#there was one post i saw a zillion years ago that was something like

[scribefindegil]

I post a lot about how it’s vitally important to be comfortable with making Bad Art if you are a beginner, but I’m struggling a lot with being comfortable making Bad Art due to a loss of capacity. All those quotes about wresting with the gap between understanding and execution hit a lot harder when you used to be able to execute really beautiful, complicated things and now you can’t.

I think a lot about Terry Pratchett’s later books, especially the last one. It’s not as good as what he used to write. You can feel the impact that his illness had on it. It makes it hard to read at times.

I’m still glad that he wrote it.

Since my curse got worse over the summer, all my thoughts are slow and fuzzy. I struggle to remember words and to make connections. I’m not capable of entering the “flow” of writing anymore; every single word is like raising a stone block out of a quarry. My sentences feel clunky and off-kilter. I hate it.

I’d decided that this meant I just couldn’t write anymore.

I think I’ve changed my mind.

I know I can’t write the way I used to, and that’s really hard and frustrating. But giving up and saying, “Well, this means I can’t ever tell stories unless my brain comes back” was just making me more miserable. So I’m going to try. It’s okay if it takes a long time. It’s okay if they aren’t very good. I don’t have to push through if it’s too hard for me to get joy out of it or it ends up making my health worse. But I don’t have to write it off as a lost cause either.

[thecrackedbead]

The Cracked Bead (eventually) goes to market

---

A totally authentic, unmodified picture of myself.

---

So I did it. I. did. It. I DID IT!!!

What was it exactly that I did? I probably should have started with that. The title of this entry does little to explains.

Let's try fix that...

The why of things

A couple months ago, I signed up for a craft fair taking place at the Marpole Neighbourhood House. This event has been a long time coming as I started dabbling in selling my creations a couple years ago but from a chromatic financial perspective, the dozen or so leafs that are the Green have been quickly consumed by the bonfire that is the Red.

Don't get me wrong. I predominantly bead for fun. It's a hobby, but I'd be lying if I didn't have the odd day dream of *gasp* making money or climbing up to the shining pinnacle where it is a successful full-time career. Obviously, a craft fair would be an excellent way to work towards it. I would get experience selling, network with my fellow crafters and, well, sell things.

Sensible right? Of course it was, but for me sensible isn't necessarily easy.

The how of things

A couple things got in my way. The most obvious one being finding a craft fair. Internet searches sent me to massive craft events in many of Vancouver's biggest indoor venues. Unfortunately such events cost an arm and a leg to pay for a table or, barring that, my first born. The former was impossible as I need both arms to bead and I am sadly lacking an offspring to bargain with. Also I couldn't afford paying with large quantities of cash as that was not in my budget.

Logically, there would be other smaller craft fairs that cost less and didn't deal in mutilation or permanent child-care but the internet was not being helpful in that respect. I, of course, could use it to reach out British Columbian crafters for suggested venues or go to the bigger craft fairs and chat up those crafters. Great game plan!!! Except... Uhm... Here's where we come to the other complication. The complication that is me.

Before I go on, I think it is EXTREMELY important to state that the following problems only crop up when I’m the only one who benefits from my success. Put me in a workplace or abandon with a horde of small, needy and vulnerable babies and I’ll do well, if not excel. Though in the latter, I’ll do this by calling the police on the person responsible as why they have a horde of babies and why they left them with only a single person to care for them is a touch suspect.

Now that we have that out of the way, I have mentioned in my blog is not just about beading but about mental health. I find blatantly exposing it to the world actually helps me. Putting a neat definition on anything involving the mind is tricky so I'll stick more to one of its effects in this post. I'd have my excellent plans of how to find a craft fair and suddenly come up with one billion ZILLION reasons why I wasn't ready for one. I needed more merchandise, more busts to display them on, my merchandise was shit, no one would like my beautiful merchandise, Ineededevenmoremerchandise,morebusts,mymerchandisewasstillshit,stillnoonewouldliemy merchandise,etc,etc,etc - OH LOOK! SOMETHING SHINY! - etc.

..Sigh. That is my brain in its anxious procrastination mode.

Thus, one day, when I was heading home and I saw the poster for the Marpole Neighbourhood House's Christmas craft fair and had the inkling that I afford this one, my inner monologue was a deluge of "Do it. Don't think. Do it. DO NOT THINK!" as to wash away other, nastier thoughts before they took hold.

I looked it up on my cell. It turned out to be too late to sign up for that one but I did put myself on the notification list, all the while continuing with "Do it. Don't think. Do it. DO NOT THINK!" (How it is possible to sign up without thinking, let alone think to I am not sure. Maybe I'm talking to my nuttier side?) A month later, the notification came and after about of a week of dithering back and forth on the worthiness of my stuff with breaks for - OH LOOK UP IN THE SKY! IT'S SUPERMA - Wait, that's just the sun. - BUT ISN'T IT PRETTY?! - I managed to sign up. I'm not sure how.

Thankfully, once I'm committed, things becoming considerably easier. My self-sabotaging self sulks in the corner periodically where she makes the occasional snide comments. Whatever. I am a Vancouverite. A little rain on my parade was hardly going to stop me.

Naturally, it snowed instead.

The snow on my parade

Now, this is the part where my fellow Canadians start laughing at me and the rest of Greater Vancouver. Snow is what we're known for and Vancourites, uh, start panicking when there's a half a centimetre of the stuff on the ground. To be fair to us, in our considerably more temperate climate, we don't have the infrastructure for it. So when, like last weekend we got 20-30 cm dumped on us overnight, things got complicated.

While the craft fair remained on, my initial car-borrowing plans to bring myself and my merch got torpedoed for safety reasons. I mulled over alternate arrangements while my self-sabotaging self hopped up and down in her corner, making comments that sounding annoyingly logical. Safety is important, cabs and Ubers are expensive, and with the snow, who knows how many customers would be there? But... even I had to turn back because of the weather, even if I didn't sell a thing, if I stopped myself now, who knows when I'd next be able to get up the guts to push my little dream out into the open?

Failure is the mark of a life well lived. In turn, the only way to live without failure is to be of no use to anyone. Trust me, I've practiced. — Brandon Sanderson, Oathbringer

Risk for potential mental well-being...Worth it?

The dramatic decision

At about 3:00 AM (stress had been messing with my sleep), I started packing all my stuff into my backpack and a heavy, giant clunker of a rolling suitcase I own. I'd take transit to get to the general area and wade though the Devil's Dandruff as necessary. I WOULD make it to the fair. Whatever happened next, that had to be worth something.

It had to.

The Journey

Here's the part where I tell you the trials and tribulations of my journey to the craft fair. Thing is...there weren't any unless the effort of dragging myself out of bed after the aforementioned early morning Dramatic Decision counts.

My step-dad drove me.

He had the right type of tires and driving experience and, knowing how much the entire thing meant to me, offered. I got to the fair easily, in good time and the weather turned out better than the forecast predicted.

Life can be weirder than fiction but typically is more boring. Given the type of fiction that I like reading, I'm happy for the anticlimax.

The Fair

What can I say about the actual craft fair. In some ways, I think I this is the dullest part to recount though, for myself, the most pleasurable as inner turmoil is only interesting after the fact, if ever.

I take a great deal of pride that many of the things I used in my set-up (the mirrors, the earring 'racks' and most of the linens) were thrifted or found at a discount. Even a fair bit of my jewelry are at least partially made from thrifted or salvaged beads. Much the clothes you see me wearing are too. I love thrifting. It's an addiction.

I was lucky enough to have my table positioned between the lovely Eleanor and Tracey. Eleanor had a selection of lovely handmade cards and gave me excellent advice involving social media to grow my business. Tracey sold a selection of decorated, handmade journals made from such things as vellum and exquisite glass bead earrings which almost made me wish to be next to a different vendor but this sentiment was fleeting, washed away by my admiration for her work and our neat discussions on bead craft. Both her and Eleanor made great company. They gave me freedom from boredom during the duller moments of the fair and generally were my cheerleaders.

---

Eleanor and Tracey respectively.

---

The journey home

Another anticlimax. Whoohoo!

Thank you, evil stepfather. Though you may want to check if you still qualify for the 'evil' status.

Next time?

I think I can do better. Here's a few thoughts:

The snow likely did do a number on my customer count.

I can experiment with my display. Things were missing due to the weather complications but at least I should have a sign. Maybe try a few setups and have internet people give me feedback. Invest in a 2x5 foot table possibly as least for demo purposes.

Try different sales tactics. I have a 'slight' tendency towards talking, particularly when nervous. This is great with some customers but can drive others off.

Get new business cards. The current ones don't display any jewelry on them though they do feature my lovely Cracked Bead icon. Also, I recently discovered that I put the, uh, wrong email address on it. Sigh.

Continue to reach out the local crafter community. Remember 99% of them are nice.

But above all, I need to get out there and do a fair again. Use the momentum before my doubts and distractions drag me downward.

There a place called Slice of Art that regularly hosts crafters for ~$50/table. More expensive than this last one and my doubts have Opinions on the matter, but...

Right now as I'm writing this, I'm going to open the sign up page, input my details and...

I DID IT!

---

Me again. Though my head looks strangely skinny compared to the first one.

---

[saucylittlesmile]

Stephan Potopnyk.

[ladyfawkes]

Eugene Appreciation Week - Day 1 - Childhood | The Trial and Tribulations of Fitzherbert and Schnitz

The Trial and Tribulations of Fitzherbert and Schnitz

Current word count: 3178

Current Rating: T for upcoming chapters

This is my version of that now-infamous RTA lost episode, "The Trial of Fitzherbert and Schnitz". Most of you are aware how I took issue with Disney having used both adoption AND Eugene's having adopted his lifelong persona as Flynn as a 20-minute throwaway plot. I'm gonna try to beef up that premise.

I suppose this is ALSO my way of refuting some of the (very limited) spoilery stuff I've read that's included in the upcoming traditionally published Flynn Rider novel.

My own plot line will be significantly darker than your average Disney plot, though.

------------------------------------------

Chapter 1: Sister Eunice

Several years into the past....

Arnie was skipping down the corridor just past the chapel, minding his own business, when suddenly a loud CRASH!!! sounded from just behind him. He whipped around to see an enormous new hole in a large ornate stained-glass window behind him that was intact just seconds ago.

Thinking one of the rowdier orphans to be at fault, Arnie ran to have a looksee outside. He was shocked to discover nobody except Sister Eunice opposite him next to the stone wall. Surely she couldn’t have been the one to shatter the window??

The young nun noticed him from outside the chapel though and hissed, “Arnie!! Arnie, don’t tell anybody you saw me here! Please. I’m trying to save Eugene!! I’m trying to save you all!! If anybody asks, especially Father Francis, tell them you saw Eugene throw a rock at the window. I can’t explain why, but it’ll help out. A LOT. Can you do that for me, please, Arnie? Would you do this to save your best friend, Eugene?” She was looking at him with frightened eyes, taking surreptitious furtive glances behind her.

Ten-year-old Arnie had stared back, wide-eyed, and had only barely begun to nod when Sis Eunice turned back, ran around the corner of the chapel toward Arnie’s right, and disappeared. Young Arnie was left standing there, mouth agape, wondering why on earth a nun - a nun!!! - would throw a heavy rock through a church-owned stained glass window. And especially a window that the children were told was hundreds of years old!

Not long after that, to his left, Arnie saw someone else outside out of the corner of his eye. The young boy instinctively hid behind the full partition of the wall where the stained glass window ended. It was Fr Francis, the priest for the local parish, walking at a brisk pace. And Arnie could’ve sworn the scary priest might be tracking Sis Eunice. Arnie and Eugene hadn’t ever been particularly fond of Francis. In fact, they went out of their way to avoid the older dour-faced man.

Although Fr. Francis was currently looking at the hole in the window from a ways off, he couldn’t see where Arnie was from his vantage point. Arnie slinked away to go find Eugene.

Turned out he bumped into Eugene almost immediately since Eugene had been in the chapel, waiting to meet up with Lord and Lady Boskin. Arnie stopped in his tracks at the sight of his friend, all freshly bathed, his hair combed, and so unexpectedly dressed in a new blue velvet skeleton suit, white stockings, silk shirt, and leather shoes. It was the latest modern fashion that all the rich boys were wearing in Vardaros. He knew that because Eugene told him every time they were fortunate enough to go to town with one of the sisters. Arnie would have to pry Eugene away from the shop window where Eugene’s face would sometimes get so close to the display that his nose print would remain on the glass. Arnie didn’t understand why Eugene cared about stuff like that. Fashion and velvet and lace. Orphans weren’t supposed to care. Food was more important anyway.

“I heard a terrible crash and came to investigate!” Eugene said breathlessly.

All thought of the broken window had flown from Arnie’s mind at the sight of his transformed best friend and he demanded, “What’re you wearing alla that for??”

Suddenly self-conscious, Eugene crammed his hands in his new pockets, stared at the floor, scuffed the sole of his new shoe against the mosaic tile and mumbled, “Fr Francis took me aside after breakfast to the rectory and said that Lord and Lady Boskin have chosen to adopt…..me.” He said it with the same amount of awe he felt when he first saw the suit in its parcel.

“....and….and you didn’t think to tell me any sooner? You were just gonna leave without saying goodbye?” accused Arnie, his eyes filling with tears. Eugene could see his pouting lips tremble from several yards away. “But...but I didn’t know either…!” protested Eugene, now fighting tears himself, before he was abruptly cut off.

As Arnie stood there simultaneously hating and envying Eugene, a whole crowd of people had arrived from both sides of the corridor, to all of the ensuing hullabaloo of the shattered window. Unfortunately, it was just in time to see these two boys standing by themselves right near the new gaping hole in the priceless stained glass window.

Fr Francis had reappeared inside followed by the Mthr Superior, Sis Eunice, several dozen children, and a few other nuns. Everyone was chattering and buzzing and arguing about which of the two boys had broken the window -- Arnie or Eugene. Perhaps both? Immediately they both protested their innocence and the bored aggressive older boys used the moment as an excuse to break out into a fight…

Two brawny red-headed boys quickly left the mob only to have one boy each bowl right into Eugene and Arnie. All four boys toppled over to the floor.

All of the other children started shouting, “FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!” and just before the redheads could land their first actual punches, Fr Francis easily intervened by grabbing both of their pulled-back fists, squeezing them, and ordering the boys to get up off their intended victims and up off the floor. They reluctantly complied. Then Francis ordered Arnie and Eugene off the floor and to follow him to his office.

As Eugene looked down in dismay at the visible dirt on his beautiful new suit, Sis Eunice surreptitiously put a comforting hand on his shoulder and said, in a voice so softly only he could hear, “Don’t worry -- these are play clothes. More than capable of taking a few layers of dirt from rambunctious young boys.” She always had a way to help him feel better….but this time, since he was effectively being frog-marched to the priest’s office over something he didn’t do, the good feeling didn’t last nearly long enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~((0))((0))((0))~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two Hours Earlier…..

Eugene had been called to the rectory by Fr. Francis immediately following breakfast. Without any prior notice whatsoever, he informed Eugene that Lord and Lady Boskin had actually chosen to adopt him!!!

Young Eugene couldn’t believe his luck! He wondered why he’d been chosen. What had the wealthy young couple seen in him? Even though he’d only been formally introduced once or twice, and had spoken only a few sentences to them, they chose him. And he supposed they seemed nice enough.

Eugene and most of the orphans had already seen the younger couple several times. He learned from the nuns over the past couple of years that the pair were evidently unable to have children of their own and as such, had been growing their own family a different way. Twice per year for the past two years, they had chosen a new child from amongst the orphans at this orphanage. Prior to their more formal choosing-times for each child, they would come to the orphanage for several trips and take turns meeting and chatting with the children. Yet this time, they had actually chosen Eugene.

