#it’s a lot but I am enjoying this change of metaphoric scenery

[bromelianana]

I need two more for an even 18! Reply here with a reference pic if you so wish. 👀

[stardust-kenobi]

Stay

Din Djarin x reader

Summary: You had been traveling with the Mandalorian for weeks now. He’d saved your life, inevitably creating a stronger bond between the two of you. One evening, Din opens up to you.

Warnings: just fluff (“no smut?” yes! I am just as surprised as you are), Din being starved of affection

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: In this fic, the child is not with him (don’t kill me). this has not been proofread yet, might be some grammatical errors.

I have requests sitting in my inbox and I’m so sorry for pushing them to the side right now but I got hella inspired to write for mando and could not wait. I’ll get to them soon I promise 💕

gif is not mine

He saved you.

Three weeks ago, he broke his metaphorical tough exterior shell and saved you from an impeding doom.

He didn’t have to, in fact it was probably easier for him to leave you there, but he placed himself in that same danger to rescue you.

You were standing there, suddenly surrounded by troopers, some with artillery questionably beyond his defense capabilities. Mando had escaped, he was fleeing successfully, but he returned when he realized you weren’t with him anymore. 

Never had you seen a human being destroy so many armed enemies so swiftly in the realization that he may lose you without even a single scratch upon your skin. Prior to this occurrence, you didn’t believe he cared about you at all. You were just temporarily valuable to him.

You joined him on his adventures after meeting him in the cantina on Sorgan, with the promise to present him with information on a bounty if he provided you shelter from people who wanted to harm you. You told him it was complicated, and you couldn’t go into detail about the situation. He was reluctant, and even told you no initially. You weren’t sure if it was the motive to collect the bounty money or his secretly warm heart that changed his mind, but you were thankful nonetheless.

After your rescue, you gave him the information he sought, he captured his target and gathered his reward, but still, three weeks later, you remain a passenger of the Razor Crest, and he hasn’t insisted that you leave him. 

After it happened, there was a lot of silence between you two. Gradually, though, he spoke to you more. To your surprise, he initiated most of the conversations. He wanted to know about you. Unfortunately, your past created a wall, a barrier, between you and anyone who tried to get too close. You bonded with him slowly, and you were appreciative of his company. Against your strong intentions, you were starting to have romantic feelings for him. Feelings you had tried to ignore for the sake of having your heart inevitably broken in time. Feelings for a man you’d never even truly seen with your own eyes. Somehow, though, the mysterious nature of the Mandalorian was all the more interesting to you.

He was lonely, living in the vast galaxy all alone. No matter someone’s lifestyle, surely that becomes hard after some time. You wonder if his loneliness drove him toward you. He was kind, that much was obvious, but even with his warmth, he seemed to block himself off from you as well. You’d call him a friend, or an acquaintance at the very least. The new feeling of being able to trust him with your life added a thick layer of depth to your friendship.

Tonight, both of you were rested opposite to each other around a crackling fire located in the distant forests of the lusciously green moon of Endor. The air was thin, and a slight breeze sent chills down your exposed arms every now and then. Mando wanted to stop here as peaceful place to rest for the night rather than sleeping on the Crest again. A change of scenery is certainly nice, you thought.

“Its quieter here than I imagined” you break the silence. 

“Wasn’t always quiet here” he mumbles, looking up at the stars beginning to peak into the evening sky.

“That is true...” you agree, remembering the events that took place here only a few short years ago in the days of the Empire.

Mando brewed some tea on the fire. You’d both grown to enjoy the soothing heat of the tea before you went to sleep.

“Do you want some?” he called out to you, pouring a cup for himself in the process.

“Yes, please”

You walked over to him, the fire warming the skin on your arms as you passed it. You attempt to look him in the eyes, only to be met with the reflection of the small flames staring back in the shine of his helmet. You smile softly, still aware that he could see into your eyes.

“Thank you” you nodded to him, accepting the mug from his gloved hands. As you move to return to your seat across the fire, a leather encased hand wrapped around the small of your wrist and pulled lightly toward him.

“Stay, please” he gently pleads. You were surprised, he’d never been so forward before.

“Okay” you responded, turning back toward him.

“I need....someone” he released his hold, spilling his words out uncomfortably.

“I’ll stay here, I don’t mind” you comfort him, noticing in his tone and shifting body language how shy he was becoming. You sat next to him, your knee barely brushing against his.

“Thank you” he spoke quietly, dropping his head.

“Are you okay, Din?” You asked, uttering his name out loud to him for the first time since he’d told you his real name. He looked toward you again, likely warmed and charmed by hearing you address him correctly.

“Yes. I’m okay. I’m just..” he started. It was obvious he was struggling with his words.

“Lonely?” You filled in his sentence for him. He audibly exhaled, indicating that you hit the nail on the head with your assumption.

“I guess you could say that” he mumbled.

“Din, I’m always with you” you consoled him.

“I know. Sometimes I just need more than that” he said sadly. You knew he didn’t mean sexually. You knew he wasn’t implying that he wanted you to give him anything.

“I know what you mean” you admitted.

“You do?” his tone was hopeful.

“Yeah...sometimes you just need the touch of another human being” you said, moving your hips- toward him. You were as close to his body as you could be.

“Sure” he agreed immediately, thankful that you formed the words for him.

“Have you always been alone, Din?” 

“Not always, there were more of my kind that I was close to, years ago” 

You dared not question what happened to those people as you were certain it would upset him.

“I thought, after what I’ve been through, that maybe I wanted to be alone” You began. “But, its growing old and I’m growing lonelier”

“You’ve probably wondered why I’ve let you stay with me this long”

“Everyday, I wonder why...every single day”

“You’ve grown on me, y/n” He said after moments of silence. “I care too much about you now to leave you in danger. I realize that may be overstepping some boundaries” he was gentle in his words. A smile was plastered onto your face. Never had the Mandalorian dug so deep into his feelings for you.

“I care about you, too” you reciprocated the gesture. He snapped his attention to you, certainly not expecting this from you either.

“Its not something I’m used to. Being cared about” he said, looking down to the forest floor again.

Your heart was shattered at the sound of his confession. This gentle giant was deprived of affection and was turning to you for comfort.

“You are just as deserving of love as any other being in this galaxy” you blurted suddenly. You realized the weight of your words, and you worried none for how he’d respond.

He was without words and you expected no response.

“That’s...that’s kind of you, y/n” he says. You could hear the blushing smile he possessed.

You planted your palm on top of his hand that rested upon his knee. You slowly, and hesitantly, leaned your head onto his shoulder. The beskar shoulder plates made it uncomfortable against your skull, but it was the best effort you could make in the moment. His body shifted, noticeably unaware of how to react to you.

“I know we are still getting to know each other, but, I’m here for you” you said.

Din was silent. But after a deep breath, his hand pulled itself away. You were worried you’d made him uncomfortable, but it was quite the contrary. His other gloved hand gripped the tip of the middle finger and pulled the thick covering from his hand. For the first time since you’d met this man, you were seeing his bare skin. Internally, you gasped, but you were inaudible to him in response.

As your palm lay flat on his lower thigh, you watch him lower his newly exposed hand move to lay atop of yours. The warmth collected on the surface of his skin from being encased in the glove immediately transferred heat your frigidly chilled hand.

“You’re so cold” he sweetly states the obvious.

“I’m okay”

“You need to get warm” he says, wrapping his fingers around your hand and squeezing lightly. Your heart fluttered.

“I feel warmer sitting next to you” you reassured him. This was true, as the heat from the fire stored itself in his armor at a quicker rate than that of your skin.

“You can get closer, if you want”

You did just that, and removed what little space remained between you and him. You looked up at him, wishing so badly that you’d be able to kiss him. You knew the impossibility of doing so.

“Your cheeks are red” Din said with concern. He released your hand and slowly raised it to meet your cold cheek. There was not only another transfer of warmth from his skin to yours, there was a spark of electricity that felt so deeply intimate. You leaned your face into his hold, and closed your eyes with the feeling of affection he offered.

You opened your eyes again, to see him intently staring, or so it seemed. You wrapped your hand around his wrist, encouraging him to continue his touch against you.

“I wish I could be even closer to you” you muttered. Speaking partially against his palm. You respected his culture but wanted nothing more than to really feel him.

“Can I trust you?” He spoke at a whisper. Your mind wandered. What could he mean?

“Of course. You’ve saved my life. The least I could be is trustworthy to you”

“Can I kiss you?” He inquired. Your heart began to beat rapidly in eager anticipation.

“How would y-” you began, knowing it wasn’t allowed for you to see his face.. He already knew the end of your sentence.

“Close your eyes, cyar’ika” he said sweetly. You didn’t know what that word meant, but with his tone, you assumed it meant something kind. “As long as you don’t see me, it’s okay”

You did as he asked, nonverbally giving him permission to kiss you. You heard the beskar unlatch and be lifted from his head. You breathed in sharply and slowly released your lung’s capacity.

“Keep them closed” his voice, now not muffled by his helmet, was such a wonderful sound. It graced your ears so raw, and so close to you. You’d always imagined what he sounded like without the thickness of his helmet blocking his mouth, but actually hearing it was breathtaking to you.

His hand returned to your face to cup your cheek. You felt him move closer to you without saying a word.

Suddenly, his lips delicately crashed into yours, and you form your lips into him. Your mouths were fused and still for a few moments, just taking each other in. You were able to finally smell him. He gave off an aroma of cedar that mimicked the scents of the luscious forest trees mixed with a deep masculine scent. You absorbed the presence you could observe of him without the sense of sight.

His lips were surprisingly soft and supple as they pressed into yours. He was gentle, and by the sharp breath he took, it was obvious he had not kissed anyone in a long time. If ever. You were both enthralled in one another’s affection. Neither of you expected this contact when you first sat around the fire. Slowly, you both rotated your lips in sync together, as if you’d both rehearsed it.

After what felt like a lifetime of connection to Din, you both made the decision to pull away. He breathed out in a giggle. The type that you hear when someone is overwhelmed with passion. Your eyes remained closed until he couldn’t put his helmet back in.

As you hear it latch back, you still wait for his confirmation.

“You can open your eyes now”

And he looked the same as he did the last time your eyelids were open. You tried to wipe the uncontrollable smile off of your face, but that effort alone made it more noticeable.

“Thank you for trusting me” you broke the silence. He grabbed your hand again, and lightly squeezed as he did before.

“Y/n” he called to you.

You looked to him.

“I don’t want to be lonely anymore” he said plainly.

“You don’t have to be, Din” you promised him.

“That’s why I never asked you to leave” he started “You make me feel whole...I don’t know how else to say it” he spilled out. It was clear that he was hesitant to say these things and be so forward, but it also seemed to be a relief to him.

“I’d love to stay with you. Wherever you go, I’ll go. I’ll stay until you decide you don’t want me around anymore” you said. You were both speaking at a whisper, despite being alone in the forest.

“That won’t happen” he assured you. “I can’t let you go now”

You smiled ear to ear. Your heart was full in the intimacy of your conversation. You couldn’t wait for the endless travels and adventures that the two of you would have to come.

[creativenicocorner]

I think the main reason I’m sharing this, outside of having very little self control, is because I’m tired of staring at it dlfkgjdlg I’ll get out of this writing slump you’ll see! 

In the meantime stare away haha 

A Terpsichore ch16 sneak peek!  //

Better a lynching now than yesterday, he thought calmly. 

The changeling wasn’t too surprised of his circumstances, his vision might be upside-down, but, in a morbid sort of inevitable way, everything was back to how it should be. 

Human doctors on with their marvelous lives.

Trolls lashing frustrations without much critical thinking skills or thought.

Changelings-

He blacked out. Ever so briefly. 

Distantly Walter Strickler felt as though he were laying on a couch. His head in Barbara’s lap. He realized he was smiling up at her, watching her as she relayed a joke. 

Something funny Anna had mentioned to Barbara over their last coffee date. Strickler tuned in, in time for Barbara to excitedly say, “And then Anna said ‘so we met over a cadaver - it was liver at first sight’!” and started to laugh and laugh and laugh.

It was music to Strickler’s ringing ears. 

At least until he popped back to consciousness with his ears still ringing. The scenery had changed, he was now deeper into Trollmarket. He remembered some of the stalls that Blinky mentioned when he first brought him to the Stronghold.

The fate of being a changeling piñata was all that seemed to await Strickler now. Or so he idly thought as more and more trolls clustered to his honorary pummeling parade - which by now he was feeling rather lackluster about. Sure earlier his heart was pumping to his ears with adrenaline. Feeling like one of those mothers that could lift full cars in order to save their child - which was himself in this scenario - he used to deeply want to save himself. But that go to fight or flight impulse was shot down faster than a migration of mallards during duck season.

It was a surreal experience to watch as more trolls joined the original three. Remarkable how trolls didn’t seem to take much convincing. He contemplated how many of them were truly like minded over their thoughts of his right to exist, or just tagging along out of morbid curiosity. Regardless it was like watching a forrest fire spread. 

Every so often Strickler would try to call out, “Jim! Trollhunter!” but didn’t quite put enough heart in it to be heard over the growing cajoling to the others of Trollmarket to join the growing mob. Using the damage sustained by their previous scuffle in the Stronghold as added reasoning to their march.  

The trolls wondered aloud how best to go about teaching this changeling a lesson. 

Strickler wondered what Nomura would have said to him, at the sight of such a spectacle. And then he remembered she was as good as dead in the Darklands. 

Strickler wondered what Otto would say, imagined his golden toothed smile, the chill in his pale blue eyes, and then remembered his betrayal. That Strickler was as good as dead to Otto. 

Then, oddly, Strickler found himself wondering what Barbara would say, or how she would treat his wounds. 

He found himself imagining they’d be in a quiet space. A living room, either his or hers, he didn’t care. As long as they were together, as long as it was quiet. With a soft breeze blowing through a half opened window. With fresh spring air that wasn’t unbearably full of pollen. The soft sound of gauze being unwrapped. An ever so tender, “Oh Walt.”

But then he remembered she’d never want to see him again, actively looked forward to not remembering him no less. And whatever level of looking after she’d do - would be from civic duty, and a cold ER room. 

The thought was merely a fruitless fantasy. 

His face grazed against a television pile, jostling, scraping him so blood would leak past his hairline. Strickler felt deserving of the sting.

A good thing about no longer being bound to the binding spell was that he didn’t have to worry Barbara feeling what he would feel. He didn’t have to take care of himself as intently. Though he had already thought about that already - didn’t he? Not that he was confident that he was going to walk away from this. His odds were, not something he wanted to think about. 

Soon he wasn’t thinking about anything. He blacked out again. 

While unconscious he was imagining a pond. The idea of which folded before him like a pop up book. The pond was full of floating flowers, primarily forget-me-nots, also known as a scorpion grass. 

In the pond was a scorpion, who had a flower stuck through its stinger, and was on the back of a most beautiful frog. 

“Oh dear.” Went Strickler, “This will end poorly.”

“Must it?” went another voice that was remarkably like his own.

“Of course.” Strickler eyed the stinger. “It is inevitable. Expected even. It’s all in character.”

“That’s a lot of metaphorical pressure to put on a scorpion. It’s only doing its best.”

“But it’ll sting her!” A pause. “The frog I mean.”

“Will it?”

“That’s just how the story goes.” said Strickler, resignation rich in his voice.

“The story isn’t over yet. And besides who says it is the same story?”

“Well isn’t it obvious?”

“No. That’s why I’m asking.” A pause. “What if the story changes? What if just this once, the scorpion didn’t sting the frog?”  

“But it’s in its nature. This won’t change.”

“I thought nature was all about change.”

“Yes, well.” Strickler searched for a way to still feel sorry for himself. He didn’t want to feel assured, be given belief of the option to become better. He wanted to sulk in his misery. “Some things stay fixed. There’s no helping this.”

