan had both been walking on eggshells around each other. There’d always been tangible tension ever since you had shut down one of his rants in class and essentially destroyed him — and from there it’d been a competition to one-up one another. You hated him, he hated you… but doesn’t the line between hate and lust wear oh so thin when it’s someone as hot as him?

The answer is yes, evidently.

After the seven minutes we’re up, Haechan wastes no time dragging you out of the closet and to his bedroom, earning him a matter of gasps and ‘ooohhhs’ from the rest of the players.

Next thing you know, you’re lying on your stomach, hands pinned at the small of your back as he thrusts into you so deeply you swear you can feel him in your stomach. His sheets rub against your clit with every body-wrecking slap of his hips against you, your throat hoarse from screaming. And for a moment you’re really, really, really fucking sorry for even doubting his abilities so much — because God can he fuck.

But you’d never tell him that, you don’t need to. His ego is already massive, he’ll live without validation from you — or so you think.

A hand crowds underneath you, before seizing your neck and pulling you up. The shortness of breath makes you pant, pulsing around him instinctively and you hear him laugh in your ear.

Fucking asshole.

And as if he hears you, his fingers find your mouth — and you gag, because his fingers are fucking thick and he’s shoving them down your throat. And the worst part is you love it, your mouth swallowing them the minute they push past your lips like it was just instinct.

"Oh, baby,” he laughs breathlessly, “Next time you do that, make sure it’s on my dick."

"You fucking wish—” you grunt, because he’s laying into you real deep now, slow, languid thrusts that have you refraining from shuddering all over– “as if there’s going to be a next time, you dick."

"Oh?” his hips still.

Then, almost thoughtfully, they begin again. Slow and teasing and not nearly enough to have you writhing in pleasure. His pace is tortuous, and if he didn’t have your arms pinned behind you, you’d claw at his back to make him speed up.

“Really? You think one night of the best sex you’ll ever have is enough?"

"Please, your dick game isn’t that impressive,” you say flatly. “Just make me cum and get this over with.”

You feel the heat of his breath as he dips his head again, placing kisses on your jaw so gently that for a moment you’re taken aback. “Don’t get impatient now, baby. I told you I’d take care of you didn’t I? Just…” His hips still again– “I think I’d like you to ask for it.”

“Ask?” You scoff, incredulous.

He nibbles down on your ear, before brushing past it with his lips low enough to whisper, “You're right. I meant beg.”

“What, you get off on girls begging for your permission–?"

There’s a rough snap of his hips into you and you have to bite hard down on your lip to stop yourself from whimpering.

"Not just any girls,” he mutters, so quiet that you almost don’t hear. “Only you.”

You’re going to pretend that your heart doesn’t flip when he says that, partially because of how sick it is that that gets you off, and instead focus on what the fuck is going on.

Did Lee Haechan just admit he wants you to beg for him? The same man who’d made it his college mission to torment and tease you at every given opportunity wants you.

If you weren’t lying on your stomach and taking every thick inch of him you’d be running in shock horror. But you find the idea isn’t quite as horrifying as you’d imagined.

“… Maybe we can fit more than one round in tonight, but that’s all I can offer you,” you say after a moment. You can feel him freeze up behind you. “I’m a busy girl with exams, Hyuck, I don’t have time to be running around with strange men–”

“Strange men?” His laugh is really nice. Sweet and dorky — the opposite of the usual mischievous chuckling he did when he knew he had gotten under your skin — and you only manage a huff of your own laughter yourself before you’re caught off guard by his steadily increasing grinds. “And after those exams? Got any time for a strange man like me?"

“…I’d have to check my calendar.”

He hums, and you swear to God if he stops again you’ll take back everything. "But for now… What’s your calendar open to, baby? Three? Four rounds?”

“Bold of you to assume you’ll get me to cum more than once,” you mumble, but you’re beginning to lose your breath as he picks up the pace once again. “I’ll warn you, though – I get loud after two.”

You don’t have to look back to know he’s sporting a smug as fuck grin. “You better muffle yourself with a pillow then, because I’m not stopping.”

“You’re so fucking sexy when you do that.”

Okay, so maybe the whole ‘waiting until after exams’ bit is getting to Haechan. He wouldn’t wait until your calendar cleared up, he couldn’t, his testosterone wouldn’t let him.

It’s been a whole three days since he got to fuck you; and God was it driving him insane.

You glance up at him now, unimpressed. You knew studying with him was a bad idea, but he’d been so insistent; and you had to admit, knowing he had made you cum four times made his presence all the more tolerable to hang out with.

“When I what? Do science homework?"

"No, no – I mean, yes. When you concentrate you get this small… crease between your brows…” He reaches forward – concentrating himself – tugging the plush of his bottom lip between his teeth as he reaches out to poke between your brows. “You look fucking sexy.”

“Alright, Casanova, hands to ourselves” you snort before you return to your reading.

The silence doesn’t last long, and the second he opens his mouth you swear you’re two moments away from taping his lips together.

“Lemme eat you out.”

“Wh– no!” Horrified, you peek around to see if anyone had heard him. But the library is virtually empty – it always is after 11 PM on a Friday.

And also, you’re both tucked away in a table at the back behind the History books that no-one ever takes out.

“You should be studying.”

“Don’t worry about me, I got this exam in the bag.”

You glare. “You’re awfully confident.”

“Yeah.” He shrugs, slumping in his seat again. “You’re my only competition, and, well…”

“Well, what?” You demand, setting your book down.

This was the usual dynamic you were familiar with when it came to Lee Haechan.

“You saying I’m not good enough competition, for you Hyuck? If my memory serves me correctly – and it definitely does – I beat you by 10% on our last exam.”

His own eyes narrow.

Oh, you just hit a nerve.

“Just for that,” he begins slowly, pushing his chair out, “I’m gonna suck your clit ‘til you go dizzy.”

“What part of no don’t you understand?”

But the promise is enticing and you part your legs anyway as he shimmies underneath the table.

“You’re such a fuckboy, I swear–”

“I am not!” He objects incredulously from beneath you. “I just like how you taste, baby.”

A fuckboy, you swear. But he’s got a way with words (and a way with his fingers, and a way with his tongue, and a way with his di—).

You feel your skirt being rucked up and your panties being pulled to the side – seconds later, his face ducks up from the table, grinning wolfishly.

“You’re kinda wet down here, baby. Are you sure you’re okay?” He teases.

“Shut up before I scream,” you grunt, folding your arms.

“Wouldn’t that be a dream?” He sighs. He retreats not two milliseconds after, though, and you hear him whistle lowly to himself. And then, so quiet you almost don’t catch it: “Fucking hell, baby.”

You make a promise that if he calls you baby once more you’re going to kick him because it makes your stomach flutter and your palms sweat — but then he licks a rough line up your pussy and you decide that maybe you’ll allow him to call you whatever he pleases.

Your head falls back as he does it again, and again, and again, as if he’s trying to clean up whatever mess you’d made in your panties. And normally you’d be irritated — wanting him to just move onto your clit already — but he genuinely sounds like he’s enjoying himself.

Quiet groans in his throat and passionate movements of his jaw, and his hands grasp your thighs so tightly you know there’ll be bruises. He smacks his lips wetly and you jolt, peeking out from behind the bookshelf to see if anyone had seen.

“Calm down,” He says, words muffled against you. “Nobody comes behind here on a Friday night. We’re safe.”

And as if to punctuate his point: a finger pulls back the hood of your clit, and true to his word, he sucks. Quickly, you shove your fist into your mouth and begin to gnaw on your knuckles, squeezing your eyes shut so hard that you see stars.

“H-Hyuck,” you whimper, “Unless you want me to get us caught–"

"I know, I know,” he says, sighing. His face comes out from underneath the table again. “I’ll be good if you pull your top down.”

“W-what?” To be fair, you’re still delirious off pleasure because his thumb hasn’t stopped grinding against your clit. “Why?"

"So I can play with your tits,” he says easily, shrugging. “C'mon, Princess. Show me your boobs.”

You stare at him for a moment, disbelief written on your face. “You’re such a man.”

“And you’ve still got the limp to prove it, haven’t you, baby? Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you can’t walk straight.”

“Whatever.” You pull your top down, tug your breasts out of their cups – only to appease him and get him to shut up. Immediately he takes one in his grabby hands, all warm and rough as he tugs and pulls at one nipple.

So, okay, maybe he does know what he’s doing. Sometimes. Who are you kidding? All the time.

“Hm, you like that, don’t you?"

"Shut up,” you hiss, “if you get us banned from this library because of your dirty talk I’m never fucking you again—shit."

“We both know that’s not true.”

A steady stream of suckling on your sensitive bundle of nerves calls your attention elsewhere; at the same time, your nipple is rolled between his index and thumb. You feel like you’re buzzing all over, and it’s not because you’ve had five cups of coffee in the last three hours.

You don’t realise that you’re panting – fucking close – until Haechan releases your clit with a pop. He ducks underneath the table to peek up at you again. "Are you trying to get us caught?"

"I’ll be quiet,” you promise through gritted teeth, shoving your top into your mouth. You restrain the urge to curse him out because you could feel the beginning flutters of your orgasm on the tip of your tongue, and you know he’ll draw it out as much as possible if given the chance. “Just keep going."

He’s wearing a victorious, shit-eating grin when he gets back to it, energy increasing rapidly. He eats pussy like he’s competing for a trophy, and truth be told, you don’t mind being his prize if he makes you cum as hard as you did a few days ago. His tongue moves eagerly, tracing letters and numbers and fucking his name on your sensitive skin before sucking again.

No noise. You try to coach your brain into silence.

You never usually have a problem keeping quiet for the first orgasm. But as much as you hate to admit it, the act of being eaten out in a public library is a different kind of turn on.

And it really doesn't help that Haechan knows exactly what he’s doing.

Maybe that’s why when you cum, you have no problem with clinging to any part of him you can get your hands on — his hand on your chest, his hair between your legs. A weak whimper follows as you contract around nothing, hips bucking gently into his mouth, and he takes it all in.

Fuck.

He slides back from under the table and resurfaces a metre away, grinning widely. You know the image of you looking so ruined because of him is doing wonders for his ego — so as quickly as possible you pull your top down and readjust your skirt, panties irritatingly rough against your skin.

"Good, huh?"

You don’t want to give him anymore satisfaction, but you know with the orgasm he had just given you so publicly, there was no use in lying. In fact, you’re certain lying to him would only make his cocky ego flame even more.

“Whatever, Hyuck. You give good head, I’ll give you that.”

He hums, leaning backwards. “Thanks, baby. Now, bend over."

”Excuse me?“ You say.

“C’mon, you can’t just let me eat your pretty pussy and not expect me to get hard. You’re blue balling me here, Princess.”

You’re so genuinely shaken by his unfaltering confidence that you just stare.

“And don’t pretend you don’t love my cock.”

“Hyuck—”

“Bend over, I’m not kidding.”

You’re in a library. Letting him eat you out was already a reach — but you can’t deny that you do love the feeling of him inside you. And he did take good care of you last time. And —

You sigh in defeat, standing. “Remember what I told you last time?"

"You get loud after two. I’ll keep that in mind, baby.”

[addithevampire]

Personally I’ve been calling it the plagiarism machine or art theft bot when it comes to one of my professors trying to pressure me into using ChatGPT (and yeah, isn’t that the opposite of what you usually see).

we need to come up for a good word for ""AI"" that doesn't imply it's artificial or intelligent and highlights the stolen human labor. like theftgen

(workshop this with me)

[couch-house]

Hopefully I'll remember to come back and add to this later, but in my agony over the way this franchise treats its main female character, I've been fomenting an idea for a dream game, which I just call Amy's Girl Adventure. The boys are all offscreen trapped in a cage or something, being NOT important, while Amy and the girls get center stage for a full adventure.

And ofc as part of this, I feel the franchise is sorely lacking in some kind of Rue to her Duck, a Homura to her Madoka, a third edgy aloof meangirl rival to her optimistic pink protagonist. Enter Anemone Black, the antagonist of Amy's Girl Adventure, who will continue to be Amy's cold and rude rival even after she is defeated; NO MORE NICE GIRLS!!!

I have a vision for Amy's Girl Adventure that I'd really like to compile in a google doc at some point, but here's the elevator pitch: a combat-focused platformer that borrows heavily from Battle and Unleashed's combat mechanics. While Sonic and co are off elsewhere, Amy decides it would be helpful to collect the Chaos Emeralds on their behalf, just in case. Unexpectedly, she finds herself in a race to collect the emeralds against a mysterious girl named Anemone, who seems bent on using the Emeralds to change the world herself. Amy must work with her friends and allies to find all of the Chaos Emeralds before Anemone can.

Full image transcript below the cut!

Anemone Black (the Porcupine) 13 Cool rival for Amy Graceful, cool aloof, jaded When in possession of Chaos Emeralds, gains dark witchy powers Even when beaten, refuses to sacrifice her ideals Keystone species in girl character ecosystem: mean

Anemone's backstory is no more tragic than anyone else's in this world: powerless, she and many others have lost friends and family to disasters like the flooding of Station Square, the splitting of the planet, and Eggman's global conquest. Despondent and resentful, Anemone believes Sonic and his friends are too incompetent to stop these disasters before they happen. Anemone seeks the Chaos Emeralds to be granted their fabled Wish, which she will use to solve the world's problems herself. Ready to sacrifice the few for the good of the many, Anemone's Wish will kill Eggman and destroy his empire. And if anyone gets in her way, she'll show no mercy. Even when she is beaten, Anemone will not be swayed by Amy's rosy view of Sonic and what it means to save people. However, she will be compelled to attempt to change Amy's mind, above anyone else, just as Amy will attempt to change hers. The two recognize themselves in each other, as dark mirrors of naivete and cynicism.