Sis. Eunice had entered the rectory right behind Fr Francis and his announcement; the latter then vacated the building. Sis Eunice had taken Eugene by the hand and led him to the home’s water closet. And already waiting for him was a fresh bath -- mid-week, even! He was accustomed to every Saturday at most. For the first time in his life, Eugene was treated to his very own bath where the water was actually extra warm and didn’t contain the sloughed-off post-bathing scoodge from a zillion other children lurking in the bottom.

Eugene had seen the nuns sniffle and get misty-eyed plenty of times when other children had been adopted. But their crying was always rather delicate and they always tried to smile through it. However, as Sis Eunice helped him to properly wash his fingers, toes, and ears during what Eugene thought of as his luxurious bath, Sis Eunice also kept repeatedly bursting into tears. And apologizing for it. She seemed genuinely….worried.

The nuns weren’t supposed to have favorites but Eugene knew Sis Eunice was easily the most fond of him. She had arrived at the orphanage during the height of a disease outbreak which had very nearly claimed little Eugene’s life. And it would have done so too, if it weren’t for Sis Eunice’s dogged persistence. They had originally bonded over their funny-sounding first names. She’d turned her own name into a joke to try and give him a reason to smile….and it worked. Most if not all of the other nuns were quite hands-off but Sis Eunice believed in healing touch. As Eugene’s stricken body fought the virulent infection, the Sister held him, rocked him, and sang to him. After that, she promised to come back to the room that housed the most ill children and read aloud a story once she finished her rounds. She had sat closest to little Eugene as she read aloud “Flynnigan Rider and the Pirates of Penzance” for the very first time. It was the first time Eugene had become familiar with the novels.

And though Eugene hadn’t really noticed before (nun’s habits often made it difficult to tell who was older than whom) right now, after he learned he would soon be leaving the orphanage forever that day, it was almost as if Eugene were seeing Sis Eunice for the first time. And for the first time, he noticed how young she truly was. She had a spray of freckles across her face and a little space between her front teeth. A halo of strawberry blonde curls framed her face and perpetually worked their way out of her wimpole. It’s possible Sis Eunice was even younger than Lady Boskin.

He couldn’t help but notice as she had him put on a clean slick-feeling shirt -- a brand-new one, just for him!! -- yet that was only the beginning. Apparently with each chosen child, the adoptive couple provided a freshly purchased outfit from the shops in town. Even Sis Eunice couldn’t help but smile this time as she presented Eugene’s new clothes to him. She asked him to tug open the string holding the paper parcel together. He stared at the parcel, eyes darting between the string and the Sister’s face. “Another present?” he whispered in awe. “For me?” Inside lay a brand new velvet suit. “It’s my favorite color!” he squeaked in delight. “Cornflower blue!” And Sis. Eunice nodded with the same huge smile on her face as him. “Shall I?” she asked softly, reaching into the parcel so he could see the whole suit. Eugene was utterly thunderstruck now. He stared wide-eyed at this beautiful boughten suit which was already quite familiar to him.

“But this is the same…..” he trailed off as Sis Eunice finished for him, “It’s the same suit you’ve had your eye on all year in that shop window?” Mouth agape, Eugene nodded slowly, clearly still in shock.

Eugene recalled how Sis Eunice had begun reading the Flynnigan Rider story with a splash, quite literally, and encompassed the first three chapters. The very first words of the book started with Flynnigan Rider on the mains’l full on the mast of a tall ship, shouting, “As long as I possess air in my lungs, I shall never surrender!!” And right before an enemy bullet could pierce him, Rider had sprinted and dove off the end of the mains’l to plunge down into the sea below. Sis Eunice had taken a fresh mildly damp cloth and spun it above her head, so everyone could feel the ‘splash’. That’s all it took for her to hook every single one of her charges. Sis Eunice had read aloud in every voice. Acted out each scene. She had as many props as feasible. And at the end of chapter 3 that first night, she closed the book amidst many “awwws”, protests, and left the children clamoring for more and some even wanting to help star in the show. Six-year-old Eugene had finally found the strength to speak for the first time in days and tugged Sis Eunice’s robes. “Tomorrow? Please?” he whispered breathlessly. The Sister knelt down close by his ear and pushed his hair away from his fevered brow. “I’ll tell you what,” she said softly. “If you think you can stick around for me by this time tomorrow morning, I promise to come back and read for you. Deal?”

And she turned to the rest of the room, “Tonight’s life lesson from Flynnigan is to hold air in those lungs -- by breathing deeply -- so that you can keep fighting.” Eager to prove to Sis Eunice that he could be brave like Flynnigan Rider, he concentrated on breathing as deeply as he could. Though it was by far the most difficult and painful thing he’d ever done in his young life, he followed through with it nonetheless. And Sis Eunice had returned each morning and night, as promised, to divulge more of Flynnigan’s adventures and life lessons. By the time he was well enough about a week later, she’d ask for Eugene to actually promise to wait for her the next night and bit by bit, little Eugene had found the strength to come back from the brink. And it was all because of one (or was it two?) very special people -- Sis Eunice and Flynnigan Rider.

“Shall we dress you smartly then? It’s not proper for a young man of your new status to be prancing around, half-dressed, you know,” Sis Eunice teased, bringing Eugene back to the present. Usually he’d act silly in return but right now….as soon as he had the new trousers on….Eugene was overcome and couldn’t help but throw his arms around the Sister’s neck. “Thank you,” he whispered, “so much.” It was the nicest clothing -- the nicest anything -- that anyone had ever given him. And Sis Eunice thought he was misinterpreting who’d provided for him this suit but he wasn’t. “I know it wasn’t your money,” as Eugene was well aware that the nuns scarcely had more than the orphans due in large part to their vows of charity and poverty. And yet he replied, still embracing her, “But I just know that you had something to do with it somehow, Sis Eunice.”

She briefly taught him the tricks with helping Eugene learn how to dress himself up in the fancy new suit. It had a lot of buttons. Big shiny brass ones. She was insistent that none of her charges was going to be reliant on servants to dress them, even after they left the orphanage. Once Eugene was fully dressed in his new comfortably-tailored playsuit, Sis Eunice also presented to him new stockings and new mahogany leather shoes.

Sis Eunice looked adoringly...and then somberly at Eugene as the thunderstruck little boy could not stop studying his own reflection in a full-length mirror.

Though most boys hated baths, he actually liked them (especially when they were warm with fresh water) almost as much as he liked playing in the dirt. He wondered if he’d have his own bed at his new home. He wondered if he’d get to have a mattress, bedclothes, and a pillow every night.

“Well, I suppose it’s time,” said Sis Eunice with a watery smile. The pair of them began to head over to the parish chapel just off the orphanage and across the compound from the rectory. Halfway through the walk, Sis Eunice asked him to continue onto the chapel and said that she’d meet up with him again in a very short few moments. And that was apparently where he was supposed to meet up with Lord and Lady Boskin to sign the final papers and officially become their latest son for real. His heart skipped a beat at the thought.

After his arrival in the chapel, and within 3 minutes, he heard a very loud crash outside in the corridor to the right of his vantage point near the front of the chapel. He thought maybe he should stay put just in case, but his curiosity got the best of him and he went to investigate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~((0))~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, in the Office of the Clergy….

Arnie had been called into the clergy office with Fr Francis, Mthr Superior, and Sis Eunice. Eugene had been left outside to stew and fret by himself.

“So you witnessed Eugene Fitzherbert throw a rock at the stained glass?” said Fr Francis imperiously. Arnie’s wide frightened eyes kept darting back and forth between Fr Francis’s unpleasant features and Sis Eunice’s equally terrified eyes. She nodded imperceptibly to encourage Arnie to say yes. Arnie didn’t want to lie but he didn’t want to be the one who got in trouble either. Not to mention….it utterly broke his heart that Eugene was getting adopted and that he wasn’t even gonna say goodbye to Arnie. Thus Arnie looked to the floor and nodded downward at it half-heartedly.

Eugene was brought into the office and not even given a chance to defend nor explain himself.

“Naughty misbehaving boys who destroy priceless works of church art don’t deserve to get adopted,” Fr Francis began imperiously. “Remove that clothing at once. It’s no longer yours and you are no longer fit to wear it.” Poor Eugene recoiled in shock and horror and Sis Eunice stepped in to try and intervene. She shared scared looks with Arnie, even more frightened than before. “There’s no need for that, he hasn’t physically harmed anybody,” Sis Eunice reasoned, “there’s no reason to treat him like he’s a criminal. He just had an accident, that's all.”

Eugene kept backing further and further away, “Not adopted??” was all he could manage to say. “That’s precisely it,” Fr Francis replied coldly. “I’ll tell Lord and Lady Boskin not to follow through with the paperwork because misbehaving children are evil children, and they shan’t have evil brought into their perfect home. Now give back that clothing or I shall turn you in for theft of property.” Sis Eunice’s hands flew to her mouth in open dismay. Arnie had correctly deduced that this was definitely not a development she had anticipated. Now the Mthr Superior and other church lackeys outside the door had begun to put their hands on Eugene in effort to take back his new boughten clothes.

Clearly, not knowing what else to do, Sis Eunice pressed her advantage, knelt down by Eugene's ear, and said, “You must run, Eugene!! Stay as far away from here as you can! Make certain they can’t ever catch you. I’ll take care of the rest.” His eyes bugged out and still he hesitated before Sis Eunice hissed, “GO! NOW!”

Eugene spun on the heel of his new shoe, managed to just barely pull away from the sea of grabbing hands, and sprinted out into the great beyond. P.S. Yes, I have every intention of continuing this. And hopefully even seeing it to completion, like a real "episode", even though the timelapse will be more like a full hour as opposed to 22 minutes? In fact, I've already written a bit more beyond it. I just have to write other things for the time being.....

@gleamful-lanterns @kingreywrites @autumn-ravenclaw

[complicatedandstained]

Not sure if you're doing the fanfic writer Friday, so no pressure, but I wanted to do my ask back. What inspired your different WIPs/ how did you come up with the ideas?

Aw thank you <3 I am always ready to talk about my WIPs.

Indulge Me 

Akurokusai has been taking up space in the back of my noggin since I saw a piece of modern AU-ish fanart about it like a year ago. I was like the embodiment of the “Is this allowed?” meme. More recently, I’ve wanted to have soriku in my Hot Topic fic since I first started writing it, (I took them out of the tags since I haven’t gotten there yet still and felt like a liar, but you know, they will be eventually), and then I was entertaining the idea of having sorikai instead. But I had to stop and ask myself if sorikai, why not akurokusai? But akurokusai feels incredibly out of character for the Hot Topic fic, so I started thinking about a situation in which akurokusai would work for me. 

I decided that it would have to start with both Roxas and Isa separately dating Axel, because they understand how much the other means to him. They grow to mutually respect each other and gradually become friends and eventually have spent so much time together that they are completely at home to the point where Axel would walk in to find Roxas platonically cuddled up on Isa’s lap on the couch watching TV and not bat an eye. And eventually one day they would just realize that--oh--they were also in love. (And of course Axel would find this all incredibly sexy, because it’s Axel.) Anyway, shaky and your Grass is Greener fics and art (and writing Every Rose) brought the idea back into my head and my brain would not quit with the ‘platonic’ couch cuddling, but I also wanted to try to write smut again, so I started this. But instead I ended up trying to depict this whole triad relationship that I had in my head, which kind of morphed into this fic, although it’s maybe not as drawn out and romantic as in my head, because I’m trying not to start any more epic novel WIPs atm. 

Rules of Engagement

With my full time job now, I’m trying to do more short fics that I can finish (you know, hypothetically) and I wanted to try to do at least one of the Akuroku Week prompts, so I picked ‘wedding,’ because I loved the idea of (SPOILERS) Axel explaining to Roxas what a wedding is and Roxas in essence responding to all the different details with ‘so, we’ve been married for a while then? Because we’ve already done all that.’  

And I had Post-KH3 on the brain because I was oscillating between wanting to write a dark or mild fic about the recompleted Org members moving to Radiant Garden to try and restart their lives (in the dark fic, after being put on trial with some kind of truth serum for their crimes against the universe which causes drama and mistrust and imprisonment and such). Anyway, I decided the lighter version with the Sponsors of Light would fit better for this prompt. The idea for the Sponsors of Light just, I guess, because I think having a supportive sponsor seemed like it would be a really effective healing technique IRL. Axel has a forge because I saw a man make a nail in a forge once in middle school at the local Maple Syrup Festival and never stopped thinking about how bad ass it was. And… Yeah, I think that’s all I’ve got on this one. 

 The Poker Night That Never Was

Inspired by Luxord’s line in Days about losing half the poker league when the Castle Oblivion squad is sent off, and inspired by my love of all things pirates and the countless pirate books I have read in my life, most recently Treasure Island.

Somebodies

Before KH3 came out, I made it my mission to try and catch up on KH after like, years and years, so I played games and watched them on YouTube, *but* there was this empty void of Axel and Saix and the other former Radiant Garden resident Org members’ backstories. And I had read that Nobodies don’t age, which would mean that Axel and Saix were in their upper teens/early twenties when they became Nobodies, so I made up an elaborate backstory in my head about their life and relationship in Radiant Garden and how they get mixed up with the heart experiments and became Nobodies. If I didn’t know something or forgot something, I just made it up for myself. I had been reading a lot of KH fanfiction at that point and decided to try writing one for myself about all the Radiant Garden headcanons brewing in my head.

The Other Day at Hot Topic 

I think I was just scrolling through tumblr thinking about how much I love seeing the Org members dressed like Hot Topic models, and about how perfect their piercings and wild hair colors would fit. I started writing a quick post about the Kingdom Hearts characters working at the mall, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized how well Roxas starting a job at Hot Topic could parallel him starting to work for the Organization, and I loved thinking about how all the other characters would translate over into the modern AU, and I was working at Old Navy at the time so retail was fresh on my mind, and before I knew it I was writing fic scenes instead of a quick post and I had a zillion ideas in my head.  

@snowflake-of-destruction

[redxblueihateloveyou]

Thank you so much for answering my question! It is really kind of you. I have 2 more if it is not a bother: Do you know Haikyuu? I have seen lots of ships on your tumblr and considering what kinds of ships you like, Haikyuu has SO MANY potential for you. :) And the second question is, what do you think about Mikoto and Reisi from K? I only saw Sarumi posts, so I am curious.

Oh heHE, let’s start with k project. Honestly Sarumi is the only ship I care about in this anime, I mean every other couple there for me is very undeveloped for me. Sarumi is like true love shit, I wasn’t expecting them to even go there, and when Misaki said to him “I want you to have a real home you can come back to and that’s me” my jaw was on the floor. I mean, they’ve seen each other at their worst and still loved each other (honestly the whole Fushimi’s father storyline and Misaki holding him through it was just too much for my heart). So they’re the only romantic ship for me in this anime.

Mikoto... wasn’t he in love with that guy who he took into their clan to protect? Who was killed? The one who lalala played the guitar whatever was his name? And that’s why he didn’t want to live after that, only wanted revenge and then finita? No?

Red king and blue king did have a sexual tension in that lighting a cigarette scene, other than that... they just “fought” with each other lots and I don’t even see much relationships or like anything that would make them a good romantic couple. And even if I pretend  that they loved each other... Mikoto asked him to help him killing himself? That’s like assholishness level 200 to me. I never got this idea of asking your loved one to finish your ass... like bitch, maybe it sounds good for you but did your selfish ass think about how your other half is going to live with that? So that’s a huge no for me. 