“Some things adapt.” Another pause, this time it was longer. “Did you know there are poisonous frogs out there far deadlier than a scorpion? What if the frog was just as venomous as the scorpion? What if, right now, that scorpion is so far gone just from being on the frog’s back?”

“This isn’t helping. Besides I’m not projecting on the frog. I’m projecting on the scorpion.” Strickler hated how petulant he sounded. He just wanted to be alone. 

“Anyways. Scorpion or frog, takes adaptability to become like that, and to grow out of that.” 

Strickler made a non-comital sound. He couldn’t stop worrying about that stinger. Besides this voice was clearly not getting the program that now was the time to be miserable. Misery left very little room for optimism. In fact it hurt. Like an ingrown hair. 

“Well, enjoy feeling like a villain then.”

“I don’t feel like one, I am one.”

The voice didn’t respond, but Strickler felt confident it was shrugging at him. 

He didn’t like that.

That’s when Strickler came back to consciousness again. 

They, the trolls, were debating over getting a gaggle-tack or not, wondering if maybe they could hit him between changing. Strickler debated over his feelings on whether he would have preferred to die by the hands of Bular or Gunmar more.

And while the trolls displayed their misguided understanding of changeling physiology with..

“Maybe when we rip his stomach open stones will drop out.”

“Why do you suppose that?” “Well…aren’t they inside out? There was a toy that I found once in the sewers it was, uh, reversible. Wouldn’t that explain where the troll side goes when they look like this? And vise versa?”

Strickler wanted to laugh, but decided against it.

Instead he contemplated over the sheer irony of spending a lifetime being fearful of perishing under the supposed brilliant leadership of Gunmar, only to be beat up and dissected by some gaggle of buffoons. 

All that hard work. All that build up of pride. Only to meet an end unsanctimoniously by idiots.

Payback for my own pretentiousness, he gathered.   

Now he really wanted to laugh. Something hollow and cold. And Strickler started to, until something (a fist or another blasted video appliance - he wasn’t sure) crashed against his appendix and knocked the air out of him. 

It made Strickler think of Barbara, flirting with coffee and appendectomies. Maybe it was the blood rushing to his head - but Strickler welcomed being under Barbara’s knife. If anyone were to dissect him he wouldn’t mind it being her.  

It was then that Strickler noticed Krax’s face staring up at him from the crowd. There was a contorted expression on his face that Strickler found hard to read. Immensely so upside down. Was it fear? Was it anger? The foreboding gaze of seeing a potential future should Krax’s identity be found out. Was Krax contemplating rescuing him?

That’d be idiotic, thought Strickler, fondly. Though considering how they left their last conversation Strickler highly doubted it. 

He’s probably more worried I’d rat him out. Strickler frowned at the thought. 

Thus, with a reasonable amount of changeling honor, Strickler shook his head with a look that Strickler hoped would convey ‘don’t do anything stupid. I won’t expose you. Don’t expose yourself, not for me.’

Strickler wasn’t sure if Krax got the message. He wasn’t sure if the look on Krax’s face was something that resembled sadness. But he did catch Krax lowering his head, and walking away from the crowd. 

Strickler smiled at that.

//

Thank you so much for reading! ♡(´⌣`ʃƪ)

[knightfire]

Fanfic Writer Interview

@umbreonix tagged me but I have no idea who I should tag, so.. 😅 *cough*

How many works do you have on AO3?

15 on AO3 Plus innumerable (aka more than 10) wip that I keep not posting

What’s your total AO3 word count?

If I added this right… 193,085

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

On AO3? Two: Hazbin Hotel and Bob’s Burgers. Off of AO3? Almost literally everything I have ever had more than a passing interest in has ended up with a little ficlet about it😬

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Regular-Sized Romance (why is that still up?)

Failures, of the Mutual Kind

A Chance in Hell

On the Use of Metaphors in a Downpour

The Mistletoe Incident

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I try to as much as I can. If I miss what I feel like is the appropriate “window” to reply for some reason, I get paralyzed over the idea that I have waited too long and now it’ll be weird

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Actually on AO3 or just in general? The angstiest one in general is still living in my email account and is probably never going to see the light of day

On AO3? I really don’t think I have any angsty ending ones? ACIH is probably the closest one. I tend to like angsty beginnings and middles more than endings 😅

Do you write crossovers? If so, what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I guess On-Air maybe technically counts as a crossover since it’s got characters from HH and HB, and thematic elements from The Matrix? I have an unfinished Lupin III story knocking around that I started just for fun that was eventually meant to turn into a crossover, but the first half has been languishing for a while

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not really? Annoyance, maybe. Like “why would you do this?” 😅

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Nah. Smut honestly doesn’t inspire much of anything in me. I mean good for the folks who do it/enjoy it or whatever, but it’s nothing that I feel anything for

I can and will do pages of teasing/flirting/etc, but being suggestive is as far as I am personally interested in going with what I write

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No 🤣

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Never, no 😅

What’s your all time favorite ship?

Currently? RadioHusk. It’s definitely the thing I have produced the most content for of all time (most of which is still unposted)

Whats a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

The vast majority of the stuff I do is just to amuse myself, and well.. that means there’s a lot of abandoned wip stuff knocking around. I pick fandoms back up sometimes though, so who knows? I may eventually finish most of them.

For RH though, the first little amuse-myself story I did will probably never be finished just because it’s been so long and I have gone in a totally different direction with the characters since then. Alastor was sleezier, Husk was angrier, and the hotel was the latest set for the ongoing big mind game between them

A few concepts from it have surfaced in the things that have followed, though

What are your writing strengths?

Uh.

Well, I like scenery and mood, and I try to give some sense of them so that anyone reading can maybe picture what I’m trying to describe. Feelings are really important to me too, and I hope that emotion comes through properly

What are your writing weaknesses?

I get bogged down in minutiae very easily, and have a hard time knowing when to edit stuff down to keep it moving well. The perspective I write in sometimes sounds “flat”, but also I tend to write scenarios that are 1000% more dramatic than they need be. I mean there’s more than that but those are the main ones that come immediately to mind

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

When I use other languages, it’s more “punctuation” than dialogue. A word, two or three tops, because I feel like it’s inevitable that it sounds like Google translate if I use more. I usually avoid presenting a conversation in another language, but that’s just me

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Ever, with written words instead of making up a story in my head? Maaaaybe Hey Arnold? (It might have been Angry Beavers?)

What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

That’s.. hard to answer. Favorite has a lot a qualifiers tbh. Maybe Mis-Match-Made, just because it’s been so many things and the ever-changing au nature of it means it’s touched on a lot of things that I don’t think I’d get an occasion to visit otherwise without a dedicated story made JUST for getting into those concepts.

[jack-is-lost]

Which part of the lost boys is your favourite?

Ooh, hard to say, but if you are referring to the film as a whole and not just the characters, I’d have to say the entire race to the bluff. Lost in the Shadows really amplifies the scene as it plays in the background. I like the scenery displayed along the fast-paced ride; from the beach, under the pier, to flying past trees. It is also fun to flesh it out in a written form. Of describing the emotion and roar of the bikes — how the wind whips through them while dancing between trees, and their howls of laughter brushes upon the breeze. The scene, overall, is pretty short. So the following introduction to the cave hotel and the daring stunt at trestle are close behind as favorites.

  I really enjoy how they all naturally act here. Sure, there is some intimidation and scare tactics here, but they are overall being a group of guys having a good time. Outside of dialogue, Michael appears like he fits right in frame with them. Rolling his eyes at how Dwayne, Marko, and Paul are practically fumbling across the tracks. Michael is even smirking and shows a true interest in “what’s going on?” 

I’ve written about this scene as well and though I make sure to add the obvious nervousness among the uncertainty of it all, I still break down the chemistry seen here. I mean, we all know Michael eventually hangs beneath the trestle. Even in the novelization version, it is described as feeling like David is just egging him on to be more reckless and the ‘now’ half-vamp didn’t want to back down. Sure, he didn’t know the train was coming until he was down there hanging on for dear life, but still. 

I often think back to the bonfire buffet scene as well. I wouldn’t rank it on my top favorite moments of the film, exactly, but I do enjoy the symbolic moment hidden beneath the tonality. You see the guys reveal this hidden beast within them and completely let free, ripping and throwing limbs into the established fire — feeding the flames literally and figuratively. They know what they are doing in trying to coax Michael to take that final step. Yet, you see him struggling with himself, almost entirely revealing the hunger beneath his skin but forcing his body to flee. This leads me to that bedroom scene at the Emerson’s house, where Star comes to visit. A lot of writers theorize how to change the ending to the movie within their fanfics — be it OC inserts or other ships. They don’t want the Lost Boy’s dead, right? For me, personally, it is this scene.

It is Star’s last moment to grab fate by the neck. She shows a sense of realization that Michael might be falling between metaphorical cracks. He is slipping and she wants to bring him back to something more solid again, to not accept what he is because she was once there — almost taking the plunge but Michael brought her strength and she wants to do the same. In the movie, Michael says “I know what I am now.” It is a moment in the film where we, as a watcher, can see that this character is coming to terms with the change. If one truly wanted to change the outcome of the film, this scene would be an easy way to go about it. Have Michael’s resolve fold in on itself that night, if not the next night, but keep Star standing strong. Sam reaches out to her and the Frog Bros follow in step. The end scene starts to build up but they never get the chance to go to the cave to stake Marko. Thus, the Lost Boys never have a reason to seek revenge. And when Max makes his entrance at the end of the film he could still break the illusion — maybe cause he knows Michael has fully changed, for example, and wishes to change Lucy and Sam that night. Yet, grandpa won’t let that happen and still comes in. Star, present due to seeking help with Sam and the Frog Bros, is the one who pushes Max — instead of Michael. All half-vamps become full humans again, the guys are still ‘living’, so it equals out to a happy ending. Well, if you consider Michael fully taking the plunge as a bonus, anyway.   

[jojotichakorn]

Dear Archer,

I told you so, and it happened! I was gently rejected. 💔 Guess that’s karma for dissing PeteKao -> goodbye brownie points. 🥲 But because I’m a very open minded person (that loves to be proven wrong) -> I promise I will watch the whole franchise again at some point. Maybe then I will like them better; but for now, I think it was the constant (imho unnecessary) misunderstandings that put me off a little bit. (Truth be told, I only watched DBK 🤭 -> perhaps if I had watched Kiss: The Series and Kiss Me Again beforehand I would have enjoyed PeteKao more.) I hope you can still appreciate my input to your inbox; I’m trying really hard here. 😥

Anyhow, to end the confusion once and for all: I am and will remain (for now at least…) the only Win-stan in your inbox. And yes, I prefer to keep that side of me anonymous. 🙃 As for why: apart from the fact that he looks beautiful on the one hand (“handsome” just doesn’t cover it) and like the human version of a frolicking puppy on the other… He has a beautiful soft spoken voice: every time I hear it smth within me just feels calm. 😌 Plus, he is just so funny. Cracks me up every time. Also, I am a very simp-le 🧷 soul: if someone speaks English, they get a brownie point from me.

As for Degrassi, I am not as ancient as I sound (just past the 25-age border). But if I may give some elderly advice: I think you might appreciate Adam’s story (season 10-13). 😉

Finally: lmao, look at us (not into angst or violence bc it triggers stuff) BOTH enjoying Not Me (thriller, lots of violence, constantly looming threat of being exposed)!!! 🤣🤣🤣 I just think it’s been a wild ride so far. And it proves once aGun 🧷 why OffGun is soo well-matched. Tbh, this definitely not my genre, so I can’t say a lot about the execution. (Btw, as far as film in general is concerned, I’m great at analysing screenwriting and to some extent metaphors and scenery -> but as for characters/ actual acting skills, I’m not your gal. 🙈) But as far as my personal opinion went, I liked it a lot. Somehow, it was a lot easier to get into than F4: Thailand. About that, I do actually agree with Thel. It brought up a lot of unwanted memories for me too. And judging from the tag, I think this opinion is shared by a number of people. I can also say as much as that I’m not the only Gorya-Ren shipper on the block. (Typical me: shipping the wrong couple! 🤥)

@reliable anon -> ImMo 🧷 be honest and admit that my spirits were a little Louiser 🧷 (sorry idk how to turn this into a pun 🤦‍♀️) after your reply. But I while hold up my Wai-t 🧷 flag 🏳 and accept your hand in friendship. 🤝 Cheers to Chang-e 🧷! 🥂 This might sound a bit Korn-y 🧷, but Safe 🧷 to say, I mean every word of it. I am just Ink-credibly 🧷 grateful to our “Archer-tect” 🧷 for crea-Tong 🧷 this op-Pa-tunity 🧷 to communicate with each other. It’s great to Pat-take 🧷, although at this point I can’t com-Pran-hent 🧷 what I’m talking about. 😂 Maybe I should just “Chai-Chai-Slide” 🧷 out of this conversation. 😆

That was it for now. Just chant with me: Ohm Pawat deserves the world! And: Archer deserves even more! 💗💜💙🏳️‍⚧️💙💜💗

Lots of cuddles coming your way! 🫂🫂🫂

~ operanon 🎼

P.S. A fun fact about me to cheer you up: I experienced my first wlw awakening (I think I had 5 in total 😅) after listening to t.A.T.u.’s “All the Things She Said”. (I saw the music video on television during a music program that was probably meant for teens -> I must have been 6 or 7 at the time and I was just 😮 and then 🥰.)

P.P.S. Every day it gets harder to keep up my “anon” identity and not mix up things with my actual non-anon identity. 😳 You’re hot on my tail! ☺️

hello, dear operanon!!

i wouldn't say you were rejected - just gently nudge your secret admiring in the direction of platonic, and you'll be good! i see you haven't gone through my list of drama recs (/lh), but i do actually recommend watching just the petekao cut before rewatching dbk (no need to watch the entirety of kiss me and kiss me again gjkgjdfkgj).

i respect your wish for anonymity in all things - whether win-related or not - which is why (in relation to your p.p.s) i shall not be putting my detective hat on for this one. no gears are turning in my head, no tails are being set on fire - you shall have your anonymity until you decide to reveal your identity all on your own.

also, i know i seem like a wee baby, but i have known i am trans since i was 15, so i have actually gone through much of the trans rep content. i have also been there when this masterpiece of a meme was made (if any trans mascs are reading this - enjoy):

and actually, i am so sorry for the confusion, but i do not mind violence at all, especially when it's in a stick-it-to-the-man context like with not me or manner of death. it's angst that i hate. half the reason why i chose the name archer is actually because i've been shooting out people's kneecaps with a bow and some arrows in video games since i was 11, so if anything violence is kind of my thing (in fictional settings, of course).

and as for your p.s., i think most queer russians have a pretty complex relationship with that song, but i am glad it made for such a positive experience for you!!

[xcal1bur25]

Cyberpunk 2077 and why despite everything I still love it

So, let’s get this out of the way first: I am not going to mindlessly suck CDPR’s dick. The game is flawed, they had to crunch to make it, they lied to consumers, etc, etc, etc all very bad things. But I bought cyberpunk, and while i’m not blind to it’s imperfections, I’m really, really enjoying it. But not for the reasons you think.

There was a post, a while back, about how a reviewer was talking to Hayao Miyazaki about how, as opposed to a lot of western movies which race frantically from one plot point to the next as so to never bore the viewer, his movies always have these quiet moments that give the audience time to let the story and setting sink in. Cyberpunk is a game that is, on the surface, all about flash and style and action and cool shit but really, that’s just a facade. The heart of cyberpunk 2077, the moments that have stuck with me and struck me as something truly unique and worthwhile, are the quiet moments. There’s often points in the story where you are riding in a car driven by someone else, and you have a chance to watch the scenery out the window as a conversation may or may not be happening. I love these moments, this chance to just let the world soak in and a chance to breathe. Cyberpunk fucking nails these moments. And while the driving ones are some of my favorite ones, it’s really all of them that stand out to me.