[anonity]

to break a horse | chapter one

wc: ~3.5k warnings: n/a a/n: i will actually finish this series. i have an outline in my google docs, i promise LOL

“this isn’t something i’m willing to budge on.”

the room is cold, minimalistic only in the way that a modeling agency can be. monica sits across from azzi, scowl practically reflecting against the marble of her counter. “you’ve never budged on anything." she says. "ever.”

“i have,” azzi replies indignantly, even though she most definitely has not. her agent doesn’t even spare her a glance, too busy searching through google's results for authentic ranches in texas panhandle to pay her any mind.

“why don’t you tell me, again, why you won’t just do this in new york?” monica asks, as politely as someone inconvenienced to this extent can. the bone of her thumb taps against her desktop.

azzi sighs, a tad dramatically. “because modeling is so fake.” she complains. “everything’s fake. i never get to do anything real, and if my face –” azzi pauses, gesturing to the air at nothing – “is going to be on this, i want it to reflect me.”

monica pauses her typing. “which is..”

which is.. what, exactly? azzi isn’t really sure. she doesn’t feel like she knows herself at all – not outside of the cameras and public eye. but she does know what she wants to be, which is.. “real.”

“right,” monica scoffs, sounding unimpressed. “because you grew up in texas?”

azzi shuffles uncomfortably, because no, she did not grow up in texas. she didn’t really grow up anywhere, because she’d been scouted at 14 and had been doing random modeling gigs in states a far-cry from home since. so she hums, a little wary to reply, and monica raises an overly judgmental eyebrow.

“well, no,” azzi starts, and monica immediately lets out the biggest sigh known to man. seriously, her shoulders heave with the effort of it. azzi does her best not to roll her eyes. “but i’m honest, and being honest means not doing a texas shoot in new york city.”

there’s not really anything monica can do – azzi’s already been signed for the cover. that won’t stop her from complaining, though, as she pushes her keyboard closer to the edge of her desk. “you’re lucky you’re hot, because you’re a major pain in my ass.”

azzis entire team scrambles for the next three days, trying to find literally anyone willing to accommodate a dozen interns and photographers. it doesn’t help that the scrambling is very last minute – they’d all been under the assumption that someone (monica) would be able to talk some level of sense into azzi. she hadn’t.

monica doesn’t call her again until friday, and she sounds very unamused when azzi picks up. “i just had dale send you pictures. please check and see if it fits your ultra-specific needs, your royal highn-ass.”

azzi’s sitting on her kitchen barstool, kicking her feet as she puts monica on speaker and moves to imessage. in the past few years she’s gotten exceptionally good at ignoring monicas tone. she does so now, humming out a contented “ooooh yeah,” when the photos appear. “this is cool.” azzi twists, moving to set her phone down on the counter and resting her chin in her hands as she swipes through each image. “who’s the cowboy?”

“it’s a cowgirl. and she negotiated $25,000 out of us.”

azzi gapes. “holy shit.”

“yeah, apparently it's part of her charm,” monica scoffs. “dale offered her money she, quote unquote, ‘couldn’t refuse’, and then when she did refuse, she decided she wanted to add an inconvenience fee. of $5,000.” monica groans, like the money is coming out of her pocket. “and then allegedly dale sassed her about it." azzi can't see monica, but she can imagine the way she lifts her hand in irritation. really, dale? "she ended up making him double our original offer of 10 grand.”

azzi is suddenly very interested in this haggling cowgirl. “she sounds real," she grins.

monica is decidedly not interested. “she better be fuckin’ real,” she grumbles. “nearly 25 grand for some field we could’ve photoshopped.”

the sun is setting when paige finally sits down, elbows meeting the kitchen counter with little grace. the windows above her sink let pretty light scatter in, making the dust in the air look a little more like glitter. she squints at her newest email.

from: monica@frameworkmgmt.com subject: Vogue - Contract Details attachments: 3

each attachment is a pdf with varying versions of the subject "contract details". the font seems to get smaller with each one she opens. paige isn’t stupid, but she thinks half of the words in them are made up – corporate city folk must walk around with dictionaries and thesauruses, trying to one-up the laymen around them with language like synergy and bandwidth.

the further she scrolls, the more azzi fudd’s name seems to appear; in headers, footers, sprinkled throughout like an adjective and bolded like a statement. paige comes to the reasonable conclusion that this must be what all the fuss surrounding her farm is about, and she opens a new tab to investigate: azzi fudd net worth.

google estimates 4.3 million. paige resists the urge to roll her eyes. for all that money, you’d think she could afford to be normal.

paige switches to images and is greeted with a typical model: tall and objectively gorgeous, with dark curls framing her face and manicured nails that have likely never touched dirt. she’s apparently going to be on the cover of vogue's newest edition: cowboy couture, (paige googles the word couture next and does roll her eyes).

she has been instructed not to talk about the cover, lest it be “leaked”. which is ridiculous, because paige doubts anyone in a fifty mile radius knows what vogue is, let alone gives a shit about it. she sure doesn’t.

the side door creaks then, and paige spares a glance at the taller shadow now entering the kitchen. drew is 15, looking tanner since school let out, and he’s balancing an oversized bag of chicken feed in his hands. he kicks the door shut with his heel, letting out an exaggerated phew! at the foods weight.

paige squints. “why didn’t you leave that in the barn?”

her brother huffs like he can’t be bothered to answer, dropping the bag unceremoniously by the door. “the raccoons got into it last night.”

“we’re gonna have to get one of them tubs to put it in,” paige says. “i ain’t draggin’ that back and forth between the coop everyday.”

drew rolls his eyes, choosing not to add fuel to paiges complaining as he kicks his boots off. when he’s done, he meanders over to where she’s sitting, looking over her shoulder curiously. “did you sign it?”

paige hums, leaning back in her chair and gesturing vaguely in the direction of her laptop. “no,” she replies. “i’ve been too busy trying to figure out what a ‘lookbook’ day is.”

paige reaches into a bag on the counter, drops a few sunflower seeds in her mouth, and chews with mock-interest as she clicks back over to the azzi fudd net worth tab. “also, the chicks worth more than this town apparently.”

drew snorts, looking equally uninterested in the model. “cool. maybe she can buy it and bulldoze riley’s house.”

paige barks a laugh. “from your mouth to God’s ears.”

a week later, azzi pulls into paige's driveway.

well, azzi’s driver pulls into paiges driveway. if you can even call it that. it’s gravel, not pavement, and there are huge divots where water has eroded the path. their two-wheel drive cadillac escalade is doing its very best in the terrain, but it looks obnoxiously sleek in the dirt.

the car comes to a stop just outside the farmhouse, and everyone in the vehicle holds their breath as the rocks beneath it shift. the house in front of them was probably gorgeous in its prime, built from red-painted wood siding, and naturally distressed by years of standing.

boasting two stories, the front door leads out onto a… well loved, azzi thinks, porch. one of the steps up to it is broken on one side, hanging uselessly, and one of the boards across the center looks suspiciously brand new. an oil lamp swings from a hook at the front, and azzi wonders what century they’ve stepped into.

or what century has stepped out of it, because just as the thought passes, the door swings open, and azzis eyes land on quite possibly the hottest woman she has ever bared witness to.

she’s tall, maybe even taller than azzi, wearing a loose tank top that looks to have originally been a t-shirt. she does have boots on, (azzi feels a little self-satisfied that people do wear boots in real life) but they’re covered by straight-legged cargos fraying at the edges.

upon closer inspection (from the safety of her cadillacs tinted windows) the corners of each cargo pocket have lazily stitched cloth in them – fixed with material that conveniently matches the faded black of her shirt.

hot and crafty – this cowgirl might be God.

azzi feels a little dazed as she steps out of the vehicle, waving politely at her driver. he’s looking in the rearview mirror, eyebrows furrowed in thinly-veiled concern.

paige does not say hi, or even introduce herself. she just leans over the porches splintering guardrail, forearms braced against it, and shouts, “is he gonna be able to get out of here?”

azzi glances skeptically over at her driver, who looks like he’s asking himself the same question. then he throws the vehicle into reverse, presses on the gas, and sits stiffly as the wheels spin.

boots thump against gravel. “is that thing two wheel drive?”

azzi scrunches her nose, glancing back at the driver. he nods sheepishly. paige raises an eyebrow. the entire scene is absolutely ridiculous.

after a few more embarrassingly long seconds, paige sighs and pulls her phone out. it rings once, twice, then three times before someone picks up.

“answer your phone faster,” she grunts. there's light bickering on the other end of the phone, words azzi can’t make out, and then paige says, “i need you to come out here with one of them wood panels from the basement.”

azzi thinks she hears “why?” from the phone and has to school the smile off her face. there has to be a sibling on the other end of the line – at least, she hopes its a sibling. it could be a girlfriend. that would be tragic.

paige rolls her eyes. “there’s a cadillac stuck in our drive.”

a few minutes pass, filled by paige's silent judgement of their vehicle, before a kid emerges on the front porch. he looks young, tanner than paige and not quite as muscular, in basketball shorts and a tank top. definitely not a girlfriend.

he shuffles over to paige, straightening when he notices azzi’s stare. “hi, i’m drew.”

“azzi,” she smiles. finally, someone with manners. “your house is beautiful.”

their conversation is interrupted by paige throwing the panel down behind the back tires. when she stands up straight again, she slaps the side of the vehicle like it's a horse and azzi winces, completely involuntarily. she sheepishly glances over at the driver for a reaction, but he seems to have resigned himself to the situation.

paige circles around then, peering in through the driver-side window. “do not floor it,” she says. “go slow. and the turn radius on this thing is awful, so you’re probably going to have to reverse a few times.” then she glances behind her shoulder, eyeing the ground for a second. “unless you think you can pull a U-ey in the field.”

azzi does not, in fact, think anyone is going to be pulling a U-ey in this field. her driver is silent, likely trying to save himself further humiliation. paige shrugs like she’d expected as much and then backs up, jerking her head to the side. “give her a try.”

the driver presses on the gas, the engine giving a low, strained noise like it, too, was embarrassed to be there. paige looks entirely unimpressed, even as the escalade catches on panel and jerks. when it rolls off the wood, it reverses like there was never an issue to begin with. the driver sighs in relief. “thank God.”

“thank paige,” she corrects.

azzi doesn’t think she’s ever seen a car look rushed before, but her cadillac peels out of the driveway like it has somewhere to be. and now she’s standing alone in a gravel drive with a mildly irritated looking cowgirl and her younger brother.

paige gives her one deeply unimpressed up-and-down look, eyes likely catching on the dior engraving on her shoes, before turning back to the house. azzi stands in place for a second, brain lagging, before she jogs to catch up.

paige steps over the broken step with ease, not even sparing a glance back as she pulls the handle of her screen door. “don’t break your ankle. stairs need fixed.”

okay. so hot, crafty, and apparently holding a strong disinterest in azzi. cool.

she’s led back into their kitchen. it looks like they’ve already eaten, a bowl of green beans sitting on the counter and two abandoned plates in the sink. drew and paige. definitely no girlfriend. score.

except that paige doesn’t seem to be looking for one. especially not in her. she leans onto the kitchen island, looking at azzi who is standing rather awkwardly in the entrance to the room. “i thought i’s’sposed to be pickin’ you up tomorrow mornin'?”

“uhh,” azzi answers, brain short circuiting for a moment. no one in the history of ever has looked so hot leaned against a counter top – tanned forearms, broad shoulders... the silence has drew lifting his head. “well – my team got into amarillo late,” she explains, finally. “and nico didn’t want to be driving in the dark –”

“oh, no, of course not” paige cuts in, eyes wide with mock concern. “wouldn’t want that cadillac to see a dirt road.”

azzi blinks. she was already nervous about talking to paige, and now her planned conversation has been derailed. she's not really sure how to respond.

paige lifts a glass to her mouth, drinking loudly, and then adds, “it might explode.”

azzi gives a weak laugh. “anyways..” she starts awkwardly. “they um, they thought they could drop me off here. and you could, like, take me into town.”

paige's jaw nearly drops. it’s the most emotion azzi thinks shes seen from her all night. “they’re not coming back for you?”

azzi glances unsurely at drew for help. he offers none. “no?” her response lilts at the end like a question, even though it most definitely is not one. her only vehicle is already northbound for amarillo. no one is coming back for her. “how far is talco?” she asks, hoping to change the subject. “like ten minutes?”

suddenly, paige looks very amused, a smirking pulling at her liips as her fingers tap against the countertop. it’s worrying. “ohh,” she replies. “i didn’t realize you were staying in talco. it’s like eight minutes from here.”

she sets her glass down, rounding the corner. she looks kind of like a wild cat stalking prey. in any other scenario, azzi would find it hot. “have you checked it out yet?” she asks.

azzi shakes her head, sensing trouble. “i haven’t.”

“have you seen schitts creek?”

“..no.”

“you’re about to,” paige says.

azzi feels her concern grow rampantly. this night has gone from awkward to awful. “what is that, a movie?”

there's the distinct sound of keys being grabbed off the counter. azzi’s so stressed she doesn’t even have time to linger on the tendons in paige's hand, the way her long fingers hook onto the metal of it – alright, she lingers for a second. paige is still smirking. “c’mon, hollywood. haelyn’s going to love you.”

dread curls low in azzis stomach.

the entire eight minute drive is silent.

like, completely silent.

gravel had crunched underneath the truck as they left, and the engine had sputtered in a way that made azzi believe for a moment that the truck might die, but that had been it. no radio – not even static. she wasn’t even sure paige was breathing. azzi had considered opening the door of paige’s f-250 and jumping out. she hadn’t been able to find the handle.

finally seeing the lights of talco felt like finding the holy grail; salvation in the shape of a sign reading population: 258. that is, until paige's truck sputters to a stop outside of the red sky inn. and it is nothing like azzi had imagined.