But seriously I like don’t know what to look for there, I don’t see it. I hope he’s in heavens with that other guy, but also I don’t really care, cause Fushimi was like the only thing why I sat through the whole thing, cause lord that hour of watching that girls watermelons I could’ve spent more productive (like man I was trying not to fall asleep during some useless episodes, I don’t even know why and what for some characters were even there), BUT but it was all worth it, cause there is one character who was written so good and so complex and he’s so well done that I don’t even mind.

Now before I go to Haikyuu... I think my problem is that unlike many I don’t ship every bromance just bc it’s a good bromance. Because sometimes there are some great bromances but they give out like zero romantic vibes. For example, Stiles and Scott: would totally die for each other, hug each other a lot, have no problem with saying I love you, but they’re like best bros, there is nothing romantic there. Like Stiles can ask Danny or Scott if they find him attractive, but he would never ask Derek about this, you know what I mean? They’re like me and my sister.

So for me there is a huge difference between bro things and gay things (like I only partly joked while making that rinharu post). And some couples are clearly crossed that line in some weird moments. Because things like high fiving each other and hugging each other don’t make anyone gay. I don’t know if that makes sense for anybody else... but those who have siblings or bffs will get what I mean. 

Like classical example is Rin Matsuoka. When it come to Sousuke he easily writes him letters and calls him like I feel with my best friend. I can call anytime and be like “bro, I’ve missed you”. Cue the 3x03 weirdest scene when Rin misses Haru and is afraid to call and tell him that. That’s the proof here that they’re clearly something weird there, cause if they were just friends he would be like “hey, bro, missed you” which will never be the case here.

Or can you imagine Rin and Haru seeing each other and being like “yo man” and fist bumping and hitting each other? I’ll bet 1000$ that you can’t. Rin can hit Sousuke in the shins, and ruffle Nagisa’s hair, but Haru would never get this from him. And spoiler: it’s not cause he hates him xD

Also I think the easiest example is Kuroko. (and please, don’t think I’m judging ppl for shipping stuff, I mean to each their own, it’s just my opinion). It’s the anime where people ship everyone with everyone just because of hey... bromances, while in my opinion most of them have seriously nothing gay about them and most of them just do normal bro things. Like how can Kuroko and Kagami be seen as smth romantic I still don’t get. Or like Aomine and Kagami thing??? They are like freaking twins. Same with Kise and Kasamatsu, Midorima and Akashi ships and many others.

Like we see Kuroko and how he behaves with everyone. Firstly he was shadow for everybody: Kise, Aomine, Kagami and he was good with every one of them. Kuroko is a people’s person, he is caring, he thinks about others a lot, he cares about everyone including Haizaki who is an ass tbh, so it’s also nothing special (I mean that way you can ship him even with Kyoshi xD). Aomine is special for Kuroko bc he understands him the most on the field, Kise is his main rival, Kagami is his least problematic light, Murasakibara is his favorite as a person... etc, this way you can ship Kuroko with anyone. 

But... someone gets what none of them get. Like Kuroko never checked anybody out or said compliments... but he did think Akashi looked yummy in his kimono at the festival. Kuroko never told anybody a zillion words “it’s all because of you” speech... except for one person. None of them made his heart crack and cry rivers when they left him... except one. And I just loved how we get this with everyone:

And then suddenly this happens:

Lol okay, blue-shems. He gives him his food and asks questions about “who’s his type and his special one”, like... you know he doesn’t do that with anyone else. And Akashi is not his bestie. So yeah, explain this as “bromance”.

Same with Akashi. He forms the new team. He actually misses Kuroko so much that he goes and finds a copy of him. The ONLY GOM member he can’t go without and it’s proved after Kuroko asked him on the interview “who is the person you scared to lose the most” and Akashi answers “you.. it’s you, Kuroko”. Now... hold the horses. We all know that Midorima is his bestie, there’s no contest there, which brings us to the fact that he places Kuroko higher than his best friend which makes Kuroko his... what exactly? 

It’s just some things can’t be BRO things.

Like when you cover your eyes and going “dude, don’t show your package in public, zip it, no one wants to see that”, that’s what I’m like when I accidentally see my sister’s boob. That’s how Makoto behaves when he sees naked Nagisa and Haru who’s undressing.

Opposite to Rin oggling Haru half naked and Haru shaking before touching Rin. That’s clearly not how you feel about your “just friend”. Everyone who has bffs must confirm that they don’t get nervous about touching them or them touching you cause you’re comfortable with that. Does this make any sense? I hope, it does. I’m not very good at explaining.

Now about Haikyuu. Haha I’ve been avoiding this so much, cause I didn’t want ppl to throw stones at me. I’ve tried.. I really tried to watch it twice. Once I got to ep8, 2nd time I asked my sister to watch with me (cause it’s funnier that way, that’s how we got through durarara without dying xD) and I still gave up after ep14.

It’s not only just that I was bored and I thought it’s gonna get exciting but it didn’t (bc I’m more of an interesting characters > an interesting plot person), it’s just.. it was episode 14 and I didn’t even find any character who would interest me cause they were so cliche. Especially Hinata. He’s like that super typical main from what I called the “never give up it’s such a wonderful life” bunch that I really deeply respect, but kinda so very tired of them lol. But he’s also from the loud bunch.. and I think I still hear Asta’s voice sometimes, even though I’ve dropped Black Clover after ep10 like a year ago xD

Now I can’t make judgements about the whole thing cause I didn’t watch it, but from what I saw (I mean “shipping scenes” from tumblr) and asked from ppl who has seen the whole thing (one huge fan and another one - not a huge fan, my sister), I got the idea that this anime is more bromancy that romancy. And there are no couples there like “without you I have nothing to aim for and I want a future with you” or “you made my life a dream and you’re the light of my life and I’m scared to lose you the most” like there are in free or knb. 

Now my sister has finished it 4 months later and said that it was just okay. And I was like “okay, but what about ships?” because I’m willing to close my eyes on the plot of the ships are good. And she went “well... two mains, I guess” and she was so apathetic about it that I was like “If she who ships much more than me is like that then I won’t see anything there” xD

But... like if you have anything to say to convince me or interest me in it, I’m willing to listen. If you have smth that would make wanna try for the 3rd time, I’ll even record how did it go xD.

[wrestlingisfake]

G1 Climax final preview

Man, New Japan likes making me wait super-late before they post the card for this show!!

Kota Ibushi vs. SANADA - This is the final match in the G1 Climax tournament.  Ibushi won A Block on October 16, and Sanada won B Block on October 17.  There is no time limit; there must be a winner.  Whoever wins this match will get a trophy, a neat flag, and a briefcase containing a contract for a title match in the main event of Wrestle Kingdom 15 in the Tokyo Dome.

This is the third year in a row that Ibushi has advanced to the final; he lost in 2018, he won in 2019, and he’s looking for a back-to-back win here.  He’s declared his intention to be capital-g God, and I feel like that’s not the kind of thing you say in a wrestling promo if you’re going to come up short.  In contrast, Sanada is the shy, quiet one in Los Ingobernables de Japon, and he’s been humbly building momentum over the past year to break through from the midcard.  A month ago I was unsure who could win this thing, but when I saw people suggesting Sanada I was like “wait, really?”  But now he’s made it.

The psychology of this match has been defined by the bizarre war Ibushi fought with Taichi on 10/17.  Lots of New Japan matches feature spots where two guys dare each other to stand in the middle of the ring taking elbows to the neck for a couple of minutes.  But Taichi and Ibushi exchanged kicks, and almost nothing but kicks, for seventeen minutes.  I’m not some shootfighting expert who can tell you if these kicks were stiff or if they were super good at selling.  All I know is that, at least in kayfabe, Ibushi’s right thigh is thrashed from doing kicks, and his left thigh is thrashed from taking kicks.  Basically, Sanada's not going into this match and working over the arm, unless he’s stupid or something.

I have no idea how they’re going to lay out a match where one guy can barely walk.  Then again, Ibushi is known for a) insisting that some scary landing didn’t actually hurt at all and b) hulking up during matches and playing like nothing hurts him.  So he might come to the ring limping or acting like everything is A-OK.  However, I am very confident Ibushi can get in some kind of offense that levels the playing field.  Just one crazy spot that absolutely wrecks a body part on Sanada would make it feel plausible that the match could go either way.  Or maybe Kota will just challenge Sanada to another kicking contest, because he’s nuts.

I could see either of these two going on to challenge Naito for the title at the Tokyo Dome, but given the choice I think Sanada is a more interesting challenger.  That doesn’t mean he has to win, but I think the stars are lining up for him.  But he’s in for the fight of his life against one weird-ass son of a bitch.

Tetsuya Naito & BUSHI vs. EVIL & Yujiro Takahashi - Evil failed to make it to the G1 finals, but at least he won his block match with Naito, which puts him in line for a title shot.  Naito lost a total of three matches during the tournament, setting up three potential challengers, but I get the feeling Evil is first in line.

In the back half of the tour, Evil and Jay White started making all these weird comments towards one another in their backstage post-match comments.  That’s pretty unusual, since they weren’t scheduled to face one another, and now we know they weren’t even booked to meet in the final.  It feels like the destination is a Bullet Club vs. Bullet Club feud, but somebody has to make the first move on that.  I don’t know why it’d happen here, but it’s got to start somewhere.

Assuming Evil is getting the next title shot, he should win here, probably by pinning Bushi.  Then again, I suppose if Naito pins Evil, maybe that would avenge the earlier loss without the need for a title match, and he could move on KENTA or something.  We’ll see what happens.

Kazuchika Okada & SHO vs. Will Ospreay & Great-O-Khan - So the big angle on the October 16 show was that Ospreay turned heel on Okada and aligned with O-Khan.  Obviously Okada is looking for some payback.

O-Khan was once Tomoyuki Oka of the Young Lions until 2018, whereupon he went on excursion in the UK, where he became “The Great O-Kharn.”  I’m not sure they’ve settled on the official English spelling of this gimmick, but the website says “Great-O-Khan” right now.  I haven’t seen much of his current character, but I expect we’ll get showcase when he tags in. 

It would be fairly shocking if Ospreay defected to one of the heel factions (Bullet Club or Suzuki-gun) but the possibility that he’s just going to build a new one from the ground up raises a lot more possibilities.  Ospreay would almost certainly have to recruit turncoats from one or more existing factions.  He might very well start with Sho, during this match.  There are a lot of ways this could go, and this match is our first chance to start to find out more.

Assuming they don’t do some big angle or clusterfuck run-in at the end, I’m thinking O-Khan gets to show off some cool finisher and pin Sho.  Or, if New Japan really wants to make a statement, he’ll just pin Okada.

Hiroshi Tanahashi & Jeff Cobb & Juice Robinson & Master Wato vs. Jay White & KENTA & Taiji Ishimori & Gedo - White’s team represents Bullet Club, whereas Tana’s squad are all from Hontai, the babyfaces who are too purehearted to join a real faction.  All of these guys were on the rest of the tour except Wato and IWGP junior heavyweight champion Ishimori.  Could Wato pin Ishimori and turn around his rather disappointing first few months back from excursion?  I won’t hold my breath.

Honestly the most interesting thing about this match is the possibility that some important angle could happen near the finish, or afterwards.  Like, what if the tension between Jay White and Evil causes the Bullet Club team to come to blows?  Or what if they air a video from Jon Moxley vowing to come to Japan and give Kenta his shot at the US title?  I probably shouldn’t get my hopes up for stuff like that, but it could happen.

Regardless, I’m thinking White and Gedo are having some problems, and that will cost them the win here.

Minoru Suzuki & Yoshinobu Kanemaru vs. Shingo Takagi & Hiromu Takahashi - Suzuki is the NEVER champion and Takagi just pinned him the other night, so they’re on a collision course.  I don’t expect much of anything to get settled in this one, so look for Kanemaru to do the job to one of the LIJ guys.

Zack Sabre Jr. & Taichi & El Desperado & DOUKI vs. Toru Yano & Tomohiro Ishii & Hirooki Goto & YOSHI-HASHI - Sabre and Taichi are the IWGP heavyweight tag team champions.  Despy is one of the junior tag champions.  Douki ain’t got shit.  Yano is the provisional KOPW champion and his partners are the NEVER trios champions.  So there’s a lot of hardware in this one, even before you get into all the pipes, microphone stands, staffs, and spray bottles these guys lug to the ring.  The finish of this match could be used to set up a title match for the next tour, but it might just as easily be a lot of nothing.

Okay, I gotta talk about Taichi.  Like, that kicking contest with Ibushi was weird and didn’t make a ton of sense, but it reminded me of that deal where the ECW fans didn’t accept Tommy Dreamer until he took a zillion cane shots from the Sandman.  It’s like, on some level Taichi is trying to prove he’s done with the cheap heat stuff from a year or two ago, and even if he’s still a heel he’s a legit heel now.  Like, he gained Ibushi’s respect and stuff.  I dig that kinda stuff.  Anyway, I sure hope Taichi gets to just sit in the corner for most of this match.  But either way, his team’s at a prety big disadvantage (aside from just having Douki there).

[spongeaddict]

Hi there! I saw you reblog the post saying "Reblog if you write fic and people can inbox you random-ass questions about your stories," and I have been wondering something about "Two For the Show!" First of all, I wanted to tell you that your writing is seriously amazing, and I think you are so talented. My question is this - how did you think of the story idea for this one? I am especially curious about the decision to incorporate the play that you chose. Thanks in advance for answering! :)

First of all, thanks for your compliments! I’m just glad that people enjoy my writing :)

As for your questions...buckle up, I have to start about 10 years ago, so this’ll be a little long.

In the summer of 2010 (and I realize this dates me), I had just graduated from high school and was about to begin my freshman year in college. This was also when  when “Scooby Doo: Mystery Incorporated” first started airing in the US.  I was thrilled about it, and loved the series from the start, especially the secret romance between Shaggy and Velma obviously. I’d written one longfic that was a crossover between Scooby Doo and the horror film “The Ring” which had gotten relatively good reviews, but after seeing the first episode of SDMI, I wanted to write an origin series, featuring high-school versions of the gang. I used the first episode of SDMI as a starting point for how I wanted the gang characterized in my own series, and I went from there. I knew from the start what the titles of the stories would be, and had vague ideas about the plots. For example, “One For The Money,” the first in the series, was always about a counterfeit operation (hence the title) and “Two For The Show” was always about a haunted theater.

With “Two For The Show,” I knew I needed a musical with few parts, simply because I didn’t want to have to come up with a zillion original characters to fill the other parts. In late 2009 I had seen a live production of “Next To Normal” and fallen in love with it, so it seemed to be the perfect musical -- small cast, contemporary music, and with a bit of a spooky atmosphere. There’s one part in particular that’s coming up in chapter 14 that I’ve had a very clear image of in my head for the past nine or ten years based on a song/scene from the musical (but I don’t want to give anything away!) 

I will say that even though most of the ideas for this story (and indeed the series as a whole) were conceived in 2010/2011, there have been some slight changes over the years. For example, I wanted to write “Two For The Show” as a “better secret-relationship drama” for Shaggy and Velma than how it was handled in the TV show because, to be frank, I think SDMI did them dirty. But it wasn’t until later that I realized I also wanted to explore Fred and Daphne’s relationship dynamic as well. I thought that making them be in a musical -- acting out different characters who have completely different problems than the ones that they, the gang, are facing themselves -- seemed to be a good way to do that. Also, who doesn’t love a theater ghost?

Feel free to ask fic-related questions any time! I love talking Scooby Doo with like-minded folx! :)

[whimsically-ominously-auspice]

This is the last human mimic alien we have to fight.