There’s a sidequest that involves a funeral for a character. At one point you just sit down on a curb in an alleyway next to his girlfriend and from that perspective the world feels so huge and you feel so insignificant compared to it. You’re just two people the world barely acknowledges, sitting down behind a building nobody gives a fuck talking about someone who died too soon. It is a small, tiny event. It will never be written in the history books, and nobody besides the two people involved will be affected by it, much less remember it. But quiet moment, on a day altogether too bright and sunny for a funeral, mattered to those two people. It was small and quiet and meaningless to the world as a whole and so incredibly human. There are more moments like this throughout the game and even though they are fully irrelevant to the main plot I will remember them just as much as I remember the awesome set pieces.

I’ll remember riding through the desert with Panam, not a soul in sight on the horizon and nothing but mountains, wind turbines, and cacti out the window. 

I’ll remember the conversation at the waterfront with Takemura, between two people who the world would rather have dead just trying to deal with the shit hand they’ve been dealt.

I’ll remember the conversation in the Delamain with Jackie, two people that don’t matter trying their damn hardest to prove otherwise in the most spectacular way possible, that nervous anxiety and anticipation before the job that could change everything filling the cab like an atmosphere.

Cyberpunk is a game about a profoundly dehumanizing and indifferent world filled with an abundance of incredibly human moments. Moments that the neon glow of advertisements and cyberware couldn’t drown out if they tried. It’s a story about people doing their best to live with the shit hand a shit world deals, and I fucking love it for that. To use a very, very weird metaphor, if I were to compare Cyberpunk to the openings of the anime Attack on Titan, Cyberpunk is a game that, on the surface, is Guren no Yumiya, filled with awesome cool shit and pretty colors around every corner, meant to excite and thrill you and while it’s not necessarily devoid of substance the style is what really matters here. But at it’s true heart it’s not Guren no Yumiya. It’s Red Swan. Beneath that style it is suprisingly reflective, quiet, and so painfully human. And that contrast really stands out and makes it memorable.

Cyberpunk is an unfinished product, and CDPR definitely needed to work on it for a while longer (and probably without crunch). But just because that product was released too soon and unfinished doesn’t change the fact that CDPR’s most recent project was something that I found really special. So, if you wanna wait for them to fix all those problems, be my guest. That’s probably a very good idea. But I do recommend you play this game eventually, maybe now, maybe after they fix it. Because the imperfect thing they are fixing is honestly really damn cool. Cyberpunk is a game that on a technical level is a disappointment, on a mechanical level is enjoyable but nothing new, and on a world, story, setting, and mood level has blown me the fuck away. And unlike most media that blow me away, cyberpunk didn’t do it with a bang. It did it with a whisper.

[jordm]

Heartland 14x01 - Keep Me in Your Heart

So, just because I put off watching this episode for so long, I feel like I know most - if not all of the plot points thanks to my timeline but in any case, here I am - finally sitting down to watch the episode proper. I’m going to try to watch “live” and type as I watch but uhhh lets see how this goes.

Let’s start with the looming plot point - Ty’s passing.

First, i’ll start by saying, by no means do I blame Graham for wanting out. 14 years is a long time to have the same job, and if you don’t have passion for it anymore, it is by far better to leave then give a half ass effort. Did he think that the series would go on for this long? Probably not - nor did I. But if they knew Graham wanted permanently out and not just temporary, I do agree with this route. It allows Amy to move on, explore some new storylines and eliminates the whole absentee father aspect of it all.

A thought: do we think that they filmed this opening scene last year, knowing how the story was going to end?  I mean, it is summer here, same clothes and scenery as where last season ended, so it’s entirely possible they filmed this last year. Plus, we know that Graham wasn’t really on set with any other characters this year, so i think there’s a strong case to be made.

The house they were building on the plot of land was abandoned and a lil rusty. A metaphor shall we for how Amy is feeling. I wonder if the house will slowly get built as Amy heals her heart and slowly starts to live life again as the season goes on. So, as Amy slowly recovers and heals, the house will be built, representing a new beginning of some sort. Moving forward but never forgetting the past. (PS i wrote this before i got to the end of the episode so this was just a forethought OOPS)

Seeing Lyndy so carefree probably also mirrors real life - where children have no idea of what really happened or the gravity of the situation. I remember when I was a kid (around 5), at a funeral of my grandpa having the time of my life playing with my cousins, not realizing how serious things were. Of course, in real life, the twins probably had no idea what happened, just that “daddy” wasn’t on set haha.

All the flashbacks just hurt my heart. Seeing circa S5 Ty and Amy (or whatever season that was) at the fishing cabin, Ty and Amy working together to birth the foal & Ty at night with two mugs in hand and how those memories related to current day events was a good reminder that the smallest action/word can trigger a memory. Something as simple as a saw could trigger a memory.  I was also reminded of how good the older seasons were and how much the entire cast has changed over the past 14 years - 14 years.

I loved hearing about Grandma Lyndy and Jack’s experience with dealing with his loss. As much as good intentions Tim has, I think Jack is the person to get through to Amy, the one with the one who can relate to her the most with his experience. I feel like we know so much about Grandma Lyndy, but also, so little so hopefully Ty’s death allows for a little more Jack story time.

Of course, just as Tim and Jack think that Amy needs to take on some clients, at the cabin they come across some trapped horses. Perhaps its just the thing to distract her from the event coming up - or the thing to bring up some memories and get her to finally open up. Either way, I loved that Jack was there for her and I love the relationship that they have.

Georgie falling off course during her run because she thought she saw Ty speaks volumes to how much Ty was always there for her during her competitions and the special relationship that they have. I was thinking that Georgie burying herself in school the last year may have been her coping mechanism to deal with the death. She said at the dinner table that she was too busy with school to come back, but it could be that she just couldn’t bear to come home to a place that reminded her so much of him.

The others at the memorial speaking about their memories with Ty, while the flashbacks play in the background was powerful. Ty had an important part to each one. He was Caleb’s best friend, Jack’s surrogate son, Lou’s first dance student, Amy’s best friend/inspiration/husband, Lyndy’s father. Even Tim acknowledged how crazy in love Amy and Ty were (even if it didn’t seem like it in the past few seasons haha). Ty was important to everyone and his loss will be felt throughout the entire season.

But onto other topics, it was nice to see Georgie and Quinn still together, as well as Mitch and Lou... engaged?!?! Plus, we even got a Katie appearance and it was nice to see the two cousins bonding, which has been rare up to this point. And, Quinn grew out is hair (even though I’m totally partial to the short haired Quinn)!

It was nice to hear that Georgie was focused on school and happy. The past few seasons has felt like the same-same for her, the focus on school and horse jumping and trying to juggle it all and the one year time jump allowed Georgie to do just that (without having to show it explicitly) which may not have been the most exciting television. Now that Quinn is her coach, I wonder how this changes their dynamic going forward- if they can get through this season and with him being her coach, then that is just good news.

Lou loving being mayor, or telling herself that she liked it seemed like an Omen for the future that her mayoral duties are about to become a lot more complicated. I look forward to the dynamic that her and Aidan bring to this season.

Also, the Spencer Twins are more vocal than ever and it just plays out so well on television!! They’re so cute 

The disadvantage to the one year later jump, is all the things we missed out on. It means we missed out on a lot of events I would have wanted to see such as:

* the start of Quinn and Georgie’s relationship (clearly its serious, they’re still together a year later)

* Mitch proposing to Lou?? Um, details please! I’d like some backstory on this please!

Overall, I really enjoyed this episode - dare I say favourite of the season so far? (ha ha ha). I will miss Ty but can’t wait to see how his passing affects the rest of the season.

[efrmellifer]

Unrestrained

Seven Days of Estinyan, Day Seven

As Etien walked to the aetheryte, the basket laden down with food (enough for a light dinner, anyway) swung on her arm with every step.

She stood, arms folded at her diaphragm while she waited, scanning the stairways from Saint Valeroyant’s and Saint Reinette’s Forums, mind wandering to the point she didn’t actually notice Estinien walk up to her until he swept an eyelash off her cheek.

“Hello, Estinien,” she said with a smile, reining her thoughts back into her head.

“Is that heavy?” he asked, gesturing to the basket.

She shook her head. “But I appreciate your asking.”

“So where are we going?”

She’d started casting the spell already, but she stopped to answer him. “Fallgourd Float.”

He looked down at her, trying to sort through the tidbits that she had told him about the Black Shroud and determine which region of the forest they would be in.

“North Shroud?” he asked finally.

She nodded, having returned to casting the spell for them to travel there.

“Not very far to go,” he said when they had arrived, the late-afternoon sunshine warming him considerably. Etien was shedding her coat, too.

“Not far, no, but far enough across the Central Highlands, and I didn’t want you to already be sweaty when we got here.”

His brow knit. “Am I going to get sweaty?”

She just gave him a sweet smile and a lift of her eyebrows.

She still walked through the Shroud with the confidence that came from making a home there, gaining intimate knowledge of the place. It was a way that she didn’t really walk through Ishgard, even when she’d gained a proper familiarity with its gray stones and vertical spread.

In Ishgard, her vibrant colors—both in her clothing and the natural shades of her hair and eyes—stuck out. Here, she looked like a natural part of the scenery.

And here, Estinien looked the odd man out, all pale hair and pale eyes. A winter man wandering spring’s dominion.

But she just looked over her shoulder to make sure he was following her. So he did, even taking her hand when she reached back to offer it.

Eventually, she led him up a hill, close to one of those tall buildings that seemed to populate the Shroud. A watchtower, if he remembered correctly.

She sat, setting her coat down carefully next to her, and patted the patch of grass beside her. “Come sit down, Estinien,” she chirped.

When he did, she took off the cloth covering the basket’s content, revealing cut fruit, cheeses (and spreads Etien could eat), and crackers.

She spread some of the cheese out for him, then handed the cracker over, taking one for herself.

When he’d finished chewing and had swallowed, he commented, “a pretty view.”

Etien sat back on her hands. “It is. This part of the Twelveswood is really pretty, I think. There are pretty parts in the South, too. Just about everywhere, there’s somewhere really breathtaking. But this is home—well, it was. You know what I mean.”

Estinien turned to face her, instead of staring at the trees in the distance. “Did you live up here?”

“Well, I lived in Alder Springs, that way,” she pointed in the general direction. “Still in the North Shroud, but over there. I’ve wandered just about every fulm of the area, alone or with others.”

“Others being?”

She shrugged. “Hunting parties. T’ahn, once.”

“Only once?”

She swallowed, placing the cracker she had been eating in her lap. “We didn’t see each other very often later in the relationship.”

Sudden curiosity overtook Estinien, and though Etien was staring at her lap, he took the chance to pick at the scab, just one little scratch. If she hissed, literally or metaphorically, he would stop. “How long were you together?”

“Too long.” She shook her head, as she usually did when she was trying to clear her mind. “It was… a bad decision, but it doesn’t matter now. I’m thousands of times happier and more secure.” She leaned against him. “I never want to think of him again. I know I’m cursed to, because of how everything happened, but… when I’m with you, there’s no reason he has to cross my mind.”

Estinien patted her head. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“What is intimacy but baring things we usually cover and not flinching when we’re looked at?” She finished the cracker she had abandoned and took another. Estinien continued eating, too.

When the little jars of spreads were empty, all that was left of the cheese was the wax, and not even crumbs remained as evidence there had been crackers, Etien sat back on her hands again. But this time, she was looking at Estinien.

In the last of the day’s light, he looked just a little bit like he was glowing—she figured it was a trick of the light on his hair, but she still liked it.

She was opening her mouth to comment on this, how pretty he looked, when he spoke before she could.

“Lots of lancers and archers out.” He gestured to the Wood Wailers wandering down the forest path. “Almost like we belong here.”

Etien snorted, both to brush off how her attempt at romance had been foiled, and because it was a funny observation. “If we belong anywhere.”

He scooted a little closer to her, crossing his legs so he could seat himself next to her outstretched ones. “Well, belong was perhaps the wrong word. But we belong together,” he said, taking her hand. “The Wood Wailers make sense for the same reason we do.”

“The archers give up home and the lancers lose it, like us?” she scoffed.

“I was thinking mutual benefit and support, but if you insist on being difficult,” he groused, “I can take my flirtation elsewhere.”

Now she clung tight to his hand. “No, stay. Please.” She pointed up at the sky. “Look, the stars are starting to come out.”

Estinien looked up, then back to her, though she still had her head tipped back, mouth open and arced into a smile that drew attention to her eyeteeth.

That is, it drew his attention until he looked at how her eyes crinkled with the joy, having him and her both whispering “wow,” for completely different reasons.

Well, maybe not so different. They were both looking at something beautiful.

“This is going to sound silly,” she said, flicking her eyes to him for a moment, then watching the stars again, “but I feel more free tonight than I did any night I spent out here before… before.”

“Even with everything that constitutes the after?” he asked.

“Even with that. I don’t get to choose much, because of the after, but I did choose this. And I’m happy about it and with it.”

He couldn’t fight the smile that came with the feeling of her grip tightening ever so slightly as she said it.

He leaned across the small gap between them and kissed the corner of her mouth.

She turned into it, letting go of his hand so she could hold him—maybe not more properly, just differently. Closer.One hand settled on his shoulder, and the other slipped into his hair while the kiss developed into something more purposeful and less self-denying.

As he leaned into her, she started to more fully recline, which he supposed made sense, when she no longer had her hands behind her for support, but something about it still felt like it was in excess.

Even so, he let his hand come around her back to ease her to the ground more slowly.

Did he chafe slightly at the thought of lying atop her in the middle of the woods, with all the Wailers around, here at dusk? Yes. But he was enjoying this too much to actually let it change his behavior.

As her hand drifted from resting on his shoulder to curling around his upper back to bring him closer for her to kiss, a thought came to Estinien, though he was trying to quiet his thoughts for the time being.

This was… perfectly rational. Or at the very least, not irrational.He’d lost most of his adolescence, what was left of it given to training as a knight. And though she had not told him how long she had been with T’ahn, he could guess, and if she had left him and Alder Springs at nineteen…

They deserved some excessively youthful-for-their-age petting in the wilds of the Black Shroud.

So he surrendered to the warmth of her breath and the coolness of her skin.

His hand spread over her cheek, catching strands of her hair between his fingers, so soft and yet soft in a different way from her skin below his palm.

His palm, he knew, rough from the handling of a lance all the time. Her fingers were never so rough, even when she came home from the hardest fights of her life.

So much of her was soft, despite the raw power contained within her.

Her hair, her skin, her lips, even her legs pressed up against his sides as if to hold him right where he was were soft over the strength of the muscles there.

And her heart was soft, soft enough to see the years of pain that he’d channeled into single-minded pursuit of a revenge that hadn’t even been as sweet as it was promised to be—she saw him in that infirmary bed, weakened from his battle—and she still thought he was worth loving.

She did choose this.

And he was happy about and with it.

[nishinoya-is-baby]

Hello! I am absolute trash and a sucker for clichés, so could I request a long imagine (feel free to make it shorter/longer if you want!) of fake dating with Suga?

Hiii! Thank you so much for the request, it means a lot! I’m really really sorry this came out so late! I have my permit and I’m working towards getting my license so I had to get some driving hours in today! I haven’t been able to drive as much since school started, so I took advantage of my free time today! Rarely will this happen if you request anything, and keep in mind I get your requests out ASAP while still making sure they’re good! After that I had a mandatory family hangout day! Anyway!!! I hope you enjoy! Love you! Pronouns=gender neutral l/i=love interest

“Y/n, please! You still owe me a favor, so you can’t get out of this even if you wanted to!” You ignored Suga’s words as you two walked home together. “No, Suga. Besides, I can choose what I do to make up for the favor I owe you.” “That’s not how that works!” “Yes, it is.” “No!” You guys went back and forth until you asked, “Why do you even want to do this? Why can’t you just talk to l/i? Pretending to date me might just make them lose interest in you!” “You see, my dear y/n, this will only make them want me more! People always want what they can’t have!” Suga explained. After a few minutes of silence, you finally complied. “Fine, but only until you guys start to get close, then we’re “ending” it,” you said. “Yes! You’re a lifesaver! See you tomorrow, my love!” You didn’t even get to respond before Suga ran off towards his house. Normally, you would be fine doing this for Suga, being life long friends and all, but when you realized that you loved him more than a friend a couple of months ago, this whole ordeal seemed like a plot against you. It already sucked enough knowing Suga had his heart set on another person, and now you have to pretend to be his significant other!

