#i'm still attempting to exist in a space i never adapted to. i'm just not struggling with mental illness this time

[definitelyjunehomestuck]

yknow it's great being substantially more prepared to operate in an academic space than the first time around, but college still makes me want to walk slowly into the ocean and never turn back

[thoseyoulove]

Just finished Part I of The Vampire Lestat and here are my first impressions (I skipped IWTV *for now* since the show has already covered it... I'll read it eventually):

I can't tell yet if I like it or not.

So far, I enjoy the concept and the characters seem to be compelling. In terms of eventfulness, there hasn't been much, but I do have some interest in these people. They all appear to be complicated and have a lot of baggage, which I guess makes them appealing and gives the story potential. Let's see where this goes.

I don't hate, but I also don't love Anne's writing style. I don't think she narrates and describes things very well, she lingers on stuff I don't care that much for and doesn't provide details on things I'm actually curious about? There are some abrupt changes that annoy me sometimes as well.

I do believe this might be an attempt to get ourselves in the mind of Lestat and how he process to the world around him, though? It would make sense considering how chaotic he is.

Another thing I like is how he got so obsessed with the 20th Century, music and theater. The descriptions really give me the idea of someone experiencing the world for the first time (in a while) and considering how isolated he was growing up or after everything that happened with Louis/Claudia, it makes sense that he is so fascinated by all these discoveries. And it's really immersive and sweet to see how he in awe he is with all of it.

He also speaks like he is somebody born in the 1700s. So I give her credits for that as well.

Pretty sure Lestat is neurodivergent at this point (ADHD is basically a yes from me, maybe he has dyslexia and/or autism too).

And his memory is trash. So often he doesn't know if he actually did something, or if it were someone else, or if it was just a thought... I'm like, ARE YOU OKAY (he isn't)? By the way, this is painfully relatable because I also have poor short (and long-term) memory. Heaven help him (and moi).

That boy is a water sign if I've ever seen one.

He cries A LOT. I don't remember ever seeing any (book/show/movie) character cry that much, specially in such a short time lol. And the fact this is coming from a man and not a woman... There you go with defying gender norms, king!

Lestat having Borderline Personality Disorder isn't even a headcanon at this point, but a FACT.

He probably hasn't been hugged enough times in his life and it SHOWS.

Even with the abuse in his family, his frustration with his mother and the "malady of mortality", he manages to stay optimistic in a way that feels so childlike and naive that makes my heart warm and ache for him. I'm like, you deserve better.

Again, I don't know if I'm enjoying or not, but I do like the fact I can imagine Sam's Lestat doing all of this on season 3. Picturing Sam bringing these moments to life is the BEST PART of the reading.

Would I still read these books if the show never existed? That's what I need to find out.

I can see why some people got so invested in this character, though. At least for now. Some stuff hit close to home and I find myself rooting for him. I imagine that for the ones who read it at as a teenager, it must've made them feel less alone and seen to some extent.

At this moment, it's Lestat > Gabrielle > Nicholas for me.

Lestat's father isn't a person I care about, but depending on how the show adapts him, I guess it could be a good opportunity for a blind actor. It would be killing two birds with one stone, because it would develop Lestat's backstory, but also give space for a category that barely gets any job in the industry. I would love to see a powerful guest star that is a an actual disabled person playing a disabled character. Sure, we would hate him, but if someone manages to show their potential, book more roles and maybe even earn an award or nomination, why not?

Whenever Lestat talks about kissing his mother I get confused if the incest is already happening or not lol. Because I normally would just imagine a platonic kiss on the cheek or forehead and I haven't seen anything explicitly inappropriate. I don't know if it's because I'm reading the Brazilian Portuguese version, or if Anne wasn't that clear, or maybe I'm slow and naive, but nothing big seems to have happened? But I'm familiar with those spoilers, so... Anyway, whatever. It's not like I was counting the days to read about incest, so I don't really care about it being evident or not. I just mean that for now they seem to be more of a "parent that didn't want kids, but cares for him in a distant, but still real way and child that seeks for any crumbs of love and affection" kind of relationship.

Speaking of that, Lestat is SO DESPERATE for love, omg. Nicki was basically the first person besides his mother that was nice to him and he told the guy ALL OF HIS LIFE STORY AND FELL IN LOVE almost immediately? Get up!

Peak BPD/ADHD/maybe autistic/water sign/Scorpio behavior. MY GOD.

Still don't know how to picture Gabrielle and who I fancast playing her. I do think I have some sense of who she is now, which is nice. I also have some actors that could pass for Sam's parent and have the appropriate age to play her in my mental library, but I can't form a face yet. Not the face of a real actress or even an imaginary face, it's just a blur so far. Which sucks because I loooooooooove imagining fancasts, specially for a show as great as this one, but I'm just waiting for the revelation to come to me lmao.

[fragileizywriting]

watched a recap of a romance erotica book called twisted love and i'd never heard of it up until like yesterday when i watched the video bc i have no idea what's going on in the tik tok world as well as the book world because i'm very bad at doing my hobbies. anyway, jesus christ what a wreck of a book. i can fix this. i can make a better adaption. i can write this story but better.

HERES HOW WE CAN STILL WIN, (felinette version woohoo o/ !!)

marinette, our main character, is a college student going for fashion design in paris at the age of 25. she's bright and bubbly and cheery, who works very hard at school and part-times at her parents bakery. she has a boyfriend— well, had a boyfriend— adrien agreste, known socialite, who had spoken wax of poetry over and over and over about how much he loved her, telling her that as a graduation present he'd buy her a boutique, an apartment, a car...... he decides to ghost everyone in his life after a breakdown, seemingly moving out of the city, for reasons that i haven't figured out just yet. i just need him to kick himself out of this city.

marinette, of course, is heartbroken. this sucks. she's grieving so hard.

enter felix, adrien's identical twin brother who has nothing to do with this, barely existed in her life up until now, but is attempting to snatch his brother right back from whatever dumb, impulsive ridiculous thing he did— adrien had a girlfriend, a solid apartment, a solid life, adrien had mentioned that he was so close to asking marinette to marry him...— finally knocks on marinette's door one afternoon. identical twin yet marinette has barely talked to him; the man's busier than anyone should be reasonably allowed to be, and isn't much of a sunshine as adrien is. i will routinely mention in this book that the light in marinette's livingroom/dining room makes felix's hair look whispy and nearly white against adrien's sure-fire sun-like flare of hair. even though felix's eyes are green just like adrien's, they're somber, and almost bluish at times.

marinette, obviously, wants nothing to do with felix.

"please leave," she tells him, because she's tired and lonely and is craving yet another box of icecream she keeps in the freezer for— well, moments like these, really. apparently. she's going to cry herself asleep for the fourth week in a row. girlboss behavior. "i kind of don't want to deal with your entire family right now."

"i understand," felix says, and he doesn't look all that convincing, because the man is standing there, awkwardly, hands fisted at his sides trying to figure out how to speak to her in a way that implies more than 'i've only ever seen you for a few hours every christmas when adrien invites family over and i'm the only family he has because our parents are all levels of fucked up and we don't really need to talk about this in depth right now'. and then, as a garnish, 'i've always been really thankful that adrien miraculously turned out fine from the whole ordeal considering that i had to go to therapy for multiple years, decades, in fact, to deal with our family, and i always thought he was fine everytime i'd see him probably four times a year, but apparently not, at all, and now i'm stuck dealing with his grieving... ex? girlfriend? ex??? and i don't know how to deal with women at all because i am an introvert the size of the moon but i'm really trying, here'. "i just don't think it's best to leave you alone."

"i'm fine," she replies, completely ignorant to his inner monologue. "i can handle myself. i'm an adult, felix."

and yet felix has the audacity to look— kicked, really. "i'm aware."

"could you give me some space?"

"of course." and then, because felix just apparently is all sorts of weird tricks up his business sleeves, blurts out: "not as much as i've always given you, though. right?"

"what do you mean?"

"i don't feel comfortable just leaving you completely on your own." there is an attempt for marinette to refute, to open her mouth and mention that she's still twenty-five, she's an adult, she's not a baby, and felix refutes it with a hand up in the air. "you're grieving because of my brother and i don't like the idea of not doing something about it."

and so, through reasons that i cannot at all comprehend how i will get here but i have to if i want to match (somewhat) the plot ("plot") points of the original book i'm rewriting, felix ends up (temporarily) moving into an apartment next door, for no other reason other than to make marinette feel safer and comfortable. just stick with me. ideally, there would be a plan of some kind here. for now, since this is only a tumblr post, i can just handwave that away. that's not my problem just now.

some of the main fixes i would make sure to change immediately is to change felix from a "ruthless alpha-lone-wolf dog behavior" to "i'm adrien's older brother (they are still twins but felix will routinely mention he's still the oldest born) and i feel a psychological, traumatic need to take care of him because i can't let my younger brother have any trauma from our parents, i refuse, i refuse, and if that means keeping his life together for him while he's gone, i'll do my best" and that means making sure that marinette is, at the very least, fine and not dead. that's a good plan. but as he spends more and more time with marinette, the more he realizes his mistake; he likes her as a friend, likes her a lot more, is impressed at her skills and slowly starts falling in love with her which is honestly very useful.

at some point, i'd have to have them have a solid "i'm not using you to replace him," she cries. "i just— love you." conversation. it's an important one. and a segue to the back half of the book that is just sex.

another thing that i would change from the original story is the ridiculous b plot of dark secrets and betrayal and incidents, because that's not necessary. i could carry this book entirely on sex alone as well as mutual pining. and felix's sad, kittenlike eyes whenever he's upset.

okay i'm done for now i gotta go clean the kitchen. please enjoy this

[marshmallowprotection]

I sometimes wonder about what would happen in Saeyoung's route with me when we are at the apartment, honestly.