He's realized he's lost because you people aren't running wild having orgies and you're listening to the DNA4U

And further more You all don't want to share.

When i posted the video of Miss Shawntae telling snoop it was time to snoop her body up... And then Snoop went all seductive to the camera...

122895x1000= men that said "Nigga ima beat your ass you know my wo/man gonna see that. You ain't need to be showing yourself!".

76584284×1000= said "ew i hope i don't have my any asking me to do anything tonight after what i just seen. My imagination gonna kill myself! And i know that's just wrong wrong wrong!"

Now multiply the digits together before the multiplication sign and that is approximately minus 1000 That supported Snoops message.

I did all 3. I had to advert my eyes even. Although he couldn't even see me.

Now Snoop and i know each other over 8000zillion years. So i can easily put myself in his shoes.

So he would walk in and I be having sex and he just sit down and start having a conversation. Like we having BBQ ribs and not sexual intercourse.

His wife tho .... He would make sure "the white boy was covered" and tease her don't look. She look at the carpet... Eventually it kept going on so i took a picture off the wall and put it on the floor where she always sat.

She said "why you do that?"

"I realize the kids keep jumping on the bed and knock it off. Snoop stare at you If you move your face. And unless you're on LSD it's no fun staring at the carpet. So i gave it to you where it seems you always be looking although i had to take a pretty healthy guess. I just felt you was having the most miserable time of all and as my friend it was my honor to trip out and give you a gift"

She used the reflection to put on her makeup and slept in bed later.,Snoop quit being so paranoid. Cause she would face the wall and lean against him.

Point is... Snoop be all like he was watching sports to make sure we got the score.

I mean. Man. Earth. We tried everything we could to stop these aliens from wanting to habe orgies. Even,took,away,their dicks!!!

We did everything. Planet.

Y'all locked up with your soulmates made little difference on this kick of his.

I been doing it. I been riding like I been going around the world 500 times. I love sex.

82% of y'all all around the Earth been having sex.

4% have watched porno

18% have had 1 wild orgies of those 18% -- 32% had s second one. Of those 0.00004981% have gone onto a third.

Of those having 2 or more orgies 92% were aliens

Leaving 8% Of 18% of the entire world interested enough in watching or having sex with other people than their soulmate.

Who saved the world?

100% of humans.

You all get $5 and that includes children.

He's done all he could and he's failed. 100%

I think Edgar might be human... Looking at his alien structure in the film.

But he treated me like an alien. Im still a POW.

Alex had to sell a bed because he acted non human. And Alex worked hard on it to make it perfect for me.

I would been fine gloating from it. Fighting and being sassy to aliens.

But then someone claiming to care about me,most of all abandoned his son and law and daughter. And i hear stories of him being evil.

Some time ago they asked me "do you want a dad or mom?"

"No"

"We need to know because the future of the,Earth,depends on it. And the future of you. Now do you want a dad or,not?!"

"The question is will i remain needing a dad or father figure in the future. No i am fine. I have male role models to keep the species alive. Males. (Species not gender) I also have my mom in Mrs Harriet Tubmam. And if that fails then at that time i should be able to get the rest of me. But she's fine. I'm fine. I just got to remain stable. But adding a father or another mother i don't know just yet can remain disasterous."

Luckily Alex didn't burn the bed down. But it was,bugged and bombed by "Edgar", to me 'its just another one of those things we have to clean"

Do i care? Nothing. He doesn't affect me. I worry about Alex having to,deal with it. But,hes being,and,staying clean,and,then when he's,scared he stays by other cold turkey or non users. He was,around Crystal meth yesterday and he tasted 1/4 of a gram. Like when you would put your finger in the sugar jar. Then lick it. The other guy smoked 4.9876 ounces and blew it all in their faces including the babies. Thus Alex got 7.698 grams ingested via second hand smoke.

I didn't notice but we got in a fight with each other. Just like we always do.

Alex and i power punched him and his eye socket -- ocular bone -- was crushed like glass in 17 cracks.

His jaw I punched more alone but with Alex and total both sides he lost 9 teeth. And had to be wired shut after 72 stiches because i split his upper palate in two. I cracked his lower palate in 8072 places. So if you found a skull it would rest on powder of his lower jaw and then you'll find the upper. After decaying..

Then Alex on the top of his head had 49 stitches to repair his soft tissue from his frontal lobe when he crashed to the floor after the super punch to eye hit the coffee table.

He did get one "good" punch in -- his skull hit Alex right in the right eye.

It fucking hurt but it hurts in a good way. Its weird it's like "reward!" Pain. No suffering. Fucking got him good tho. We feel it every now and again. May be it is when he realises we will kill him for good. He keeps remembering that sudden silence of death.

He's currently on life support. "Medically induced coma" is our non panic code words. But it's basically life support but usually not full life support. It isn't 100% life support medical machines. Its 75% or less.

So technically it's life support and coma mixed. So we csll it medically induced coma. This way you understand if your family is the one on the machines -- it's only 25% body life.... However there's a 75% of recovery via healing machines.

The CIA. Willl decide when to pull the plug. Usually medically induced coma is someone evil or someone bad with the ability to be good. Usually aliens go straight to coma status.

If an alien will die it's 1st life support then coma. Your friend or family will die.

They said medically induced coma. But at this time. His brain is incapable of human thought so I am putting him on life support.

This makes it the family's wishes.

Most of the time "next of kin" is spouse then parents/siblings. Then children last.

Which is wrong. It should be the future. Thus Erica and Steven will ask the babies. And together they will decide.

Last night as a CIA operative while he was in a medically induced coma i was told by at least 1 child and 2 adults to pull. I reviewed. While they spoke from shock and relief their true feelings.

Knowing that the children escaped life with Eric once. I don't feel the right to allow Eric to live. I know the consequences of his actions caused two children to leave my planet in fear and terror and disgust because of Eric.

Erica was my 3rd pregnancy to abort and hold souls.

I hate Eric. That's why i punched him in the fucking face. I was happily surprised that Alex did it. Too in person.

Since the infants are involved and already resurrected. And had a nightmare of a time in less than 36 hours on Eaerth.

I allow them to be there to pull the plug, they can actually yank and pull the plug themselves.

So that is what i want and what the children need.

It will show Eric he doesn't belong here and has no,reason to,be at 25%

It makes life easier for all of us.

Eric was an outdoor kid. Like John and Jason and Greg. Etc. He never went into my school.

They didn't have to. And actually weren't ever enrolled. They liked the man work to learn to survive on their own.

While i taught the children the indoor stuff. The expansion of the mind.

I taught them the economy so the men working to increase their own economical structure could be helped to be taken in under their wings.

I left no one behind.

But he refused confirming.

1. Alcoholic system to drop other drugs. -- he uses crystal meth. Without cut backs. Without moderation

$5 if yoh remember and realized i said make smoothies without alcohol to share with your kids.

2. He blew it in their faces on purpose them injesting over 2.4 grams each.

Erica and Alex would cover their faces with thick blankets when the smoke came towards them.

It was quite a hostage situation. Knowing he could take the newborns and kill them in front of them.

Its happened to me 985 Point 2 times. I'm 35 years old.

875.8 times it's been with a knife.

Take the numbers and multiply by 10 million. For the last some kinda lots of 8 thousand zillion years.

It even happened to Alex. He he has the scars. From,this and last life., it,has happened.

So for me they're terrifying. Unless I'm there... I have saved 900 billion times 30 thousand. I those situations.

But i always remember the ones i lost.

So don't worry when I'm suicidal. Just leave me alone. Don't talk to me. I need silence.

So dead babies y'all.

Dead aliens.

It will be done

I seen that actually quite beautiful meme of April 2020 the clouds and UFO.

I don't get mad or violent because I'm stepped back to watch y'all cope.

But I say to y'all "fuck no that's not happening" I say to that UFO "Fucking try it you will all die" i just scroll on because I get so angry. I get so mad. Its a beautiful photo but i refused to repost it because it isn't something i support.

Most reposts of memes are supported unless i type something on the bottom. Saying it's not.

So my dad. I didn't care until i saw The Rock, "her dad is alive" all happy and in support.

Then i was bothered. Then I cared. Then i felt something about it. But until then i felt nothing.

I didn't feel shame..i felt that were all made of glass.

Because I was happy to have a dad.. One that seemed good. I was actually happy.

And it was kept personal to me... But then I saw the Rock felt it. Then I began to feel..

Broken. But Alex kept it together and started getting rid of the bed. Taking it down. Removing bombs. And fixing all that ass hole did "my dad"

I know the Rock.. He can handle. His dad just died. And we did a lot for him.

So for him to be elated. I get through the day thinking no one really cares what i feel and they don't pay kuch attention..but the Rock in that moment in time.

He was happy. And i knew then i had to Destroy a light of happiness inside him and he looked away from the camera to say "we are all happy. The while world"

DNA4U list one person as my father. He's my uncle..

Edgar claimed it was his 18th cousin.

You know, it doesn't matter.

Donate. Mr Lee Tubman. And more. They're my dads. They kept me safe. Taught me to be wiser and more caring about myself. Donte was 2 years younger than me. But he was a father figure. Guy was the fun dad. Fred Flintstone i called one friend's dad was the fishing buddy. We were not close but he was a silent father figure.

I stole all my friends dads. Borrowed them. Their moms, too.

I have 1800 moms that I call mom.

I know who my moms and dads are.

Just like Erica called me mom the other day and Brittany will too. And Alex my cousin's son. Candy. Brandy. Declan.

So i know i have a family that understands it doesn't matter how I got here. It matters who treated me well. Matthew McCognohey. Kid rocks. They're like my dad's and my kids. Uncles and Cousins.

Blood doesn't matter. Shit half the time Snoop is my God or dad or bother or husband or little kid i have to save. He's my friend.

Snoop is too much of everything. He is my co-nigger. My partner in many crimes against humanity (practical jokes)

I call him my Friend. But my family wouldn't be complete without him and Shawntae.

Harriet. I call her momma all the time. It feels natural. Sometimes i call her old lady.

So while i was joyful for a moment thinking I found someone that actually cared to find out he didn't.

I myself wasn't affected until i knew others would be

Its just a lesson in life. Don't trust people.

I told Alex abandon ship, fuck that place. Ain't no one can go in there!!

He understood and agreed then took the role "no,one is driving me and her from our home." He decided to defend the homestead. That is the role a man takes

Im all you gotta sweep the whole place,then,rest and do,it again,2 more times at least.,Then,again when,I,get there. If i get there.

But i feel good to know my lover isn't gonna let anyone drive him down. Just turn around. Learn a lesson. Clean the mess.

Why do i need a father when i have a man?

Clearly i am an independent woman and always have been.

But i need a family. Otherwise I have no point to live.

And that is why i am suicidal.

I don't see s point to live. Not when Alex and i fight and i don't want him to talk to me cause some alien got in our way once again.

He was double attacked by aliens.

So if their desire is for me to die... Then they should keep,doing it.

If,not they need to stay out of my way so i can,get my family,together again.,in,real life.

My family that I know is my family. Not aliens. Not fans. Not someone that needs to apologize to me or needs an explanation.

People that can think on their own and not be reminded they need to have love in their spirit.

Now Snoop sometimes plays the role of my brother. And we are competitive. It just makes us proud of each other and ourselves for surviving a challenge. I do it to him too but I play old hard skill. He plays old new remember when. I do ancient V-Ball and he does pop and country experience.

So his spirit is of an ego -- which salutes the fact we will grow.

Often we do the spirit of mischievous. To remind danger still exists but we will have fun and love in the end.

Friend. Someone that is gonna fry you but the end od what matters.

Sometimes we relax and chill. But them old cogwheels of the mind never quit rolling. Advance. Advance. Lets keep it going don't stop.

He's like me. Suicidal.

But he used to release his inner poison. Now he makes it not exist by doing something else ....

But me? Nothing helps but the mimic of death itself. Silence.

People are what causes it. Alien people.

So you humans. Keep on being you.

Its you that is gonna save the world

I gave you guidelines to help us out this mess.

Because I can't even see y'all because the aliens surrounding me trying to get my last breath.

Show me you. Save us. You're doing good

I got $5 on y'all that we make it.

[ckret2]

Liberty Island’s Decisive Battle: Godzilla vs. Trypticon!

Fandom: Transformers Prime, Godzilla, Rescue Bots Characters: Godzilla, Trypticon; also featuring, in order of descending importance, Ratchet, Starscream, Fowler, Miko, Blades, Dani, Heatwave, Soundwave, Knock Out, Raf, and Jack. Words: 5400 Summary: The Nemesis has been revived by dark energon, and reactivates its cloaking field just before Ratchet can send human infiltrators on board to retrieve the Iacon database and see where it’s headed. After a scouting mission, they discover that the Nemesis has transformed itself back into Trypticon, and is heading toward New York City. Fortunately, Agent Fowler’s got an asset in Japan that might just be able to take it on... Notes: What’s up I’ve seen 3.1 Godzilla movies and read way too many wiki pages today. This is unproofed because I wanted to 1) post this immediately, and 2) surprise my usual beta with it. Enjoy the typos.

UPDATE AUGUST 17 2019: We are now proofread. Huzzah.

###

The good news was the Nemesis's cloaking field was down.

The bad news was the Nemesis was alive, speaking, decoding the Iacon database at a ludicrous pace, stasis locking any Cybertronian that came in range of it, and blazing across the Atlantic toward what seemed to be the northeast coast of the United States.

So, basically everything else was bad news.

Fowler said, "But it status locked—"

"Stasis locked," Ratchet snapped.

"—Stasis locked the Decepticons too, right? I think that's another bit of good news."

"Hardly," Ratchet grumbled, not looking down as he locked onto the Decepticon ship's ground bridge coordinates. "As it is right now, the Nemesis is more dangerous than the Decepticons are. I'd rather have them."

"Sure, but, less dangerous than the Nemesis and the Decepticons working together would be, right?"

Ratchet gave Fowler an exasperated look. He shrugged. "I'm just saying. It could be worse."

Ratchet shook his head and turned back to his console. Then swore under his breath. "It just got worse."

The kids, waiting for the bridge to open for them, looked up at Ratchet. "Why, what happened?" Jack asked.

Ratchet gestured angrily at the screen. "The Nemesis figured out how to reactivate its cloaking," he said. "As if we needed more bad news."

Miko groaned, throwing her hands up. "Great!"

"Can you calculate where it's going to be based on its path?" Raf asked, walking closer to Ratchet. "We know where it was a moment ago. We could figure out its speed and direction based on those records and open a bridge—"

"If the ship figured out it needed to start cloaking, it probably also figured out we might have been tracking it and altered its trajectory. If I tried to ground bridge you now, you would plummet from mid-air into the ocean."

The solemn declaration was met with silence.

Miko asked, "What if you bridged us through with like, jetpacks or something?"

Ratchet scoffed. "Absurd. We don't have..." And then he fell silent, thoughtful. He moved to the comm console and started typing.

"Are we getting jetpacks?!" Miko asked.

"No. Hush."

Raf climbed the mezzanine stairs so he wouldn't have to keep looking up at Ratchet. "Who are you calling?"

"The only flying Cybertronian left on Earth."

Jack grimaced. "Starscream?"

"Of course not Starscream. Anyway, he doesn't have his t-cog, he's not—" The line connected, and Ratchet focused on the comm. "Heatwave. We have an emergency. Can you put Blades on?"

###

"I really, really, really don't like this," Blades squeaked. "There is so. Much. Water."

"Relax," Dani said. "We've done flights over the ocean hundreds of times."

