#like throughout my life i’ve had people that i’d call my best friends

[helloimtired]

never being anyone’s best friend or the most important person in anyone’s life, ever, can really fuck you up emotionally

[sunonyoreface]

He Knows - Simon “Ghost” Riley Pt. 18

An: Thanks for your patience, March is a really busy month for me! The tension is building and I can't wait for the next part (19 is looking steamy).

Hi there, this is a series about Simon Riley from COD. This series does not follow any of the established plots or timelines from the games. While I use the names of some characters, they are different from the ones in COD.

Summary: You’re held captive by 141 for reasons unknown.

Word count: 2800

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: angst, military setting, explicit language, graphic depictions of violence, use of knives, mentions of death.

I think of all the phone calls I’ve made throughout my life. The hundreds of hours I’ve spent talking to friends and family. Sharing the exciting news of getting into college with my childhood best friend who moved away in elementary school. Gossiping with my favourite coworker about an awful shift when she didn’t open with me in the morning. Listening closer to hear the whispers of shared secrets between the few people I really care about. Talking late into the night about that one person I couldn’t scrub from my mind. The conversation slowly dying down but neither of us ready to hang up. Neither of us ready for the silence after the line goes dead.  The relief of hearing their voice after days or weeks of nothing. All those conversations flicker through my mind as I stare at the landline sitting on Captain Price’s desk. It’s a clunky, faded, black thing with a rubber coil attaching the receiver to the phone and the numbers on the keys have long since rubbed off.

I’m not prepared to hear his voice. After learning all I know about him, I don’t think it’ll sound the same. There’s no way the man I’m about to speak to is the one I’ve known my whole life.

Soap was supposed to be here. Then five minutes ago, he was called out to demolitions by another sergeant who said it was “urgent”. I wasn’t sure what his specialty was until recently and after getting to know him better, it makes perfect sense. He spends almost every waking moment out there, yet won’t tell me what they’re doing. Whenever I ask, he sits up straighter and has to suppress his smile, but I don’t miss the excitement in his eyes when he says it’s classified.

Right now I’d rather be there with Soap than sat in front of Price and Ghost and some scrawny man with equipment hooked to that damn phone. I’d rather be almost anywhere than here.

The script crinkles in my hand. The Captain already gave the go-ahead. Now it’s all on me. I feel Ghost’s eyes on me. I want to find some comfort in them, but just can’t. After he left, he told Price about the mole. He had to, I get it, but I also can’t help the feeling that nothing I say will stay between us.

I wish I was back in his room, lying on top of the covers and reading his copy of Huckleberry Finn knowing that no one could get to me. Only Simon.

And then the phone is in my hand, pressed against my ear: ringing once, twice. And then it stops. Shuffling sounds fill the other line. Then, I hear his voice. That voice that softens when it speaks to me. That has always been so understanding. That ordered those men to mercilessly take the lives of innocent civilians praying for salvation.

“Y/n?” he asks, almost unsure – like the possibility of talking to me might just be too good to be true.

“Hi,” the word dad almost slips from my lips, but I know if it does, I won’t be able to keep it together. My hands don’t feel attached to my body. Like somewhere in the numb space of my forearms, they were simply disconnected. My mouth is dry and I eye the script, but can’t get the words to come into focus.

“Are you okay? Have they hurt you? Are you eating?” there’s just something to his voice, that I can’t quite pin down. Something disingenuous. Like he’s only playing the role of a concerned parent. When I meet Ghost’s eyes, I know he hears it too. He nods, urging me to speak.

“I’m fine,” my voice is strangely even. “They said I could see you again. That they’d make a trade,” the rest of my body disconnects from my mind and suddenly I’m standing beside Ghost watching myself talk on the phone. The hope in my voice is real. The girl on the phone is going to go home safely to her dad. And it sounds like she genuinely believes every word she’s saying.

“Oh my sweet girl,” he croons. “I want nothing more. Your mother and I have been worried sick.”

“Mom?” I latch onto the hopeful word. “Is she there with you?”

“No, but she’s somewhere safe, being guarded by some of our best. You’ll get to see her soon,” he purposely leaves out her location, unknowing of 141’s extensive intel.

“Dad, I-I,” just like in the script, Price audibly warns me we’re short on time. An intentional move to add more pressure to our conversation. My father will have heard him in the background. “They said I can’t talk much longer,” my tone is rushed and worried. I see a small smile tug on the corner of Price’s mouth. I’m convincing.

“Hey,” he says. “Soon enough we’ll have all the time in the world,” the ultranationalist who snuck into my room said he was displeased that I leaked the ambush info, but you’d never pick up on that while listening to him on the phone. He hides his cruelty so well. Even knowing what he’s capable of now, the man I’m speaking to just doesn’t sound like the type. “But y/n, I’m going to need to know what they want from us first. Okay?”

“Okay,” I mumble like a scared child. I smooth out the script across my thighs and read off their demands. I recite the names of five men. Two of their leaders and three of 141’s soldiers who were taken prisoner at one point or another. Neither my father nor my uncles are on the list. There’s no way they’d trade one of themselves for me. Even I know that.

“Those are the men they want?” I hear a newfound tension in his voice as he shifts in his seat.

“That’s what they told me to say,” my eyes are glued to the paper. If I look at Ghost or Price now, I’ll lose my concentration.

He sighs deeply, “I’ll need a few days little bird, those are some top dogs. But I’m going to get you out, don’t you worry.”

I sniffle as though this is too much. Like hearing his voice made me realize how much I miss him and now I might cry. “Love you,” my voice cracks.

“Love you too darling,” the line goes silent for just a moment. “I’ll be in touch,” with these words, his voice significantly deepens. He’ll be in touch. He has his ways of contacting me despite 141’s precautions. I should expect a shadowy visitor very soon.

Then he hangs up. I place the phone back on the mount. Horror creeps its way up my shoulders and I know I’m back in my own body.

“Well done,” Price congratulates me. He’s surprised I did so well. I don’t come off as the type of person to perform well under pressure – I normally don’t – yet the phone call was almost flawless.

“Thank you,” I attempt a small smile, but inside, I feel awful. Dirty. Blindsided. I can’t believe that is the same man I’ve known my entire life. Sinking betrayal anchors my bones to the depths of the Mariana Trench. The immense pressure makes my head feel as though it’s about to implode upon itself. But along with the shame I now carry because of our kinship, there’s also molten anger stirring within my core, threatening to erupt.

“Thank you, Sergeant, you’re dismissed,” Price turns to the man who recorded the call and waits for him to leave. Ghost hasn’t said a word almost this entire time. Yet he closely watches the man leave with his equipment as suspicious as ever. He doesn’t trust a soul. Especially now. “Within the next few days, your little friend will pay another visit. We’ve installed another camera outside your door and tapped the room. Tell him the truth, just like he asked, we don’t need to aggravate them further, but it is essential he doesn’t think you snitched again,” Price’s tone has turned serious. He understands the gravity of the situation.

The ultranationalist could decide to kill me if he thinks I snitched again. He would certainly order the execution of my friends back home. While Price doesn’t care about them, he needs me alive. They won’t have the opportunity to ambush the Ultranationalists without me alive for a supposed exchange.

“Any questions?” he asks. For once, I have none.

“No sir.”

“Right. Ghost, your request is approved. Take the afternoon to complete it. Return her to her quarters before 1800,” he nods once toward the lieutenant. And then we’re off.

I don’t know why, but I expected him to say something as we navigate the halls. However, like usual, Ghost is completely stoic.

When we first met, I was always silently instructed to walk in front of him. Ghost was suspicious of me. Despite being cleared by intel, part of him still considered the possibility that I could be an Ultranationalist. By walking behind me he eliminated any chance of a surprise attack. His analytical eyes would trail up and down my frame trying to decipher any hidden motives. He’d take note of the length of my stride. How I hold my head, my shoulders. How my hands fidgeted and I picked at my nails and then my cuticles once they were too short.

Something has changed since then. A lot has changed.

Now I walk beside him. Close, but not close enough that our arms brush. Not close enough to attract suspicion. He no longer glares at me like I could turn on him at any moment. There’s so much more depth to his eyes when they steal small glances my way. Sometimes – like now as we walk along the sparsely populated halls - I feel him step closer so we’re almost touching, the heat of each other’s body is just noticeable, before he reminds himself that someone could come across us at any moment. Then, after a brief moment of indulgence, he once again shifts away to a more professional distance. I sense the same kind of longing pulses through his veins as mine.

My thoughts are interrupted as we continue to walk past my room.

“Aren’t you dropping me off?” the confusion is evident in my voice as my pace slows. Ghost turns to look at me while keeping his pace.

“No. We’re training,” he says. Training? Is this the request Price mentioned earlier? What kind of training is he referring to? What is Ghost planning?

“We are?”

“Affirmative,” he confirms. His long legs are hard to keep up to as they stride with purpose.

“What kind of training?” I ask.

“You’ll see,” Ghost says. And if I’m not mistaken, I almost detect a hint of teasing in his voice.

Yet, Ghost doesn’t take me to a gym or shooting range, instead, he leads me right back to his quarters.

“Is this a joke?” suspicion is evident in my voice. I hesitate as he waits for me to enter first.

“Negative,” the curt response is typical. He isn’t about to volunteer any additional information.

“What could we possibly train for in your room?” my mind involuntarily wanders to a variety of things, but none that will help with the exchange. As I make eye contact with him, my cheeks flush almost immediately. Ghost’s gaze is strong and unwavering. He knows exactly where my thoughts have drifted.

“I’ll show you,” he motions to the door. A small ball of nervous energy forms in my lower stomach. The type that has no place being here right now. The type that’ll get me into trouble. “First, I want to know your thoughts on the phone call?”

“I don’t want to think about the phone call,” I say as I leave him behind in the hall. Once inside, he takes his vest off and hangs it on the back of the door. Facing away from me, he slips off the skull mask and quickly replaces it with a plain black balaclava. My whole body freezes at the sight. I can’t believe he just took it off in front of me. His hair is darker than I thought it’d be. The strands are a stark contrast against his fair eyelashes. He wears it clean cut like most men in the military, short on the sides and more forgiving on top. But it’s overall longer than I imagined. My mind drifts to what it would feel like to run my fingers through the delicate strands. To gently trace my nails along his scalp. To roughly grasp him by the hair as he–

“It’s not often Price congratulates someone on their performance,” Ghost’s head tilts as he gauges my response. I don’t speak, my mind still stuck on the fact he took his mask off in front of me, even if I couldn’t see his face. “You were almost as good there as you were during the interrogations,” he continues. Heat creeps up my neck. I don’t know if it’s a feeling of flattery or embarrassment.