I'm not sure I would be able to talk back and that, especially if he starts yelling brooo- 😭✋✋

I'm pretty sure I'll flinch and might even start crying on the spot cuz if something gets me upset, I miiiight start crying on the spot and I would probably avoid him but still glance at him sometimes since I have to be in the same room istg

Like?? I'm not sure I would have the courage to express my feelings for him later on or even say other stuff that the MC says in the game.

A lot of people have left me in my life so just thinking that he is gonna leave as well would probably make me hide under blankets and sob as quietly as I could AMSNQHDHAH

It's really something-

See, nobody is the same person so your actions are going to differ greatly from the options MC is given in the game. Your time with him won't look like anyone else's. Is that scary? You know how the story goes with someone who can handle the storm, but you don't know if you'd be able to do the same thing as MC. But, that's just the thing, it is you. You are the one defining the factors ahead of you when you're going in not knowing what comes next.

You never know what you'll do at the moment. You can't assume you will respond one way or the other unless you went into that moment as you are. You might just surprise yourself. Sure, you might not be able to respond like a bold, brazen, or confident MC. But, does that mean you should count yourself out immediately? No, it doesn't. It doesn't mean that at all.

The MC in Mystic Messenger adapts and changes depending on the love interest, so even MC won't respond the same each time, and in a Route, depending on the end goal you're targeting, good, bad, or the normal, those reactions aren't the same, either. So, why beat yourself up over being different when MC is never the same way twice? That's a helpful thought for me since while I share traits with Ray's MC, I've got a lot of differences, too.

You have to take a breath and remember one thing. Saeyoung is in love with you from the second he hears your laughter during the first phone call when you listen to his attempt to prank you. That's when it's over for him and he feels a flutter in his chest that only becomes more dangerous the more that he speaks to you with a smile on his face that makes him have loose lips that go against what strength he thought he had.

He does need space in the apartment. If he makes you cry, he'll feel bad about it. He knows that he can't stay away from you no matter how hard he tries, and even if you aren't nudging him over and over again, he'll still see your pain and want to comfort you. He won't be able to stop himself from offering you comfort... it'll just be a sort of conflicting debate for him as he brings you a blanket or food so you don't "forget" to take care of yourself.

The thing with Saeyoung isn't a matter of pushing him... if you push too hard, you get his Bad Ending, but if you don't push at all, you will not be able to reach him fully. You have to exist in the middle area. It's a grey area, really. You don't have to pressure him, but you do have to remind him that you care about his well-being.

Listen to him, talk to his concerns, and back him up in the chatroom.

He doesn't even specifically confess his feelings for you until later, only saying that he can't leave you behind and he wants you to come with him to save his brother. So, it's okay if you've got fears or even insecurities. All you need to ask yourself is if you believe in Saeyoung as a person. Do you? Do you know that he's strong and can let go of control long to let you hold him when he's ready? Give him space and empathy.

You cannot love Saeyoung Choi wrong.

If you struggle to voice your feelings out loud... text him. Admit your heart and be bold that way. You cannot handle this wrong. You love him and that's what will bring him back to you.

[sunset-synthetica]

Soo what stuff are ya gonna change plotwise in tf apotheosis aka the tfp s2-3 re-write. like whats elita gonna be like for this au alongside jazz n kup?

I'm not sure if I'm ever gonna actually publish a full rewrite as I'm busy as fuck and my past attempts at multi chapter fics have NOT gone well, but tldr I wanna go with the space pirates concept the writers had originally planned out. The overarching themes would be a focus on how team Prime has gotten used to humans and adapted some cultural norms that Cybertronians view as unusual, and how the death of Cybertron impacted everyone (not just the Autobots). They've lost their home, and everyone would adapt differently to that, from trying to replicate it, to adapting a different cultural identity to cope with the loss.

I'd also wanna explore some of the characters more in-depth and either expand on or change their arcs a bit, particularly making Optimus' stance on Megatron and the war change more drastically, expand on Ratchet's feelings towards his position as a medic and his relationship with Raf, and of course give Arcee the revenge she should have gotten.

As for the new characters I'd introduce: Elita-1 is the captain of the pirate ship, the Azimuth. Her and Optimus disagreed about the fate of Cybertron. She left with some other Autobots to try and set up a base on another planet, but overtime converted their ship into a sort of traveling haven, welcoming anyone who found themself in their situation- lost and with nowhere to go. She's effectively removed herself from the conflict, and does her best to welcome anyone, former fried or foe, on the ship. Although there had been some security issues at first, her and her chain of command didn't give up.

She does her best to rid herself of the hardened shell the war had forced her into, but still struggles with it. She may come off as a bit too radical or easy to anger to some, but both stem from a genuine fear for her people and a deep passion for what they've all managed to build.

Azimuth itself has the particular quirk of always being changed. Occasionally, someone comes up with the idea of creating a map, but it never gets anywhere, as the layout never stays the same. Whether repairing existing structures or adding new walls, modules or even external parts of the ship, making an accurate map is impossible.

Jazz is the ship's chief communications officer, always by the radio. When she's not talking to pilots of the ships they occasionally encounter, or trying to catch a broadcast from a nearby planet, she likes to station herself by a common area and play or sing music. Although she's very liberal with the tools at her disposal, often blocking one of the side channels so she can play music or act as a self-appointed DJ (not that people don't feed into it) she is incredibly aware of her responsibilities, and knows when to sober up.

Kup doesn't really have a specific role on the ship. He occasionally helps maintain the weapons on-board, but spends most od his time relaxing or talking to others about his life in both wars (the civil, most recent and the war with Quintessons). He tends to get more than a bit heated at times, but is generally regarded as an expert on the topic, and a kind soul under a rough exterior.

[b1uedcollar]

＃     𝙱𝟷𝚄𝙴𝙳𝙲𝙾𝙻𝙻𝙰𝚁     💈     an   independent   multi - concept．

𝙰𝚃𝙾𝙼   𝙶𝙰𝚁𝚉𝙰，  SMOKE  EATER．   〈   🍓   〉    firefighter  and  single  father.  can  never  sit  still.  immerses  himself  in  different  cultures  thru  food.  adventurous.  brave.  risk-taker. 𝙲𝙾𝙳𝚈   𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙿𝙴𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙴𝚁，  SCREWBALL．   〈   🔩   〉    cop  &  carpenter.  foul  mouth  who  loves  to  stir  the  pot.  usually  runs  from  the  fight.  reckless  hot  head  with  a  drankin’  problem. 𝙶𝚄𝚂   𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙶𝙴𝚁，  NOSTALGIA．   〈   🏀   〉    indie  filmmaker.  born  and  raised  on  a  peach  farm.  college  basketball  player.  drive-in  movies.  ice  cream.  mugs  of  cereal.  80s  nostalgia. 𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙻𝙰𝙽   𝚉𝙰𝙺，  HOMEGROWN．   〈   🤠   〉    farmer  and  agricultural  science  teacher  {  ffa  sponsor  }.  viral  tractor  safety  videos.  white  hair,  rodeo  buckles,  and  guitars.

..     general expectations apply and are highlighted through PSAs.     —     communicate if a line is crossed,   or just    hard block     me.

..     THE CORE FOUR    remain my primary focus.   any old concepts   /   side characters i might wanna dust off or potential canons i attempt to steal will be considered   lagniappe (secondary)   and experimental. you can keep track of updates through the   #MUSE ROOSTER   tag!

..     my guys are built from multiple faces, various aesthetics   /   inspirations, and chaotic vibes. with adaptable stories to make throwing them into whatever verse possible   ( barebone information is purposeful. more insight is offered in their individual tags and through plotting   /   interactions ).    unless otherwise plotted, their default faceclaim should match the age range of the opposite.

..     i use this as an archive for me, first and foremost, and will share how and when the muse strikes. i'm fighting hard against my own anxieties to interact more, so   #MEMES NEVER EXPIRE.   and are generally answered through asks as i don't trust the wonky notification   /   tagging system. feel free to expand into a thread or discussion.

..     in-depth collaborative creation requires some form of out of character interaction.   not all development gotta be written out. i enjoy learning about characters through headcanon exchanges that can build into a plot. some direction is appreciated. time under the hood to stay invested.    and, yeah, i am here for ships.    we can dive into many different kinds of dynamics. with the understanding that each collaboration exists in its own verse. which can be built to our desire, including various aus and multiple concurring plots.   though i am trying to collaborate more, i cannot guarantee extensive partnerships.    we can still find ways of mutual support!

..     21+ muns   /   muses are preferable.   i'm a fade-to-black fella but will engage in nsfw headcanons, musings, and analysis.   i'm still learning to be mindful of trigger warnings.   but, at the end of the day, please curate your space. communication is key. or go in peace.   👍

aes.    @840a04   @0c0908   @353f3e   @e5af2f   @oshac0re

[howtofightwrite]

I've seen your posts about size not being significant in fights and an under 5 foot tall person can reasonably fight someone over 6 feet in melee. But I'm writing sci fi and I have alien races where some adults are 3 feet tall and others are 8 feet tall? Is size now important? It's realistic sci-fi. What I mean is, like I've never questioned Yoda fighting humans but because of the non realistic Force so I bought it. But I do kinda question pure martial arts.

So, when you're comparing two humans, a foot of height difference doesn't significantly affect their reach. Humans are all equivalently unstable (roughly speaking) (we're all bipeds), so the difference of a few inches of limb length. Outside of very specific edge cases, this doesn't have a lot of combat implications. Basically, anything you do with your hands will bring you inside your opponent's strike range.