"But not like this! Over the deepest, darkest part of the ocean, hundreds of miles from shore in every direction..."

Half standing with her forehead pressed to Blades's window so she could see the ocean below, Miko continued for him, "One seagull stuck in your rotor away from a watery grave."

Blades whined. Dani shot Miko an exasperated look. "I'm beginning to understand why Ratchet warned me not to let you come along." Miko turned to give her a mischievous grin. "Try not to make my partner faint, okay? Then we're all in trouble."

"Focus," Heatwave said over the comm. "You're scouting for a rogue Decepticon warship, remember."

Somehow managing to sound even more terrified, Blades said, "Oh. Right."

"Nothing visible so far," Dani said. "We're following along the Nemesis's last known flight path. We'll let you know if we spot anything."

"Miko, could you stop drumming your fingers on me?" Blades asked. "It's making me more nervous."

She sighed, flopped back in her seat, and crossed her arms and legs. "There's nothing out there," she grumbled. "I thought we'd have found it by now."

"We've only been at this a few minutes," Dani assured here. "And this thing is huge, right? As long as we keep headed along its last known trajectory, we're bound to find—" She fell silent, leaning forward and squinting. "Blades, are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

"I think I am. I wish I wasn't."

"What?" Miko leaped back to her feet, leaning forward again.

On the horizon, a black speck appeared, as if rising out of the water. "That can't be it," Dani muttered. "The Nemesis is a ship—like, a space ship, right? Shouldn't it be flying?"

"Maybe it crashed again?" Miko suggested. "It was grounded earlier today. Before it started paralyzing 'bots and talking to us."

"It doesn't look like a ship, though," Blades said.

They fell silent as they slowly drew up on the black form protruding from the water. Quietly, as though afraid it might hear, Dani said, "We're seeing something, Heatwave. But I don't think it's the Nemesis."

"What is it?" Heatwave asked.

"Well, it's— it looks like..."

Blades cut in, "It looks like Trex, but way bigger and eviler."

"Well—yeah. That."

Heatwave was silent for a moment. "... Blades, have you ever heard of Trypticon?"

Blades squeaked.

"I'll take that as a yes."

"What's Trypticon?" Miko whispered. Dani shrugged.

"But I thought Trypticon died, like, a zillion years ago!" Blades said.

"It did," Heatwave said.

"Then how..."

"I don't know."

Miko sucked in a breath. "Hold on. If this Trypticon dude is from your planet, then it can turn into something else, right? Like... a ship? A Decepticon ship?"

"Yep," Heatwave said. "Just like a ship. But it's been dead. It shouldn't be able to transform."

Miko said quickly, "The Decepticons have been throwing around dark energon like cheap rock candy."

"'Dark energon'?" Dani echoed.

"It raises the dead. If they used it to try to fix their ship when it crashed—"

"Hold on," Heatwave said, "exactly how much dark energon do the Decepticons have?"

Blades shouted, "You mean that Trypticon is a zombie?!"

"So, hold on, back up," Dani said, eyes fixed on the machine growing ever larger before them. "You're telling me that the Decepticon warship we've been looking for is also a giant zombie dinosaur?"

Unable to contain her mounting excitement, Miko pumped her fists in the air with a shrill cheer. "This is awesome! This is the coolest thing ever!"

"I think it sees us!" Blades shouted. Slowly, laboriously, the monster was turning its head, glancing back over its shoulder. Blades stopped in mid-air so quickly that Miko stumbled and landed on the floor, and then he started flying backwards. "Bridge us back, bridge us back, bridge us back—"

Two pulsing purple plasma beams shot out of its optics toward Blades. They only barely backed through a ground bridge in time to avoid them, and crashed, rotors still spinning, in the Autobot base.

###

Ratchet paced, mouth set in a grim line. "At the height of his strength, Trypticon was almost two miles high. We don't have anything that could compare to..."

"I can't say whether or not he's really this Trypticon, but, rough estimate? I would put the guy we saw at only five hundred feet or so," Dani said.

Huddled up under a massive blue tarp, staring into the distance, Blades mumbled, "Five hundred scary, scary feet."

"The Decepticons probably hollowed out most of his internals back when they reformatted his corpse into their flagship," Heatwave said. "If he transformed back to his original height, his armor would be paper thin and he'd be mostly hollow. Maybe he had to reformat his robot mode to compact himself."

"What if it's heading toward Griffin Rock," Blades mumbled, mostly to himself. "It's gonna squash the island."

"It's not going to squash the island," Heatwave said firmly, although it wasn't clear whether Blades heard him through his terror. "We'll just—figure something out."

"Will we really?" Ratchet snapped. "Something that can stop a threat that big? Without Optimus?"

"Without Optimus. My team's been managing for years with only occasional contact with Optimus and the rest of your team—"

"Managing to rescue cats from trees, Heatwave. Handling even the average Decepticon threat, much less this, is far outside your—"

"Everyone be quiet a moment!" Fowler shouted. Ratchet and Heatwave turned to look at him. He waved his phone, "I've gotta make a call. I might just have something that can take on this thing."

The room stared at him. "You've got to be joking," Ratchet said. "The United States government has something that can take on a five-hundred-foot monster?"

"First, technically, the Japanese government's got it," Fowler said, "and second, it's more like three hundred something, but it's very good at punching above its weight class. Now pipe down, I've gotta be able to hear." He punched in a number, held his phone up, put a finger over his over ear, and turned around. There were a few seconds of silence; and then he said, "Hey, Pete! It's Bill. Listen, I— Hold on, I'd love to catch up, but we've got a developing situation in the Atlantic, and we need a heavy hitter. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. The heaviest. Listen, do you or your aunt still have that little box, or—? ... Ah." He sounded disappointed. "Do you think she might know—? Okay, give me her number, I'll see what she knows. Thanks. Hey, call me in a few days, we should get caught up."

He hung up, punched in another number, and held the phone back up to his head. Turning back to the Autobots, who were looking at him quizzically, he explained, "Me and Pete were Rangers together. His aunt got my foot in the door with Unit: E, she was working with them because of— Oh, hi, Dr. Darian. Bill Fowler. Yeah, years, I know. Listen—I've got a budding national emergency out in the Atlantic, I was wo— oh, I wish I could tell you more, but it's five hundred feet of classified information. Do you still have that little box you—? Yeah, it's going on right now. Thing could make landfall on the east coast in under five hours. ... Ah. Do you know who does? ... Sure, call him. Just put me on hold, I'll wait." Fowler covered the mouthpiece. "This box could take a while to get—if we can get it. Do we have anything that can slow Trypticon down? I'm not talking about fighting it—just distracting it. Something that can annoy it for a while."

"This is ridiculous," Ratchet said. "What can any humans come up with that can take on Trypticon? What's this 'box'? What's it for?"

Fowler opened his mouth, froze, and stared at Ratchet a moment. Then he said, "That's classified."

Ratchet threw up his hands with a disgusted noise.

"Look," Heatwave said. "In my experience, even if humans can't match us with the sheer strength of their firepower, they're more than our equal in inventiveness and ingenuity. I trust Agent Fowler if he says he's got something that can take on a five hundred foot walking warship. So if there's any way we can buy him some time, I'm all for it. What've we got?"

Ratchet glanced between Heatwave and Fowler; and then grimaced. "Unfortunately, I've got just the thing." He headed over to the comm station. "This is Ratchet to... Starscream. I wanna make a bargain. I can get you a t-cog—if you can show off your aerial acrobatics to a runaway warship."

###

"Primus below, look at him," Starscream said, circling in the sky above Trypticon. "He's mangled himself in order to transform. You can see several shattered decks sticking out of his back."

Over the comm, Dani said, "When we saw them, I sort of thought those were—you know—spines."

Haughtily, Starscream said, "Well, you would think that, you're only human. But no. They're clearly broken. If he transforms back—and I don't know if he can, at this point—he'll have a gut full of splintered structures."

"That's good news, right?" Raf asked. "It means he's stuck in one mode. He can't just fly off."

"I can certainly confirm that being confined to bipedal mode greatly restricts one's mobility." Starscream did an aileron roll, just for the sheer relief that he could, and dove down. "All right. I'm going in—to heroically risk my life for the sake of the people of your miserable little planet. And as we agreed, doctor—"

"Yes, yes," Ratchet snapped. "The Autobots will owe you a favor for this."

"Although we shouldn't have to," Heatwave grumbled. "As long as this thing is rampaging, your entire army is in stasis lock. You're helping yourself as much as you are us—that should be favor enough."

"Perhaps," Starscream said lightly. "But the Decepticons and I aren't exactly on speaking terms lately. So I do appreciate the extra incentive to do this."

"Oh, I'm sure that you do."

Faintly in the background of the comm, Starscream could hear Miko ask, "Hey Heatwave, did you know that when you get sarcastic, you and Starscream sound exactly alike?"

"Excuse me—"

"All right!" Starscream shouted venomously, and Trypticon laboriously lifted his head to look at him. "Listen up, you overgrown undead Dinobot. I don't care what you, Megatron, or anyone else thinks—you were my ship to command and you remain my ship still. And as your commander, I demand that you halt at once! If you want to go another step forward, you'll have to get through me."

Watching Starscream, Trypticon actually slowed to a stop.

"Huh. I didn't think that would actually—"

And Trypticon's optics started glowing brighter.

"Ah. Well. It was a long shot. Consider Trypticon sufficiently distracted, Autobots. I'll do what I can to slow him down." And with that grim but heroic declaration, Starscream closed the comm line.

Thirty seconds later, he was shrieking in terror and babbling apologies as he barrel rolled and looped to dodge Trypticon's stasis locking laser optics.

###

Miko and Fowler huddled cheek-to-cheek with Fowler's phone between their ears. They perked up when the phone was answered. Fowler hissed to Miko, "Tell her hi—"

Miko waved him off, and brightly said, "Moshi moshi! Gojo-sensei desu ka? Hai. Mi—"

"Is it her?" Fowler hissed.

Miko hissed back, "Yeah, it's her. Sumimasen. Miko da, hajimemashite. Agent Fowler no yakusha da. Watashi-tachi ga Gojira no—"

"Ask her about the box," Fowler hissed.

"I'm trying!" Miko shoved his shoulder. "Back off, I don't have room to talk."

"I can't hear if I back off."

"I can't believe you don't have speaker phone. Why do you need to hear, you don't speak Japanese. Aa—sumimasen, Gojo-sensei. Gojira no bokkusu—"

"Is that 'box'?"

"Shhh!"

"What's taking so long?" Ratchet asked. "Does she have what you need, or—"

"Damare!" Miko snapped at them, so loud they involuntarily leaned back. Miko took the opportunity to snatch the phone from Fowler and continue her conversation sweetly, "Sumimasen, Fowler-san wa chotto urusai. Gojira no bokkusu wa—"

Fowler sighed, backed off, and crossed his arms.

A couple minutes later, Miko gave him a wink and a thumbs up. Fowler rushed up to her again. "Ask for the coordinates," he hissed. "We can ground bridge it where it's needed in seconds."

"Okay, but when we pick it up, I'm doing the talking," Miko whispered, before returning to her conversation.

Fowler trudged away and groaned. "I hope she's not giving away any classified information."

"She's just given Dr. Gojo a thirty second summary of our entire conflict on Earth," Ratchet said.

"You understood Japanese this whole time?!" Fowler demanded, followed shortly by, "You let her give out a summary?!"

Ratchet shrugged. "I thought she was talking to an ally."

Fowler groaned again.

###

"I think it's headed toward New York," Raf said into Jack's phone, looking at the map on his laptop. "It's slowed down a lot, but that's still where its trajectory is pointing."

Blades, still huddled under his tarp blanket but leaning over Raf's shoulder, said, "Everything always goes for New York."

"Then that's where we'll take the box," Fowler said. They were, at the moment, in Japan, picking up "the box" from Dr. Gojo. In the background, Raf could hear Miko saying, "I can't believe I'm going to get to see Gojira, he hasn't made landfall in, like, forever—"

"What's Gojira?" Raf asked.

Fowler snapped, "Classified! Miko, stop talking about the classified asset."

"Come on! It's not like everyone in New York won't be taking a billion pictures when he gets there—"

"Good point, we might have to arrange a media blackout. Thanks for the info, Raf."

"Hold on," Raf said. "Where is this 'asset' coming from?"

"That's classif—"

"I know but—it's important. I'm worried about whether it will get to New York before Trypticon."

Fowler hesitated. "We don't know where it is right now. But, it lives a few hundred miles south of Japan."

Raf zoomed out his map. "Can it fly?"

"Nnno."

In the back of the call, Miko piped up, "But I hear he can swim super fast!"

Raf looked at the map scale and mentally measured the distance from Japan to New York. "I sure hope so."

###

Miko and Fowler bridged to New York City. The box—a small metal cube with a single button—was turned on; and an undetectable signal began playing.

Undetectable to humans, at least.

Thousands of miles away, the beast it was designed to summon stirred.

###

Night was falling on Panama.

Slowly, from the Pacific Ocean, just south of Panama City, something monstrous rose from the sea. Water ran off of its head around scales the size of cars.

It waded into the entrance of the Panama Canal and narrowly passed beneath the Bridge of Americas, ducking low to avoid hitting the bridge two hundred feet above water.

With little difficulty, it simply stepped over the Miraflores locks, at one time climbing up onto the bank beside the canal to get around a cargo ship. It was heedless of the ever increasing number of helicopters drawn to its location, shining spotlights down on it, as though it were used to drawing the attention of such illuminated gnats and considered them no more important than a human would consider a field full of fireflies.

On it went, navigating the rest of the canal the same way—over more locks, through artificial lakes, under more bridges—with the eyes of Panama trained breathlessly upon it, terrified of what it might decide to do but even more terrified at the thought of aggravating it—until it made it to the Atlantic Ocean.

It sank peacefully beneath the waves, and was gone.

###

"Don't lean so far outside the windows," Fowler said. "Lady Liberty's going to see enough tonight without having to add a kid falling to death from her crown."

"But I don't want to miss a thing!" Miko said, borrowed binoculars trained on the horizon. "This battle is going to be a once-in-a-lifetime show and I am going to see every single detail!"

"A show," Fowler said indignantly. "That thing out there could completely destroy New York City!"

"Which would totally blow," Miko said, "but, if it does happen, I'm not going to not watch it." She leaned a bit further out the window—then started. "Hey! I think I see him on the horizon!"

"Which one?" Fowler leaned out the window next to Miko. "Trypticon or Godzilla?" He pulled the box out of his pocket for the dozenth time, checking again to make sure the button was still glowing.

"Dude. It's pronounced 'Gojira.'"

"It's Godzilla when he's in the Atlantic Ocean. It's like typhoons versus hurricanes."

"Whatever. Anyway, unless Gojira grew a bunch of glowing purple lights since the last time anyone saw him, I'm pretty sure it's Trypticon."

"Let me see." Fowler held out a hand, and Miko passed over the binoculars. He focused them on the shape on the horizon. Every once in a while, beams of light crackled from its eyes like distant lightning. "He's—he's huge."

"Five hundred feet, dude."

"Yeah, but, seeing it... Sweet mother of..."

From the sea in front of Trypticon, a second form rose up, a black silhouette in the bottom half of the binocular's view. Fowler lowered them to watch Godzilla rising from the ocean. Water surged away from him in a wave as he stood. Lights from the city dully illuminated his scales. He reared his head, roared, and turned toward the monster on the horizon.

Trypticon's jaw dropped, and a horrible metal screech answered Godzilla.

Slowly, relentlessly, legs churning the water, Godzilla waded out into New York Bay, charging toward Trypticon. Godzilla's dorsal fins lit up an icy blue, and he blasted a bright, cold light toward Trypticon.

