#wow these tags are barely related to the post anymore

[popsicle-stick]

wanna make a folk costumes of britain zine sooo fuckign bad.........

[frownyalfred]

20 Questions for Writers

I was tagged by @lurkinglurkerwholurks

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 146! It would be a larger number if I hadn't deleted all of my Supernatural fics back in the day. There were at least 30 of those, maybe more...

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

913,163 - I'm hoping to hit a million soon!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Batman, Superman, Justice League, Star Wars, Marvel

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Take Care of Business Everybody Wants You It Was Always You a sky of honey Anything Like Me

5. Do you respond to comments?

Not anymore :/ I have a really hard time keeping up with writing if I'm responding to comments. I hope my readers understand.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hmm. Probably lonely town? Dick is getting de-fibbed in the alley by Bruce, and it's not clear if he's going to survive or not.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

here as I am is hilarious if you're into jealous!Clark. otherwise the weight (salmon ladder fic) always gets me.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Yep. Mostly on borderline, but on other fics too. I love how, as I've gotten better at writing, it's changed from "wow this sucks, your writing is awful" to "you suck because you chose to have [character] do this." Luckily I think most of the hate filters over here to Tumblr, where I can happily block and forget. These days, I mostly get people commenting about how I'm wrong about something. Wrong about something I researched and triple checked before posting...

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yep! All of them, I think? At least, I haven't balked at much yet. I'm not really into the excrement related ones, so I think that would be one of my no-go's.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Yep! bloodletting (Mandalorian/Star Wars and DC Crossover) and a few Marvel/DC crossovers.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yep, a few times. What I'm more pissed about is all of my textposts being monetized over on TikTok and IG. I could be making bank off of those, considering the reach. And several of them are basically mini-fics.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! Tons. Check them out here. There's also some podfics and related works there.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not really. I've made attempts but I'm really bad at it. I tend to write spur of the moment and follow my gut on where the conversation/action goes. Planning out a fic with a partner would do them a disservice, I think.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

I really love Superbat, but Codywan is right up there with it. Something about Cody being a loyal BAMF soldier and long-suffering big brother gets me.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will?

My vampire AU. Not because I don't want to continue but I cannot decipher my notes as to what should happen next.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'm very quick, I can type up a full draft in a few hours. I like natural, snappy dialogue and I think I'm good at it. I don't shy away from weird or uncomfortable situations. I'm comfortable with writing a lot of sex/etc.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I write too quickly, sometimes I get ahead of my plot. My dialogue and descriptions can sometimes be a little too bare, or I overcorrect and become too flowery. My fics take on the tone of whatever I'm thinking about at that time.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

If you're confident in your language abilities, go for it. If you're just plugging it into google translate, consider why you're doing that first. Is the addition of this new language actually something someone would say in that moment? Or are we just using it to signal to the audience that they speak another language? Is there a way to show this without telling? That being said, I love using Mando'a in my Star Wars fic, and I've studied it for a while now to be able to do so.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Supernatural

20. Favourite fic you've written?

Probably borderline or a sky of honey. Both took a ton out of me and I'm proud they're whole and standing on their own right now.

---

I'll tag anyone who wants to play! Go wild.

[sugaaaaaaaar]

I feel like I need to start tagging these types of posts as "Cookie run makes Sug go insane"

Anyway, what is up with the Cookie Timeline. I know they are cookies so they don't human years but for the purposes of this rant/analysis, we will be using them.

So, if Custard Cookie the III is actually related to Pure Vanilla Cookie, then that means that the fall of the Pure Vanilla kingdom happened happened about 1 generation ago (because Custard III's grandfather was already grown and had a baby according to the memories seen in Timeless Kingdom)

(Picture: Premier Custard Cream Cookie holding Custard Cookie's father as a baby)

A generation is about 20-30 years but i am going to be very lenient and say Custard the III's father was 30 when he had his son and Custard III is 10. This would mean that it had been 40 years since the Vanilla Kingdom collapsed (and less than 40 years since the Dark Flour War ended. Wow.)

That means that the Creme Republic formed and established itself in less than 40 years (assuming they spent as year or two searching for a new home). While this is rather fast, it is technically possible for that to happen.

Except it's not? Kind of? This is where it gets funky.

In Crunchy Dreams, Oyster Cookie looks back on her memories from when she was a child. When her nanny told her about the mermaid and the young sailor. This is obviously about Lord Oyster and White/Black Pearl Cookie but the thing is that they mentioned that this event happened generations ago.

Assuming Elder just means parent (basing this of Custard and Clotted Cream). That means that Lord Oyster is at the bare minimum Oyster Cookie's great grandfather

Friendly Reminder thats Oyster Cookie is canonically 40-50 years old.

Okay thanks what the fudge (pun intended)

That's about century. A century.

"But, Sugaaaaaaaar, thats just a one time special event. It's not meant to be taken so seriously, and it's probably not even canon anymore."

Okay, then, I present to you Exhibit B. The most fresh evidence we got. "A Mermaid's Tale."

This is dialgue from Part 2 of the story of "A Mermaid's Tale" titled "Captain Abalone Cookie's Dilemma"

So, at this point the Republic was not only founded, but well established enough to have Family Houses and all that jazz. While not canon, i believe it's safe to assume that Lord Oyster is meant 20-30 years old because he is old enough to be on voyages but not old enough to be considered an Elder. Considering Oyster is 40-50 and the Republic was founded within 40 years, that means that Lord Oyster is Oyster's father, uncle, or older brother at best.

You se where it gets trippy? Lord Oyster's story is framed as if it was a thing in the past but for all we know this could have happened 2 summers ago or something like that

Nothing clashes with the timeline as much as the Creme Republic does. Dark Flour war ended 40 years ago? Understandable. Hollyberry has 2 young granddaughters, Dark Cacao has one grown son and Pure Vanilla has possibly one very young grandson? A little weird but not uncommon.

Did i miss something? Am i going insane for a game with cookie politics? Find out in the next episode of dragon ballz

[anonymocha]

Yes, I shall blr the tum, Mocha of Anonymous. I thank thee for defending my choice.

However, what dost being a nonbinary lesbian hath to do with anything?

SHORT ANSWER: Seeing their favorite nonbinary character kiss girls makes a nonbinary lesbian happy!!!

LONG ANSWER: The #medpoc_girlkissing_collection tag has everything to do with being a nonbinary lesbian, actually. More ramblings under cut. Long post ahead.

Imagine a nonbinary lesbian who repressed most of their tendencies throughout their childhood and teenhood. They live in a homophobic misogynist religious country and grew up surrounded by queer people who like men so they thought that they have to tone down their interest and passion towards women. It doesn't help that sapphic, let alone trixic representation and media were scarce or not taken seriously by the fandom.

That nonbinary lesbian thought of their lesbianism as filthy, predatory, and something to grow out of. It was not something to be proud of. It was not something to talk about. It was not something to make art with. It was something to be ashamed of.

That nonbinary dyke is almost 18. They found. Something. A game. With lots of girls in it. And sapphic subtext that you could barely call subtext anymore. It has women pining for one another, it has women who present themselves in a more masculine way and is illustrated to have sapphic relations, it has people of color, it has a NONBINARY CHARACTER (wow), and not only that, but the creators clearly put a lot of love into this game. You don't see this shit often??? And it??? Means a lot to me??? A game where sapphic relationships are even a pretty strong plot point in the game???

Okay, so let's get back to how there's a nonbinary character, right? Now let's look at the nonbinary lesbian again. What is that? Transneutral tendencies? The longing to be sexless? Okay. Let's look at the nonbinary character — said to have no reproductive organs. [THE CROWD CHEERS].

"Oh wow I want to be them," said the nonbinary lesbian, "I can make them lesbian."

[ THAT CHARACTER IS NOT A LESBIAN. AND LIKELY NEVER WILL BE IN CANON. ]

That statement is true. But here's the thing with the game... This is a gacha game, you can essentially play with these characters like dolls. Reality can be anything you want. Seeing the amount of subtext + text sapphic relationships in this game is like a "permission" to go lesbian overdrive and — make that enby kiss girls. Lots of them. And be freaky about it. To make ME happy.

The fandom certainly won't make them kiss girls but nobody can stop me and the repressed lesbianism throughout my teenhood. This character is weird, sometimes pathetic, but confident and owns up to their action. They want to pave their own path and that is such a positive influence for this was-ashamed-of-her-attraction-and-afraid-of-being-cringe dyke. They're a perfect candidate to project my version of queerness on. It also helps that they don't have a canon race (haha asian beam) and how we have a similar voice!!!

DRAWING THEM KISSING GIRLS IS SO AFFIRMING AND FUN!!! IT MAKES THIS NONBINARY DYKE HAPPY!!! DRAWING IT A LOT OF TIMES MAKES ME EVEN HAPPIER!!! ♡ I can do whatever I want. I own the place. And oh, if it isn't thrilling to see how much dyke bullshit I repressed over the course of years spill out spontaneously to this fucking game LMAO!!! It's euphoric, it's fun, it's weird, and it helps me mend my relationship with being a nonbinary lesbian ♡

So yeah. You can see that tag as a ritual for me to cope with being a nonbinary lesbian with the help of this awesome game. But it's also more like a celebration of my queerness and expression, in my own weird way. It makes me proud? Yeah. Yeah it does.

Have fun tumming the blr! And sorry if my answer is weird but I appreciate you asking this!

[kulemii]

^^ my past reblog/tags

if you're someone that has read and enjoyed my writing in the past and has come across the things i've reblogged and saw me talking like this and it bothered you, let me just say, if you've never spoken like this toward me or fellow writers then don't take offense to anything i've had to say. but these feelings are some that have built up over a long period of time.

when i tell you people are so, so very cruel and unfair to fandom writers (sure, they are to artists too but i'm talking about writers rn). they "consume" what we make, barely even offer out a thank you when they like it and DEMAND more. then, have the audacity to complain that it didn't cater to THEIR specific needs to the T??? do you understand how fucking frustrating it gets? do people not realize how much time and/or effort goes into writing xreader shit?

having to be mindful of everything all the time so that it's as relateable as it can be (within reason). not mentioning skintone, not mentioning hair, not mentioning weight, not mentioning eye color, trying to avoid mentions of height, anything that's a descriptor- you have to avoid that because you have no idea who's reading, unless you have a full personality reader and even then, you have to be careful of how much personality you give them because people will whine that they're not Like That.