However, we're not talking about two humans, which means a lot of the assumptions, based on the fighters having similar physiology, are no longer relevant. Limb length can't be reliably tied to height (overall), nor can the characteristics of those limbs. A fight between an octopus and horse is going to look very different from a fight between a Wookie and an Ewok.

There's a serious problem in popular science fiction, with the appearance of alien life. Because (most) science fiction series and films relies on actors wearing prosthetics to represent the aliens, we get a lot of scifi where the vast majority of aliens are just humans but with funny rubber foreheads. This isn't as pronounced in literary science fiction, but the trend is still there.

There's an understandable kind of narcissism in looking at yourself and saying, “well, I look normal,” but, to put it very bluntly, humans are goddamn weird as a species on a number of fronts. Including our physiology. If you're looking at, “realistic sci-fi,” the odds of encountering another bipedal, roughly human looking, race are almost non-existent.

Star Trek explicitly responded to this idea, though it took them over 25 years to address, with an advanced alien race that seeded genetic data across the galaxy millions of years ago, resulting in manyraces that looked suspiciously like humans in makeup. This entire justification doesn't stand up well to scrutiny, but at least an attempt was made.

The standardized bipedal template isn't inherently a problem from the perspective of presenting aliens as other people. However, actually encountering a species in outer space with two two arms, two legs, a head with eyes, ears, a nose, and a mouth in a familiar configuration, is a genere convention, and makes no sense from an exobiology (or xenobiology) perspective.

It's worth remembering that humans are genetically coded to be xenophobic to near humans. Specifically, I'm talking about the, “uncanny valley,” and it usually comes up in relation to attempts to create human simulacra, particularly with humanoid animatronics. It is very likely this instinct would kick in hard with near human aliens, and may kick in with divergent human species. (Which is to say, humans who have spent enough generations on other worlds to result in physiological adaptations. It's also quite possible that the uncanny valley is, in fact, the result of now extinct near human divergent species, such as Neanderthal.) Or, put another way, being in the same room as a Vulcan would be absolutely terrifying on a genetic level.

So, do the height differences matter in this situation? I'm not sure they do. If the example is two, roughly similar bi-pedal fighters, then yes, if only because of reach. However, when we're talking about two alien races, we really don't have a baseline, and that throws off all our assumptions.

-Starke

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[cherry-lipbalm]

survival of the fittest. spencer reid.

5.3k words.

masterlist

“ If they were to somehow get out of here alive, she was certain it would only be one of them. ”

three hours earlier

Y/N was ready to go home - more than ready. They'd gotten back from a hard hitting case in Boston, touching down by early afternoon meant they were expected back at the HQ, which henceforth meant piles of paperwork were in their future. Y/N knew her complaining would only go reprimanded by Hotch, so she kept to herself in her cubicle, shoved into the corner of the bullpen, and desperate to get the documents out of the way.

Over the scribbling of her pen, she heard the mutterings of Morgan and Reid's conversation beside the latter's desk not too far away from her own. She sighed in defeat, because she knew she wouldn't be able to resist joining them, especially when the opportunity arose to take the mickey at Spencer.

When it did inevitably arise, she pushed herself away from her desk and allowed the wheels on her chair to escort her over to the men. At the sound of jagged rolling, Morgan stepped aside to make space for her to insert herself, a snide smug painted on his face.

"Did I just hear the word 'Spencer' and 'girl' in the same sentence?" She asked, leaning on the armrest to shove her shit-eating grin into Spencer's face; he only rolled his eyes and gave an insincere 'ha ha'.

"Your ears did not deceive you, baby girl," Morgan said, receiving a smack on the arm from Spencer. The warning stare he gave him almost made Y/N stop pestering him. Only almost.

"Oh my! Spill the beans, who is she?" Y/N gushed, steering her chair even closer to the Doctor while Morgan watched on amusedly.

"There isn't a she," he grumbled, head bowed to his paperwork in the hopes that if he ignored the Agents they'd just go away.

"...a he?"

"No!" Spencer exclaimed, snapping his head upwards.

"Hey! It's no skin off my nose, Spence."

He groaned, then turned back to his work and allowed for Morgan and Y/N to exchange a glance as they both tried to hold back snickers at their friend's flustered existence.

She stayed huddled around with them for a few more minutes, but as soon as she saw the clock hit 5, she jumped from her chair and kicked it back to her desk. Announcing that she was off, she began to gather and pack her things. While she did so, she heard Spencer make the same announcement.

"You're off earlier than usual," she called back, "let me guess... Doctor Who marathon?"

Spencer's smile gave him away; Y/N chuckled and draped her coat over her shoulders, standing by his desk while he adjusted his satchel.

"Busy man," she commented, then proceeded to listen to whatever sci-fi related ramble Spencer was emitting, interjecting with exclamations of intrigue or surprise whenever she deemed suitable (they were all timed guesses, but she didn't waver once).

"...Christopher Eccleston is actually the second favourite, despite the fact that a lot of people skip his season, but he has a 52% popularity–"

"Wait, why do people skip his season?"

"Oh, because he preceded David Tennant. He's the favourite, with a 69% popularity."

"Ha, 69," Y/N muttered under her breath with a crude smirk. Spencer only gave a restrained smile and raised his eyebrows. The two fell into a silence, except from a 'thank you' Y/N said softly when Spencer opened the door for her.

The elevator button illuminated under her touch, and they stood in front of the steel doors, awaiting their opening. Y/N tapped her foot senselessly, and Spencer rolled on the balls of his heels.

In amidst the silence, Y/N looked up to Spencer and they exchanged a warm smile. The beep of the elevator distracted them, and after stepping aside to let people out, they ambled in and finally relaxed when the doors closed on them again.

"Today was relentless," Y/N sighed, checking her watch.

"Have any plans?" Spencer asked, out of courtesy.

"Well, I have to head to the repair store to pick up my phone, but after that there's leftover Chinese food in the fridge with my name written all over it," she chuckled.

"What happened? To your phone?"

"Morgan happened," was all she said. Spencer joined in on her judgement even though he didn't know the story, he did know that 'Derek Morgan' was simply a reason in itself that didn't warrant an explanation. Then, they lulled in the return of silence.

It wasn't until the elevator jerked and came to a sudden stop that the two spoke again.

"That's not right," Spencer muttered, and he immediately began to jab at the ground floor button before Y/N smacked his hands away, because she was already deep in a panic, so it was even worse when the next astounding jerk hit. She screamed when they were thrown off balance, and hoped she hadn't got a concussion from where she collided with the back wall upon the motion.

"What the hell?" She panted. They came to a still, but it made her even more nervous because she knew they hadn't been in there long enough to reach their floor. That, and the fact that they had just ripped through the air at about a hundred miles per hour.

Spencer's eyes furrowed, and he licked his lips in the way he did when he was focused on something. Judging by the way he assessed the doors, Y/N thought he was about to pull some thwarted stunt, or more likely reel off some facts about steel.

"I think something's wrong," he mumbled.

"No shit, Sherlock,"

"Ah, elementary my dear Watson," Spencer replied so quickly that Y/N was almost inclined to believe it made any sense.

"Did you know that Sherlock Holmes never actually said that? Sir Arthur Conan Doyle never wrote those words, they were only adapted into the movies years later-"

"Oh my god, Spencer, are we stuck in this elevator?" Y/N shrieked, her knuckles whitening under her tight clutch of the hand rails on the wall: half from fear and the other from frustration.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I think so."

Upon Spencer's bluntness, she stepped forward, desperate for any attempt of an escape plan, she began pressing the ground floor button repeatedly; when that didn't work, she resorted to aimlessly smashing all the buttons on offer. 

"That's– that's really not gonna do anything," Spencer said in the background.

"Do you have a better idea?" She snapped, turning to him with a glare before resuming her actions.

"Try the - try that one!" He pointed to the red button with an alarm bell engraved on it, and Y/N felt stupid under his stare for not noticing it before. She pressed it, and the ringing noise that emitted from it seemed to do nothing but that: ring. She was certain someone was supposed to come to their aid through a speaker, so she pushed it continuously, but derived nothing further. At least she gained some comfort in the panic of Spencer's voice that told her he was shitting himself as much as she was.

"It's not doing anything!" She cried, and when he leaned over her and pressed it too, she bit her tongue and raised her eyebrows to tell him 'see?', infuriated at the fact that he thought she could be somehow pushing a button wrong. But, then again, she'd have been even more angry if he'd done it and it had worked.

When it didn't, she alternated to the next best thing.

"Help!" She yelled, slamming her palms against the doors. She didn't know what floor they'd been wedged at (or even if they were just floating in some space between levels), but someone had to hear them; they were bound to...right?

Spencer seemed to think so at least, because he was joining her in pounding his fists on the steel. Sooner rather than later, the harsh echo made Y/N's ears ring, so she stopped and took a step back.

"Well, this is great," she sighed, slumping in a lean on the wall as she rubbed her temples.

"I'm gonna miss Doctor Who," Spencer whined, pouting.

Y/N just rolled her eyes at him and told him to call somebody. She was sure she'd seen JJ just before they left, still huddled in her office; hopefully she'd be able to call maintenance and they could be released from this death trap of a machine.

"I can't, my phone died. Use yours."

"What?"

"My phone's flat, can you use yours?"

Y/N just stared at him. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt because the adrenaline rush of panic can make memories a bit hazy, but her skin was flustering under the rage she was feeling, her forehead was already beginning to perspire and the walls were so small and entrapping and - is it hot in here or just her?