“I’m not good at it. It feels like I’m not even there,” like the actions aren’t even my own. It’s a dangerous feeling. How far can a person go when they don’t feel responsible for their actions? How far could I go?

“But you know you are?” his tone becomes mildly concerned. Does he think I’m slipping from reality?

“I know I am. It’s just easier to separate myself from what I’m doing,” I think out loud, my voice slowly fading toward the end of my sentence. Maybe it’s my brain’s way of protecting myself?

“Y/n, if it’s too much let me know,” Ghost says seriously as a gloved hand reaches out and touches my chin. It has been too much since the moment they kidnapped me. But now all I can do now is figure out how to survive until the exchange is over. “For this too.”

The second half of his sentence catches my attention.

“And what is ‘this?’” what does he keep alluding to?

Ghost’s delicate hand on my chin leaves as he reaches for something strapped to his belt. The gloved hand unsheathes a steel knife. He flips it around and offers the handle to me. I hesitantly take it from him, all the while closely watching his eyes. There’s a glint to them. Something troublesome. At this point, his intentions could be anything.

“What’s your safe word?” his husky voice is suddenly a lot lower as he takes a step backward and squares his shoulders. There’s an ambiguous spark in his eyes. One that’s about to catch fire. I can almost smell the damp, smouldering smoke in the air.

“Safe word?” my breath catches in my throat and I try to force a swallow. I choke back a nervous laugh.  He’s joking, right? The knife feels unnatural in my hand.

“Think of one, sweetheart,” he rasps. There’s that damn name again. The one that makes it so fucking hard to think. My mind snags on it like a loose thread to a nail, pulling every thought out of order. Only he can mend me.

“Um, I don’t – Soap, I guess?” his call sign comes to mind first.

“Not Soap. Something different,” his head juts to the side with disapproval.

“Okay. Fine. Pizza then,” I’m still confused as to why he wants me to have a safe word.

“Pizza,” Ghost repeats to himself, burning it to memory. He takes another step back and I almost feel myself relaxing. My shoulders don’t feel so tense. The knife is no longer so heavy. I glance down at the mean little thing in my hand. I wonder how many people have died by this blade?

Ghost doesn’t wait for my eyes to return to his. From the edge of my peripheral, something large lunges at me. He’s incredibly fast. Just a flash of movement in the dim light. Fear hasn’t had the chance to take over yet. Instinct kicks in and I jump back out of the way, just narrowly escaping his first attempt at grabbing me. But there’s nowhere to go. The room is small and he’s closer to the door than I am. He wants me to fight. He’s forcing me to.

“The fuck are you doing?” I angrily spit at him as I corner myself between the dresser and wall, knife still in hand.

Ghost looks as terrifying as ever as he shifts to face me once more. His intimidating frame takes up the entire walkway between the bed and dresser. Those thick shoulders heave along with his chest as his breathing deepens. His gloved hands stay open at his sides, eager to grab at me again. Ghost’s sharp eyes look darker than before. He is completely locked in on me.

There is no escaping what comes next.

Pt 19:

[yanderecrazysie]

Curiosity (Yandere Tsukishima)

This was a Quotev request!

Title: Curiosity

Pairings: Tsukishima Kei x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, swearing, suggestive themes, non-consensual touching, seriously creepy vibes from Tsukishima

Summary: Tsukishima seems like a normal guy, except that he’s always writing in that journal of his. When you decide to see what he’s up to, you learn that he’s anything but normal.

curiosity

/noun/

a strong desire to know or learn something:

 DAY 1

It’s the first day of school again. (Y/n) looked beautiful as ever today, I missed seeing her in her school uniform. Of course, I’ve been following her around town over the summer, but I missed seeing her in a skirt. This is the last year I see that until I make a move, as I doubt she’ll wear skirts to university.

I’ll do my best to draw what she looks like, since this is a special occasion, but there’s no way my art can do her justice.

Tsukishima Kei was a quiet guy, which, you supposed, was common for smart kids. You hadn’t known him well throughout high school and you doubted you’d have much time to get to know him, since the end of your third and final year was nearly upon you both.

One interesting thing you always noticed is that he was always writing in a journal of sorts, sometimes sketching away in it instead of writing.

You always wondered what it said.

DAY 17

(Y/n) smiled and waved at me today. She does that to everyone, I know, but I couldn’t breathe when she turned her divine attention on me! I felt like, even for a second, I had her undivided attention! I’d do anything, ANYTHING to get that on me again. I’d fucking kill everyone she knows if that means she’ll look at me and only me.

Tsukishima always gave you the distinct vibe that he wanted a friend, especially after his only friend moved away last year, but that he didn’t know how to approach anyone. You sensed a sort of longing when he looked at you and you wondered if your friendliness appealed to his loneliness. Perhaps he was awkward or shy?

You felt bad that you hadn’t had time to talk to him, but life really was just too busy. You always tried to be friendly when you passed him in the halls or made eye contact. 

It was the least you could do.

DAY 33

I love (Y/n) so much that I was willing to dig around in her trash can to find that lip gloss she’d thrown away. How many guys would do THAT for their girlfriends? She only wore it a few times since she didn’t like it very much, but that just meant I had so much of something her precious lips had touched.

I felt like I was in heaven putting it on- like I was kissing her! I had dreams about doing just that and I woke up feeling happier and more refreshed than I had been all year. I need more.

You’d always felt like someone was following you and like your things were disappearing, but you wrote those feelings off as paranoia. Maybe you should take those things seriously, but who had time for that? You were on the student council, an honor student, and preparing for college.

Why didn’t you see the red flags?

Were you really so colorblind?

DAY 52

I went to her house and climbed in through the window. Thank goodness she’s on the first floor.

I went straight to her bed and just laid on it and inhaled her scent from the pillows and blankets. She’s on vacation and I miss her so much, so I really couldn’t help doing all this. It’s her fault for leaving me.

I wonder if she wants our room to look like this or if she has a better one in mind. I’m not a fan of the color but, if she likes it, who am I to disagree? I just want her to be healthy and happy with me. I’ll make her.

You were a naturally curious person. That’s probably why you did so well in school- you had a thirst for knowing why and how that many people your age didn’t care for. You never just wanted to accept things without an explanation. Better to be informed.

Sometimes you were called nosy or told to mind your own business, but you couldn’t help it. You also had a bad habit of eavesdropping and “investigating” on your own. You’d do great in a Nancy Drew book, but it annoyed real-life people.

It’s really no surprise that, when you went to grab Tsukishima’s left-behind notebook, you couldn’t stop yourself from peeking inside and reading some of the entries and looking at the drawings.

DAY 82

I peeked through her window at just the right time and caught her getting undressed for a shower! I think I’ve died and gone to heaven. Words can’t describe the experience, so I’ll draw what she looked like instead:

You felt sick. For once, you wished, desperately, that your curiosity was nonexistent. If you could take back everything you’d seen in the last few minutes, you would.

You’d just go off to university, blissfully unaware, and never see that freak ever again. How could he write and draw such things? How could he violate your privacy like that? How dare he-

“You read it, didn’t you?”

The empty classroom went so silent you could hear a pin drop. Your horror felt like metal weighing down your stomach and throat. You couldn’t swallow, you couldn’t breathe.

Tsukishima was right behind you, inching closer each moment, but you couldn’t hope to turn around or run away. You were petrified, rooted in place like you were a statue. A statue with wide eyes and terror etched into your features.

You wanted to claim you hadn’t but the journal was still open in your hands, opened up to a disgusting drawing of yourself and your eyes couldn’t tear themselves away from it. Even if you wanted to futilely make up an excuse, your mouth wouldn’t form the words. You couldn’t so much as squeak.

As he stands directly behind you, his hands caress your waist, finger pads sinking deep into the flesh through your shirt. You shudder in disgust, but that’s the most movement your body can even make.

Even as his fingers dance at the hem of your shirt, daringly searching upwards against bare skin, you can’t move or make a sound. You wished you were a fight or flee kind of person and not a freeze.

You feel his lips brush against your earlobe and you violently shudder as he speaks into your ear a few chilling words.

“Don’t you know what curiosity did to the cat?”

[punksocks]

Pluto in 1st house + Scorpio Rising: Jealousy

So Scorpio rising/Pluto in the first is a really divisive placement to gain perspective on. And of course it is! It’s Pluto after all, and if Pluto is going to do anything it’s going to make a strong polarizing impact. I wanted to share my perspective as a Pluto 1st house and Scorpio rising individual.

The jealousy aspect is very divisive. It can sound conceited to go out in the world with a “they’re just mad because they’re jealous” attitude but I find this is often oversimplifying the experience of Pluto 1st housers/ Scorpio risings. 

My experience is colored by my Scorpio rising so this may not apply to everyone with Pluto in the 1st house, but Scorpio for all its allure and strength is still a water sign. Scorpio placement individuals have gone out into the world and been emotionally vulnerable at some point in their lives. Scorpio (and Pluto) is known as mysterious in part because of all the transformations they have gone through and how many identities they’ve appeared to shed throughout their lives. 

With gemini in the 8th house I’ve often found myself attracting enemies that would be really duplicitous. People would belittle me to my face then copy my ideas and my actions as if I’d be too naive to see that they’re blatantly ripping me off. I put distance in after my boundaries are crossed and that makes those people even more upset.

I feel like every Scorpio rising/ Pluto in the 1st individual has had an experience of someone growing close to them in order to attempt to take some part of the Asc individual away from them. The other side of jealousy is envy, and envy makes some people feel entitled to what they don’t have but feel like they deserve.

Often this envy/jealousy shows up in mimicry. I think Scorpio rising/Pluto in the 1st people dislike copycats because the lack of authenticity really goes against Pluto’s nature of stirring polarizing but authentic reactions from people.