Then, there's gender or sexuality, if you're not deadset on writing for one, another or other-- and god forbid you are because someone will be pissed that you aren't writing for them even though there's probably another writer that is (that could likely nail it better). Or say, you're just not great at writing from one perspective and not very confident but you'll still give it a shot because you want to make another demographic happy-- buuut you get something wrong and whoops🤗- you've pissed them off and now~ you suddenly HATE whatever group you just tried to appease! and wow, congratulations! you're -phobic or -ist of some kind~! 👏🏾

You also, have to be cautious of mentioning clothing because "I wouldn't fucking wear that." even though, "bitch me fucking neither" but sometimes, having your fem!reader wear a skirt is just more convienient for the scene.

before someone misconscrues what i'm saying, i'm not saying it's an issue to have to be aware of any of those things to be inclusive for my readers. Once I found what worked for me, I haven't had many issues but I've been mobbed before. I've seen fellow writers get mobbed. It's not fun. It's not fair and it's almost as if people are forgetting THE MOST IMPORTART PART OF ALL OF THIS:

WE'RE DOING THIS SHIT FOR FREE!

no one is paying us money. hell, you aren't even paying us in engagement these days. just demands.

i really wish those people who do all this bitching and whining- who I am certain are doing NO writing would shut the fuck up and butt out. because it getting frustrating as fuck. it's gotten me to the point where i really can't keep my mouth shut anymore.

and AGAIN, if you've read and appreciated any of my work, i appreciate you. you are not who this post is directed at. humbly, if it doesn't apply, let it fly.

[destiniesfic]

Folktober 02 — for @jurdannet/@jurdannetrevels. Jude was never taken to Faerie and grew up in blissful ignorance of the fair folk — mostly — until the night they tried to steal her twin sister away. (CW this chapter for drugging via faerie wine.)

Prev

“Bring her here,” says Cardan.

I am still squirming, but Valerian lifts me clean off my feet and carries me around the bonfire. Nobody cares about my shrieking, either, and despite my earlier threat we’re probably too far from the road for anyone else to hear. I try to make eye contact with the guitar player, but he stares through me, plucking at his strings.

Valerian deposits me at Cardan’s side, on the same soft red blanket he sprawls atop. I try to scramble away, but Valerian puts his hands on my shoulders and holds me in place with what seems like very little effort. Cardan doesn’t lift a finger this entire time, just watches me with his black hole eyes. He is obviously in charge here. Hadn’t Locke called him a prince?

“Look how frightened it is,” snickers Valerian. “Look how it trembles.”

It’s true: I am shaking, even though I desperately wish to stop. Being so near to them is terrifying. Up close, everything about Cardan is sharp and dangerous, nature’s way of saying “keep out!” He’s beautiful, too, but in the same way those tiny, brightly-colored frogs in the pages of the NatGeo magazine my parents got when we were kids are beautiful. Basically, touch at your peril.

“What are you going to do?” I ask him, trying to shake Valerian off without much success. “Are you going to eat me?”

The blue-haired girl, Nicasia, throws her head back and laughs. “You should be so lucky, mortal girl.”

Her companion, Locke, frowns. “You don’t mean to keep her as a pet, do you?”

“Balekin has plenty of moral pets,” Cardan says. “Surely he won’t begrudge me one of my own.”

I don’t like the sound of that.

“You have to let me go,” I tell him. “My parents will notice I’m gone by morning. They’ll worry. And Taryn— we have homework. And I’m waiting for my college applications to come in. And—”

“I don’t have to do anything.” He looks me over. His eyelashes are so long and thick that they cast fleeting shadows against his cheeks. “It’s a shame. You’re amusing like this, but too difficult to manage. Open your mouth.”

I blink. “What? Why?”

“You belong to me now, and you dare question my orders? Open your mouth or I’ll pry it open myself.”

Somehow, I get the sense that he’s showing off for his friends. I weigh what’s left of my dignity against my desire to make him struggle, and decide I should save up my defiance. I’ll need it.

God, I hope Taryn gets home safe.

I open my mouth, but only a little. I wonder if he’s going to kiss me. He’s so pretty that about ten percent of me almost wants it, which must be how they get you. At least the other ninety percent is keeping her head. If he kisses me, will I die? I wish I’d read more about faeries. I wish I paid more attention to my parents.

Cardan rests a beringed hand against my jaw. Then, before I can jerk my head away, he pours a little of his wine into my mouth.

I rear back, coughing. I can hear them all laughing now. Valerian lets go of me, and I wipe at my face, trying to sop up the wine that spilled from my lips. I know I swallowed some; it lingers, overly sweet, on my tongue.

“What was that?” I snap, but it doesn’t have the venom I’d like. I am already feeling lightheaded. What was that rule? Don’t eat or drink anything?

Oh no. No no no.

“It’s a revel,” Cardan explains. “A small one, but a revel still. And you were of no mind for revelry. A taste should be more than enough to remedy that. Tell me, how do you feel now?”

I blink a couple of times. I remember being afraid, but fear feels very far away now. Like I’ve woken from a nightmare. It lingers, but is quickly shaken off. In its place is just… ease. Elation. My body feels free. Even the aches from my last sword practice with dad in the backyard are gone.

“I feel great,” I say honestly, grinning at him. “Wow, your face is close.”

He grins back. “Better. I have much I would ask of you, mortal Jude. Why not come a little closer?”

I lean toward him. Maybe he’ll kiss me now. I don’t know why that was such a bad idea ten seconds ago. His mouth looks soft.

But instead of doing any such thing, Cardan slides two long fingers down my sweatshirt collar and pulls it aside. A brief look of triumph flashes across his face as he fishes out my string of dried rowan berries. “You do know something of our ways,” he murmurs, and I am pleased by his satisfaction. “Locke, what do you make of this?”

Locke moves as if to get up, but Nicasia shifts so that her head is on his lap. He peers across at us instead. “Were you sent by someone?”

I shake my head, bewildered.

“Who gave you the rowan berries?”

“My mom,” I say, smiling at him. There doesn’t seem to be any harm in saying it. Besides, I want to help these beautiful strangers. I want them to like me. “She says to always put them on when we’re venturing out. Taryn doesn’t wear hers anymore, though.”

“And there is the difference between you and your sister. I imagine you’ll have questions for your mother, should you see her again,” Cardan says. He slips the berries back down into my collar and gives my sternum a pat, as if tucking them in. I don’t bother to question why he phrases it like that.

“This is dull,” Valerian complains, sitting by the fire and making one of the hikers pour him more wine. “Are you going to tumble her or not?”

I let out a nervous giggle, because that hadn’t occurred to me, but why not? Wouldn’t it be fun? They’re all so pretty. Cardan’s eyes narrow, though. Apparently he doesn’t agree that it would be fun. “What, here? In the dirt? Certainly not.”

“What would be the appeal of cavorting with a mortal?” Nicasia asks loudly. “They’re such dirty, short-lived things.”

“Really?” There is something odd and tense in Cardan’s voice. I cock my head toward him, trying to pick it out. Like pulling a loose thread on a scarf. “What had you and Locke planned for the sister, then?”

Nicasia sputters, and Valerian laughs. The words wash over me. I barely mark them.

“It is said they have a certain earthy charm,” Locke remarks, unruffled as ever. “Although I myself would not know. Would you, Cardan? Your home is filled to the brim with mortals.”

“No,” Cardan says. Something has upset him. I rest my head on his shoulder, and he looks at me like he forgot I was there.

“I would know,” says Valerian, although no one asked him. “The charm is in reminding them where they belong. Beneath us.”

“Now, that is dull talk,” Cardan sighs. He drinks deeply from his goblet then flops back onto his cushions. “Come, Jude, lie back with me and we shall watch the stars until midnight.”

I do as I’m told. It’s nice, being close to him. His body is so warm, and I haven’t had the chance to just lie next to a boy before. Or anyone I wasn’t related to, really. Mom and Dad and Taryn and Vivi and I would pile onto the same couch to watch movies, back before Vivi went away to college, but of course that isn’t the same as this. There’s familial intimacy, and then there’s a night alive with possibility, and the body of someone pretty beside you.

I bury my face in Cardan’s shoulder. He smells sweet, like apple blossoms, like cinnamon on morning toast, like all the good things. “What happens at midnight?” I ask him. I don’t want this to ever end.

“Oh, Jude,” he says on another sigh. “At midnight, we go home.”

Next

---

Tagging people who said they wanted a part 2 (in comments or tags): @lilithsaur @highqueenofelfhame @fantasyfox101 @emeralddaydream13 @b00kworm @amandlas @gellavonhamster If you want to be tagged in future posts, let me know!

[talkfastcal]

i just read your tags on that doll post and now im over here like "did i even have an imagination growing up? do i even have an ounce of creativity in my body?" like i can barely even come up with names for my new stuffed animals let alone assign them whole emojis and personalities :(

Omg ikr. Like I just made a post talking about watching content teens/young adults made with their dolls on YouTube. I go back and watch those and think “wow….I really could’ve done some creative things” I will say when I did make videos of my dolls (this was when I was 12/13. I don’t make content with my actual collection now), they would usually consist of “morning routines” or even “my dolls being silly and dancing!” It was never to a full on storyline and plot.

Same thing goes for littlest pet shops, the storylines people came up with for lps back in the day was WILD. I remember getting inspiration for my own storylines from those videos.

Something I’ve personally noticed from my own time playing with dolls, when I was in early elementary school, I remember being a “daycare provider” and I would use my bitty twins as the babies in my care while my best friend would pretend to be their mom. As I grew out of that phase and started playing with littlest pet shops, I grew out of the “play family” and more into the storyline phase. I would always play something school/drama related and I would get inspiration from a YouTube series called “LPS Popular” (I’m not joking I still watch this because that DAMN SEASON FINALE was so good). Going back to what I was saying about when I did make videos as preteen, it was mainly morning routines because that’s what I would watch on YouTube at the time.

As a 22 year old american girl doll collector now, I don’t “play” with my dolls anymore however, I still dress them up in seasonal clothing/historically accurate (if it’s my historicals). I still enjoy buying and collecting items from their collections/retired pieces I’ve always wanted, and I still enjoy giving them their own personalities. I think the big thing for me about my doll collection is the fact that I never got to have the dream collection I wanted growing up so now I’m reliving my (bad) childhood as an adult again through my doll collection except without the bad part ofc lol. I’ve told my mom this but after the worst year in my life (2015) was over and I started getting my life back on track, I realized I wanted to collect dolls again. October 2016 was when I officially got back into collecting and I’ve been collecting since.