"My phones at the store," she reminded him through gritted teeth, and watched his composure fall in both comprehension and defeat.

"Great," he remarked.

"Oh, like it's my fault?"

"Well, it's not mine."

"And it's not mine either so don't talk to me like that!"

It was only a short exchange, but it made Y/N's blood boil; if they were to somehow get out of here alive, she was certain it would only be one of them.

Spencer gulped, and Y/N was sure that had he the opportunity to he would be storming away right about now, but unfortunately for the both of them that wouldn't be happening anytime soon. The wonderful reality of this hitting Y/N, she kicked off her shoes and planted her bum down on the floor.

Spencer looked at her curiously while she did this, then quirked his lip and proceeded to do the same. He used his satchel as a pillow to support his head, and sighed loudly (it seemed deliberate just how exaggerative it was).

"No one is ever gonna find us here," Y/N said.

"We're not dying–"

"You don't know that. We could be suffocating as we speak-"

"Suffocation is impossible in elevators: the cars are designed not to be airtight and there's vents that allow air to move in and out," he pointed up at the grated opening above Y/N's head. At being proved wrong by Spencer and his big, unfathomable brain, she crossed her arms much like a stroppy toddler and even pouted her lip.

"We could still die," she mumbled.

"The statistics of that are still very unlikely; in fact, the people that die the most in elevators are elevator technicians themselves. An average of 26 people die in elevators every year in America–"

"And you're ready to be one of those 26?"

"We're not going to be. We won't suffocate, and it hasn't fallen."

"Yet," she said. "Plus, theres other ways to die. Like, I don't know, murder perhaps?" She said with a potent glare in his direction. He gave her a blank stare partnered with a sarcastic smile, one that only made Y/N more devoted to her other-ways-to-die initiative.

"We just have to wait a while... Did you know the longest duration of time someone was stuck in an elevator was 41 hours? Nicholas White. And all he had to eat was a packet of Rolaids."

More than accustomed to tuning out Spencer's rambles, Y/N barely heard what he was talking about, in a dazed trance where she was focused intently on where the paint didn't match the wall, she was so invested she almost missed what he said.

"Wait... oh my god. Do you have food?" She asked, sitting up from her subsided posture.

Spencer's face softened in dread, which didn't bring any aid nor optimism to their situation.

She watched him sit forward, shoving hands into the pockets of his blazer, coat, trousers and pulling out nothing but a few crumpled pieces of paper. Y/N matched him with an empty gum wrapper and a Walmart receipt displaying a concerning amount of pregnancy tests she had purchased last month.

"Do I even wanna know?" Spencer asked, chucking it back to the ground with a grimace as if it was riddled with germs (it probably was but, still).

"All you need to know is that I'm not pregnant," Y/N scoffed, almost amicably, but her eyebrows creased and she was back to a fuck everything this sucks expression in less than a second.

"Well we can't survive on this."

"You really haven't brought any food?" Spencer pestered.

"No, I had Chinese leftovers on the cards for tonight. And I don't see you offering anything up; what's your excuse?"

Spencer only groaned, again. He kicked his feet out and let his head fall onto the wall back in the same place. He ran a hand through his hair, and the scarce gel he had used to keep it in place disassembled around his face in random strays of curls. The sight of him relaxing like he was settling in for the night didn't appease Y/N one bit.

While Spencer closed his eyes, Y/N got to her feet and decided slamming on the door again was a better pastime. Spencer, however, did not agree.

At the banging, Spencer's eyes shot open and his body shook in alarm. His eyes darted around the space frantically until they landed on Y/N's figure aligned with the doors on which she was unleashing hell. If yelling could open an elevator, they'd have been out in a jiffy.

"I think we've established that doesn't help," Spencer said.

"Then you help!" She shouted, continuing the thrashing of metal.

"How?"

"I don't know!" Her shriek echoed, and she yet again gave up on the violence. "Use that big brain of yours and find us a way out of here."

"The 7 steps to surviving being stuck on an elevator are fundamental; we've already done them. They include pressing the open button, the alarm and call button. We still have our light source, otherwise finding one would have been number two. We've tried yelled for help. The only one we haven't done is stayed calm," he said with a heavy emphasis in her direction. Currently, she was the epitome of panic.

Y/N furrowed a brow at him, "That's six. What's number seven?"

She watched Spencer inhale deeply before he told her, "wait it out."

Y/N felt her heart sink. The possibility of her going insane while being confined within this space was only increasing as the minutes passed by. And with that, she felt like oxygen was depleting alongside it. She took a big breath to remind her that there was still air to breathe, and Spencer caught sight of it.

"Are... are you claustrophobic?"

"No!"

His eyes widened at her outburst, and he even raised his hands in defence should the situation present itself, which was looking pretty inevitable.

"I'm not, I just... get a little... panicked, that's all."

"You don't say," he murmured, and —with a grunt— got to his feet again. He treaded towards the damned doors. Y/N thought he was going to bang on them again, and she took front-row seat on the floor to watch the imprudent, futile attempt. Instead, Spencer's long arachnid-like fingers dug into the crevice of the doors and he tried to pry them open. This was an even vainer approach; his strained groans showed such.

"It's no use. We're gonna be here for a while. I can offer you a juice carton," Y/N spoke, making Spencer turn attentively at the word 'juice'. He looked down to where she was rummaging through her bag and depositing a few random objects while she did so. In a very Mary Poppins like fashion, the entities incessantly kept coming and coming, gathering in remarkable piles on the floor. There seemed to be more things than space available, but then they were trapped in an elevator and space was one of the many luxuries the agents realised they had taken for granted. Despite his astonishment at the growing belongings, there seemed to be a concerning lack of food present.

She was, however, holding out an apple juice carton, and Spencer figured that you get what you're given. So while her attention focused to the remnants of whatever was in her bag, Spencer punctured the carton with the straw, and began sucking. He made a squeal of surprise and relief when he saw her pull out a feebly wrapped, half eaten bag of crackers.

"Oh, I forgot about these," she announced, with the first smile Spencer had seen from her since the elevator had broken down.

He leaned down to grab the bag, dusting off the sprayed crumbs and then took a seat to Y/N's left. He left space between them for chivalrous purposes and also to allow space for the bag of crackers to sit.

They made attempts to ration the snack, but it soon developed into an every man for himself situation when Y/N noticed Spencer had started to take two at once.

She wasn't even hungry anymore, but the hunger for beating Spencer at something prevailed and disregarded any logical thought that they ought to save food, so she dove in again for another cracker. Unluckily, she did so at the same time as Spencer, so it made for an awkward encounter when their hands collided but neither was willing to give up their slot in the bag.

Eventually (because they didn't want the other to notice their blush), they gave up when time ran too long and reached a compromise with halving the cracker. Y/N gave Spencer the bigger half of her failed equal snap, but neither of them addressed it.

Neither of them addressed anything actually, for the next... god knows how long they were cooped up in there. They sat in a pleasant silence, free from any awkward glances or trepidations: it was both from the fact that they were in their own heads, and a serendipitous comfort in one another.

"I'm sorry you're going to miss your Doctor Who... thing," was what broke the silence.

"Oh, it's okay. I can just watch it on repeat tomorrow."

"Okay," Y/N laughed softly, and they floated into another quiet.

"I'm sorry you're stuck in an elevator."

"Ha! Me too."

"When we get out of here maybe we can go for Chinese food," Spencer suggested, craning his neck to look at her with a discreet smile.

"Sure," she agreed. "By the time we get out my food at home might have rotten anyway."

And then time after that just... passed. In Spencer's satchel he had an uncanny assortment of reading material to thrive on, and amid her odd collection of pretty much everything she had ever owned, Y/N found an old MP3 player and some earphones (only the left ear worked, but it was as good entertainment as she was going to get).

There comes a point, though, when one person can only listen to so much music from their teen years; Y/N's taste back then was... questionable, to say the least. And her earphone seemed to agree with her, because it gave out just when the unmistakable sound of an NSYNC song began.

"Ugh, just when it was getting good!" She complained, tugging the bud from her ear and throwing it onto the miscellaneous pile.

Spencer's head quirked to Y/N, but his eyes only followed after he had finished a sentence on his page. When he did, he saw her curiously leaning over his shoulder and squinting at the words.

"You can borrow it if you want," he said. "This is my third time reading it and I have others."

He gestured to his pile, which had evolved into a makeshift bookcase in the corner of the elevator. A few pages were torn, and the spines were so worn down that she could barely make out what the titles were. Not from a lack of TLC, but rather copious amounts of it; having been read over and over again. 

"No, it's okay. You continue, I'll just... meditate, or something."

"It's a good book," Spencer said, and he sounded like he was trying to persuade her, so she gave in and nodded. Readjusting her posture, she focused again on where the paint didn't meet the wall as she listened to the one thing she thought she wouldn't ever be able to stand: Spencer Reid's voice.

———

Which, to her and Reid's surprise, she found quite calming. Her hidden envy and not so hidden annoyance with his ability to reel off facts and wisdom like he was only recalling what he had for dinner hindered any fondness Y/N could associate with his voice. Until now, that is.

He was reading Strangers on a Train, supposedly his third favourite book, and they were reaching "the best bit" according to Spencer, but then every bit within the past forty five minutes since he'd started reading had been "the best bit", so Y/N wasn't sure.

But she's pretty calm, as calm as she can be stuck in an elevator, so she's actually thankful she has Spencer of all people beside her. She knew that if Morgan was in his place they'd have attempted murder at least a couple times by now; not to say that Y/N hadn't considered stabbing Spencer at all, but there's only so much damage a blunt pencil at the bottom of her bag could do.