Monday came fast, having agreed to the plan on Friday and solidifying all the details of your “relationship” over the weekend.

~Flashback~ You were on the phone with Suga, talking about your plan. “Okay, y/n! You might wanna write this down! I asked you out during movie night and you said yes, obviously. From here on out, we’ll hold hands, give each other gifts, and occasionally give forehead kisses when in front of l/i!” ~End of flashback~

When you met up with Suga at your normal meeting place, he seemed a lot more happy than usual. “Why do you seem so happy,” you ask. “I’m just really excited for this plan to work and to finally be with l/i,” he said, happily. You let out a hum of acknowledgment at what he said and began your walk to school together.

The first couple of weeks were a little strange, to say the least. You guys were awkward, and your movements seemed forced. Of course, other people saw this and thought you two were just shy and getting used to being in a relationship. After a while though, things got better. Your movements and gestures were smooth and didn't seem forced anymore. You guys went on fake dates, hung out as much as possible, and posted the hell out of each other. Even though your fake relationship was doing well, you weren't. You felt so guilty because you were actually enjoying this fake relationship, and you knew Suga’s heart belonged to l/i, not you. As unsurprising as it sounds, you fell harder for Suga each day your plan went on. You were able to feel how perfect he would be as a boyfriend. You were able to feel the warmth he emitted both physically and metaphorically. You were able to feel the affection behind all his soft touches. You were also able to feel the way Suga looked at you instead of l/i in your shared classes and how he talked to them less and less each day that passed.

Two months had passed since you agreed to the plan. You knew he had completely stopped talking to l/i the week prior, and planned on confronting him about it after school. I mean, why would he keep giving you presents, holding your hand, posting you on social media, and softly kissing the top of your head if the plan wasn't needed anymore? The end of the school day finally arrived. When Suga walked up to you, he was surprised to hear you say, “Shouldn’t we end this? It’s clear you and l/i aren’t talking anymore, so why are we still pretending?” There were a few moments of silence before he softly said, “Come with me.” You guys walked off of school campus, past the convenience store you always go to together, past the school where you two met, past the tree where you had your first fight with him. You ended up at the park. The setting sun caused a gorgeous golden glow to drape around the both of you. You found a bench to sit on, and after appreciating the scenery, Suga finally said something. Something that would be the end of your fake relationship. Something you would engrave into your brain. Something that would change your life forever. “Y/n, I love you. Not in a platonic way either. I love you with every part of my being. I thought I loved l/i, but it was you all along. It was always you, and always will be you. I can't even begin to imagine my world without you. I don't want to be your fake boyfriend. I want to be your real boyfriend. Y/n, will you make me the happiest boy alive, and be my girlfriend?”

Thank you for the request! If you'd like me to modify it, feel free to request again with the changes you want, and I'll gladly edit it for you! <3

(854 words)

[wollfling]

Hello! I have an art question, if you don't mind talking about art stuff! I'm trying to get better at drawing, but having a really hard time with figuring out how to draw people. I feel like I've made progress with things like animals, objects, etc but I just can't get my drawings of people to improve! You draw people (and everything else tbh!!) so beautifully, do you mind if I ask how you learned to draw them? Or if you have any advice? Thank you for posting your art here, you're such a big inspiration and I love seeing your posts when they come across my feed! 💗

I love talking about art stuff!!! ♡ firstly, thank you aww ;×;) !! I'm so flattered, its really so sweet of you to say that!!

(( oh my god once again I've written so much I am so sorry! I put a tldr at the end, I couldn't quite go into much detail about specifics because im not quite sure what specifically you would like to improve, but I did try to cover some bases but please don't be afraid to message me with any more info or questions!!! ))

I'm a bit of the opposite where I can only draw people and struggle making progress with everything else lol, I admire you a little bit!! 🤭

People can be hard to capture, because we naturally (subconsciously?) examine them trying to determine things like emotion and im not quite sure how to put it but... health? For most people, its easy to see if someone is tired or sick at a glance. This comes into play when drawing people because we are wired to immediately analyze everything about them and pick up things that are wrong (think of uncanny valley type stuff!)

I often think about something bob Ross said, I dont have the time to hunt it down but what he said was basically along the lines of; he prefers painting scenery, because when we see a scenic painting its easier to think "this looks like somewhere ive been!" And its more believable. Meanwhile, its hard to capture the exact likeness of someone. If its a little off, we feel it looks "bad". I may have changed or added some points in there, but I think that was the general idea? 🤔 thats not to say scenic paint is easy in any way, its just about how we view it.

My point in this is, the key to drawing people is to create a believable figure. And how to achieve this depends on the style you draw them in ! I can only offer advice for stylized drawings (i struggle to draw hyper realistic people, and I also just don't enjoy it? Lol) but im assuming that since you like my art you're okay with that? ^^

In regards to how I learned to draw, well.. ive been doing it since I can remember ^^; I grew up watching anime which definitely altered my style and interests, and when i was in high-school I transitioned from an "anime adjacent " style, to a generalized "stylized" look, and now I strictly use photo reference which has helped make my style less cartoony but it still shares cartoon elements I feel? For a long time I drew without using references at all which im sure also contributed to how I draw things now. I havent had a chance to take art classes, so I've learned mostly by self study. Practicing drawing from reference, looking up tips and tricks youtube videos, watching other artists work and looking closely at their pieces to try and see how they achieve certain looks. Eventually it all adds up! How i draw people is a reflection of like 20 years of this!!

My biggest regret is not taking art "seriously" and going nearly all of those 20 not properly studying. This is my biggest piece of advice :^( unfortunately, im still learning how to do this myself, I think "studying" is a learned skill and hard to do without instruction. But if you can draw animals and objects I think you probably know a little bit on how to. So then looking a bit deeper into "improving", what about your drawings do you feel are lacking?

Circling back to my earlier paragraphs, how you want to improve depends on what sort of style you are going for and the way you want to portray or capture people. Portraits rely on technical skill i think. I'm not sure i could offer valuable advice here..

Comics, manga, and graphic novels sole intention is to tell a story through drawings. They don't give metaphors (usually!! Sometimes they do but not in the context im trying to explain) and/or tell us how characters are feeling, they show us! This is why the art styles of them often have exaggerated features, and simplified features. The eyes tend to have more detail because we read eyes for emotion, mouths are exaggerated because they are key to reading emotion (most importantly so I think! Watch: 🙂☹ the only difference is the mouth, but we can tell they feel totally different emotions.) Noses in comparison are usually more simplified as they, out of all features of the human face, are the least expressive.

If you want to improve your drawings of people so that they are more expressive and relatable, I would try to analyze how your face changes with emotion and perhaps practice with one of those emotion chart meme templates!

Illustration work is similar, but I feel the face doesn't actually matter as much. If you look at full bodied illustrations of people and zoom in on the face, you'll find that they are sometimes quite simplified! When viewing a full bodied person we generally take in the body's language first. It would take me a long time for me to explain in detail on this post (though I would love to talk about body language in illustration please let me know of you would like me to... also the body language of two figures.. but ill spare you for now ♡) I would recommend gesture drawing and timed studies. I improved drawing so much when I started doing this (I use the site quickposes a lot, set a high timer and draw!!) If drawing the face is hard for you and you can't seem to get anywhere, try focusing on the body for a little bit! Especially how bodies look when bending and twisting.. which might sound random, but I think it helps get a better understanding on how proportions can change with pose.

I wrote so much and I really didn't mean to. Its always hard to answer questions like this without much information like what your goal is and what look you want to achieve. I hope I didnt scare you away with my horrible novel of an answer but if you'd like to give more detail or ask any more questions please I welcome you to!! I love talking about art and I love love love hearing about other peoples art ;^; ♡

Tldr; when trying to improve drawing people it may not be as simple as working on technical skill, its important to keep in mind purpose, emotion, body language, and art style

[sprnklersplashes]

not beyond repair (16/20)

AO3

As March goes on, the clouds finally give way to the sunshine, painting the pavements golden and staying long enough to make the Westerberg faculty give way and allow their students-senior only, of course-to have their lunch outside, much to the delight of the students. Gone is the crowded, claustrophobic cafeteria, traded for sprawling across green lawns and chasing each other around the parking lot with water bottles in hand. There are outside tables, but they sit abandoned and alone, the sun glinting off their plastic. Even if they weren’t in dire need of a good cleaning, the students avoid them and trip over each other to get to the long stretch of grass out front instead, where four years ago they practised handstands and blushed when their skirts fell down. There’s a degree of freedom here that’s unlike anywhere inside, and certainly wouldn’t be found amongst the cafeteria tables. The social hierarchy isn’t completely invisible, the lines still clear when Heather Chandler perches on the wall and only her select few sit around her, but they blur when the rest of the student body are sprawled around her and walking on the walls and leaning back to share candy with classmates. And even Heather herself is too busy enjoying the change of scenery and fresh air to muster up a damn.

In the middle of the grass, Veronica stifles a laugh at Heather Mac, who frowns down at her legs, her skirt rolled up as much as she can while maintaining her dignity and her socks scrunched down.

“I really want a good tan,” she explains, taking her blazer off as well.

“Yeah, you’re bound to get it,” JD says flatly. Heather, unsure of his intent, as always, chooses to take it as an encouragement and beams at him.

“At least you don’t have that big trench coat anymore,” she points out, gesturing to the blue jacket that he’s using as a sort of tablecloth. “That would have cooked you alive. And it just wasn’t trendy.”

“They were the height of fashion in Indiana,” he says. Heather hums nonchalantly before being distracted by Martha offering her a cookie. She accepts with a grin and, after a look around to make sure no-one’s watching them, a kiss on her cheek.

“Aw, what a beautiful display of friendship,” JD remarks, sarcasm dripping off him like honey off a honeycomb. Heather sticks her tongue out at him, but what little malice there was in the gesture is gone when they start laughing together. Even if Veronica does slap his shoulder.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Veronica asks, nudging Martha lightly with her foot. Her half-eaten lunch caught Veronica’s eye, but her panic was subdued immediately when she saw the reason; her head bent over, focussing on a task that had her hands moving quickly and delicately. Martha looks up with a smile on her face. Veronica leans over a little and it falls into place in a second; it’s what they’ve done every year the minute the flowers started blooming. And it’s probably the reason for the distinct lack of flowers around Martha.

“Daisy chain,” she says proudly, holding up her handiwork, both ends falling over her hands and hanging above the ground. Heather gasps as though she’s held up a chain of pure gold rather than the most common flowers.

“Hey, show me how to do it,” she squeaks, giving Martha her full attention. Laughing, Veronica shares a knowing look with JD while her own hands pick daisies from the ground without ever looking down. She falls into an easy rhythm of opening the flower and threading the stem through it, even if she pokes herself more than a few times.

“Come on, J,” she teases, nudging him. “Don’t tell me you’re too manly to make daisy chains.

“Um, I am very secure in my masculinity thank you very much,” he says, pulling a notebook out of his bag and showing the pages to her. “Look. Glitter pen. Courtesy of MacNamara.”

“Wow you’re the pinnacle of progression,” she replies flatly. Grinning, he puts the notebook back in his bag and begins plucking a bunch of daisies for himself.

“Okay. So how do I do this?” he asks, watching Veronica. “Just rip the stem open and put the other on in there?”

“That was violent,” Martha says, looking up from her work, which Heather is watching with wide eyes.

“I prefer passionate,” he says. “It’s a metaphor for the harsh nature of life and how it tears apart innocence.”

“Calm down there Shakespeare it’s a flower necklace,” Veronica says. “Come here, let the pro show you how it’s done.” He turns to face her and she takes two of the flowers out of his lap, digging her thumbnail into the stem. “Okay, here, so you make a slit in the stem like that… and then you thread the other one through like that. And then you keep going until you make… whatever you want. Crown, necklace, bracelet-”

“Scarf?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“That’d be an achievement,” she remarks, handing the beginnings of his chain to him. She spends a few minutes just watching him. “Or, you could always make a weird ear thing to dangle from your boyfriend’s ear while he’s distracted.”

He blinks adorably at her for a moment, bewildered, before his hand slowly comes up to his ear and finds the flowers hanging from there. Veronica erupts into giggles behind her hands and even Martha has to chuckle at him.

“Jokes on you losers, I’m keeping it,” he declares with a toss of his head. “I look fabulous.”

“Yeah you do,” Veronica agrees, resting her cheek on his shoulder, daisy stems tickling her face.

“Oh my gosh!” Heather pipes up, sitting back on her heels. As their eyes fall on her with confused expectation, she clears her throat and lowers her voice, subtly gesturing over Veronica’s shoulder. “Look. I think Betty’s college letter might have come in.”

“Not our business,” Veronica says, despite the quick glance over her shoulder. Sure enough, Betty is sitting cross-legged on the grass opposite her friend Amber, a brown envelope in her hand. “She brought it to school?”

“Maybe she was nervous,” JD says softly.

“Or maybe it’s a superstitious thing,” Heather says. “My dad said when he got his letter he brought it to his school to open to the school spirits would bless him.”

“My mom opened hers in a church when she got it,” Martha adds, looking from one friend to the next anxiously. “Has anything come in for you guys yet?”

“Not a thing,” Heather sighs, her shoulders slumping and her whole body deflating in a way that almost makes her look unrecognisable. Martha puts an arm around her and pulls her closer.

“Neither have I, and that doesn’t mean anything yet,” she tells her.

“I haven’t heard anything,” Veronica adds. “Not Harvard, not Duke, not Brown. Not even my reserves.” She hopes she sounds more casual than she feels. Like she doesn’t check the mail twice every morning and isn’t one step away from standing outside and getting it from the mailman herself to make sure he’s not leaving it in his bag.

Breathe. That’s what she tells herself every day.

“How many colleges did you apply to?” JD asks, continuing with his daisy chain.

“Just five,” she says. “I don’t really care about the other two. Just wanted my mom not to worry.”

“Oh well I haven’t heard anything either,” he remarks. “They probably didn’t get the application I never sent.”

“My dad will kill me if I don’t get into college,” Heather says, her words getting faster and faster. “And it means all the work would have been for nothing.”

“Nothing?” Martha echoes, running a hand up her arm. Heather smiles, even if it’s weak.

“Okay, not entirely nothing. I did get to spend a lot of time with my favourite tutor,” she remarks. But she pulls her knees close to her chest. “But my dad’s been telling everyone how good I’ve been at school. How I’m definitely getting into a good college.” She picks at her knee-length white socks and pulls at the yellow ribbon on them. “I think he’s about to buy me one just to get me into one.”

“If he does can we all share it?” JD asks. “Can we have sleepovers.”

“Um, I don’t know,” Heather says, chuckling. “My mom doesn’t let me have sleepovers with boys. She thinks I’m going to do stuff with them.”

“Like what, glitter art?” JD asks, reaching into his bag and pulling out a packet of red liquorice. “Okay, who wants one? Just don’t tell Claire I had them. She’s on my case about my sugar levels again.”

Heather and Martha take one each, the conversation taking an easy turn away from college anxiety and possibly more importantly, takes Heather away from the cliff edge. Veronica doesn’t miss the grateful look Martha shoots JD as she idly rubs Heather’s back.

“Nice save,” Veronica whispers. He pokes her cheek with his liquorice. Without a word, he gently lifts up the daisy crown he made and sets it on her head, his touch so light she can barely feel his fingers in her hair.

“You look pretty,” he says, making her grin. That alone earns him a kiss on the cheek.