Fowler's jaw dropped. Miko simply whispered, "Whoa."

For a moment, they watched in silence, as the two massive monsters collided.

Finally, Miko said, "Isn't Gojira's breath laser, like, radioactive?"

"Oh, yeah. We're both gonna get cancer."

###

Starscream sighed in relief as Trypticon switched his attention to... whatever in the world this undersized organic Trypticon was.

He had narrowly dodged hundreds of stasis beams from Trypticon's optics. As well as far too many bellowed taunts at him about how he was a pest, a nuisance, unworthy of Unicron's power and thus rejected for his weakness. Which sounded like a whole bunch of nonsense to Starscream (who, it should be noted, had been AWOL during the Decepticons' entire encounter with Unicron and hadn't had an opportunity to catch up on the news while he was on the run). But if Ratchet's report that Trypticon was hopped up on dark energon was anything to go by, the taunts said a lot about why the dark energon crystal hadn't taken in Starscream's spark as it had in Megatron's, and about whether or not "blood of Unicron" was just a fancy metaphorical name for dark energon. Apparently it wasn't as metaphorical as Starscream had assumed. Good thing it hadn't taken, then.

Now. What was he to do while Trypticon was fighting its new target and Starscream no longer had to serve as a distraction?

He circled above a couple of times, watching the battle, deciding what to do; and then dove down to Trypticon's back. He waited until Trypticon was grappling with the new monster and temporarily held in place; and then he transformed, dropped down onto the broken decks sticking out of its back, and slid down and inside.

###

Godzilla was three-fifths Trypticon's height.

That put him at the perfect height to blast his chest with a radioactive breath and dig his claws deep into his gut.

Trypticon slashed at Godzilla's face; his metal claws sank far deeper than any of the creatures Godzilla typically fought could reach. Godzilla seized the arm in his jaws before Trypticon could draw back, and cracked three teeth on the metal. That was fine. Godzilla's teeth would grow back. Based on Godzilla's experience, Trypticon's mangled right arm probably wouldn't.

This was far from the first metal doppelgänger Godzilla had fought. He hadn't lost to the others; he wasn't going to lose to this one, either. And this one had something that the others had lacked: a reactor core heart brimming with energy, much like Godzilla's own.

He planned to consume it or die trying.

###

"It's like a maze in here!" Starscream yelled. He was balanced precariously on one foot in a hallway that had turned into a nearly vertical incline, kicking at a damaged piece of wall. "This is ridiculous! I should have found the bridge ages ago!" Finally, the wall gave way, and Starscream climbed through it into a dark, cramped cavity. Trypticon had remained distracted enough by his new sparring partner that he hadn't reactivated his internal defenses; although Starscream had passed dozens of stasis locked or dead Vehicons, all in crumpled piles where they'd landed when Trypticon had transformed, no stasis beams had yet been aimed in Starscream's direction. All the same, he was glad to be out of a hallway and in the empty space between walls. It was less likely that there would be functional stasis beams in a gap like this. Right?

Eventually—after being unceremoniously slammed into a few hard surfaces as Trypticon rocked back and forth—Starscream managed to locate the bridge. None of the consoles responded to his inputs, curses, or heel kicks. Well, that was just fantastic, wasn't it? Perhaps he could try somewhere else. The engine room, maybe?

As he headed out of the bridge, he noticed Soundwave slumped on the floor, and paused. Hmm. Well, the Autobots were already in debt to Starscream. It wouldn't hurt to pick up a few Decepticon debts too, now would it? Besides, the Decepticons would fall apart within days without Soundwave—and then what army would Starscream have to lead?

He maneuvered one of Soundwave's arms over his shoulder, put his arm around Soundwave's waist, and dragged him out of the bridge toward the nearest escape to open air.

###

Over and over, Trypticon blasted Godzilla with his laser eyes. He didn't seem to notice that Godzilla was simply absorbing the power—like strange lightning, electrifying him. His whole body crackled with electric energy like he'd rarely had a chance to use before. It would be temporary, but it would be a huge advantage for this battle.

Godzilla had torn gashes in Trypticon's side and throat. Inside were little hallways and rooms, with square corners and lighting fixtures, just like the inside of a building. As it so happened, Godzilla was extremely proficient at destroying buildings.

Trypticon seemed to have figured out he was losing. He spun, his stubby tail slamming Godzilla and knocking him over into the water, and turned, trying to escape. Godzilla lurched back to his feet, eyes locked furiously on his prey. Reactor core heart thrumming, pulsing its energy through his blood—Godzilla's electrified body called to the metal in Trypticon. Behind him, ships in New York Harbor groaned and tilted in his direction. Trypticon's feet lost purchase on the bottom of the bay, as he was magnetically pulled backwards, into Godzilla's arms. Godzilla wrapped his arms around Trypticon, digging his claws into the neck and side wounds he'd already left, and released all the electricity his body had been holding as a single charged blast back into Trypticon. Trypticon seized, blue electricity arcing between his joints and across his open wounds, then sagged against Godzilla, stunned.

###

"Look," Fowler yelled down from the Statue of Liberty's crown at Starscream, "I don't care if you've gotta fly all the way to Canada, you are not dropping a shipload of Decepticon soldiers at Lady Liberty's feet!"

"And why not?!"

"This is—this is sovereign American land, not a Decepticon base! In fact, this island is probably the most American land you'll find!"

"Oh, oh is it now! Is it! What's so great about it that I can't drop a few unconscious soldiers here? All I see is a big green statue!"

"That 'big green statue' is Lady Liberty! She's, she's the symbol of everything good about America! You know— 'Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore'—"

Starscream gestured frantically at Soundwave, Knock Out, and the half dozen Vehicons he'd hauled back so far, and hysterically demanded, "Do we not look like wretched refuse to you?! They're not even conscious!"

Fowler considered that. "... Dang it." He pulled in the window, and shrugged at Miko. "He's right. There's no way I can kick him out."

Miko shook her head.

At the the sound of a thunder crack, Starscream turned toward the battling behemoths, just in time to see the Trypticon thrash with what looked like an electrical overload in the organic beast's arms. At the same time, the stasis locked Decepticons on the ground shuddered, groaned, and went slack. Soundwave sat up first, holding a hand to his head and shaking it.

"It broke the stasis?" Starscream looked between the soldiers, and then back at the monsters. "Trypticon must have been sending out a signal to maintain the stasis... Soundwave! Are you flightworthy?"

Soundwave looked up, a question mark flashing on his visor, and asked in two different voices, "'Starscream'—'what?'"

"Never mind what I'm doing here! Can you fly?" He pointed back toward the battle. "That thing is crushing soldiers with every swipe, and if we still want to have an army in the morning, we've got to evacuate as many as we can!"

Soundwave hesitated, nodded, and transformed.

Starscream transformed as well and turned, hovering. "Knock Out!"

"Whaaahah? What? Who?"

"You're in charge until we get back!"

"Of what?" But Starscream and Soundwave had already taken off, heading back toward Trypticon.

Knock Out stood, sat down, uncertainly stood again in an attempt to look in charge, and finally sat for good. "... What's going on?"

###

Little metal gnats flew around Trypticon, and more began pouring out of his back and wounds, dropping into the water. Godzilla ignored them; they weren't attacking him. In fact, they were using little lasers to punch even more holes in Trypticon's hide, holes that even more purple gnats to poured out of.

Trypticon was weak, tottering on his feet. Godzilla tore into his chest with claws and teeth, ripping through his thickest armor in search of his radioactive heart. Trypticon could only feebly fight back.

At last, with a triumphant roar, Godzilla tore out Trypticon's glowing mechanical heart and began to chew.

###

Several hundred bedraggled Vehicons were packed shoulder-to-shoulder on Liberty Island. More arrived by the minute, swimming and flying, obeying Starscream and Soundwave's commed orders to abandon ship by any means necessary and make way northwest to the small island with the giant green human. Knock Out, despite Fowler's protests, was now sitting on the Statue of Liberty's pedestal at Lady Liberty's feet, to keep himself above the crowd and therefore maintain the illusion that he had any sort of command over the stranded Vehicons.

Starscream and Soundwave landed at the base of the pedestal just in time to see the shorter monster use its teeth to rip Trypticon's power core—complete with a glowing, swirling purple mass that appeared to be an unnaturally resurrected spark—and, after a few seconds of chewing, swallow it near-whole. With another victorious bellow, it spewed a geyser of purple light from its mouth into the night sky.

"Ohhhh daaaang." Miko leaned out her window. "Hey, Doc Knock! Is dark energon radioactive?"

"Uhh, obviously?"

"Wow. No wonder Big G wanted Trypticon's spark so bad."

"What, does it..." Knock Out pointed shakily at the organic monster, "does it eat radioactive things?"

"Uh, obviously?"

Knock Out stared.

"This is so bad," Miko said giddily.

Starscream was pointing at the Vehicons in the crowd one by one, mouth moving as he tried to count them. "This is impos— Everybody, STOP MOVING!" A few Vehicons froze. Most kept fidgeting and jostling, trying to get into positions from which they could more comfortably obey the order. A small cluster knocked themselves over, which started a domino effect. Starscream threw up his hands with a noise of frustration. "Whatever. We'll count you later." He watched in disapproval as a third of the surviving army toppled over in slow motion.

Soundwave tapped Starscream's shoulder. "'Lord Megatron?'"

"I didn't see him," Starscream snapped. At Soundwave's stare, he said defensively, "I didn't! Anyway, if I had, what was I supposed to do? Carry him out myself?"

Soundwave gave Starscream a slow, patronizing nod.

Starscream flung out his spindly arms for Soundwave to observe. "With these?!"

Knock Out cut in, "The last I heard from Megatron, he was heading to the power core to extract the dark energon from the Nemesis."

Starscream said, "You mean the one that beast—"

"Its name is Big G," Knock Out said.

"The one Big G just swallowed?"

"Yeah, that one." Knock Out paused. "Oh."

The three officers looked forlornly at Trypticon, slumping slowly and ignobly into the water. Godzilla, meal finished, was trudging off into the ocean, slowly disappearing into deeper water.

Soundwave began playing "Taps."

"Oh, stuff it," Starscream muttered. Soundwave played "Taps" louder.

Raising his voice, Starscream said, "Of course, this does bring up the question of chain of command. With Megatron gone—and, obviously, with my own triumphant return to the Decepticons..."

"Taps" immediately cut off, and Soundwave played Starscream's voice: "'Decepticons, it is with deep sorrow that I note for the log, Megatron's spark has been extinguished. All. Hail.'—'Soundwave.'"

Starscream had begun smirking, but it immediately twisted into a scowl. "Excuse me?! After I single-handedly saved the army? And personally hauled you from the bowels of Trypticon, you ungrateful—"

Soundwave whipped out his feelers. Starscream skittered several steps back. "We can, of course, discuss chain of command later."

"Technically," Knock Out said, "Dreadwing is still the second in command. Has anyone seen him?"

Starscream and Soundwave looked at each other, and then out at the crowd. Soundwave lifted his feelers to look around like periscopes.

Knock Out shrugged. "Meh. I didn't like him much anyway."

Fowler yelled down, "Maybe you should worry less about who's in charge and more about what you're going to do now. Seeing as you're stranded on an island. Without a ship. And surrounded."

"Surrounded?!" Starscream demanded. "What do you mean, surro—" He looked around, and froze. Helicopters and ships were edging in on the island on three sides, and were quickly closing the gap to the southeast between Liberty Island and Trypticon. The shore of New York City behind them was lined with tanks wherever they fit. Starscream stared. Then looked up at Fowler. "Perhaps it's time to discuss a... meeting of minds with the Autobots, to productively combine our resources."

"Uh-huh," Fowler said, smirking.

Soundwave dropped into a battle stance, feelers reeling back like snakes about to strike Starscream. Starscream skittered farther away again. "Don't do that! I'm not talking about surrender! Just a—a—coming to an agreement! The Autobots owe me a favor for all this, after all!" Tone growing more indignant, he went on, "You owe me a favor, too! You all do! You owe it to me to do what I say! I basically single-handedly saved the Cybertronian population on Earth, so if I think it's time to make overtures of peace the least you can do is hear me out—"

In the distance, Godzilla's dorsal fins disappeared beneath the water. With a mere ripple in the ocean, he was gone.

###

Comments/reblogs are welcome! If you want to leave a tip or like the fic on AO3, the links are in my description!

[myassbrokethefall]

you-and-me-mulder replied to your post: I got shingles a few years ago on my abdomen and...

I know five people who have had shingles. Three were under 35. I feel like this “over 50” line is an old wives tale doctors haven’t figured out. Or, has the virus changed? Either way, they need to better communicate to doctors that it occurs at many ages because it’s unbearable pain to deal with!

Since I got it I’ve heard of a ton of people as well who have had it at a younger age. 

I think one factor is that it tends to be more dangerous in older people, which is why that’s such a big focus. At my doctor’s office, the vaccine is available for people over 50 only, because there’s a shortage (or if you have some prioritizing factor like a suppressed immune system). The NP who saw me said that even though having it now will probably make me immune to getting it again, she would still recommend that I get the vaccine when I’m over 50. 

It sounds like there is a lot of misconception that it’s an “old person” disease, but I think part of the reason for that is also that it’s a bigger deal in older people. If I was gonna get it, I’m kind of glad I got it now and not when I’m 70 or something. 

I do also wonder if something has changed that has caused more people to get it -- I have done zero research into that, but the fact that, say, they’re out of vaccines at my doctor’s, and the fact that I feel like I’ve just HEARD about shingles more in recent years, makes me wonder. I can imagine zillions of variables, from population trends to environmental factors, that could conceivably be at fault for that if it’s a real trend. 

[friendlyneighborhoodborg]

Marc Appreciation Week 2019| Day 3: Favorite Ship| “Couples Villainy”

Sorry I was later than usual today.  School dragged today.  But I swear, I’m gonna finish this all by Saturday’s deadline.  Even if I have to post days 4-6 on day 7, I will finish on time.

Alright, time for some more loosely-interpreted prompts.  This one, “Favorite Ship.”  Well, I hope it’s obvious by now who I ship Marc with, so today I’ve made the prompt about shipping in general.  This is a thinly-veiled excuse for not really doing the actual requested prompt.

Disclaimers were in Day 1.  And btw, here’s about where that warning about dysphoria comes in, and where I need y’all to tell me if I’m handling it right.

(~2000 words (Holy Crap) in case you care)

Chapters:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7

           The third day of their collaboration was technically the first, being the first day either of them got any work done on the comic.  They had spent the school day texting each other ideas for the story, so that when it came time to meet up in the art room after school, they had completely conflicting concepts of what they wanted to do.

           Especially the villains to use.

           “I still think bringing in Frightingale and Guitar Villain together would be awesome.”

           “Thematically, sure,” Marc argued.  “But think of the power-sets.  They don’t really go together- Frightingale freezes, Guitar Villain makes them dance.”  He scribbled something else down in his notes.  “Consider powers that could play into each other or compliment each other.”

           They sat in the back corner of the room, hunched over one table with their voices low.  Marc had noticed Nathaniel’s classmates come in later, and his friend had introduced them as they did.  Rose and Juleka were on the side of the room, Rose with a little notebook of poetry and Juleka with her bass guitar.  Alix was spray-painting a wall (hopefully with the school’s permission), and the art teacher whose name escaped him watched her warily (suggesting it wasn’t).  More spray cans were stacked near where Juleka was sitting.  Marinette, the only face Marc knew in this club, was absent from the meeting.

           “Such as?” prompted Nath.