Personally I’ve had these experiences with peers and family and friends. (Ex. I posted something I created to my story and someone at work literally looked at my story, copied it, and took it to our boss to show off their idea… then they got mad at me when I hid my story from them and they and other coworker called me conceited for it… And that’s just a tame example.)

I’ve also had my fair share of people that have tried to “mentor” me into being completely different so that they can control my ambitions and ability to manifest. Which has only made my perception more fixed/stubborn in how I’ve perceived people coming into my life. I used to second guess my assumptions and try to calm my intuition to be more considerate of what other people are going through, as a water rising but I had to stop. Not stop being considerate, of course, but stop letting in the people I sensed were resentful.

So through experience after negative experience I still stay open and positive with all the folks that enter my life for whatever reason, but I keep everyone except very few people at an arms length and out of my plans until they’ve happened. I don’t assume everyone is jealous of me, I honestly still assume the opposite but I’ve learned through a lot of trials that unfortunately envy does manifest more commonly in people that have been in my life than I had hoped for.

But using my Scorpio rising/Pluto in the first house filter for my experiences has saved me a lot of heartache and improved my life a good deal.

Often it turns out that, aside from tried and true loved ones, strangers tend to be the most benevolent and helpful. People that barely know me have been very kind and often impressed by my tenacity and have wished me the best. I believe that’s because these strangers have entered my life with only our small interactions in mind and haven’t been tempted by what they could gain by being immersed in my life. Whatever that may be. (Also, this isn’t everyone ofc just random good people I’m grateful for)

Deep down I still believe in the good in most people and showing at least kindness at first, even if I’m not wearing my heart on my sleeve and being as open as I once was in my youth. And I’m grateful for those that share sincere kindness in turn.

[kingofpopmj]

Conscious Decision

Part 4

July 16th, 1988

This chapter is from Michael’s point of view because I love you all that much!

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

“I think my mom is upset I stole you from her.” I said playfully. Y/N shook her head laughing.

“Well, I am her favorite.” She teased. We were getting ready for the day. Together. For a moment, I imagined we were a normal couple getting ready for work. She was heading off to the hospital while I was off to the office. We lived in a beautiful house in a nice neighborhood. We lived nearby the school, so our kids could ride their bikes. Our kids were kids. We were happy. “She’s not mad. She loves us together.” Y/N added kissing my shoulder.

Thankfully, it took very little convincing to get Y/N to move into my suite. It’s a bit more spacious and more importantly there are two beds. We’ve shared a bed before, but given recent events in our relationship sharing a bed came with added pressure. I don’t want to rush anything and ruin this. This was a lifetime in the making.

As much as I want to completely immerse myself in Y/N, in our relationship, I have to be smart about it. I have to be careful. I’d never forgive myself if I put her in danger. I don’t want to be this paranoid, but so much has changed over the past few years. This life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I do my best to adapt to the circumstances without compromising who I am. I’m human. I’m not that different. I’m not weird even though people try mercilessly to label me as such.

I sit on the bed watching her style her hair and I could feel my heart rate increase. I remember doing this exact same thing throughout our relationship. When we were kids I nagged her, sometimes threw a pillow or two to get her to hurry. Then, as teenagers I had to fight the urge to stare- to admire her the entire time. It was some of the best and worst times of my life. We were so close. She was so close yet so far. And now, we’re here, where we belong.

Y/N is my safe haven. She always has been. She’s always the one I run to. When my dad lost his temper. When my brothers teased me. When I felt unworthy. When I felt I couldn’t handle the world watching me constantly. When I let the awful words of the press affect me. As long as I protect her she’ll always be there. She won’t have to struggle to adapt if I just keep her safe.

She’s everything. She’s my everything.

She was the first person I confided in when I noticed discoloration on my chest and legs. She didn’t wince at the sight, she didn’t call me names and above everything she didn’t treat me different. She helped me find the best dermatologist and she was with me every step of the way. I guess that’s one of the advantages of your best friend being a doctor. Y/N made sure I got the best care. She explained everything to me in a way I could understand. She protected me from being poked and prodded at. She refused to let anyone treat me like a walking circus act, which unfortunately has become my new normal.

“I’m ready.” I heard her sweet voice and immediately she had my undivided attention.

“After you my lady.” I smiled holding my arm out for her to take.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to tag along?”

“You’re only here a few more days. I want as much Y/N time as I can get.” I giggled as we piled into the elevator. I’m accompanied by guards everywhere I go, but lately it’s dawned on me just how abnormal it is. My life has changed so much and being with Y/N I can’t help but notice it all. She reminds me of everything I love. Everything I’ve been missing out on. Everything I never want to be without.

“I’m not ready to leave you.” She said softly wrapping her arms around my waist. She subtly surveyed the small space filled with giant men before pulling away from me.

“Don’t.” I whispered pulling her back into me. Usually, I avoid physical touch, public displays of affection, but that doesn’t apply to Y/N. She has her own set of rules. That means she could do absolutely anything she wants to me, for me, around me and I’m all for it. She makes me feel everything. She makes me feel. No matter what’s going on around us I can be myself with her. Our own little world; my escape. It’s a feeling I thought I’d lost forever, but I was wrong.

“Wait!” I turned to Y/N as the elevator came to a stop. The noise from outside becoming overwhelming as the doors opened. I stood for a moment trying to think. “Here.” I took my jacket off before throwing it over her head.

“Michael, what’s going on?” Her voice was muffled and slightly annoyed.

“Just trust me.” I secured my face mask before stepping out of the elevator guiding Y/N beside me.

“I can’t see.” She complained. “Is this really necessary?”

“I got you.” The screams intensified as we neared the exit. “We’re almost there.” I held onto her as the crowd enclosed around us. There was very little I could do while the guards formed a path to the car. Once the door was opened I helped Y/N inside and climbed in behind her. She ripped the jacket off her head revealing her messy hair.

“Do I have to do that all the time?” She huffed trying to fix her hair.

“Maybe.” I smiled nervously.

“Why?”

“Look, I’m going to shout from the rooftops I have a girl. The best girl. I’m taken as far as they’ll know, but I want to protect you from the craziness.”

“I see. I guess I understand that.”

“They’ll find out everything about you overnight. It’ll be front page news in the morning. True or not. Unfortunately, fabricated stories sell better, so that’s usually what they strive for.”

“Thank you for protecting me.” She adjusted laying her head in my lap looking up at me. “Just like when we were kids. You used to throw dirt at those kids to get them to leave us alone.”

“I may have to bring that move back.” I smiled at the memory. “And it serves them right, especially, that Antonio.”

“Here we go.”

“He had a crush on you and he would bug me endlessly because you were always with me. Then, he had the nerve to ask you to prom in high school. That- that fathead.”

“Fathead?” She laughed uncontrollably. It was music to my ears. “I said no! I went to prom with you.”

“I remember.”

“I like you better without this.” She sat up untying my face mask. “There he is.”

“You’re making me blush.”

“Good.”

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

“Dance with me.” I pulled Y/N on stage with me as the band practiced.

“This is very discreet.” She playfully rolled her eyes.

“I trust everyone here. Plus, they really like you. They like us.” I booped her nose making her smile.

“I was thinking about our date tonight. What if we move it to tomorrow afternoon? I mean you’re going to be exhausted after the show. I don’t want to keep you from getting rest.”

“No! No. I already have everything planned. It’s happening. Prepare to be swept off your feet.”

“Oh, Mr. Jackson is that smugness I hear?”

“Nope. It’s not smugness, it’s confidence!”

“Confidence. Is that so?”

“Yes, because I finally got the girl.”

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

The curtain closed behind me and I shrugged off my letterman jacket. As Karen touched up my makeup I looked over to find Y/N sitting off to the side. She was in deep conversation with my mother about god knows what. My mom smirked at me before making my stare known. Y/N winked blowing a few kisses my way. I instantly felt giddy. My face felt hot and I hoped no one else would notice.

“She’s a good one.” Karen whispered to me.

“She’s the one.” It slipped out and even though I meant it. It was a different feeling to say it out loud.

“I think so too.” She grinned clapping her hands. “Your mom and I kept wondering how long it was going to take you two. We almost put a bet together with Greg and the guys. I think it’s great. You deserve someone who makes you genuinely happy. Above all, she loved you before all this, she loves you in-spite of all this.”

“She did. She does.”

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

The drive back to the hotel was about an hour. I couldn’t stop fidgeting. Our first date was minutes away and I needed everything to be perfect.

“Katherine wants to have breakfast together.” Y/N spoke from beside me.

“I think I have some press stuff early, but after works. It’ll have to be a brunch.”

“I’ll let her know. She really wants to see us. She has many questions, but I thought it’d be more fun to leave you to answer them.”

“Yeah, she’s been planning our wedding since we were twelve.”

“You’re lying!”

“I’m not. One day, Jermaine was teasing me because I was too chicken to admit I liked you. He threatened to put the moves on you since I was too scared to do it. My mom lit him up. She threw a biscuit at his head.” I let out a deep belly laugh as I recalled that explosive family dinner. “She told him- well everyone that you were going to be her daughter-in-law one day, but he would not be your groom.”

“Wow.”

“It was the best day. I’ve never seen anyone put Jermaine in his place like that.”

“She’s the best.”

“She really is.”

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

We sat in the car looking out of the tinted windows. The crowds outside our hotel had multiplied, but were slightly more controlled since barricades were put up.

“Michael, there are so many people.” Y/N said in awe. “You should stay out for a bit. Aw, look!” There was a little girl holding up a sparkly pink poster that read ‘It’s my birthday! My only wish is a hug from Michael!’

“Alright, I’m going to have Bill escort you inside.” I leaned in kissing her. I could feel her lips curve up into a smile. Oh, her lips taste like candy. The kiss intensified as our hands began to roam each other’s bodies. Goodness, she’s so addicting. It ended as quickly as it began when a loud knock on the window startled us. I gave her one last look before stepping out of the car closing the door behind me. “Please get her inside safely. I won’t be long wait in the lobby.” I told Bill receiving a nod in return. “Thank you.”

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

“Hey there rockstar!” Y/N laughed as I entered the lobby. “Can I have an autograph too?” She pouted.

“You can have more than an autograph.” I teased as my arm found its place around her waist.

“You’re bad.” She closed her eyes as a blush painted over her face.