Martha walks home with her after school, courtesy of both her parents working late tonight. It’s become such a common occurrence between them that even Martha, who thanks bus drivers twice, has managed to stop thanking Veronica and her parents for letting her stay there. At this point, Martha knows every creak and groan of Veronica’s house as well as she does her own.

“This whole college thing has Heather really shaken up,” she tells her as they walk. “She’s started chewing her nails now.”

“That’s bad?” Veronica looks down at her own nails, two close to non-existent, she’s worn them down so much.

“It is when you’re her. It just hurts, seeing her like this, you know?”

“Yeah, I do,” Veronica sighs, thinking about JD and his terrified eyes and him curled up unmoving in his bed. “Just makes you feel useless.”

“Exactly!” Martha agrees. “All I want to do is help her. But I don’t know how.” Despite the seriousness she feels, Veronica can’t help smiling, one of those proud smiles she hates on her own mom. She hopes to God she’s not turning into her. “What?”

“Nothing,” she squeaks. “Only… you really like her, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. She’s my girlfriend.”

“Yeah but you really, really like her,” Veronica points out. Martha’s cheeks turn pink, her smile growing by the second.

“Yeah,” she admits, her eyes soft. She reaches up and plays with the star charm around her neck, the one Heather got her for Valentine’s day. “I just want her to be happy. Like, really happy. Not just happy when we’re cuddling in her bedroom.”

“Trust me,” Veronica says, turning her key in her front door. “That girl is way happier with you than she would be in any college.” Martha blushes again as they step inside, her face the same colour as her sweater.

“Mom, we’re home!” Veronica calls, heading to the kitchen and tossing Martha a Twix before grabbing one for herself. Her mom’s footsteps can be heard from the top of the stairs and she appears in the kitchen in no time at all, beaming more at Martha than at her.

“Martha, it’s so nice to see you,” she says, as if she doesn’t see her at least twice a month.

“You too, Aunt Ella,” she says.

“We’re going to go do homework upstairs,” Veronica says, even though she’s leaning against the counter and grabbing two mugs and flicking on the kettle, rather than grabbing Martha by the arm and pulling her upstairs before her mom can say anything else. Which is what she had done with the Heathers and only just stopped doing with JD. But being self-conscious in front of Martha would be like being shocked that you failed a test you didn’t study for.

“Oh, Ronnie some mail came for you while you were at school,” her mom says, gesturing to the two brown envelopes on the kitchen table.

The word ‘mail’ comes with its own siren. And a flashing light. Big, red light that blinds her even from behind her eyelids. She only just manages to save the mugs from being dropped. Martha’s eyes meet hers and she finds the same wide-eyed anxiety reflected back at her.

“Ronnie?” her mom asks. “Everything okay? I didn’t open them. They just seem important.”

“I’m fine, Mom,” she says, pushing her hair away from her face with a shaking hand. “I’ll-I’ll get them thanks.” She crosses over to the table as normally as she can and picks them up.

The seals of Duke and Brown are looking back up at her.

“Are you going to open them?” Martha asks, taking a sip from her mug before putting it on the desk. Veronica sits cross-legged on her bed, forgetting about her nails and biting her knuckles instead. “I can wait in the bathroom if you want.”

“No. I don’t know,” she says, not sure which part of Martha’s question she’s answering. She falls back onto her bed, holding the two envelopes above her. They’re thinner than she thought they’d be. Maybe that’s a good thing. Or not. Maybe they’re thin because all they need to say is “you got in”. But if she got in they’d have sent orientation packs and welcome brochures and a schedule. Or maybe they send them later. Or maybe they’re thin because all they need to say is ‘no’.

“Veronica,” Martha says gently. “I don’t know if you know, but it’s been seventy five seconds and you haven’t moved.” She turns onto her side, Martha half-visible behind the Duke envelope. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Sorry,” she sighs, putting them on her table and shaking out her arms. “It’s just… my whole future is in those two envelopes.”

“Whole future?” Martha echoes, pulling her hands over her sleeves. “You really think that?”

“Kind of. A bit. Yeah.” She heaves a sigh, her chest pressing into the mattress. “Completely.” She turns onto her back, holding the letter in slightly-shaking hands. How long would it take to read? A minute? Maybe less. Everything she’s been dreaming about since she set foot in Westerberg high school is in that letter.

“That’s pretty fatalistic,” Martha comments weakly. Veronica hums in agreement, putting the envelopes on her table and sitting back up, facing Martha and her raised eyebrows. “So you’re not opening them?”

“I don’t know,” she sighs. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“Hey,” Martha says, coming over to her side and taking her hand. “If you don’t get in… you know it’s not the end of the world, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” she replies. Her mom and even her teachers have said that, in between their lectures about how important getting into a good college is. It’s given her whiplash. She squeezes Martha’s hand tighter. The one thing that’s never changed as she got older, or at least kept changing with her. They used to think they were going to do everything together, go to the same college and work in the same town and marry best friends and their kids would be best friends and they’d live next door to each other. They don’t think that now, of course. They know better. Doesn’t mean she can’t wish they would. Veronica swallows past the lump in her tight throat. “We won’t change right? If-when we go to college?” She squeezes Martha’s hand tighter. “We’ll still be best friends, right?” The question feels stupid, the idea of a world where Martha isn’t her friend alien to her, but it pushed itself out of her, fuelled by a bout of insecurity and the lingering fear of opening the envelope.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” she asks, a slight laugh in her voice. She turns Veronica around so that she faces her head-on, a determined belief shining in her eyes, the kind that makes Veronica remember how much she loves her. How could she ever have traded that unwavering faith for popularity and parties? “Look, I’m always going to love you. Even when you’re off in North Carolina drinking tea with your professors. Always.” She holds up her hand, little finger stuck out. Shoulders shaking with laughter, Veronica wraps her own baby finger around hers.

“And you can never break a pinky promise,” she says.

“Never.” Martha raises her right hand in a three fingered salute. “Girl Scout’s honour for good measure.” Veronica once again mirrors her friend, their friendship solidified in the two most ironclad agreements known to man. “Now that we’ve cleared that, can you please open that envelope so I can stop waiting? You’re giving me heart palpitations over here.” Nodding and half-laughing, Veronica lifts the two envelopes from her table.

Two letters, two minutes, right?

Dear Miss Veronica Sawyer, she reads, the words just underneath the Dule University Seal. We are pleased to offer you a place in our undergraduate program for law-

“OH MY FREAKING GOD!”

Veronica throws her arms around Martha, sagging against her in a combination of relief and… well, shock. Shock that her dreams are now in her hand-literally, in her hand-and she doesn’t have to keep daydreaming about the smoky cafes and leaving Sherwood, Ohio in the dust.

In the back of her mind, she wonders why she isn’t as happy about that as she expected.

Still, she and Martha fall back onto the bed together, all giggles and flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. Every time one calms down, the other is set off, the light, musical sound erupting from both of them until they seem to exhaust themselves and are laying on the backs in a cloud of their own joy. Veronica holds the letter against her chest, panting weakly, and she grabs Martha’s hand with the other.

“Should go without saying,” Martha says breathlessly. “But I’m so proud of you.” She squeezes her hand warmly. “All that studying finally paid off.”

“Yeah,” she breathes, the letter still folded in half and clutched between her hands. She opens it up and smooths out the wrinkles and tries to read it in full, even if her eyes keep snapping back up to the opening sentences. Her brain vaguely registers start dates and dorm rooms and the long proud history of blah blah blah… She can read over all that later. Right now she’s punching the air, drumming her legs on the bed and humming a nonsensical song under her breath, her body squirming like the happiness is going to burst out of her in an explosion of rainbow coloured glitter and cover her walls.

Beside her, Martha lays her head on her cheek on her shoulder. Despite the smile on her face, Veronica feels her stiffen and it brings her right back down to Earth. A cold sensation creeps over her, beginning in her chest, not so much that she panics, but enough to cover up the clouds she was dancing on.

“Hey,” she says, poking Martha’s cheek. “You good?”

“Of course,” she says in false confusion. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because of your face,” she replies, tapping Martha’s nose. “Hey, what is it?” Her hair ruffles as Martha sighs deeply.

“It’s just… now you’ve got yours… it’s making this all real.” She closes her eyes and lets out a sigh. “Reminds me how haven’t got mine yet.” She shakes her head, giving a smile that doesn’t come close to reaching her eyes. “I’ll probably get mine soon anyway.”

“And there will be a big fat yes when you do,” Veronica says. She wraps her hand around Martha’s hand and squeezes tightly. “You’ve been in that library more than me.”

“Mainly because you and JD took quite a few breaks.” She wiggles her eyebrows, one word loaded with implication that’s not entirely untrue. At least she’s past the stage where she blushes at those.

“Oh, and your and Heather’s tutoring sessions were strictly schoolwork-only?” she teases. Unlike herself, Martha’s cheeks flush red, her mouth opening and closing. Veronica giggles into her bedsheets. “Trust me. Colleges are going to be tripping over themselves to let you in. And hand you scholarships.”

“Thank you,” she says, smiling softly and rubbing her thumb against Veronica’s hand. “Can we go back to being happy for you?”

“Just a little bit,” she says. “We’ll be fully happy when you get yours.”

And there’s that feeling again, right in the back of her mind. If nothing else, this is a convenient excuse. She’s not as happy as she should be, only because her best friend is still waiting for hers. Nothing else outside of that she tells herself, the acceptance letter still folded between her fingers and poking slightly at her wrist.

                                                                                            *****

When she wakes up the next morning, that feeling is almost forgotten. The letter sits on her bedside table, placed back inside the envelope, the slight rip and crumpled edge the only giveaway that it was ever opened to begin with.

Her parents’ joy is tangible as she enters the kitchen, her mother’s pride buzzing in her fingers as she squeezes Veronica’s shoulders and her father’s delight evident in the way his eyes light up as he hands her her breakfast. As for Veronica, she fights between the growing pride in herself and her own well-worn and familiar modesty, if she can call it that. Still, she lets herself smiles at the praise and embrace the proud, shining gaze of her parents before leaving. Her dad even puts in a pat in her head before she manages to sneak out the door, something she hasn’t felt since she was single digits. She laughs it off, not bothering to fix any damage done to her hair.

As per usual, JD is sitting on the wall in the front yard when she gets to school, one leg up on either side of it and a book in his hands. She comes up behind him in a similar way, her body pressed against him. Months ago he may have jumped, now her touch is so familiar to him that he shifts forwards to make room for her once he feels it. She presses against his back and reaches forwards to trace the outline of the page he’s on.

Truth be told, she’s unexpectedly anxious, a small flame slowly but steadily building in her chest since she spotted him. Behind him, she grabs the butterfly pendant around her neck, the cool metal calming her. It’s weird; they’ve been through more than she thought they would be as a couple. She spent more time than she would care to admit daydreaming about her future romance one day, especially in the first few months of high school. And she knew from TV and from her own life that it wouldn’t be all butterflies and rainbows and sunshine, and thought herself well-prepared for those days, ready for fights and disagreements. She hadn’t prepared herself for the hard talks in the courtyard that she and JD had had, about therapy and his mom and things she had only read in books. But they had them, and she likes to think she came out of them the better person, however difficult and scary they were in the moment.

And yet she is still nervous about this. Something every other half-of-a-couple in her school has had to deal with or will at some point. She can’t tell if she’s more excited to share or more anxious about… well she’s not quite sure. Of something changing, she guesses  

“Hey,” she whispers, her cold fingers creating circles in the fabric of his shirt. “So… something happened yesterday.”

“Something?” he repeats, sliding his bookmark in and closing the book. “That’s cryptic.”

“It was… fairly big.” He nods and swings his leg around so he can face her. She feels like the butterfly from her necklace is sitting in her heart and flapping its little wings as hard and fast as it possibly can. And despite the mounting nerves, she’s smiling, and he is too.

“What was it?” he asks.

“JD… I got into college.” Her smile grows over her face like an external force is tugging on the corners of her face. JD’s mouth falls open ad he lets out a delighted gasp. “It was Duke. Duke and Brown, but Duke was my first choice.”

“Ronnie,” he says. “That’s amazing.” He takes her with him as he stands and pulls her into a tight hug, a kiss pressed to the side of her temple. Her legs go weak in his embrace and it’s she melts into him, sighing. Stupidly happy, that’s what she feels right now. Kind of an oxymoron, but hey, a lot of great stories are built on contradiction. “I am so proud of you.” He rubs their noses together playfully. “I knew you’d do it.”

“Thank you,” she whispers. “I’m just so glad all this is over. All the stupid waiting around.”

“So a few months from now, can I brag to people that my girlfriend is a super genius who goes to Duke?” he asks as their hands clasp together and start walking into a building.

“Brag to who?” she replies. “You can’t brag to Martha because I already told her, so that only leaves Heather.”

“I can brag to people in the store. And to Claire,” he tells her. “Oh God she’s probably going to be even prouder than I am.”

“I don’t know if I should be flattered or insulted by that.”

“Hey, I couldn’t be prouder that you if I tried,” he says, punctuating his point with a kiss to her cheekbone. “But Claire has a lot of proud parent energy she can’t always channel into me.” He swings their hands between them as he bits his lip slightly, an idea springing to life in his head. “I’m going to buy you a victory cupcake at lunch.”

“You don’t need to buy me a cupcake,” she sighs.

“It’s not just a cupcake,” he replies. “It’s a victory cupcake.” Veronica rolls her eyes, but the gesture doesn’t go any deeper than her face. This boy is a contradiction himself, the troubled bad boy/poetry lover who buys her cupcakes when she gets into college. “Or donut. Or cookie. Whatever you want and whatever the cafeteria has in stock.”

“If it’s a donut that shit better have sprinkles,” she tells him seriously. He laughs, plugging in his combination and opening his locker. Before he moves to take anything out or put anything in, he moves in and kisses her forehead with just a little more strength than they normally allow in the middle of the hallway. “Be proud of yourself.”

“I am proud,” she says indignantly. “More relieved than proud, but I’m proud.” He nods, taking her hand and walking her to her homeroom, grin never once leaving his face and his fingers moving minutely as he strokes the back of her hand. He rubs his cheek against her hair and tells her about his English essay and when they run into Heather he rather affectionately calls her ‘buttercup’. He and Veronica share a knowing look when Heather mentions that she was hoping to run into Martha earlier, and she groans at a dumb joke he makes,

It’s only when he opens the door that Veronica realises that one day, not too far away, she’ll be missing mornings like this.

                                                                                               ******

“Hey, JD?” A flash of yellow appears in his peripheral vision as Heather takes her place next to him at the very back of American history. At her arrival, he places his bookmark in between the pages and slips the book into his bag. Despite this being his second reading of, it’s taking him longer to get through it this time around. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did,” he says, only for Heather’s face to fall slightly. She’s almost constantly smiling, must be a cheerleader thing, but the way it falls and rises like a puppy’s ears is almost a clearer indication of her feelings than when she isn’t. “What’s up?”

“I just… how are you and Veronica going to do college?”

His first thought is that the question is way too deep for first period. He’s all for a good discussion (especially when it comes to his relationship, since it turns out the only things keeping him from rambling out his thoughts to Claire are self-preservation, a small shred of dignity and some compassion for her) but the question Heather posed is a little too much too soon. And if he’s honest...

“I… we haven’t talk about it,” he decides is the right way to put it. It’s not incorrect and is certainly much better than ‘well I don’t know, we never really thought about it’.

Except now he is.

Thanks, Heather, he thinks.

“Oh…” she says. “Sorry, I was just asking because… see me and Martha don’t know what we’re going to do when she goes away to college and I go wherever I go.”

“Still not convinced you’re getting in?” She shakes her head, lips rolled into a tight line. Despite the B+ quiz tucked in the back of her folder. “I wouldn’t count you out yet, Mac.”

“Thanks. I just want to be ready for whatever,” she says with feigned nonchalance. “And you’re not planning on going anywhere, right?”

