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#guess the last six seasons meant NOTHING
sethcohnn · 11 months
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THEY NEVER LEAVE THE 50’S??
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inkskinned · 1 year
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i'm used to it, and how bad it is, and how often it's so bad that it rings like a bell inside of me, drowning out everything around me. and the truth is that i get frustrated with myself about it - again? we're like this still? again? it's not that i feel weak, precisely. it's just this sense almost like - i've already been pushing against this thing for years now, shouldn't i have gained more ground?
i get frustrated because i'm sick of picking up the loose ends every six months. i get frustrated because it's always this same shit, same problem - i lose myself in a matter of months; spiral out of control, lose touch with friends and loved ones. i stop taking care of myself and therapy gets hard and i let everything around me wilt and shrivel and fall off; start somehow both sleeping too much and not-enough. i panic-attack and cry in my car in a target parking lot, pulling my hair out and hurting my ribs from sobbing so hard - and later, when i'm better, i'm embarrassed because how could i let it get that far?
it feels like - i already have done this so many times. isn't there a way out of it? isn't there a point where i've just... won? that it never happens again, that i just get to be done? maybe this is weakness, i guess - that i still (so often!) succumb.
i am used to it, so i forget exactly how hard it gets. do you even know how many times i've laid in bed, exhausted, blank and numb and listless and said - i can't anymore. i just can't. i'm not even really upset. it's okay. i've been here long enough. so much of my life was beautiful.... i'm just... done.
do you know how many times i woke up and i said - i can't and put my feet on the floor and said i can't, i don't want to and took a shower and walked the dog and bought myself fresh bread and put a nice playlist on and said i really can't, there's no end to this and i went to work and i called a friend and i made myself cookies even if food tasted like ashes and decided that i really should wait for the new album from that artist i love and i thought i can't, it's not worth it and then i washed my hands and cut my hair and drank more water and wrote a poem and signed up for an art class at the local community college and said i can't, i can't, i won't do this again, and i paid my rent and let the dishes rot in the sink but still made myself eat anything fresh even if it meant overdrawing my account on a stupid bag of plums just because they looked delicious and do you know how often i closed my eyes and thought this is it i really fucking can't, something has to give and i have nothing left that it can take and then i went to bed and i got up and i fucking survived anyway
yesterday the local ice cream place opened up for the first time this season and they were giving out tiny samples of their new dairy-free options and i tried a mango sorbet. three months ago i was positive that februrary was going to be my last month on the planet. i am teaching my dog a new trick and i just discovered a new band i love. i got a plant from the clearance aisle and repotted her and she's been perking up. i made salmon for alison and we ate it in her new house with her new beautiful baby girl. my manager told me he keeps recommending my work to others just because i always include a stupid number of puns. tomorrow i'm trying a new dance class. tomorrow i'm maybe going to buy more plums.
i forget, you know? it's not some bone-deep strength or some magical power. it's that some part of me knows - i need to stay. in all of this; out of all of this - i just want to choose love.
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sgiandubh · 5 months
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What makes a very mature and educated woman confuse the charisma of Jamie and Claire and fall behind the illusion of Sam and Cait?
Look at this picture and many others, look at Cait's smile and the happiness in her eyes
Look at the color of Tony's lips, I don't need to continue
Below this picture are many pictures of them from many years ago
This man has been a reality since 2015, so let us accept reality even if we do not like it
Note: I would love to read everything you write aside from Outlander and S&C
Dear (b)Itchy Anon,
Ah, yes. You folks are definitely a very predictable bunch, because you simply cannot help yourself and just have to do it. Every. Single. Christmas. Eve. For reasons transparent enough to make you & your kin instantly unlikeable.
I was just thinking, the other day, believe it or not. I was thinking of the disingenuous way you - or someone like you - engaged with @cb4tb on another Christmas Eve and told myself: 'I bet the farm this year it's going to be me'. And here we are, with a rather long - and also, rather curious- comment. What am I going to do with you, Anon? Just write a rather long and ironic answer to your delirious rant, what else?
Calling me 'very mature' made me spit my Pepsi - always better in Romania than the eternal Coca-Cola - and I have to dubiously and cheaply congratulate myself, too. In about six months, you were forced to transition from 'Christ, shippers are stupid' to 'Golly, some -if not most - of them really are educated people'. An apparent paradox that never made you question your surroundings.
For instance, I do not need to wear a turban, sport a cigarette holder, rent a garish tent and call myself Miss Cleo, in order to tell with eerie precision English is not your mother tongue, either. You still do have a big problem with phrasal verbs, because you couldn't have possibly meant I 'fell behind the S&C illusion', but rather that 'I fell for that illusion'. You see, falling behind is 'failing to do something in time' or 'being late with a due payment' or 'being unable to make the same progress as one's peers'. We, shippers, naturally have this kind of superpowers. And seasoned bullshit-o-meters, too.
For your information, I haven't. I explained it at length. There is no possible way to do it if one uses common sense and street smarts only. What I did see, along with thousands of other people, mind you, had absolutely -forgive me, Father, for I am about to sin again - fucking nothing to do with Seamus and Sorcha. I mean, d'oh - is this your best argument, Anon? That sad, wilted talking point? Wow. Just wow.
Then, you totally lose control and take The Scarecrow out of the closet (yes, pun totally intended), in the hope you'll make me screech with dread & horror, I suppose. Exactly which one of the five to ten max Tait pics am I supposed to look at? The one at the marathon, where he checks her pulse? The one in Australia, when he pitifully dangles that stick on a beach? The one with the flute? The fist-in-hand one? The one at this year's IFTA, where she looks through him and he begs for a smile? I shall never know, because you do not add any picture and since I am not Miss Cleo, there's no way I could ever guess. Instead, you describe Neverland in Technicolor, lips included (so help me God, I never looked at McIdiot's lips: I take pride in being mentally sound). Indeed, there is no need to continue, Anon, lest you would insist to ridicule yourself.
This man has been a (questionably) useful prop since 2016, in order to give credence to a narrative. You all know it. You all deny it. You live in a parallel reality, currently embraced by PR. Amen. That does not give you the right to police this fandom and no, your derailed zeal will not get you any Brownie points from C.
Speaking only for myself, I will tell you one last time: I will never blindly accept a convenient compromise fiction just because TPTB and/or PR tell me so.
Note: I doubt my writing interests you. I really do, because I don't deal in fanfic. And even if I am an Oriental, know flattery never worked with me. In fact, I can't stand it.
It's Christmas. Take a break from all this pathetic hatred, Anon: if you have but a cell left of humanity in yourself, you can't possibly be proud of this message and there are far more interesting and meaningful ways to spend this special day. He came for you, too. And that is the most important thing in the world, right now.
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justauthoring · 1 year
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Shadow of Yourself [10/18]
Prompt: “You’ve changed, Eli. I barely even know who you are right now.”
A/N: YALL GUESS WHAT I FINALLY UPDATEDDDDDDDD i dunno even know why i took so long to write this. season four is my fave season and in my opinion eli’s best season so im very very excited to finally get started on it! also with season six officially being announced as the final season, i have concluded how many parts will be left until we are done this series :(
Based off of: Cobra Kai 04x01, 04x02 and 04x03 Warnings: some swear words (because tumblr apparently doesn’t like that) Pairing: Eli Moskowitz x F!Reader
Tag List: @moonydrafts - @ashwhowrites - @traveleraroundsworld - @truly-abysmal - @likecherriesinthespring - @hollxe1 - @asonofpeter - @scarlett-verse - @musically-ambiguous - @kayda1 - @moon-zoons - @dwcode - @day-dreamsinthedark - @leilani788 - @silvermagnolias - @hawkinsavclub - @animewolflover278 - @gruffle1 - @b-tchymoon - @maggiecc - @beetea38 - @hawkinsavclub1983 - @crpytids - @embersparklz - @kimilight - @httpjiikook - @marauderssmut - @fyckcore - @multinci - @lqveabby - @oh-well-whatever-nevermind - @redskull199987 - @silvermagnolias - @shortneko - @okjaeminn - @thecyclonetragedy - @vamproq - @siriusfahey - @cobrakaigirlie - @kaylinfayezink - @oursuh - @aphroditelxver - @minl0u - @cherrywinepoison - @bath1lda - @fixalice - @fallsofserinity - @maisieibae - @ssrcsm​ - @notplutos - @kaitieskidmore1​ - 
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LET’S START OVER, SHALL WE?:
The first shared class of Miyagi-Do and Eagle Fang was… interesting to say the least.
You don’t really know how you expected it to go… You just hoped it’d go better then it actually did. It was pretty clear from the beginning of the class that Mr. Larusso and Johnny had very different ideas of how to teach a karate class and neither could seem to keep their mouth shut about the other's style for more than a minute.
If it wasn’t Johnny obnoxiously judging Mr. Larusso’s teaching style, it was Mr. Larusso barely able to contain the concerned look on his face with every action Johnny instructed his students to do. It was hard to differentiate who you were supposed to listen to, both talking over one another, and students had taken hits from the both of them yelling different instructions. 
It wasn’t hard to tell that the tension between them was leading to tension between students as well.
Not to mention, Eli was there.
The night of the Christmas Party, you’d just been relieved. Seeing Demetri and Eli work together, help you together was enough to make everything feel like it was okay all over again – and hearing Eli apologize for it all… well, it had been enough to make your heart soar. And the excitement of that had drifted on for days, leaving you beaming and happy, especially when you’d see Demetri and Eli be friends again. Joking, laughing, just… hanging out again.
You’d been so happy. You still were.
But, it seemed it wasn’t so easy for you and Eli to fall back into old ways like it was for him and Demetri. Namely, there was the fact that before everything had happened, yours and Eli’s feelings for each other had been confessed. After years of hiding your feelings for Eli, for fear of him rejecting you, suddenly out in the open had been enough of a shock but with everything else that happened? You never really got to truly understand what those feelings meant, or what they meant to Eli.