So, she's calm. She's barely following the story because she only joined in halfway through, but she's grasped the basis of it because Spencer reads so eloquently and so well that he's practically painted the vividness of the narrative for her, even though he vouches it's down to Patricia Highsmith's words, which is true, but Spencer has a role in it too.

One thing Spencer recites makes Y/N wonder why she's never had him read to her before.

"People, feelings, everything! Double! Two people in each person. There's also a person exactly the opposite of you, like the unseen part of you, somewhere in the world, and he waits in ambush."

The story portrays an uncanny resemblance to the plots of the abundant crime scenes they analyse daily (Y/N wonders how Spencer comes home from work only to read about the same gory instances): the same mannerisms, behaviours and intricate understanding of criminal attitudes. It's accuracy is so astounding that Y/N asks if the author was ever a profiler of sorts.

Although it's selfish, because Y/N is not the real victim, she wished there was some way Highsmith's words could spring into real life and provide tainted rose coloured spectacles to which she could observe reality through. In some sick way, Y/N needed to see beauty in things like murder. She sometimes forgot that what they were doing had a purpose, and they tended to be the good guys. But there was no writing beautiful enough for Spencer to read and glorify the crimes with.

But even Y/N thinks Spencer's reading could help her see life through more of the silver lining rather than shrouded by the dark cloud that accompanied it.

The moment of rare serenity within Spencer's words is suspended, however, when he suddenly stops with no obvious justification. Y/N wonders if she's missed something profound within the story again so she goes to read over them on the page this time (because she's been rather entranced in Spencer's voice rather than the actual words), except when she looks up she sees a look of horror depicted on Spencer's face: one that doesn't register with her primarily because what's happening in the story is rather quite mundane compared to the dismay on his face. It's so poignant that she thinks something must be fatally wrong.

"What is it?" She asks, sitting up (and away because she thinks he may be about to vomit. But no, the real reason is even more horrific).

"I need to pee."

Y/N gasps; she hadn't even conjectured this predicament. It was a basic human necessity, how had she not anticipated this would happen? At first she thought, hey it's not that bad, better him than me— he can stand. Until she realises that there isn't really anywhere to stand.

"Oh no," she whispers, and he looks at her dauntingly. "You shouldn't have drank that apple juice."

"What was I supposed to do, bathe in it?" He scorns, and the two connect in an unwavering exchange eye contact with one another. Y/N dreads looking away in fear of what he'll do when she has her back turned.

So, like I said, Y/N was pretty calm, and I'd say Spencer was too; reading was a delight, and he found Y/N almost as endearing (almost). Life was bearable until Spencer needed to pee.

And it is here that they throw all peace out the window (if there was one) and give up on step number seven, and instead say hello to their old friend step number five: frantic yelling.

The energy pent up from lazing around reading and being read to is released fairly effectively. Y/N thinks she's never screamed so loud in her life, and Spencer knows he hasn't: entrapment and a full bladder can take one hell of a toll on a man.

And when the profusion of footsteps and the clanging of doors sounds, it is glorious. It is what they imagine heaven to sound like and more. Y/N collapses to the ground in relief, and Spencer throws his hands up in a prayer of thanks (even though he doesn't necessarily believe, but he is just so high on adrenaline and the discomfort of needing a wee that he'd just about believe anything now if it meant he could get to a bathroom).

"You guys okay in there?" A voice calls in from above them (Spencer genuinely thinks it's God) and Y/N has never been more happy to hear Derek Morgan.

"We're good! We're good! Oh my god, get us out of here please!"

"Right on it, baby. Bet y'all thought you were gonna die in there, huh?"

"Worse," Y/N called, "I thought I was gonna have to see Spencer's dick!"

Morgan laughed (music to their ears: any voice that wasn't each other's fit that criteria in that moment), and then told her he didn't want to know. Spencer and Y/N heard him holler behind him, and even more footsteps approached. Y/N couldn't see much from the slither between the doors that had just been pried open, since they had fallen a considerable distance from their floor. What she could see was only half of Morgan's face while he knelt on the ground.

"What happened?" Spencer asked, trying to gain some understanding for the reason behind missing his Doctor Who marathon.

"Power cut. The whole city's in blackout."

"You're kidding," Y/N replied, then turned. "A whole lotta people just risked that 1 in 26."

"Us included," Spencer said.

They recognised the voices of the maintenance team, and even a few uniforms of firefighters that worked on opening the doors with as much force as they could muster. Y/N looked again to the wall and paint mismatch, finding it too unsettling to look at their rescue attempt (that had way too much potential to go wrong) and even more unsettling to look at Spencer who was practically cradling his crotch.

"Ladies first!" A fireman called, and his hand reached into the space they had managed to (barely) increase, hoping that it wouldn't prove to be too difficult. From what Morgan told them, Spencer wouldn't have any trouble getting through it if they had halved the space ("the kid's a sherbet stick, I'm telling you").

"No, we've got a man here who's about to explode," Y/N joked, forgetting that the word 'explode' is a term one should use lightly within the headquarters of the FBI. She was blissfully reminded of this when the few surrounding agents brandished their guns. They almost didn't let them out until Spencer yelled that if he didn't get to a bathroom that instant he would give them a real reason to get their guns out.

So he was lifted out first, falling into Morgan's arms the chance he got to. He, somehow, managed to wait until he saw Y/N definitely leave the elevator before racing off down the hallway. Maintenance didn't even bother telling him that the doors have been locked because officially work finished three hours ago; they figured he had enough vigour in him to knock a wall down, never mind a door.

"Are you alright?" Morgan asked Y/N, lifting her up onto her own to feet. She's given a shock blanket, which is a pretty cool souvenir.

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"Miraculously. I don't know how you survived in there with him; I'd go insane."

"Eh," she chuckled, "he's not too bad."

———

After gathering their belongings, Y/N and Spencer make their way to leave work, again.

Morgan's nonchalant explanation of the blackout is in no way accurate to the genuine portrayal of, what Y/N can only describe as, a thriller movie come to life. She's looking out the wide scale windows in the bullpen room and can only see her reflection. It's creepy. Skittishly, she jumps when Spencer's image shows up behind her own. 

"Jesus, haven't I had enough near death experiences tonight?" She asks, holding a hand over her heart that she's sure just kickstarted (for various reasons).

"Sorry," he laughs. Placing his hands in his pockets, Y/N can sense he's more relaxed now that he's peed and no longer trapped within the restrictions of one metre.

They smile, then look out again to the darkened abyss before them. Y/N has never seen the city so quiet, yet she knows it's anything but. Once she steps outside it's bound to be hectic central.

"You normally get the subway, what are you gonna do?"

"Oh, I guess I'll just walk," Spencer shrugs.

"Absolutely not. I'll drive you home."

"Oh, no, you don't have to do that—"

"Spence, I just spent the last three hours in a confined space with you, I'm sure I can do twenty minutes more," she said. "Get your stuff ready, we can head off now."

She swung her bag over her shoulder and turned to walk out the bullpen, her heels reverberating throughout the room. Spencer watched her stride out by her reflection in the window, as to not be caught staring.

"If my car breaks down I'm gonna commit murder!"

Spencer laughed loudly, which made Y/N smile as she passed the kitchenette. When he continued to chuckle to himself he realised he wouldn't mind another three more hours stuck with her— at least he'd have an excuse if the car broke down. Maybe if he set off now he could get there in time to beat Y/N to her car and slash the tyres. He kindly reminded himself that that's illegal while he retrieved his satchel off the back of his chair and strutted out the office.

He wasn't too far behind Y/N when he suggested getting a Chinese on the way back.

"Is that a date?"

"If eating a Chinese takeaway in your car is your idea of a date," he sang.

"It very much is," Y/N grinned irrefutably.

He held the door open for her, she said thank you, and their giddy (dare I say lovesick) smiles dropped when they faced the elevator.

They've taken the stairs every day since.

fin.

[snarktheater]

Hey, d'you have any French book recs? I'm trying to work on my French, and rn I have downloaded one of my favourite book series' French translations, but I figured maybe books already written in French might work better? Also have you read the Ranger's Apprentice series? 1/2

RA's def flawed - the books' narration does like to point bright arrows at the protagonists' intelligence, and the last few books def have the tone of 'old white man trying to write feminism', although at least he's trying? - and it's aimed more to the younger side of YA, but it is still a very fun series, and I can ignore the flaws fairly easily, at least partly due to nostalgia? This rather long lol but I'm wordy.

I'll start with the second question: no, although every time the series is brought up I have to check the French title and go "oh, right, I've seen these books in stores". But I've never purchased or read them. It sounds like something I probably would have enjoyed as a teen but I just missed the mark, and these days I'm trying to drown myself in queer books, so that probably isn't happening.

As for your first question, geez, I haven’t read a French book in years, so this is gonna skew middle grade/YA, though that may not be so bad if the point is to learn the language. I will also say that as a result, these may read a little outdated.

I'll put it under a cut, even if Tumblr has become really bad with correctly displaying read mores. Sorry, mobile crowd.

It's also likely that old readers of the blog will have seen me talk about most of these. I don't feel like going through old posts.

One last thing: while I was curating this list I took the time to make a Goodreads shelf to keep track of those.

The Ewilan books by Pierre Bottero

(It's a testament to how long ago I read these books that these are not the covers of the edition I own, and I can't even find those on Google. I'm settling for a more recent cover anyway since it'll make it easier to find them, presumably)

There are at least three trilogies (that I know of) set in the same world.