“um..” she begins, eloquently. “is this it?”

paige nods, face perfectly schooled into a careless expression. so perfectly schooled, in fact, azzi could be convinced that paige actually doesn’t give a fuck.

she leans forward in her seat, the leather of it creaking in protest, and squints. “i don’t think it is.”

paige doesn’t even consider. “it is.”

is it, though?

the motel looks like it's falling apart. and that's being generous. it's built with cheap white vinyl, cracked and unattractively sun bleached in all the wrong places. the bottom foundation is brick, which maybe could have been nice if the grout in between each piece wasn’t the color of dried blood. resembling the setting for a serial killers netflix documentary, azzi has no doubt that someone is definitely hiding bodies here.

azzi twists to look behind them, then in front, and then back to paige. she’s more than a little anxious. “how can you be sure?”

“this is the only motel in town,” she deadpans.

“there has to –”

“i grew up here,” paige cuts in, careless. “this is it. red sky inn. welcome to talco, texas.”

a beat.

okay, so, paige is not funny. at all. but she’s got this little amused glint in her eye, like this is what must have been so funny in the kitchen, and azzi realizes then that she knew. paige had let azzi pack up her dior skincare and silk pajamas into the back of this truck with the knowledge that she was booking a ticket to a meth lab.

no, paige is not funny. paige is evil. like a siren, she uses her bulky muscle and long fingers to lead confused city girls straight to trashy motels in nowhere, america.

azzi’s going to have a breakdown in the passenger seat of this beat up ford.

at her silence, paige raises an eyebrow. “did you not look before you booked it?”

azzi’s jaw drops just slightly, like the insinuation baffles her. “i don’t book my own hotels,” she says, scandalized. her brows furrow out the window �� her manager books her hotels. her manager who is now dead to her.

“okay, well,” paige starts. azzi thinks paige might laugh, although the sound is dry and she doesn’t smile when she does it, just kind of huffs. “this isn’t a hotel, first of all. M as in motel.” paige gestures to one of the doors out front, white with broken screening that’s been taped shut. “and you’re gonna have to go ask haelyn for your key.”

azzi shifts awkwardly. please get me out of this.

there has to be some other option. she has stayed in nothing but five-star mini penthouses since her career took off. “i was hoping it would be… a little nicer,” she says, sheepishly side-eyeing paige. perhaps if she looks pathetic and lost enough, this obviously unamused cowgirl will take pity and drive her to the nearest city.

paige does not take pity. matter of fact, no matter how pathetic azzi seems to appear, she has yet to do anything more than glance in azzi’s direction. instead, she scoffs, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel. “well, hope ain’t a plan, sweetheart.”

okay. well. azzi’s fucked. and now she has to go meet stupid harley or haelyn or whatever the fuck, and hope that her room isn’t infested with bedbugs or lice. azzi takes in a deep breath to psyche herself up for this dooms-night and reaches for the handle of the door.

she meets nothing.

“uhhh,” azzi hums, which is something she seems to be doing a lot lately. uhhh, ummmm, hmmm…. please fill my sentence for me, because i clearly have forgotten how to function.

paige looks over. this must be a common issue with people in her vehicle, (or maybe they’re soulmates and paige can read her mind) because she doesn’t have to ask azzi what uhhh is supposed to denote. “handles at the bottom of the – nope, to the – yup.”

who the hell puts a door handle there?

azzi barely gets her luggage out of the backseat before paige is leaning over. “see you tomorrow, hollywood.”

azzi yanks her suitcase with a little more force than necessary, stumbling a little as it gets caught in one of the cracks on the staircase up to the motel. i’m from fucking new york, dickweed.

[the-library-alcove]

Annotated Debate Between Hen Mazzig and Kei Pritsker

Source

Full text and commentary under the cut, original annotations done on Google Docs here, being shared here on tumblr due to some people being unable to see the comments.