“You haven’t even seen the half of it.” We laughed loudly as other guests looked at us in confusion. “Let’s go before we get kicked out.”

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

“Michael, oh my goodness.”

“I went down to the shop, but I couldn’t decide they were all so beautiful.” I watched as she took small steps into our hotel room stopping to admire each flower arrangement. “I kind of just got all of them. They all have different meanings and each one reminded me of you.” She bent down touching the pedals of a white rose.

“Those mean eternal loyalty, love and new beginnings.”

“That’s fitting.” She smiled sniffing a light pink peony.

“Those mean love, honor and happiness.” Each step she took I was right behind her. The flowers lined the walls on both sides of us making the walkway very narrow, nonetheless, it was a stunning sight.

“Sunflowers mean positivity, strength and strong bonds. Red roses mean romance and passion. The white peony means-“ she twirled around cutting me off with a kiss.

“I can’t believe you did all of this.” She leaned into me. “It’s like my own private botanical garden.” She giggled hugging me tighter.

“The surprises have just begun my love.” I quickly lifted her off the ground throwing her over my shoulder and ran down the rest of the path.

“Don’t you dare drop me!”

“Let’s eat.” I placed her down and led her out onto the balcony. A candle lit dinner awaited us. I walked over to her chair pulling it out for her.

“How did you do all this?”

“I have my ways.”

“I can’t believe you did all of this for me. It’s beautiful.”

“I’d do anything for you.”

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

After we finished dinner we decided to relax outside and do some stargazing. There was the distant sound of the city, but it was peaceful.

“Y/N, I really wish you wouldn’t leave.”

“I can visit again in a few months.”

“Months?” I loudly blurted which startled her. “Sorry.” I avoided her eyes as I stood up walking inside. I didn’t realize how fast I was walking until I heard her voice from behind me.

“You can visit me too.”

“I’m busy. My calendar is booked months in advance. I barely have anytime for myself.”

“Okay.. so what do you have in mind?”

“Stay. Travel with me.”

“Michael, that sounds incredible it really does, but I have a job I can’t just disappear.”

“Quit.”

“I love my job.”

“Don’t you love me?”

“I do love you.”

“Then I don’t understand the issue.” I shook my head falling back onto the mattress. I wasn’t necessarily proud of what was coming out of my mouth, but it was too late to back down now. “Anything you want or need I can take care of. I’ll do everything, anything for you.”

“Michael.”

“Y/N.” I retorted a bit more childishly than I intended.

“I love you. I want to be with you, but I can’t agree to that. I just can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You deserve to have people in your life that are there for you and only you. People that want to be in your life to add to it not take. You have so much to offer from here.” She said placing her hand over my heart. “And here.” She ran her hand along the sides of my head, tucking some hair behind my ear and kissing me sweetly. “I’m yours and I’m in love with you beyond words. I’d do anything for you, absolutely anything, but I draw the line at living off of you. I will not exploit your kindness, generosity, talent or privacy. I will never use you for my own personal gain. I will not take advantage of you. I will never betray you. I will never hurt you.”

I stood still for a moment deep in thought. I wanted to object. I wanted to fight for her to stay, but after that speech how could I?

“I understand.” I sat up looking at the wall.

“You’re upset. Please don’t be upset.”

“I like when you’re here.” I said hastily surprising even myself. “I don’t like being alone.”

“You’re not alone. I’m here.” She attempted to cuddle with me, but I moved away.

“You’re leaving in like two days.” I said, knowingly exaggerating her stay. She’ll be here with me for another week, but it wasn’t enough.

“Michael, it feels like you want to fight with me.” She said sadly. “This transition from friendship to relationship is difficult enough as is. If you don’t communicate with me and tell me what you’re feeling then this is going to be… it’s not going to be good. Please don’t shut me out. I’ve waited for you my whole life.”

“I don’t want to do long distance.” I made it to my feet searching for what to say next. “I don’t want to go months without seeing each other. We’ve done it before, but that was different. We weren’t dating. I had no right complaining about how much I missed you then. I know you’ve worked hard to get where you are now. I’m so proud of you. I just- I want to know what’s going to happen in the future- our future- because I want that- a future with you- what happens when we get married or have kids? Or have kids then get married I mean either order is fine with me as long as I’m with you. It’s really up to you I mean especially the kids part-it’s your body. And then how many kids? I love kids- oh I’d love to have a big family but if we want a big family we should probably start sooner rather than later. I think we’d have beautiful babies, especially if they take after their mother. I mean I don’t know do we want them back to back? I don’t mind either way. And then what kind of house do you want? Where do you want to live? Would you continue to work? Would you quit? What would we name them? I like Prince for a boy- you know like my grandfather. Unless you hate that. Would you be a stay at home mother? Do you have baby names in mind? Would you like Neverland as our home or should I start looking for a new place? I love Neverland, but we could just have it as a vacation home I guess. Can we have a trampoline at the new place? Wait! Do you want to take my last name? I’d love that! Mr. and Mrs. Jackson- so grown up of us- Would you want me to quit what I do? I mean I could be a stay at home dad. Or would you and the kids travel with me? I mean I’m not opposed to-“

“Michael. Honey breathe.” I felt her soft hands on my cheeks and the room stopped spinning instantly. “We can discuss all this if you’d like, but let’s breathe and slow down first.”

I pulled her into me and inhaled the lovely scent of her shampoo. I held onto her like my life depended on keeping her close. I feel myself relax as she ran her delicate fingers through my hair.

“I’m sorry.” I lowly spoke.

“Michael.” Her touch sent jolts throughout my body as she undid the buttons of my top. She looked into my eyes with an expression I’ve never seen before. Oh, I hope this isn’t the last time I see that expression. I could feel what was about to happen. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.

“You’re beautiful.” I said into the kiss. My blue button down shirt fell to the ground as I felt her fingers fumbling with my belt. I gently held her hands in mine in attempt to slow things down.

“You’re perfect.” Y/N said as she left tender kisses down my neck. She knew exactly what I was thinking. I was afraid for her to see me- all of me- for the first time- our first time. Her hands slid down my chest to the hem of my white v-neck. I felt myself take in a sharp breath as she pulled it over my head leaving me bare. The pads of her fingers traced the uneven marks on my chest- beauty sprinkles as Y/N calls them- and once again I felt her lips against my skin. “You’re beautiful Michael.”

“Y/N?”

“Yes Michael?”

“Marry me.”

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

Hunnies!!

Part 4! 🙈

Oh my! This was a challenge. Hopefully I did Michael justice in this chapter. It was fun writing from his perspective.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

[pcetstcrtured]

so this is a really a low effort, minimal, end of 2023 follow forever. but i really wanted to at least do something because all you really have put up with so much when it comes to me & you deserve it. i just - don’t have the time today to really get on my laptop & do fancy graphics & whatnot. also please note whether you end up on this list or not - i love & adore you so much, i’m more grateful for you than you know, & thank you for following me. <3

@wintersreplies - my bae, my best friend, the absolute sunshine of my life. rach, i adore you so much - i really hope you know this by know. i can’t believe we’re coming up on eight years of friendship here shortly. i can truly say i don’t know where or who i’d be without you. thank you for sticking by my side through all the bullshit, for watching me grow & supporting me through it all, through all our ups & downs. thank you for always writing our kids with me, & i love you & adore you, & i can’t wait to see what 2024 brings for us.

@liveshaunted - stevie, my love, i love you so much. i can’t believe how long we’ve known each other, can’t believe how long we’ve been writing together, & the fact that we’ve stuck by each other throughout so many different blogs & such, i love that for us. i love the fact that we always have thirty million threads together on whatever blogs we’re on (well working on getting there for your one piece & other ones but you get me). & the fact that we have about thirty million ships & plots together because the limit simply does not exist when it comes to us. i love you, i adore you, & here’s to so many more years of friendship.

@heartfe1t - kenna, my sweet sweet kenna. i know i’ve said this before, but you’ve hands down gotta be one of the nicest, kindest, sweetest, people i know & the world could truly use more like you in it. i love you so much beyond words, utterly adore you, you know? we’ve also honestly been friends for quite some time & i’ve loved being able to watch you grow in that time because you were still such a smol human when we met. thank you honestly just for being you, & always staying by my side, even when certain things happened & when so many others didn’t want to. i love you, i love all our kids together, & thank you for always being you. truly, i’m excited to see what else we can accomplish in 2024 & beyond.

@inspotlight - hales, i honestly can’t believe we just really became close this year because it feels like we’ve been friends forever, but i’m truly so glad we have. i really think i needed you in my life, to be honest. i appreciate you so fucking much, you stood by me & supported me when i really needed it this year, especially with you know, certain shit, & i’ll never be able to put into words how much that means. you’re honestly such a great person, a great friend & i’m so lucky i get to call you mine now. i love you, i adore you, & thank you for being MY friend. & i can’t wait for so many more years of friendship.

@ravenbraved - terri, my squishy, of course you had to have a spot on here. i actually can’t even remember when exactly we met but i know it’s definitely been a few years by now & i’m so grateful for those years. you’ve truly become one of the best friends i could ask for & i love you so much beyond words. you’re so supportive, kind & caring, & something i’ve really needed to be honest. even when you just send me ‘i love yous’ i can’t even tell you how much that mean to me & makes my day. you’re truly one of a kind, a spot in the dark & the absolute best squishy a planet could ask for. let’s see what this new year has in store for us & ps zoey/luke forever tyvm.

@childrenofslumber - nicky, now you definitely had to have a spot here because yes we’ve been friends for a while & yes you’ve had one several times before - but i just, i really gotta get sappy here for a second, but this past year or so you’ve just, you’ve really been an absolutely amazing fucking friend to me, okay? like i’m bad with words & can’t fully express how much you have been - but you’ve been there during times i really needed it & just been so kind & supportive & the fact that you always send me stuff that reminds you of me or our kids, makes me smile so much. i know i can be slow af when it comes to messaging, but i love you so much my disaster bff, i’m so fucking grateful for you, & here’s to so many more years for us.

