#in which I as usual want everything to be ~workable with

[squareroot-1]

The new (no idea if actually new, but new to me) duolingo match madness thing is totally a good/useful/helpful activity format* for me and makes me want a way to do something like that with my Anki flashcards… (obviously not as a replacement for recall practice or whatever it’s called but as a thing that can do).

(*I don’t think it’s a very useful activity as is bc it isn’t doing words on the right level)

[shalotttower]

Permanence

Title: Permanence Fandom: Hunter x Hunter Summary: A simple evening at an art gallery turns into a daring decision to slip away from Chrollo's grasp. Word count: 2400+ Characters: Chrollo Lucilfer x Reader Notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, exploration of power dynamics, power imbalance.

Tonight you spend in the shower longer than you normally do. There're no tears, no, just exhaustion, both mental and physical that seems to be seeping into your bones deeper than ever. Waiting is the worst part. You don't know whether there will be any kind of consequences after the stunt you've pulled. You don't know if the extent of Chrollo's composure has stretched to anger - and that's after you've tried so hard to keep yourself from pushing him - or it's just annoyance. Which is not ideal, but workable.

It was supposed to be a nice, as much as it can be, evening. Just a walk through the gallery, a little bit of art admiration here, a little bit of talking there, maybe getting some dinner.

After the shower, you sit on the closed toilet lid, naked, and stare at the mirror that's still fogged from the steam. You don't like looking yourself in the eye lately, or rather what you see there. Fear doesn't become you. Neither does hopelessness. Your reflection seems foreign, unrecognizable at times when it should be familiar and safe, a thing you grew up with and are supposed to know by heart.

***

"I want to leave," you whispered when Chrollo put his arm around your waist. Yet another painting by an unknown artist; names that didn't ring a bell and suffering deities depicted on canvas twirled in an odd dance.

He didn't react immediately, so you repeated yourself. Something hinted that you should keep quiet and admire in silence, but something else entirely urged you to push. Perhaps it was too hot. Perhaps too many people were surrounding you and Chrollo's touch felt stifling rather than reassuring.

"Can we get out of here?"

He looked down at you, expression calm, and you could almost call it considering. The hand on your hipbone tightened just a notch, as if making sure you won't slip away.

"Not yet, dear. We haven't seen everything."

A sigh died somewhere in your chest before it got the chance to escape your lungs. "We've been here for over an hour," you managed. And while art usually caused pleasant emotions in you, right now it did nothing of sorts. People brushed past, paying little mind to the couple blocking one of the main hallways. You tried to not fidget under Chrollo's gaze.

Maybe he would've granted your request - who knows? Chrollo wasn't the type to deny you anything reasonable, not after almost four months of compliance - if a man had not appeared right next to you like a ghost out of thin air. You remembered him from a fine dinner, one of many. The memory was hazy, you had a glass of martini at Chrollo's indulgence which proved to be a bit stronger than expected. But the feeling, that sinking sensation of unease you got back then from the man's presence remained. As well as the smell of his cologne, leathery; it lingered behind him even after he left the table.

One look of his dark eyes was enough to make your stomach clench.

And then they started talking.

When you were a child you hated shopping with your mother. Groceries or clothing - no matter. It was not the process itself, but rather occasional encounters with other adults she knew. The chit-chats about everything and nothing could last forever, and you stood there, tugging on her hand to remind about your existence. Can we go? Can we go home, are you finished?

You weren't a child anymore, yet the impression of your own invisibility and being a silent accessory to Chrollo, although he occasionally looked down at you, brought those memories back.

The gallery room was too small. There were too many people.

The nape of your neck tingled.

You wrung your hand out of Chrollo's hold faster than any reasonable thought could stop you. He blinked in surprise, and that was the only time in four months you saw him taken aback for a small particle of a second. Before having a chance to see his composure settle back or properly regret your actions, you slipped through bodies like a fish. Stupid heels of elegant shoes with ankle straps and pointed toe tips hindered your every step. Your heartbeat hammered in your ears as if someone hit them with blunt force repeatedly. The dreadful dress he chose rustled against your legs, black velvet fabric clinging to your thighs when you tried to maneuver between visitors. You wanted to get out. Just to have some air. Just to take a breath.

"Dear," Chrollo's voice reached you from behind, but you didn't slow down. You passed paintings one by one. Saints screaming at your hasty steps and angry expressions seemed to judge you. "Dear." Louder now. People were throwing curious glances at you both.

You did not spot a waiter who stopped abruptly before you with a tray of wine glasses in time.

It was really supposed to be a nice evening.

***

You towel dry your hair until it feels acceptable enough and pull the pajama on, a silky set Chrollo gifted (replaced yours with). It is more comfortable than anything you've ever owned, but still too short on your frame and reveals way too much skin for your liking. He won't let you sleep not in the bed tonight, this much is obvious. The makeshift mattress you've made on the floor is nowhere to be seen just like you expected.

So be it.

Quietly you slip under the covers and turn on your side, facing the window. The sheets smell fresh and clean and there's even a hint of lavender underneath if you focus hard, but right now all you can focus on is getting through this night. Sleep comes quick. Or so you think because when Chrollo lies down next to you, you jerk awake. His body radiates warmth, not close enough to touch just yet, but the knowledge that it'll change soon causes a surge of nausea within you.

He shifts with a faint rustling of silk sheets. An arm comes to drape around your middle like a shackle; you move closer to the bed edge, curling yourself into a ball. It almost seems like you might fall off, and perhaps you will, really, your leg is already hanging in part.

A delicate kiss is placed at the top of your spine, bare where the shirt doesn't reach your shoulder blades. Another one follows on your vertebrae and then he pulls you flush against him. Your heartbeat speeds up and palms become cold; his - is slow and steady, like always.

"You're going to fall off," he whispers.

"Fine by me." You whisper too for some reason, despite there being nobody else to hear you.

There's a soft exhale from behind and his hand begins to rub circles on your tense stomach, lazy motions that go up to your rib cage and down to the belly button. Chrollo's breath tickles your nape and you know that if it wasn't for four months of constant touches, caresses and brushes, you would've pushed him away. Careful conditioning - that's what it is, you're not stupid. Your body knows him, his scent, his hands and voice now, even though your mind screams at them to keep their distance.

He hums when you shudder.

"Cold?" Chrollo asks. One of his fingers traces the hem of your shorts. Your hand comes over it and halts it midway.

"Please stop," you say, and it's the first time since this all started your voice is actually cracking, like an eggshell. Fragile at the edges.

He doesn't say anything but the motion ceases. Slowly, his hand retreats to come rest on your hipbone where it grants you a gentle squeeze.

Chrollo kisses the back of your head.

"Sleep," he tells you.

Easier said than done.

***

The new penthouse looks pretty much like any other you've stayed in – large bed and luxurious decor. It even has a grand piano standing in one of the corners which you have no idea how to play. Chrollo releases your hand and heads into the bathroom while you wander around, poking at things just for the sake of having something to do. A glass figurine of a little ballerina catches your attention. She seems frozen in her sorrowful stance, looking downwards to the ground beneath her tiny pointe shoes. You turn it this way and that, watching light catch on the shiny surface.

The shower starts running.

It's been only three days after the incident in the gallery and Chrollo hasn't commented upon it in the slightest. Maybe he's simply biding his time, you wouldn't be surprised.

Eventually you settle down onto the soft mattress and grab the first random book from the side table. Reading helps. Immersing yourself into fiction distracts from reality.

You thumb through the pages and find out that it's some sort of a romance novel, a period one judging by the writing style. Some duke-like character seems to be enamored with one of his maids but can't do anything about it because of social stigmas. The woman herself is poor as a church mouse yet beautiful beyond words - a bit cliché if you're honest, still there's nothing wrong with it per se, everyone can enjoy their guilty pleasures.