Commentators include myself, @strangestructures, and several others.

~~~~

Hen Mazzig: My name is Hen Mazzig. I’m an Israeli author, activist, advocate and founder of the Tel Aviv Institute. I was born and raised in Israel. My family came from Iraq and North Africa and I live in London today with my partner. He is not Jewish. My focus is on Jewish advocacy and fighting antisemitism and hate online in all its forms.

Kei Pritsker: I’m Kei Pritsker. I’m co-director of The Encampments. I’m a journalist with Breakthrough News.

(Here is Kei's Canary Mission profile; https://canarymission.org/individual/Kei_Pritsker)

HM: I was just interested in your background, Kei.

KP: I mean I’m a journalist, I’m a student activist. I was involved in the Palestinian student groups. This is an issue I’ve been involved in heavily for a big period of my life.

(Kei refuses to give any personal background, sticking solely to professional, in contrast to how Hen gives both his personal and professional background in relation to this conflict.

Yeah, I tried to look him up online and there's nothing about him. I could confirm that he's been involved in anti-Israel activism since at least 2017 (source: canary mission), so at least he's right that it's been a big period, not just since oct. 7.)

HM: Got it, OK sorry.

I want to start with a current event; we’ve had a couple in the past few weeks that speak to both your areas of expertise. First with the Mahmoud Khalil arrest and deportation proceedings, and then the Mohsen Mahdawi case more recently. I wonder if each of you can describe how you feel about both cases. Kei, this in your wheelhouse, maybe you can start.

KP: Ya, I mean it was really horrifying to wake up to that news of Mahmoud being arrested. Our team found out like everyone else just on social media or news notifications. Having known him this was particularly devastating. But the way I see this is as something that really reflects the success of the encampments movement and the Palestine movement. The reason this is happening — the reason Mahmoud was arrested — his only crime is speaking out against the genocide and speaking in support of the Palestinian people.

(False; while Trump was doing it in a hamfisted way, there's no question that Mahmoud was in violation of the terms of his green card by supporting terrorist organizations and supporting attacking citizens. Also, Genocide Canard counter is at 1.)

And he is now being abducted.

(This language is conflation between a man held in detention but still able to communicate, and the Israeli hostages being held by Hamas)

The reason for it is Israel knows they’ve lost the narrative, they’ve lost the battle of ideas, they’ve lost the argument, and the encampment movement really proved they’ve lost the next generation.

("Israel controls the US government" Canard--presenting the crackdown as being done at the instigation and direction of the Israeli government, as if Trump wouldn't do it on his own for his own reasons)

Because of this they’ve resorted to the last tool in their toolbox, which is essentially repression, censorship. This is why there’s such a concerted effort from the Trump administration to ban pro-Palestine speech, to ban freedom of expression. I can’t even think of a country you get deported for criticizing in the United States besides Israel.

(Also that they are trying to in some way center the Palestine situation in the USA context. When they say that is only in the USA that there is this "repression" against speaking for Palestine)

So while it was initially very shocking it really seems now this is a concerted effort to criminalize speaking out for Palestine.

(Continued "Israel Controls the US Government" Canard, plus "We're just criticizing the Israeli government!" downplaying of their actions.)

Because the mood and the consciousness in the U.S. has changed so much. There was a poll that came out recently that showed that for the first time in decades American perceptions of Israel are majority negative.

(If it's the poll that's been circulating on tumblr, I looked at the numbers and posted a more detailed analysis (https://www.tumblr.com/strangestructures/782103564186189824/that-is-definitely-concerning-however-the?source=share), and the truth is still that across all age groups, there are more people with a favorable opinion of Israel than a negative one. And a lot of people, especially in the younger cohort (18-24), simply don't care.)

This is because of the work of the pro-Palestine movement and people seeing what Israel is about in the last two years and learning about the history of Zionism. People are starting to wake up to what it really is and I think they’ve lost the narrative and now they’re resorting to abductions, and it’s shameful and disgusting and I think it will blow back in their face.

Hen, what do you make both of what Kei is saying and the actions the administration has taken in recent weeks?

HM: Yeah, no it’s absolutely ridiculous to hear this response from Kei to be honest. I think that using words like abducted — we know what being abducted is; my family members and friends have been abducted on October 7 by Hamas, a terrorist group, that had been celebrated by the same people presented in this film.

(I want to add to this and note how Khalil is getting to write Op-Eds for newspapers, while hostages held by Hamas get used for propaganda videos)

And to speak to us about how the Trump administration is being controlled by Israel — somehow Israel is infiltrating America while with the encampments on college campuses, specifically campuses that have been bankrolled by Qatar, funders of Hamas gave billions of dollars to those American universities and in the last few years we’ve seen the radicalization of these students.

(Kei ignores and don't mention this point. I don't know if is because he knows or because he knows that even mentioning it is going to make him look bad)

While I’m personally not a supporter of Trump or these tactics of taking people and deporting them, I think we should be very mindful of the words that we’re using. And I think [pro-Palestine activists] know what they’re doing. The reason that they’re framing it this way is to equate the students that have spent 18 months making the lives of Jewish students a living hell, that’s why they intentionally exclude from the movie any voice of Jewish students. 

[And portraying the Jewish students at the encampments] equates to “we’re not racists, we have some Black folks we can push forward.” Kanye West was quoted as saying that slavery was a choice. Is he a voice for the Black community? Of course not. No one would argue that. But here we are with encampments taking a fringe minority of American Jews that do not represent the American Jewish community which by and large is Zionist. Over 90 percent of American Jews describe a positive feeling toward Israel according to Pew Research. 

So this whole, really, charade — it’s a way to mask a lot of hatred and turn it against us, as if we’re to blame for their arrests or attacks on Jewish students who are fearing for their lives. In the encampments you hear calls like “al-Qassam’s next target.” Mahmoud Khalil has links to Hamas. The Instagram page of one of these anti-Israel groups at Columbia activating their page just moments before the attacks on Oct 7. The leader of Iran is sending them praises, Ali Khamenei saying, “I’m so proud of what you’re doing.”

(This, exactly; he's not being deported for "protesting Israel", he's being deported for supporting terrorists.

Also add that when is convenient they ignore that they received Iran's support. They probably try to clean themselves as an effort of making propaganda against them.)

I mean I would be ashamed. I would not be saying this is a success. I don’t even know how they can hold both arguments in their heads, to say “we are being silenced ” while we’re seeing this everywhere in the media, from The New York Times to CNN to BBC, everyone is covering it as if it’s the only conflict that ever happened in the world, as if it’s the only war, while in Sudan or in Darfur — I don’t want to get into whataboutism so I won’t even name the countries that are having far worse human rights violations that are getting zero attention. 

So I think the question here is why are we talking about those students that have used hate speech against Jews specifically for over 18 months as being the targets but not speaking of actual victims of deportation? Why are we talking about privileged students at Columbia that can afford hundreds of thousands of dollars to attend those universities and they’re becoming the victim? It’s very bizarre to me.

Kei, what do you make of Hen’s assertion that in your movie pro-Israel Jewish voices were not platformed, and that conversely some of the backgrounds of pro-Palestinian activists were played down?

KP: Hen, did you watch our film? 

HM: Absolutely.

KP: Yeah I mean so there’s a whole scene dedicated to the pro-Israel presence at these encampments and how these pro-Israel students would go up to the encampments and tell people “you should be raped, I hope you’re raped,” “you should be killed, if you went to Gaza you’d be killed—

(So no actual reporting on pro-Israel Jews, no discussion, just one scene of them shouting at the encampments. Though I do admit this went too far.)

HM [sarcastically]: Raped? Why would they use this example?

KP: —for being gay.” There was also this lynch mob, the pro-Israel lynch mob that descended on UCLA and actually dragged students out of the encampments and beat them bloody and also fired fireworks into the encampments, which very well can kill people. You know, we did show both sides.

("Show both sides" = "cherry pick one example")

We showed what pro-Israel students said to the pro-Palestine side and we also showed the non-Zionist pro-Palestine Jewish students as well because quite frankly the media coverage you’re talking about — Hen you said the media coverage of the encampments was wall-to-wall coverage. You’re right but the coverage was 100 percent slanted in favor of Israel.

(Bullshit; media biases have been consistently in favor of Hamas on the Left.  Also, "Jews control the media" canard.)

All the coverage was talking about alleged antisemitism, people being attacked and “oh my god it’s these dens of violence.”

(Supposedly the fact that there is a reporting in antisemitism that there is in the encampments it make is automatically pro-Israel because is against the movement. This is a false equivalence.)

Not only was there no truth to that, not only was there no video of that shown which, by the way, in the October 8 film there’s no video or evidence shown of any Jewish students being attacked.

(Funny, I've seen plenty of videos of people from these encampments attacking Jews, threatening them, or otherwise engaging in violence--typically while having their faces covered.

There's also the whole "not letting jews get to class" by putting the encampments in the way thing. Not sure to what extent blocking someone's path counts as violence, but...)

The evidence they put forward of antisemitism was people saying “Free Palestine” or “From the River to the Sea.” Yes the media coverage was wall to wall — obsessing over antisemitism that didn’t exist.

(Jews don't get to define antisemitism canard, plus the whole denial of a hostile environment.)

The purpose of putting our film out was to balance the unfair coverage of the media — which by the way was coming from people who never stepped foot in an encampment. I was there, I lived in the Columbia encampment for 12 days. Hen, the reason I live in the United States is because on my father’s side my grandparents were kicked out of Ukraine because of antisemitic pogroms.

(See, this would have been something to mention back at the start, Kei.  But your choice of words are interesting, because it makes it very clear that you weren't raised as a Jew, and the closest Jewish connection you can claim is two generations back.)

If I saw real antisemitism there I would have left, I would have covered it, I would have said something about it. I didn’t see it at all. 

(This isn't Real antisemitism Canard)

What we wanted to cover was the anti-Zionist Jewish students, which is a growing phenomenon, thousands, tens of thousands, millions of young Jews in the United States

(eyeroll There aren't "millions of young Jews" in the entire world, just as a matter of demographics.  Unless you're somehow claiming that every Jew under 30 is an "antizionist", then mathematically can't be, and that's before we even get into the fact that the number of antizionist Jews is somewhere in the ballpark of at most one million Jews.  at most, being under ten percent of fifteen million people. So this is the "Silent Moral Majority" logical fallacy.

They also seem to not realize that when centering in the anti-Zionist jews they are not showing a jewish perspective because the other parts of the group, the ones that don't have an opinion or are zionist, are not considered for the film and also banned from the encampments.)

are realizing their Judaism doesn’t have to be tied to Jewish ultranationalism,

(Redefining zionism canard)

or a Jewish ethnostate

(ethnostate canard)

that kills people, that bombs hospitals, that bombs schools

(falling for Hamas' policy of why they use human shields the way they do)

and says that Palestinians have no right to live in their country of origin.

(Generalizing the opinions of the Israeli far-right as being the common one from the in all Israelis)

Jews are reacting to that en masse. So that’s my goal. To balance out the narrative which was completely skewed by the mainstream media.

("Jews control the media" canard)

We put something out and let the students speak for themselves.

Hen, Kei is making the point that there was a lot of vilification happening of these students, whether from the media or elected officials. What would your response to that be? And particularly in terms of Jewish protesters, we see in the film scenes of Jewish students who are actively practicing their Judaism in the encampments,

(I'm sure they exist, but I also can't help but think about the JVP "seder plate" and "sukkah". In general, the way Judaism is practiced in the camp feels very performative, and in many cases it's quite noticeable that these are people for whom practicing Judaism is unusual, either because they are disconnected from their community or because they are not actually Jews.)

and who are making a case for being Jewish without the state of Israel. How should we be looking at them in your view?

HM: Ya. I mean there are anti-Zionist Jews that exist in the world. For some reason they receive the majority of the representation in this film. That is my issue. The majority of American Jews are Zionists and you can add another seven million Jews in Israel. So you can say it’s a “growing phenomenon” but there are a lot of “growing phenomena” that are still very small and not representative. It’s like saying Caitlyn Jenner speaks for all trans women. No one would make this argument but here we are able to tokenize a minority, a fringe community, and weaponize it against us. It’s not because they care about Jews and wants Jews to be represented. It’s that they hate us so much that they’re doing this and gaslighting us. I’m sorry I’m getting passionate but it’s really I feel like they’re living in a different universe. I’ve seen the videos on these campuses — not the encampments because for some reason I’m not allowed there — but I’ve seen the violence in the videos of these young Jewish students that send them to me and they’re afraid for their safety. They kidnapped a janitor that was not even Jewish in Columbia.

(This is ignored by Kei and doesn't try to refute it.)

For anyone to say there was not antisemitism in the encampments is completely ludicrous. They weren’t saying support Palestine, they were calling for support for Hamas. 

Even the October 8 film that Kei was mentioning there were clips of protesters saying they were Hamas, a terrorist organization that brutalized and killed over 1,000 Israelis on October 7 — kidnapped, killed babies, raped people. That’s why a lot of Jewish students were so upset and were calling out the rape of young girls that came back from Hamas captivity and testified about rape. We have recorded testimony of rape from a former hostage, Amit Soussana, and instead of engaging with that she was gaslighted and told she was lying. I’m sure that’s where those comments came from about rape. They are terrible comments. But I also think we need to recognize the pain Jewish students are going through. So if it’s true that someone said that someone should be raped, and I don’t know if it really happened, but if it happened I think it’s horrible and I also think it’s horrible to tell Jewish women they weren’t raped, and to deny it and say that Jews aren’t in danger when their dorms are being vandalized and the chants of “Zionists Get Out” when we know the majority of Jews are Zionists. How do you expect them to feel? Most Jews believe in Israel’s right to exist — that’s what Zionism is. So this chant is coded hate against Jews. 

Kei, you’re privileged enough not to feel intimidated, good for you. The majority of Jewish students that I know and have spoken to, the majority of Jews in America, have a completely different experience than you. So it’s great you’re able to be a part of a tiny, tiny piece of the Jewish community and you take this and put your energy into presenting something but it’s just not the truth and it’s not reality and it’s completely whitewashing the violence and the hate that has been documented over and over again. You can see it anywhere, anyone can Google it, I don’t even need to cite it because there’s so much of it.

KP: if you’re saying there was violence that took place, tell me what happened.

(Hen gave specific citations and examples, so this qualifies as a goalpost move.  "No violence occurred."  "Yes it did, here are some specific examples."  "Give me more examples.")

HM: Oh you think if you put a sign that says “al-Qassam’s next target” is that an issue for you or is that something legitimate? Is that a call for violence or not?

KP: Sorry, well you said someone was attacked. Who got attacked?

HM: I’ll find you some — I mean everyone can Google all of those cases but yeah there were Jewish students that were attacked. In Los Angeles I remember the bloody face of the student that was attacked.

KP: Yeah those were students in the Palestine encampment. It’s in our film; did you watch our film? Those students in the Palestine encampment that were ripped out and beaten by a Zionist mob and they fired fireworks into the UCLA encampments.

(Double standard of the violence only committed against the encampment are the ones that should be critize.)

That was pro-Israel violence. Those were pro-Israel people that beat up pro-Palestinian students. Who were the Jewish students who were attacked again?

HM: Do you think that calling to kill Jewish students is ok? That’s not attack, that’s not violence for you?

KP: I don’t agree with it. But it’s speech. It’s not violence.