A few days after kissing him, you’d found him making out with Moon. After that, the two dated. Everyone, including Moon herself, told you that Eli was never really in it with Moon, that he still had feelings for you. That it was obvious. That he’d missed you… but how were you supposed to really know? After all of this, how could you be sure? One fight, one fight and Eli had easily tossed you aside for a prettier, more popular girl like you’d been nothing to him.
Like his feelings for you weren’t real.
So what if everyone said he still likes you? You hadn’t seen it. Last you saw, he’d made out with another girl right in front of you and broken your heart.
Things were awkward; which to be truthful felt like an understatement. You didn’t know how to talk to Eli, not anymore. You didn’t know what to say to him or how to act. Did you approach him just as a friend? Or more? Regardless of all he’d done, your feelings for him had never wavered and simply looking at him still made your heart race madly and this flutter of warmth envelop you.
He was still everything to you.
If he didn’t return your feelings, if he didn’t feel that way about you… the thought of just having to ignore your own feelings and act like you’re just friends? You couldn’t bear the thought. It made you sick just thinking about it.
So, you just simply kept your distance.
You’d smile at him, greet him when given the chance… you didn’t necessarily want him to think you hated him because god knows that was the farthest thing from the truth. But you didn’t want to get your heart broken either, and maybe it was the selfish thing. Maybe you were horrible for wanting to protect your heart; either way, you didn’t want to find out.
And you were content with that.
Slipping in to Mr. Larusso’s dojo, you drop your bag off inside like you usually do, sending a small smile to Sam on her way. She’s busy chatting with her dad, and you know you’re a few minutes early, so pulling out your phone, you move to make your way outside, only to walk straight into another.
You stumble back a few steps before hands reach out to catch you, steadying you on your feet. You blink in surprise, eyes flickering upwards only to fall on Eli’s own surprised ones staring back down at you. 
“Oh, Eli,” you mumble, pulling your hands to your chest where you nervously pull at the sleeves of your sweater. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.”
He shakes his head a little too quickly; “no, it’s my fault. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”
You laugh lightly at that, the way he’s so quick to assure you you’re not at fault, shaking your head as Eli blinks down at you, for a moment baffled by your laughter, before he’s unable to stop the small fond smile that curls onto his lips at the sight. It’s entirely too adorable the way you giggle, eyes crinkling as your lips part in delight, and he thinks he could stand there and watch you for hours. If you’d let him.
It takes you a moment to realize you’re laughing louder than intended, and with warm cheeks, you lower your gaze; “sorry,” you apologize again, embarrassed.
“No, don’t be,” Eli admonishes, “your laugh is cute.”
To be fair, his compliment shocks the both of you. You feel your face grow incredibly red at the compliment and Eli seems entirely too baffled given he’s the one who said the words in the first place. 
Still, it makes your heart flutter.
Unsure what to say, you brush a strand of loose hair behind your ear, meeting his gaze briefly; “you’re here, uh, early.”
“Oh, yeah. I was just grabbing my water bottle. Demetri and I came here early to practice a bit.”
You smile at that, happy the two came together.
“Shit, sorry.”
Blinking at Eli, you’re surprised at the panic look that crosses his face.
“We should’ve asked you if you wanted to come,” he explains, shaking his head as if disappointed in himself. “I don’t know why we didn’t. I just–”
“Eli?” You call softly, quirking a brow.
He falters, shoulders falling; “yeah?”
“It’s okay,” you grin, “I’m happy you and Demetri are hanging out again.”
Eli takes a moment to respond, lips left parted and you wouldn’t know; but the reason is because he’s absolutely smitten by the bright grin on your face, unable to look away.
If anyone else was watching, they’d wonder how two people could be so oblivious.
“It’s not the same without you though,” Eli finally manages to find his words, his voice entirely too sure to ever doubt his words. You blink at the confession, body easing at bit as you bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning wider.
Seriously, Y/N, get control of yourself.
“Well–”
“Okay, everyone! Line it up!”
You never get to finish what you’re saying as Johnny’s loud voice booms, making you slightly jump, taking a glance around only to notice just how many of the other kids had filtered in while you and Eli had been talking. You’re honestly impressed you never noticed any of them, feeling yourself blush slightly at the fact that you’d been too enthralled by Eli to even notice your surroundings.
You meet Eli’s gaze briefly and then the both of you move, him stepping out of your way and letting you slip out first before following after you. When you make it outside, you catch Demetri’s eyes instantly and he’s grinning widely at you, the intention clear on his face as you blush, embarrassed, ducking out of his view and moving to the opposite end of the group from him. Distantly, you notice Eli making his way over to Demetri, the latter saying something to Eli which causes him to shove Demetri lightly.
You can’t help but wonder what he said.
“Ready,” Johnny calls once everyones in place, “bow.”
With ease, everyone listens.
“Sensei Lawrence and I have the same goal of preparing you for the tournament,” Mr. Larusso speaks up once everyone stands straight.
“But we have different ways of getting you there,” Johnny finishes.
“We realize that teaching you opposing viewpoints at the same time can be a little confusing.”
To say the least, you can’t help but think.
“So, we’ve discussed it and come up with a solution. We’re gonna divide and concur.”
Wait, what?
“Eagle fang trains out front,” Johnny calls, gesturing behind him.
Mr. Larusso nods; “and I’ll be back here with the Miyagi-Dos.”
Miguel steps up from beside you; “but I thought we were stronger working together,” he calls, reminding the both of them of their own words.
“We’re still working together.”
“Just separately. On opposite ends of the dojo.”
So, not working together then.
“All right, Eagle Fangs, follow me,” Johnny calls, moving to turn around.
“Miyagi-Do’s, come on over here.”
You glance around, taking notice of the confused looks on everyone’s faces, ones that mimic yours perfectly. This wasn’t exactly what you had in mind when Miguel and Sam had first proposed working together, and to say you were disappointed Mr. Larusso and Johnny couldn’t work out their differences, even just for class, was an understatement.
Still, you don’t say anything, simply following behind the rest of the Miyagi-Do’s. Your eyes briefly meet Eli’s along the way, offering a small smile on the way to which he mimics, before falling next to Demetri’s side.
Despite everything that happens, you don’t miss the shit-eating grin on his face.
Rolling your eyes, you huff; “don’t say a word.”
He simply holds up his hands, laughing.
-
“--Go back to your little Eagle Fang, you’re not wanted here.”
Pausing at the sound of Chris’ voice, you pick up the speed in your step, making your way inside. You’d been heading in to grab a sip of water bottle after Mr. Larusso had called a five, only to walk in and find Eli standing on the opposite side of Chris and Bert, with Demetri standing next to them. It’s not hard to tell what’s going on, and at the lack of anything from Demetri, you step forward.
“Come on, Chris,” you call out, pulling everyone's attention on you. “He’s trying his best.”
You ignore the shocked look on Eli’s face as he glances back at you.
Chris scoffs, shaking his head. 
You cross your arms over your chest; “what?”
“You’re just saying that cause you’re in love with him.”
Blinking in bewilderment at Chris’ words, your head jerks back, embarrassment flooding you, lips parting but no words leaving your lips. You’re sure your face is beat red, and honestly you’re shocked Chris is even saying such a thing to you that you’re stunned silent for a moment.
Chris turns back to Eli; “and he isn’t wanted here.”
Eli falters at that, taking one last look at you, then Demetri, before turning to leave. You wait for Demetri to say something, and when he doesn’t, you just shake your head, glaring at Chris, and moving to follow after Eli.
“Eli–”
You pause when you see him standing in front of Mr. Larusso.
He hasn’t noticed you yet.
“Hey, Mr. Larusso, can we talk?”
“What?” Mr. Larusso huffs, exasperated.
“I don’t know where I fit in here.”
“Well, wh-what did you expect?” Mr. Larusso huffs at him, throwing his hands up in defeat. “You’ve burned bridges with pretty much everyone here.”
That was the last thing you expected to hear Mr. Larusso say.
Frowning, Eli pauses when he notices you out of the corner of his eye, clearly embarrassed, moving to walk off before Mr. Larusso can say anything else, even as he calls for him. You bite your lip, wanting to call for him but almost not knowing what to say either. 
It wasn’t like you didn’t think Chris might have a point – Eli had done a lot, and it wasn’t so easy to forgive. But it didn’t take a genius to realize he was at least trying to make amends. And you don’t think he should be punished for that.
You step forward as the rest of the students filter out, watching Eli rush off, before letting your gaze fall to your feet.
“What did you do?” Johnny turns to Mr. Larusso, scoffing.
“What did I do?” Mr. Larusso huffs, “I’m not the one who's been kicking his ass all day.”
“We’re training for the All Valley, not some yoga competition.”
“Don’t disrespect my dojo in front of your students.”
Glancing beside you, you meet Demetri’s gaze who wears a similar expression as you.
This cannot be good.
“Don’t tell my how to run my class,” Johnny counters, stepping backwards before pointing a finger at Mr. Larusso’s face. “I’ll do whatever I want.”
Mr. Larusso is quick to follow after him; “I know what you’re doing.”
“Yeah?”
“As long as you’re under my roof, they’re both our students.”
“Oh, yeah, I know. Under what roof? We're outside.”
The two walk off, practically yelling at each other.
-
Needless to say, you’re more than nervous for class the next day.
When you’d gotten home that night, venting to your mom had only helped a bit. It was nice to come home to her actually there, and she’d been more than willing to listen, but try as she might, she didn’t really understand all the drama that was involved. So, after dinner, you try texting Demetri, but he replies simply with “busy with Yasmine” and leaving it at that. Making it clear he didn’t really care to listen to your woes in that moment.
You’re hesitant to text Eli after everything that had happened that day. Plus, it’s not like you’ve really been texting him that much recently anyways.
That left Robby, and you text him with ease, knowing it’s been a bit since you lasted texted him. Only, he never replies to your text. You try texting him a couple of times, even just to check if he's okay, but he never answers. 
Another thing to add to your list of worries.
When you walk into the dojo the next day, you can’t help the nerves rattling through you. You have half the mind to expect Mr. Larusso and Johnny to simply walk into class that day and break the news on what you’re all expecting at this point – that they can’t work together.