Chrollo emerges from the bathroom after some time, drying his hair with a towel. He moves about the room: unpacking your luggage, hanging up clothes in the closet, etc. Your eyes follow him without meaning to. There are times like this when Chrollo almost feels like a normal person. What he is doing seems domestic enough to trick your brain into short periods of blissful ignorance. Then your gaze falls onto the cross tattoo on his forehead and the illusion breaks like a soap bubble on a sunny day.

You turn another page and read half a paragraph before realizing you've absorbed absolutely nothing.

"What are you reading?" Chrollo sits by your side after he's finished unpacking. His voice is light, almost casual. Almost playful. It puts you on edge.

"Something I found." You close the book and show him the cover. "It was next to the bed."

He leans forward, glancing at the words written on the page. When Chrollo speaks, there's amusement in his tone. "Interesting."

Interesting. What's that supposed to mean? You keep your eyes trained on the text, but try as you might, the words seem meaningless, jumbled. Chrollo rests his hand on your calf. He keeps it there for a few moments before sliding it upward, slowly, toward your knee. You give him a look. "What are you doing?"

"Getting your attention," he responds with the simplicity of someone stating the weather outside.

"You have it. What is it?" It's that type of a stare he gives you that had almost transformed into his personal form of art. One that takes everything in without any effort – from your eyebrows furrowed in suspicion to the corners of your mouth turned downward into a frown.

"You know," Chrollo says thoughtfully. "I've been thinking."

Isn't he always?

He squeezes your leg under your knee, where skin is more sensitive and then you're cornered - right between him and the headboard.

"Your behavior in the gallery, dear. It was rather unexpected," he tells you and the sinking feeling turns into full blown nausea in your throat.

You knew it. Knew that he was going to get back to this, sooner or later. Fuck. "You've been behaving so well these past months and I wonder what prompted this."

Chrollo tilts his head.

"I'm sorry." You reply and shift. "I got anxious."

"Go on," he says when you don't elaborate, not sounding angry or upset, just curious. The warm thumb traces patterns on your knee cap - you hate how Chrollo does this, makes you talk when he could leave you alone and drop the subject.

You have to continue now.

"New spaces isn't really my thing, and yesterday I felt... Pressured. It wasn't intentional, I simply," you shrug your shoulders, "got overwhelmed and acted on impulse. I shouldn't have."

Your voice doesn't crack once and you're proud over that.

"Hm." Chrollo hums but it's neither approving nor disapproving, more like pondering. He moves closer so your knees bump against each other. This is dangerous territory – him being close while questioning you, you know better than to pull back now.

"You're sorry," he says, a strand of damp hair falls onto his forehead. "Are you sorry because you understand what you did wrong," each word is precise as if to drill into your head. "Or are you apologizing because you're afraid of the consequences?"

You stare at his shirt instead of his face. The top three buttons are undone, revealing a patch of pale skin. You want to button them up - knowing him, it's hardly a coincidence.

"Both, I think." You opt for honesty, because lying to Chrollo would most likely end with him seeing right through it, regardless of your efforts.

His frame effectively blocks out everything else from view: up close like this he's handsome, there's no denying it. Dark eyes framed by long eyelashes and soft lips and high cheekbones that make him look like a model out of a fashion magazine. And yet there's also coldness underneath it all, hidden behind those charming smiles and polite remarks. It sometimes gives you an uncanny impression: Chrollo seems frozen, suspended in that state of perpetual calmness, like time stopped ticking inside of his chest.

"What now?" You ask, heart thrumming somewhere deep near the bottom of your rib cage. The book lays forgotten next to you, pages bent after it slipped from your grasp and hit the mattress.

Chrollo cups your cheek with one hand, "Now we continue the evening."

Continue?

The confusion must show on your face because he chuckles. "You apologized," it feels patronizing but you try to ignore it for the sake of getting over with whatever this is. "And admitted your faults. I can overlook a single instance of defiance–especially since you explained yourself so well."

Relief washes over you, making your shoulders sag. You take the book, careful not to let your fingers brush, he seems to like skin on skin contact.

"I expect better behavior next time, dear."

"I'll try," You mutter under your breath.

His hand slips away from your thigh and moves to grab the remote - news, of course, - Chrollo watches news almost religiously every night before going to sleep. "I appreciate when you behave," he adds smoothly. "It makes everything much easier for both of us."

He settles his head on your lap, and it feels heavy, and his damp hair tickles, but you don't dare push him off.

[fixyourwritinghabits]

So I want to write a novel, and I outline my story and write out everything that happens in the outline and I get to the end and it's... Between 20,000 and 40,000 words, usually. Like I can tell a complete story but I have a hard time getting it to the length of a publishable novel, and it keeps happening with different stories I write. Do you have any advice for making a story longer without making it feel like I'm just adding stuff to make it longer?

While I think you have a workable length for a first draft, I can see where your problems lay. Let's tackle what your intended goal is first.

Industry standard (set by traditional publishing) for novels is the following:

Adult novels - 80,000 to 100,000 word count. Many will fall between that range. Sci-Fi and Fantasy novels tend to run higher, but you'll notice Romance, Mystery, and Crime tend to run tighter, closer to 80k. Literary novels (Contemporary and Historical Fiction) can swing up and down that word length. Door-stopper books of 200k can be found, of course, but that's the opposite of what we're dealing with.

YA Novels - Contemporary tends to stick to a tight 80k, but publishing tends to seek longer fantasy novels, sticking to the adult standard of 10k.

Middle Grade (8-11ish year old readers) - 30,000 to 60,000. Most publishers want something in the middle, as MG readers are constantly stretching their reading capabilities.

These are generalizations that are subject to change, of course, but they're good guides to follow when editing. Let's say you want to aim for an adult novel, which means you want to at least double your 40k length. While looking over your work, consider the following:

Does your main character have enough problems?

If your story can be resolved within the 40k mark, you may need to add more complications to their journey. Does their external problem (the outside issues they're dealing with, like losing a job or battling a sentient typhoon) adequately line up with resolving their internal problem (dealing with unresolved guilt, confronting a fatal flaw about themselves, apologizing to that sentient typhoon for leaving them at the altar, etc).

Save The Cat also talks about the Shard of Glass or Unresolved Wound, a deeply internal problem the protagonist has to confront about themselves in order to solve the main problem of the novel. Deepening your character's issues can buff up the need for more words to resolve them. (Not every story has the character 'fix' this issue - many novels are about characters failing to do just that, that unresolved flaw finally dooming them in the end.)

Subplots, Sidequests, and McGuffins

Subplots are their to enrich your novel with elements that contribute to the overall journey. Besides the main problem your protagonist is facing, what else is going on in their life? Do they need to confess a crush to a friend? Is their struggle to control their magical powers tied to a traumatic childhood? Does learning the truth about their family history force them to reflect on their own behavior? A subplot should weave back into strengthening the main story while adding more elements to make it more interesting. It's not as hard as it sounds - the more you think about your character's internal problem, the more you realize they'll need to confess their feelings, confront their mother, or more to resolve that final issue.

By sidequests, I'm leaning into the fantasy element of storytelling, but you'll find this pops up in a lot of stories. A chance encounter in a mystery can provide an essential clue, or stopping to aid someone could lead to a character-revealing moment. Remember, this isn't filler - you're expanding the overall plot by leaning into your world-building to establish essential knowledge about your world, introducing minor characters that can act as aids or obstacles to a problem, or starting an action scene that changes the trajectory of the novel.

A MacGiffin is an object, device, or event necessary to the plot and the motivation of the characters, but typically unimportant or irrelevant in itself. Usually, the MacGuffin is revealed early on, and becomes less important once the storyline is set in motion. You'll see a lot of despairing comments about them, because they often can be used poorly. But MacGiffins are often essential parts of storytelling, a quest that leads your characters astray from what they should actually be doing (and in turn learning about themselves and the problem they need to face instead).