“Right,” he says, even if the word feels clumsy and uncomfortable in his mouth. It’s more of a habitual answer than a truthful one.

“Do-do you ever worry about the long distance stuff?” Heather asks him. “I mean, I don’t really worry. I just think about it a lot sometimes.”

“I don’t know,” he says. “I-I guess not. I didn’t really-” He bites his lip, drumming his fingers on the table. He didn’t really think he’d be around post-graduation. That’s what he means. He never expected any of this to last, Claire, Sherwood, Veronica, anything. He assumed he’d be sent off to another placement after his time here was up. This degree of certainty is alien to him, however much it might mean to him. This is the adjustment period. Still, he won’t say that. Too deep for this hour, and, much as he likes her, for Heather. So he shrugs his shoulders instead. “I didn’t really think about it before now.”

“Oh,” Heather says, disappointment evident. She tugs on the sleeve of her jacket as she looks away from him. Rows in front of them her old friends sit on their desks, heads clustered together in conversation.

“I hope we can do it though,” he adds, grabbing her attention again. “The long distance thing. I want to do it. I think we can.” It’s not an empty thought. He’s grown used to communicating by letters and long distance phone calls or even emails, even if it’s just correspondence with old foster siblings or his social workers. He grins to himself as it grows clearer in his mind, the two of them on opposite sides of a phone, drinking in the details of each other’s day, her in a college sweater and him in his pyjamas back in his room.

“You do?” she asks, the corners of her own mouth turning up.

“Of course I do,” he replies.

“Me too,” she says. “Not with Veronica. With Martha. But I still want to do like… long distance friendships too. With you too.” He huffs out a laugh but understands. For the first time, the crap teachers have spewed at every school he’s been to about ‘you’ll miss it when you’re gone’ resonate with him. Even if it’s just about three people. But he’s also grown used to missing people and that’s definitely a habit he wants to break.

                                                                                               *****

The new outside activities aren’t just confined to lunch. The sunshine and dry ground means the after school cheerleading practice is moved outside too. According to her girlfriend, Coach thinks that the jocks, practicing just across the field, will be the happiest kids in the state right about now. And while they certainly do seem to appreciate it, Martha suspects she might just take that title. How can she not be, sitting on in the bleachers with a book in her hands and the sun on her face while she waits for Heather to finish, and sneaking glances at her every now and then, watching her flip perfectly and kick her legs in that little skirt and her golden curls being lit up by the sun and flying behind her like a flag.

Sometimes she’s amazed that she never noticed Heather in that way before.

The girl in question bounds up to her almost the minute the Coach dismisses them, resting her chin on her shoulder, the rest of the student body too wrapped up in each other to notice how Martha’s hand wraps around hers.

“You did great today,” she tells her.

“You think so?” she asks.

“Definitely.” Heather grins and takes a look out over the emptying sports field. Martha used to hate this place and part of her still does, the ghosts of ‘Dumptruck’ echoing in her mind from when she ran laps around the field. But now she can tune those out, even if it takes some effort sometimes, as long as she’s with the right people. Two people to be exact and one of them is lazily rubbing her back.

“Coach likes you,” Heather says. “She likes when you come down to watch practice.”

“She said that?” Martha asks sceptically.

“Yeah,” she says. “Well, no. Well, sort of. She said she likes when people watch us. And she thinks you’re sweet for supporting me.”

“So she knows I’m watching?” she asks. “Guess I’m not as subtle as I thought.” She turns to face her, half-laughing. “Well, I’ll always support my special friend.” They chuckle together; ‘special friends’ is apparently what Heather’s mom refers to gay couples as, and they’ve since turned it into both a cover story and a private joke. The first word, at least, Martha would definitely apply to Heather.

Heather heaves a sigh next to her, the motion on her back drifting away from nonchalant and towards anxious.

“Are you okay?” she asks, running her thumb over her knuckles. She nods quickly, her hair bobbing with her, and it indicates the opposite of what it intends. Still, Martha doesn’t press, instead she presses a quick kiss to her head, thankful the field is deserted, and traces circles on the back of her hand, changing direction every once in a while as Heather’s breathing evens out beside her. Just as she begins to maybe pry a little, it’s Heather who opens her mouth, and what she says nearly knocks her off the bleachers.

“Are we going to do the whole long distance thing?”

“Long distance thing?”

“When you go off to college,” she explains. “And I go… somewhere. Is that what we’re going to do or should we break up before college?”  She winces at the last part. “I-that’s what my cousin did with her high school boyfriend.”

“Is that what you want?” she asks tentatively. Insecurity comes to her like an old friend, a friend she no longer wants around, but whose presence is so familiar she’s already listening to it.

“Oh my God, no!” Heather gasps, eyes going wide. She grasps Martha’s shoulders, tension burning in her fingers. “No I do not want to break up before college. Or after college!”

“O… Okay,” she sighs, a little relieved and a little startled. “Then we won’t. Break up I mean.”

“Really?” she squeaks, biting her lip as a smile takes over her face. “Really?”

“Yeah, really,” she promises. “I mean, if you want to, I want to.”

“I do,” she replies firmly. “I really, really do.”

“Okay.”  Grinning, Heather nuzzles into her shoulder as they look out on the expanse of grass and track in front of them, leading out to the doll-sized houses and stores beyond. Up this high, they’re not just students, they’re giants. Heather’s hand slides into hers and she gives it a gentle squeeze.

“I wonder what would have happened if we’d figured this… us out before now,” Heather remarks.

“Yeah,” she agrees a little sadly. She tries not to dwell on wishes too much anymore, but if she did have a fairy godmother who could grant them, she’d ask for more time with Heather. More time being herself, this version of herself. Maybe if she had known a year ago, maybe if Heather had been different a year ago. Who knows where they’d be now?

They only go inside when the parking lot starts emptying, knowing someone was coming soon enough to lock the gate. While the prospect of having Heather all to herself with a view like this and all this space isn’t unappealing, the heart attack she’d give her mother and the explanations she’d eventually have to give do. They end up sitting on the front steps, not quite the same feeling as being on top of the bleachers. Up there everything looks perfect, picturesque emerald grass and the town looks painted in. Here she can see the trash blowing around in the gentle breeze and knows the graffiti that’s scrawled just around the corner. It’s too real.

Still, Heather is stroking her hair as they talk nonsense and that’s more than enough to make this place work for her.

Her hand brushes against Martha’s just as the door opens and then it drop like a stone in a lake. Two people clad in heels come down the stairs, slowing down as they pass them, the red and the green coming into their vision.

“Heather,” Duke greets coldly. Moments pass without so much as an acknowledgement of Martha. It’s fair, she supposes. All else aside, they were friends, which isn’t a claim Martha has. Not since kindergarten anyway.

“Heather,” she replies, her voice so steady that Martha’s not sure the trembling hand on her leg could belong to the same body.

Behind Duke, Chandler looks down, her arms crossed over her chest. From the neck down, she’s every inch the iron queen of their school, clad in her red blazer, her shadow falling over them and the red scrunchie peeking on her wrist. However, her face is a carefully constructed snarl that’s nearly convincing… except for the way she bites her cheek and how her eyes jump from Heather to Martha to the ground. And how her mouth seems to be on the verge of opening, only to be sealed up again at the last moment. Despite having gone to school with her every day for thirteen years, she doesn’t look familiar at all. Despite her height, despite the way she looms over the two of them, she looks small.

“Come on,” Chandler says, shaking Duke’s shoulder a little. Up until now, Duke’s face had been the opposite of Chandler’s, a hardened mask fixed in one slightly annoyed grimace that’s a staple of their school life at this point. But at Chandler’s command, the cracks appear and she looks as foreign as Heather Chandler did. She obeys and follows at Chandler’s heels down the steps, but not before stalling for a moment, eyes landing on her Heather. Ten years seems to disappear from her for that one moment, and suddenly she’s Heather who clutched a Barbie doll and inched closer to Martha to ask to play.

“Hey,” Chandler snaps, waiting for Duke at the bottom of the steps. “Let’s go. They’re not worth it.”

“Agreed,” Duke replies and she quickens her pace to meet her, neither one of them looking back.

Heather’s looking after them though, her hand fidgeting in her lap. There’s a wistfulness in her gaze that Martha’s making a conscious effort not to be jealous of. Instead she reaches out and takes her restless hand in hers, pulling her back from wherever she is.

“Can I ask you something?” she asks quietly, before she can lose nerve.

“Sure.”

“Do you… do you ever miss them?” she asks, nodding in the direction of their disappearing classmates. Heather blinks, a little unsettled by her question, but despite the apologetic look she gives her, Martha can’t really bring herself to regret asking it. Even if she wishes she’d maybe saved it for later.

“I… don’t know,” she says after a while. “I mean I was friends with them for a really long time. Maybe not friends, okay no. See, I don’t really know.”

“It’s okay,” she says, running her hand through her hair. “I get it. It’s complicated.”

“I think… I don’t like the Heather I was with them,” she admits, turning to Martha. The setting sun bathes her in a delicate golden glow, but even without it, she’d still glow in her own right. Especially now with the way her eyes shine with sincerity and the smile that says so much despite being so small. She cups Martha’s cheek with her hand, her fingertips just meeting her hair. “I like the Heather I am with you. And Veronica. Even JD. That’s what I know.”

Martha hugs Heather tightly, guiding her head to the crook of her neck and squeezing her shoulders carefully. She could tell her that she feels the same, that she knows Heather made her better, that she’s braver and wiser because of her love. She could do that, and she will, one day, hopefully soon. But she doesn’t need to now and it’s beautiful. Now, all she needs and wants to do is hold her girlfriend and silently agree with her; she really likes this Heather.

                                                                                               *****

On Friday evening, Veronica is curled in the biggest chair in the living room, hands gripping the wides and legs poised to jump out. Her body twitches involuntarily each time a car that is even remotely close to silver comes into view, only for them to pass by without a glance. Taking advantage of the good weather, longer days and break in the school work, she and JD plan to take a walk around the park to let off steam.

“What’s this thing he had after school?” her mom asks.

“Just a doctor’s appointment,” she replies, crossing her fingers behind her back. She’s not ashamed, not of anything about him, but it’s also not her story to tell and she notices how he stiffens when Heather or Martha ask what he has planned the occasional Friday. She taps her knuckles against the change in her jacket pocket, she and JD intending to hit the small candy store on the corner before the park.

Another silver car comes around the corner and she slowly unfolds herself as it steadily drives down the road before bursting into a relieved grin when it stop outside her house, the passenger door opening.

“Okay I’m out!” she announces, swinging around the living room door.

“Are you sure he doesn’t want to come in for a minute?” her mom asks, following her out of the living room and leaning against the wall. “I’m making a pot roast.”

“Yep, we’re good,” she replies hastily, opening the front door. Down at the car, JD is probably having a similar conversation, only with far less withheld smothering. The sight of him talking to her so easily makes her slow down a little, a prickle of guilt in her chest, small, but present. She turns around and gives her own mom a smile. “Thanks Mom, but we just want to get out for a bit. I won’t be late, see you later.”

“Okay.” Her mom’s shoulders relax and she nods, smiling back at her. “Have fun, honey.”

Even though she saw him mere hours ago, she gives JD a light hug just as Claire is pulling out away from the kerb, and he responds in kind, adding in a kiss to her hair. She didn’t quite miss him, they’re not like that, but they’re far more free outside school, even with their moderate disregard for the PDA rules.

“Come on,” she says, lacing her fingers through his and pulling him along, making him laugh softly. His lose curls fall forwards over his forehead and dance in the light breeze. He twirls her around under his arm and pulls her closer to wrap his arm around her as they head to the store.

With candy in hand and miniature soda bottles in pockets, they stroll through the park together, Veronica’s arm linking through his and her cheek resting on his shoulder. While the park isn’t quite as full as it would be in the height of summer, they are fairly far from alone too, small kids running past them or wobbling on bikes with parents chasing after them, panic in their eyes despite their fond smiles. The pond glitters golden in the setting sun, families of ducks and ducklings splashing and flapping and creating ripples on the otherwise still water.

They find a spot on a grassy slope where they can looking over everything with the sun at their backs. Ever the gentleman, he even spreads his jacket out for her to sit on. They sit hip to hip, their little candy stash poised carefully between them and their drinks, lemonade for her, cherry Coke for him, cooling their legs.

She leans back on her elbows to stretch out her back tilts her head back, eyes closed, letting the sun warm her face. JD spies an opportunity and sneaks in, dropping a kiss on her lips without warning, not that he would need one, and sneaks an apple flavoured lace from her.

“Jerk,” she says with feigned annoyance, even if she’s giggling. “You owe me.”

“M&M or chocolate?” he asks.

“M&M.” She pulls herself forwards and kneels up to find him on one knee, green candy between his thumb and index finger and face screwed up in concentration. “You will not get that.”

“Want to bet?” he teases. “I bet you a cheek smooch that I can get this in your mouth on the first try.”

“Deal,” she agrees, rolling her eyes. She opens her mouth, only to let out an annoyed squeak when he moves over and lowers her head. “Cheat.”

“I’m making it more fair. Now come on, stay still.”

The candy bounces off her cheekbone and rolls across the grass, the impact just a step above nothing. Still, she laughs, falling back onto the grass and looking at him

“Pay up,” she sings.

“With pleasure,” he says dropping a swift kiss to her cheek. Giggling smugly, she lets him pull her up into a sit, her fingers stroking the inside of his arm, their foreheads close to touching. There’s a warm, slightly breathless feeling in her chest, one that she’s grown slightly used to and would like to get more used to. Butterflies, maybe, but they’re calm now. Like they’re flapping their little wings slowly and serenely in her chest. Breathless, but the good kind.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” he begins, looking down at his hands. She looks at him, listening and expectant, but his voice just trails off.

“You going to tell me what you were thinking of?” she asks, hoping to bring him back on track. “Or am I just going to have to guess.”

“Sorry,” he says, laughing a little. “Just… still thinking about it, I guess.” She runs her hand down his arm and takes his, lacing their fingers together.

“Want to let me in?” He nods, dimples forming in his cheeks as he grins. His free hand taps on his knee, his fingers moving in an agitated rhythm.

“It’s a little crazy.”

“I’m all for crazy,” she tells him.

“But… you know how I always said I don’t want to go to college? How I don’t see the point in it and all that crap?” She nods and he takes a deep breath in, his eyes lighting up as they meet her. His excitement passes from him to her as she slowly starts to see where he’s going. “Well, just you and your getting in and Martha and Heather, it all got me thinking… what if I actually went? Not this year, I mean I can’t, but next year. Do some volunteering and maybe retake a test or two and start applications and give it a real try.” He bites his lip sheepishly. “Is that dumb?”

“Dumb?” she echoes. “J, that’d be amazing!”

“Really?”

“Really!” she squeaks.

“I was thinking about majoring in English,” he explains, kneeling up, one hand gesturing wildly and the other holding onto her with a tight grip, his hand shaking a little, like his blood is buzzing. The words flow out of him one after the other with no break, almost leaving him panting. “You know? I mean, I’m good at it, according to all my assignments. I don’t think I want to be a writer or anything like that and definitely not a teacher, but maybe like a Professor or something. Or an editor.”

“You’d be amazing at that,” she tells him, cupping the side of his face. She touches her forehead to his, nuzzling into him, his shoulders shaking under him as he laughs. “When did you figure all this out?”

“Well…” He scratches behind his ear. “I sort of… I guess I always knew I wanted it. To go study poetry somewhere. But I never thought I could. I never thought I’d have some sort of permanent place with someone to get me through it.” He sighs, his eyes shining. “But now I do.”

Claire Veronica thinks. The woman who isn’t his mother but is the next best thing. He told her the next day at school with wide, slightly red eyes and an expression that was half-joy, half-disbelief, like he was expecting to wake up from this. All she could do was hug him as tight as she knew how to and tell him how happy she was for him, even if she could never understand how huge this is. And that’s okay with her. All she needs to know is that this means pretty much everything to him.