Would it disappoint you? Yes. Surprise you? No.
Only, when you get to class, Eli’s holding a sledgehammer, and the rest of the student’s are filtered around the yard, taking grass, wood and things left behind over the years, and piling them away, clearing the space.
“Uh,” you call out, making your way over to Eli, “what’s all this?”
Eli spins to you at your voice, eyes hopeful.
“Building a bridge,” Eli grins at you.
Your brows furrow; “what?”
Blinking, he laughs lightly; “an Okinawan sparring deck,” he explains further, “I figured it might help everybody work together better if we had the extra space. Despite you standing up for me yesterday, everybody's right. Talk is cheap and I wanna prove I really am sorry so I came up with this idea.”
He’s glancing at you hesitantly, never taking his eyes off of you, waiting for your reaction.
Glancing around, you watch as everyone moves around, doing their small part to help clear the empty space, gather the wood and more. You’ve never actually seen all of them work together so well. There’s no fighting, no arguing, everyone’s just… working together.
You turn to Eli, eyes shining with admiration; “that’s an amazing idea, Eli.”
His face brightens; “you think?”
“Yeah,” you grin widely, “of course I do.”
He laughs lightly, cheeks warming slightly, you completely unaware of how much your words mean to him.
“What can I do to help?”
And Eli’s all too quick to get you to help him specifically. You realize it easily, but don’t say anything; secretly giddy at the fact.
Things turn for the better from then on out.
When Johnny and Mr. Larusso walk into class that day, whatever they’d been about to say simply dies on the tip of their tongues at the sight of their students, from each dojo, working together to not only help each other, but help both of their sensei’s work together for the better. 
It isn’t hard to tell how it impacts both of them.
Classes are basically smooth sailing from then on. Johnny and Mr. Larusso are able to work practically seamlessly with one another, providing what you can’t deny is entertaining banter with another most of the time whilst also being able to be respectful of each other’s teaching styles. Days are spent learning both offense and defense, the way of Miyagi-Do and the way of Eagle Fang. 
You find yourself excited to go to class. Things are finally looking up.
Which is why you’re more than disappointed when your mom tells you you need to skip out on class one day because she needs you.
“Mom, I’m training for the All Valley Tournament.”
“Yes, and you can afford to skip one class.”
Huffing, you dramatically fall over the counter, “I don’t understand why we can’t do… whatever” (she refuses to tell you) “we’re doing another day. Preferably when I don’t have class.” Raising a brow at her, you just frown when she rolls her eyes.
“Is spending the day with your mom so bad?” She asks, head tilted in curiosity.
Of course it isn’t. Once upon a time, you would’ve killed for just that. A single day with her. And none of that has changed; of course you don’t mind spending time with your mom and it wasn’t like you couldn’t use a mini little break from karate and all the drama that involved it. But…
“Today was the day Miyagi-Do’s training with Johnny,” you pout, not necessarily really meaning it. “I was excited.”
Pausing, your mom glances back at you, and there’s this look that washes over her face, an expression of guilt, and she sighs; “if it’s really that important, honey. We can… do this another day.”
There’s something odd about the way she says it. Something in the tone of her voice.
You know what it means, deep in the back of your mind; something you don’t want to admit, to realize. Something that makes your chest tighten and your heart suddenly feel heavy. Something you pray isn’t true.
So, with a simple frown, you just shake your head; “it’s okay,” you ease, nodding at her and letting a small smile curl on your lips. “I can miss one class,” you shrug, trying to play it off casual, despite the ever growing grin spreading on your mom’s face. “It’s just karate.”
And she beams, bright eyed and grinning and an excited squeal leaves her lips, one that has you laughing. You let her grab you by the arm, pulling you upstairs so that you can get ready, her only rule being that you ‘wear something cute’ as she said, causing you to roll your eyes. Still, you listen, picking out a cute sundress you haven’t worn in a while, brushing out your hair and curling it, feeling oddly confident in yourself as you get ready.
Then, as you sit on your bed, waiting for your mom to get ready, you pull out your phone, frowning when you realize Robby still hasn’t replied to your texts.
Biting your lip, you open up his messages, fingers moving swiftly;
hope you’re okay. let me know if you need anything.
Frowning, you wait, praying you’ll get a response.
You don’t.
A few moments later, your mom’s calling after you, and you reluctantly tuck your phone away and moving to make your way down the stairs.
“Coming!”
The entire day is spent just the two of you. Your mom dedicates her entire focus on you that day; shopping, a nice lunch, a movie in the afternoon and then, back home where the both of you prepare a nice home-cooked meal that the two of you always used to make together when you were younger. The only thing that can be heard is 2000’s pop blasting in the kitchen and the two of you singing both loudly and out of tune as you make dinner.
You swear you can’t remember the last time you’ve had so much fun with your mom. It reminds you of how it used to be, when you were younger, when you’d spend every waking moment you possibly could with your mom. She’d been your best friend for years, before Eli and Demetri, and often, your mom had been the only one you’d had to lean on. Making friends had never been something you’d been good at, and having your mom made everything easier.
When she’d started working so much more, it felt like you had lost everything.
Then, you’d met Eli and Demetri and they’d been able to help fill the hole she’d left.
This, spending the entire day with your mom? It brought you such intense joy, feelings of nostalgia, just being able to be yourself, be silly, without the worry of school or karate or boys… 
And yet, when dinner’s done, both of your plates empty, you already know what’s coming next.
The words that have been stuck at the back of your throat all night, scared to leave your lips.
“You have to go back to work, don’t you?”
Her eyes widen, shocked at your words that cut through the comfortable silence that had existed between the both of you. You watch her face, watch as the shock fades and that same expression from this morning falls on her face.
“I got called back,” she explains, voice low, “and if I don’t go it could risk my job.”
Glancing down at your plate, you nod; “how long will you be gone for?”
“At least, three months.”
Eyes widening, your gaze snaps to hers; “but you’ll miss the tournament.”
Swallowing thickly, your mother nods. “I’m sorry, baby–”
You push yourself to a stand, chair screeching beneath you as you shake your head, feeling your eyes water as the realization settles in. The realization you’d realized this morning but had tried to ignore… had tried to hope wasn’t real. Everything sinks in then, like a slap to the face; it hurts so much that it burns. “Then… this whole day… what? Was it just to make you feel better about leaving?”
Your mother is quick to shake her head; “no, honey, I wanted to spend the day–”
“That is such bullshit” You scream, slamming your hands on the table, unable to control yourself as the anger boils over and the hurt blinds you from seeing reason. “You thought spending one day would make up for missing the tournament? You could even miss me graduating!”
“Y/N–”
“I don’t want to hear your excuses,” you huff, blinking back the tears that threaten to fall as you move to walk away. “I really thought you were trying, but I should’ve known it’d only last so long.”
“Y/N, just listen to me.”
You don’t.
You can hear her following after you, but you don’t care. You continue to walk away, opening the door without a second of hesitation and letting it slam behind you. It’s already dark out, but you barely pay attention to it, not paying attention to where you’re going as you keep walking. Somewhere along the way, you’re unable to hold your tears back and you find yourself crying, practically sobbing, holding your arms to your chest as you keep walking.
You can't believe it…. Can’t believe you actually thought, for once, she’d stay.
That she would actually stay for you.
You’ve been walking for a good twenty minutes before you finally stop, out of breath, chest rising and falling with your vision blurred by your own tears. You glance around, confused on where you are, finally realizing just how chilly it is outside as you stand there, hugging yourself tightly.
You were still in your sundress from earlier, never having changed and you didn’t even think of grabbing a jacket when you stormed out.
“Y/N?”
Jumping at the new voice, panic wells within you, until you turn, shoulders falling with relief but confusion at the sight of Eli.
You blink, slowly, taking another look at your surroundings, only to realize you weren’t lost. You were standing just a few houses away from Eli’s house. 
In the midst of your distress, your feet had led you straight to Eli.
“Are you okay?” Eli calls, taking a few steps towards you. “Hey, are you… are you crying?”
Wiping at your cheeks, embarrassed, you try to turn away, only for Eli’s hand to fall on your shoulder, halting your movement. You freeze at the touch, but he doesn’t pull back, instead gently nudging you to face him where he ducks slightly to get a good look at your face. Once he realizes you were, in fact, crying, his eyes widen and his chest tightens with worry.
“What happened? Did… Did someone do something to you? Y/N, what–”
“Eli! Eli…” You cut in, stopping his rambling as your eyes finally meet his, “I’m okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
He pauses, lips parting to say something, before hesitating. “Did… Did someone do something to you?”
You shake your head.
Frowning at your silence, Eli then notices his hand still on you, hesitantly pulling away, noticing as he steps back, the goosebumps all over your arms. He properly takes in what you’re wearing, and jumping to attention, he’s quick to pull off his hoodie, gently moving to wrap it around your shoulders. “Here,” he calls gently, “you’re cold.”
Sniffling, you grab his hoodie, pulling it closer around you. You let yourself cuddle into the warmth, basking in the familiar and soothing scent, ignoring the way your cheeks have warmed slightly, or the way Eli’s have too, and instead, turn back to meet his gaze. “Thank you, Eli.”
“Of course,” he nods, “will you tell me what happened now?”
You shake your head, “it’s stupid.”
“It’s not,” he argues gently. “Not when it comes to you.”
Lips parting, you stare back at Eli.
His face doesn’t falter.
“I… My mom… she’s leaving again,” you explain, the words practically pouring past your lips at his confession. “For at least three months. She’ll miss the tournament most likely. She’ll even miss me graduating.”
“Oh,” Eli frowns.
“Yeah,” you nod.
“I’m… I’m so sorry, Y/N.”
Letting your eyes fall shut at his words, you shrug; “I should’ve known. It was silly of me to get my hopes up.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Eli assures, not an ounce of hesitation. “Anybody would get their hopes up.”
Meeting his eyes, you bite your lip; “yeah, well… It doesn’t make it hurt any less.” And at your words, you can’t help the way your eyes water in response, feeling the sob building up. It all comes bubbling up again, welling deep within your chest and begging to break out.