@percentstardust - rissa, hello my love, yes you get a spot too. because i mean, it’s literally this past year that we really met & became close & such, but truly i’m so grateful for it. getting to know you has been amazing & my life has been made all the more better for it. whether it’s talking about our scream babies, or barbie babies, or our interacting & teasing each other on twitter, i love it all, i love talking to you, & i’m so glad to know you, truly. i can’t wait for so many more years of friendship & to see where 2024 takes us. i love you, i adore you, & … #samloomisforever.

also a bunch of other people i need to tag because i utterly adore you & you’ve also made my 2023, & so many other years, worth it & i wouldn’t be the planet i am without you & i want to give you ALL my love - @endtown @chrmiing @goseabrook @isdeathlystill @forgottcnboy @shackld @goldshadows @starsweepers @fullofhcart @lcveblossomed @ofblackskies @depictedblue @freezegirl @bravevolunteer @takeflight

& … probably several others i’m forgetting. but again, if you’re not on here i promise i still love & adore you so, & you really & truly did make my year a good one. every single one of you that follows me has made this year worth it, especially considering most all of you have dealt with me & my thirty million blogs. i love you guys, i love you all so much, & here’s to 2024! wishing you all the happiest & best new year, & thanks for putting up with this messy little planet <3

[ghostofadeadpoet]

A Wes Anderson-esque Review of The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar

July 8th, 2074

“Images do not stay in my memory for long. It’s a curse I have been dealing with throughout my life. I forget the face of every person I meet, which sometimes even includes my close friends. To my fortune, I am gifted with the ability to remember words. I can memorise an entire book of 3000 pages by reading it just once,” he says as he finishes his meal.

“That’s incredible. You must have read a lot of books,” I say.

“In my younger days, I’d fritter my time away reading hundreds of books which never piqued my interest. I did it because it seemed to be the best use of my ability until I realised that it was my fellow humans who fascinated me. I took more joy in conversing with a random stranger during travel than in reading Sartre.

Which brings me to the creepiest aspect of my ability, which is that I can recite a whole conversation I had with another person word-for-word. The time and place of the conversation don’t matter in the least because I remember every word every person spoke in front of me ever since I was five years old.

Now, at my frail old age, death looms over me and most people I’ve met in my life have passed away. But they were never forgotten, and I must ensure, at the best of my ability, that it remains that way, which is why I asked you to create this collection of interesting conversations I had over the years.”

I assure him with a smile.

“So, shall we start?” he asks.

“Sure, do you have anything in mind for the first one?”

“Yes, I do. I want to kick off with something light-hearted.”

“Good to hear.” I press record on my device. “You can start,” I say.

“The following is a conversation I indulged on 28th September 2023 with a man whose name I didn’t bother to ask.

Before the city became uninhabitable due to climate change, Chennai used to be densely populated, where summers lasted for ten months. I was in the backseat of an autorickshaw, the one where you share the ride. I was accompanied by a young man in his mid-20s, whose face I don’t remember. Not even the details, there weren’t any oddities about him. He probably looked like everyone else.

Most people don’t like to be bothered and are comfortable with being quiet. People who’d like to be bothered become restless when in front of abject silence. Symptoms: tendency to be fidgety and shaky legs. It’s not always the case but you can rely on it as an effective measure to avoid throwing yourself into awkward situations.

To my luck, he was kind enough to take the burden of having to start a conversation away from me. He pointed at some place which was likely a house or an apartment complex and said, “That’s where I grew up.”

I’ll spare you the small talk. He was a screenwriter and was involved in the cinema business, something that I always ignored due to my condition. A famous filmmaker, Wes Anderson, had released a short film called “The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar.” I lied that I knew about this director and he didn’t think twice before he started to talk about his experience of watching the film.

On the surface, it seems like a gimmick. Anderson, who is a student of French New Wave films must just be paying tribute to Truffaut’s Day For Night. But for FOUR CONSECUTIVE FILMS? There must be something more to it, and Henry Sugar helped me figure it out.

Suspension of disbelief takes place when a reader or a viewer is completely immersed in the world created by the author where the illusion is so strong that the laws of reality don’t matter anymore. Every film has its own unique set of rules, colours, costumes, style of acting, etc., Everything must come together as a cohesive experience for the audience to be immersed. If a film strays away from its ‘rules,’ let’s say the colour tone of Grand Budapest Hotel suddenly changes to the one from Asteroid City, or Adrien Brody gives a Shakespearean monologue in The Darjeeling Limited, the illusion will be broken.

The more whimsical the ‘rules’ are, the harder it is to establish them. It’s easy to set up a film like Rushmore where the ‘rules’ are somewhat grounded in reality. Isle of Dogs and Fantastic Mr. Fox had the luxury of being animated. The same can’t be said for his recent live-action films where the characters don’t talk or act like real people. Thus, the story-within-story trope allows Wes Anderson to establish his world. Henry Sugar takes it to the extreme with its frequent fourth wall breaks, allowing Wes Anderson to not be limited by expectations of realism and conventional storytelling.

Asteroid City, for example, could work without Bryan Cranston’s TV show segments, but they embellish the overall experience. When a film called Asteroid City starts with a character saying “Asteroid City does not exist,” you observe the movie and its characters from a detached perspective.

As soon as I finished watching The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar, I read the original short story by Roald Dahl. I know film adaptations that are better than their source material, but I’ve never seen a filmmaker take an awful book and make it charming. Wes Anderson uses a fusion of audiobook and stage-play style of narration where the characters narrate the action instead of performing it. The visuals exist merely as an aid and not the primary storytelling device. You can understand 95% of the film with your eyes closed.

Roald Dahl makes the classic mistake of ‘telling’ and not ‘showing’ throughout the story which takes the reader out of the immersion. Anderson, on the other hand, takes it to the extreme to the point it is ridiculous. It takes you out of the immersion as well but in a good way,” he paused.

“I think I have to get down here. It was nice talking to you,” he said. We shook hands and he got out of the autorickshaw.”

“It wasn’t exactly a conversation, was it? It was more of a monologue,” I say.

The old man shrugged.

“Did you watch the film?” I ask.

“I did. Many times, actually. I used to resist cinema because ‘what’s the point if I can’t remember any of the frames’ but then when I rewatched The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar, I realised that I could experience the cinematography again and feel the same way I did for the first time, a luxury I never had with words. I could never feel anything when my wife tells me that she loves me because I remember the ten thousand times she said it before. It’s good to forget just a little.

I began to appreciate the images I encounter in my everyday life. Every time I look at the eyes of the love of my life, I see the glint in her eye with affection I’ve never seen before. And of course, I began to appreciate cinema. Although, I don’t remember many of the films, except for some Wes Anderson that were basically audiobooks.”

“Why didn’t you ask his name?” I ask.

“I never thought about it. Perhaps the ‘monologue,’ as you’d call it, made me see the beauty in the unknown.”

I stop the recording.

“It was nice talking to you. I will write them down, and uh…”

“You can call me,” the old man writes down his number on a tissue paper and hands it over to me.

“Thank you so much,” I say as I get up from my seat.

“And my name is”

“No. Let’s not share our names,” I say with a smile.

I leave the dining hall to return to my hotel room. On my way in the elevator, I open my device to add The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar to my watchlist.

[absolutefilthimsosorry]

Tagged by @calvinahobbes

Tag someone you want to get to know better! Or just check in with.

Favourite colour? Purple

Last song? Get Him Back! by Olivia Rodrigo. It’s clever, I like how it uses the two interpretations of ‘get him back’ throughout the song.

Last movie? I don’t watch a lot of films so I think either Red White and Royal Blue which was cute and hot but not as good as the book, and the erasure of women and Nora’s sexuality annoyed me; or Tall Girl with a friend (not my choice) which was a weird one and not something I’d recommend. It acts like being tall is the greatest hardship for a teen girl and her life is so hard when she’s an able bodied cishet rich white girl. I mean her best friend is a bi-coded (not explicitly out but you can tell someone wanted her to be and it was blocked) black girl but apparently they live in a utopian world where the only thing you get bullied for is being tall. If only huh?

Currently watching? Sex Education. New season just dropped and it’s queerer than ever! Obviously Netflix saw how well heartstopper did and ran with it and I for one am not complaining! It’s still cringe af at some points, I literally had to take me headphones off or look away a couple of times because the second hand embarrassment was too much for me and I’m only like 4 episodes in but overall it’s a bit of fun.

Other stuff I watched this year? Heartstopper - so cute and aroace rep means a lot to me. Good Omens - personally loved it but wow the second season is very different to the first so I can see why some people didn’t like it. Shadow and Bone - really enjoyed this season, it felt like a step up from the first series. Also Wylan and Jesper, I’m a sucker for a good flirty ship. Um I’m sure there’s other stuff. I’ve been watching a lot of YouTube this year, I’m loving smosh games right now and these YouTubers called Dan and Phil though I wish they’d post more often…

Shows I dropped this year? I’m not sure there are any. There’s a few I’ve started and do intend to finish. Oh was yellowjackets this year? I watched s1 of that and don’t think I’m going to watch s2 so I guess that counts.

Last book? A Swedish Christmas Fairy Tale. Should I have kept this for December? Probably. But I was in the mood for something cutesy and sapphic and this is what the library had. It was okay. Fine as a light read but not something I’d have spent money on.

Tagging @foreverjustanemokidatheart @cloudhowell @natigail

[thetypedwriter]

The Midnight Library Book Review

The Midnight Library Book Review by Matt Haig 

The Midnight Library is another grand example of thetypedwriter receiving a book as a present from someone they care about. The Midnight Library is not exactly my cup of tea. The premise is fine, but it wouldn’t be a book I’d pick up myself for multiple reasons. Because of this, my view of the book is colored differently. 

As I’ve already mentioned, the premise is fine. The plot revolves around Nora Seed, a young woman who no longer sees the point of living her life after failures that span professional, romantic, friendship, and personal choices. Nora feels like she no longer has anyone in the world who loves her or cares for her. Because of this, Nora sadly decides to take her own life. 

Instead of ending up in heaven or hell, Nora ends up in a sort of purgatory-like state. She enters the Midnight Library. She’s shocked to find herself in a dimly lit room with her old librarian, Ms. Elm, one of the few people in Nora’s life that she remembers being kind to her. 

Ms. Elm explains that Nora is between life and death. Nora has choices. The books surrounding them are actually infinite possibilities of other lives that Nora has lived if she had made different choices throughout her life. 