           “Well, I can’t actually think of any yet.”  He pursed his lips.  “Dark Cupid and Glaciator?”

           “One breaks up love, one freezes the resultant single people.”  Nathan shook his head.  “You see, that almost sounds kinda gimmicky.”

           “You got a better idea?”

           “We don’t need to pair them up.”  He tore off another sheet from his sketchpad. “Why don’t we let Puppeteer loose in a toy store?  If she finds an action figures section, maybe with the heroes’ figures in it…”

           Marc looked across at him.  “Dude,” he said. “That’s crazy awesome.  But how on earth would the heroes beat her after that?”

           “With the aid of a brand-new, never-before-seen and therefore unfranchised hero.”  Nath grinned smugly.  “See? I can be clever, too.”

           Even Marc had to laugh at that.  “Cool.  But Puppeteer’s pretty powerless on her own, she’d need a way to get her allies right off the bat.  Does Marinette still make those villain dolls?”

           Nathaniel slapped his page in defeat.  “No,” he said.  “I remember now, I asked her that before.”  At Marc’s questioning look, he explained.  “I was trying to work Puppeteer into a different story.  Forget that one then.”

           “Back to our first problem, then.”

           “It occurs, this is kind of how I work normally.”  The redhead chuckled lightly.  “I get too many ideas that I have to thin them out.  Which sucks, cause I think they’re all good, but I don’t want to do them all.”  He waved a hand dismissively.  “So, uh, welcome to my brain, I guess.”

           “Heh.”  Marc bit his lip anxiously.  “I don’t know if you noticed, but your pink friend is standing right there, listening in.”

           Nathaniel rolled his eyes and turned to face the intruder.  “I told you, Rose, I’m not spoiling it.”

           “Come on,” the girl moaned.  “Your stories are so interesting, Nathaniel, I really want to see what you’re working on.”

           “Right now, we’re not working on anything,” Marc pointed out.  “We can’t even decide which villains we want to use in this story.”

           Nath had an idea.  “Why don’t you help?”

           “What?” Rose gasped in delight.  “You want me to help with the story?”

           “Sure.  We can’t agree on anything.  What do you want to see?”

           “Oh, geez,” she gushed.  “This is so cool!  I get to pick the story!”

           “Hey,” piped Marc, looking at his partner. “Are you sure about this?”

           “Couldn’t hurt.  This is just brainstorming, after all.”

           He shrugged.  “Fine.  Rose, you got any ideas?”      

           “I’ve got it!  You should have a couples’ team-up.”  She clapped her hands together and rocked back on her heels.  “Then even the villains can get a romantic subplot.”

           “But…”  Marc scrunched his face.  “As villains?  But they won’t remember anything.”

           “Trust me,” Rose assured.  “I’ve seen it loads of times before.  Nothing brings two people together like a supervillain rampage.”  She sighed dreamily.  “So romantic.”

           “If you say so.”

           “I’m serious!”

           “Rose has a point.”  Alix agreed, finishing a yellowish streak on her wall.  “We know a lot of couples who got together after one of them went butterfly. Rust!”  Without even looking up from tuning her guitar, Juleka threw the requested color over to her.  “Even the first one we had, over a year ago, Stoneheart.  The whole reason he got corrupted was ‘cause he couldn’t spit out his crush and he was getting picked on for it.  Ivan and Mylène have been sickeningly saccharine ever since.”

           “And,” Rose added, “don’t forget, they had their first kiss after Mylène was akumatized.”  

           “ ‘Scuse me,” Marc butt in.  “This is the same Mylène that’s in that play with her dad?”

           “Uh-huh.”

           “She and her boyfriend have been akumatized?”

           “Yep.  Her dad, too.”

           “Cripes.”  Marc surveyed the room.  “You know, there’s a lot of rumors that come from your guys’ class.”

           “We’re aware,” Alix drawled, dropping her current can for a silver can in the row next to her.

           “So?”  Nath waited for his partner’s approval.  “Couples?”

           “Well…”  Marc gave in. “That’s still a better idea than what we’ve got.”  He turned up to Rose again.  “Have anyone in mind?”

           “Do Mylène and Ivan!”  She frowned suddenly.  “Or no, wait, Ondine and Kim!  No, Nino and Alya!”

           Marc blinked.  “You know an awful lot of past akumas.”

           “Well, everyone in our homeroom has been akumatized, so…”  She nodded.  “Yeah, we know a lot.”

           Marc gaped, aghast.  “E-everyone?”

           “Well, all but two.”  Rose suddenly found herself conflicted.  “Oh, no, I’m rooting for them to get together, but I don’t want them to get akumatized…”

           “How have all of you gotten akumatized!?” he exclaimed.  “I’ve heard of your class, I thought you were the ones with the big emotional support thing going on!”

           “Well, that was only after we got akumatized,” Alix explained.  She squinted.  “Whose idea for a word was ‘akumatized?’  That’s such a mouthful.”

           “Okay.”  Exasperated, he threw up his hands. “Seriously, what’s the deal here with your class?”

           “Well.”  Alix slid off her mask and stepped back to appraise her wall.  “You ever met Chloé Bourgeois?”

           Marc tilted his head.  “Once or twice.  Wasn’t she that kinda bratty girl who failed superhero-ing so badly she only got her second chance so she’d stop bragging about it?”

           “Hah!”  Alix shouted. “If only.  No, she’s still bragging about it.  Yellow!”  She held out her hand, waiting for someone to toss it to her, until she realized it was already in the pile at her feet.  “She’s in our homeroom, too.  And she’s been the cause for… oh, I think everyone but Ivan, Max, Lila and Nino.”  She uncapped the can and shook it.  “Like, two-thirds, including the teacher, and not counting people outside our class.”

           “Hang on,” Juleka challenged as Alix widened her yellow streak. “What about you?”

           “I blame her indirectly.  Dark Green!”  She caught it without even looking at her.  “You know, Rose, you didn’t get a girlfriend from your akuma.  In fact, if I recall correctly from the zillion times you’ve told the story, you and Juleka going out had nothing to do with the supervillain drama.”

           “Oh, yeah,” Rose realized.  She thought about this for a moment, looking at Juleka as if appraising the foundation of their relationship.  “Well, not every romance has to start like that, I guess.”  She snapped her fingers.  “Hey, but if you have Princess Fragrance in your big issue,” she leaned across the writers’ table for emphasis.  “I’ve got a request.”

           Nath rolled his eyes.  “Let me guess, you want her to team up with Reflekta?”

           “Heavens no!”  She got back on her feet and lowered her voice.  “Look, Juleka… doesn’t like Reflekta a lot.  I mean, she’s gotten a lot better with making herself more visible, but…”  She glanced back worriedly as Juleka stood up, having heard the conversation up to now. “It’s more out of resentment than anything else.”

           “Resentment?” Marc repeated, confused.  “How so?”

           “Nathan got to weaponize his passion,” Juleka stated.  “Rose was a twisted fairy-tale witch.  Even Sabrina got poetic justice.”  She crossed her arms, scowling to the side.  “I just made people look different, and I was decked-out in fuchsia.”

           Rose nodded, and added for Marc’s benefit, “She… hates fuchsia.”

           “I would have looked killer in red.”

           “Yep.”

           “Or purple, my signature.  Or I could have made pink creepy again.”

           “I know.”  Rose tried holding her arm, attempting to quell Juleka’s escalating tone.  “We know, sweetie.”

           “Just not all three of them.”  She looked behind her, scanning the room.  Marc noticed that the art teacher must have left the area moments ago. Juleka turned back.  “Who’s fucking idea was it to take those colors and think, oh, let’s mix those together, that’s a nice shade.  Let’s put it on this goth girl with heels and a fluffy rubber skirt.”

           Rose winced at the swear.  “She’s still not over it.”

           “I had eyelash jewelry, Rose!  No one can look threatening with eyelash jewelry!”

           “I’m sorry you all have to see this.  I swear, she hasn’t had this rant in months.”

           “I…” Juleka looked back at the sound of the door opening and saw the art teacher come back.  She lowered her voice to a grumble.  “I mean, everyone got some awesome dark side alter ego, and I didn’t.”  She started walking back to her bass.  “I got the absolute bottom of the barrel.”

           Everyone was still looking at Juleka after her outburst, so no one was looking at Marc.

           Marc’s face was a deathly pale.

           Words she had used flew through his head, replaying over and over and over.

           ‘Fuchsia.’

           ‘Heels.’

           ‘Fluffy Skirt.’

           ‘Eyelash Jewelry.’

           ‘Reflekta.’

           ‘Made people look different.’

           “That was you?” Marc squeaked, slamming a hand over his mouth.

           Rose looked at Marc strangely.  “Are you alright, Marc?”  

           “I…”  He tried to come up with an excuse.  “Excuse me.”

           He kept his head down as he escaped the classroom, choking down something threatening to come up from his stomach.

           He kept his head down walking into the washrooms, struggling to bring his breathing back under control and calm his anxiety.

           He only brought his head up to look at himself in the mirror.

           ‘Ugh, not him again.’

           It was that feeling again.  The one he didn’t have the right words for.  The one that came on fast and strong, but left soon after.

           He thought he knew what it was before, but he had been wrong.

           Someone opened a stall behind him.  Fine, let him look at the creep glaring at himself in the—

           “Marc?” Marinette called out, voice laced with worry. “W-What are you doing here?”

           Marc’s eyes widened in horror.  “I—” he stammered, clutching his journal like a lifeline. “I’m sorry, I’m in the wrong—”  He gave up trying to speak and he bolted.

           And he ran out of the girls’ washroom and back outside into the courtyard.

           And he fought down the pangs of hurt that told him no, he wasn’t in the wrong place.

           And he didn’t stop until he was back at the art room.

           “And anyway, he hasn’t been akumatized yet, but wouldn’t it be sweet if the Gamer went to him and—”  Rose stopped her rambling when Marc re-entered, two events which were to Nath’s relief.  “Oh, Marc, you’re back!” she chirped.

           “Is something wrong?” Nathan asked.

           “Yeah, I’m fine.”  Marc’s eyes widened and he corrected himself.  “I mean, no, nothing’s wrong.  Let’s uh…”  He tried to remember what the conversation was.  “Let’s do Rose’s first idea.  Her and Juleka, but not with R—” he gulped, too many emotions cluttering up that name for him to mention safely.  He managed to choke “Reflekta” out, and he hoped no one understood.

           “Uh… sure.”  Nath shrugged.  “I’ve never tried making an akuma before.”

           “Oooh,” Rose agreed.  “That’s an even better idea.  Let us know if you need help.”

           Rose left to rejoin her girlfriend, and Marc meekly took his seat again, shakily opening his journal.

           As Nathaniel started doodling up concepts, Marc sat across from him, doing nothing except idly rubbing his hands together.

           His hands.

           His arms.  His neck.  His chest.  His legs.  His face.

           His him.

           Why did it all suddenly make him want to scream?

Okay, this is the most rushed chapter yet, especially for being so long.

In this, I’m trying to write Marc as genderfluid (like Hope Morphin, the person he was based off of), but I’ve found during research that fluidity itself has a pretty loose definition, so I just picked one I thought would work.  I’d like to hear some feedback over if I’m doing something insensitive or offensive; this fic is still being edited, there’s still time for me to change things.

Also, I’ve started cross-posting this to AO3, under the username “BenignCyborg”.  I know Tumblr has a character limit for comments, so if you have something longer you can go there.

[lindoig8]

Friday, 3 September

I wonder how much of the past 2 weeks I can remember – it is so long since I posted anything, well over two weeks.

It was an interesting day, at least for me. Heather stayed in van but I went to the Broome Bird Observatory. I had been there before, but of course, every time is different when you are looking for birds. I walked 7 or 8 kilometres on the beach, over rocks and along bush tracks. It was very hot and many of the birds were probably hiding from the heat, but I saw nearly 50 species, some new for this trip as well as a few lifers. I took almost 200 photos and still have more than 40 to examine for additional species. I have spent many hours on them since the day and have confirmed most of the species but maybe I might yet identify a couple more.

I spent 4 or 5 hours out there and it was about 45 minutes each way in the car, but in the heat, that was enough so I retreated to the air conditioner in the van by mid-afternoon.

We spent another hour or so planning out the next few days of our trip – a seemingly pointless exercise because we rarely follow our plans in any detail. It is much more fun to have some ideas, especially of the route, and then just wing it when we see something of particular interest.

Saturday, 4 September

As evidence of this, our first planned stop was scheduled to be the Sandfire Roadhouse where we stayed last trip. There had not been a lot to look at on the way south and we hadn’t stopped often so it was still early when we reached Sandfire. We just kept driving a further 100-odd kilometres to Pardoo, another roadhouse. It was very windy there and the gale-force winds kept up for almost 3 days, sometimes making driving a little difficult, particularly when passing any of the hundreds of road-trains that interrupted or confused the wind patterns with their own massive bow-waves. A couple of nights, I had to get up in the early hours to roll in our awning and I have had to wander around next morning to locate and collect our buckets and other odds and ends that have blown away from the van during the night.

An unfortunate thing happened there – no idea how, but the inside handle on the caravan door broke and came off. We have tried to get it replaced a few times since then, but nobody has been able to help. We are able to use the handle to get out of the van but it is inconvenient and if the loose handle fell out as the door was blown shut for example, we could be locked in for ever!

Sunday, 5 September

It was Father’s Day and I had some lovely calls from the kids to ensure my day started off extra well.

We continued down the Great Northern Highway, deliberately bypassing Port Hedland (that we don’t much like – some unhappy memories of the caravan park in particular) but we stopped to do some grocery shopping at Coles in South Hedland, a sort of satellite town a few kilometres away from the main city. We continued down the coast and called in at Roebourne and Cossack before booking into the Point Sampson caravan park. We had explored this area four years ago, but decided to stay for a couple of days this time. I quite like historic quiet Cossack, but Roebourne is essentially an aboriginal town now and doesn’t have much to recommend it.

Our caravan site was fairly small and there was very little room to manoeuvre in front of the site, but by sheer fluke, I managed to get everything right and we slid happily into the exact right position first up – earning me a comment from the guy parked next to us – ‘the smoothest bit of parking I have ever seen’ according to him. It is often embarrassing trying to get onto some sites with 20 or 30 bystanders enjoying their Happy Hours and discussing what I should be doing better when trying to park. The one good thing about it of course, is that they all had their turn with people gawking and joking about their efforts too.

It was still very windy right on the coast and I had to roll the awning in at 3 am again. I had gone for a short walk along the boardwalk outside the van park soon after we arrived – even photographed a Black-shouldered Kite – only the second one seen since leaving home – and a few smaller birds near the foreshore lookout. It had been so windy at the lookout that I thought the awning would be a problem during the night!

Monday, 6 September

We decided to go into Karratha and to one of our areas of exploration on the Burrum Peninsula, just out of Dampier.

We called in at Wickham just to have a look around, but saw a BWS there so took the opportunity to stock up on a bit more liquid refreshment – it is often hot dry work out here at the end of the day. Then we detoured off the main road to Cleaverville. This is not a town. It is just a place where many caravans perch atop the dunes and camp (maybe for weeks by the look of some of the semi-permanent set-ups we saw – even more than 4 years ago). It looks very desolate to us and it would be disappointing to get all set up to enjoy the solitude, only to find someone else drive in and set up near you. We ate our lunch near the boat ramp and a Council truck came in to service the toilets and collect the rubbish, but all of this is basically in the bush – and basically VERY basic! Not really our thing (but wait for Mount Florence!)

We fuelled up in Karratha but didn’t really spend much time in town. We tried to find a place to ask about a new door handle, but most of the caravan resources are in the CBD (very strange) and there is no way we could park the van close enough to have a repair done anyway.