Eli notices too, and with only a moment of hesitation, unsure if you want him to or not, he takes a step towards you. You don’t argue, don’t say anything, simply letting yourself fall into his familiar warmth, head falling into the crook of his neck as his arms wound around your waist. Your own hands move to the back of his shirt, clutching onto it tightly as a sob breaks past your lips.
Eli doesn’t say anything. Simply just holding you.
He’d always been better at showing you he cared rather than telling you.
You find familiarity in the way he holds you, relishing in being able to have Eli this close once again as you let everything out in that moment.
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orangeoctopi7 · 2 months
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New season of Ninjago! I'm currently six episodes in.
(also I'm writing this the morning after I watched these episodes so my thoughts might be out of order)
Awkward teenage Riyu design is cute, but in that awkward, mid-stage pokemon evolution way.
"Intelligent George" is just every adult Ninjago fan on YouTube throwing around theories over the last year.
Sorry Lloyd, prophetic dreams of doom run in the family.
Hey, wait a sec. You know who else has prophetic dreams? Why are you not going to Zane with this?
Please give Arin a "you don't need powers to be powerful" arc.
All this talk of shattering all the good inside someone is reminding me of a certain other spell used to remove all the goodness from Garmadon back in season 8, but I doubt they're actually meant to be connected.
Slightly disappointed that the pink Serpentine isn't Skales' wife.
Euphrasia couldn't take on the master of Smoke, the elemental master she probably has the best type match up against? I don't wanna sound like one of those fans, but jeez, Morro would have destroyed this guy.
The Kai-Nya siblings dynamic continues to be on point.
Wyldfyre continues to be the best character.
I was honestly expecting Sora's fear dream to be more of the same insecurities we saw from her last season, but she actually has moved past that and now she's afraid of having to go back to Imperium. I was pleasantly surprised by that.
Oof, Nya's dream is giving me so many feels. This is foreshadowing, isn't it?
"Jay would never forget me. And even if he somehow did, he'd never be this calm and collected about a stranger coming up and hugging him."
Oh. Oh, we're not seeing Wyldfyre 's fear dream? Oh, she doesn't want to talk about it? *Rubbing hands together* I think we're gonna get some backstory and lore here!
*Bonzle to Cole and Geo* "You are my da-ads. You're my dad's. Boogie Woogie Woogie."
Suddenly Basketball
Ah, the dragon masters. The fact that dragons can learn spinjitzu honestly makes sense to me, all the way back in the pilot, I thought the way the dragons spun around in order to travel to the other realms was obviously related to Spinjitzu.
I like that Rontu is basically just a typical gym coach in dragon form.
Egalt, on the other hand... Well, I do really like his design. But man, he's just every bad "teaching" method from Wu rolled into an even grumpier old man. Talking down to his students, constantly being negative instead of giving positive reinforcement, no clear instructions, giving no answers or even hints to Arin's question, nothing! Maybe I care about this more than other people because I've worked as a teacher on and off for years, but even when I first started watching the show, back when I was still in college, I was already noticing these things about Wu and they already bothered me.
Anyway, calling it now, the students from "last time" Egalt keeps vague-ing were Wu and Garmadon, and Wu learned all his bad "teaching" methods from this guy.
Bonzle being a living spell is weird, but honestly not that out of the question for a crazy fantasy world like Ninjago.
Ok, so I'm going to break the first rule of enjoying Ninjago and think about the timeline. Judging by what Wu said, I'm guessing Bonzle ran into him some time early in season 2? And when did all this with the Forbidden Five happen?
Anyway, very excited to see where this is going, if only I didn't have to work today.
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sirdust · 4 months
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I've watched the episodes and it's so much worse then I thought…
Instead of focusing on the obvious HUGE flaw in 6, but instead of the flaws in how Charlie uses Angel Dust as an example of improvement? It feels like such a cheat to make things more difficult for her, why would she pick Angel? Pentious has expressed more change in a few weeks then Angel ever did to start with. It feels dismissive of both her, and Pentious as a character! Like the duet meant nothing I guess. Even in the very same episode Pentious expressed more natural and organic kindness then Angel's forced confrontation with Valentino. Same with how he is kind to Nifty with no irritation whatsoever, he saves her in episode 5 even! He has been the perfect representation of improvement without selfish reason, the fact Charlie didn't pick him to showcase was just to keep conflict in the story and it's incredibly lazy.
this is so true and it's sooo aggravating lmao. it's obvious that they elevated pentious' role during development but wanted to change the actual outline they'd devised as little as possible, so instead of working with elements as they naturally arise throughout the story, we have charlie claiming angel is worthy of going to heaven by episode SIX. even if we put aside the fact that this is much too quickly paced, we did not see angel improving at ALL over the course of the season in an organic way. we have him sing his duet with husk in ep4, not have any important screentime in ep5, and then, in ep6, husk talks about how he's made progress with his drug problems? we didn't see this at ALL, and it's such a problematic way of handling an addict character generally (but that's a whole other can of worms). i'm so baffled.
putting this last bit below a cut since it concerns story leaks that are now all but guaranteed to be true:
pentious is apparently going to die at the end of the season and i've seen theories that this will solve the conflict with heaven because his soul will be redeemed and ascend. this is plausible in terms of story development but makes little to no actual sense when you consider it critically. if it doesn't happen it's a horrible waste of a character; if it does, it's a waste of a character as well as a cheap cop-out that doesn't even relate to the character who is SUPPOSED to be the crux of the redemption plotline. making pentious a hotel resident in ep2 was a huge mistake when it comes to the pacing and argument of the show for the reasons you and i have already mentioned.
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kaitidid22 · 1 year
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Fanfic: If These Walls (Conrad/Billie)
Summary: Conrad floats an idea and old insecurities arise for Billie. Plus, Gigi is so stinking cute. (Canon-friendly...I think? Set post season 6.)
A/N: A few caveats here.
Firstly, I haven't watched the finale. I'm nervous about it. I'll watch it tomorrow. So, I have no idea if this is still canon-friendly.
Secondly, I've been sitting on this for a few days. I really did mean to have this out mid-week last week, but I kept second guessing myself on it.
I hope you like it!!
“Can we talk?”
Billie looked up from where she had been staring at the coffee pot with blurry eyes to find Conrad hovering at the edge of the counter, still in pajama pants. The early morning light was dim in the kitchen, and Billie hadn’t bothered turning on any lights when she stumbled downstairs at six-thirty. 
She had been in surgery late into the night and had only crawled into bed beside him around one in the morning. He and Gigi had both long been asleep, and Billie had almost gone home instead. But she and Conrad had planned to surprise Gigi with a brunch date—or what Gigi called “fancy breakfast”—at a restaurant the little girl loved the next morning. Billie had decided it made the most sense to go to Conrad’s, even if she would be forced to sneak in and creep up the stairs in the wee hours.
Billie was self-aware enough to know that she had used brunch as an excuse. She could have slept at her own house and told Conrad to call her when he and Gigi were awake. There would have been plenty of time to get back to Conrad’s for the brunch reveal to Gigi. But Billie preferred being in bed with him. There was comfort in hearing his breathing and being able to reach out to touch his back or chest in the dark.
Besides, she had thought to herself the night before. Why have a key if I don’t use it?
The fact that she had still woken up before either Conrad or Gigi, though, pissed Billie off. She hadn’t been able to doze off again, even with her hand against Conrad’s back as he slept peacefully next to her. So, she had stumbled down the stairs, accepting her fate, and flipped on the coffeemaker.
“Good morning,” she said in a sleep-rough voice.
A smile tugged at his lips. “Good morning,” he murmured. He studied her face. “Are you still up for brunch? You look exhausted.”
“You always know just what to say to make a girl feel special,” Billie said. As Conrad laughed under his breath, she added, “I’ll be fine with some coffee. I didn’t want to miss it.”
“How’s your patient?” he asked.
Billie pulled her phone out of the pocket of her robe and opened it to the status update she had received from the ICU staff. She held it out to him, and he studied the page with a furrowed brow.
“Numbers look good,” he said in a soothing tone.
“He’s not awake yet,” Billie countered. “He should have woken up last night.”
Conrad locked the phone and stepped close to slide it back into her pocket. Then he brushed a kiss into the skin of her temple and murmured, “You know it’s not always that simple.”
“I know,” Billie said. “I’m not giving up hope. It’s just… floundering.”
He ran a hand down her hair, and she shut her eyes, letting the comfort flow from his hand and soft touch into the center of her chest. Sometimes, with some cases, nothing anyone could possibly say could make her feel better. But, somehow, Conrad touching her always settled the restlessness in her chest. Not completely, of course. The anxiety would remain until she was sure one way or another how her patient would fair. Closure was important to Billie. Even if closure meant hiding in her office with the lights off and crying. But with one touch or hug, Conrad was always able to turn down the volume of her anxiety to a constant static buzz instead of blaring sirens.
The coffeemaker beeped to let her know it was finished brewing. The sound caused Billie to stir, and Conrad’s hand fell away as he moved to the cabinet to grab his own mug. She frowned, suddenly remembering what he had said when he joined her in the kitchen. 
“Sorry, what did you want to talk about?”
“We can talk about it after brunch,” he said, lips curved upwards in a gentle expression.
Her frown only deepened as nerves burst to life in her stomach. He poured coffee into their mugs, her first and then himself, before opening the fridge and pulling out the milk for her.
“Is this because of last night?” she asked, ignoring the milk.
Confusion had him squinting at her, but he opened the milk himself and poured some in her coffee. “Last night?” he repeated in question.
“Because I came here instead of going home,” she explained. She sighed and ate the crow. “I’m sorry I did that without talking to you about it. I thought about having you call me when you woke up—”
“I’m glad you came here,” he interrupted.
“Oh.” Then what… Her brain stalled out, though, failing to supply any sort of explanation.
He folded his arms over his chest and faced her, leaning a hip against the counter. “Drink your coffee.”
She picked up her mug. “Right.”
“I kind of wanted you to be awake for this discussion,” he said. He looked amused.
“I’m awake.”
“You’re really not.”