Veronica doesn’t really like thinking about what would have happened if she hadn’t adopted him, and he doesn’t like talking about it, so it had worked out well. Losing him once was bad enough, and that was when she was a kid and only loved him half as much as she does now. Now all she can do is be grateful she never has to think about that again. And be glad that he has someone forever now.

She leans in and kisses him, tasting cherry Coke and sugar on his lip, his joy infectious and making her dizzy. He pecks at her lips playfully until she tilts her head and slides her hand into his hair, murmuring contended nothings against him.

“Hey, Ronnie?” he asks.

“Mm-hm?”

“About college…” The initial bliss fades a little, not enough to disappear completely, but she feels the change in the air. She delicate touches the dimple on his cheek with her fingertip. “I just… are we going to do that long distance thing?”

“Long distance?” she echoes.

“Yeah,” he says. “I mean… you’re going to be in North Carolina, and much as I’d like to I doubt the Dean would let me come with you. I know some high school couples break up before college, but I don’t-I want to do it long distance. I think we can.” He shrugs, his eyes meeting hers with an unfamiliar insecurity in them. “I’m up for it if you are.”

She shakes her head at him, huffing out a laugh and pushes his hair away from his face, looking right into his eyes and making him do the same. Truthfully, she had thought about them post-high school, and she had worried up until a few days ago, when Martha calmed her fears about them. Now she just looks back in embarrassment, as if she’d ever let 600 miles shake the two things she loves most.

“Jason Dean,” she sighs, enjoying the taste of his name, his real name, on her lips. “I could go to college in Mars and still want to be with you.” His cheek shifts against her hand as he breaks out into a grin. “So yes, dumbass. I want to do the long distance thing with you. I always thought I would. Even if it means staying up to 2am to talk to you and racking up Claire’s phone bill beyond all recognition.”

“You might want to talk to her about that,” he whispers, laughter lacing the edges of his voice. He pulls her into another kiss, longer and deeper than the last one, occasionally interrupted by their contented chuckling. They fall back onto the ground, the soft grass tickling their faces, their hands clasped between them. JD looks at her, his mouth half open and his eyes bright. He pushes her hair back and traces her jaw, his thumb poking at her cheek.

“I’m so glad I met you,” he tells her quietly, his voice shaking a little. She presses a kitten-like kiss to the inside of his wrist.

“First or second time?” she teases.

Grinning, he takes her clasped hand and brings to her fingers to his lips to kiss it. A warm current sweeps through her body and her hands tingle, reminding her of the fairies weaving magic in her old picture books. Like there’s magic in his touch that can make her glimmer and shine.

“First,” he replies with more certainty in his voice than she’s ever heard before.

[thefloatingstone]

The whole “they’re just evil” is ableist too though. It’s basically saying well, we thought they were mentally ill, but no, they’re just evil. Similar to how people will say “you’re not depressed, you’re just lazy.” And the whole “evil child” trope can be dangerous. Some child abusers “justify” their actions by framing their neurodivergent (mentally ill, mentally disabled, autistic, etc) child as being evil or unnatural. “creepy” behaviours in movies are common in ppl that are neurodivergent.1/2

I think what it comes down to is that the horror genre is about intent in its subject matter.

The reason I like horror is because when horror is done well, it represents very clearly the fears and paranoias of the era the movie was made in.

Early horror movies (before the hayes code) had a LOT of subtext where the big fear usually was caught up in sex in some way or another. And not in an exploitative way. Movies like Cat People and Dr. Jekyl and Mrs Hyde are to do with young people who are engaged and, because it’s the 30s, are not sexually active with each other yet, but they WANT to be. And a lot of early horror has to do with sexual repression.

And then you have zombie movies which came into their own after Night of the Living Dead in 1969 and became a genre in the 70s. Zombie movies being a cultural fear of losing control of yourself and getting assimilated into a group which is slowly devouring your way of life. This can be a metaphor for immigrants, other religions, a change in social climate and old societal structures no longer being embraced by the younger generation (Zombie movies became super popular in the 70s, after the Vietnam war which was extremely protested by the younger generation, as well as racial tensions in the US rising as African Americans were coming more freely in society following the abolishment of America’s segregation in the 60s)

But some horror movies deal with fears which are universal and not contained in one one era. The fear of death is a big one but rather vague in of itself. And when framed in a movie can be rather shallow (like a slasher movie) or very deep and complex (like Jacob’s ladder or Masque of the Red Death). Other universal fears are things like war, home invasion by a criminal, being hunted (either by an animal or another human), the unknown (this often taking the form of “evil” in terms of ghosts and demons and possession etc etc), one’s own body succumbing to disease (which is where body horror comes from) and the loss of control of oneself (this is where mind control and possession and other dehumanising tropes are used, although these can cross over into the trope of cultural tension. The Invasion of the Body Snatchers is all about loved ones being replaced with unknown enemy creatures and was made (twice) during the US’ cold war with Russia)

One of the great universal fears is the concept of not being in control of one’s own mind. It doesn’t matter if you’re neurotypical or have a form of mental illness, the core concept of losing yourself to your own mind is a horrific one (and I mean this in terms of the concept, not the reality) so I feel horror movies that deal with this trope WELL, understand how to channel that fear into an effective story that resonates with its audience, regardless of who they are. However, this is VERY different than the much easier and lazier method of just claiming a bad guy is “crazy”. Because the neurotypical audience will still nod and go “yes it is very scary to think of people being crazy like that or even of myself losing my mind. That is a scary thought.” but it does NOT use the trope with the complexity and depth it needs to properly express that dark fear.

The other great fear, and one used FAR less frequently in horror movies simply because it is disturbing, is the innate fear parents have that a baby who they wish to love could have “something wrong with it.” not out of stigmatism, but because (most often) parents wish for the best for their children, and the concept of a child having a problem the parents can’t fix is terrifying. This is where movies like Eraserhead come from, however it also ties into the fear of mental illness.

There is also the thing that having mental illness within the bad guy character gives to horror but which is not only reserved for mental illness, and this is where the “evil” explanation comes from; and that is the horror that comes from the idea that a bad person is not someone you can recognise in the street as a threat. That you cannot see someone and immediately go “oh well they have horns so I KNOW they’re dangerous!” but that threat and danger and harm can hide in the nicest, kindest, most ordinary looking people. In modern times we now know you don’t need mental illness to be a threat and look normal, but I feel this is why mental illness is often used.

This brand of horror is also very important because it asks the audience “what is the difference between the person in the movie doing terrible things, and you, the audience member, who probably assumes themselves to be a good person?” Mental illness is a good answer to this because it gives the audience the uncomfortable thought of “if I had the same mental struggles, would I be doing terrible things like this too? What makes me “a good person”? Am I any different than the bad guy at all?”

Horror is a good genre because it shines a light on fears and insecurities and paranoias of human beings. Either culturally, or psychologically. And I feel the problem is that so often complex ideas and reasons BEHIND the horror is lazily boiled down to “oh well they were just crazy. That’s all.” which makes the audience not have to worry about it because “oh of course. They’re just crazy. Not like me. I’m not crazy at all.”

But this is…. this is bad writing :/ and as the previous post said (if you are the same anon) it is the using of the trope in a lazy way which reinforces itself as harmful. And you often see this in cheap horror movies who are NOT trying to say something about humanity’s deep rooted fears, but just want some teenagers to scream in the theater for 90 minutes at some fake blood and a “scary bad guy”.

I agree that modern movies should not reinforce bad stereotypes of mental illness as we often see in badly written lazy horror films, but I don’t think it’s a topic that should be untoucheable in terms of story telling. Because I feel then we deny a huge part of the human psychology.

hmmm…. how do I put this…..

Ok maybe this’ll make more sense.

Silent Hill 2 is a game where the entire subtext and plot is about depression. Without it being a plot point in any way, the game feels like it is trying to EXPRESS depression. And it expresses depression in the form of horror visuals both in terms of monsters and scenery. Depression is never mentioned and nobody talks about the symptoms of depression (not counting Angela’s suicidal thoughts but that’s not really the point here). Silent Hill 2 is a story about depression and fatal illness and suicidal thoughts. It is a game about the horror of those feelings… And you could even easily say the game even features a character with depression who is a murderer… but the game is not presenting depression as an “explanation”. But it is a game ABOUT depression. Through its visuals, sound design, atmosphere, music, it all builds together to present itself AS depression.

And I feel we need stories like that. It presents mental illness in a horrific light… but it’s… it’s different, you know? And I feel having the ability to tell horror stories about mental illness is important because then we can have stories like Silent Hill 2, which in a weird way becomes comforting if you’ve ever experienced depression. It’s like you go back to Silent Hill 2 when you’re in a depressive state and you just feel…. a little better? like “yes…. this is the emotion I am feeling. This is what it’s like. Somebdy else understands it, and this story resonates with me. And I am not alone.”

I know that is a completely different thing than what we were talking about regarding “bad guy characters in a horror movie have mental illness” but I feel it’s an important point…. because Silent Hill 2 is literally about a guy who killed someone and has a mental illness…. the difference is he’s not framed as a bad guy, but as sympathetic. WITHOUT condoning his actions.

And as for “evil” like “oh he’s not crazy he’s just evil”, I understand what you mean but I think of it more regarding either tied to religious beliefs which is a more personal fear and varies depending on who the person watching the movie is…. or the evil which is like…. Ted Bundy…. and I don’t really want to talk about that because it legit makes me incredibly uncomfortable.

(also Horror is AMONG my favourite genres or sub genres. But it depends on the film. But it’s a genre I legit am fascinated by, enjoy depending on the film, and have watched and read and own WAY too many books about).

A big function of horror movies is to acknowledge the fears humans carry within us, as well as the darker sides of humanity as a whole, and horror movies gives us a way to confront that, and not simply try to ignore it while it festers away in the back of our minds.

So it’s difficult because you can’t say “you can’t make a horror movie about x” because it ends up being more harmful than good…. but at the same time reinforcing stigmas that hurt oppressed groups is also something which should NOT be done.

This is why I tend to judge horror movies on a case by case basis X’D and also consider context, era, country of origin etc etc.

And it’s why I’m talking about this topic in such long posts. Because I feel it’s a complex problem.

But I fully agree we need a public ed campaign in teaching people about the context in which older horror movies were made and to understand how to be critical of their themes while still being able to be entertained by them.

….I didn’t even go into how monster movies like King Kong and Creature from the Black Lagoon are about cultural paranoias about people from different ethnicities and cultures “coming to steal our women”, and why you are seeing a lot more “monster fuckers” these days as our culture is slowly learning to be more empathetic to “those who are other”. Like…. I didn’t even go INTO that part of it.

…..I like horror u guys.

[fabulousquel]

GreedFall: Tips + My Review

So I picked up this game out of curiosity because I’m currently working on an RPG style historical fantasy that draws inspiration from a similar time period. I wanted to see how someone else handled the ‘flintlock’ genre and told a story with elements of this era. I am in no means a pro game reviewer but I completed the entire game yesterday and I have a lot I want to say.

There are some spoilers in this, so if you’d like to avoid reading them, don’t read the "Story” section. 

Tips:

Do your companion quests early and as soon as they pop up. There are some incredible lore bits and development of your character as well as your companions within them. Also if you sideline a companion for too long, they might leave your party in ways that might surprise or unsurprise you.

Certain dialog options will give you more quest content. For example, you’ve caught a criminal and you are given the choice to kill them on the spot, or capture them for trial. If you kill them, your quest line ends there. If you decide to trial them, another quest line opens up and you get a lot more flavor.

You can essentially just follow the main quest line if you want to speed-finish the game, but you lose a lot of context and additional dialog options if you do so. You will also wind up fighting the final boss at a much lower level, thus making the fight harder, but not impossible. They may have made this an option for people coming back wanting a challenge or to try a different build. But in my opinion, they should’ve made the side quests a mandatory thing because it’s a huge disservice to the context of the main story without them.

Don’t forget to give your companions gear upgrades- especially if you’re playing on more challenging modes.

If you want to avoid bloodshed and sneak into a camp, make sure you put on a chest piece of that faction. 

Put some skill points into Stasis no matter what build you roll with.

The Soundtrack:

It’s amazing. The snare drums going off in combat sequences create a very distinct and powerful mood. The zone music is very well orchestrated. It’s now up on spotify as well! 

Combat & Talents:

Of the RPGs I’ve played, this most reminded me of a combination of Red Dead Redemption, Final Fantasy with the option to semi-turn style with spells & traps, and a very versatile talent tree system that is really...fun. It’s the first time in a while that I felt I could make an effective solid build and playstyle around what I wanted to do most. Combat takes getting used to but I set up my keybinds to be a lot like ESO and I adapted very quickly. I went shortsword / gun tactical and it was immensely satisfying. 

The Story:

[SPOILS AHEAD]

The difference between historical fiction and historical fantasy is that a historical fantasy does not seek to retell history accurately, but rather take inspiration from it. How heavy this inspiration goes varies from story to story. This is how I approached interpreting the story, even in its very realistic parts. As I played through, there were several themes that became very clear to me. Keep in mind that I played through the game with De Sarde taking the Neutral Good alignment choice in most dialog options. 

The Elephant in the Room: Colonialism. This is one of the big criticisms I see with the game, and truth be told, it is a point of criticism for myself. The game treats the colonizing factions exactly like colonizers of real history, and it’s a subject that still rightfully touches nerves. One faction seeks to profit, another nation seeks to convert, and another seeks to experiment on. While there are subgroups of these factions that are more extreme than their leadership- the leadership seems complacent about it until condemning evidence is brought up. While extremely problematic this is, it is very true to what has happened in history surrounding colonialism, and places you in one uncomfortable situation after another in a frighteningly realistic way. It makes your decisions as De Sarde in some instances painful but it can be satisfying to see how your actions affect justice in these matters.

Some critics have said that De Sarde’s choices do not always condemn truly objectionable events enough. I agree that more depth could have been added. But in my playthrough, De Sarde’s role starts out as a truly neutral party looking for truths, and they gradually became more adamant on stances as the game progressed. By the end, my De Sarde was about to 1v1 Theleme, and drag out the Bridge Alliance governor. So I am unsure if this is a perspective coming from those who haven’t completed the game in its entirety with all side quests which influence reputations more & seem to flesh out more dialog options. 

Humanity Has a Sickness This was written both physically and metaphorically in how humans are as susceptible to committing atrocities as they are to growing ill. Throughout the story as De Sarde, you play almost a detective in uncovering the truth about the people you were raised to believe were benevolent. De Sarde does not take these accusations of corruption lightly, but they also treat it very seriously. Piece by piece, De Sarde learns more about each factions true intentions, and the lies, corruption and greed that intertwine. But at the same time, the story attempts to reveal the potential for all people to ‘do better’ and change- and some of this is seen when you use De Sarde’s charisma + intuition dialog options. This theme especially became clear in the arc when De Sarde finally gets to speak to the god of the island, En on mil Frichtimen, who expresses to him that the malicor (sickness) is a result of them poisoning their own land with their lack of care or concern for it.  En on mil Frichtimen urges that the colonists need to listen and learn from the Islanders’ ways if they wish to heal the sickness.

Where to Draw the Line at “For The Greater Good” I feel like this is a theme that crops up with any story involving Utopian ideas. GreedFall does a good job of backing up each faction’s actions with their point of view, whether it is morally misguided or not. This truly emphasizes the human element in the mix, underlining that no perspective comes without its flaws. As De Sarde, one thing you are constantly faced with as a detective is defining a line of where something has gone too far. It is sobering and somewhat frustrating to watch factions step over a line that could have easily remained morally sound. But it is also equally satisfying to see how much influence you can have in swaying others to make a different choice. This theme becomes the summit of De Sarde’s character progression when he is forced to make the choice of taking your dear cousin, Constantin, out of power, or joining him. And when you’ve done all the side quests there are in the game, the decision becomes far more meaningful than this just being the final boss fight.