[barisiscourtroom]

After 22x10, I, as so many others, quickly decided that it was Rafael on the phone (Sonny even wore his tie!), so I wrote an episode related thing. I’m ace myself, and I like the idea of ace!Sonny, and I hc them both as gay (strangely enough, since I tend to always hc everyone as bi, but not Barisi for some reason), so this is my take on what could happen after that episode.

Once again a huge thank you to @novemberhush for the beta read and for answering all my questions and helping me make this better! ♥

A Call to Come Out ao3

1559 words | Teen warnings: mentions internalized homophobia characters: Sonny Carisi, Rafael Barba, Amanda Rollins tags: Sonny Carisi & Amanda Rollins friendship, Episode Related, Post-Episode: 22x10 Welcome to the Pedo Motel, Established Relationship, Asexual Sonny, Gay Sonny, Gay Rafael, Coming Out, Internalized Homophobia

Sonny accepted the call with an apologetic smile to Rafael. "Amanda," he said both in greeting and to let Rafael know who it was. He got up from the couch to head towards the kitchen. "How is everything?"

"Hey, Sonny, I don’t really want to talk about it, I just wanted to hear a friendly voice," Amanda said, making Sonny smile.

"Okay, I can do that," he said.

"You were about to tell me something when I got the call," Amanda said.

Sonny remembered that all too well. His awkwardness as he tried to speak still embarrassed him. "Yeah," he said.

"Tell me now? It was about that hot date of yours, wasn’t it?" Amanda said, her voice teasing.

"Yeah, it was, and, uh, about me." He took a deep breath and looked at Rafael, who was still sitting on the couch, doing something on his phone. He must have sensed Sonny watching him, because he turned to give him a reassuring smile and a nod. Sonny nodded back and spoke, "I’m gay."

"I, uh. Okay," Amanda said.

"I’m also asexual, apparently," Sonny said.

"What, uh, I don’t know what that means?" Amanda said.

"It means I don’t feel sexual attraction to anyone, and for me, it also means that I… don’t really want sex," Sonny said quietly. Rafael had told him that it was no one's business but his, that he didn’t have to tell anyone if he didn’t want to, and Sonny knew that was true, but he wanted to tell Amanda, she was his best friend. Second best friend, but Rafael was also his partner, so he wasn’t sure he should count him.

"Okay," Amanda said slowly. Sonny wished he could see her, so he could read her silences.

"But, uh, yeah, so I have a… we don’t really like the term boyfriend, I mean, we’re both over 40, we’re not exactly boys anymore, so I guess I have a partner," Sonny said.

Amanda huffed a soft laugh. "Okay, well, that’s nice though, congratulations, I’m happy for you," she said, and Sonny breathed out in relief. Which she obviously heard. "Aw, hey, come on."

"Sorry," Sonny hurried out, "it’s just that you’re, well, you’re the first person I’ve told, except, uh-"

"Your hot date?" Amanda teased, and it was Sonny’s turn to huff a little laugh.

"Yeah, except my hot date," he said. "And you’re important to me, it’s… really scary and you’re my best friend, and it’s terrifying, especially considering our history, and I don’t want to hurt you."

"Oh," Amanda said.

Sonny pulled a kitchen chair out to sit, putting his elbows on the table and his hand over his eyes. "I didn’t - I guess I thought my feelings for you back then were romantic, because I love you and you mean the world to me, and because I… well, I guess I didn’t want to accept being gay, and I didn’t know then that I don’t feel sexual attraction, I just thought that’s how everyone felt, so when I have felt the way that I feel about you before, I’ve thought it was normal, that I’ve been in love, because even if I always felt… differently about men, I just pushed that down and ignored it, you know?"

His heart was beating hard in his chest, his throat tight, and he very nearly begged her to know what he meant, to understand, because he didn’t want to hurt her, he needed her to be his friend.

"I…" Amanda started slowly, quietly, and Sonny squeezed his eyes shut, his breath shallow. "I don’t know, I guess, because I do feel sexual attraction, so I don’t think I can ever understand, not really, but… I think I understand what you mean."

"Yeah?" Sonny rasped.

"Yeah, of course," Amanda said. Her voice was a little rough, like she was holding back tears too, and Sonny pressed his thumb and index finger against his eyelids. "So, you want to tell me about your partner?"

The forced cheer in her voice was fairly obvious, but she was trying, so Sonny would too.

"It’s, uh, well, he has said it’s okay to tell you who he is, but you gotta promise you won’t make fun of me, okay?" Sonny asked.

"Cross my heart and hope to die," Amanda said, mock serious, and Sonny huffed another laugh and rubbed his eyes before lowering his hand.

"Rafael Barba," he said, and just saying his name had Sonny smiling.

"Rafael Barba," Amanda repeated faintly.

"Yeah," Sonny said.

"And you made me promise not to make fun of you, Sonny, you’re the worst," Amanda said.

Sonny grinned. "Well, I do know you, and I’m not as stupid as everyone thinks, you know," he said.

"Rafael Barba," Amanda said. "Sonny Carisi and Rafael Barba. Holy crap."

"Yeah, yeah," Sonny said, rolling his eyes.

"Okay, tell me everything," Amanda said. "I mean, I know how you met, but how did you meet, you know?"

"I mean, looking back at it, I think that I was in love with him the whole time, but I told myself I just admired him, you know. Then, when he left, our relationship changed, we started talking about other things than work and law, mostly by text at first, or if we met up for drinks or something, then one day we came to talk about religion and homosexuality, and I sorta accidentally came out to him. I panicked, Amanda, really, it was bad, but he’s gay and grew up Catholic, he handled it really well, and he helped me a lot and made me see that I can be both.

"Then, during the trial, we met a lot more than usual. I mean we barely met every other month before, not even that often during last year with the virus and all, but over the trial I saw him every day and my feelings became very clear to me, it was so obvious, I don’t know how I could have ever convinced myself it wasn’t there. So I told myself I’d tell him once the trial was over, if nothing else just to admit that I had feelings for a man, but he beat me to it and asked me on a date before I could," Sonny said.

"Rafael Barba asked you on a date," Amanda said.

Sonny grinned, he knew he probably looked love-struck and stupid, but Rafael Barba had asked him on a date, he was allowed. "Yeah, he did. He said he’d been flirting with me for years, called me dense for not noticing," he said, smiling at the memory.

"God, you sound so in love, wow, I didn’t know you-" Amanda abruptly stopped herself, but she quickly continued, "You sound happy, Sonny, and I really am happy for you."

"Thanks, Amanda, that means a lot to me," Sonny said.

They talked for nearly 20 minutes, mostly about him and Rafael, about their dates and about their long conversations, both before and after the trial, about how Rafael had been the one to explain asexuality to Sonny and how it felt realizing he was asexual, about how supportive Rafael had been while Sonny learned to understand himself in relation to most other people. They talked until Amanda realized that Sonny was at Rafael’s place.

"Why are you talking to me then?" she asked.

"Because you’re my friend, Amanda," Sonny said.

"And I love you for that, but go be with your man," Amanda said.

"Are you okay?" Sonny asked.

"Yeah, it helped to talk for a bit, thanks, Sonny. I’ll tell you more later, I just… really don’t want to talk about it right now," Amanda said.

"Okay, I’m here if you need me," Sonny said.

"I know. We’ll talk soon, okay?" Amanda said.

"Yeah, talk soon, take care," Sonny said.

"Say hi to Barba," Amanda said, and Sonny swore he could hear her grin.

"I will, and I’m sure he says hi back," he said as flatly as he could manage. It made Amanda huff out a little laugh though, so he considered it a success.

"Bye, Sonny," she said.

"Bye, Amanda," he said.

He tapped the phone to end the call, then he got up and put the chair back before going back to the living room to sit next to Rafael again.

"How’d it go?" Rafael asked softly.

"Good, I think," Sonny said. "She says hi, and she said she was happy for me."

"Good," Rafael said, leaning back against the couch and wrapping an arm around Sonny’s shoulders to tug him closer.

"I said you’d say hi back," Sonny said, tilting his head to smile at Rafael, who rolled his eyes.

"Say hi back," he said dryly, but then his face softened, and he smiled as he leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of Sonny’s mouth. "I’m glad it went well, I know how important she is to you and I know how scary it can be. I’m proud of you."

"I couldn’t have done it without you," Sonny said, because it was true.

"I don’t believe that for a second, but I’m glad I could help at all," Rafael said. "Do you want to stay tonight?"

Sonny sighed and settled in more comfortably, his head tucked into the crook of Rafael’s neck. "Yeah, I’d like that," he said.

[capricornus-rex]

Stronger Than Blood (6)

Chapter 6: Lines Are Drawn | Cal Kestis x Reader

Requested by Anon

Summary: Meeting another Force-sensitive was one thing, but having them related to one of the most formidable known duelers was a whole other story to tell. While being stranded in another planet after barely escaping the Haxion Brood, Cal crosses paths with someone who’s at a crossroads with their own identity and lineage.

A/N: Wow, progress is a little slow now. I’m slightly bummed for some odd reason. With the chaos ensuing anywhere in the world, I’m also affected, one way or another. Given that I’ve come back to my work, the good thing is my company has shortened the work hours, though traffic is still a bitch. I’m beginning to see the new pattern to my work-life balance here. I’ve learned that coffee at night while writing gives me a boost of energy to keep writing. But I’m glad you guys are still looking at my stuff, even if only a few of you stop by every now and then. 💞💞💕💕 You guys have no idea how much it means a whole lot to me, the same way you guys matter. The world’s gone fucked, I hope you guys are safe, wherever you are. 🥺😪💝💖

Also tagging: @ayamenimthiriel​

Also posted in AO3

Tags: Force-User! Reader, Force-Sensitive Reader, Sith-Related! Reader

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 | Previous: Part 5 | Next: Part 7 | Masterlist

6 of ?

7 YEARS AGO, BEFORE THE JEDI PURGE

Serenno.

You were only a week shy from being ten years old.

You’ve lived a comfortable childhood. Back then, you didn’t understand the vastness of the family manor—it was so vast that it might have been identical to the palaces in Naboo, but of course in the eyes of a child. The only thing that ran in your mind was the games you’d play in the gardens or the foyer, running around and playing house all with your dolls.

Your parents were perhaps the kindest people you’ve known, especially your mother, Jezria. But there were times that the anger in her voice scared you—even if those harsh, loud words were never meant for you in the first place.

They were for that man, with a snowy white head of hair and a bearded face atop a black ensemble, who comes by your house every once in a while. The only thing that stood out in your eye was the expensive silver chain that clasped the cape behind his back.