We went out to Dampier on the coast (about 10 or so kilometres away) and drove out to the Burrup Peninsula where all the massive industrial activity is. We explored it fairly comprehensively last visit, but there must be a zillion dollars of investment out there – mainly oil and gas processing but many square kilometres of it. We took a few photos, but didn’t tarry long. We tried to get down to a small creek we visited last time, but the road just went from extremely bad, to much worse, to virtually impossible, so we retraced out wheel-tracks and headed out to Hearson – a long sloping shelly beach a little closer to town. Last time we were there, the tide was out and we walked a long way out, exploring the rock pools and photographing a few little waders. The tide turned while we were way out and we had to hurry back to avoid an unscheduled swim. This time, the tide was already in, so we just looked and left.

The landscape is quite extraordinary in this region. The rocks are red, very dark, and a mountainous jumble of red stone-blocks, completely broken up with mainly smooth eroded edges, the biggest probably the size of a fridge – but millions upon millions, just piled higgledy-piggeldy and bare of a single blade of grass. Of course, lower down, it is a jungle of spinifex and climbing on the rocks is almost impossible. There is one area where there are literally thousands of etchings made by hundreds of generations of aborigines, some easy to interpret, some mere smudges, with the detail taken by millennia of hot winds and rain. Last time we visited, we could walk a long way up a valley to see the petroglyphs, but the local tribe has now ‘improved’ the area with a path and a few indecipherable signs, fencing off at least 95% of what we saw last visit. All pretty bland and uninteresting now and certainly no longer a white-friendly/educational experience for the tourists.

On the way back to Point Sampson, we detoured on a road to Cape Lambert. Alas, we never got there – the whole Cape area is quarantined for some sort of mine. Huge areas up here are completely inaccessible in favour of the almighty dollar.

[magic5ball]

Nature Trail to Hell Arc V: Back into Hell (XII)

Chapter 12: Punishment Time

           When you’re older, one of the things you learn about punishments is that they’re never as bad as you think they’re gonna be. Don’t ask how little me thought there could be something in that office worse than Bob-Sardoth, but if you’ve been paying attention, you’d have realized my brain works a bit funky by now. Worst, though, was that I didn’t even give a crap. My body was a limp, freezing piece of spaghetti that had to be led along by Hoebag’s hand. Despite being back in my own body, I felt like more like a ghost than ever.

            I was surprised how little the office had changed. The desk now had a few severed heads on it (nobody I knew, thank goodness), but it was nothing a little spring cleaning couldn’t get fix (the odor was another story). 

Shatner was already in a seat, looking like he’d just punched his way out of the belly of a tiger (which he probably had). He glanced quietly at us as we shuffled into our chairs, Hoebag swiping the heads off the desk and onto the floor, where they bounced like a couple of baseballs. I noticed the expression on her face seemed oddly serene, like she’d just passed a big fart.

“All right, you three,” she began. If I didn’t notice something odd about her voice before, I certainly picked it up now. It seemed strangely… eternal, for lack of a better word. “I would just like to say…”

We lowered our heads in preparation for the mother of all verbal eviscerations. 

“I’m sorry.”

I rose my head all slow-like. As happy as I was to have survived an encounter with Hoebag unscathed, I knew I couldn’t exactly let my guard down, either. Our response would have to be chosen carefully, lest we get sentenced to the time out chair for the rest of the summer. And it wasn’t my first rodeo with this sort of thing, either. I’d narrowly avoided detention back at school more times than I could count. Mostly by promising Principal Farley my Mom would sue his butt into oblivion. But what were the odds that trick would work on Hoebag? I’m usually a do first, think later kind of guy, but for this, I was gonna have to think things through. 

Or Shatner could just blurt the first thing on his mind. 

“Are you BLOODY SEEIOUS?! We raised a demon! We got you possessed! We are all, at least in part,  accessories to COMMUNISM! And-and”

Tears kept him from going further, enough I’m suprised the porr guy didn’t melt into a puddle right then and there. Hilda, for her part, stared straight at Hoebag, saying nothing. 

Something heavy welled up in my chest. Something I thought only existed in nerds and T.V. Christmas specials.

Guilt.

Getting up from my seat, I hugged Shatner. Together, the two of us gushed out a regular monsoon of tears and snot, Hilda joining our huddle moments later. When we ran out of water in our bodies, Ms. Hoebag quietly ushered us back to our seats. 

“Calm down, you three. Now, I’m going to tell you a story, all right?”

We nodded weakly.

“Listen closely…

Long ago, there was a really, really mean demon who ruled this land named Bob-Sardoth. He gave everyone wedgies and invented oatmeal so nobody would ever be happy again. And he would have taken over the world, plunging mankind into a zillion years of darkness, if not for a few brave warriors who, useing an ancient ritual, sealed him in a fuzzy prison. After the feat, one of these warriors was chosen to be the guardian of said prison, a job he passed onto his children, who they then passed onto their children, and so forth. Time passed, the land became a summer camp, and after five hundred generations, the role of Bob Sardoth’s warden was given to me. But for the past fifteen years I thought it was a good idea to have the kids take care of Bob’s prison. To build character. I didn’t expect anyone would try actually try to release him!”

To be frank, Hoebag probably should have saved the story for another time. As it was, yours truly was five seconds away from collapsing from exhaustion. 

“So I apologize, you three. I put my responsibilities onto you and all my other charges, and something very bad happened an account of my negligence.”

It was a scene I’ll remember ‘til my dying days: the first time in my life when an adult apologized to me! Frankly, I figured I had a higher chance of getting that pet Lystrosaurus for Christmas.

Only for her to spew out something so sappy it made me want to barf on my already empty stomach.

“And what’s more, Watterson, you helped another kid find her inner goodness when no one else would!”

“Hilda?”

It hadn’t occurred to me what might be happening with her, seeing how her parent was sent to the Underworld and all. Did orphanages take custody of demon farts?

Hilda smiled at me ever so slightly. 

“What can I say? You helped me out when I was in a bad funk.”

Hoebag nodded. 

“Exactly! It might not have seemed like it, but when I was trapped in that demon, I was still conscious. It was Bob-Sardoth’s… sadistic way of running my mind through the wringer, so to speak. But what you kids need to know is, I saw everything. Including, Watterson how you were willing to risk your own life to help a friend in need! And for that, I’m very pleased to give you this sticker!”

Before I could so much as lift a finger, a big, round, scratch-n-sniff sticker of a smiling fruit was plastered to my chest. One that read ‘Orange you glad to be here?’ 

A wave of peaceful ecstasy passed through my body as the nicotine crept into my system. 

“So…if you’re responsible for getting your camp counselor possessed by a demon, resulting in the whole camp becoming a dictatorship, but you do something good for one person, that makes you a hero?”

Hoebag sighed, putting her head in her hands. “Kid, its’ been such a crazy summer I don’t even give a f*ck anymore.”

The three of us stared, jaws agape, now posessing the forbidden knowledge that Hoebag could and would drop the F-Bomb. 

By all means, that should have been it. A final note of hopefulness at the end of a crazy summer, the heros having triumphed over the evil they were partly responsible for. Shatner was dismissed back to his cabin, then Hilda. But I was stopped, not that I had the energy to go anywhere anyway. 

“Oh, Watterson! One last thing!”

The light feeling in my chest was replaced by the weight of my heart sinking into my belly. 

“Remember that time you wore your underpants in the pool?”

I nodded. One did not simply forget that sot of epic blunder.

“Well, the security cameras by the pool caught the whooollleeee thing, so guess who’s the star of our next Camp Blooper reel!”

The Camp Blooper Reel! I remembered reading about it in the brochure, back when Mom was crazy enough to think I might go to camp of my own free will. At the end of the summer, there would be this montage of all the ‘fun’ (I use the term loosely) memories we made to the backdrop of some crappy pop song. And the blooper reel was the part at the end where kids got humiliated for any misbehavior, to be immortalized in thousands DVD’s given out to every parent.

Hoebag smiled “You didn’t think I would let you off that easy, did you?”

If my life were a movie, this would be the part where I raise my head to the sky, and in the loudest voice, yell

“NOOOOOOO!”

 while the camera pans out to space.

                      Part V: Watt Outta Hell II: Back into Hell: End

                                                       .   .   .

And that’s a wrap! To all of you who’ve read this far, I want to say thank you for reading to the final arc of this story. This has been a passion project of mine for a long time, and I’m glad to be putting it out into the world, warts and all. However, sometime in July, I’ll be posting the epilogue, so stay tuned!

[moon-soo-ah]

Doramas!

So decided to do this, this is a list of dramas I’ve seen and that I want to watch, so might do a separate review of each every now and then, I was introduced to dramas about a year ago, actually more but I never saw them until later so yeah let’s say a year. I’ve seen Korean and Japanese, started with the Japanese on practice purposes and then got into the Korean ones, haven’t seen the Chinese but I do have one on my list, here we go.

Oh by the way some of this are movies, Japanese mostly because I’ve read the manga and/or seen the anime and wanted to give a try to the movie, probably to disappoint myself like SnK.

I wasn’t gonna post this yet but then I realized if I kept adding more it’ll never be over, so I might do separate posts for the ones I’ve seen. Also I’ll be modifying this list, adding more. And don’t get me started with anime haha.

I’ve seen this:

1 Litre of Tears

100 Days with Mr. Arrogant

Ao Haru Ride

Andante

Attack on Titan

Attack on Titan: End Of The World

Black Knight: The Man Who Guards Me [Airing]

Boys Over Flowers

Cinderella and the Four Knights

EXO Next Door

Falling For Do Jeon

Fight for My Way

Flower Boy Next Door

Goblin

Heartstrings

Heroine Disqualified

High Kick Through the Roof!

Hit the Top

I Do, I Do

I’m Not a Robot [airing]

Jugglers [airing]

Kill Me, Heal Me

Kuzu no Honkai

Manhole (2017)

Meloholic

Me too, Flower!

Mr. Perfect

My Golden Life [Airing]

My Secret Romance

Nigeru wa Haji da ga Yaku ni Tatsu

Parasyte

Part-Time Idol

Pinocchio

Queen of the Ring

Reunited Worlds

Ruby Ruby Love

Strong Woman Do Bong Soon

Sukitte Ii nayo

The Bride of Habaek

The Heirs

The Miracle (2013)

The Package

The Universe’s Star

Today’s Kira-kun

Touching You

Triple 

Uncontrollably Fond

Unexpected Heroes [currently watching]

Vivid Romance

W – Two Worlds

Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok Joo

While You Were Sleeping

Wolf Girl and Black Prince

Your Lie in April

To watch list:

14-sai No Haha

20th Century Boy and Girl

A Tale of Mari and Three Puppies

Ai Ore! Love Me!

Akai Ito

Akai Ito (TV Series)

Baby-faced Beauty

Beauty Inside

Big Man

Bittersweet

Blood

Boku Dake ga Inai Machi

Cheer Up!

Cheese in the Trap

Codename: Jackal

Come Back Ahjussi

Crying Out Love, In the Center of the World

Daytime Shooting Star

Doctors

Drowning Love

Entertainer

Finding Mr. Destiny

Glorious Temptation

Go Back Couple

Gomen, Aishiteru

Good Doctor

Good Morning Call

Hanamizuki -May your love bloom a hundred year-

Hapimari: Happy Marriage!?

Haruta & Chika

Haunters

Heartbreak Library

Her Senior

High Society

Hip Hop Teacher

Hwarang

I Hear Your Voice

If Cats Disappeared From the World

Itazura na Kiss - Love in Tokyo

Itazura na Kiss - Love In Tokyo 2

Just Between Lovers

Kimi ni Todoke

King of Baking, Kim Tak Goo

Kinkyori Renai

Koizora: The Movie

Kurosaki-kun no Iinari ni Nante Naranai (2015)

Kurosaki-kun no Iinari ni Nante Naranai (2016)

Kyou, Koi wo Hajimemasu

L♥DK

Legend of the Blue Sea

Looking Forward to Romance

Love in the Moonlight

March Comes in Like a Lion

March Comes in Like a Lion 2

Lucky Romance

Mirror of the Witch

Missing 9

Monsterz

My Annoying Brother

My Girl and I

No Breathing

One Step

One Week Friends

Orange

Our Gab Soon

Our Meal For Tomorrow

Ouroboros

P to JK

Personal Taste

Pieta in the Toilet

Prime Minister and I

Ranma ½

Reply 1997

Running Man (Game-Show)

Rush to the Dead Summer

Sadako vs Kayako

Scarlet Heart: Ryeo

Scent of a Woman

School 2013

School 2017

Seducing Mr. Perfect

Seondal: The Man Who Sells the River

She Was Pretty

So I Married an Anti-Fan

Something About 1 Percent

Strongest Deliveryman

Sukina Hito ga iru koto

Sunao ni Narenakute

The 100th Love With You

Tokyo Ghoul

Tomorrow I Will Date With Yesterday’s You

Twenty

What Happens to My Family?

Who Are You: School 2015

Wild Romance

World of Delight

Yell for the Blue Sky

You Who Came from the Stars

it’s so sad that I put a zillion tags and they got cut off…

[shannrussell-blog1]

One of the joys of camping is the sound, just listen….

If you are reading this in suburbia then I suspect a car, a siren, a neighbour’s dog, a drill, something is in the background.

If you are camping, just stop reading and sit back for 30 seconds, now let’s hope you aren’t next to a river with speed boats or the mongrel down the track hasn’t got his genie blasting away.

What I’m hoping you hear, is kids playing and laughing or birds chirping or the absolute sound of silence … absolute bliss … now, close your eyes, sit back and listen.

Get out of the city and explore

It was a long time ago and we were travelling from the Flinders Ranges, heading to Coober Pedy.

We always like to pull in somewhere before dark, however on this occasion, time was getting on, maybe we had spent to much time at the William Creek Pub admiring all the bits and pieces left behind by travellers that adorned the walls and ceiling (you must check it out).

We were travelling with another couple and at the time both couples had tent trailers.

I always like to travel with another vehicle when outback, you never know what could go wrong in these parts and since then we also plan our trips a bit better, make sure we are doing the right thing and camp in appropriate areas.

Anyway, it was getting dark and we had to stop, so we took a side track into the bush, pulled over, didn’t even unhitch the trailers, set the barbie up and opened a bottle of red.

A view of the heavens. Photo: Coleman

Taking in the silence, and the view

The silence I talked about before was overwhelming, almost creepy. Strangely there were not many flies. Everything seemed louder, the sizzle of the barbie and that beautiful glug noise as our beverage poured. We chatted for a while and then fell weirdly silent.

Four chairs all lined up, no lights or torches on, no noise, a very balmy night which was just perfect.

All of us had sat back in our chairs and gazed upwards. Absolutely dumbstruck, the sight is permanently etched in my mind. It felt like we could just reach up and touch the stars. There were millions, billions, zillions of stars, all shapes, all sizes, all brightness. We saw shooting stars and groups that we figured were galaxies. Our minds wandered as we thought of life on other planets.

You could imagine being on the set of Close Encounters Of The Third Kind, except no Steven Spielberg and we had no aliens in sight.

It was one of those moments that you had to pinch yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming. So to all those city slickers that have never ventured out of their comfort zones, get out there before it’s too late.

There is something special about the night sky in Australias Outback. There’s no light pollution. If you haven’t experienced it already, make it a new years resolution.

Who needs 5 stars when you can experience zillions (or more)?

Get geared up at Snowys for a better than 5-star camping experience in your own back yard.

The post Who Needs 5 Stars When You Can Have a Million? appeared first on Snowys Blog.