This theme also seems to come full circle by the end of Petrus’s quest line, when you discover your true origin- how your mother was kidnapped from the island in a rash attempt to bring a healer to the continent. This realization that everything you’ve known has been a lie and kept secret from you...all for the “greater good”. 

Things I Liked:

I appreciated how much love and care went into the worldbuilding- especially with the native Islanders. From what I understand, a linguist was hired to write a language for them that was a mash-up of Flemish, Breton, Gaelic and Irish. I appreciated that they brought forth inspiration from the Gauls and Celtic nations of the Iron Age in Western Europe before they were subjected to Christian Missionary activity.

The art & atmosphere was amazing. While there are a few clipping issues with hair, even big AAA games have them. The level of detail put into the game art wise is just very visually pleasing.

The devs did a good job in making a fantasy world that was LGBTQ+ friendly, and giving us diverse character customization. Anyone from any faction had a diverse set of features.

Things I am Critical of:

While I understand that there is a point of growth to watch De Sarde go from neutral to invested in a cause, I really do think they should have been given less complacent responses earlier in the game. I understand limitations but I don’t think it helped with handling colonialism in a truly neutral way.

I wish you could start the game as someone from a faction of your choice, rather than only the Merchant Congregation, especially considering how your origin is written.

IT’S DEPRESSING. A lot of the game is depressing... which maybe makes all the little things you do that shine some shred of goodness still in humanity all the brighter. But it definitely hurt my soul in places and back to point #1, I wish I could have been more aggressive with De Sarde earlier in the game.

Recycled assets: there were quite a few of them- mostly noticeable with buildings in the main cities, which is probably what marks the difference between an AAA game and a more independent studio.

Potential Triggers:

There’s a lot of heavy subjects in this game including religious abuse, manipulation, some body horror (though it’s not super grotesque), one instance of suicide that I know of, xenophobia, and general violence. 

Features I Wish it Had:

You can’t ‘jump’...but you don’t really need to. I still wish I could though.

For all this beautiful scenery, I wish they gave us better screenshot taking options.

Different fights for the different Coin Arenas and a meta achievement for completing all of them.

I wish I could play it with friends.

More armor options!

I wish the companions had better and more in-depth romance options. They fall a little flat in diversity of personalities.

Final Thoughts:

I personally enjoy diving into stories that we should be morally critical of, and I like it for what it reveals in the best and worst of humanity. Colonialism has done and continues to do irreversible damage to peace and prosperity among people and nations in real life. Spiders picked a topic that nearly everyone has been affected by in one way or another and it’s understandably a heated subject. Some folks do not want to dive into such deep subjects, just as there’s some stories I cannot stomach comfortably. So I respect and understand that.

Overall, GreedFall exceeded my expectations but there’s definitely some hiccups. It’s a fun game if you’re into a detective-style RPG, political intrigue, history, and interested in exploring this sort of setting. While I think the story could have been written better in places, I was satisfied with the outcomes I triggered, even if that satisfaction took a very slow build up to. It left me feeling hopeful? That perhaps people still have a chance at treating each other better than they do.

[ravens-rambling]

Conclusion: Jumping in Leaves is quite...satisfactory

A/N: I literally just wrote this and I have no idea where it came from but let's just say this ship is slowly starting to grow on me. I seem to have a hard time writing Roman’s character so he may not be in character sorry about that. But hey its some monster au!!! I frickin adore writing this au so much you have no idea! 

Based off of this post from @yourhappypappypatton

Also inspired by @sanderssidesspook prompt challenge 

summary: Roman finds a way to baffle and confuse his boyfriend from time to time and its those times where he often wonders why he fell in love with this wolf-like man in the first place. That is until he looks at those red eyes and his manufactured heart beats out of control once again.

WC: 1,370

ships: Romantic Logince

warnings: None that I can think of? 

Tag List: @punsterterry  @frostedlover @fandydandyfanders @221b-quote (Since you two wanted to be tagged in this au!)

Logan has to admit that since being with Roman, a werewolf, he has never felt more alive.

Which was ironic to his eyes since he was made out of limbs and wasn't technically alive. But it was scary in a way with all the emotions that went through him whenever he was with the man.

After all just a few years ago he didn't feel..much of anything. Though when he looks back at it he supposes he felt a few emotions, sadness and loneliness, to name a few. But ever since Patton found him. Ever since he met Roman that fateful night, he's been feeling so many more emotions that sometimes it could be overwhelming. And honestly, he wasn't sure if any of these emotions were good or not.

True when he read up on romance and what humans experience when they are in love was very similar to what he feels like when he's with Roman he just wasn't sure.

One thing though that irritates him about the strange man was his hyperness. Sure Patton is always gitty and full with emotions but this man is always bouncing on his toes. Is always singing or dancing. Is always so full of himself it drives him up a wall some days. He was so full of unexpectedness that he wasn't sure how to handle it.

When he was alone he stuck to a schedule and never broke it. Even Patton understood his need for a schedule and let him be when he needed it.

But Roman on the other hand...wasn't like that. He let the wind take him. He didn't follow any rules or schedule. And it..baffled him on how somebody can live their life like that.

And that is how he was nearly dragged out of Patton's place and somehow ended up in a park on the verge of a headache and just about had enough of today already.

"Roman, can we go back now? I need to check up on some experiments and I would prefer them to not explode."

"Oh don't be dramatic! I'm sure none of them will explode. Come on I know you haven't been outside in a while learn to breathe and take in the scenery sometimes nerd!"

Logan huffed, "Fine whatever if it'll make this go by quicker I'll follow along..."

"I will take that! Now...where is that Starbucks you have to try the pumpkin spice lattes they have it is to die for."

Logan's eyebrow raised up, "I don't believe they would be to die for as that would cause panic and I don't want to be like Virgil any-"

"It's a metaphor, Logan. It means they are really good."

"Oh... Well, in that case, I don't need food of any kind so I don't know if I would really enjoy it.."

The look that Roman gave him could really only be described as puppy eyes causing him to fall under pressure, "But I'm sure it must be good if you think so. I'll try it."

Roman gave a smile and leaned over to kiss his cheek, "Thank you, Mi Amor!"

Logan's cheeks slowly started to burn as his breath was stolen from his lungs. As he stood there unable to process through those intense emotions he heard a loud gleeful laugh.

Shaking himself from his trance he looked up to find a very familiar brown wolf-like dog emerging from a pile of leaves. His eyes went wide as he whipped around them seeing if there was anybody around. Luckily they were up rather early in the morning and in the back of the park so nobody was here.

Running up to the dog he hissed, "What were you thinking Roman! You could have exposed yourself!"

Roman only laughed even louder and tossed some leaves at him, "Your starting to sound like Virgil. It's fine nobody's around right? And if somebody did see me they probably would have thought they were crazy or something."

When he was in his dog form his voice had a very bark-like quality to it, one that Logan could never take seriously. And right at this moment, he couldn't fathom what he was hearing, "Are... Are you kidding me?"

He groaned and rolled his eyes putting his face in his hands, "How have you not been exposed by now I have no idea..."

"It's fine Stitch A Lots now come on let's jump in that pile!" He pointed with his paw to another pile a few footsteps away.

Logan blinked at it then at him, "And why would I do that?"

"Because it's fun!"

"...fun? How is jumping into leaves any fun?"

"Because it just is okay! Jez why is painting any fun? I don't know it just is alright!" He huffed crossing his front paws.

Logan was hopelessly confused at this point and honestly even more done with this whole day then he was before. He sighed loudly standing up to his full height and rolled his eyes, "Listen if you want to have some pointless fun have at it, I'm going to my lab."

"Wait what no! You promised me you were gonna try the latte! Okay fine I'll change back and we could start heading there okay?"

Logan smiled faintly as he looked down to the distressed look on the wolf-like face. He really wasn't going to leave but it's fun to torment Roman every once in a while.

He looked up before seemingly thinking about it and shrugging, "I suppose so only if you promise not to transform then."

Roman looked at him like he just said no Disney for a full week.

"That's no fair!"

Logan smirked as he crossed his arms moving as if he was going to leave, "Okay then have fun by yourself."

He heard shuffling and looked over his shoulder to find a human Roman huffing and growling under his breath, "Fine are you happy now!"

The other walked up to him and kissed his cheek faintly, "Yes I am." He... He did that right, right?

He heard a low growl from the other then a snicker as he felt Roman's arms wrap around him, "I bet I can make you even happier."

"Oh, how so?"

"By doing this!"

He pulled him over to the other pile while Logan didn't even have a moment to gather what was happening they both were sent falling towards the leaves Roman's laughter once again going through the trees. Logan fell down with a yelp caught by surprise.

Logan blinked as the leaves scattered around them and getting into his clothes, a certain unexpected feeling going through him. Plus looking at the others red eyes glittering with happiness it sent more heat going through his face. All he could do was simply stare at Roman as his laughter died down and he looked back at him. As the silence grew Logan could see the slight worry in his eyes.

"Uh...Logan are you okay?"

"I...um.." He straightened his glasses slowly sitting up from the pile and Roman's arms coughing a bit to hide his what must be an awestruck and blushy face and to fix his glasses. "That was...more than satisfactory... I..think?"

He wasn't sure if this feeling was pleasant or not but it felt...good at least.

Roman sat up next to him and from the corner of his eye, he could see he was grinning ear from ear. "See I told you it was fun! There's another pile over there let's go!" He grabbed Logan's hand as he pulled him up to his feet and dragged him to another one.

His face was a bright red as he felt Roman's soft hand in his. As he looked at the joyful expression on Roman's face. As this feeling surged through him yet again.

And as he jumped in another pile a laugh escaped from him before he could pull it back earning a wide look from Roman. He's only laughed a few times in his life, none of them around the werewolf.

And he knew that it didn't make any sense but he could have sworn he saw literal hearts in the other's eyes as he tried to hide his face from shame.

[mubal4]

The Journal Journey Part 42

 Not gonna lie, been putting this one off for a couple of weeks because, “I’ve been busy!!!” – That is partially true but, I guess I may have been a bit intimidated because it is long, deep, and it was going to be a time investment.  Well, it is Sunday morning and since the Eagles have been painful to watch these last two weeks, we decided not to go out to partake, Robin is out with the girlfriends this morning, and I have a quiet house.  So, I got the time and hopefully you guys will lend me your minds for a while.  Enjoy this trip from back on March 6, 2017.

 Oh, I have some quotes identified but most of them not, so forgive me. 😊

 “Go First.” – Gabby Reece – Forget the details of this but my guess it was from one of Tim Ferriss’ books.  She was talking about going first to smile or saying hi to someone during your day.  We’ve talked about this before and a simple “hi” or a smile to a stranger could be the turning point of that person’s day or even life.  When I was on my run yesterday, my mind was racing for all the typical reasons, trying to figure shit out and this nice woman, riding her back toward me through me a big smile and it made my day.  She was full of happiness and I can feel her energy although we crossed paths for a second.  Let’s go out today and smile and say hi to a few folks, strangers, and see how that makes us all feel 😊!

 “As a parent, you have to learn to say you are sorry.” (unknown) – I do this often with Robina and the girls.  Well wait, I believe I do it when appropriate.  For those that know me, you understand how I can “get passionate” during a discussion.  😊 Sometimes that passion, or whatever you may want to classify it as, can show its face during discussions with Robin and the girls.  I may raise my voice, yell, and sure, there could be some very choice words that come out of my mouth – I am not perfect, but I am aware of when I do it and I do ask for my forgiveness from them.  Listen, I screw up a lot in life and part of that is screwing up as a husband and a father.  I try hard when I make those mistakes to ensure that the girls are aware that I made them and that I am sorry for it.  Shit happens and just because we are parents doesn’t excuse us from doing what is right in the eyes of our children.

 “Loving your children can override a lot of wrongs.” (unknown) – See above.  As parents, we love our kids and there is almost nothing they can do to prevent that love forever.  I stop after that sentence because I am not sure if there is anything that they could do that would prevent me from not loving them……. disappointed, angry, sad…sure, but not loving them anymore? Don’t know!  Forgiveness is a powerful tool.  Just like us as parents, although our kids screw up and make mistakes, we continue to love them.  I’ve learned from my girls that although I screw up……A LOT, and yes, those screw ups sometimes have an impact on them, they still love me and will love me with all the flaws!

 “Success is not owed to you.” (unknown) – Powerful. Let it sink in.  Got it? First off, define YOUR success and what that word means TO YOU!!  That is the most important step because that person next to you, their success, it is none of our business.  Define success for YOURSELF.  Got it? NO GO WORK YOUR ASS OF TO GET IT, whatever that may be.  That is how you get it.  And you may go out and work your ass of to get it and you still may not.  Hey – that is okay!!  YO – I Mean It!! It is okay – because you are a better person, a different person, for just going out there and trying it.  By just going out and working your ass off to try it.  PERIOD!

 “Every journey has it’s milestones and every victory has it’s beginning.” (unknown) – Most of us have gone for a walk or maybe have climbed a mountain.  We will use the climbing a mountain metaphor.  You get to the trailhead, step outside of your car.  You look up and say, “shit – this is gonna be tough.”  But you step off and you start.  You began the hike up the mountain.  Great job.  You get about 30 minutes into your hike, you’ve been talking and looking around, but it is time to take a break and grab some water.  You turn around and look at where you came from; you look at the scenery around you; you look at the view.  Wow – you soak it all in because you are appreciating what you are doing and how far you made it!  You turn back around and continue shuffling up the mountain and about an hour later, to your surprise, you are at the top.  You look down and again, are fulfilled because of what you did, where you came from, and the few milestones you overcame along the way.  Not, at the top of the mountain, looking around you and the breathtaking views, you are at peace because you’ve earned that victory. Pretty cool!

 “Separate from you past mistakes and misconceptions.” (unknown) – There are a few mistakes, real big screw ups that I’ve had that replay in my mind sometimes.  Yes, they have made an impact on my life and one or two were critical in me starting this transformation year ago.  I don’t forget them, but I have moved past them.  Why?  Well, they happened, and they are part of who I am.  If they didn’t happen, would I be who I am today? That is a strong No!  I don’t believe we should forget about those choices we made that well, f$%Ked us up! I use it as fuel to not make those mistakes again.  Forget no, but definitely separate yourself.

 “Your pursuit and what you conquer right now is what defines you.” (unknown) – Not sure about that one.  I think it is the “right now” part because everything that we have pursued in our past, and all those things we conquered is what has gotten us to this point.  Do they “define” us?  Don’t we do that ourselves? Don’t we have the power, the choice, and the ability to define ourselves, to write our own story?  For me, running 100 miles doesn’t define me.  I learned much about myself, many lessons, and it was an incredibly journey but didn’t define me.  It is helping me craft that story.  It is a steppingstone along the way.  The story ain’t over yet! 😊  

 “The only way to fail is to stand still.” (unknown) – JUST GOING TO LEAVE THIS ONE RIGHT HERE!!!!! LFRF! Keep Moving Forward!

 “The valleys you hit are the price of admission for the ride of your life.” This this may have been Les Brown…. – The shitstorms we face are all part of the journey my friends.  Think about it – we are pretty good at handling shitstorms and are getting better by the day. 😊  Remember though, there are so many different rides in the park and there are also a lot of cotton candy machines too so learn from those valleys but be aware of the peaks too!!!

 “Two things define this world are your perception and what you do with it” (unknown) – Pretty fitting for these times right? All I got for this one is a quote from Wayne Dyer – “Change the way you look at things and the things you look at change.” – Perspective

 “See yourself as an artist dedicated to your craft and over time you will create a masterpiece.” John Gordon – What is your craft? Being a great parent? Partner? Being an entrepreneur? A great chef or pianist? What is it that fulfills you and brings you pure joy? What does your masterpiece look like?

 Ending it with this simple quote, of course, unknown.

 “When you are being pruned it is like you are being destroyed but it is just the opposite.”