“So, you’ve come here again,” Jezria growled as she descended the stairs, greeting the guest rather coldly compared to the welcoming vibe that she usually gives off during gatherings. The skirt of her dress billowed over the marble steps, as her manicured fingers slid down the glossed wooden bannister, complementing her regal yet fierce demeanor.

As soon as Jezria’s heels touched the smooth floor, she took you under her arm, shielding you from the visitor’s sight albeit being quite a futile effort.

“Mommy, who is he?” you muttered.

The man’s head tilted downward, proving that he’d heard you. His serious eyes made you hide away behind your mother’s skirt, leaving only a peep at the corner of your eye.

“So, you haven’t told your daughter of her own uncle,” his voice was baritone and spoke in an aristocratic, firm accent. He shakes his head. “Is that how much you hate me, Jezria?”

“Because her life is better without knowing who you are to her!!”

“Foolish woman! Do you think altering your surname into “Moorken” changes anything!? You can change your name, your face, but never your blood!” he bellowed back, cutting the air with a swift sweep of his arm. “You don’t know what your own child is capable of! Only my master and I know the true potential of her power. No matter how many times you deny it, my sister, [y/n] will always have the eyes of Darth Sidious.”

“Whoever he is… No, frankly I don’t give a damn who he is!” Jezria’s teeth were clenched so tightly that her words nearly incoherent. “He will not touch my [y/n]!”

“Underestimating him may not be the wisest thing you’ll ever do, Jezria. And as far as I know you are an intelligent woman.”

With one step forward from your supposed uncle, Jezria—with you still hiding behind her hip—takes one step back away from her brother. Your mother further shielded you with the wide sleeve that dangled from her slender arm, almost veiling you from the eyes of her brother.

“Leave my home, you Separatist parasite! And if you come for [y/n] to try and take her from me, you will never hear the end of me, my dear brother.” she snarled, a true dragon-lady baring her teeth.

The visitor’s beard quivered as he harrumphed, his eyebrows furrowed so much that wrinkles formed across his forehead and the bags under his eyes became more prominent. He strode the grand aisle of the vast foyer, the hem of his cape swept the marble as he departed until he disappeared from the hollow thud of the great doors.

Jezria had kept her ferocious façade on until her brother was gone. Finally, with the dying echo of the door’s thud, her shoulders relaxed and her lungs loosened, but her hand never removed you from her embrace. You repeated the question, hoping that she would answer.

Having no choice, she sighed and melted to her knees, levelling herself to you.

“Darling, you heard him…” she sighed, quite disappointingly at the fact that you’re related to that visitor.

“My uncle? You never told me much about him, mom.”

“I know, dear, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you soon enough,” she gulped. “But… I’ll explain it to you later. I hope that one day you’ll understand.”

Understanding that her ten-year-old daughter had no full grasp of the concept that she and her brother were fighting about, the least she could do was simplify it; and while her elder brother departed their home, Jezria had already concocted a plan for her family.

——————————————————–

“No, you have no right!!” your mother roared.

“I told you it would come to this!” your uncle rebutted.

The same exchange occurred just a few days turning ten years old. You may not have understood it, but it’s as if this man has timed the exact moment where he would have to cause another commotion in your household. Only this time, it has become more physical than the first time—you watched your mother attempt to push your uncle farther away from reaching the staircase, where you’re perched by the railings. Using his forearm as a shield to fight off Jezria’s pushing, he shoved her away as they went verbally ballistic against one another.

“And I told you that you won’t get anywhere near [y/n]!”

“Then I have no choice, Jezria, I will do what I must!”

He pushed her away to give himself some space. Jezria had the foresight that her brother would reach for his weapon—a curved black hilt strapped to his brown leather belt—and she beat him to it. A sleek, silver blaster—a streak of white shine underneath the chandelier light gleamed and adorned the body and barrel—pressed cold against the forehead of her brother.

The drawing of their weapons made you shift from where you perched in full view of them downstairs.

“I will put a hole between your eyes if you even do so much as touch your weapon with your finger,” Jezria snarled, her thumb flicking the safety.

“Are you really challenging me, dear sister?”

“If that’s what it takes, Count.” She firmly said, hinting sarcasm on his title, albeit her voice shuddering.

Your uncle sensed the trembling of her hands, he could feel it from the slight twitching of the barrel against the flesh of his forehead; an arrogant smirk popped out of his snowy beard, he slowly lured his hand away from his weapon, but Jezria knows full well that he’s not yet done with this charade.

“Leave. My. Home.”

Her finger hovered just a hair strand’s length away from the trigger.

Silence. A single heave of breath lifted the man’s broad shoulders.

“NOW!!!”

“This is not over, Jezria. Not until my master has what he wants!”

The Count—as your mother addressed him—backed away slowly until the barrel isn’t touching his head anymore. Again, as he turned tail, his maroon cape swooshed and billowed in the stale air which his heated exchange with his sister remained with. For the first time, you saw that he—in a way—was similar to you: with a single wave of his hand, the door opened at his whim, and he didn’t even lay a finger on the shiny doorknobs!

You’ve had such experience before: making things move at your whim without having the need to touch them. Your mother educated you what she knows—but her brother’s knowledge towers over hers, it didn’t matter, she only told you what you needed to know about the unseen entity they call the Force.

His presence always gave you anxiety, although you couldn’t help but stand witness to the ballistic trade of words between him and your mother. It felt like you were unfurling a family mystery all on your own, and to some extent, you were—but you never imagined it to be like this. As a child, you always had the precedent that whatever adults say are true—and your uncle’s words haunted you ever since he stepped through the front door.

He’s going to take me?

Will I ever see Mommy and Papa if he brings me with him?

Who is the other man they were talking about?

These were the questions that troubled you at night, until they have bothered you to exhaustion that you slept on them and worried about them in the next.

That next evening, the Count didn’t think of paying another visit, but this worried Jezria to a tee. Prior today, she had already put her plan into play: her husband already went ahead, disappearing from the gargantuan family manor to secure a safe route for your escape to the next planet, as she made herself busy getting changed and packing her bags, as well as yours.

Not meaning to disturb you or scare you—even though you’re already the latter—she barged into your bedroom. You were already instructed to get changed as well; and so you’ve been waiting for your mother’s signal to leave. The moment she popped her head into the space of the door she opened, you hopped out of your bed and took her hand.

“Keep up with me, darling!” she whispered, keeping her breath low in the dark.

“Where are we going?”

“To the ship, we’re going someplace far away from here… where he can’t take you,”

Perhaps Jezria’s constant underestimation of her brother—and indirectly the so-called master he always referred to—was her undoing, despite her best intentions of keeping her family safe.

Of course, she did not have that foresight or realization. What only mattered to Jezria weren’t the threats but her husband and daughter and that they were together—carefree and perfect, before her brother’s ugly head poked itself through her doorstep.

Mother and child boarded a shuttle. Jezria alone piloted the ship, prepped it and took off, while you sat buckled up in the co-pilot seat, observing her graceful fingers fluidly dancing across the dashboard controls; beeps chimed into your ears that it was nearly nauseating, the twinkling of the screens blinded you and made you see double, until the rumble of the ship hovering from the ground caused you to sink into your seat.

“Hold tight, dear,”

“Okay, Mom,” you said, ever so obediently.

This was actually your very first time to see the outside of Serenno. You were educated about the different planets and systems from your tutors, but everything you’ve learned about them failed to slam you with the celestial-scale oomph right in the face when you saw the endless sheet of black riddled with stars.

The sight was breathtaking, the neighboring planets’ sizes in a little ten-year-old’s eyes were simply impossible to fathom. Jezria relished the sight of your innocent smile, the fascination twinkling in your eyes, and the gaping smile that remained as your head spanned only a fraction of the galaxy. She hoped that she’d live to see that face again once the family has established a peaceful life, away from the eyes of the Count.

Jezria was finally able to relax and breathe easy as she cruised the shuttle through space. For once, the silence was comforting, she would banter with you, make little guessing games about the planets the shuttle has passed by or what system you could be in.

“Can you name at least another planet in the same space region?” your mother quizzed.

“Well, since home is in the Outer Rim, then another Outer Rim planet could be… Felucia!”

“That’s right, Felucia is also in the Outer Rim Territories!” your mother beamed. “You sure kept your lessons to heart.”

That smooth sailing was interrupted in the blink of an eye when another ship from behind has opened fire, damaging the stern of the shuttle. The screens flashed erratically while Jezria desperately multitasked in stabilizing the ship while taking damage.

“Mom!” you shrieked, tongue-tied and terrified that you were mute for a second.

“It’s okay, [y/n]! It’s going to be okay!”

From the graceful dancing of fingers that you saw moments ago, your mother’s arms flailed in all directions trying to stabilize the ship while being tailed and fired at the ship.

“An assassin, of course!” she growled under her breath.

“What’s going on!?”

“We’re being tailed. Hold on, [y/n]! Whatever happens, just hold on!”

You continued to observe your mother throwing her hands to all sides, attempting to keep the ship flying. The center screen, the widest in the dashboard, flashed a bright orange while projecting the cross-section view of the engines. Whatever button Jezria presses, the orange on the screen never disappeared, rather it gradually turned red to emphasize the severity of the damage.

Suddenly, she could no longer steer the ship forward. The shuttle had been caught into a tractor beam for boarding. A brief thud shook the ship. The magnetic field of the beam has already taken hold of your shuttle.

There’s nothing much she can do right now.

She hopped out of her seat and took you out of yours as well. In her burst of adrenaline, she was able to carry your entirely—the same way she has cradled you as a toddler—to the escape pods. The banging against the door pounded at the same time your heart beats. The assassin has boarded the ship. A single unit can only fit one person, and there were two; before shutting the pod, she cupped your face so that you heed her well.

“[y/n], listen to me. You’re safe in this escape pod, the coordinates have already been entered in the controls. I’ll go in the second pod. And we’ll go see Papa together, okay?”

At face value, you understood well enough that you’re being separated from your mother. You began to choke while fighting back tears, never have you ever clutched your mother’s arm, and the fright was too great for you to bear alone. You weren’t even sure if you’d keep up with her in your own escape pod.

“Mom, please don’t leave me,” you cracked.

“I won’t, darling,” she kissed your forehead. Another bang from the door. “You know what to do, don’t you? I taught you this, remember?”

You nodded nervously, suddenly unconfident, but the lessons were still intact.