What follows is Nora Seed experiencing different lives. In one, she’s a famous rockstar. In another she’s an Olympic swimmer. In others, she’s a glaciologist, lives with her best friend in Australia, opened a pub with her ex-boyfriend, Dan, and many more. However, no matter how many lives she experiences, she finds that every single one is disappointing in one way or another. 

Like me you can probably call the ending of the novel by chapter two. By that, I mean you can probably predict what life she ends up choosing and what Nora ends up learning. 

This isn’t necessarily a con, but it’s not positive either. The ending was very predictable and while the theme of learning to live life and not take it for granted is a good one, Nora also takes an exceedingly long time (in my opinion) to learn this lesson. 

My other annoyance with this book was its repetitive nature. Nora enters the Midnight Library. Nora goes into a new life of hers. Nora learns something. Nora goes back to the Midnight Library. Repeat cycle. 

Again, this isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but the repetitive nature was aggravating and made me not want to read. I wanted to shake Nora and tell her the solution to her own problems (which were glaringly obvious). For some people, I’m sure this repetitive nature was expected and welcome. For me, it made the plot dry and not engaging. 

My last point is that Matt Haig as a writer is good. His writing style is simple, but effective. He has some poignant points that resonated with me and truly made me stop and think, which is always a great sign in a book. 

However, I also feel like he tried too hard to be deep. This is more of a personal critique, and I wholeheartedly understand if people disagree with me. That being said, every chapter where Nora experiences a different life, Matt Haig offers some profound epiphany, that was, to me, generally not very profound. 

At the end of the day, this was a simple book. Vini, vidi, vici. I came, I saw, I conquered. Or, in this case, I received, I read, I finished. This book won’t have a lasting impression on me, but that’s okay. It was an enjoyable, simple read talking about living life to the fullest. If this sounds like a book you need or would enjoy, I say go for it. 

If you want something a little more engaging, a little more surprising, and a little more unique, I would steer clear. 

Recommendation: I genuinely think this novel would be better off as a short story. It wasn’t bad, but the plot dragged after Nora’s third life. It’s a simple story with a good theme that will remind you to not give up. That being said, the main reason I finished it was so that I could move onto another book. Take what you will from that. 

Score: 5/10

[cosplayinamerica]

I had the opportunity to send some questions to Andrew Liptak about his new book Cosplay: A History so I asked him about his cosplaying days first.

1) What was your first cosplay and what are you working on currently?

My first “real” costume after Halloween costumes was an Imperial Stormtrooper. It was a costume that I’d coveted ever since seeing A New Hope in theaters in 1997, and I’d spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to make one. In my final year of high school, my high school band played music from Star Wars (I played trumpet), and we were able to get a member of the 501st Legion to come and join us.

His costume blew me away, and that summer, he sold me an FX kit (the then-standard Stormtrooper costume that was out there), which I then assembled and wore for a little over a decade before I replaced it with a more accurate version. I still have it: it’s on a mannequin in my basement.

I’ve got a couple of random projects in the works now that are in pretty early stages. I have a Shoretrooper kit from 850 Armor Works that I’ve been piecing together. I’d originally bought it for my wife, but she sort of lost interest, so I’m planning on doing it up as a Captain variant of that particular costume. I also have a First Order stormtrooper kit that I want to put together to replace my existing FOTK (this new kit is plastic, so it’s much, much lighter than my current fiberglass costume.) And finally, I have a 212th Airborne Clone from Revenge of the Sith that is done: I just need to get it to fit me.

2) Has cosplay impacted your life personally?

Cosplay has impacted my life considerably: it provided a community at a time when I most needed it in the years after college. After graduating, I had disposable money and a car, so I was frequently out and about throughout New England trooping with my local 501st garrison. I’ve made some of my best friends in the world through the group, and it’s still a big part of my life.

But it’s also imparted an element of what I call “practical creativity”. I grew up in a household that had a workshop and I learned from my dad how to do things like cut wood, construct things out of it, change my own oil in my car, and generally do things on my own: working with my hands. Cosplay reinforced that: it’s helped me realize that with time, patience, and a little research, you can do a lot of things on your own: I’ve painted houses, redid my bathroom, fixed leaks/cracks/carpet/siding, etc at my house, and found creative solutions that I might not have arrived at if I hadn’t spent time building costumes. I know more about glue, paint, cutting materials, and whatnot, because of that experience.

3) What trends have you seen in cosplay from when you first started till today?

There are so many things that have changed! I think the first is just how popular science fiction and fantasy franchises have come since I started back in 2003: Star Wars has always been a mainstream thing, but the act of cosplaying has come a long way along with that growing popularity. Those films and genres have always been popular for good reasons: they’re exciting and interesting, and it’s good to see people reacting to it more and more, and with less shame than they might have before.

There are two other big trends that come to mind: the advances in how we use materials to build costumes has changed quite a bit. Materials like EVA foam and Worbla weren’t nearly as popular when I started, so the adoption of those materials makes it easier for cosplayers to start in on this hobby. Things like 3D printing and YouTube tutorials also really help.

The other is logistics, helped along by big online platforms like Amazon or Etsy: it’s easier than ever to buy a costume or the components. When I bought my first set of armor back in 2003, I had to know a guy who know a guy. Now, you can just click a couple of buttons.

4)  What's the process like in writing this book?

Long. The pitch for me to write it first came in 2016: the earlier version would have been entirely about the 501st Legion. But as I researched, I realized that I couldn’t just tell the story of the group: I had to expand it out beyond its borders to talk about the context of where it came from, which is what this ultimately became.

From there, it was a matter of coming up with an outline, which guided what I had to research: there was a lot of work in finding early examples of cosplay, looking through documents and records from older conventions and fan groups to try and get a clear story for how this hobby evolved over the decades.

The other component of that was interviews: I attended a whole bunch of cons in 2019 before the pandemic, and interviewed a whole bunch of folks about their experiences and history as cosplayers, and photographing them at cons. It was a lot of fun. It was also the tip of the iceberg: there are so many people in the cosplay field, with so many stories, and while I got a good cross-section of folks, there were so many rocks that I’d tip over to find a whole new thread of stories and people to talk to. But, the reality of the book is that there are deadlines and a finite number of pages, so you take what you can get and work with it.

5)  Has the book changed from the original conception to how it is today?

Very much so. As I noted a moment ago, I had originally set out to put together a book about the history of the 501st Legion. That didn’t end up happening for a variety of reasons, but I repackaged and repitched it as a history of cosplay as a whole. (The original title was Knights in Plastic Armor). I’m happy that I did that, because the larger story of cosplay is rich and fascinating.

But even while writing the book, we made some significant changes. I had originally outlined the book in three parts: When We Cosplay, Why We Cosplay, and House We Cosplay, which has been reorganized a bit for this final version (it’s much stronger now). There were also some interesting topics that I came across while researching: a picture of a reenactment in the 1800s led me down the path of living history and military reenactments, which I included. A chance encounter with a book about Jules Verne led me to track down details about a costume party he threw, and things like that: every new revelation brought with it new details to uncover, and every new interviewee brought me new fidelity to the history.

A good example here is a woman named Astrid Bear, who was heavily involved in the science fiction fan community. She was party to a lot of those early developments from an early age, and she outlined something really interesting to me in my interview with her: Star Trek had a huge impact on the cosplay community, because the costumes were relatively comfortable. When the show arrived, costuming at cons was largely restricted to designated times for specific events. When Star Trek arrived, it brought in new fans, but also new attitudes: fans started wearing the costumes in the halls (there was some friction from long-term con goers about this!) and that change in culture helped to bring about the con environment that we see these days.

6)  Were there topics cut from the book that you hope to revisit one day?

Not so much things that were cut: we made some cuts for length and clarity where I got a little too into the weeds, but there were some things that I’d hoped to have gotten to that I didn’t end up covering that much: I wanted to do a chapter about Furries, but just didn’t get to that. I also wanted to put together a chapter about the KKK and how they used masks to convey their horrible views, and the repercussions that came with that: masking laws and whatnot that still are on the books today. Author Arthur Conan Doyle liked to dress up as his character Professor Challenger, which I learned too late to include as another early example.

I’m hoping though, to actually write those chapters (and some others — I have a short list) up, and release them to my newsletter, Transfer Orbit as a series that I’m thinking I’ll call the “Lost Chapters”, which should be fun to do in the coming months.

7) Advice for first time cosplayers?

I think the best advice that I have is to make characters that you love: don’t pay attention to the cycle that we’ve found ourselves in where everyone rushes to make the most popular character of the moment (and by extension, don’t get sucked into the world of social media likes and churn). Make that obscure character that you’ve always wanted to do, take the time to make the costumes that you want to make, rather than rushing to meet a self-imposed deadline or to stay relevant.

Also, make sure you use proper ventilation when you’re using chemicals / sanding / painting, etc., wear safety equipment, and so forth. Safety first!

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Hey, did I ever tell you people about that time my friend died, and for the next few weeks, for some reason the only music I could listen to was Nirvana, The Clash, and Lucinda Williams? I’m really not sure why it was those three, but they were the only things I could listen to that didn’t immediately make me want to cry. Specifically, the albums Nevermind (obviously), London Calling, and Car Wheels on a Gravel Road.

I think The Clash and Nirvana may have occurred because I was just finishing Never Mind the Buzzcocks at the time, and those were featured at some point, reminding me that those bands existed so I decided to start listening to them again. Not sure why Lucinda Williams came into it. She was just there.

I saw her live for the first time ever last summer, which is a bit surprising given all the time I’ve spent at folk festivals throughout my life. But I’d never been at a festival when Lucinda Williams was also there. She came to town last June, and I saw her with my father, and it was awesome.

I know it was June because it was the weekend after they overturned Roe v Wade, and I was so depressed about everything that I almost didn’t bother going. I often don’t like how much American politics affect the general mindset in Canada. How something big can happen in the States and the next day everyone here is talking about it, while big things happen in Canadian politics and people barely notice. I don’t want my mental state to be tied to American things, I try not to be.