(This is coming from the same ideology that views misgendering someone as an act of violence, but apparently saying someone is a terrorist group's next target is just "free speech".  Please note the parallel with the same sort of behavior on the Right.)

HM: Oh it’s speech? To call someone to be killed is speech Kei? Are you serious?

KP: I don’t agree with it. But you said someone was attacked.

HM: I’m sending links, don’t worry, I’m sending links. Here you go. [Links appear in chat.] This is one link to an incident with two Jewish students at DePaul. Don’t worry I’ll get you all the links and all the sources.

If I can distill what you both are saying a little. There seemed to be incidents that everyone here would agree are troubling. Telling a Jewish student they’re al-Qassam’s next target or to go back to Poland is not the kind of speech I think we can all agree should be used. Kei I guess the question as I hear it from Hen is whether you feel this was the norm, the culture, or this was anomalous or outside the encampment.

KP: So that’s exactly what I’m saying. Hen is kind of proving my point with the articles he’s sending. These articles are not from the encampments. I’m not speaking for every single person that has ever said “Free Palestine” in their life. I’m just saying the attacks he’s alleged weren’t attacks that took place at the encampments. [Looks at chat]. I mean you’re just spamming—

(Goalpost move; "Show me violence" shows violence  "these cases aren't valid because I have moved the goalposts, and you're spamming anyway, because these aren't valid evidence since I've moved the goalpost."

The goal post moved is the one of Violence on the Campus to violence in the encampments. Kei or he didn't remembered Hen point or he didn't heard it)

HM: Sorry, I’m sending too many examples of attacks on Jews.

KP: No, I mean you said a Jewish student was attacked.

HM: I said Jewish students were attacked. There were attacks of Jewish students in their dorms, there was an example of Jews in California attacked outside a synagogue. You say it wasn’t part of the encampment, it’s hard to identify when they have masks on. But this type of spirit is the one that is leading to violence against Jews. if you want to tell me that Jews were not attacked then we have a different issue and I mean you live in a different reality.

KP: So again what I’m saying is there were not attacks on Jewish students in encampments and none of these [links] are examples of that.

("I wonder why there are no attacks on a minority in a space that isn't allowed inside of it")

HM: Because they weren’t allowed in.

KP: And moreover there’s ample evidence of pro-Israel students attacking the encampments. I’m not speaking for every single protest that there was no bad conduct. I think we can all agree that anyone being attacked — that violence is not acceptable, that we shouldn’t be attacking people for their opinions. What I’m saying is that someone saying “from the river to the sea” — it’s in our film, a whistleblower who worked for Columbia and logged these cases of alleged antisemitism and a lot of it was people saying that or wearing a keffiyeh to class.

("Tu quque" fallacy, goalpost move, and several other fallacies--"there isn't any violence on his side, but even if there is, the Zionists do it too!  And besides, there hasn't been any violence inside of the encampments, and any examples of violence outside are downplayed and presented as "alleged antisemitism" or people chanting slogans or wearing a keffiyah, so the real violence is coming from the Zionists!")

These are not antisemitic things, these are people calling for an end to a 75-year occupation and humans rights abuses that have been condemned worldwide.

("Israel itself is illegitimate" canard)

It’s legitimate speech against — ironically — an actual violent occupation that’s happening in Palestine. 

Like that’s the thing that gets me — everyone keeps talking about “Jewish students feel unsafe because they see flags waving.”

(I mean, given the behavior they regularly see from people carrying these flags, yeah, it makes sense. I also feel concerned when I see a Palestinian flag waving these days, and I'm not even Jewish!

Also says a lot, because there have been repeated instances of people aligned with Kai saying that the Israeli flag makes Palestinians feel "unsafe".  So rules for thee but not for me, etc.

Oh yeah, didn't think about that. The reaction to the Israeli flag is a good example, for me, of the "Israel is ontologically evil" thing.)

Meanwhile the students are protesting an actual situation where entire cities are being wiped off the face of the earth.

(Exaggeration, and also falling for Hamas' human shields policy again)

Hen you have yet to say anything about that fact — you talk about the students on these campuses as privileged or whatever or people feeling unsafe walking to their dorms, but what about the fact that Israel has destroyed every single university in Gaza?

(Stripping context of this, along with the other accusations, to demonize Israel, instead of acknowledging that the reason for the destruction is because Hamas uses civilian infrastructure as shields.  But stated like this, it's this narrative that Israel just blows up hospitals, schools, and other civilian infrastructure just because they can out of simple cruelty, instead of "they have to because terrorists are using them as shields")

That’s what our film is about.

(I mean, as far as I understand the film is not about Gaza directly, but about anti-Israel activism at American universities, which is exactly what the discussion has been about. So yeah, definitely moving the goalposts.)

What do you have to say about that? What do you have to say about the safety of the Palestinian students?

HM: Ya I’ll speak about this in a second. I just want to point out that i did not say there were peaceful signs that triggered Jewish students. It was a student holding a sign that said “al-Qassam’s next target” with an arrow pointing to the Jewish student. Of course there was no violence in the encampments — the encampments were closed to Jewish students—

KP: —No that’s not true, there were Jewish students in the Columbia encampment in our film—

("We have tokens that we trot out to defend ourselves against accusations of bigotry!")

HM: —if i can finish my sentence. They were closed for Jewish students that would not sign off and say that they hate half of the world’s Jewish population in Israel.

(Kei ignores and doesn't engage in this part even to deny it. Also he ignores that a member of a minority is expressing how he is perceiving those attacks. That is a double standard.)

If they’re not going to say it they’re not going to get in. That’s why the attacks didn’t happen in the encampments — because there was no one to challenge [organizers]. They closed them down and made sure it would be a sterile area for Jews — not all Jews, the 90 percent of Jews that are Zionists in America. And for those students in the encampments — I mean I heard those testimonies of them not having humanitarian aid or getting enough food and I found it a bit bizarre. For someone who is advocating for peace for both Israelis and Palestinians and has been for years now, as someone who spent five years as a humanitarian officer working on building hospitals in Gaza and the West Bank and Hebron and Ramallah and building schools for Palestinians, it’s been part of my work so I’m deeply committed to promoting peace through building bridges this way. The situation in Gaza is horrific, it’s absolutely horrific. It’s been horrific since October 7 when the world was silent about what happened and it’s been horrific since then. 

You can quote Anthony Blinken saying that the protests around the world are part of what emboldened Hamas. Hamas continues to hold hostages, continues to oppress Palestinians in Gaza, and while according to what Kei is describing is one of the worst situations ever and yet they still refuse to release the hostages, they still refuse to end it. You know if they released the hostages there would not be justification to continue this war; this war would be over. We haven’t heard anyone in the encampments actually say this. “Why don’t you call for the release of the hostages,” someone asked them. They said “well, you know it goes without saying.” But everything else you need to say and  this fact you conveniently ignore?

If the hostages would be released the war would be over. Women have been raped in Gaza by Hamas and they haven’t said a word about it. Well they have said a word about it — they said you shouldn’t believe those Israeli women and said that those babies deserve to be killed because they live in Israel. While ignoring far worse human rights violations and getting praised from the Supreme Leader of Iran, one of the most brutal countries in the world for gay people. But they haven’t protested for those gay people, for gay Iranians, they haven’t said a word about them. They have an issue with Israel because according to what Kei is saying it’s an ethnostate. Show me another country in the Middle East that isn’t an ethnostate. But what type of ethnicity are we talking about? It is the Jewish one or the Arab one? My family is from Iraq and Tunisia, we have the same ethnicity. 

One last thing — this movie would have much more credibility if they didn’t have someone like Macklemore producing it. Someone who engaged in antisemitism and wore a Jewish nose and had Jewface on at a concert and he took up the Palestinian cause and is producing movies. Just very interesting why you’d be OK with someone that engaged in antisemitism to be the face of this movie. Would you be OK with someone that engaged in racism to be the face of a movie about the Black community?

KP: What’s this Macklemore issue?

(Out of all the things Hen said, Kei only concentrates on the one that affects him personally.)

HM: Why, it’s not a part of your film?

KP: I don’t know, what’s your issue with Macklemore?

HM: I’m asking if it’s a part of your film.

KP: If what’s a part of my film?

If Macklemore produced the film. He was an ep, yes?

KP: Ya he’s the executive producer.

HM: Yeah, so he has been criticized by the Jewish community for wearing a caricature of a Jewish nose onstage and Jewish beard and engaging in antisemitism to the point that he had to issue a public apology [in 2014] for what he did on stage in front of thousands of people.

KP: So I mean I actually didn’t know about this and just looked it up briefly and it looks like he apologized for it. It sounds like he made a mistake and I believe in people’s capacity to grow and apologize. As long as I’ve known him I’ve not gotten the sense he has an antisemitic bone in his body.

(And who are you that gets to decide that, Kei, as someone who is apparently outside of the Jewish community?)

He’s always talking to Jews and he’s been very outspoken about the issue of Palestine, that’s why we brought him on. Because he was someone who was outspoken after the genocide

(Genocide canard counter 2)

began, at great risk to his own career.

(I feel like the people defending Israel are at greater risk of being ostracized in creative communities, which destroys careers. But there were a few cases of people going too far and losing their jobs, so now anyone who "supports Palestine" is a potential martyr. And that's what they want to be, martyrs, because it puts them front and center and shows what good people they are.

Is this a form of getting the consequences out of proportion and center more in the "persecution" of the Pro-Palestine side than in the real numbers?)

So that’s why we chose him, and you know I can’t speak to anyone’s past but it sounds like— 

HM: I’m sorry, I’m sorry to interrupt it’s just really important that we point it out, Macklemore wore a long nose onstage with a Hasidic outfit and marked the Jewish community. This is directly leading to violence against Jews and we know that. Kei be honest, would you accept someone that used blackface?

KP: No, no of course not. But it looks like he apologized.

(You don't even know the details, but "it looks like he apologized" is enough. Great, I can do anything I want as long as I give a token apology!)

HM: Would you accept someone if they apologized, would you take them as a producer, if someone used blackface?

KP: I mean again, some people have the capacity to change. And if he knows he did something wrong then that’s OK. I wasn’t aware of it.

(Gotta love the double standard.  "Blackface is verboten but Jewface is okay if they've changed.")

If I can, I think the subtext of Hen’s question here if I’m understanding correctly is whether having Macklemore on the film coupled with the lack of hostage emphasis, whether that adds up to an antisemitic strain and not just an anti-Zionist strain, is that what you mean Hen?

KP: I just think this idea if he made a mistake and he apologized and Hen you’re making him out to be this raging antisemite.

(Again, who are you to say that he isn't? You're not Jewish, Kei.)

[On the hostages], there are Palestinian hostages. Israel imprisons tens of thousands of Palestinians every year — administratively detains them without charges. Children as young as 12 for throwing rocks at armed vehicles. I think if we’re talking about hostages we should talk about releasing hostages on all sides.

(So... acts of violence are okay, so long as the targets can shoot back, eh?

This is a double standard that or the Israeli are capable of defend themselves so they are valid targets?)

I mean I don’t understand the implication, you’re saying the students are antisemitic for not talking about Israel hostages but it would never be asked of the pro-Israel side to talk about the 10,000 Palestinians in Israeli prisons.

(It's interesting how just a few lines ago, "Israel is imprisoning tens of thousands of Palestinians every year for no reason", then gives a reason, and then says that there's only ten thousand.  What happened to the previous years' batches? I'm bringing this up not just to point out Kei's routine goalpost moving, but also to point out that he also routinely exaggerates and inflates numbers, percentages, and groups as part of appeals to emotion, while, in contrast, Hen gives specific details, which are then ignored)

We’re not asking Hen to justify these things. I don’t know why the students are being made to speak about 200 Israeli hostages.

("See, they don't count, because they're not as human as Palestinians, and we don't have consistent principles that say that any hostages are bad.  And I think that people kidnapped from their beds and babies are morally equivalent to people who are assaulting others with intent to injure or kill."

Also, I'm pretty sure that if I had the choice, I'd rather spend a year as a prisoner in Israel than a month as a hostage in Palestine. A prisoner and a hostage are not the same thing!)

Hen what would you say to that?

HM: Just to clarify, the 10,000 Palestinian prisoners — hostages, as he calls them — they have committed crimes and are held in Israeli prisons, right? And they get family visits by the International Committee of the Red Cross. I’ve actually facilitated many of those visits. And the ICRC goes and makes sure they’re being treated well. In fact in the latest hostage release eight Palestinian prisoners refused to go back to Gaza because they’ve enjoyed their treatment in these prisons more than they— 

KP: That’s absurd.

("I haven't heard about it so it can't be true.")

HM: — that’s not a lot. But it’s a reminder they’re not hostages and to frame them this way is just meant to do one thing and that’s to — 

KP: Sorry, I think they probably didn’t want to go back because Israel destroyed Gaza.

(Calls it absurd and then tries to reinterpret it in his favor.)

HM: Interesting, so they’d rather stay a hostage? No Israel hostage wanted to stay in the tunnels. That’s the difference.

KP: Yes, because Israel is the one responsible for killing many of the hostages.

(Ah yes, the "Israel kills it owns people" canard.)

If Netanyahu and Israel cared so much about the hostages they wouldn’t be carpet-bombing the place where the hostages are being held.

("Carpet bombing" canard.  If Israel was actually carpet bombing the Strip, the death toll would be orders of magnitude higher.)

HM: Kei, have you been to Gaza?

KP: What?

HM: Have you been to Gaza? Have you been to a war in your life? 

KP: No but I don’t need to go to Gaza— 

("The information I've vaguely absorbed is enough for me to know everything.")

HM: So don’t say people are being killed [by Israelis]. You know each time a hostage has been killed it’s a tragedy that crushes all of us. And also civilians. Any civilians dying in this war. It’s horrific to all of us. But for you to use that, to weaponize it against me to say “your army kills hostages.”

KP: How am I weaponizing?

HM: Those hostages should not have been kidnapped by Hamas. Those hostages should not have been taken from their beds by Hamas and held in tunnels and babies should not have been kidnapped from their beds with their mothers and the women should not have been taken from her bed and raped in the Gaza tunnels. The fact that you don’t speak about it is the issue when you focus on Gaza.

KP: So here’s the reality, and it’s something the protesters have been trying to point out, that this didn’t start on October 7.

(Trying to downplay the atrocity of the 7/10 with the crimes of Israel from before as that justifies it.)

HM: When did it start? When my family was forced out of Iraq in 1941? When?

KP: I mean you can go back 100 years to the First Zionist Congress. You could go back even further.

HM: So when?

KP: So the one thing I want to point out is the premise of your film is this whole war, this genocide,

(Genocide canard counter 3)

started on October 7, on October 8.

(which is interesting, because Israel didn't respond militarily inside the Strip for weeks afterward.  The only response on those days were from people like Kai, celebrating and throwing parties. Remember that one professor who said, on October 15th, that the attack was exhilarating and that anyone who disagreed wasn't human?)

But the genocide in Gaza started in 2007 when Israel imposed a full naval, ground and air blockade on Gaza.

(So, eighteen years of genocide, in which time the population tripled?  Can I trade?  I'll exchange 4 years of genocide with a 90% death rate for 18 years where the population balloons!)

HM: They have a border with Egypt.

KP: Let me finish.

HM: They have a border with Egypt. How did Israel enforce a blockade? Because Israel is supposed to be better? Oh, so you hold Israel accountable but not Egypt.

KP: No I criticize Egypt.

HM: Oh have you protested? I haven’t seen a single sign about Egypt, not even one. Not even in your film.

KP: Because the film wasn’t about the protests. 

(Double standard with "we criticize Egypt also" but our main concern is Israel.)

HM: Oh it was about Israel.

KP: We’re absolutely critical of the Egyptian government. But hold on let me finish. In 2007 Israel imposed a full blockade of the Gaza Strip, controlling everything that goes in and out.

(Yes, because Hamas started using the Strip as a base to attack Israel with, using anything they could get their hands on.)

This policy has been described as being akin to an open-air concentration camp, and not for no reason.

(Holocaust Inversion.