“You will be alright,” she removed her necklace and wore it around your neck. She pulled you in the tightest embrace she has ever given you, it was almost suffocating but you didn’t care. “I love you, darling. Oh my baby. My baby [y/n].”

You could hear her sobbing. It took a lot of her willpower to pull away, you sensed it that much. Just when she was about to board her own pod, the assassin had already broken down the door and attacked your mother. By sheer instinct, she slammed the eject button with her fist—but only for your escape pod.

“NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!” you screeched at the top of your lungs, the fiberglass window muffling the full volume of your cries. Your tiny fist pounded the door but it was too thick. From that small circular window that only occupied the whole of your face, you watched your mother defend herself against the assassin.

The assailant was fully covered from helmet to boot. Not even a peek of the eyes through the visor. Jezria and the assassin traded strikes with their vibroblades. You were so caught up with crying for your mother that you didn’t feel the loss of gravity around your escape pod. As the vessel throttles minutes later after ejection and drifts away into space, the less you saw of your mother. You continued to shriek through the door, unable to realize that there’s nothing much you could do except repeat the words “No” and “Mom.”

Farther away, you had full view of the shuttle, but no better view of Jezria. The next moment, the shuttle burst into flames. It felt like time had frozen itself, cruelly forcing you watch it for as long as the galaxy could take. Orange and red coated the original color of your irises, you held your breath even though you still had enough oxygen, you couldn’t take your eyes off of the destruction.

Your mother was in there.

You didn’t see the second escape pod be jettisoned. It never did.

You know the words, you just don’t have the strength to utter it through your mouth or your mind.

You’re now alone, stuck in the middle of space in a claustrophobic vessel that well may be your casket. Just when you were close to sulk on the floor and give up, the temperature around the pod flared, the turbulence rattled the pod so strongly that you practically shook with it.

Luckily, dejection still hasn’t devoured you fully. You followed the safety protocols of the escape pod from entering the atmosphere until you’ve landed and touched a planet’s surface. You buckled up, remembering what your mother taught you; upon realizing that your mother never entered any coordinates and just jettisoned your pod to safety before the assassin could reach you, now you could never reunite with your father as well, the only thing left to do is try to land the pod as daintily as you can.

“I hope this works…!” you groaned as you parroted the same dexterity your mother possessed when manning the ship.

The escape pod had a rough landing, but following the procedure greatly factored in your survival. You emerge out of the crash, bruised and dirtied, you gathered what you can from the wreckage and hiked your way to nowhere. With every step, you attempt to register every single thing has transpired. You may only be ten years old, but you were able to put the pieces together and assume the worst.

It was your uncle. No doubt about it.

“Now he’s done it,” you snarled, the searing heat of the sun burned along with the rage that colored your cheeks.

You decided to stick with that, overlooking one crucial question: can you prove it?

It all seemed hopeless. You’ve been wandering around in this temperate planet for hours now with little supplies. You’ve fought off the temptation of rummaging your bag for rations, you’re too famished to even think about conserving them.

That is until you met a kindly Iktotchi, the same Iktotchi who will foster you in the next few years into the woman you’ve grown to be now.

[icharchivist]

tmi about myself i guess but it’s in regard to my previous post 

I relate to quite a few a3 chara for very various and different reasons and while there are charas i relate to more than others it’s not a 1:1 thing

but also sometimes i just. Like. I didn’t think about why this story hit me as hard as it did until just now having to word it.

My eldest sister ran away from home when i was 6 (and she was 16) never to be seen again and this kinda shapped up a lot, if not most of my life, it’s like, my biggest trauma in a sea of trauma and i don’t think i can properly word how this sort of things affects young children and a whole family dynamic.

Madoka saying that, in substance, he thought Misumi was dead suddenly hit super hard because my whole life this whole topic was extremely taboo to even mention and me and my other sister had to pretend we never had an eldest sister. Like she never existed.

because our parents were so worried about their images and the rumors that came out around the reasons of her departs that she didn’t trust us, as kids, to talk about it, so we just had to never say a word and never bring it up except if my mom was having a mental breakdown about it in which case i had to listen to her (since the relationship with my other sister got, strained with time. Leaving it at that.)

I’ve always equated my feelings toward her to what it felt like to always have a lingering ghost around. I barely even remember her and if i dig things hurt more than they should. I have the stories my family used to say but none of this connects with me. But i know i loved her so dearly and her leaving left such a.. hole we were supposed to never address that it was haunting. I’ve only recently realized that probably a huge part of me was just grieving all that time because i could never properly word what it’s like to lose someone who’s still very much alive, and whom you have to think about regularly “wonders where she’s at now” while also feeling it’s not your business anymore.

The thing is that i was 6, but my parents didn’t actually tell me she ran off until the year after - before that i thought she was staying at my grandma’s place for an undefined amount of time. Then they started opening up more about it after they divorced when i was 12 and both parents had really conflicting version of events that i had a hard time puzzling together, but both blamed her for leaving anyway.

and it’s only when i was 23 or so that i managed to dig back the lawsuit files that ensued her running away (very long story) and found a lot of damning evidence of my parent’s lies and the reasons why she left and why she was 100% right for leaving. 

This was almost hysterical to me. I remember reading it with friends and spending the whole day laughing bitterly because my parents are goddamn liars who built her up as the bad guy for basically just escaping their abuse. (some of which are things they put on me too, reading some of the papers in that file was like reading my mails sometimes.). I can’t even tell how awful it was to read up all the ways they’ve hurt her while they spent years and years telling me she was all to blame all while i was suffering the consequences of her leaving. 

Not to mention i’ve spent my whole life, everytime i had a fight with my parents, hearing thrown at my face “what are you going to do, run away too? and hurt us like she did?” and so i ended up terrified of talking back hearing that all the time, so scared to cause the very hurt i had been unable to heal from all that time, and it kept me in this abusive family trying to fix their messes because of that lasting trauma.

I’ve cut ties with my dad about 6 years ago (though it’s not that easy and all, he’s still currently suing me after all lmao (next month should be the end of that lawsuit fucking finally)) so i know more than ever how my sister may have felt and it’s just. a lot. It’s a lot to have had spent your life having to think badly of her only for this.

And, (cw a//bleism) back to why it hit just now too is the fact that, I kinda read Misumi as a/utistic coded and it just sort of hit me in the face because a lot of the abuse my sister got was because she was a/utistic and my parents constantly threw it at her face and weaponized her to create a horrible environment. One of my most ancient yet vivid memory is me as a very very young child having my father using this word as an insult for stupid on me until i fought back going that i could never be something this awful /to my sister’s face/, making me /part/ of their twisted ways to hurt her. And i’ve remembered that *years* after with horror and the knowledge i will never be able to fix it.

I didn’t *think* about it in regard of that storyline until just now and now i’m shaking with anger and fury that i can’t possibly word properly. 

On the other hand man i liked Madoka just fine on my first read but the way i’m feeling right now is sure. wow. I’ll keep my eyes out on him in act 3 i guess. 

and i guess i have now specific headcanons about the way this fucking stupid family treated it all and i don’t think that’s a win actually. Kinda hating it here;

anyway i’m shaking with rage this awoke something very deep in me and this is. making me so so upset.

i’ve been dancing around this subject for a long while talking about a3 (because yeah there’s *reasons* why Azuma’s way to push people away because of his intense grief talks to me this hard. There’s reason Hisoka, the youngest of three siblings who’s eldest is gone and the second one had a strained relationship with him, and who can’t even remember what happened to lead to that, has affected me the way it did. Or why every characters who have been neglected by their parents are giving me a viseral reaction of wanting to take care of them.) because i really don’t know how much i can open up about those stuff now online.

I used to talk about my problems a bit more before but despite trying to not tag my a3 ramblings so i could talk more about it personally, i did end up getting people to follow my liveblog and suddenly it was awkward to bring that up again (even if i think most of my older followers know all of what i just said already)

so huh this is very awkward and it’s been a while i’ve been just shafting my tmi posts in my drafts but this one is the breaking point because i didn’t see coming the amount of rage the “clicking” of what made this storyline such a hard one to read would do to me.

i’m shaking with rage wow i didn’t see that one coming.

[smartguyreviewed]

2x5 - Dumbstruck

Original air date:  October 8, 1997

Yay, an episode where TJ is actually acting like a kid! And also an excuse for me to rant about how much I despise group projects.

A very over it Lisa Simpson (played by Yeardley Smith) is handing back tests to her dumb ass students save for TJ and this annoying white kid named Clark that we’ll be introduced to briefly because Mackey ended up being the lead token white on this show, right next to Yvette’s cute friend Nina.

Clark asks how TJ did. He humble brags and Marcus snatches his test to gloat about his brother finally not doing well at something. Sike! TJ got a 110 on his assignment. Marcus is dumbfounded since he clearly doesn’t even put in the bare minimum. 

Lisa has to remind Marcus that demonstrating how you actually studied will get you more points. She gives her lazy, remedial students a chance to make up for their piteous attempts with a makeup assignment, an oral group report on WW2. Now everyone is mad at TJ because he fucked up the curve of the grading system, facilitating the need for a makeup assignment. Mackey is pissed.

Marcus and Mo of course decide to stick all the work on TJ while they go to Dawgburger. TJ, now wanting to fit in with his cool brother and bestie, agrees but is promptly thrown into a garbage can by Mackey and his 30 year old goon when they give him shit for being smart. Because the plot calls for it in this episode, TJ isn’t masterminding a plan to put fudged up charges on Mackey’s record or flunk him out of school forever.��

At the Henderson crib, TJ is attempting to do the assignment but the boys are watching The Three Stooges with non-copyright stock sound effects and can’t be bothered to lower the volume. Even Floyd stops scolding Marcus and Mo to join them. Apparently, TJ thinks being a genius and being entertained by slapstick are mutually exclusive.

Yvette is in the kitchen frowning at her fruitless yogurt when TJ comes in to whine about feeling left out. Yvette, as usual, is there to provide motherly advice and reassure TJ that he’s too brilliant to relate to simpleton humor. She even suggests that he’ll be the only non crooked black politician on the Supreme Court. Aww. TJ will revenge porn her in the future.

Just then, a truck pulls in with daddy Floyd’s wood--hehe--and the boys, including Mo, gather in the garage to bring in Floyd’s wood--last time, I promise--to wherever it needs to go.

Yvette comes in after the gang delegates how the work flow will commence and then commands the plot for the episode when she tells TJ his shoe is untied while Mo and Marcus are handing boards to each other. This ended well.