The first trilogy is essentially an isekai (so, French girl lands in parallel fantasy world by accident) with elements of chosen one trope, though I find the execution makes it worth the while anyway.

The second trilogy is a direct sequel, so same protagonist but new threat, and the world gets expanded.

The third one is centered around a supporting characters from the previous books, and the first couple of books in it are more her backstory than a continuation, though the third one concludes both that trilogy and advances the story of the other books as well.

Notably these books have a really fun magic system where the characters "draw" things into existence. It's just stuck with me for some reason.

A bunch of stuff by Erik L'Homme

I have read a lot of this man's books, starting with Le Livre des Etoiles.

They also skew towards the young end of YA, arguably middle grade, I never bothered to figure out where to draw the line. They're coincidentally also using the premise of a parallel world to our own (and yes, connected to France again, the French are just as susceptible of writing about their homeland), but interestingly are set from the point of view of characters native to the parallel world.

It also has a very unique magic system, this one based on a mix of a runic alphabet and sort-of poetry. I'll also say specifically for these books that the characters stuck with me way more than others on this list, which is worth mentioning.

This trilogy is my favorite by Erik L'Homme, but I'll also mention Les Maîtres des brisants, which is a fantasy space opera with a pirate steampunk(?) vibe. I think it's steampunk. I could be mistaken. But it's in that vein. It's also middle grade, in my opinion not as good, but it could just be that it came out when I was older.

Another one is Phaenomen, which was a deliberate attempt at skewing older (though still YA). This one is set in our (then-)modern world and centers a group of teens who happen to have supernatural powers. I guess the best way to describe it is a superhero thriller? If you take "superhero" in the sense of "people with individualized powers", since they don't really do a lot of heroing.

...I really need to brush up on genre terminology, don't I.

The Ji series by Pierre Grimbert

This one is actually adult fantasy, though it definitely falls under "probably outdated". It is very straight, for starters, and I'd have to give it another read to give a more critical reading of how it handles race (it attempts to do it, and is well meaning, but I'm not sure it survives the test of time & scrutiny, basically).

If I haven't lost you already, the premise is this: a few generations ago, a weird man named Nol gathered emissaries from each nation of the world and took them to a trip to the titular Ji island. Nobody knows what went down here, but now in the present day, someone is trying to kill off all descendants from those emissaries, who are as a result forced to team up and figure out what's going on.

I'm not going to spoil past that, though I will say it has (surprise) a really unique magic system! I guess you can start to piece together what my younger self was interested in. Which, admittedly, I still am.

Once again, this one also has a strong cast of characters, helped by rich world building and the premise forcing the characters to come from many different cultures (though, again, I can't vouch for the handling of race because it's been too long).

The first series is complete by itself, though it has two sequel series as well, each focusing on the next generation in these families. Because yes, of course they all pair up and have kids. Like I said: very straight.

A whole lot of books by Jean-Louis Fetjaine

OFetjaine is a historian, and I guess he's really interested in Arthurian mythos especially, because he loves it so much he's written two separate high fantasy retellings of them! I'm not criticizing, mind you, we all need a hobby.

The former, the Elves trilogy (pictures above) is very traditional high fantasy. Elves, dwarves, orcs, a world which is definitely fictionalized with a pan-Celtic vibe to it. The holy grail and excalibur are around, but they're relics possessed by the elves and dwarves with very different powers than usual. Et cetera.

Fetjaine also really loves his elves (as the titles might imply), and while they're not exactly Tolkien elves, there's a similar vibe to them. If you like Tolkien and his elf boner, you'll probably like this too. And conversely, if that turns you off, these books probably also won't work for you.

This series also has a prequel trilogy, centered around the backstory of one of the main characters. I...honestly don't remember too much about it, but I liked it, so, there you go, I guess.

I said Fetjaine did it twice. The other series is the Merlin duology, which, as the title implies, is a retelling of Merlin's story. Note that Merlin is also in the other trilogy, but it's a different Merlin; like I said, completely different continuities and stories.

This one is historical fantasy, so it's set in actual Great Britain, and Fetjaine attempts to connect Arthur to a "real" historical figure...but, you know, Merlin is also half-elf and elves totally exist in Brocéliande, so, you know. History.

Okay, that's probably enough fantasy, let me give some classics too.

L'Arbre des possibles et autres histoires - Bernard Werber

Bernard Werber is a pretty seminal author of French sci-fi and I should probably be embarrassed that the only book of his that I read was for school, but, it is a really good one, so I'll include it anyway.

It's a novella collection, and when I say "sci-fi" I want to make it clear that it's very old school science fiction. It's more Frankenstein or Black Mirror than Star Trek, what we in French call the anticipation genre of science fiction: you take one piece of technology or cultural norm and project it into the future.

It has a pretty wide range of topics and tones, so it's bound to have some better than others. My personal faves were Du pain et des jeux, where football (non-American) has evolved into basically a wargame, and Tel maître, tel lion, where any animal is considered acceptable as a pet, no matter how absurd it is to keep as a pet. They're both on a comedic end, but there's more heartfelt stuff too.

L'Ecume des Jours - Boris Vian

(no cover because I can't find the one I have, and the ones I find are ugly)

This book is surrealist. Like, literally a part of the surrealist movement. It features things such as a lilypad growing inside a woman's lungs (and, as you well know, lilypads double in size every day, wink wink), the protagonist's apartment becoming larger and smaller to go with his mood and current financial situation, and more that I can't even recall at the moment because remembering this book is like trying to remember having an aneurysm.

It is also really, really fun and touching. Oh, and it has a pretty solid movie adaptation, starring Audrey Tautou, who I think an international audience would probably recognize from Amelie or the Da Vinci Code movie.

I don't really know what else to say. It's a really cool read!

Le Roi se meurt - Eugène Ionesco

Ionesco is somewhat famous worldwide so I wasn't even sure to include him here. He's a playwright who wrote in the "Theater of the Absurd" movement, and this play is part of that.

The premise of this play is that the King (of an unnamed land) is dying, and the land is dying with him. I don't really know what else to say. It's theater of the absurd. It kind of has to be experienced (the published version works fine, btw, no need to track down an actual performance, in my humble opinion).

The Plague - Albert Camus

You've probably heard of this one, and if you haven't, let me tell you about a guy called Carlos Maza

I'm honestly more including this book out of a sense of duty. The other three are books I genuinely liked and happen to be classics. This book was an awful read. But, um. It's kind of relevant now in a way it wasn't (or didn't feel, anyway) back in 2008 or 2009, when I read it. And I don't just mean because of our own plague, since Camus's plague is pretty famously an allegory for fascism, which my teenage self sneered at, and my adult self really regrets every feeling that way.

Okay, finally, some more lighthearted stuff, we gotta talk about the Belgian and French art of bande dessinée. How is it different from comic books or manga? Functionally, it isn't. It really comes down more to what gets published in the Belgian-French industry compared to the American comics industry, which is dominated by superheroes, or the Japanese manga industry, which, while I'm less familiar with it, I know has some big genre trends as well that are completely separate.

The Lanfeust series - Arleston and Tarquin

This is a YA mega-series, and I can't recommend all of it because I've lost track of the franchise's growth. Also note that I say "YA", but in this case it means something very different from an American understanding of YA. These books are pretty full of sex.

No, when I say YA I mean it has that level of maturity, for better or worse. The original series (Lanfeust de Troy) is high fantasy in a world where everyone has an individual magical ability but two characters find out they're gifted with an absolute power to make anything happen, and while it gets dark at times, it's still very lighthearted throughout, and the humor is...well, I think it's best described as teen boy humor. And it has a tendency to objectify its female characters, as you'll quickly parse out from the one cover I used here or if you browse more covers.

But still, it holds a special place in my heart, I guess. And on my shelves.

The sequel series, Lanfeust des Etoiles, turns it into a space opera, and goes a little overboard with the pop culture reference at times, though overall still maintains that balance of serious/at times dark story and lighthearted comedy.

After that the franchise is utter chaos to me, and I've lost track. I know there was another sequel series, which I dropped partway through, and a spinoff that retold part of the original series from the PoV of the main love interest (in the period of time she spent away from the main group). There was a comedy spin-off about the troll species unique to this world, a prequel series, probably more I don't even know exist.

Les Démons d'Alexia

Something I can probably be a little less ashamed of including here.

Some backstory here. The Editions Dupuis are a giant of the Belgian bande dessinée industry, and for many, many years I was subscribed to their weekly magazine. That magazine was (mostly) made up of excerpts from the various books that the éditions were publishing at the time; those that were made of comic strips would usually get a couple pages of individual scripts, while the ongoing narratives got cut into episodes that were a few pages long (out of a typical 48 page count for a single BD album). Among those were this series.

For the first few volumes, I wasn't super into this series, probably because I was a little too young and smack dab in the middle of my "trying to be one of the boys" phase. But around book 3 I got really invested, to the point where I own the second half of the series because I had canceled by subscription by then but still wanted to know more.

Alexia is an exorcist with unusual talents, but little control, who's introduced to a group that specializes in researching paranormal phenomena, solving cases that involve the paranormal, that kinda stuff.

As a result of the premise, the series has a pretty slow start since it has to build up mystery around the source of Alexia's powers, but once it gets going and we get to what is essentially the series' main conflict, it gets really interesting.

Plus, witches. I'm a simple gay who likes strong protagonists and witches.

Murena

There was a point where my mtyhology nerdery led me to look for more stuff about the historical cultures that created them, and so I'd be super into stuff set in ancient Rome (I'd say "or Greece or Egypt" but let's face it, it was almost always Rome).