Your character spends half the novel trying to find the missing crown, only to discover it's been fake the whole time. That whole first half of the novel was a waste of time... or was it? By having your characters fixate on the wrong solution, you're exploring what Save the Cat calls "Doing Things The Wrong Way" where the real answer is in digging deep down, confronting that internal problem, and setting down the right path at last. This is where the mid-novel twist of the king being the villain all along, the dragon they're meant to slay for killing the villagers turns out to be a card-carrying vegan. The easy answer isn't the solution, and it's taking the hard path that gets things done.

For Example...

In Jedediah Berry's genre-bending mystery novel The Manual of Detection, the main character is pulled into finding the missing detective he used to write the case files for. As with any good mystery, there's a lot of good side quests - going to a bar only to run into villains that need confronting later, a one-sided rivalry with another detective ends up solving a problem later, etc. A subplot starting the novel where the protagonist goes out of his way to encounter someone at a coffee shop turns out to be an essential character connection later, and the MacGiffin - the Manual of Detection itself - turns out to be more important because of what it lacks.

In Jeff Smith's graphic novel series Bone, in the beginning, the main characters remain blissfully unaware of the true danger hunting them or the secrets of those around them. But the villains too are unknowingly pursuing a MacGuffin, leading to a series of events that will bring about a massive clash - and a confrontation of truths that will lead to the final solution.

And Finally, Maybe It's Not a Novel

I do want to say this might all not be what you need, because your true calling could be to write novellas - a length that varies between 20k to 40k. A shorter story is just as good as a lengthier one. There's a steady market for novellas of multiple genres, so it could be a good thing to look into if this feels like where your writing should be.

[max1461]

I think there are three large classes of socialist concern, which are not reducible to each other and which require different types of solutions. I would describe them as follows:

Distributional concerns — Markets tend towards inequality, and thus even in times of abundance fail to allocate resources to people who need them.

Concerns over autonomy — Private control of resources, especially when it is highly concentrated, comes at the cost of the autonomy of those who don't control the resources. As a significant special case of this, private control of the means of production deprives workers of autonomy over their own work, which constitutes most of their waking lives. Concentration of property in the hands of the few leaves most people with no choice but to sell their labor, turning them into workers deprived of autonomy in the above sense.

Humanistic concerns — Markets optimize for specific outcomes and, furthermore, the desirable properties of market economies are predicated on the existence of firms which optimize for profit. In both cases these optimization procedures are premature; they do not factor in the full human condition and thus come at the cost of many things which people find desirable.

In my view, a successful socialist program must at least attempt to address all three of these concerns. Often when debating other socialists, I feel that they err by focusing on some of these concerns to the exclusion of the others.

I have listed these concerns in order of how difficult I believe them to be to solve. Concern (1) can, in fact, be solved relatively easily even within a liberal economic system, by implementing massive redistributive taxes that equalize wealth. I want to stress that this proposal is still radical by the standards of any nation on earth today, but a solution is easy to imagine. And all these problems are interrelated; solving (1), for instance, would go a long way towards remedying (2).

Concern (2) can also, I think, be solved or at least greatly mitigated under a market framework, though not a classical liberal one. Replacing private firms wholesale with worker co-ops would go along way towards addressing (2), and in combination with the above solution for (1) provides I think the easiest to conceptualize vision of what a workable socialist (socialist enough) economy might look like.

Concern (3) is by far the hardest to address—it is in essence just the alignment problem as applied to economic systems. Suffice it to say, the problem remains open.

A common theme I see in debates between certain (usually more liberal-leaning) practically-minded socialists and certain (usually more radical) utopian-minded socialists is that the practical socialist will propose some solution that aims to address (1) and (2), and the more utopian-minded socialist will respond with vague and often not particularly coherent accusations of insufficient radicalism. The practical socialist will often then reply by dismissing the utopian's criticisms as nothing but hot air, as unserious radical posturing. But I think this represents an unfortunate misunderstanding. That utopian is often pointing at something real, even if it is articulated in a way that offends more pragmatic sensibilities. Concern (3) touches on every part of human life, I think it's fair to say, and though the habit of incoherently blaming everything that goes wrong on capitalism is not that useful, it doesn't point at nothing.

The alignment problem is not solved in the general case, but there are things we can change about a system to try and make it more aligned with specific, known goals. So the job of a good socialist (or really, anyone interested in any kind of political reform) should then be to listen to the ways in which people are dissatisfied with their lives, even when articulated poorly, and try to accrue an understanding of the most recurrent and significant ways in which the present system fails to satisfy people. Then you can look for specific tweaks that will more readily accommodate the things people in fact seem to want. But crucially, this task in empirical—you cannot come upon the most desirable tweaks rationally. It's also empirical in a way that is difficult to approach with any kind of scientific rigor. You have to listen to people, and try to understand them on their own terms. You have to try to understand where people are coming from even if they phrase things in a way that you very much dislike, a way that irritates you or makes you feel threatened.

As I've said before, "listen to marginalized voices" is oft-misused, but not actually incorrect as a description of the practical obligations of anyone who wants to consider themself a leftist.

[a-dinosaur-a-day]

What follows is a retelling of the Jurassic Park story, mainly based on the 1993 film, with portions of the original novel used to supplement the story. The main point of divergence occurs when the park is unable to find workable nonavian dinosaur genetic material for cloning, since - as in the real world - dna degrades much too rapidly. Instead, the park consists only of extinct dinosaurs that can be brought back - birds from the last 2.5 million years. What happens after that is, as Ian Malcolm would say, an emerging pattern.

Infinite thanks to beta readers @killdeercheer, @otussketching, and @plokool! And extra thanks to @i-draws-dinosaurs for the killer logo!

Link to the masterpost of chapters

Chapter Two: Egg Mountain, United States

“Doctor Sattler! Doctor Grant! We’re ready to try again!”

Ellie stood up from the dirt in front of her, brushing off the sand from her shorts and looking around for the source of the call. Alan took a longer time to get up, looking grumpy and befuddled at the interruption.

“I hate computers,” Grant muttered.

Ellie wanted to laugh, but she managed to keep it in. Computers felt like something from a separate world – a cleaner one, a manufactured one. Out here, in the badlands, surrounded by mountains and dust and old bones, computers were alien. But they had one.

And it had quickly become Alan’s archnemesis.

“The feeling’s mutual,” Ellie joked, smirking at him as he shook his head in bemusement. The two walked down the side of the mountain towards the equipment, including a large lead slug dispenser (aka Thumper) and a portable computer covered in dust and dirt. The computer ran the computer-assisted sonic tomography (CAST) program – Thumper would send a lead slug into the ground, which would generate waves, allowing for the computer to get an idea of the layout of the ground around the slug. The computer would then, theoretically, show a reading of any fossils detected by the sonic waves. Usually, the best it could do was show the approximate location of a fossil – which saved significant amounts of time on digging. But, with repeated readings, sometimes a more detailed outline could be found. That detailed outline was then helpful for digging in the right location – and preserving that location from further environmental damage.

As they reached the bottom of the valley, the students activated Thumper, causing a loud boom to resonate through the mountains. Alan made a beeline for the computer monitor to read the info, while Ellie meandered behind him across the dirt.

“Hey Dr. Sattler!” one grad student shouted. She waved back at her with a smile. There weren’t a lot of women on the dig site, so each one supported the others as much as they could.

By the time she reached the monitor, the image from Thumper was finally loading on this screen.

“This new program’s incredible,” another grad student, a man this time, said, “Few more years development and we won’t even have to dig anymore!”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Alan scoffed, causing the gathering crowd around the screen to laugh with him.

“It’s... a little distorted, but I don’t think it’s the computer,” the student continued, typing away to try and manipulate the image’s presentation. Ellie could see right away, however, that the skeleton was in the right pose. She walked up to the screen and pointed, from a distance, at the tell-tale characteristics.

“Post-mortem contraction of the posterior neck ligaments... Deinonychus?”