I always wonder since when this is a open concentration camp and how are they supposed to be being exterminated, by dying of hunger or by the hand of Hamas?)

There was an Israeli minister of the Knesset who once joked that Israel is putting the Gazans on a diet, and what he was referring to was that Israel controls the flow of food into Gaza so much so that they can actually calculate the caloric intake of the people there.

(I find it telling that this speech is worthy of condemnation (and it is) but telling someone that they're the next murder target of a terrorist organization is "free speech".

Double standard also because this is used without even considering the time when it was said, but when someone points out the "Curse upon the Jews" of Hamas this considered outdated.)

The genocide in Gaza started long before October 7.

(Genocide canard counter 5)

There was a UN report written in 2018 saying that Gaza would be uninhabitable by 2020. Before October 7, 95 percent of the water in Gaza was unfit for human consumption; the average Palestinian in Gaza got four hours of electricity.

(Gee, I wonder why?  Is it because Hamas trashed all of the infrastructure in order to repurpose it into rockets?  Oh wait, it is!

Also, I still don't understand why Israel is supposed to be responsible for water and electricity in Gaza, a region they completely left, despite the amount of humanitarian aid Gaza gets.

Because these people think that Gaza is an "open-air concentration camp" and is thus under Israel's complete panopticon and control.)

If you put people in an open-air concentration camp why should we be surprised they try to break out?

(That wasn't trying to break out, that was a killing spree.

Says a lot about their mindset, doesn't it?

They want to clean this saying that a good chunk of the hostages were killed by Israel and that the members of Hamas that really killed someone are a minority, downplaying it.)

Just to quickly clarify, Hen was not involved in the film October 8; there may be some confusion because Debra Messing who’s on his show was an executive producer. But to amplify Kei’s point, Hen, the idea from pro-Palestinian activists that this didn’t start on October 7 but long before — some say 1967 [when Israel captured territory and borders were redrawn] or 1948 — and October 7 was not a beginning but a culmination, how do you respond to that?

KP: This is Israel’s policy and of course collective punishment is a crime against humanity. Regardless of what you think about Hamas or what their role is, to starve two million people because they had an election [in 2007] and elected a government you don’t like is a crime against humanity.

(Good thing that, according to multiple sources, including the UN, there was never famine conditions inside the Strip!)

HM: That we “don’t like.” Do you think Hamas was elected democratically? Come on.

KP: They were. There were international observers that went there and oversaw the election, whether you like it or not is not really the question.

(It was only an election in all the time that Hamas has been in power. And then they said it has been Israel fault that Hamas has been in power this long.)

HM: That’s why there’s a war. Because we don’t like an election.

KP: My point if you leave people in a condition like that, why are we acting so shocked when they decide to break out?

(No, because they keep sending rockets to Israel.

Even before this, the rockets were just the status quo, like the weather.  The war was because Hamas invaded and went on a mass murder campaign.)

Were they supposed to just sit there and accept that and say “this is my new lot in life, I’m just going to live this way, I’m never going to question it, I’m never going to do anything about it? We’re just supposed to sit there and take it?”

(Double standard, Palestine can do anything they want in retaliation but the rockets that the Israeli receive they should do nothing.)

HM: No, so we’re supposed to sit there and take it when 1,200 people are being killed— 

KP: You’re collectively punishing—

HM: That’s what you’re saying though. You’re saying that we should take it.

KP: You’re collectively punishing everyone in Gaza.

HM: You’re saying we should take it, that we should allow them, because we don’t understand what it’s like to have borders, and if you have borders you should be allowed to go and take hostages.

KP: You are collectively punishing the people of Gaza for a crime they didn’t commit. Literally for having an election.

(Ignoring Hen point and doubling down in his version that what happened in 7/10 should not have formed a reaction like that and downplaying that is because they don't like Hamas)

HM: No. No, the war is not punishment. There’s a war because of October 7. Because of the massacre of 1,200 people in one day.

KP: No there’s a war because Israel is enforcing a genocidal blockade policy in Gaza.

(Genocide canard count 6)

HM: You are supporting 1,200 people being killed and a baby being choked to death— 

KP: You’re supporting 200,000 people being killed—

(Even Hamas isn't claiming that number; why do you want another 150,000 people dead, Kei?)

Guys, I understand the passion on both sides. If we can—

HM: I have passion because I’m connected to it. It’s my family that is on the line. It’s my friends that have been killed. That’s why I’m passionate. I’m not sure—

KP: It doesn’t matter if it’s your family.

(At this point, I think that Kai has made it abundantly clear where he stands--and where his ideology stands--regarding the worth of Jewish lives to them.  I.e. Nothing.

Also being indirectly showing support to Hamas even if is contradictory.)

HM: It doesn’t matter if it’s my family?! Are you insane? No, I’m sorry Steve, I can’t— 

OK, Hen, guys, let’s bring it back — I think we all feel understandably heated, we all have stakes in this, and, again, passion. I appreciate that. Let’s bring it back to some U.S. policy. [Long pause.] So we talked a lot about the Khalil and other incidents but there’s obviously a lot going on on campuses now. We’re seeing the Trump administration take action against Harvard and Columbia in the name of antisemitism, and I want to ask both of you just in terms of this policy now, how should we feel about it? Whether it will do any good? Because I think that’s what we can all hope for is to live more peacefully, I think we can all agree with that. Hen why don’t you start and talk a little bit about what you think of this approach.

HM: I need a minute. So let him go first [goes camera-off].

KP: So again, this policy is reflective of the larger crisis here for the Trump administration, for the military-industrial complex, for Zionism, for Israel, which is that they have lost the argument especially among the younger generation.

(Is that the "Jews control the government" canard again?  Oh yes, yes it is!

Also, having looked over this whole thing again... this is almost word-for-word what he said at the beginning.  This isn't a considered statement, it's a catechism--basically a rote answer delivered without thought.)

The pro-Israel side is trying to put forward this increasingly paranoid conspiracy theory that the reason this is happening is because everyone in the world is an antisemite, that the United Nations is antisemitic, that the ICJ is antisemitic, that The New York Times is antisemitic, that Human Rights Watch is antisemitic, that Amnesty International is antisemitic, that Harvard University is antisemitic, that Columbia is antisemitic, that students are antisemitic.

(Well, of course you're not going to believe it, Kei, but we can give evidence of antisemitism at all of those organizations--often from their own internal documentation.)

But I actually think the reality is that it’s not that everyone is irrationally hateful all of a sudden against Jews.

(Again, who are you to decide what counts as antisemitism, Kei?

"...all of a sudden" as if antisemitism isn't millennia old

Don't you know that antisemitism was invented by the Nazis in 1933 and was ended by the Allies in 1945!  /s)

I think it’s that people are sick and tired of watching babies incinerated in their cribs,

(and I wonder how you saw video of that?  Who took the video, who uploaded it, and who edited it?  Which conflict did it come from? Oh, also, Blood Libel canard)

of watching people’s livelihoods destroyed, of watching entire families, entire bloodlines, wiped out.

(Unless they're Israelis, apparently)

I think people don’t like genocide.

(Genocide Canard counter 7)

And I think people are sick and tired of watching their government send money and weapons and 2,000-pound missiles to be dropped on apartment complexes and journalists.

(again with the "Israel is cruel and bombing just for shits and giggles and wanton cruelty" canard.

They really should learn why it is dangerous being a war reporter in general. Do they really think that a certification is like a force field or similar?

Don't forget that a lot of Hamas militants actively seek out being "independent journalists" in order to use that as a shield.)

Hen talks about journalists. This has actually been the deadliest conflict for journalists ever.

(Because they're all terrorists moonlighting as journalists; that's been shown repeatedly.)

Israel doesn’t want that truth out.

Kei, can I ask you just on that previous score. You mentioned a lot of organizations. I don’t want to get into specific ones but people on the right say that there is something endemic to left-wing organizations that can be antisemitic. Do you think that’s true? Clearly there are people on the right and far-right who have problems with antisemitism, I just wrote about some of them. But is is true on the left, with the pro-Palestine movement? I’ll mention this example because Hen just tweeted about it, that the suspect who tried to burn Josh Shapiro’s house down cited the Free Palestine movement. The argument is there’s a normalization that’s happening that says it’s OK to be antisemitic and can lead people like the suspect which, if he did what was alleged, to do something terrible. Is this a problem in your view in the Free Palestine movement?

KP: So with the Josh Shapiro incident, if you look at the video [the suspect] is clearly mentally ill.

("There is no systemic antisemitism on the Left.  Everyone who is antisemitic is having a mental health crisis.  There is no war in Bah Sing Se."

Also, you can look at a short video of someone and diagnose them with "mental illness". And mental illness leads directly to hate and violence against minorities, even if there's no hate against said minorities in society at large, because mentally ill people develop their hate out of thin air and are not influenced by society at large. And of course, there's the whole "mentally ill people are scary and violent" thing, which is not directly related to Israel / antisemitism, but I still found it worth pointing out. Mentally ill people are much more likely to be victims of violence than perpetrators.)

He has never posted about Palestine before. The idea that he’s some Palestinian activist is ridiculous. I think he probably has mental issues. I don’t think he has anything to do with the Palestinian movement.

("No True Palestinian activist would do this!")

So you’re not concerned about normalization of antisemitic rhetoric.

KP: Well again, what Hen is doing is making a false equivalency between anti-Zionism and antisemitism.

("Jews don't get to define antisemitism, only outsiders do.")

There’s growing anti-Israel sentiment in the United States which is true but to say that this has led to attacks on Jews I think is wrong. And a lot of the incidents, if you look at the ADL’s report on antisemitism, a lot of the antisemitic incidents being reported are just people speaking out in support of Palestine or wearing a keffiyeh or saying Free Palestine. That’s not antisemitism.

("Jews call everything antisemitism, and I don't understand micro-aggressions or hostile environments when they're targeting Jews."

They also put the ADL as being blindly Pro-Israel and with Trump government.)

Hen, what would you say to that, to the idea that tying antisemitism to an anti-Zionist movement is a false equivalency.

HM: Yeah. First I’ll quote the person that wanted to burn Josh Shapiro’s family alive. He said “I have said for years, years before October 7, that I favor a two-state solution, Israelis and Palestinians living peacefully side by side, being able to determine their own future and their own destiny,” that’s what he said to reporters just yesterday. To me it sounds like a legitimate call for peace and co-existence. But that made him go and try to burn down a Jewish family and Jewish governor. So there’s a lot of semantics here that are being thrown around. Since October 7 antisemitic incidents in America have reached an all-time high — yes, even statements about Palestine like the one I cited led this person to go and try to burn an entire Jewish family alive. I think there is a problem of antisemitism on both the left and the right and I think the fact that Kei didn’t even know that Macklemore has used Jewface — they would never touch someone who engaged in racism or homophobia but when it comes to antisemitism it’s such an afterthought that you didn’t even know about it, it wasn’t even an issue.

Maybe I’ll speak briefly about what I’m doing with And They’re Jewish. Because what’s striking to me is the contrast between The Encampments and my project, the whole notion that it’s something they’re not even related to — Kei said it doesn’t matter if you’re related to it — but I am related, I am a person invested in it, and the difference between his film and my series is that the film shows Jewish identity through the lens of political rage, through chants, through erasure, through deciding for Jews what is and isn’t antisemitism. It’s very political, and Jews are just a background noise at best or the villains at worst. But And They’re Jewish centers joy, creativity, diversity, humanity. And it reminds people that Jews are not just headlines or symbols in someone else’s protests; we’re real, complicated, vibrant people. And I think the world needs more of that right now. Because this sort of dehumanization that we’re seeing from the encampments and other causes is directly leading to violence against us, and there are reports after reports, study after study, that show how dehumanization of Jews is leading to violence against us, that led to the worst genocide in modern history of six million Jews.

And that’s our fear today — that this dehumanization, this afterthought about Jewish identity and the way we’re being portrayed by this [pro-Palestine] movement, even if it’s just in the guise of “we’re just speaking about Zionism; we’re just speaking about seven million Jews in Israel that we think should be killed, not all Jews,” it doesn’t matter, it harms real Jews, it’s how a 70-year-old Jewish guy was beaten to death in California at a protest, it’s how we ended up with Josh Shapiro’s house being burned, it’s how we end up with so much violence in this country against us, it’s how we end up being gaslighted about the horrific brutality of October 7.

Thanks Hen, I’m glad you talked about the show, and Kei, I’m glad we spoke about the movie. I hope you each continue to watch each other’s work and we all watch work even from people we don’t agree with. We have time for one last question, so I’ll ask each of you this: What’s something you would like to see change on your own side? Something thought about or done differently. Hen let’s start with you.

HM: I’d like to see more voices from the pro-Israel camp speaking up for Palestinian civilians. I think it’s important that we speak about suffering on both sides and that we humanize both Israelis and Palestinians and we make sure we’re focusing on people as human beings and not just as pawns in some dystopian story.

(Kei ignores this)

That we’re seeing real human beings. I hope Israelis and Palestinians will be seen on both sides.

Thank you for that Hen. Kei, same question. Anything you’d like to see done or handled differently on your end of things?

KP: Yeah, I think there are a lot of people in the U.S. that are being legitimately propagandized or lied to about who the Palestinians are and are being told the same narrative that they were told after 9/11, “a lot of Muslims are violent, that they’re hateful people and the Palestinians are our enemy that Lebanese people are our enemy.”

(American-centric glasses for the conflict, and not bothering to examine any deeper.)

But the reality is our enemy is the military industrial complex, it’s the generals, it’s these politicians who sell us on these wars. I would like the Palestine movement to really engage with more debate with these people who are coming forward and supporting Israel because I think a lot of them are being misled about who Arabs and Muslims and Palestinians are.

(Honestly, Kei, if you're an example of the level of good faith debate coming from your movement...)

Thank you for that Kei. A good note to end on from both of you. I think more understanding about who we all are is a good thing. Before we go I just want to give you guys credit. Usually with this conflict people are chanting behind barricades or talking to their followers and not engaging with another side. I know things got heated and there may be some raw feelings. That’s understandable. I hope everyone takes a minute to takes care of themselves. And then feels good about what they did. Not everyone is willing to sit here and have these conversations — hard as they are, important as they are. So thanks to both of you. I hope we can continue talking, and listening.

[shooting-love-arrows]

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎'𝐬! 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃 reacts to...cheater! reader

Request made by Anon:

Hi! I just read your post about yan 1950 house husband, it's amazing. Can you write his reaction if reader cheated on him? If you don't feel comfortable with this ask, feel free to ignore this.  Remember to take care of yourself and have a nice day.

Hello to you too, dear Anon,

First of all, I must apologize but your request suddenly disappeared from my inbox! Thankfully, I have the content of your request saved in my google docs so I pasted it above. 

Putting that aside, although this topic is sensitive to some, I am fine with writing about that. 

I appreciate your words. It's very nice of you to think about little ol' me. I wish you a nice day too (even if it's not a daytime)!

Thank you and I hope to hear from you soon!

PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 x [CHEATER!] reader (gender not specified/mentioned/implied), your lovers genger isn't specified/mentioned/implied either. Don't be swayed by the curses used to describe them; Tw. cheating/indifelity from the reader, cursing, description of a m*urder, delusion (delulu is the solulu), emotional manipulation, gaslightning; A/N: As a person, I do not support this kind of behavior. This is only a piece of fiction, serving for entertaining purposes only.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Denial. Denial. Denial. At first 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 doesn’t believe it. No, he refuses to do so. You’re the most faithful and perfect partner known to the human kind. Right then, he's desperately holding on to that image. But unfortunately, evidence says otherwise. A simple photo, sent to him by your lover, secretly taken by some photographer is clearly showing you and (that whore) your lover, in some hotel room, in an intimate position. It is clear that day that you have an affair. 