But this was marked out because it was so monumental. A massive, incredibly difficult to overturn shift that will touch everything and everyone there. I don’t like the way Canadians tend to care more about what happens in America than what happens here, but that doesn’t mean I have no empathy. I have friends and family in the States, not to mention the ability to care about people even if I don’t know them. Also, all the toxic stuff that happens in America makes its way up here. When I saw Russell Howard live and he discussed the trucker protests, he asked us if it was a “wave of stupidity” that blew north from America, and he was joking, but yes. Yes that is what happened, if by “wave of stupidity” you mean “lots of American money and disinformation campaigns to spread their dangerous rhetoric here”. Canada tends to pretty consistently five or six years behind the States that way, though that one was accelerated. So yeah, even selfishly, Canadians have reason to be worried about the Roe v Wade thing.

Lucinda Williams acknowledged it a bit in her set, as it had just happened, and was on everyone’s minds. She declared “This song is for the U.S. Supreme Court” before playing You Can’t Rule Me, which was a nice sentiment even if it’s demonstrably untrue; she’s an American citizen and they 100% rule her.

At the end, she left the stage, and then came back amid giant cheers. I went through which of her best songs she hadn’t played, trying to guess at her encore. She didn’t play of her own songs, she played Neil Young’s Keep on Rocking in the Free World. Something that fairly clearly made a point, given its verse about the young woman who gives birth to a baby she can’t care for.

The crowd, up to that point, had been fairly subdued. This is because while we weren’t technically at a folk festival, it was a folk festival crowd. My dad, at age 64, was one of the youngest people there. Folk festivals are populated almost entirely by people older than my father, who were hippies in the 60s and 70s and now they sit in fields and listen to the sort of music that used to represent this. They don’t tend to do a lot of physically demonstrating their enjoyment, because they’re tired.

But something genuinely cool happened during that last Lucinda Williams song. The whole crowd got really into it. All around me, people stood up. Men and women with long grey hair – nothing says “folk festival” like a man with a tie-dye shirt and a grey ponytail, the aging hippie – started dancing. People were raising fists in the air like that probably meant something once. And I’m pretty sure every single person in the field was singing along.

I did not stand up, because I can talk a lot on here about loving things like that, but have difficult actually expressing these things in in-person situations. Also, I was next to my father, to whom what I just said applies tenfold. He is not the stereotypical “emotionless father”, because he’s quite liberal in his political views. He was, in fact, a hippie in the 70s. He has stories about seeing both Neil Young individually, and Crosby/Stills/Nash/Young, in their heyday, and it sounds awesome. But he doesn’t have long grey hair now. He grew up to be a pragmatic government worker.

I think he did sing along a bit to Keep on Rocking in the Free World, but only at a reasonable volume, from his lawn chair. So I followed his lead. To be honest, I had a lump in my throat from the outpouring of expression around me, all these people with hands in the air and yelling along to this song and just looking for something good, after everything. I think I saw tears in the eyes of a few people around me. I had to make sure I did not follow suit, what with being in public and my father and everything.

At the end of the song, Lucinda Williams yelled, “The people have the power!” before leaving the stage for good. The crowd erupted in renewed cheers at that, and my father just muttered, “No they don’t.” He didn’t mean the people shouldn’t have the power. He just meant, you know, they don’t. Like how the U.S. Supreme Court can, in fact, rule its citizens. Of course it can. Grow up.

I told my dad that maybe these people just want to feel some power for a few moments, in this field where it doesn’t mean anything. And wasn’t he one of those people out there, “rocking in the free world” to Neil Young songs back in the day? “Exactly,” he said. “Back in the day. Come on, what are these people doing? They haven’t rocked in years.” My dad has one hell of an ability to ruin a moment.

Anyway, whether or not we agree that the people have the power, my dad and I did agree that it was a fantastic concert. For me, the encore was the highlight, but I was disappointed that she didn’t play Metal Firecracker, which was the main song I played over and over for three weeks, two years ago, when my friend had died and there were only a few things I could stand to hear.

Someday, I am going to get my life together enough so I can afford to fly to the UK and see things. In person. When that happens, I am going to play that last song on repeat for the entire flight, even though I am aware that taking a tourist trip to London to see comedy and comedy-related locations was not exactly what The Clash were writing about when they crafted this song.

[kovaipaavai]

Expectations are the death of relationships.

I used to be very close to this cousin of mine as a child . Our mothers were siblings and we were born two weeks apart . So throughout our childhood , the parental units insisted that we were as good as siblings and that’s what I assumed as well .

Our vacations were spent at each other’s places and we wore similar clothes. I counted her as my sister , best friend and first confidant up until late teens where our roads diverged . Academic success and economic disparity and career aspirations started to create a wedge between us that I desperately tried to bridge . There was constant stonewalling and ghosting on one end and I was desperate enough to keep connecting , calling and texting as I saw her as my sister and best friend and then she moved countries and life kept both of us busy .

By the time our paths met again in USA seven years later , we had evolved into fundamentally different people . I still saw her as family , wherein she saw me as a distant acquaintance whose presence was tolerated but not welcome . I still expected close sisterhood and kept getting disappointed when my gestures were not reciprocated . She was the first person to know about the feelings I harbored for a boy I was talking to , the first person to know that I fell in love with the said boy and the first to know that I was getting married . I was one of the last people to know that she had been in a relationship and was getting married and the last person to know that she was leaving the country and regrettably , and just like that our paths diverged forever .

Whenever I dreamt of getting married , I imagined her by my side through the key events and I imagined myself playing the same role at her wedding , but that did not come to pass . I then set my own boundaries and moved on with my life . We are polite acquaintances now . I still text her on her birthday and anniversary without expecting a reply and I don’t expect her to wish me on my birthday or anniversary.

I still text her when I hear she’s going through some illness or when she has significant milestones . I still text her when I have news to share but somehow am accustomed to deafening silences on the other end . I still don’t hear back but over the years I’ve become okay with it . Today is a significant day in her life and if someone had asked me a decade ago where I’d be on this day , I’d have said right by her side . My parents are at her event now and keep sending me photographs and talking about her little one . I request my parents to please keep me on an information diet - I was not invited or told of the event for a reason and I want to be respectful of boundaries . So I ask them to give her my wishes . I pray for her health and well being and move on with my life .

Expectations are always the death of relationships - especially when they change over a period of time and one has to come to terms with it and move on . That was a hard but inevitable lesson I learnt early in my tweens . I don’t have any regrets about how my relationship with my cousin died a natural death . I would be forever indebted to her for having my back and being my sister for however long she did . I only wish that we could have had a conversation about our expectations like adults and sought some form of closure .

People say that it pains like hell when romantic relationships end . I’d say that it pains much more when the bonds of sisterhood are irrevocably destroyed . I’ve since tempered my expectations from my cousins but I’m still a wee bit jealous when I look at other cousins whose friendship and sisterhood has survived the test and grown tighter and I hope and pray that I find friends like family some day or the other for it’s never too late .

[annakie]

One last self-indulgent Patchy post, from almost two weeks out.

It’s been some time. 

I’ve mostly been off tumblr, letting the queue run things.  Occasionally scrolling the dash, not much social media lately, it was a bit Too Much outside of some direct chats with friends and running/coordinating D&D stuff.

The weekend post-death I hibernated a lot.  I let myself cry as much as I wanted.  I reminded myself, and I may have posted this here, I don’t remember, but that the only good way through grief is to go right through it.

My work sent a nice little snack gift box.  Not much I liked in it, but the thought was very much appreciated.  And the vet sent the flowers I posted about last week.

It was a little better Sunday.  I ran my Sunday Night D&D game and just made sure to have a cry in the hour before to get it all out.

Last week was fine.  Still crying every day, but a little less every day.  I spent a lot of time on the couch watching Netflix when I wasn’t working.  And honestly, I didn’t work that much most days.  Watched mostly like, home makeover/cleanup shows.  You know, things that make you feel vaguely good without having to actually think. 

Better Call Saul finale and other ongoing shows were good distractions. 

Thursday I got the call that Patchy’s ashes were ready for pickup. I went in Friday at lunch.  Thanked the receptionist for the flowers they sent (which are still in the house but need to be thrown out.) 

Took the very nice little bag they gave me back to the car and looked inside.  The box with her ashes, tied up in a pretty ribbon,  I ran my hands over the very pretty box, and opened the box with the plaster paw print. There was also an envelope I declined to open at the time.  I cried for a few moments, got some takeout, went home.

Sat down and opened the envelope and saw the fur clipping in the little bag and for the first time in a couple of days I completely lost it.  A long, sobbing cry.

When I’d left the vets office after putting her to sleep I nearly went back in to ask them to save a clipping of her fur, but decided not to.  I knew I couldn’t have gotten through it.  And I thought about emailing them later but thought it might be too late by the time I thought if it and wasn’t 100% sure I wanted it.  I have a little clipping of Cebu’s poodle hair though, and it means a lot to me to still have.  But I decided not to.

So seeing that they’d done it anyway, without me asking, meant a lot, but also it hurt a lot.  I was so very relieved and yet it was also like a sledgehammer.  Having her ashes, and a little bit of her where they’d found a perfect intersection of her three colors was so thoughtful.  But it was also like that final “she’s really gone and she’s not coming back” moment.  Where mentally you knew it, but it’s what the heart needed for it to be final.

I at first put the three things on the shelves behind me here in the office/living room next to Jim’s ashes and picture but realized about thirty seconds later that that was wrong, the living room wasn’t her room.

I have a little knick-knack shelf in the bedroom filled with ceramics and figurines people had given me throughout the years for various reasons.  I curate it and swap things out occasionally but for the most part it’s just little mementos and decoration.  There was a tea light lamp on the top of it that was a thank you gift for helping run a big baby shower about 14 years ago, so I moved that lower on the shelf and set Patchy’s things on the top.  The master bedroom was her domain for six years, so a little space for her there seems right.

I’ve felt more at peace since doing that.  I spent a lot of time second guessing myself the first week.  And I still wonder if I should have done more.  Especially still kicking myself for not taking her back in two or three weeks earlier.  We may have bought her another couple of weeks of life if I had, but realistically I know time was drawing short, and she’d outlasted her best estimates.  I’m mostly at peace with it.  I don’t know if I’ll ever stop self-doubting, just a teensy bit.

Fry moved himself back into the master bedroom immediately upon my opening it back up, and barely has left it since.  It took Pemily a couple of days to understand that yes, it’s OK for you to be in here now.  It’s OK to get up on the bed.  You can sleep with me again.  They are both loving it.  Fry especially is rarely not in there when he’s not eating.  He used to watch TV with me all the time and now that’s just sometimes. 