“I am,” she insisted. “Besides, I’m going to drive myself crazy wondering if you don’t just tell me what’s going on.”
He blew out a breath. “Yeah, I get that. I just… wanted to open the dialogue.”
“Okay,” she said. “About?”
He hesitated, then gestured to the living room. “Let’s sit down.”
Billie trailed after him to the couch and settled in the corner like she always did, surprised when he settled in the other corner instead of next to her. Six feet was left lying between them. She studied his face with growing fear. He looked… Was Conrad nervous?
“Okay,” she said, when he didn’t speak. ��We’re sitting. Open the dialogue about what?”
“Moving in.”
“Moving in where?” she asked, stupid with exhaustion.
“Moving in together. It doesn’t have to be here.” His eyes flew around the room as if he had never seen it before. “Your place is bigger.”
And it was. Her place had three bedrooms, with a den, living room, and an eat-in kitchen, as well as a separate dining room.
“But I don’t have any furniture,” she said.
Conrad chuckled. “Drink your coffee,” he said again.
She took a sip. Her brain was trying to catch up—it really, truly was.
“We’ve only been dating for three months,” she said.
“So, that’s true,” he admitted. But he had a steel edge to his tone that told her he had anticipated this point and prepared a rebuttal. “But if you count all the time we spent together before that—”
“As friends,” she interrupted.
“Billie.”
“What?” she asked, feeling her cheeks heat at his chiding expression and gentle, almost pitying, tone.
“We hadn’t been just friends for a very long time even before I kissed you on your porch,” he said. “I had been in love with you for… I don’t even know how long.”
Two years, seven months, and six days, her brain supplied. 
Not that Billie could pinpoint the exact moment she had fallen in love with Conrad. But she did know the exact moment she had realized she was in love with him, and her brain had sort of been in countdown mode ever since.
“True,” Billie conceded, brain finally chugging along as the caffeine began to sink in. “But we weren’t dating, Conrad. You were, in fact, dating Cade for about nine months prior to that kiss.” He winced, and she sighed. “I’m not trying to give you a hard time. I just want us to be on the same page.”
“We are,” he assured her, the words quiet as he stared at the rug.
“Do you actually want to move in together?” she asked him. She kept her tone as gentle as possible, but even though her brain was working again she was still shocked. “How long have you been thinking about this?”
He hesitated, and she held up a hand. “Wait. Sorry. We need to back up.”
“Okay,” he said. “Where do you want to start?”
She opened her mouth to speak and then closed it again. Her brain spun its wheels in mud going around and around the same points. Finally, she said, “I have no idea.” 
She laughed, putting a hand to her forehead as if holding her head together. His gaze was affectionate, and part of her wanted to crawl across the couch into his lap and kiss him senseless.
“Okay, first,” she said. “I really am happy you brought this up.”
His shoulders eased, and the crinkles she loved so much fanned out from the corners of his eyes. “Good.”
“Second,” she said. “How long have you been thinking about this?”
He laughed, smothering the sound behind his hand. “Awhile,” he admitted.
“What’s awhile? Two days? A week? Eighteen years?” she joked.
“A few weeks.”
Her jaw dropped open. “Weeks? We’ve only been dating a few weeks.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, avoiding her eyes as he took a sip of coffee.
“Hawkins,” she said. His eyes flicked to her before settling on his coffee again. “Talk to me.”
“We said it already, Billie. This just feels right. I’ve only been in one other relationship that felt this right, and you can’t tell me that this doesn’t feel different to you, too.”
Her chest ached at the reference to Nic, albeit vague and roundabout. They rarely talked about her anymore. Not because they were avoiding it, but because Nic had ceased being a part of their daily lives and thoughts.
Part of Billie hated that and railed against it, even as she knew it was completely natural. They had over five years’ worth of experiences since Nic’s death. Five years, half a decade, was such a long time. Longer in years than Nic and Conrad had been together. Nearly all of Gigi’s life. And half the length of time Billie had known Conrad. 
And, yet, a piece of Billie would always think of Conrad’s place as Nic’s house. He had chosen it with Nic in mind, for the two of them, and Nic had moved mountains to make sure they got it after letting it go the first time. And that thought triggered a cement wall to slam into place between Billie and Conrad on the couch.
“Why do we keep doing everything out of order?” Billie muttered.
“There isn’t really a proper order,” Conrad pointed out, sounding almost hurt by the words. “And who are we answering to?”
Nic.
“No,” Billie said quickly, despising that she had hurt him, however unintentional that hurt had been. “That’s not what I meant. I just meant…” She licked her lips and hesitated for a long minute before saying, “I don’t know what I meant.”
The words were murmured, almost too quiet for him to hear, and she knew it was a cop out. But she felt trapped by old insecurities and frozen—in place, in time, sitting on Nic’s couch, talking to Nic’s husband about how right their connection was.
And she knew that looking at it through that lens wasn’t the full story, just a distorted view of everything that had grown between them. And she also knew that others—people who hadn’t walked next to them through the past five years—would judge and talk and say things that she prayed Gigi never heard. 
And Billie had told herself that none of it mattered. She had spent a lifetime either ignoring, dodging, or combatting preconceived biases. She could do it here, too. She could do it for Conrad and Gigi and a chance at the life she so very much wanted for herself. 
But this… Nic’s house… She forced the thoughts to silence.
“There’s no pressure here, no timeline,” Conrad said, and she could feel that he didn’t believe her lie. “Like I said, I just wanted to open the dialogue.”
She nodded, the movement jerky. “I’m going to go take a shower,” she said and fled.
#
At brunch, Conrad, Billie, and Gigi’s server was a young woman who adored Gigi on sight. The feeling was clearly mutual as Gigi began babbling as soon as their server seated them. She made the server go over the entire specials list twice, asking Billie for explanations where words were new to her.
“What are grits?” Gigi asked.
“You’ve had grits, sweetie. You didn’t like them,” Billie said, eyes still on her menu. “They’re yellowish beige and creamy? Kind of cheesy.”
“Oh yeah!” Gigi said. “I don’t like grits.”
“No, you don’t,” Conrad said. “But you like waffles.”
“I love waffles,” Gigi said, addressing the server.
“What about those pecan praline pancakes?” the server said in a sweet voice. “How did those sound?”
Gigi looked at Conrad, who gave her a significant look. “That sounds like an option, Bubble.”
Then Gigi turned to Billie. “Do I like pralines?” she whispered, with big, earnest eyes. 
Out of the corner of her eye, Billie saw Conrad and the server exchange amused glances. Ignoring them, she leaned close to the little girl. “You love pralines.”
Gigi popped upright with a wide grin. “That sounds good!”
The server nodded and jotted it down on her order pad. Billie dropped her eyes back to the menu and asked, “Could we both do a glass of the mango orange juice?”
“Of course,” the server murmured.
“And coffee,” Conrad added.
Billie nodded absently as she scanned the menu. “Can you bring a side of the breakfast potatoes, too?” She looked up at Conrad and tilted her head towards Gigi. “Those pancakes are going to be so sweet.”
His brow furrowed. “Maybe the sausage instead. Or both. Both?”
Billie shrugged. “She can’t live on carbs and sugar alone.”
“I can’t?” Gigi asked.
“I mean, you could,” Conrad said, with a shrug. “But you wouldn’t be happy for long.”
“I think I’d be happy for a really long time,” Gigi told them all.
“You’d also be bouncing off the walls,” Billie said. “Gotta soak up that sugar somehow.”
“Let’s go with both,” Conrad said to the server.
The server nodded, writing as they spoke. When they trailed off, she waited, pen poised, and then glanced up when they remained silent. “And what can I get for you two?”
“Oh,” they both said, raising the menus again.
“They’re going to split things,” Gigi said in a resigned voice. “They always split things.”
The server nodded conspiratorially. “My moms do that, too. It’s a parent thing.”
Gigi sighed with great drama. Meanwhile, Billie’s blood ran cold, and her chest squeezed with longing. A lump rose in her throat as her eyes ran over the menu, desperately trying to choose something, and she took a sip from her water glass to cover the moment. 
“I’ll have the huevos con migas,” she heard Conrad say.
Billie loved huevos con migas. Why did he always do this to her? Why was he so sweet? Huevos con migas wasn’t his favorite. What was his favorite? None of the words seemed recognizable through the haze in her vision.
Billie felt Conrad’s eyes on her like a brand against her forehead, but she kept her gaze firmly on the menu. Finally, her eyes tripped over words that made sense to her addled mind.
“I’ll have the baked eggs,” she said, holding her and Gigi’s menus out to the server. 
“Absolutely,” the server said, still smiling easily with no idea of what a bomb she had just dropped on the table.
“Oh,” Billie said, her brow furrowing. “Wait. Can we do those without mushrooms?”
The server nodded. “No problem at all.”
“I hate mushrooms,” Conrad explained to the server, tone easy as he lounged back in his chair.
Billie’s cheeks heated. 
“How come Daddy gets to not eat vegetables?” Gigi asked. 
“Oh boy,” Conrad said, though he was grinning at his daughter, love written all over his face.
“I’ll be back with your coffee and juice in a minute,” the server said, trying to hide a smile.
“Thank you,” Conrad called after her, and Billie was amused to see the server blush.
Her heartrate was slowly returning to normal after the parents joke, which Conrad hadn’t refuted. Of course, neither had Billie. Gigi hadn’t been bothered. But the mistake had been made before when the three of them were together. Billie was too maternal with Gigi—and Gigi adored Billie too much—for it to never cross strangers’ minds.
Billie had boosted Gigi higher on her hip, resisting the urge to check the time on her phone. But the barista had been flirting with each of the customers as they reached his register—thrilling the blue-haired old biddies to no end—and the elongated conversations had resulted in an extreme amount of tips and Billie’s patience dying a thousand deaths. 
No one is in your way, she had told her brain for the thirteenth time since they had joined the end of the line. Everyone deserves coffee just as much as you.
“I’m so sorry to bother you, but your daughter is gorgeous,” the woman—old enough to be Billie’s grandmother, let alone Gigi’s—had said, wiggling her fingers at the one-year-old.