After passing out, Marcus, who is terrifyingly not alarmed, just calls for Floyd and then we end up at the hospital where it seems that TJ’s relatively light board smack has now rendered him dumb. Not only dumb but more childish than usual.

Marcus cares nothing about TJ’s prognosis, however, because he is a horny teenage boy and the doc is hot. Yvette has to literally drag him out of the room by his ear.

The doctor tells Floyd that this strange concussion could leave TJ acting like this for weeks. Of course Floyd is concerned since TJ is gifted. The next morning, TJ is so forgetful and delayed at breakfast that Floyd and Yvette have to play charades to help him navigate feeding himself.

Marcus comes in and asks if TJ is back to normal because he doesn’t want to do anything that makes him use his own damn brain for a change. After Flody sees this because Marcus did it right in the kitchen where he was about three feet away, he of course takes Marcus aside to tell him to quit badgering TJ to get well again.

At school, Mo thinks it’s a good idea to simply undo TJ’s problem by hitting him in the head again. Since we’re working off corny sitcom logic, he’s not exactly off base here. I mean, it did only take two light hits from a wooden board to turn TJ into an imbecile so why not do the same to get him back to normal, right?

During class, TJ is wowing everyone with his diminished IQ that was announced to everyone in the class for some reason. Eh, it’s Piedmont so I really shouldn’t be surprised that all of his business is out there.

Lisa is pissed because now that TJ is dumb and she hates Clark for some reason, teaching will be damn near impossible because nobody participates. I think I feel her pain because she asks a super easy question (what naval base did the Japanese attack) and nobody but annoying ass Clark answers. Poor thing. She probably came into this profession bright-eyed and bushy tailed, ready to change students’ lives and become the next Erin Gruwell but ended up becoming nothing more than a de facto babysitter.

TJ is taking advantage of being one of the guys by making fun of the more deadly effects of dropping bombs and says it led to radioactive monsters. The boys laugh but Lisa is aggy that nobody is taking this seriously. To spite her idiot students, she makes the reports worth half of their grade. Mackey blames Clark instead of the teacher who literally just assigned it. For some reason, this tickles Clark even though he’s going to end up in the garbage soon.

Since TJ is one of the guys again, he manages to tag along with the crew at Dawgburger, a place he wasn’t invited to earlier since he was going to do their group assignment all by himself. In hindsight, I hated group projects because I did all of the work anyways since my cohorts were dumb as rock boxes, so this wouldn’t have bothered me at all. Abolish group projects!

Post Dawgburger, TJ is in bed reading a comic and shooting the shit with Marcus. This is sweet. I like seeing siblings bond on TV shows because the regular narrative always seems to involve them all hating each other. Here, there’s no drama, just Marcus actually being responsible because he’s studying for the oral report and TJ, in what would be his natural state if he weren’t a genius. They even have a heart to heart when TJ asks if he’ll be okay and what would happen once he’s back to normal. Marcus says he’ll still stick up for him. Aww.

In geometry the next day, TJ’s intelligence just comes right back after he flawlessly recites the Pythagorean theorem when the dorky teacher asks. Once he realizes this, and after having probably the few easiest days in a while, TJ understandably commits to pretending to be a dolt. That is until pops sees TJ’s quantum physics magazine inside of a comic book!

Floyd traps TJ by making up a pretty damn good scenario in the Jughead comics but later confirms the lie by letting TJ know that wasn’t in the comic. He goes into how he likes being dumb with the guys because they like him more. Makes sense! TJ has nothing in common with them outside of attending their school but now he’s intellectually on their level. He knows this would change once he goes back to his regular self. Floyd should know this too but alas. I do love how he tells TJ he won’t rat on him. TJ returns the favor by telling his dad that he should write for the Jughead comics because that story he made up made him LOL super hard.

We cut to school where Mackey is just finishing up his group presentation about the X-Men invading Iwo Jima. Lisa Simpson isn’t impressed. Marcus and crew are up next and poor Marcus is struggling. I think it’s so funny that Marcus, a singer with a whole ass band, has stage fright upon trying to remember everything he studied for but just goes to show that music comes easier to him than school.

The internal monologues of everyone come up. Marcus is trying to remember what he studied. TJ contemplates bringing his brain back. Mo is...fucking beatboxing in his head. This shit had me dead when I first saw this episode. 

However, Lisa ain’t having it. She is two seconds away from using the dreaded red pen before TJ saves the day and begins talking about WW2. The boys are shocked but it helps trigger Marcus’s memory and then he’s able to spew out the facts. Mo doesn’t contribute but he will definitely take the credit! 

Later in the Henderson crib, Marcus is pissed because TJ almost let them fail. Although TJ is reminding Marcus that he put his effort into something and it paid off, Marcus is still annoyed leading TJ to think he doesn’t like him anymore.

Marcus explains that he enjoyed TJ’s company when he was dumb because he finally felt like what he is: his older brother. Kind of hard to feel that way when your younger brother is better at everything you do and a major know-it-all. He even admits that he can’t even pretend now that TJ is smart again because it won’t feel the same. I like when Marcus is doing more than chasing girls every episode because he shows maturity at times that is pleasing to watch.

He offers to instead be an older brother in other ways like threatening other people with violence if they make fun of TJ. Cute, but we all know Marcus is scary. Nice gesture though! Floyd comes in and tells the boys good night. At the end, we see Floyd took TJ up on his advice and is submitting an idea to the Jughead comics. Aww Floyd. I wish we’d gotten a subtle nod to if his idea was used because he seemed really happy with himself afterwards. Eh, whatever. Parents aren’t people so who cares.

Things I noticed:

- Clark being oddly satisfied that he knows Mackey and his fellow middle-aged adult friend are going to put him in the trash. Clark either has a crush on Mackey and didn’t like TJ for the attention he got from Mackey or he has some sort of a trash fetish. Or both. Maybe that’s why Lisa doesn’t fuck with him.

- “Okay students, now watch as I turn left to a right triangle.” I’m a dork and this actually made me laugh. Tough classroom, though.

[writing-with-chaos]

[Your OCs Backstory] Skills

@yourocsbackstory​ @etjwrites​

WOW. This is what I get for not reading the prompt itself and only going by the title. I totally misinterpreted the kinda skills we were supposed to be showing ^^; Of COURSE y’all wanna know about her powers! I’ll have to do an extra one that’s right.

In the mean time! Have a present day extra of the main girls having a slumber party, and Ria using her favorite mundane skill!

Ariana Salem

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

//and when it rains,

well you always find an escape

just runnin' away

from all of the ones who love you...//

Damali was going through her sleepover phase.

She'd been asleep with a wiped memory for the last thirty-five years, so there was a lot to catch up on in a short amount of time. Her phases went through quick bursts, largely influenced by whatever she was reading or watching at the moment. So far, there'd been an arts and crafts phase, a biology phase, a geology phase, a culinary phase, and an eighties phase, all within the span of a few weeks. Now, after watching a movie about a sleepover adventure, every night they huddled around the TV in their pajamas, with popcorn and pizza and candy, and built a blanket fort to nest in. ShadowGrl was gleefully in charge of making the fort every night, and Ariana managed the snacks. Under normal circumstances, it might've gotten annoying, but after the last few months of being stuck behind the walls of the Safe House, all the excitement was more than welcome. It was the most alive any of them had felt in a long time. Ariana definitely didn't mind. She was already awake on the couch most nights anyway. Having everyone sleeping in a group helped her feel safe enough to get a little more rest.

"Kendra, are you gonna join us?" Damali always remembered to ask the Chaos Power, despite the answer being the same.

"I'll be upstairs."

Damali wasn't far enough along in understanding social rules to get the disconnect, but Ariana knew, in the end, Kendra was doing them a favor. It would've felt like babysitting if she joined them. Especially knowing that their gatherings had a tendency of getting a little loud. Either way, Damali didn't seem too put off by the consistent denials. She just wanted to make sure everyone was included. It was character growth, considering how afraid she was of Kendra and 'Drea initially.

Tonight, the first activity on the agenda was painting their nails. Ariana offered to do the painting, as long as they didn't mind her being slow and careful as hell. Her perfectionism always lept out when she did anything artistic, especially now that she barely lifted a pencil. She started on Damali first. They always started the night with their favorite TV shows, and ShadowGrl's crime shows premiered first. The nails were good to keep Damali distracted. She had a low tolerance for intense action and violence, understandably so.

"What are you gonna do for yours?" Damali asked eagerly.

Ariana shrugged. "I bite my nails too much for it to matter."

"Then how did you get so good at this?"

"Ria used to paint all the time. She won an award for art school," ShadowGrl proudly bragged on her behalf.

"Really?" Damali's eyes light up.

"Yeah." Ria smiled humbly. "Nails are just like tiny easels. I used to do this for Sabin a lot."

ShadowGrl immediately turned her head from the screen. "You're telling Sabin stories?"

"No? I just said--"

"We are supposed to talk about boys here," Damali piped in, with a bright and eager look in her eyes.

"You don't even like boys, Dee. And ShadowGrl is ten, she doesn't know what a boy is."

"I do too!" Her voice squeaked with offense.

"Sarcasm, kiddo."

"That's all true!" Damali nods. "But I don't know any other girls to talk about, so you have to lead the conversation. Otherwise it's not authentic."

She sighed. Sabin's ID tags hung heavy around her neck. "There's really not a story. Panacea always made Sabin do two things growing up: keep his hair cropped and his nails super short. When he was free, he liked to do the opposite, and one time he mentioned that if he could paint his nails, he would. So I offered to give him a manicure and it became a thing."

"That's just like what you do with me!" Damali said.

"Ria's a sucker for Panacea freaks," ShadowGrl teased. She sounded proud of herself but really she was only repeating what Ariana said once.

"Thanks, brat."

"When we get him back, we can throw one of these parties and have it manicure themed! " Damali exclaimed. Ariana winced. "We could each make up a design for him, to welcome him back! Like when people sign casts!"

"Yeah! What colors did he like?" ShadowGrl was leaning forward so far she was almost in Damali's lap.

Kendra's energy started prickling in Ariana's fingertips, reacting to her growing irritation. She took a deep breath to quiet the thorns. "I don't know, it was a long time ago. I don't really wanna talk about this anymore. We talked about a boy, it counts, right?"

"Yeah, of course! ," Damali quickly piped up. She ducked her head slightly. "S-Sorry. Thank you for sharing though!"

"Yeah."