There’s a small cat tree that Patchy loved to sit under but not into.  It’s Fry’s favorite thing.  I’d always kicked myself for not buying two when I bought the one on clearance.  Patchy literally never got into the bucket seat.  The few times I’d let Fry in there when Patchy was around he’d mostly just hang out in it, and now he is in it like 50% of the time.

He and Pemily are both sleeping with me again which is... mostly good.  They’re a lot more restless than Patchy.  They’re both also way heavier than her -- Fry is like 13lbs and Pemily is like 18 whereas Patchy was 10 or less. So when they wake me up to want to cuddle, it’s a lot more noticeable and there’s, you know, two of them.  Sleeping with the bedroom door open again is great insofar as it’s no longer stuffy in there as soon as the AC goes off, but also brighter with the hall nightlight shining into the room, and noisier as I can hear all three of them moving around and using the litterbox when they need it.  Leela also likes to just scream randomly, and it’s a lot louder with the door open.  Leela has walked around the bedroom but as usual, prefers her bed on the desk.

Peaches -- who I saw this week is actually a boy -- and Buster have been outside a lot.  I am in the beginning stages of seeing what I can do to domesticate them.  Peaches seems more likely than Buster. Going to change Peaches name, especially if I can get him inside/vetted/snipped/safe if possible.  Hoping Fry can handle it well if I can get one of them integrated into the house. 

Four is my limit, but Leela is 17.5.  Realistically, I know I won’t have a lot of time left with her.  Ever since her health scare last year I’ve been doing my best to give her the best, especially now Patchy is gone.  Her last few vet visits have gone great though, so who knows.  Maybe she’ll live to 20.  I’ve been trying not to pre-mourn her since the last 13 months were about pre-mourning Patchy.

ANYWAY. Aside from ALL THE CAT NEWS I went and played D&D4e at Marcus’ on Friday, and this Saturday is 13th Age game night.  Running my Wednesday night game tonight and going to run my SUnday night game.. tomorrow?  Since we’re in the middle of like, the Most Important Part of this campaign TBH and everyone wants to know what happens and not take a week off when someone can’t make it this weekend.  Also just going to run a B-team game for the rest of them Sunday anyway.

Gaming is healing.

Have been dicking around in Enderal, just going exploring/dungeon diving a lot and ignoring the main quest.  Just a few hours every few days.  I also replayed Boyfriend Dungeon since the DLC came out and I had only played it on release.  They’d added some cool stuff. I meant to treat someone else as my main romance this time but honestly, Isaac is perfect.  Still romanced everyone possible to romance except Sawyer (too young, too immature.  Nice kid) and let Sunder break up with me this time instead of me rejecting him for being... what he is.  It was a nice, light, fluffy break.

Also watched Abbot Elementary, and loved it.  Need more please.

Today is the first day this work week I’ve had a cry about Patchy.  And mostly because I re-read my previous entry to prepare for this one.  I am coming out of the grief stage, not there yet.  But getting close.  I miss her a lot.  I think about her often, but I am starting to move on.

[fairy-flying-high]

Heterosexuality is engraved into our minds as “normal” from a very young age.

I was about 6 when I knew I wasn’t “normal”. I remember looking at my mom, scared, and saying “Mommy, please don’t hate me…. But I think I might be gay”.

(She didn’t hate me, FYI. Said she didn’t care who I loved, as long as I was happy and they treated me right… then she asked what I wanted for supper, and we went about our evening.)

As the years went by, there was still the shame and the stigma associated with not being straight. After all, theres like 6000 people where I live. Thats it. And a very HIGH Christian/Catholic population.

I would be in one straight passing relationship after another. But I ALWAYS knew that it didn’t feel right.

Kissing a man was uncomfortable. Touching a man felt… wrong. It was always so mentally difficult.

But I went with what was always expected of me. Date a boy. Fall in love with him. Plan to marry him. Blah blah blah.

I was 13 when I came out as Bisexual. My grandmother looked at me and asked how I knew. “Everyone looks at girls and think’s they’re pretty”. But it wasn’t just that they were pretty. I didn’t want to BE them… I wanted to be WITH them. I thought they were the most magnificent creatures placed on this earth. But…. They terrified me. Talking to girls was my worst nightmare. So, all my friends were guys.

One of my friends, we’ll call him “Morgan”, fell in love with me the day we met. (This was a few months before I came out as Bi.)

Morgan and I instantly clicked and became best friends. We did almost everything together. First thing that happened when we’d get home? Right to XBOX to game with him and some other friends.

My gods… I was so in love with this guy and I was too scared to say anything.

So… we date other people throughout the years. I hate Morgan’s girlfriends, he hates my boyfriends. Typical jealousy stuffs. We eventually drift apart, and I enter an abusive relationship.

Fast forward a couple years, I FINALLY leave my abuser and want Morgan back in my life, because he’d always been there for me. I needed my rock. So we start talking again. It was almost like nothing had happened.

And then.

We eventually get together. Morgan and I date for 4 years, and on our 4th anniversary, he asked me to marry him. Obviously, I said yes. I loved this man with my entire being.

But.

Something was still off. I didn’t want it to be the case… I wanted to marry him with all of my being. I loved him more than I’d loved anything in my entire life. I wanted us to work. I wanted to be “normal” and have that life with him. And I tried. Even before he proposed, I tried. And it almost killed me.

3.5 months later, I tell him that I think I might be gay. I hoped he’d stay. Just long enough to talk. I was so scared and I needed him. But he called his mother and had her pick him up. We didn’t get to talk for a month or so because he blocked me.

What I wanted to tell him, was I wanted to try alternative lifestyles. I never wanted to lose Morgan. By the time he unblocked me and was ready to talk, he was already talking to and sleeping with, someone else.

This shattered me. It still kind of does, if I’m being honest with myself. He was still the last person I’d had any contact with. I’d hoped we could talk about it and see how we could make things work, but deep down I knew that he’d find someone else before he’d ever have that conversation with me. And I was right.

So, knowing that any chance of keeping him, regardless of how we *might* have been able to work through it was gone, I came out as a Non-Binary Lesbian on Easter (April 17th), 2022, at the age of 25.

We’ve since been able to rekindle our friendship, but I would never be able to have the conversation with him now that I wanted to have when he left.

I’ve started talking to someone else now, and my gods she is so amazing. She makes me feel like I’m no longer alone. I actually feel heard with her.

It’s with her guidance and support that I’m sharing my story. She’s lifted me up from the rock bottom I felt I was unable to escape.

We met on Tiktok. She’s sadly in another country, but we’re making things work the best way we can right now. I can’t wait to finally see her in person.

Feel free to follow along for updates. I’m sure she’ll get me to share some more as the time goes by. 🥰

Always remember. Love wins. You are loved and you are valued. Just because today might suck, doesn’t mean that the rest of your life has to. Always be true to yourself. You’re the only one that matters the most in your own life.

Never let society tell you who you can or can’t be.

[katevd]

Dear Trevor

Today is strange.

As soon as we lost Trevor, I gained something. I started watching his videos, everything I had missed in 10 years. Through my grief I created. I started podcasting, I started doing what I had been putting off because why would anyone give a fuck about me or my stuff? I lost that fear. I could not waste my pain, a month and a half of mourning my childhood hero, and even if it was at the end of my childhood, I still needed Trevor and WKUK to be there for me. They became my adult Sesame Street. They became my happy space. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen season one of WKUK, blaring it throughout my house while home alone, staying home from high school my senior year dying my hair bleach blonde, listening to the Never song rushing into the living room saying ‘Did he just tell them how to make meth?’ They became my happy space.

And again, they are my safe space. The boiz, they have seen me in chat, read my comments. All of them have laughed at something I said…just not Trev. I found their videos and community after. I wish Trev would have seen me around, seen me as a fan. I’m sure he’d have some funny thing to say about my Tumblr or being friends with Carlotta but I wouldn’t mind, he’d be right. I wish I could tell him how he changed my life, saved my life during my parents’ divorce and my own PTSD bullshit. I felt like the coolest kid I knew because I watched a sketch group on FUSE. A part of a special club for dark humour and smart jokes.

I pray that his family is ok today; I pray that his son will grow up knowing his father was the coolest guy around, and everyone who knew him knew this too. We have hours and hours of him on video. The last year of his life spent with his best friends talking about their great show. What a blessing that the pandemic brought to us, 5 of the most talented guys I know sharing their experiences with us. And made us laugh.

I send love to his friends, Zach, Sam, Darren and Timmy. I pray that knowing how loved their friend and founder is bringing them some comfort. I thank them for all their work they’ve continued to do. They have strength, wild abundance of strength to march forward as they did. And to all the fans who kept on as well, we’re all much more powerful than we think.

Here are some things I think could help today:

1)      Write something, anything. A stupid story, something you’ve been meaning to write for a long time but never got started. Being creative this weekend has helped, tons. Even a nasty poem will work. As Trev says ‘You gotta make cum to be cum!”

2)      Call your family. Text an old friend. Tell them you’re thinking about them, love them. Ask them how their summer is going. Reach out to someone you’ve been meaning to say hello to. Tell the people you love you love them now. Have no regrets today.

3)      Open the door for someone. Tell someone they look good. Just spread kindness, we all need it more than ever. Was Trevor the best guy all the time? No. But was he good person some of the time, yeah. He loved his wife and his kid and he loved his work. Spread that love around.

4)      Be grateful for today. Be grateful for the things you have, even if it’s very little. Say out loud ‘I am grateful for ___” let the universe know how thankful you are and the things you hold dear.

5)      And finally, just jump into a sketch. Listen to a Trev song, watch some of the 24 hour marathon show, just be with him today. Leave a uplifting comment. Something like that to share the love.

                   Trevor, I love you and I miss you. I wish I got to say something to you while you were with us but now I get to bug your friends and I’m sure you’d laugh at that. You saved my life. You made my life worth living. You were the light at the end of the teenage angst tunnel and without you I’d be lame like everyone else. Keep watching over all of us dolllickers and inspiring us to be fearless, brave, funny and smart. We miss you so much, but your light keeps giving.

Love forever, Kate.