Gigi had hidden her sweet, tiny face against Billie’s neck, wet fingers sliding in and out of her mouth as the woman had continued to stare. Billie had frozen in place, smile brittle, and it had felt like her face would crack in half. Her brain had stalled out. 
Nic had been dead three months. Only three months and strangers had already assigned her daughter a new mother.
“She’s not mine,” Billie had said, voice flinty enough that the woman’s smile had wavered.
She doesn’t know, her brain had yelled at her in a panic.
Billie had never felt so grateful for all the years she had spent perfecting her poker face with the surface smile that never reached her eyes. She had let it smooth over her features, erasing the lines of tension around her eyes and mouth. And she had seen the woman’s posture loosen, smile coming back as if Billie had laid out the welcome mat.
“She’s my goddaughter,” Billie had finished. “We’re having a girls’ day.”
The woman had seemed even more taken with Gigi then. As if the idea of a godmother fostering a solo relationship with her goddaughter had been limited to a bygone era. And maybe it had been. To be fair, Billie had only taken Gigi solo once before Nic had died.
But Conrad had gone to a job interview that morning for a concierge service. His sitter had cancelled due to a stomach flu at the last minute. His father, Marshall, had been in Dubai—the lord only knew why this time; Billie had stopped keeping track—and Conrad had called her in a panic, spitting out all the words in a flurry over the phone line.
“I’ll be there in thirty minutes,” Billie had said, even though he had woken her from a deep sleep.
Silence had stretched on the other side of the phone, and Billie had frowned, about to ask if they had lost the connection. Then Conrad had cleared his throat. “Actually, I’m standing outside your door.”
As if to highlight that point, he had rung the apartment’s bell. Billie had blinked, wondering how he had gotten past the doorman and security guard of her high rise. All guests had to be announced. And then she had remembered: when she had added Nic’s name to the security clearance list, she had also added Conrad’s. At the time, she had never thought he would have cause to come to her apartment alone. But it had seemed better to be safe than sorry.
“If you laugh at my hair, I will kill you,” Billie had said. 
“You’re a hero,” she had heard him say as she hung up on him.
And, so, she had yanked off her bonnet, thrown on a robe, and met Conrad at the door. Without much more than a thank you, Conrad had shoved Gigi into Billie’s arms, told Billie the baby had eaten, tossed the diaper bag on the couch, squeezed Billie’s shoulder, kissed the baby, and run back out the door. Within ten seconds, Conrad had been gone, and Billie had been staring into Gigi’s happy eyes.
“Well,” Billie had said in the empty stillness of the apartment after he had gone. “I guess we’re going to have a ladies’ day, my sweet baby.”
Gigi had gurgled at her. Love had welled in Billie’s chest, and she had pressed a kiss to the little girl’s cheek. Then she had taken a surreptitious sniff of baby head and sighed in contentment.
“Let’s go do my hair, huh?” Billie had said to Gigi in an overly excited voice.
Gigi had giggled. The baby had remained thoroughly entertained by the ongoing commentary as Billie had used a heated round brush to smooth out her hair. Then Gigi had helped Billie pick out an outfit by pointing at random—completely unrelated—pieces of clothing. (Billie had sweet-talked Gigi into letting Billie wear a sundress instead.)
And that was how they had found themselves at the coffeeshop conveniently located in the ground floor retail space of Billie’s apartment building during the mid-morning, blue-hair rush.
The woman had turned to look over shoulder. “Maude,” she had said. “Maude, come here.”
Another older lady had come over. “Oh,” she had said on a gasp. “She’s beautiful.”
To be fair, Gigi had been rocking a bow the size of her face, thanks to her father. But Billie had still wondered if she should remind the women not to assume. And then she had decided she didn’t want the conversation to continue that long pre-coffee.
“Thank you,” Billie had said.
The first woman had nudged the other with her elbow. When Maude had glanced over in askance, the woman had said, “Godmother.”
“Oh, bless her,” Maude had said, grabbing at her chest. “You’re an angel.”
Billie—thoroughly uncomfortable—had licked her lips. Over the women’s shoulders, she had caught the barista’s eye, and he had nodded his head in recognition. Quickly counting the line as a group of women had moved to the side, she had found herself to be third from the front.
So close, Billie had thought to herself.
“It’s nothing,” Billie had said to them. “She’s my favorite little person.”
“Are you giving her parents a little time to themselves?” Maude had asked with a wink.
“Maude,” the first woman had said, scandalized. “You have no boundaries.” She had looked back at Billie. “She has no boundaries.”
Billie had been distracted by the pain that had suffused every inch of her, pumping through her veins. God how she wished she had been giving Nic and Conrad a day to themselves. She would have traded anything for that to be true. Instead, Conrad had been off trying to find a job that would allow him to single parent a one-year-old.
This time, she hadn’t been able to control the way her eyes welled up. The women’s faces had stiffened as they had studied her, and then they had both tilted their heads to the side with identical sympathetic expressions. And Billie had realized that, somehow, the women had known, had seen the pall of loss that hovered over every aspect of Billie’s life and visage, and known.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Maude had said in an impossibly soft voice. Her hand had reached out and squeezed Billie’s wrist. She had given Billie a stern look. “You’re going to be fine.”
The first woman—whose name Billie never did get—had added, “And so will she,” nodding at Gigi.
And Billie had found herself nodding in jerky agreement, though she would never be sure why, cupping a hand behind Gigi’s head and cuddling the little girl closer. The women had each silently patted her one more time, and then they had walked away, giving Billie the space she had so desperately needed to get herself back under control.
That had been the first time. The worst time, if she was being honest with herself, which Billie tried to be these days. Each subsequent mistake of maternity—as well meant as they all were—had been a little bit easier to handle.
But none of them had happened after she and Conrad had started dating. It was like a new first. And neither of them—not Conrad and not Gigi—had even reacted. Billie couldn’t figure out what to do with that, how to reconcile that against the guilt beating through her chest.
“So,” Conrad said, in that voice he had when he was being goofy. The one that cracked on a high note at the end of his sentences.
God Billie loved him.
“The whole Daddy hates vegetables trick,” Conrad finished. “I see through you, Giorgiana Grace.”
Billie watched Gigi try to fight her smile by staring at the table and avoiding looking at her father. 
“Besides, everybody knows that you can veto one vegetable in life,” Conrad said. “Mine is mushrooms.”
“That’s true,” Billie said. “Everyone gets one veto.”
“But you have to use it carefully,” Conrad told Gigi.
Billie nodded. “Because you only get one.”
All trace of amusement had been swept from Gigi’s face. Her serious eyes looked from Conrad to Billie and back again, clearly trying to figure out if they were messing with her. Billie and Conrad stared back at her, waiting for her next question.
Gigi’s eyes settled on Billie. “What’s your vegetable veto?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” Billie said, keeping her tone calm. “It’s a big decision.”
The server came back to the table with their coffee and juices. “Your food will be right out,” she said.
“Thank you,” Billie told her before turning to Gigi. “Have some of your juice, sweetie.”
Gigi obliged, though her face was still screwed up in concentration. She drank deeply from the small cup. “So, I only get one,” Gigi said to confirm.
Billie’s eyes flicked up to Conrad, looking at him from under her lashes in the hopes that Gigi wouldn’t notice. Those crinkles she loved were fanning out from the corners of his eyes.
“You don’t have to pick now,” Conrad told his daughter.
Gigi nodded with a contemplative expression. She frowned at the white linen tablecloth.
“You could choose mushrooms, too,” Billie said. 
Gigi shook her head. “I like mushrooms.”
“Do you, though?” Conrad asked.
Gigi glared at him. “Yes,” she said, firm. “Billie and I get mushrooms on pizza, and I like them.”
Conrad raised his eyebrows at Billie. Defiantly, she jerked her chin higher and shrugged one shoulder. “You aren’t there, and mushrooms are delicious. What’s the problem?”
“Are you teaching my daughter to like mushrooms?” Conrad asked in shock. “Betrayal.”
“And pesto,” Billie said.
Gigi’s face lit up. “I like pesto!”
“Seriously?” Conrad asked, still in shock. Billie knew he appreciated a good pesto, but it was an awful lot of green for a small child, so she understood the surprise.
Billie held onto the defiance for a few more moments and then deflated. “I let her dip it in ranch,” she admitted. “I really wanted pesto that night.”
Conrad burst into laughter that had the other restaurant patrons glancing at them in indulgent amusement. Conrad held up a hand in apology to the room before rubbing it down his face to physically wipe away his glee.
“What’s so funny?” Gigi asked.
“Nothing, sweetie,” Billie said. “Hey, didn’t you say you had homework this weekend?”
“Yeah,” Gigi said, slumping a little in her booster seat.
“Did you show Aunt Billie your math workbook?” Conrad asked.
“No,” Billie said. She glanced between them. “Why?”
“Because Common Core is going to blow your mind,” Conrad said. “And I kind of want to be there when you see it.”
Billie’s lips twitched. But before she could respond, the server was back with their food. 
Within thirty seconds of getting her giant platter of pancakes with its teeny tiny pitcher of the praline syrup, Gigi had spilled the syrup across the table and into Billie’s lap. Gigi’s big eyes widened to saucers, and Conrad quickly stood to mop up the mess with his napkin. Their server dashed away, returning quickly with a cup of water and another clean napkin.
“Here,” the server said, soaking the corner and handing it to Billie.
Billie smiled up at the young woman, taking the dampened cloth. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” 
She finished soaking up what she could with her own napkin. And then Billie began to dab at the pant leg with the wet corner. She didn’t think she was making any progress, but with everyone hovering and watching she felt like she had to try.
“I’m sorry, Billie,” Gigi said, bottom lip trembling.
Billie smiled gently, looking up from the syrup stain. Billie suspected it was the attention that had cued Gigi into the situation being bad. She hoped Gigi knew Billie would never be angry about an accident, but, again, everyone was hovering and watching with careful eyes. That was enough to let any little girl know mistakes had been made.
“Did you do it on purpose? Was it a personal attack against my pants?” Billie asked. “I knew it. You’ve always hated these pants.”