She flexed her fingers. ShadowGrl turned back to her spot and flipped the channels. It  was thankfully time for Ariana's show to come on. A mindless, more-relatable-than-she'd-like-to-admit teen drama with overexaggerated problems she could immerse herself in instead of the horror story that was her life. It was perfect to keep her distracted again. Doing any kind of art was always so relaxing. It quieted her brain, allowed her to pick out the real thoughts from the anxious noise, maybe turn one or the other into something tangible. But quiet was exactly what she was afraid of. Getting lost in the swirls of the fluffy white clouds dancing along the pastel purple she colored Damali's nails brought a rare calm that was amazing, but it also allowed memories to sneak in. It was a lie before. Of course she remembered what Sabin liked. She remembered the first color she gave him: dark blue with a silver glittery top cover, cause it reminded her of his powers. He'd always light up when she was finished, no matter if the art looked good or not. Stars, suns, ice cream, flowers, cookies. When they were dating, she'd add hearts and xos, and of course her diamond symbol so when he was in hiding he could look down and feel like she was still with him. She wondered if her bracelet she left with him had the same effect. The longer she wore his ID tags, the more they felt like dragging chains, growing heavier with the weight of his life the longer it took her to find him.

"Alright." Ariana leaned back and sucked in a steadying breath. Subtle, so it sounded like a common sigh. "All done. You like 'em?"

"I love them!" Damali could barely keep still. Her giddiness was too infectious not to bring a small smile to Ariana's face, even with the anxiety. She had to remind her not to move her hands until they dried.

"That means you're next, punk." Ariana playfully pointed to ShadowGrl. The youngest nearly lept to her side, hands at the ready. "Any requests?"

"I want lime green! With flames!"

"Hell yeah."

Ariana tried to put a little more focus on the show this time. Listen to the girls chatter with each other. The more she focused on them, the less she had to be in her own head. The less she had to acknowledge the hurt when she saw a clean streak of color and only felt a rumbling wave of panic in her spine. She was so sick of their fun moments being ruined by her own bullshit. She didn't want to deal with it today. Still, her mind couldn't help but wander. She didn't have the heart to tell Damali, but if she ever did find Sabin, he would hate having so many people he didn't know touching him. But she could paint the messages of her friends. Tell him the story of how many people rallied behind them for freedom. And with every stroke of the brush, the dead parts of her would fall away and light up with color again. A welcome home party for them both.

It was all she could hope for at this point.  

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

Author’s Note: If you read this far and you’ve been following these entries, you’re probably wondering ‘WHO THE HELL IS SABIN?????’. I didn’t get to post it last weekend, but you can still read about him and Ria’s relationship over here: “[Your OC’s Backstory] First Love”

[sakuramarie]

#Ladybugshrine

Archive of our Own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21371521

FF.Net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13398176/4/Stupidity-Nonsensical-Tales-of-the-Citizens-of-Paris

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

The Hacking Group, D.E.S.K. (Desktop Escapades into Someone’s Kookies) was out for blood. They started with some tests on some burner accounts and were successful. It was time to wreck some havoc on Instagram. Everything was going great. Dirt was being dug up on all these celebrities. Nudes. Racist Tweets. A few cheating scandals. Credit Card Numbers; even someone’s billing info that had a receipt for a very infamous site, AllisonMadison.com.   All of it being aired all over social media. Their reign of terror ended though when they tried to hack Agreste Brands. They ended up not only getting the main page but also the connected Adrien Agreste one. The group was happy to get Adrien’s. A good looking young model was sure to have something juicy hidden away on his Instagram or even better on his cloud. The only thing they found was pictures of a shrine that overtook anything else they tried to do and eventually getting caught since someone of Agreste’s payroll was more competent than all of Instagram.

Adrien Agreste’s brand on Instagram was flourishing, and he loved it. Everything was going great; he just posted a selfie of the back of his head. He claimed it was about the show having a contest for the spikes at the back of his head, but he was low key feeling how he did it and he had to show it off somehow. Compared to some others who got hacked, he got off easy. No racist tweets, no cursing, or leaking of any private information. There was no hidden bad things as Adrien was a proper gentleman. The only thing somewhat incriminating on Adrian that embarrassed him to have revealed was some pictures of his Ladybug shrine. The hacker not only got into his Instagram, but also his Cloud where his pictures were stored. The pictures are not meant to be seen by people, and they were only taken for insurance purposes. He had some really rare and expensive ladybug items and he wanted to make sure they were insured. Also he look he just wanted to look at the shrine whenever he wanted to when he wasn’t there that was neither here nor there. When the pictures of the shrine leaked he had never been more mortified. What Adrien didn’t know was that there was someone at the Ageste Mansion even more mortified that the pictures of the shrine had been leaked. Gabriel Agreste was that very person. Why his son had such an expensive and expansive shrine to his Nemesis he’ll never know. The revelation brought him so much disgrace he could barely stand it. This was such a blow to his ego he almost wished that he had ANYTHING else to be blasted on social media. A good PR team could make all things magically disappear in the public eye but the Shrine caused him mental anguish. There was only one thing for it. “NATHALIE!!!!” Yes, Nathalie would know what to do. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Adrien wanted to crawl into a hole and die. His secret ladybug shrine was not a secret anymore. Thank goodness his Anime Shrine was on an old account or else all of Paris will see that too. Still his embarrassment wasn’t as bad as it could be. People in real life and on social media seemed to be supporting him. He had heard more than once that, “Everyone had ladybug shrines,” and how a lot of people were envious of his vast collection.   #ladybigshrine was trending on the front page. Now full of people analyzing his shrine and what it’s potential cost was. It was also full of other people’s shrines, not just Ladybug, and some even to the rest of the Miraculous team. It was oddly comforting to Adrien to be so easily accepted despite his nerdiness. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Gabriel was becoming more and more unhinged The #ladybugshrine tag was haunting him. Following him like an akuma butterfly, stalking him. Waiting. He goes on his phone to talk to an investor. Ladybug shrine. He turns on his TV? People talking about Adrien’s Ladybug shrine and trying to out fan boy him. He sneezes and all he sees is the blasted Ladybug shrine Nathalie said there was nothing she could do , especially since it wasn’t technically bad. But there was! He laughed maniacally. Nooroo was looking terrified “Master… are you… ok ? ” “Oh yes Nooroo!” His eye twitch “Alright master…” Nooroo made themself scarce. Gabriel was too far gone and Nooroo was afraid. They hid back where Gabriel wouldn’t involve them. Gabriel powers up Photoshop and Google images. If Adrien doesn’t have nudes, he’ll make them himself. Adrien nudes would overshadow his Ladybug shrine. He was a genius. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A new hash tag was competing for the #ladybugshrine tag Nino blinks when he is tagged in the new ‘leaked’ photos. “ …..Wow… I know Adrien is a model….But he ain’t that thick.” Alya raises an eyebrow. “That warped wall though…” “What are you guys talking about?” Adrien asked. He had just strolled into class with Marinette and they both had some snacks from the bakery. “Um… dude… How do I say this… someone is photo shopping nudes of you.” Adrien choked on the muffin he was eating, crumbs spilling all over his and Nino’s desk. “Wait what?! I don’t… but! It’s fake I swear!”  He starts to choke as Marinette panics and starts to whack his back with the force to dislodge his organs. “Dude! Don’t die on us! It’s fine it’s clearly fake!” He puts his finger over the rather large private area and showed him “I have… to call Nathalie! she’ll know what to do!” “Ya gotta wait till break… Class is about to start. Send her a quick text?” “Good idea.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Nathalie wanted to say she was a calm and aloof person. That nothing can phase her. However she never thought in a million years when she signed up for this job that she’d have to deal with all this. Obviously fake nudes that were traced back to Gabriel and a very panicked Adrien texting her every few minutes for help. Nathalie is rubbing her temples as all her phones are going off. This was a PR nightmare and she knew where to place the blame on. “Damn it, Gabriel.” This was gonna be a long day. She takes a calming breath and takes a swing from her third cup of black coffee. Her first order of business was to take Photoshop away from Gabriel. He looked utterly deranged. To distract him she all but pushed him into his secret evil liar. “Go terrorize Paris or something. I will not have you ruin Adrien’s internet reputation with obviously fake nudes. At least try a bit harder. ” She all but locks him in the room to evilly monologue for a few hours at least . Next she contacts some very recommended White hat hackers. She has to bring the group that started this. There was no room for error. This group will taken care of quickly. After all, money was no object. It’s not like Gabriel would notice. It took six long days of her non stop Public relations cleaning and making sure her contractors were not slacking off did they find the six person team that made  D.E.S.K. She was going to make them pay for her suffering.

[thattimdrakeguy]

Today’s issue of Superman is probably one of the worst I’ve ever read.

If you skim through it, you probably wouldn’t understand why. It’s bright, colorful, fast pace, seems to have a sense of humor, and so forth, but once you stop and read through it slowly, it’s just awful.

It’s clearly something written to pander to fans of Super Sons. Despite the fact that Bendis clearly doesn’t understand the character of Damian in the slightest, besides knowing the fact that Damian’s mean, but even that, vaguely gets ignored, because the issue has a similar problem with the actual comic Super Sons itself in how it just makes Damian incredibly out of character, because the relationship of Damian and Jon wouldn’t work if he was in character. 

However, it’s just so more obvious in this. They have Damian eating hot dogs on gargoyles, they imply he’s had a card collection, just, stuff that is so representative that Bendis actually may have never read a Damian comic that I’m shocked that no one actually told Bendis that all that stuff was super off putting. Like I thought a person from editorial was supposed to step in for parts like that, but maybe I was just incorrect, or they didn’t care.

The whole comic reads like Bendis skimmed through a few issues of one of the most overrated comics of all time, that’s only as popular as it is, because it attracted an easy to pander to audience, and decided “yes, I, Brian Michael Bendis, can replicate this”. Bendis even had to drag in poor David LeFuente, who is a fantastic artist, to draw the issue despite him seemingly having an inability to draw a 13 year old that doesn’t look 5 (poor Damian still can’t find an artist that can actually draw him).

Then there’s even this part were it’s super heavily implied that Damian is furious that Jon might’ve had sex before he did, like, I have no idea what else it could be implying, because of the way it’s written, and it’s just so nasty.

Super Sons notoriously has a humongous pedophile following (or maybe it’s just me that noticed how much sexual fan art, and fan fiction gets posted about the two, like I had to block their tags because of it), so an inclusion like that just made me a little sick to my stomach.