“Yes, and it’s in good shape, too,” Alan confirmed, walking closer to the screen himself, “Five, six feet long, I’m guessing nine feet tall. Look at the –“

Suddenly, Alan’s touching of the monitor made everything go fuzzy.

“What’d you do?” Alan asked the student angrily.

“He touched it,” Ellie laughed, patting the student comfortingly on the shoulder, “Dr. Grant’s not machine compatible.”

“Hell, they’ve got it in for me,” Alan grumbled, before composing himself, “And look at the half-moon shaped bones in the wrists. It’s no wonder these guys learned how to fly!”

Everyone laughed around him. While birds being living dinosaurs was a fairly widely accepted hypothesis in the field, it still drew some chuckles – especially from the unaware.

“No, seriously!” Alan said, turning around to look at everyone, his educator face completely taking over the irritation face he had previously, “Dinosaurs have more in common with present-day birds than they do with reptiles. Look at the pubic bone, turned backward, just like a bird... look at the vertebrae, filled with air sacs and hollows just like a bird... and even the word Raptor means, ‘Bird of Prey’.”

“That doesn’t look very scary,” scoffed one of the children on the dig, an annoying little boy who was constantly complaining about the connections between living birds and their extinct dinosaur relatives, “More like a six foot turkey!”

Alan lost his educator face, and Ellie found herself smirking at the sheer irritation he had for an expression instead.

“Have you met a turkey, kid?” Alan asked.

“Oh no,” Ellie muttered, but she wasn’t about to stop him. Alan had been patient with the kid for weeks, and his time was up.

“Um, at Thanksgiving,” the kid responded.

“Okay. So, to begin with, a turkey is already nearly six foot – they can grow up to four,” Alan stated, smirking, “Then, when you are just alone in the woods – or, you think you’re alone – with no one around, guess what is the last thing you want to hear?”

“Um, turkeys?”

“The distant sound of many turkeys coming right in your direction. You see, turkeys – they aren’t predators. So they know at any time they could be on the receiving end of a horrible, horrible attack. And so they, like all prey animals over a certain size, will defend themselves to the death. More human deaths are caused by the vegetarian hippopotamus each year than by sharks or any other predator. And turkeys? They have that ferocity, too.”

The kid did not have a response to that.

“Some might peck you. That has a nasty sting. Others may just run at you, flashing their feathers, making loud sounds. Enough to set your teeth on edge. And then there are the kickers. Nowhere more than the feet can you see how birds are just dinosaurs among us,” Alan let out a snort, “Those claws, that force, it is enough to break bones and other organs.”

Alan stepped up closer to the boy, getting right in his face. Ellie watched, moderately mesmerized, too much so to intervene.

“Just one, a human alone could not deal with. But on your own, surrounded by who knows how many? You would wish it was a Deinonychus, kid. A Deinonychus eventually gets full.”

The boy visibly gulped in front of everyone, who was dead silent. No laughs emerged from a single person.

“So, you know. Try to show a little respect.”

“Okay,” the kid said, nodding. Alan nodded in response, and turned to walk away.

The child’s mother ran forward to him, while Ellie followed after Alan, shaking her head in bemusement.

“If you wanted to scare the kid you could have pulled a gun on him, you know,” Ellie snorted.

“Yeah, I know,” Alan sighed, “Kids. You want to have one of those?”

Ellie laughed, gesturing behind her, “I don’t want that kid, but, a breed of child, Alan, could be intriguing.”

“Ha!”

“I mean, what’s so wrong with kids?”

“Look, they get in the way. I mean, I never thought I’d date anyone, before I met you,” Alan said, “It never interested me.”

“You just wanted to find the bones,” Ellie laughed, shaking her head.

“I just wanted to find the bones! But one person is enough for me. More, and this time I’m responsible for their well-being? For what kind of person they turn into? Nah.”

“You didn’t think you’d like dating me, and you did!” Ellie countered, jabbing him lightly in the arm.

“Cause you’re the only person who understands me,” Alan scoffed, “Besides. You don’t smell.”

“What? Kids don’t smell, either!”

“Some of them smell!” Alan insisted, “Babies smell!”

The whirring of a helicopter cut off their conversation, and both immediately ran down to the site to cover up the new find, shouting for tarps to drape over the rocks and exposed bones. Alan sprinted to the helicopter, while Ellie ran down to the site, covering it quickly with the help of the volunteers and students.

“Get it down – yes – secure the corner – don’t let it be exposed! Even this amount of wind from the helicopter could erode away important information! Yes, get that side down, too!” Ellie barked at everyone, directing people to properly place down the tarp. Satisfied the specimen was secure, she quickly ran towards the trailer, where she had just seen Alan disappear into.

“Alright!” Ellie shouted, opening up the door, “Who’s the jerk?”

“Uh, this is our, paleobotanist, Doctor –“

“Sattler,” Ellie filled in, frowning. In the room was an older man, with a white beard and glasses, wearing a beige hat. Ellie didn’t have a moment to ask before Alan continued,

“Ellie, this is Mr. Hammond.”

Ellie felt her mouth drop open in shock.

“I’m sorry about the dramatic entrance, Dr. Sattler, but...”

“Did I say ‘jerk’?” Ellie laughed, grimacing.

“We’re in a wee bit of a hurry, here. Will you have a drink? We don’t want to let it warm, come along, sit down, sit down.”

It was weird, how he managed to make the space his own, just by virtue of having paid for it, even though it was Ellie’s and Alan’s. Ellie tried to take control, reaching for glasses in the sink, as he protested. Before she knew it, she was sitting at a table.

“Now, I’ll wait a minute, because I have a surprise for you!” Hammond laughed. Conveniently, the door opened at that moment, and a tall dark skinned woman entered the room, her hair done in dreads, a grin spreading across her face.

“Guess who’s baaack!” the woman sang, beaming at Alan and Ellie.

“Miri!” Ellie shouted.

“Miri!” Alan said in unison. Miri laughed and ran to hug Ellie, shaking Alan’s hand eagerly afterwards.

“Mr. Hammond picked me up on the way over here, I’ve been a consultant on his project for the past year down at my dig – I have so much to tell you, when was the last time we saw each other?” Miri said rapidly, laughing at the shocked looks on Ellie and Alan’s faces.

“Last SVP, I think!” Ellie responded, “Oh it’s so good to see you! Are they treating you well down in Florida?”

“As well as can be expected for Florida!” Miri laughed, “But we just found a new Titanis skeleton, and since Pierce passed I’m in charge of the dig site!”

“I was so sorry to have heard of his passing, Miri,” Alan said, “You’re more than capable to take over for him, but so soon after you graduated from here –“

“The man lived in a hoarder house, Alan,” Miri snorted, “A literal hoarder house. Besides that, I was brought on the team because he knew he needed a good replacement. Regardless, I’m here now.”

“And good thing, too!” Dr. Hammond laughed, “Your former mentor would never have been able to come alone on our little trip, Dr. Spinoza!”

“About that, as I was saying in the helicopter, you’re never going to get Alan to –“

“Never going to get Alan to what?” Alan asked, affronted. Ellie snorted, making him glare at her for a moment.

“I’ll get right to the point!” Hammond chortled, clearly delighted by the proceedings, “I like you. Both of you. I can tell instantly about people, it’s a gift. Could tell I liked you, could tell I liked Miri. Now,” Hammond took a deep breath, beaming, “I own an island. Off the coast of Costa Rica. I’ve leased it from the government and spent the last five years setting up a kind of biological preserve. You remember the consultancy you did for me at the time?”

“Yes, but after a point you said we were no longer needed for that?” Alan asked in confusion.

“Which is when he reached out to me,” Miri said, nodding.

“Well, the island is really spectacular. Spared no expense. Make the one I‘ve got down in Kenya look like a petting zoo. And there’s no doubt, our attractions will drive kids out of their minds.”

“And what are those?” Alan asked sarcastically. Miri snorted.

“Small versions of adults, honey,” Ellie laughed.