Gigi giggled. “I don’t hate your pants.”
“Are you sure?” Billie asked with exaggerated suspicion. She heard Conrad chuckle, and he stopped leaning over the table to sit back in his chair.
“I’m sure!” Gigi cried.
“Fine, fine. I believe you,” Billie said. “And it’s okay. It’s not a big deal, sweetie. Eat your pancakes before they get cold.”
“Eat your eggs, Billie,” Conrad countered.
“Eat your sausage, Daddy,” Gigi added, clearly believing they were just naming things on the table.
The server was still hovering with uncertainty, so Billie turned to her. “Could we get another teeny pitcher? I think she salvaged some of it. But…” Billie gestured at the table and her pants.
“Of course, I’ll get you a fresh napkin, too,” the server said. But when she stood, she hovered for a moment, shy. And then she said, “You have a wonderful family.”
Billie opened her mouth, determined to correct her this time, but Conrad said, “Thank you.”
And Billie squeezed her eyes shut as she fought back the flood of emotions. When she opened her eyes, he was teasing Gigi by pretending to steal her pancakes. As if the moment hadn’t happened. As if it was no big deal.
When he caught her watching him, he pushed his plate into the middle of the table with a smile, a silent invitation to dig in, and turned back to his daughter.
God Billie loved him.
#
Arriving home after brunch, Conrad unlocked the front door, and Gigi darted inside as hopped up on sugar as they had feared. She moved so fast that Billie barely saw Gigi hit the stairs.
“Upstairs, young lady,” Conrad said in a booming voice. “I want to hear the wheels of academia turning!”
“The wheels of academia?” Billie repeated as Gigi’s giggle echoed back down the stairs.
“She has homework,” Conrad said, as if that explained everything.
Affection swamped her chest, making her cheeks heat and her fingertips tingle. Conrad’s grin was bashful, but he winked at her as he held out a hand for her jacket. She ignored the outstretched fingers for a moment and stepped into his personal space, laying her hands against his chest and brushing her mouth against his.
He let her lead, responding with gentle brushes of his lips to hers. And when she eased away again, he let her go without chasing. 
“Thanks for brunch,” she whispered, an inch or two away from his mouth.
“Uh-huh,” he murmured, sounding a little dazed.
As she smiled up at him, though, he came back to himself. He kissed her forehead as he slid his hands over her collarbone and up under her jacket to slide it down her bare arms. She managed to silence the hum of pleasure that rose in her throat as his palms skimmed her skin.
When the material cleared her fingertips, he leaned past her to get a hanger from the coat closet behind her. Billie took advantage of the new position to kiss his neck gently.
“Behave yourself,” he said, a thread of humor in the low tone of his voice, despite the edge she could hear starting to inch in. “My daughter is upstairs and very much awake.”
“I’m not doing anything,” Billie said sweetly. 
His hands were busy putting the coat on the hangar behind her, one arm on either side of her body, and she took advantage again, pressing closer to his chest. And it really wasn’t her fault since his neck was right there, so, of course, she brushed her lips over the tender place where his neck met his shoulder.
“Definitely not doing anything,” he agreed.
She swallowed a giggle and let her hands slide from his chest over his ribs and down to curl around his waist. Conrad’s hands stopped with the rustling fabric, and she heard the quiet click of the metal hook of the hangar settling on the clothing rod. Then the door snicked shut behind her, and Conrad pushed her against it. A hand slid into her hair to cushion her head from the wooden door. But he didn’t pause, didn’t speak again, before his mouth captured hers in a rough, open-mouthed onslaught of lips and teeth and tongue.
Conrad tended towards gentle and romantic, taking each step in his seduction very slowly, very seriously. It had become almost a game to Billie, seeing if she could push him to his limit. 
She felt a surge of victory as one of his hands wrapped around the outside of her thigh and yanked it up to his hip. The move let him push even closer to her body, sealing them together, and her fingers convulsed, squeezing the flesh of his sides and the chambray button up that separated them.
The fingers in her hair tightened into a fist, and the sudden flash of pain, as small as it was, made her gasp against his mouth. Immediately, he broke the kiss as his fingers unclenched, and he rubbed her head where he had accidentally yanked at her scalp.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, eyes locked on hers. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she said, meaning it, knowing he would never hurt her on purpose.
She drew one hand up from his waist to wrap around the back of his neck and urge him closer, wanting his mouth back on hers more than she wanted air. He came willingly, and this kiss was gentler than the previous had been—but no less intense. His fingers, still on the outside of her thigh, tightened and squeezed. Her hand gently stroked the skin of his neck.
When he pulled back a second time, he nuzzled under her jaw and kissed the sensitive skin, sending tingles running through her body that curled her toes.
“We have to stop,” he said, murmuring the words into her skin.
She whimpered and dropped her head back against the door with a thunk. “I know.”
“Tonight,” he said. Then he swore under his breath. “That’s so many hours away.”
Billie couldn’t help but laugh at the dread in his voice. Conrad pulled back to look her in the eye, crinkles fanning out from the corners of his own.
“You think my pain is oh so funny, huh?”
“Your pain?” she repeated, incredulous. “What about my pain?”
“You started this,” he teased.
“Me?” she shrieked.
“Shh,” he hushed her, but his eyes were dancing. “Gigi’s going to hear you.”
They laughed, still pressed against the door and each other. As their laughter faded, they leaned their foreheads together, quietly breathing in each other’s air as their heartbeats settled back to their normal rhythms. With their bodies so tightly together, Billie could feel Conrad’s heart like it was her own.
After a few minutes of silence, Conrad said, “You should soak these.”
Billie glanced down to where his thumb was stroking the syrup stain on her thigh. “I think they’re a lost cause. They’re dry clean only.”
He swore under his breath. “I’m sorry.”
“They’re just pants,” Billie said, shrugging one shoulder. “No big deal.”
He hesitated before asking, “Do you need to go get more clothes for the week?”
He meant from her own home. And the reminder of their early morning conversation was like having cold water splashed on her. She didn’t mean to stiffen in his arms, but she did, and she knew he felt it.
“Yeah,” she murmured, tugging her thigh out of his hand and straightening. “I should actually… probably sleep there tonight. I have things I need to take care of.”
He let her go without protest and said, “Okay.” 
But he brushed a kiss against her cheek before stepping back away from her. Immediately, she felt cold, even in the rising humidity of Georgia summer.
#
Billie pushed her front door open and stepped into the entryway, setting the bag of takeout on the console table so that she could hang up her purse. The house was quiet, with a slight chill despite the eighty-degree evening, as if it had been closed up and shuttered for weeks without human life or even sunlight entering.
Billie felt that was unfair. She had slept there the night before and only left for work that morning.
“I was only gone eleven hours,” she snapped at the empty, judge-y air.
Feeling foolish, she snatched the bag of takeout off the console and marched into the dining room. Her table—the same one she had purchased for her downtown high-rise—sat lonely in the large space. The dining room was designed for a long table with at least eight chairs, like the one Conrad had at home. Instead, she had a small, circular table that fit four at a squeeze.
But her whole house was like that, really. She had purchased it only a few months before she and Conrad had begun dating and had procrastinated on decorating. The only rooms that felt lived in were her bedroom and the living room. The apartment had been a one-bedroom, and she hadn’t invested in anything new since she had arrived in the much larger house.
Even Gigi had teased Billie about it after she moved in. Conrad and his daughter had come over for dinner on Billie’s first night in the new house, and Gigi had spent most of the evening in the empty den—not just lightly furnished, but honest-to-Betsy empty—doing cartwheels and somersaults.
“Are you going to keep it empty forever?” Gigi had asked.
“Unlikely, sweetie,” Billie had said.
She and Conrad had been leaning against the jamb on either side of the door. 
“She’s going to have to furnish it eventually,” Conrad had said.
“What’s furnish?” Gigi had called to them, taking another tumbling course across the middle of the room.
“You know furnish,” Conrad had teased his daughter.
“It just means to put furniture in a place,” Billie had said.
Conrad had jabbed her lightly with his elbow. “You always ruin my fun.”
Billie had jabbed him back. “Don’t tease your daughter so much and maybe I won’t.”
Gigi had finished her cartwheels and run over to them. “Why don’t you have furniture?” Gigi had asked, slightly out of breath.
Billie had been impressed, though she hadn’t said so. If she had been the one tumbling around the den, she would have been dizzy as hell, but Gigi had seemed unfazed.
“I haven’t bought it yet,” Billie had said, wrinkling her nose in a slightly embarrassed expression.
“Right,” Gigi had said. “But why?”
Billie had opened her mouth to respond and then shut it again. She could have explained that furnishing a house took time and money, but Gigi already had a vague idea that Billie was rich—which she was—and Billie had suspected the little girl would dispute that argument. And Gigi would have been right to do so.
Billie had known for months that she was moving into the house. She had specifically timed it so that it coincided with the end of her apartment lease. There had been plenty of time for Billie to pick out rugs or a love seat to create a cozy sitting room. Or maybe some bookshelves and a desk to carve out an office space. Or she could pick out a flat screen and some folding seats to create a home theater.
So, why the hell don’t I have furniture? she had wondered to herself. What the hell is this room even going to be?
As her brain had swirled through all the potential rooms, none of which had felt like hers, Billie had felt her expression grow troubled. Conrad had straightened next to her.
“Why don’t we go eat?” Conrad had asked, intervening. He had held out a hand to Gigi, who took it without another word. Then he had glanced at Billie, with an overly concerned expression. “You do have a table, right?”
She had shoved his shoulder towards the dining room as Conrad and Gigi had laughed. “Move it, rascals.”
And, yet, nearly nine months later, Billie was still eating at a tiny table in a mostly empty home.
Billie liked to tell herself she had just been busy—which had been true the first few months she had lived there. The hospital had been swamped and understaffed due to the lack of funds, and then Billie had been devoting a large chunk of time helping Kit’s fundraising team drum up more money for Chastain. 
Another part of the truth, though, was that she and Conrad had started dating. And when they had started dating, Billie had started spending three or four nights a week at Conrad’s and that had very quickly morphed into five or six, sometimes seven. 