Murena is a series set just before the start of Emperor Nero's rule. You know, the one who was emperor when Rome burned, and according to urban legend either caused the fire or played the fiddle while it did (note: "fiddle" is a very English saying, it's usually the lyre in other languages). He probably didn't, it probably was propaganda, but he was a) a Roman Emperor, none of whom were particularly stellar guys and b) mean to Christians, who eventually got to rewrite history. So he's got a bad rep.

The series goes for a very historical take on events, albeit fictionalized (the protagonist and main PoV, the titular Lucius Murena, is himself fictional) and attempts to humanize the people involved in those events. Each book also includes some of the sources used to justify how events and characters are depicted, which is a nice touch.

It's also divided in subseries called "cycles" (books 1-4, 5-8 and the ongoing one starts at 9). I stopped after 9, though I think it's mostly a case of not going to bookstores often anymore. Plus it took four years between 9 and 10, and again between 10 and 11. But the first eight books made for a pretty solid story that honestly felt somewhat concluded as is, so it's a good place to start.

[krumbine]

It's time for a reboot.

As it turns out, I do this a lot -- literally, resetting my life after things have stopped making any sense. I'm 36 and twice-divorced -- it's hard to have a more significant reset than that, my friends.

It's been 18 months of this pandemic. 18 months that have seen a furlough, layoff, extended unemployment, shitty job interviews, the best job I've ever had, and the most professionally-creatively fulfilled I've ever felt.

It's been 18 months and I feel like I'm a different person. Which means it's time to take stock, re-assess, and reboot.

Because the thing is, I'm tired of apologizing.

I'm tired of apologizing for wanting to be safe.

I'm tired of apologizing for having the means -- remote work, good pay, and little life responsibilities -- to stay safe.

I'm tired of apologizing for living in Florida, home of the Freedumb Fighting Antivaxx, Antimask Covid-Denying Patriots who Vote Against Their Own Best Interests Even if it Kills Them (and Especially When it Does Kill Them). The COVID story in Florida is like a vinyl record with a DeSantis-sized scratch straight through it. We're repeating the same horrible events over and over and over again but Floridaman thinks the record scratch is just an intentional part of the beat.

I'm tired of apologizing for Florida, but this is where I am. This is where I own my house, and -- guess what?? -- this is where I have the means to stay cautious and safe, despite my governor's persistent, insistent attempts to murder all of his constituents through shit public health policy.

I'm tired of apologizing to work, family, and other insignificant strangers -- no, the petri-dish of infection rates and the capacity-breaking hospital system does not leave me comfortable stepping out of my bubble. Two shots of Pfizer is not a biohazard suit-of-armor when the rest of Floriduh's residents are practically spitting in each other's mouths.

(My general rule of thumb: when the transmission and hospitalization rates are low-to-insignificant, then it's safe out. What's the point of risking infection -- or literally anything else -- if you won't be able to receive the care you need at a hospital?)

I'm tired of apologizing. So I think I'll stop.

Here's the pattern: new circumstances are introduced (job, significant other, pandemic), I learn and adapt, I get comfortable in the new routine, and then I slowly find my way back to the important things.

For me, those important things have always been personal creative work that satisfies my soul.

That's the pattern, now here's the reboot: life either supports the creative premise or it doesn't. If it doesn't, fuck it (within all reason).

'tis the Season

Devilmas runs from October 1 through December 31. It's about the family you choose, zombies and horror films, getting drunk, high, and happy, and doing creative shit for yourself.

It's the anti-holiday season.

It's also the perfect time to reevaluate what's important and who you want to be.

In other words ... it's the perfect time for a reboot.

Along with no longer apologizing for having the means and the desire to not get COVID, here are the top three things I think about when reevaluating, dismantling, and rebooting my life.

Less is more.

I've already gone through several phases of minimalism, and mentally, I don't hold onto very much. I've lived in tiny houses and trailers, even though that home I'm not apologizing for has four bedrooms and is nearly 2,000 square feet. (There are still random drawers in the kitchen that are just ... empty.)

My brain is wired for minimalism, but it's not always at the forefront. A reboot is an excellent opportunity to recenter that priority. And while I'm not planning on downsizing my house or anything in it, I do have one exception to minimalism. This fervent and unapologetic tech fetish can definitely be put in check.

Minimalism helps me refocus from:

"Oooh, shiny new gadget!" to:

"Pay off the car. Pay off the house. This is the way."

More or Less

The last 18 months have been a strange tug-of-war with productivity (this will tie into my third point below). While unemployed, I doubled down on my personal creative work, mainly focusing on writing (adapting, rewriting, and polishing novellas, writing a mess of short stories, developing and writing a few drafts of a feature film for a friend).

Of course, when you're unemployed (as well as when you're freelancing), you're never really "off". This means that even though I hadn't worked for a year, it was still one of the most overworked and stressful times of my life. You know what I'm talking about. And if you don't, see above -- I'm not apologizing anymore, especially to people who simply lack the experience or the imagination (or the empathy) to be reasonable.

My point here is that, in the grand scheme of life, I wanted to find a space where I was okay doing nothing. Fuck productivity and just chill, literally at 100%.

And let me tell you: it's fucking hard. Maybe not impossible, but definitely hard.

Now here's the plot twist (more or less). The task of giving myself permission to do nothing is carefully balanced with an inexplicable kind of inner peace. It's literally a quieted mind and soul -- something that I only discover when lost in a meaningful piece of creative work.

This got me thinking that perhaps the illusion of productivity isn't so bad. (Obviously, this isn't a blanket statement. A lot depends on the person you are and if you struggle with our society's fetishization of productivity. If that's you, then please take this section with an appropriate serving size of salt.)

Productivity doesn't matter as much as how my chosen activities feed my soul.

Work is work is work, but if I can prioritize creative art that helps me lose myself for hours at a time, well, maybe that is being productive. Or maybe it's just doing what makes me happy.

Finally, nothing matters. Finally.

This is always the most valuable part of any reboot since it's foundational and spans all other concepts.

In 36 years, I've learned the hard way how to be a pretty chill human, but things still get to me. At work -- that best job I've ever had? -- frustrations still mount. At home, when something insignificant disrupts the status quo.

But the truth is that nothing actually matters. And that perspective helps put frustrations into their place.

We're all just a speck of dust hurtling through the cosmos on another speck of dust, and -- statistically speaking -- when compared to an infinitely expanding universe, humanity doesn't even exist.

Nothing matters.

Except for the things that do matter. Which is whatever the fuck I want those things to be. Because nothing actually matters.

Talk about life hacks that matter.

Cheers, motherfuzzers.

[alisinchainmail]

More from the crossover fanfic no one asked for but everyone's getting...

Kylo + Quinn: The Last Harlequin: Ch. 1.2

[Gif sources: Part 1, Part 2]

Writers' favorite excerpt from Kylo + Quinn Chapter 1.2 of The Last Harlequin:

He exhales sharply through his nose and straightens. "My Knights of Ren detected you in our no fly zone. You didn't respond to our warnings we sent, so we mistook you for a threat."

She rolls her eyes, annoyed at the jab. "I guess I'm going to have to forgive you and your little Space Knights of Ni for not knowing who I am..." She does a flashy roundoff back handspring and flips over him so she's between him and her bat. "Harley Quinn, nice to meet ya." She extends her now uncuffed hand to the dark knight.

Overcompensating with stillness to hide that he's impressed with the stunt from an Earth girl, he looks down his nose at her hand. "Kylo Ren," he says quietly, giving her the decency of a reply. 

Harley withdraws her hand, slightly offended he still doesn't seem to have heard of her, "Never heard of me? The Cupid of Crime? The Maiden of Mischief? Princess... of Darkness." She trails off on that last one, unsure if she recently lost that title. "Formerly..." she corrects it quickly.

Kylo plays her game, "Leader of the Knights of Ren, Champion of the First Order, and Apprentice to Supreme Leader Snoke." He takes a step towards her, towering over her. She tilts her head acknowledging she has no idea what any of that really means, either.

"You're not part of the Resistance," he states more than asks. "However, the vehicle you stole has connections to the Rebellion. How?"

Clearly there's a lot of space politics that is not public knowledge on Earth. Why would Bruce Wayne be involved in space wars? He's probably friends with that Elon Muskrat. He's pretty sus with all that Space X shit.

She responds innocently, "Look, I just saw the thing in some local billionaire's driveway, and thought, 'Why not go for a joy ride?'" Kylo steps closer studying her expressions. Harley squints, "What?!" 

Kylo shakes his head, "The Empire has no use for you then. We'll decide what to do with you, or what remains of you, when we're done searching the vehicle."

Harley squints at him, gathering a pretty clear psychological profile from that golden threat of a response, his list of self-important titles, and his demeanor. It all screams of daddy issues.

If he wanted to kill her, he would've done it already. Is he her enemy or a potential new ally? How far can she push this guy before she finds out the hard way? 

She smirks and fires off, "So...you're building a crown-rule empire because daddy kicked you out. And you think this is a big fuck you, but in actuality it's a very misguided attempt to win back his respect." Kylo grips his helmet, and narrows his eyes at her.

Harley slowly steps back towards her bat, she looks at his mask grinning, "Daddy wanted a son, so now he has to hide behind a mask...I get it!" Kylo slams his helmet down on a sidetable next to him. This was too easy!

Harley continues, "Awh it's ok! I bet your mom still loves you. Mom's usually do... if they have the time to notice you through your desperate attention-seeking behavior." He looks in shock. 