“And not just kids, everyone! We’re going to open next year, that is if the lawyers don’t kill me first. I don’t care for lawyers, do you...?”

“Oh we... uh...” Ellie began.

“Don’t really know any,” Alan and Miri finished with him in unison.

“Well I do, I’m afraid. There’s a particular pebble in my shoe who represents my investors. Says they insist on ‘outside opinions.’”

“What kind of opinions?” Ellie asked.

“Well, your kind, Dr. Sattler and Dr. Grant, not to put too fine a point on it. And Dr. Spinoza’s too. I mean, let’s face it – in your particular fields, you’re the top minds! And if I could just persuade you to sign off on the park, you know give it your endorsement, maybe even pen a wee testimonial, I could get back on schedule!”

“Is the work I’ve been doing for you not enough of a testimonial?” Miri laughed.

“Well, they want you to see the place, get a feel for it, as it were. They want an expert’s eyes on the whole proceedings.”

“But why would they care what we think?” Dr. Sattler asked.

“With your expertise from paleobotany and paleoecology, Dr. Spinoza’s in behavior, and Alan’s in anatomy, you have the best handle on what sort of problems we may deal with in the park –“

“What kind of park is this?” Alan asked, frowning in confusion.

“It’s right up your alley,” Hammond laughed, handing the three of them drinks.

“Please come down, you two, with Dr. Spinoza and I, for the weekend. I’d love to have both of your opinions on the project. We have a jet standing by at Choteau,” Hammond pleaded.

“I basically had no choice, since he’s sponsoring the dig,” Miri sighed.

“Well, look, we just dug up a new skeleton –“ Alan began.

“And I will compensate you, as well, by fully funding your dig...”

“This is a very unusual time,” Alan continued.

“For a further three years,” Hammond finished.

“Well.. uh...” Ellie stammered, “Where’s the plane?”

“Yeah, okay, okay!” Alan shouted, clinking his glass with Hammond and turning around to Ellie in excitement. Both shouted happily and hugged each other, spinning around the room.

“Three more years!”

“We can get the entire raptor nesting site!”

“Three more years!”

Hammond chortled happily, as the pair reached to grab bags from under the table and pack them.

Soon, they would be off to Costa Rica.

[poorlittleyaoyao]

i think qinyao's dynamic is superbly underrated. that horror of a marriage. she loves him, and she doesn't know why he won't touch her. he loves her, but not in the way he once did, and the very thought of touching her makes him feel ill. after rusong dies, he's so relieved that she doesn't want to have another child, and feels horrible for it. if she hadn't married him, she would have been happy, he thinks. she would've never had to grieve like this. in public they are perfectly normal, the picture of a happy marriage, and only the two of them know the truth. and i don't think they ever talk about the cracks in their marriage, up until it's FAR too late. I Am Sick over them.

ahhhhhHHHHHHHHH

Their whole Situation is THE MOST DISTRESSING because it should have been so good! It probably still could have been if neither of them had known! Maybe it would even have been workable if someone had told QS sooner so she and JGY could navigate it all together. But no! Instead we get JGY keeping everything under wraps and continuing on as though This Is A Perfect Marriage And Everything Is Fine when it's not.

And the way in which it's not fine is fascinating, too. "Well-to-do couple's perfect-on-paper marriage is dysfunctional AF " is a common trope in US and UK fiction, but the dysfunction is usually this destructive, vicious thing. One or both of them is abusive, one or both of them is cheating, one or both of them is addicted to something to cope, one or both of them blames the other for all of these problems, one or both of them never loved the other at all. But JGY and QS aren't serving Don and Betty Draper vibes here. They care for each other! They treat each other with kindness! Even when she's sick with disgust and fury, QS confirms that JGY treated her well.

Which makes it more excruciating, honestly, because technically, Nothing Is Wrong. If they didn't love each other, it would be easy to exist apart. Yes, his wife's presence fills him with dread that won't abate, but to break the engagement would ruin her reputation, and none of this is her fault, and he's seen and dealt with worse, and he loves her, so he'll carry on. Yes, her husband abruptly withdrew all physical intimacy, but it's better than a husband who demands sex she doesn't want, and he's faithful to her, and he's so attentive otherwise, and she loves him, so she'll make the best of it. They're both trying so hard, and the situation is too messed up for it to be enough but not messed up enough for them to give up.

[k-s-morgan]

How are you? I am sending love and hugs your way. xx

Hello again! Thank you for your support <3 I hope you don't mind me using your ask to make my monthly post!

June, especially its second half, was easier for me than the nightmarish May and the devastating end of April. The number of Russian terrorist attacks on my city decreased, and I finally managed to recover a little, though some nights were still horrifying, and some people died despite Kyiv having a great air-defense system. But the horrors continued for Ukraine as a whole. Russia exploded the dam, flooding a vast territory, causing an ecocide and harming & killing so many living beings that it's impossible to count them all.

One night in June, Russian missiles hit a residential building in a Kriviy Rig city. 11 people died, which is a miracle, considering the damage. Many pets died as well.

That's one example of many of such attacks. Kramatorsk tragedy, which happened just several days ago - more civilians dead, including children. Kherson, which keeps being tortured daily on such a constant basis that barely anyone pays attention to it, even though people keep dying. Dnipro, Kharkiv - people die every day. Russia delights in causing pain and taking lives- literally, it's all over their official channels and social media. They are a caricature-like villain to the point where I wouldn't believe it if I wasn't witnessing it myself.

But, as always, everything isn't bad. Ukraine made some progress on the battlefield; I got to post my chapter and now I've left for my vacation. Initially, I wanted to go to Poland, but I had to change my plans because of my beautiful pigeon, who was sick at the time. She passed away since then, and I couldn't change my plans again. I'm very happy with my choice, though! I'm still in Ukraine, but I'm surrounded by nature. It's so lovely. Also, to my surprise, I got into a Batman/Joker ship, so now I'm exploring a new fandom :D It's always a delight.

I want to thank all of you for sticking around still! Thank you to my wonderful readers who leave reviews, kudos, asks and likes: I treasure your feedback and it makes me so happy. Thank you to all those who worry about me, who message me, and who support me on Patreon. Actually, the Patreon money is what helped me get through the horrible May and still go on my vacation. I felt so exhausted and drained from nightly bombings that it damaged my workability, and I earned less than usual. I honestly can't explain how much your support and help means, what it did to me. It helped me hold on and keep my sanity intact.

Here's the beautiful sight I observed yesterday: two rainbows appearing at once after the rain. I know people see this stuff across the world, but it felt like a good sign.

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

The great regular sleep experiment of 2024 day uh... "too much tea"

Well it turns out that while caffeine helps me sleep fine for my morning slot... Drinking a lot of fluids doesn't...

Other than being up to pee a whole lot, I slept well enough, ended up staying in bed till closer to 3 on account of the getting up to pee a bunch. Lesson learned. That could have gone way worse.

I *think* these sleep shifts are as good as it's going to get. One is even right after morning errands where I get in, put stuff away and want nothing more than to shower and fall into bed.

Also Pumpkin will let me sleep for 4 hours at a time, if it's at times he's used to me doing it and if it doesn't go on much longer than that... Because babies [cats] need to be fed every 4 hours :/ [this one does]

Right now I'm still a bit hyper-thyroid though, and it just got warm out, and I think my immune system is 'activating' against something again, so I have been trying to push myself to do chores if I am going to be awake and feel physically horrible anyway.

I did that thing where after scrubbing the floor yesterday and letting it dry, I swept it again today in greater detail and washed it again. Ooooh aaaah clean floors. Cleaned the toilet, washed dishes, did some sink laundry.

AND I FOUND MY 'O' KEY!!! I have a full keyboard again!

The main thing is I am trying to keep all the cleaning and organizing 1. Quiet and 2. done at a pace I could maintain on most days, because if I get a bee in my bonnet about it and wear myself down, i might get a huge chunk done... I might even get the 'rest' as done as it can be, but then I will crash and have to recover, which might mean falling behind on everything again and breaking any fragile habits, and I don't want to do that...