“But what if my darling was forced to do this?”

That question sends him into a spiral of delusion, rage and sorrow. As a defence mechanism, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 made up a story where suddenly you were a victim in this whole situation. It was definitely your lover who has forced themselves on you. Probably blackmailed or worse, drugged you to have a taste of sweet love and burning passion you share while making love with him. 

“My poor darling…” 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 wailed, clenching his chest like someone was physically ripping away his still beating heart from it. Fat tears ran down his rosy cheeks, smudging his mascara and turning him into a crying mess. “I’ll avenge you, my darling. I won’t forgive what was done to you!”

He doesn’t even blink when he sends your lover into the pits of hell. There’s no hesitation when 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 plans this hideous crime, making sure every detail is taken care of. And so, it begins small, like creating false and disgusting rumors about your lover. Day by day, he patiently destroys your lover's life. Until the day when 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 poisons them through his signature pie and then proceeds to repeatedly stab your lover until no one is able to recognize them in the first place. 

"YOU WENCH!" 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 roared at the person who happened to be your lover. "HOW FUCKING DARE YOU?!" With every word he dove the sharp, kitchen knife deeper and harder into his victim's chest. "DIE!!" 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 yelled for the final time and knife one last time, straight in this whore heart. He was left alone in the empty and messy kitchen, covered in blood, panting and trying to catch his breath. 

In the end, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 begins to gaslight you. Once again, with the patience of a saint, he began to manipulate you to believe that it was in fact your lover who was using you all this time. You were forced into this vile affair and you are a victim. 

“My innocent darling, you mustn't think about it (them) anymore. I will make everything perfect once again.”

But isn’t it weird how he started wearing clothes that are scarily similar to those worn by your lover? Sniff…sniff…and those perfumes…

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

[crowsofdarkness]

Mine: Ransom Drysdale[O.S]

-gif not mine. credit to owners-

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale x Female!Reader.

Content Warnings: language, slight violence, drinking, 18+ smut that includes p in v, oral with male and female receiving, spanking, and biting,

Summary: Ransom gets jealous when he sees you with someone else and needs to remind you who you belong to.

Authors Note: I wrote this years ago and originally posted it on my old blog. I apologize if some of the smut is kind of cringe lol like I said I wrote it years ago when I first started writing smut. I found it on my Google Docs and thought I would share it! Chris Evans needs more love on my blog.

The large house was filled with groups of bodies and I gave my best smile while I pushed past them, trying to get some air. The party had slowly become packed over time, Harlan continued to invite more people. It was his eightieth birthday party and he wanted to do just that. 

It had been my job to make sure every guest had enough food or drinks but Harlan made sure that I enjoyed myself as well. 

Just because you’re the housekeeper, doesn’t mean you can't enjoy yourself. 

His words brought a smile to my face. I had been his housekeeper for the last six months and from the first day, he had made me feel like family. He never looked down on me because I was raised with little to no money or that I might not have a successful career as the actual members of his family. 

Those family members also made me feel welcomed, to a certain degree. They made me feel comfortable when around them but their smiles faded the second I left the room. 

There was one member that refused to smile when I walked in. Well, when others were around. When it would be the two of us, he would give me every ounce of attention that would make my knees shake for hours after.  

In that exact moment, I walked past that man and felt his eyes burn deep into my back as he watched my every movement. 

“Need anything, Ransom?” I questioned over my shoulder. 

His blue eyes squinted. “I’m fine.” 

His words were curt and I tried my best not to let it bother me. There were too many eyes on us and he couldn’t afford to let anyone know about us; even if there wasn’t anything going on between us. 

Publicly that is. 

Privately we had hooked up a few times but as much as my heart wanted something more, Ransom did not. 

He was the town's playboy, he couldn’t ruin his image by being in a relationship. 

I put on a great face, letting him know that I was fine with these casual hookups but each time I would walk out of his house after one, my heart would chip away knowing that I wasn’t the only one on his list. 

Honestly, I could have ended it awhile ago but something about Ransom had me tangled in his web of attraction. So I decided that I would enjoy it while I could. There was a relationship out there for me and if it wasn’t with him, oh well. 

“Y/N!” 

Turning on my heels, I plastered on a fake smile as Ransom’s mother, Linda, came storming over towards me. The sour look on her face made me wonder what had gone wrong now. 

“Everything okay?” I asked. 

She furiously shook her head. “We’re running low on the shrimp. That’s dad’s favorite food and we’re running low.” 

“I have two more trays in the fridge downstairs. I’ll go grab it,” I reassured her with a smile. 

“Ransom, will you help Y/N? Those trays are quite heavy,” Linda snapped towards her son. 

Immediately I shook my head, mentioning that I could do it on my own. 

“Nonsense. He’s not doing anything besides brooding that Marta hasn’t said one word to him tonight so he can get off his ass and help.” 

Ransom grumbled a few choice words under his breath as we walked past me towards the basement and reluctantly, I followed behind. The old stairs creaked beneath our feet as we descended to the cold basement. There wasn’t anything special about it, mostly being used as storage for Harlan's old things. 

While Ransom rummaged through the fridge for the trays, I gnawed on my bottom lip as Linda’s words replayed through my head. 

Brooding because Marta hasn’t said one word to him. 

I usually wasn’t a jealous person but the thought of Ransom and Marta together made my stomach drop. I knew that he was seeing other women besides me and as much as that sucked, it didn’t hurt as much as the thought of him and Marta together. 

Marta was Harlan’s nurse and she was also breathtakingly beautiful so I knew that Ransom couldn’t stay away from her. 

“So you and Marta?” 

I mentally smacked myself for not even making it five minutes before asking Ransom about her. 

He turned on his heels after closing the fridge door with his foot and raised a smug brow towards me. 

“Jealous?” He questioned, adjusting the two trays in his hands. 

I shook my head, trying my best to brush it off. “No, I just didn’t think you two were together.” 

“We’re not,” Ransom scoffed. “I don’t do relationships.” 

“Yeah, I know,” I muttered. 

“You know,” he mused while leaning closer towards my lips. “I like the way your eyes darken when you get jealous.” 

“I’m not jealous.” 

Ransom’s eyes glazed over my lips while his tongue rolled over his bottom one and I squeezed my legs together, hoping to stop the itch I had felt below. 

“I guess I’ll have to fuck it out of you later,” Ransom groaned into my ear as he walked passed me, up the stairs.

I stood in a puddle of desire as I replayed the way his voice sounded when he uttered those words. 

The party had died down, family being the only ones left. They were staying at Harlan’s, opting not to drive home after having a few drinks, and while a few of them had retreated to bed, Harlan himself, I busied myself cleaning up the mess. 

Linda and Joni were having a heated discussion about something while Richard and Walt had their own in the corner of the room. 

But those two conversations weren’t important; the one that did peak my interest was the one happening between Marta and Ransom. 

As I collected plate after plate, I tossed my gaze in their direction and felt my stomach drop when I saw Marta place a hand on Ransom's arm, laughing at something he had said. I did notice, however, the way that he gently let her arm slip off of him. 

“Marta,” Linda spoke. “Did you give my father his medication yet?” 

Marta steadied herself, cheeks growing red with getting caught flirting instead of working. “I’m headed up there right now.” 

Not wanting to be caught slacking by Linda, I went to make my way towards the kitchen to start washing the endless stack of dishes but it was Joni’s voice that stopped me in my tracks. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” I questioned her. 

Joni gave me a warm smile. “I was saying that I’ve seen you work tirelessly to make sure things run smoothly around here for Harlan that it doesn’t seem like you take time for yourself.” 

“I do,” I nodded. 

She crossed her arms over her chest, a wicked idea flashing in her eyes. “Are you seeing anyone right now?” 

My eyes flashed towards Ransom, who’s attention was one hundred percent on me now.” 

I waited for him to give me a sign of what to say but when he didn’t, I shook my head towards Linda. 

“Nope. Single as can be.” 

“Wonderful!” She clapped her hands, the liquor she drank earlier in the night filling her veins, “I know this perfect guy for you. Can I set the two of you up? You look like you could use a night out and a good night in the sack.” 

“Joni!” Linda scolded. “You can’t say that to people.” 

Ransom’s shoulders tensed at Joni’s words and I stood there awkwardly, stack of plates in my hands, while Joni tried to explain her reasoning. 

“I’m trying to do a nice thing!” She defended. 

“I’m going to go wash these now,” I motioned towards the plates and tried to scurry away. 

I was stopped, however, at Joni’s voice once again. 

“I’ll set you two up for Friday. Does that work?” 

There was a gaze burning into the side of my head and I knew that Ransom was waiting patiently for my answer. I mulled it over for a few moments, knowing that as much as Ransom didn’t want to take our relationship to the next level, I couldn’t let that hinder me from trying to find that with someone else. 

Finally, I nodded. “Sure.” 

Not bothering to look at any of their gazes, I quickly made my way into the kitchen. 

Friday night had come and I sat at the bar of a local pub while my date chatted about something that I had lost interest in a long time ago. While he was cute, he was one of those guys that cared more about what he was doing in life rather than getting to know about his date. 

Bless Joni for trying to set me up with someone but this one was a complete dud. 

I tore at the paper on my beer bottle, giving my date a nod every now and then so it looked like I was interested in what he was saying. 

My attention had fallen onto the new man that walked into the pub. The white sweater clung to the broad muscles of his chest and I bit back a moan when he ran a hand through his hair, a loose strand falling back into his eyes. I loved when he would leave his hair messy, opting out of gelling it back. 

He must have known that because when our gazes locked, Ransom gave me a smug smile. He took large strides towards the other end of the bar and watched me intently as I reluctantly gave my date my attention when he uttered my name. 

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” 

He smiled. “I asked if you wanted another drink.” 

I looked at the empty bottle in my hand and without second guessing it, I nodded. As much as I would rather be with Ransom, I needed to give this guy a chance. 

When we continued to chat, I couldn’t stop myself from stealing glances at Ransom, who paid us absolutely no mind. He was busy chatting with a blonde that was almost sitting in his lap. It seemed like he was having the time of this life. 

“It might be all of the shots I took earlier but I was wondering if I could kiss you?” 

My eyes snapped back to my date at how loud he had asked that question. It’s like he knew that Ransom was listening and wanted to make him jealous. 

“Um, I guess.” 

The words were barely out of my mouth before my date was on top of me, lips grossly attaching to mine. It was like he had never kissed a woman before, his saliva painting the lines of my mouth. 

Internally I vomited at how wet my face had suddenly become.

With hands on his chest, I gently pushed him away, wiping away the saliva that glistened my face. 

“Wow,” he mused, clearly having different feelings than my own. 

“Yeah, I think I’m going to go,” I stood while gathering my things. 

He stood fast. “Let me walk you home.” 

Over his shoulder, I noticed that Ransom was shooting daggers into his back, ignoring his own blonde as she tried to make advances on him. His attention was fully on me and my date, wondering what my next words were going to be. His hand covered his mouth, biting nervously on his nails. 

It was a habit he did when he was nervous about something. 

“I can walk home by myself, thank you though,” I gave him my best smile. 

“Come on, we had a great date. Let me walk you home,” he persisted. 

I shook my head. “I’m fine.” 

He grabbed my hand as I walked away, pulling me back into him. “We had a great night, the least you can do is let me walk you home.” 

My gaze bounced between his hand on my wrist and his face. “I suggest you let me go.” 

He scoffed. “You don’t have to be a bitch!” 

He suddenly fell to the ground, groaning with pain as he held onto his privates, my knee slamming into them moments before. 

“The next time you want to take a girl home, maybe learn how to properly kiss,” I fumed down towards him. 

Not bothering to notice the proud smirk on Ransom’s face, I stormed out of the bar with deep regret for even agreeing to this date. 

My feets ascended my stairs, ready to forget this god awful night but halted with a loud knock to my front door. I raised a brow in confusion as to who was visiting my apartment this late. As my lips parted to ask who was there, my phone dinged with a new message. 

It’s me. Open up.

I rolled my eyes. “Go away, Ransom! I really don’t feel like having this terrible night rubbed in my face!” 

Another new message on my phone. 

Please. I promise I won’t talk about that douchebag. 

“I’m sure you have plans with that blonde from earlier so I won’t keep you. Goodnight!” I yelled back to the man on the other side of the door. 

I gasped in shock when the door clicked open, Ransom crossing over the threshold with my spare key twirling around his pointer finger. 

“Where did you get that?” I questioned. 

“You gave it to me before our last hookup, remember?” 

My mouth fell slightly when I did in fact remember that I had given him my spare key, realizing he spontaneously would show up sometimes for a hookup. 

“Well, I’m not in the mood for sex so you can show yourself out,” I motioned to the now closed door behind him. 

Ransom remained quiet, only jumping the stairs by two in order to catch up to me. He was now one step below me and I slightly towered over him. I raised a brow, wondering what he wanted. 

“Can I help you with something?” I asked. 

He shrugged, a light I had never seen before flash in his eyes. “I wanted to make sure you were alright.” 

I nodded while crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m actually tired so I was going to bed. Lock the door on your way out.” 

A loud gasp fell through my lips when I felt Ransom lift me over his shoulder and carry me to my bedroom. I struggled in his grasp, protesting that he put me down that instant. Those protests, however, were hushed with a firm smack to my ass. 

I bit back a moan. 

Once we were in my room, he tossed me onto the bed and before I could speak more protest, he was on top of me, his lips engulfing me with such desire it made me immediately soak my panties. 

I moaned into his mouth when his tongue forced its way onto mine and I relished in the familiar feeling. 

This was the type of kiss that made your knees weak and the kind that every single woman wanted. 

“Ransom,” I gently broke the heated exchange. “I’m really not in the mood for another booty call.” 

His hand cupped my cheek, forcing our eyes to lock. 

“I promise this isn’t a booty call.” 

“Then what is it?” I questioned. “Because if you plan on walking out that door the second we are done then spare me another heartbreak and do it now.” 

Not another word was spoken as he attacked my lips once more, biting and gnawing at my bottom one. I decided to let go of whatever problems I had at that moment, knowing that the next hour I spent with him, Ransom would ease them away. 

He started biting and nipping at the flesh of my neck and I moaned into it, my nails scratching at the wool on his back. He understood the silent message and soon shed off the sweater. I marveled at the way the muscles of his stomach glistened under the moonlight coming from my bedroom window. 

“Off,” he demanded while pointing to my oversized t-shirt. 

I obliged, knowing that Ransom loved being the dominant one in the bedroom, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t like it. 

I lay underneath him in only a pair of underwear that he wasted no time in sliding off of my legs, tossing to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Ransom motioned to his belt and without a second thought, I quickly made work of undoing it and his jeans, my hand quickly grabbing at this hard dick. 

He groaned with pleasure as I continued to palm him, knowing that he loved it when I would rub in circles. 

“Y/N,” Ransom moaned with a breath. 

My body tingled and I knew I needed to hear him say my name like that again. So I helped him out of his pants before rolling on top of him. While I straddled his hips, I almost didn’t notice the sly smirk pulling at his mouth. 

“What?” 

He shook his head. “I kind of like when you take control.” 

I leaned down towards his face and slowly dragged my thumb over his lip. “Is Ransom Drysdale admitting that he’s a sub in this relationship?” 

A scowl appeared on his face now. “Be a good girl and suck my cock.” 

I whimpered at his demand and not wanting to disappoint, I left pepper kisses down his chest and stomach, his happy trail tickling my lips, and when I reached the top of his briefs, I dared a glance up towards him. 

His pupils were dark and I felt his body writhe with anticipation under me. 

Not wanting to waste anymore time, I quickly shed him of the briefs and when his dick popped out and gently smacked his thigh, I licked my lips with hunger. 