She's really hitting a nerve with this guy. How is he so easy to read? "Or maybe you're trying to destroy the very thing that distracted her from you in the first place. Classic only child syndrome. She's part of this rebellion thing isn't she? Gotta love a rebel girl." Kylo lurches at her.

Harley lunges for the bat, but Kylo quickly raises his hand at it, sending it flying across the room. Harley looks at her empty hand, then across the room where it landed. What is he? Some sort of space wizard?

Harley shakes off her confusion, "Won't let me play with your toys? What would I expect from an only child with deep-seated father issues?"

Kylo yells, "Stop...TALKING," as he grabs at Harley. She dodges. Time to go all in.

"Tell me, what did dear old dad do to you? Or was it someone else? Got an uncle who paid some unnecessary visits to your bedside when mommy and daddy were away?"

Kylo clenches his fist and rolls his eyes. That was a hit. Harley taunts, "Awwhhh did I sink your battleship?"

"ENOUGH," he roars, grabbing a handle from his hilt and firing out a massive red flaming greatsword.

Harley stares at the new weapon in disbelief. "Come on! Lazer swords?! At least let me use my dinky baseball bat. I'm Little League compared to that!"

Co-Writer's (Brian) Notes:

I love this as an introduction to their relationship. Harley always has to get the last word in and Kylo is always struggling to keep his composure. Both their characteristics make them butt heads, and also is why they work.

They’re always gonna have a back forth with their personalities. A yin and yang basically where he’ll constantly try and stay level and she’ll try to trip him up.

Writer's (Alisin) Notes:

I like this part of the scene for their chaotic, impulsive energy playing off each other in different ways. Also for her first exposure to the world of Star Wars, which her inexperience with the world helps me get away with the fact I still haven't seen all of the Star Wars franchise yet and am newer to the fandom. We're sort of figuring out the world together.

I wanted them to be fairly evenly matched, which — much like with Rey— is Kylo's first experience with someone on equal ground like that, so it throws him off at first.

Harley is skilled with getting in people's heads from a psychoanalytical standpoint, whereas Kylo uses more of a brute force approach later in the scene. Luke criticized the way the Knights of Ren use the dark side of the force as being unskilled "like a hammer". I bring that characterization into Kylo.

Kylo wields his emotions and fighting style with a lot of intensity rather than precision and agility. In spite of his bloodline making him a more powerful force wielder, he can be quite clumsy with it. As though his power is greater than himself and the conflict he carries disrupts his clarity in his actions, while also fueling the power of the dark side through his raw emotion.

With Harley, I like to keep her dancing in between both, since as a character she is more morally gray.

Her weapons of choice are sometimes literal hammers but her fighting style and wit can be very fluid and agile, similar to the fighting styles of those who utilize the light side of the force. Her actions are impulsive, but not clouded in self-judgements. Without the Joker's influence, she knows herself well enough to have some faith that her impulses are in alignment with her fluid morality.

And to bring it all back ti Brian's point:

Kylo is brute force like Harley’s weapon and she’s skilled and precise like a sword, his weapon. Neither will admit it but both could run into situations where the others methods work better. Harley has been forced to be chaotic in her approach for so long she’s sort of rebelling against it in her style. Kylo has been wielding the force like a hammer for so long that everything looks like a nail. This further adds to their yin and yang relationship dynamic and how they’ll be able to survive by adapting the others' strengths when they need them.

[GIF Source: Part 1, Part 2]

Check out the full chapter on Wattpad: The Last Harlequin. For mature audiences only.

Kylo and Harley's first meeting was originally going to be more simple, but then it just took a life of its own. This whole chapter was originally 4 parts for the Tiktok series, and now it's pushing 16 on Wattpad...and I'm still not done writing it. I have a drug trip scene in the works where they take an intense hallucinogen called Jabbawaska. Yes, this is how ridiculous the Wattpad gets. They're fun characters to write for and it's interesting to see how they bring new characteristics out of each other.

Episodes are currently being posted daily on Tiktok: @KyloQuinnCrossover. Chapter 1 exists in full on YouTube.

Part 1: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMePNHnKH/

Part 2: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMePNAJAE/

Part 3: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMePNGWTx/

Part 4: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMePNGwEn/

Ch.1.10 WP Promo: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMePN4pAy/

Ch.1.11 WP Promo: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMePNPmUS/

Ch.1.12 WP Promo: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMePNsnY7/

[jellyfax]

So, I kinda got a rebuttal to this ask I had sent to an "anti-shipper." I'm still pretty confused, frustrated, disappointed, and disturbed that a fair number of "anti-shippers" essentially OK’d the statements from Lindsay Ellis shown below. They, rather poorly, attempted to argue that she's not trying to portray all "anti-shippers" as being unreasonable, overly emotional, aggressive pearl clutchers who have their priorities mixed up. Even though that's clearly what she's doing here. She's using the Beetlejuice franchise as an example, a patient zero of sorts, for how "antis" (people critical of positive and romanticized depictions of abuse in media) ruin fandom with what Ellis views as unsolicited antics.

That group of so-called anti shippers also ignored how Ellis shows approval for what she describes as "an asexual couple [that] give off couple vibes." The couple in question are a 12-year-old child (Lydia) and an adult of indeterminate age (Beetlejuice). The implication here is that Ellis views the pair as a romantic couple which should be concerning to supposed antis. Those anti-shippers made no attempt to claim that that would constitute as a pedophilic relationship. And, they didn't seem even the slightest bit disturbed that, at least according to Ellis, the pedophilic ship could be canon to the Beetlejuice cartoon. Albeit, there's no real, hard proof that that's the case, it seems more like wishful thinking on the part of people who ship Lydia and Beetlejuice, but you'd think that anti-shippers would still be alarmed that child grooming and pedophilic child abuse may be being promoted in a children's cartoon.

It stands to reason that if she's fine with the elements of child grooming embedded in a relationship between Beetlejuice and Lydia,  it's not a stretch that she'd be alright with shipping something like Sesshomaru and Rin from Inuyasha. Oddly enough if you really think about it, Beetlejuice x Lydia is arguably worse than Sesshomaru x Rin, because it's rumored to be a canon romantic, "asexual" be dammed, relationship between a pre-pubescent girl and a grown man. Even SessRin doesn't have that kind of baggage because canonical shipping has not occurred between Rin as a child and the young adult Sesshomaru. It's strange that these anti-shippers express more ire towards the least substantiated and comparatively less controversial pairing (SessRin) while the more contentious ship basically gets a slide (Beetlebabe). Needless to say, both pairings represent child grooming in a positive way, so they're both atrocious and it's so bizarre that some antis would be so hesitant to admit that.🤷🏽‍♀️ UPDATE 3/21/2021: In retrospect, SessRin is a much worse pairing as to date it's been canonized in Yashahime. Even so, given her comments, it's safe to say that Lindsay Ellis would definitely think SessRin was fine too.

Then, those antis completely neglected the fact that Ellis presents antis here as mostly newbie fans brought in by recent adaptations and are largely interlopers in decades-old fandoms. Such intruders resist the "ship and let ship" way of elder fans and Ellis is not having it. No matter how unfazed she tries to seem about it, she's obviously very upset by what she believes is new fandom presumably spearheaded by those darn young'uns. What I'm saying is she's giving off noxious levels of fandom mom 'tude here. However, yet again the anti-shippers, some of whom practically wrote essay-length retorts, didn't even mention her clear bias against antis and her favor towards pro-shippers.

Lindsay Ellis isn't just passing overly generalized judgment against anti-shippers in the Beetlejuice fandom, she's applying that judgment to all antis across all fandoms. To defend her statements as an anti is antithetical, contradictory, and even hypocritical. If antis side with Lindsay Ellis on these ideas, it really means that they're going against most of what they claim they stand for. And for what? Ellis has a few good takes, so you won’t oppose her in anyway when it's brought to light that she bears a clear resentment towards people who speak out against media that portrays child grooming as attractive and harmless?

Like, yo she don't like people like you, why ya stanning her? She's not only passing judgment on antis who behave badly, those who harrass, bully, make false claims and are overall very abrasive, she dislikes all antis regardless of behavior. Lindsay Ellis wouldn't consider you one of the "good" antis and she'd never want to side with you over her ilk: pro-shippers. If you're an anti with a blog devoted to anti topics, you better believe she wrote this thread to make you feel like an unwanted, purity policing intruder in fan spaces. Geez, also the fact that these "anti-shippers" are pretty tolerant of fans shipping children characters with adult characters is unnerving in how incongruous it is. "When big media corporations OK positive depictions of child grooming it's totally bad, but if fans do it, those depictions don't really affect anyone or anything. Fan-made media, especially if it's easily and publicly accessible as well as prevalent, exists in a vacuum and bears no weight on how we view and interact with our world! Anti-shippers and pro-shippers can all just coexist, guys!!!"🤦🏽‍♀️ On second thought, maybe ~anti anti fandom moms~ like Ellis would be cool with you, since you give them so much leeway. I swear, this isn't the first time I've encountered antis that are this hypocritical and backpedal on their stances, and it won't be the last.

I had also mentioned how Lindsay Ellis's defense of the Twilight Saga greatly downplayed and even omitted core criticisms of the franchise like it's racism, misogyny, and child grooming in favor of only stressing how backlash against Twilight was due to misogyny directed at the writer and fanbase. Unsurprisingly, the anti-shippers dismissed that claim without much thought despite that being an ongoing issue prevalent in many assessments of the Twilight franchise.

Anyway, if you're critical of positive and romanticized depictions of abuse in media (both mainstream and fan-made), maybe don't stan or defend Lindsay Ellis. Especially when she makes "anti anti" comments like that shown below