The only issue I see with this sleep schedule is it tends to take me 4 ish hours to wake up after sleeping and a bit to wind down... So the 5 hours between my sleeps works fine on days where I can spend that 5 hours doing nothing much, but on days where I need to do stuff --that isn't groceries before morning bedtime and crashing-- it means 8 hours spent sleeping, plus the five in between that I can't use, plus another 3 minimum to get running, plus whatever hours I sleep past 2pm because i need extra sleep, and then having those remaining hours be in the middle of the night.

The only other way to approach it is by waking up and immediately throwing myself into doing things before I am awake enough to process anything, like how much it hurts... And that can be okay for basic cleaning, but I am so out-of-it when I first wake up that doing anything with anything heavy or sharp or powered becomes actively dangerous. ... Which is why it usually takes me 4 ish hours to get running because otherwise I am not alert... and that leaves... maybe 7 hours. Mostly being at night will add to my ability to being alert, and those hours would be great for working on art or writing and quiet creative projects, but it's not workable for any kind of tool use, or any heavy cleaning or organizing. [If I had my own house it would be fine]

And the problem is that if I am left with no times of day that are convenient to do a thing... I end up unconsciously avoiding it without realizing what's getting in my way. I KNOW I do that, so I am trying to set myself up for success instead of failure.

My remaining hope is that as I get used to this schedule, if I can keep it without the *symptoms*... I'll start to get alert or sleepy faster when it's appropriate and struggle less to do things during the 5 hours between sleeps.

On the bright side at least I am *mostly* only fighting my own body for this, but not having roommates to also have to work around... Just apartment neighbours.

If I can just get really used to a half-awake 5 hours of misery on any morning I have to get shit done, it'll be mostly fine, probably??

[mamamittens]

As a distraction to Sad Thoughts™, yesterday I drew a concept design for Little Helper.

For context it's a shiny Chandelure for a pokemon story I'm crafting as a pick me up. Just scroll on if you aren't interested in me rambling about that and world building lol

Light and dark background for clarity. They're supposed to look like they have little fangs both above and below the lip... Thingy, but it didn't translate well in the end I suppose.

I like the overall design even though I'm not the biggest fan of shiny chandlure's color scheme. Went for 'expensive chandelier your grandmother paid a professional to clean instead of getting a Swiffer'. Don't get me wrong, I see what they were going for, but I think it could have been a bit more interesting. Like silver metal as well as the flame and body color? Idk, it IS better than Lucario's shiny though.

Why the hell they chose yellow I'll never understand. I'll die a hater for that one.

Anyway! I figured it would make sense that a professional breeder, breeding their own pokemon to assist in their business, would go out of their way to 'create' a stunning specimen. A sort of flex. And I liked the idea of stained glass. Might redraw this to lean more into that and maybe play with the colors more. But I wanted a basic design first, which I did! Hopefully it's cohesive before I start playing with the colors lol

Since I don't have such plebian concerns like budget or complicated pixel designs to translate into workable 3D art or whatever, I can just... Make it a Thing™ that Pokemon actually have some damn variety. I mean, we get that every so often in the anime, but it's a notable exception to the norm. And I get why, don't come at me, I promise I'm not bullying the 90s anime for not handcrafting hundreds of subtly unique designs for every instance of a species we ever see.

The point is that I don't have that problem. So if I want minccino to have different fur colors aside from Normal and Shiny, I can do that. Easily. Same with everything else. I doubt I'll go so deep into the weeds it's stuff like, this is a mixed breed Squirtle with lovedisc or magikarp in there. They'll generally still follow Pokemon logic of favoring a specific parent with maybe moves or abilities passed down if they're different species. Common, out in the wild Pokemon will look pretty typical usually. But once you get into domesticated Pokemon, they tend to look notably different. You can always tell if a pokemon was wild caught instead of carefully bred.

Just different color or fur/scale/claw shape. Minor adjustments depending on how bred they are for traits. IV bred pokemon will likely have unique traits that make it easy to spot deliberate breeding. Even if it's not that big of a difference. Like Sneasel having tufted ear... Feather things instead of a smooth leaf shape. Or spots in their fur. Stuff like that.

It seems like a fun detail.

Also decided where Edna, the main OC is from as well as some little details like being really used to having Pokemon groom her from a young age. Her parents have minccinos that are pair bonded and groomed her every morning. So Yolky, and eventually the rest of her team, tend to play with her hair.

Gets a little dangerous with Toxitricity, Danny (short for Cadenza), cause he puts down poison in her hair but she gets a bit immune after a while as well as the rest of the team lol. It was either poison braids or static frizz everywhere. Gotta compromise somehow!

It'll be fun to play around with established designs for a more unique look!

[magicalgirlartist]

[ID: 5 photos of a paper doll in different outfits. She is a young woman with medium brown skin, long pink hair in half-pigtails, and big green eyes, smiling and holding one hand delicately towards her face. Her outfits are, in order: light pink bra, underwear, and no-show socks; red lolita jsk over light pink long sleeved shirt, white tights, green boots; pink suspender shorts over a mint green t shirt, white and green wrist cuffs, white knee socks with pink lace detail on the sides, pink and white sneakers; the same lolita jsk outfit but with red Mary Jane shoes and pink ankle socks; calf length dusty pink dress with green boots and white gloves with strawberry detail. End ID.]

Paper doll prototype 2!! Featuring the return of one of my fruity little elf designs.

For this one I thought about how this would work on magnet paper if it just stuck on like that instead of using the tabs. I made a lot of fiddly little accessories that lost all detail and were basically meaningless when put on the actual doll. Some things like earrings and hair accessories might just have to be drawn straight onto the base instead of being customizable, which is a shame.

I'm not married to the magnet paper yet, and will go back to the paper tabs on the next prototype. Still trying to figure out the long hair problem. I don't want to make wigs. Maybe if I cut between her hair and shoulders and don't make it waist length lol.

Some of the colours need to be fixed, too. The dress is supposed to be patterned with strawberries, but they blend together. It's easier to see in the digital file than the finished print. I'm not sure if it's because I saved it as a png instead of a jpeg like I usually do with printable files. Might also be my printer acting up as it has been. This is what prototypes are for, though!

The thicker outlines helped a lot, though I'd still love to use a Cricut or something instead. There are some logistical issues there, though. The only one I have access to is at the local public library, and only on certain days. Plus, the workable size on cricut print then cut pages is much smaller than if I just cut them out myself. Less of a concern with sticker sheets or cardstock, but a major waste of expensive magnet paper if that's what I choose to use. I might try bringing one in for a future prototype, but for now will stick to cutting everything out by hand as usual.

My goal is to have sellable dolls by the time I start attending cons again (hopefully March, possibly not until April).

[windypuddle]

Ensemble Stars!! > Bungou Stray Dogs, Part 4

This one’s unfortunately also a bit of a doozy to explain, even though it’s smaller. beware of lore.

(A continuation of my Enstars as BSD AU, see other parts below) 

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 5]

once again... so sorry about the formatting. this was going to be very different, as you might guess from the arrangement of character roles. i ended up not having enough characters that fit (and then realized i had extra characters in the agency and guild, but oh well)

look i don’t even want to deal with bram and all that nonsense. with regards to AUs, i usually give up around the current arc. this has to do with how i remake the narrative slightly based on the new characters and dynamics, and i can’t do that if i dont know where the actual canon narrative is going. that being said, the decay of angels are involved in a few arcs that have already wrapped up, so thats all good and fine and workable.