The size at first always brought a shock to my system but as my tongue worked its way over the head and down the shaft, I knew with the way Ransom’s breath caught in his throat that I was doing exactly what he wanted. 

“Good girl, right there. Press your tongue harder,” He demanded in between moans.

I always did what I was told, Ransom having that effect on me. 

His fingers dug deep into my hair, pulling on the roots and I moaned a vibration on him, a loud guttural groan fell through Ransom’s lips. I was yanked off of him with a pop and felt my body being thrown onto the bed again, him on top of me once more. 

Before I could ask what he was doing, his mouth was in between my legs, tasting my most private folds. I let out a breathy moan while my fingers worked through his hair this time, bringing him closer to me. The tip of his tongue flicked over my mound in response and I melted into him. 

My orgasm was so close, on the very edge of explosion, and Ransom could always tell when it was coming. Sometimes he would let me grasp it, shaking my body to its core. But other times, he would make me chase it for a while. 

And tonight, it was going to be the latter. 

“Ransom,” I whined. “Please. I need this.” 

His teeth dug into the insides of my thighs and I hissed in pleasure. 

“What do you need, baby girl?” 

Words had become foreign so I simply lifted my hips, my heated pussy inches from his mouth. 

“I’m sure your date would have had trouble finding all your sweet spots,” Ransom noted, placing soft kisses along the fresh teeth marks on my skin. 

I remained quiet, unsure of what he wanted me to say. 

“Do you think he would know all the ways to make your body shake?” 

When I didn’t say anything, a hard bite was felt on the inside of my thigh and this time hissed in pain. 

“What the fuck, Ransom?” I cursed, looking at him with wide eyes. 

“Answer the question,” he demanded with dark hooded eyes. 

“No, he couldn’t.” 

“Atta girl,” Ransom mused. 

He repaid my correct answer with a long lick to the middle of my folds and I melted into the grooves of his tongue. A large finger slipped through and started pumping in and out which caused my head to fall onto the pillow, eyes rolling to the dark corners of head. 

“Fuck, Ransom.” 

Another finger entered and soon with the two and his tongue, I felt myself grasping at a release and my toes curled with anticipation of wondering if he would allow the release to wreak havoc over me. 

A squeal sounded off of the walls of my room when I was rolled onto my stomach and Ransom's warm chest pressed into my back as he leaned down towards my ear. His fingers found my insides again and my eyes fluttered closed at the new position, the feeling covered me in goosebumps. 

Ransom always knew what I needed before I did. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet baby girl. So filthy. All of this for me?” 

I nodded with vigor.

He repaid another correct answer with a soft nuzzle to the crook of my neck. I wanted to question this new soft action but the sounds of my wetness on his fingers brought my lips to a close. The squelching noises were ungodly as it echoed through the room. 

Ransom worked a mark on my skin. “Who’s the one that makes you this wet?” 

“You are,” I didn’t bother wasting time to answer. 

His hands spread my legs wide and when he leaned back to align himself with my opening. 

“Who do you belong to?” Ransom questioned with a deep tone. 

“Please, I can’t wait anymore,” I pushed my ass towards him. 

He smacked my ass, hard, clearly not happy with me avoiding the question. But honestly, I didn’t know how he wanted me to answer. This was new territory in this weird relationship. When we did have our random hook ups, it was the typical moans and fucks, but never once did he ask who I belonged too. 

“I’m going to ask again; who do you belong to?” Ransom demanded, the tip of his cock sliding along my wet folds. 

That sensation was enough. 

“You! I belong to you, Ransom,” I moaned. “Now can you please fuck me already?” 

With a quick snap of his hips, his cocked filled me to the brim and I clenched down around him. He gave me no mercy as he pounded into me from behind, my body falling and rising onto the bed. He reached around, the pad of his thumb pressed light circles on my sensitive clit.

“You’re mine and I’m yours, baby girl,” Ransom proclaimed in a mess of moans. 

My first orgasm of the night came quickly but Ransom didn’t give me a chance to enjoy it before he wrapped a hand around my throat to pull me up into his chest. We were now kneeling on the bed, his position still behind me. 

I tried to pat his hand, letting him know that I needed a second to let the feeling of my orgasm fill me but he bit down on the skin of my shoulder, a familiar hiss of pleasure falling from my lips. 

Ransom’s thrust was hard as he continued to pound into me, not bothering to give me a second to breathe. This was nothing different from our past times together but something about it tonight was different. It felt as if he was afraid to let me go. 

“Ransom,” I said with a broken tone. “I can’t.” 

“Yes, you can baby girl. I know you have another one for me,” Ransom urged me on towards another climax while leaving yet another mark on my neck.

His thumb found its previous spot once more. 

With each thrust, Ransom would only speak a few words. 

“You. Are. Mine.” 

His proclamation was what I needed to catch my second release, the orgasm completely destroying my body. I yelled out in pleasure, a bright light overtaking my vision, as I fell limp in Ransom’s grasp. 

“I hope you can go for a while because I’m going to take my time with you,” Ransom proclaimed after roughly turning me onto my back. 

I stared up at him with a post orgasmic gaze and licked my dry lips. “I can’t.” 

“We both know you can go all night, sweetheart,” Ransom reminded me. 

Before I could say another word, he slipped his cock into me once more and even if I was exhausted, I moaned his name. I scratched at the skin on his back, doing whatever I could to bring him closer. I needed to feel every inch of him. 

He hiked up my leg up over his shoulder, the new position making me see stars. This time his thrust was slow, almost antagonizing slow, but I didn’t complain. Whether it was fast or slow, it always brought me what I craved. 

“Look at me, sweetheart.” 

Our gazes locked and Ransom’s pupils were blown out with lust which caused me to twitch on him. 

“Fuck, you feel so good on my cock. Lift your hips a little,” he let out a groan. “Just like that, baby. I’m going to cum.” 

“Oh god,” my head fell back with a silent moan falling from my lips. 

His arms wrapped around me, bringing our sweaty bodies closer together, and within seconds we were overtaken with our own climaxes. 

Ransom collapsed his body onto me, his cheek pressing into my shoulder, while I wrapped my leg over his hip, still craving to feel the heat radiating off of him. We laid there for a few moments, trying to calm down from the high, and I turned to look at Ransom, who left pepper kisses on the skin of my shoulder. 

The slight action caused my cheeks to burn, the almost loving action had brought a small smile to my lips. 

Something about this hook up was different. Usually by now Ransom would be dressed and out the door. He did mention before that this wasn’t our usual hook up but I never expected to feel a new kind of emotion. 

I didn’t want to say prematurely what that emotion was, afraid that it would spook Ransom. 

His fingers traced random shapes over my lower back and I moved a small strand of hair from his face. 

“Can I ask you something?” I asked. 

When he nodded, I continued. “I know at the moment we say things that we don’t mean but did you mean it when you said that we belonged to each other?” 

Ransom’s face twitched and I prepared for him to push me off and walk away. But he didn’t. He simply nuzzled closer into my neck, breathing in my scent. 

“I don’t usually get all mushy with my feelings but I meant what I said.” 

I smiled while placing a kiss on top of his head. “What changed your mind?” 

With a quick switch of our bodies, I was now laying on his chest while he ran fingers through my knotted hair. 

“I’ve never felt this way before,” Ransom began. 

“Felt what?” I asked. 

With another sigh, lifted my chin so I could look up at him. “When I saw you with that jackass tonight, all I felt was rage. I wanted to punch him for the way he treated you tonight.” 

A small smile pulled at my lips. “I appreciate the thought but I can handle myself.” 

“I know you can,” he scoffed. “You’ve knocked me on my ass a few times but the point is that the second Joni mentioned setting you up with someone until moments before showing up here, all I felt was jealousy. I can’t imagine the thought of you lying in bed with someone else.” 

Jealous?

I was shocked. 

Ransom Drysdale, millionaire, playboy, was jealous?

“You’re the one that said you didn’t want a relationship,” I reminded him while grazing a finger over his cheek. 

The skin was soft, him shaving earlier in the day. He never sported any facial hair and I did admit, liked him better like this. 

Ransom nodded with my statement. “I don’t know what it is about you. This was only supposed to be a casual thing, fucking every once in a while, but the more I found myself away from you, the more I wanted to be with you.” 

“I would say I’m flattered but for all I know, you could have said this to the blonde earlier or even Marta.” 

I cringed at my words, realizing that my own jealousy could have ruined the moment. 

Ransom shook his head and as much as I wanted to fight against him, I knew with the way he had fucked me, that he was telling the truth. 

So to prove that he was telling the truth, he placed my hand on his chest, heart beating hard against it, and gently cupped my face and brought his lips onto mine in a slow, passionate kiss. 

There was something different in the way his lips moved against mine or the way his tongue slowly explored my mouth. 

This kiss had love behind it. 

I slowly pulled away, my head dizzy with anticipation and let out a low breath. 

“Wow, I don’t think you’ve ever kissed me like that before,” I noted. 

“I’ve never kissed anyone like that before,” he admitted. 

Another soft peck to his lips.  “Do you want to spend the night? Maybe tomorrow we could talk more about our relationship?” 

He nodded without hesitation. “As long as you promise not to hog all the blankets.” 

That night was the first time we had spent the night in each other's arms and also the last night either of us would spend alone. 

[ririright]

“Hayden vs. Technology: PeePaw Mode Activated”

Husband! Hayden x Wife Reader (Headcannons)

Part. 1 — Part. 2 — Part. 3

✦ He screen-records instead of saving.

When you send him a funny video, he’ll record it instead of downloading it.

“That way I know it’s saved.”

His phone gallery is full of shaky, cropped screen recordings.

✦ He refuses to use dark mode.

Even at night, his screen is a blazing white light.

“Dark mode looks so gloomy.”

He doesn’t care that it drains his battery faster.

✦ He’s obsessed with weather apps.

Has at least three and checks them all to see which one is “most accurate.”

“It says it’ll rain, but this one says it’ll be sunny. I don’t know who to trust.”

✦ He refuses to watch Reels with the sound off.

Even in public, he’ll turn the volume up.

“How can I understand the joke if I can’t hear it?”

You’ve started carrying earphones for him just in case.

✦ He loves the flashlight feature a little too much.

You ask him to look for something?

“Hold on.” Flashlight on.

Even if it’s broad daylight.

“Just making sure I don’t miss anything.”

✦ He texts with perfect punctuation, even for the simplest things.

“I’m on my way. Be there in 10 minutes.”

Even his jokes come with commas and proper grammar.

When he’s in a rush, his texts still look like they’ve been edited twice.

“Good morning! Did you sleep well?”

✦ He has a secret sock blog.

It’s called “Solely Socks.”

He reviews new socks, writes about his collection, and has a “Sock of the Month” post.

“Today’s feature is a merino wool blend with moisture-wicking technology. A solid 9/10.”

He’s got a small but loyal following of fellow sock enthusiasts who leave passionate comments.

Most of his followers are retired grandpas.

He refuses to tell his friends about it because “they wouldn’t understand.”

✦ He proudly uses Yahoo instead of Gmail.

“I’ve had this email forever. Why would I switch?”

When you try to send him a Google Doc, he’s confused. “Can’t you just email it to me?”

He doesn’t trust Gmail because “it’s too popular. Everyone’s on it.”

✦ His inbox is pristine.

He has folders for everything: “Family,” “Farm Stuff,” “Receipts,” and “Important Socks.”

If he gets spam, he manually moves it to a “Junk” folder—never just deletes.

His signature is always “Best regards, Hayden” even if it’s a quick reply.

✦ He texts like he’s writing a letter.

“Hello, how’s your day going? I hope everything is well.”

Full punctuation, proper capitalization, and never a single typo.

If he ever uses a smiley face, it’s always the classic: :) or :-) — never emojis.

✦ His phone is a game console.

He’s obsessed with Candy Crush, but only plays in moderation.

“I don’t want to burn through my lives too quickly.”

Solitaire is his go-to for “quiet thinking time.”

He loves Word Cross because he says it “keeps the mind sharp.”

Sudoku is his “serious game.” He won’t be interrupted if he’s on a difficult puzzle.

You once watched him play Sudoku in a waiting room, and he barely blinked.

✦ He’s a master at Candy Crush.

He knows all the best strategies, saves his power-ups for tough levels.

“The trick is to create as many striped candies as possible.”

He’s at a ridiculously high level, but you’ll never catch him bragging.

[physalian]

You don’t have to pay for that fancy worldbuilding program

As mentioned in this post about writing with executive dysfunction, if one of your reasons to keep procrastinating on starting your book is not being able to afford something like World Anvil or Campfire, I’m here to tell you those programs are a luxury, not a necessity: Enter Google Suite (not sponsored but gosh I wish).

MS Office offers more processing power and more fine-tuning, but Office is expensive and only autosaves to OneDrive, and I have a perfectly healthy grudge against OneDrive for failing to sync and losing 19k words of a WIP that I never got back.

Google’s sync has never failed me, and the Google apps (at least for iPhone) aren’t nearly as buggy and clunky as Microsoft’s. So today I’m outlining the system I used for my upcoming fantasy novel with all the helpful pictures and diagrams. Maybe this won’t work for you, maybe you have something else, and that’s okay! I refuse to pay for what I can get legally for free and sometimes Google’s simplicity is to its benefit.

The biggest downside is that you have to manually input and update your data, but as someone who loves organizing and made all these willingly and for fun, I don’t mind.

So. Let’s start with Google Sheets.

The Character Cheat Sheet:

I organized it this way for several reasons:

I can easily see which characters belong to which factions and how many I have named and have to keep up with for each faction

All names are in alphabetical order so when I have to come up with a new name, I can look at my list and pick a letter or a string of sounds I haven’t used as often (and then ignore it and start 8 names with A).

The strikethrough feature lets me keep track of which characters I kill off (yes, I changed it, so this remains spoiler-free)

It’s an easy place to go instead of scrolling up and down an entire manuscript for names I’ve forgotten, with every named character, however minor their role, all in one spot

Also on this page are spare names I’ll see randomly in other media (commercials, movie end credits, etc) and can add easily from my phone before I forget

Also on this page are my summary, my elevator pitch, and important character beats I could otherwise easily mess up, it helps stay consistent

*I also have on here not pictured an age timeline for all my vampires so I keep track of who’s older than who and how well I’ve staggered their ages relative to important events, but it’s made in Photoshop and too much of a pain to censor and add here

On other tabs, I keep track of location names, deities, made-up vocabulary and definitions, and my chapter word count.

The Word Count Guide:

*3/30 Edit to update this chart to its full glory. Column 3 is a cumulative count. Most of what I write breaks 100k and it's fun watching the word count rise until it boils over.

This is the most frustrating to update manually, especially if you don’t have separate docs for each chapter, but it really helps me stay consistent with chapter lengths and the formula for calculating the average and rising totals is super basic.

Not that all your chapters have to be uniform, but if you care about that, this little chart is a fantastic visualizer.

If you have multiple narrators, and this book does, you can also keep track of how many POVs each narrator has, and how spread out they are. I didn’t do that for this book since it’s not an ensemble team and matters less, but I did for my sci-fi WIP, pictured below.

As I was writing that one, I had “scripted” the chapters before going back and writing out all the glorious narrative, and updated the symbols from “scripted” to “finished” accordingly.

I also have a pie chart that I had to make manually on a convoluted iPhone app to color coordinate specifically the way I wanted to easily tell who narrates the most out of the cast, and who needs more representation.

—

Google Docs

Can’t show you much here unfortunately but I’d like to take an aside to talk about my “scene bits” docs.

It’s what it says on the tin, an entire doc all labeled with different heading styles with blurbs for each scene I want to include at some point in the book so I can hop around easily. Whether they make it into the manuscript or not, all practice is good practice and I like to keep old ideas because they might be useful in unsuspecting ways later.

Separate from that, I keep most of my deleted scenes and scene chunks for, again, possible use later in a “deleted scenes” doc, all labeled accordingly.

When I designed my alien language for the sci-fi series, I created a Word doc dictionary and my own "translation" matrix, for easy look-up or word generation whenever I needed it (do y'all want a breakdown for creating foreign languages? It's so fun).

Normally, as with my sci-fi series, I have an entire doc filled with character sheets and important details, I just… didn’t do that for this book. But the point is—you can still make those for free on any word processing software, you don’t need fancy gadgets.

—

I hope this helps anyone struggling! It doesn’t have to be fancy. It doesn’t have to be expensive. Everything I made here, minus the aforementioned timeline and pie chart, was done with basic excel skills and the paint bucket tool. I imagine this can be applicable to games, comics, what have you, it knows no bounds!

Now you have one less excuse to sit down and start writing.