I’m almost positive that Bendis wasn’t like “oh yes, some of the grossest people alive will love me for this”. Most likely, Bendis just thought id be funny, but come on Bendis. Damian is 13 years old. I don’t want to think about a 13 year old and his apparent intense desire to have sex first. Maybe some kids will laugh because “ha, relatable”, but it’s just nasty, man. It’s uncozy for anyone that’s not around that age, like you put this in Superman, a comic, with a really large age-range because of how long it’s been around. I’m not sure how many kids around Damian’s age actually read Superman anymore to get a lot of that “ha, relatable” reaction I assume he wanted. I’m pretty sure most people are gonna go “eww, I didn’t need to know this about him” because they’re past that age.

This feels written for the most specific audience of people who, do not care about the characters, but like them anyways, and does not care if one of them is almost entirely out of character for almost the whole entire thing.

Not even sure if that’s a demographic possible to obtain in sales, but that seems to be what Bendis was going for, because it was just baaaaad.

David Lefuente’s art is the only good part, because despite being one of those artist’s that can’t draw a young teenager that well in the slightest, his art is still at least fun to look at. If they got a lesser artist, I can’t imagine even skimming it would be fun, because the whole issue is just poorly done pandering.

Honestly, the only reason why I decided to read it, was because someone shared me the page were it’s super implied Damian’s jealous of just the notion of Jon having sex first (I have no idea if Jon has, if someone’s curious if Bendis actually went that far), and I was just ... so baffled, like “wow, this-- is gonna be bad isn’t it?”. I also read it because Bendis is a writer I look out for because at this point he fascinates me, but some how he got worse then before.

Typically, Bendis when he’s at his usual worst just feels like he’s not paying attention. Like his writing will be super dull, the story will barely advance, and at super worst he’ll make a decision so bad and out of character for the character that it’s mind boggling crazy that it was allowed, but this, it’s just like, so bad in a realm I never seen before. He just straight up tried to make a comic, that’s sole purpose was to pander to a fan base, a fan base that celebrates a comic that isn’t especially good, and Bendis didn’t even know anything about one of the main characters he had to write for it, despite pandering towards a fan base that contain said character. It’s such an odd case of bad writing.

In Event: Leviathan, Bendis also writes Damian, and he did pretty okay there. Damian’s voice was clearly off, because Damian says “Jason” instead of “Todd” or “Red Hood”, which makes me really believe Bendis has no idea how Damian talks, because he never shows the talent of actually being able to write Damian’s voice, but, because Damian isn’t a lead character that really expands the story that much in Event: Leviathan, Damian is okay. Bendis understands that Damian is really mean, and that’s enough for Event: Leviathan, because Damian doesn’t have a mega-big role in it, he’s just kind of there because he’s the Son of Batman. Knowing the bare basics is passable in the capacity Damian filled there.

On the flip-side in the Superman issue with Super Sons, I’m not sure if it’s a case of Bendis trying to replicate Super Sons, which already had a really out of character Damian, or if it’s just Bendis genuinely not understanding a simple character like Damian that badly. He just had to write this character for one issue, and so many times he shows a lack of understanding of the character, that it’s almost fascinating to me how he messed it up so bad. Like Damian is one of the main characters of it, Bendis had to actually write him for almost the whole issue, and he genuinely botched it so bad. It reads like Bendis never heard of Damian till the day before, and someone told him that Damian was a mean kid, so that’s all Bendis knew about it, then he skimmed through Super Sons to see how issues like that go and just cracked his fingers to go to work.

It isn’t easy to mess up such simple things like Bendis does with Damian. It’s pretty ridiculous. It’s baffling.

[somnolentshadows]

So! This is my official coming out in the blog world!🎉 Seems like a commemoration-worthy turn of the page for me...except I’m already at a loss for words and we’re only two sentences in...GREAT start! Fingers crossed I don’t drop this new hobby in a hot second with my deep-seated primal dread of commitment. Yup. Stellar start, me! 🙃

I suppose I should give a little self-intro before I go any further...but why is it so ridiculously difficult? *sigh* Well, I’m going by my Tumblr handle, SomnolentShadows, but that’s quite the mouthful so feel free to shorten it to “SHAY” in your replies and whatnot! Later on, I might create more tags like #Shay_[category] or #SS_[category], so it’s easier to find related posts for both you and me. 

Continuing on! I’m from the vast, woodsy country of Canada, but for the last year and a half I’ve been living in Japan for work. I’m very fond of: the color BLACK (no surprise there, with my blog just drenched in it), BTS (yes, I am an unabashed ARMY - now, say that 10 times, fast!), Harry Potter (I peaked once in my childhood after discovering the HP books, and once in my teens when I discovered the magical world of fanfics lol), dogs (huskies, samoyeds, newfies...basically all da big cuddly beasties! >w<), cats (the majestic maines, norwegian forests, ragdolls, bengals, scottish folds), tea (earl grey, jasmine, yuzu, chai), sweets (tiramisu, cheesecakes, brownies, anything strawberry), aaaaand......drawing a blank now. Wow, I just re-read this paragraph and now I feel like I’ve reverted to my 13-year old self 😑 As you can see, I am totally crushing this adulting business; my self-introduction is literally the ramblings of a pubescent girl. A’ight, let’s leave it at that, then! 

My last two brain cells have shorted out and died after trying to spit out this first post...it’s barely 4pm and I don’t think I can English anymore for the rest of the day. Anyways! I don’t know how many people, if any, will end up reading my blog, but hello~ to all of you!! Drop me your questions and I will answer them at my discretion ;)

Lastly, my parting words for today are “よろしく！” (yoroshiku). There’s no direct English translation, but it’s an everyday word with various uses/meanings/nuances. Here, I use it with the intention to say something like: “I’m looking forward to interacting with y’all! Let’s get along!”.😊

[ireneclaire]

My latest saga ... furniture “upcycling” for newbies (or, wow this is hard!)

So, here I go. My first blog post over something I never considered blogging about because I never had this type of thing in my bucket of interests.

The Backstory:

My mother passed away in January and I’m taking a deep breath (a REALLY deep breath) and gearing up to gut the house I grew up in and make it my own. That carries a lot of issues and pressures with it, no doubt. 

Along the way, I’ve got to decide what to keep and what to purge. That includes furniture which I’ve always tagged in my head as “crap”. It’s been there so long, I still walk by it and don’t even notice it anymore. Now that I have to see it, it just looks like old, worn junk. ‘Blah’ browns and old woods. Beat up and probably targeted for a dumpster. Dealing with the grief is hard; deciding what stays and goes frankly, sucks. But it has to be done.

The Old Stuff

This looks really bad, right!? Yes it does! And this is just one end table ... there is a second one, plus two bureaus - you can see one bureau behind this end table.

Message to anyone reading this and in my predicament:  STOP and LOOK. I don’t think you have to wait a year to make decisions. Sometimes it’s just not feasible to do that and for me, it’s not feasible. So fair warning:  DO stop and look with every single little thing. Get opinions and stick to your guns. There are gems hidden amongst the old stuff. 

Last month, I had aimed to throw out my parents 1950′s bedroom furniture set. This month, I tried to move it and could barely budge it an inch even with those little rug slider things from Bed, Bath and Beyond. Hmmm? 

I took a closer look. While the outside is old, ugly and worn, the actual furniture is extremely well made and solid. The drawers inside are clean and deep. The corners are dove-tailed. Each drawer has its own ‘pocket’, meaning when you take the drawer out entirely, you don’t automatically see the contents of the drawer below it.  

There’s nothing wrong with its bones!

Enter a new idea: let’s chalk paint it! 

Annie Sloan Chalk Paint

So yeah, did the Google thing and the Pinterest thing - and lo and behold, found Annie Sloan Chalk Paint, the quintessential answer to my woes! And it IS great stuff. I however, seriously lack any artistic talent whatsoever. 

Dare I try this despite its stellar - and very true - selling points?

Long story short, I found a local art store giving a free demo on Annie’s lovely paint. I took a drawer to the smallest end table, attended the demo and walked out with a gorgeous color scheme! It’s not the color I’d chosen in my head after researching hundreds of ideas. 

Matched my pillow perfectly! It was new, exciting, fresh and different ....

Maybe I should have stuck to the plan in my head. But how hard could a color wash be using two colors and the clear wax? After all, we did it in less than an hour in the demo. I took notes. Followed along diligently. I HAD this! So I purchased the required 2 cans of paint, 1 small can of clear wax, Annie’s requisite brushes and flew home like a banshee to give it a go!

The Project

I bought one can of Annie Sloan’s English Yellow, one can of Napoleonic Blue, one small can of clear wax. Ran to Lowes and got a drop cloth, a chip brush and some shop rags (the blue paper towel-like things), a small bag of clean white rags, and a box of gloves for myself. 

Yah - failed. Three times in a row, in fact. Failed. While the current final attempt isn’t bad, it’s not what I did in the demo. The color tone is off (more blue than green) and the piece won’t match the side chair that I so wanted it to complement. If there’s good news though, I can consistently repeat this failure which actually makes the piece look intentional! Is it ‘failure’ or serendipity? The only thing which looks slightly out of place, is the small drawer I did in the demo with the artist.

How’s that for rationalizing? I think it’s pretty dammed good, myself!

Is it ugly or artistic? 

I can’t decide - what do you think? The drawer done at the demo is inserted here. I’ve done the top and sides. Keep in mind that the yellow you see needs to be painted in the blue ‘wash’. 

Almost a match but I’m on the side of ‘ugly’ at the moment with a dose of humor at what it looks like because the before picture is BUTT ugly and heck, there is NO way on earth that this is worse than that! Right?! 

Please agree with me that it’s at least not ‘worse’ ... I’m a sensitive soul.

The Dresser

Regardless I will not do either large dresser this way. No way, no how! There’s too much risk involved with a larger piece of furniture which matters a lot more than a small end table. I NEED to have my mother’s dressers be as right as they can be. 

They have to be good - perfect - pretty. I need to feel like I treated these larger pieces with kid-gloves and respect.  The guilt for even daring to touch any of ‘her’ original furniture runs deep. Actually, that guilt is for every single thing in the house. But I digress ... that’s a big, black, bottomless hole to fall into and it happens enough on a daily basis.

My original plan was upcycling and transforming ONE dresser using one primary color and possibly Annie’s dark wax for a subtle, softer look. I’m returning to that plan - a bold red with Annie’s dark wax top coat. 

This is the dream from Pinterest

Remember I said to get opinions and then, stick to your guns? Yup - an example of that advice right here!

I’m still determined. I will conquer this and wind up with a piece that works for me and respects the history and all the family-related, emotional ties and angst and guilt foisted upon it (and me).