Eichi is an idealist. we all know this from enstars canon. everyone knows this. its the whole reason there’s a plot. it’s just that here he takes the idealism to the level of terrorism. he seeks the book out of a desire for equality, or at least that’s what he tells everyone; in fact it is a desperate and selfish quest to cheat death by rewriting his own fate. he hates his own ability and he hates this cruel world and he hates his illness and this is his way of fixing all of the above.

bonus: he has proper cello posture (i’ve seen some of y’all complain about fyodor)

Wataru is so important too. listen to me. listen closely. this whole au started because i was reading the tempest night story and could not stop making connections between wataei and fyolai. so there you have it. that’s why this AU exists. gay people. Wataru is extremely dedicated to both Eichi and his own constant performance. it is a cage of his own making.

the eccentrics had kind of an informal alliance, about 10 years before canon (to clarify: we’re going with closer to bsd ages ranges here, which means Wataru Shu and Kanata are all around 26 at the time of the main events) but what with the war, they drifted apart. the others view Wataru joining Eichi’s cause as a little bit of a betrayal.

Yuzuru... yeah he’s kind of just there. the decay of angels (a) plays up the angel motif already associated with fine and (b) is generally looking to rearrange the current social structure. Yuzuru is hoping this goal will Fix Everything and get Tori to leave the mafia. (tori is having fun lol)

Tatsumi, as a good Christian boy, is easily radicalized. He spread (admittedly hypocritical) anti-Ability teachings in Europe for a period of time, citing the war as evidence that Abilities cause ruin. He collected a decent following, who mobilized, cultlike, to go after Ability users. they captured Kaname at a certain point in time, and the mafia rescued him, which got him involved and indebted to the mafia. to try and repay this, Kaname went after the cult himself, and was killed. this made Tatsumi reevaluate his goals and join the guild. After his colleagues in the Guild were injured in the conflict, Eichi recruited him for the Decay of Angels with the promise of being rid of all his past crimes and helping

Tsumugi is the one who enables this, as his ability is the Perfect Crime: the one that erases all evidence. goddammit Eichi stop collecting people who are unhealthily devoted to you. eventual redemption arc with the mystery trio but its switch.

[ultimateaclrecovery]

This has just been such a bummer of a Christmas.

The actual day was rather awful with all the terrible travel stuff, but while that was happening I just kept repeating that Christmas was just a day and that my family would just do Christmas later when we were all together. But now we’ve had our Christmas and it was just such a let down.

Everything was still so off schedule wise and nothing was like it usually it is. My dad broke his hip and we’d thought he might be out of the rehab center by now or at least able to come home for Christmas afternoon. But he wasn’t able too. So we did his gifts yesterday at the rehab center which was super strange and kind of sad.

And then today was supposed to be our Christmas but we ended up with the weirdest schedule. Normally we do gifts first Christmas morning/afternoon because most of my family gets up late. But my brother got up soooo late that we decided to visit my dad first so it wouldn’t get too late. And while it was a lovely visit it was not Christmasy. And then y brother wasn’t feeling well so even when we got back we didn’t go gifts right away and had to start on dinner. And then things were in the oven while we were opening gifts so there were timers to check on things and it made me feel so rushed and like we couldn’t really sit and savor the opening like we usually do.

And then (like a brat) I was disappointed in some of the gifts I got and it was things I asked for. But I hadn’t fully realized that I was that particular about the items so even though I got what I asked for it wasn’t what I really wanted. I like some of them, but I’m just not really very excited about anything I got. Which makes me feel both sad and like an ungrateful brat because they were literally things I asked for!!

And then I also feel like I didn’t do a very good job getting gifts for others either. Like they were fine but nothing special or exciting so I feel the leg down in that direction of gift giving too.

And there’s just so much stress with my dad not being home. Between the Parkinson’s and the broken hip and being there, he just isn’t doing super well and it’s so sad. And my moms been going to visit him twice a day and trying to manage everything. And my dads been in pain and just having a not very good time at the facility.

And it’s sad and stressful to watch but I feel like I don’t know how to help or make anything better and just feel kind of overwhelmed even though I haven’t been doing anything.

And we didn’t make our Christmas cookies.

I’ve always always been home before Christmas and me and my mom make these elaborate frosted sugar cookies. And we haven’t this year.

So much of the fun of Christmas is the build up and we had none of that this year

And it’s like things could be so much worse, and like they are still fine so I feel bad whining. But they are usually so much better. Christmas is usually the best of time of the year and a wonderful time, and this year it was just a struggle and that make me sad.

And I’m feeling a lot of let down from my time in LA. I did partly because I was feeling bored and stuck in a rut but now I’m going right back to wear I was. And I guess you know the grass isn’t always greener and all that but it’s weird sense of settling. Like you go on a big adventure and at the end everything is still the same. Or at least nothing really seems better so you can’t help but wonder is maybe you shouldn’t have gone at all. Been better if just staying in Colorado.

Certainly would’ve been able to come earlier for Christmas and maybe done better with the presents if I wasn’t dealing with moving at the same time.

Overall it’s just been such a workable Christmas instead of enjoyable one. And while everyone did what they could to make it work it still feels disappointing

[babybluesquid]

3 and 7!

3. Dealing With Trauma Unhealthily Award It is immensely difficult to pick between Dagne, Nux, and Vaeren for this one. So allow me to make my case for each.

Dagne is a mess and remains such throughout the entire campaign. They start off with a heavy dose of trauma due to the amnesia, being undead, the Last War, and their father figure Iura Josan dying in The Mourning, which they handled by drinking and trying to maintain control over everything, expecially their sense of self and purpose. The way Dagne saw it, they were a martyr of the Blood of Vol with no soul, only existing to protect the living, to their own detriment if necessary. When their control over the situation broke down and the stakes got scary, as is typical in a D&D game, they tried to break up the party over it. Also they're a liar and a rude asshole who doesn't trust anybody, very unpleasant to talk to and deal with, expecially for the NPCs. When they found out they had been intentionally killed and made undead to be a prophecy token, Dagne became incredibly despondent and lost sight of their reason for existing for a while.

Nux was forcibly entered into a warlock pact with Kyrzin and then their Whisperer cult tried to sacrifice them in a ritual. So they have a complex of guilt over not doing their duty (dying) and for the people they unintentionally killed during their escape. They were constantly dogged by the cult, who still want to complete the ritual, and demons from the Killing Cold, which wished to create a new pact with them. Nux lashed out a lot verbally and physically, especially early on in the campaign, and tried to cut a mark of Kyrzin off their own arm. Nux particularly had a strained relationship with Dagne, due to their distrust of authority. Nux saw Dagne trying to impose their will over the party as cruel and unreasonable, sometimes rightfully so.

Vaeren is the youngest child of an Aereni family where everyone becomes Deathguard, and as such had extremely high expectations to live up to. When they broke the rules and entered a dangerous part of the woods adjacent to a Mabaran manifest zone, they were blinded by a dark creature which they barely defeated in battle. Rather than having their vision healed, they were left in this state as punishment and given a spirit idol, the spirits within would act as their eyes. This made them very dependent on the Deathguard, and they had difficulties with making decisions and asserting their own opinions. They usually spoke in terms of "we" instead of "I."

The three of them all improved over the course of the campaign. None of them got all the way better, and Dagne especially got worse before getting better. I cannot decide who wins the award they're all so messed up in different ways.

7. Who wins Outstanding Plot Fucker Upper? Dagne, 100%.

There are numerous times where Dagne really fucked up, but the worst one has gotta be near the end of the campaign. They were sent to retrieve a coautl weapon from the Age of Demons, Garthir, in order to kill Mordakesh the Shadow Sword with it. However, on the way, Mordakesh killed Nux using a demon weapon, also from the Age of Demons, Saraskha. Saraskha trapped Nux's soul in it. Once Dagne had Garthir and learned that Nux could not be revived because their soul was not in Dolurrh, they were approached by a rakshasa lieutenant of Mordakesh that they knew as Valtis Redeyes. He offered a simple trade, Saraskha, with Nux's soul in it, for Garthir.

Dagne took the trade. They were able to use Sarsakha to revivify Nux. Unknown to them, the demon weapon was already corrupting their mind, thinking in their thoughts. Dagne became convinced that Saraskha was a workable substitute for Garthir, and that they could use the soul storing properties of the weapon to kill their enemies without actually killing them. It appealed to their oath to protect the living and their need to not kill anyone. Nux, horrified by Dagne's plan, got the weapon away from them and the rest of the party helped them convince Dagne that using Saraskha was a very very bad idea.

[onewomancitadel]

I need a palate cleanser.

From a more positive position, I think putting forth a thesis for why sex and eroticism in fiction can be meaningful - not as a refutation to sexual violence, but purely on its own terms - is actually worthwhile. Because there should be a positive model to the acceptable depiction of 'sex' as rape, and that informing the archetypal dynamics of sexuality in storytelling. It's not like the model should be rape or nothing, objectification or nothing. People think you're trying to take away the only expression of their sexuality that they've got in this sort of topic, and I find it very weird, particularly in feminist spaces and the proshipping debate.

Again, my stance on proshipping/anti shit is that it's schoolyard bullying and moral nuance goes there to die. But on the other hand in my experience it's not like either side really tends to value positive expression of sexuality - it's only about exploring the most taboo (rape) and the other side trying to spin everything as rape because all sex and explicit content is bad. It's fucking bananas. I get that proshippers have their reasons for writing the really dark stuff but when it's done for barren textual purposes I just don't see the justification. Sure, I am not disputing AO3's policy, I just wonder whether it is always artistically defensible. Because that's basically my metric.

But I'm more interested in what eroticism offers storytelling. I think that there is plenty of dark stuff that has genuinely justified ideas - and I think that exploring violence and darker dynamics is not in itself unjustified and is in fact found uncritically in a lot of published literature - but the usual refutation is that I'm trying to police peoples' creative expression, especially in fannish spaces where don't like, don't read. But if I'm trying to find a personally valuable model for sexuality in storytelling, and I'm trying to identify my discomfort, and I'm trying to identify why I'm okay with some of it (I read a Gothic horror romance done very well once in fanficland) and some of it I'm not, then I actually want to consider how it lines up with my own personal conception of what sex (and darker themes related to that, even) achieves in storytelling. Clearly there is something workable here which doesn't play into anti schoolyard bullshit that isn't also thought-terminating 'but I enjoy it' type annoying refrain - which if I categorically reject as cultural criticism and as something which defends, say, the unrealistic, fetishistic depiction of rape, I don't see how I can entertain it in fanfic.

I don't have a personal issue with proshippers the way I do antis, and as I've said I nominally agree with that position. But I don't think it should be a conversation-ender.

As I gestured at, though, it's interesting that even the proshipping debate largely revolves around the taboo - rape, incest, so on and so forth - and not the expression of positive sexuality itself. I feel alienated in that sense, I suppose, but I also think from a position of argumentation - the antis are swift to decry sexuality, so why is it that we conceive of sexuality in proshipping circles as interchangeable with sexual violence?

[tothedarkdarkseas]

11-12?

11. Do either try to hide their emotions if upset? Can the other still tell?

I know a lot of my answers have the general air of "Yes and no," but I think Stu and Murdoc really are an interesting study in being a closed and open book at once. I don't think they pull many punches with the other, and I don't think either strive to give an impression of stoicism; Stu wears his heart on his sleeve and often in the worst way, increasingly allowing his ugliness to show itself with Murdoc and fostering unexplored ugliness that Murdoc mirrors and encourages, until Murdoc becomes a receptacle for that ugliness in a certain way. Murdoc for his part has no shame and no filter, his crudeness and prodding tolerated as harmless, but when pushed past a line-- and it can be difficult to tell where that line is-- his instinct for animal damage and a surgical gift for cruelty come to the forefront. Again, hard to call either a closed book. At the same time, there's also obviously a lot that goes unsaid between them, and not always because it "goes without"; they are nowhere near a healthy enough couple to believe that, because they're not healthy enough to believe themselves a couple at all. There are decades behind them and canyons between them, neither made better by the avoidance.

All of that being said, I think they do more hiding when facing away from each other. They hide the least of themselves together, and that isn't always to their benefit. They may say everything but what they mean, but I don't think it's ever truly absent from the fight. For better or worse, they know each other, and they know that cuts both ways.

12. Do they have many heated arguments? How do they smooth things over?

It's nice that they included at least one believable Studoc hobby on the list! Yes, absolutely. Arguments comprise a good 60-75% of their conversations, and they can't all be petty, can't all be results of repression or denial, can't all be a joke to one party (guess which.) Some genuinely have no resolution; they are left with the things they've done, and the people they are. But I suppose this isn't supposed to be about fighting itself, rather, the aftermath.

It depends on the subject of the argument, but I am obligated to give the crude answer: there is a very direct connection between fighting and sex for these two, whether or not that solves the issue or just creates another. It's a workable distraction for a time. If Murdoc's the one less irate at Stu, as would usually be the case, he may eventually back off of his needling once he's gotten the responses he wanted and switch to a more flattering sort of banter. He'll always say he's just taking the piss regardless, but if Stu doesn't flat-out refuse to play and fuck off, it is possible to pivot into something less dire; he's still insulting Murdoc, but the hard edges have worn off. A sharing of substances can never hurt (except when it does.)

For the most part, if things are truly heated, the two just need time to swim to their own sides of the fishbowl. It may take hours, a day, the better part of a week. They'll inevitably circle back.

[henrysglock]

what is your favorite chapter of paper faces so far?

Oh God. This is like making a mother choose between her children. I have to say either Chapter 2, Chapters 3 and 5 as a matching set, or Chapter 10.

I love Chapter 2 for its horror aspect. I loved inventing Eddie's story regarding the Opera Ghost, and I loved setting the tone of Will and Henry's relationship. Gut feelings are usually right, and all that. Also, this line: "You are a child, and children are easy prey for monstrous men." Just fucking gets me every time. Like it's so true, but it's coming from Henry, which makes it absolutely horrid in how manipulative it is.

I love Chapters 3+5 as a pair because they introduce the concept that Will's Got Issues, Henry's Got Issues, and holy shit was that a match made in hell or what? Together, these two chapters underpin the rest of Will's interactions with Henry. They tell us why Will acts the way he does and why Henry acts the way he does without actually telling any of the other characters (Will and Henry included) those reasons. Chapter 3 outlines the issues Will has regarding Lonnie and his lack of support/love, while also giving us backstory on Henry that lays the groundwork for his later predatory behavior. Chapter 5 shows us that Will is susceptible to manipulation because of those issues with Lonnie, while also following through on Henry's villain status. They're very much connected, and I couldn't choose one without the other because of that. They're favorites because they give us a lot of seemingly extraneous details that actually come back later on in the story.

Chapter 10 is a favorite because...well. I don't know if you've seen the movie The Perfect Storm? But Chapter 10 is the equivalent of the scene when the ship emerges from one wall of the hurricane into the calm seas in the eye of the storm. The crew celebrates the respite, but they still have an entire wall left to survive. They don't know it yet, but the second wall is far more dangerous than the first. THAT is where the story is at. Will's running away with Mike, everything at the Academy has crashed and burned, things can't possibly get worse, right? Things can only go up from here? Sure, hon. Keep telling yourself that. But honestly I love it because it's the Big Romantic Byler Chapter while also being the Big Henry Villain Arc chapter. The whiplash of having angst, horror, and romance in one chapter is so so so fun for me. Being able to have Will be prickly about Henry while still wanting to earn his praise/love, having Will realize that Holy Shit, I've Been Had, and having Will tell everything to Mike only for Mike to take it all in stride and come up with a workable solution? Chef's kiss.

My true favorite, though? Hasn't been written yet. I know already that the finale is going to be my favorite, because it's my favorite part of POTO. Granted, this story is going to be worked out differently than POTO, given that everything here is non-romantic in regard to Will and Henry, but it's still going to be an absolute ass-kicker to write and I can't wait to get there.

Thank you so much for the ask!! <3