With a pang, Billie wondered what Gigi and Conrad were having for dinner. He had texted her, inviting her to join them, but she had begged off. She had told him she had reams of paperwork to get through that night, given a bus crash that had flooded the OR.
And it was true. But it wasn’t true enough that she should be hiding in her echoing dining room with its too small table instead of trading bites with Gigi of whatever Conrad had prepared.
Billie forced her thoughts back to the house. What was the point of having furniture when she was never there to use it? But it left Billie’s perfectly lovely house feeling like an empty, echoing cavern.
Conrad and Gigi’s felt like a home. Billie’s felt like a…well, a house.
And the other part of the truth, the part that Billie didn’t like to think about, was why she had bought the house.
The house had been an effort to create space in her life for the family she had finally admitted she wanted. The complicated part was that the family Billie wanted was Conrad and Gigi, and she had wanted them for a long time. But Billie had decided that she needed to accept that was impossible, which had been heartbreaking and a constant struggle, but one she knew she needed to work through to get to the other side. And she also knew that, eventually, she would open herself up to someone new. After all, Conrad had proven to her that she could. And she wanted it. She wanted love and a partner and maybe even a kid or two—though she was still on the fence about the last.
The purchase of the house had been an investment in a future that Billie hadn’t truly wanted at the time but that she had hoped she would grow into. Like a pair of pants or a bottle of wine that needed to age. 
So, of course Billie hadn’t wanted to furnish it. She had barely wanted to live there.
When she had begged off of dinner that afternoon, the bubble of three dots that indicated Conrad was typing back had appeared almost immediately. She had watched them blink on the screen, then disappear, then appear again, over and over for several minutes. She had stayed glued to the screen hoping against hope that whatever he said would have been enough to fix all of it. Which was unfair. And not his burden. 
When he still seemed to be struggling after a few minutes, she had typed out “I love you” and locked the phone, setting it aside. She hadn’t dared to look at it again until leaving for the night, and she had finally seen that he had responded with “I love you, too. Tomorrow?” And her heart had leapt into her throat, and she had written back “Yes” before she could talk herself out of it.
Stop thinking about Conrad and Gigi, Billie ordered herself and set about unpacking her takeout.
She wasn’t avoiding Conrad. She was avoiding the conversation they needed to have. But she missed him like she imagined it felt to miss air. Or maybe it was more like dehydration—slowly drying out, feeling every painful crack opening in her flesh the longer she went without him.
But she didn’t know how to say everything that was battering around in her mind. None of it felt fair for him to deal with. It wasn’t his job to remind her that Nic would be proud of her or that Nic would approve of her choices. That was Billie’s role, her job. She couldn’t ask him for that. 
Between the two of them, Conrad had lost more, so Billie needed to take less. That was just how it was.
You have to stop, her brain begged her. 
Stop what? Admitting the truth?
You didn’t steal anything, her brain screamed back.
Billie resisted the urge to throw her takeout containers across the room to silence the voices arguing in her mind. Instead, she pulled the foil package towards her and carefully opened it as the scents of garlic and warm bread wafted up to her nose.
That night, she had indulged in her comfort food favorites from Curry A-Go-Go downtown: spicy butter chicken and saag paneer, with an order of garlic naan. If she was spending another cold, lonely night at home, she was absolutely going to allow herself to reek of garlic.
The smell of garlic was going to come out her damn pores.
#
“Can we have pizza for dinner?” Gigi asked as she and Billie waited on the front porch for Conrad to unlock the door.
“Not tonight, sweetie,” Billie said, eyeing the bags of groceries in her and Conrad’s arms. Trying to cut off a potential tantrum—not that Gigi was prone to them, but still—she added, “But we could have a DIY pizza night this weekend?”
“What’s a DIY pizza night?” Gigi asked, tiny nose scrunched up.
“It’s a night where Dad gets a break from cooking,” Conrad said, pushing the door open and letting Gigi and Billie file inside in front of him.
“I’m too young to cook,” Gigi said. “You told me never to turn on the stove.”
Billie bit back a smile.
“You’re never too young to take over the chores,” Conrad told her, ignoring his daughter’s very valid point. 
Gigi rolled her eyes. “I’m a kid. You’re a dad. You’re supposed to cook,” she said, stressing the word.
“But pizza night is fun,” Billie told her, trailing after Gigi as the little girl skipped down the hallway to the open plan kitchen. “You get to roll out the dough and put all the toppings on. You can pick exactly what goes on your pizza.”
“Whatever I want?” Gigi asked as Billie set her bag of groceries on the island.
“Whatever you want,” Billie promised.
“Even if I want pineapple?”
“Sacrilege,” Conrad said, setting his own bag down next to Billie’s.
Billie raised an eyebrow at him. “Even pineapple, sweetie.” She leaned down to help the little girl take off her jean jacket and stage-whispered, “Don’t worry. I’ll work on him.” 
“Yay pizza night!” Gigi cried. “I’m gonna go tell Mr. Biggles.”
Billie watched as Conrad gazed after his daughter until she disappeared around the bend in the stairs.
“You guys can’t gang up on me with mushrooms,” Conrad said.
“You have to let that go,” Billie said, slanting him a smile. 
“I just can’t believe you would betray me with mushrooms on pizza.”
Billie shook out Gigi’s jacket to straighten the sleeves and walked over to him. “I promise,” she said, very seriously. “I will take your side on the mushrooms… if you let her have pineapple.”
“Blackmail,” he cried.
“Negotiations,” Billie countered.
His eyes danced at her, and Billie smirked at him before striding back down the hall. Pulling open the coat closet, she hung up Gigi’s jean jacket and then her own sweater coat. She took out a third hangar, intending to grab Conrad’s from him, but his voice interrupted her train of thought.
“I’ve been thinking about it since our first date,” Conrad said.
Billie turned to find him stalled out where the hallway opened onto the kitchen, watching her. His jacket was still on, despite the humidity beginning to rise in the Georgia morning air. 
“Thinking about what?” she asked. Then it clicked. “Oh.”
“How long have you been thinking about this?”
“Awhile.”
“What’s awhile? Two days? A week? Eighteen years?”
“A few weeks.”
He waited, eyes on her face, as she processed that information. He had given her space, she knew. She had been relieved when he didn’t push to restart the conversation when she had come back for dinner. But then a few days had become two weeks, and clearly he had gotten impatient.
“Our first date,” she said. Then again. “Our first date?”
He pulled off the light fabric jacket he preferred in the summer and early fall and closed the distance between them. She eased it out of his hand, sliding it onto the hangar, and shoving it in the closet with the others. His eyes were so tight on her face that she felt almost claustrophobic from the attention.
“Yes,” he said.
She swallowed against the lump in her throat. “I’m really confused.”
“I know. I just don’t know why,” he told her. “You know I love you. You’re here practically every night—”
“Only twice last week,” she interrupted, feeling defensive.
“And I hated that you were gone.” He paused to let that sink in, and then he pulled out the big guns. “So did Gigi.”
Billie winced. “She did?”
“Of course, she did.”
“We need to put away the groceries,” Billie said, brushing past him and trying not to cry. “We bought ice cream.”
“Yes,” Conrad said, following her back to the kitchen. “We. We bought ice cream.”
Her hand clenched on the side of the grocery bag. She couldn’t look at him.
“I wanted to open the dialogue,” Conrad said, sounding lost. “I didn’t want to scare you out of the house.”
“You didn’t,” she said, but the words came out as a whisper.
“Billie, talk to me,” he murmured.
But she couldn’t say this to him. The words throbbed in her cut-open chest.
“Is this about Nic?” he asked, in a carefully neutral tone.
Panic swept Billie into motion. She turned and started for the hallway, already visualizing the front door. “I just remembered that I…” But she couldn’t bring herself to lie to him either, so she found herself shaking her head, swallowing against the vise-like grip around her throat. “I can’t. I have to go.”
Conrad stepped into her path, hands held up in front of his body. “Billie.” She stilled, and he edged closer. “Please don’t run from me.”
“I’m not running from you,” she said.
“Then what?” he asked, and she heard an edge of frustration to his voice. “What are you running from?”
“Me? Maybe,” she said on a wet laugh. 
“You? I don’t understand.”
“I can’t say this to you,” she said, losing the war against the tears.
“Why can’t you talk to me about this?” he asked. “We talk about everything.”
“Because it’s not fair,” she said. “It’s not fair to say this to you.”
“Please talk to me. Let me help.”
Conrad’s fingers found her cheeks, thumbs brushing the tears away, only for new ones to replace the tears he had cleared. She slid her arms around his waist, burrowing her face into his chest. His warmth slipped through the cotton of his Henley, and his scent—pine and musk and Conrad and home—enveloped her. Her eyes were pouring, but, somehow, she stayed quiet, muffling the little sobs against his solidness.
“I want to,” she said into the cotton.
“What?” he murmured to her.
She pulled back, surprised when Conrad’s arms tightened for a split second before he controlled the reaction and loosened his grip. She knew she was a gross mess, had probably gotten snot all over his shirt, might even have it smeared under her nose. And all of that was less uncomfortable and humiliating and tragic than what she was about to say to him.
The words lodged in her throat. She gestured helplessly.
“Why don’t we sit?” he asked, letting go of her to point at the couch.
She nodded, hoping against hope that Gigi wouldn’t come barreling down the stairs and catch her like this. As soon as she was settled in the corner—her corner—Conrad dropped a kiss on top of her head.
“I’ll grab you some tissues,” he said and hurried out of the room.
She took the few moments he was gone to suck in a deep breath. In through the nose, hold, and out through the mouth, she reminded herself.
That was as far as she got before Conrad was back, tissue box in hand. She told herself the breathing had helped, and the urge to bolt for the front door had faded.
This time, take two on the conversation, when Conrad came to sit, he settled in right next to her. He aimed his torso to face her, one arm across the back of the couch.
Poised to grab her if she tried to run. 
Billie knew he would never. Conrad was a huge proponent of bodily autonomy. If she dashed to the front door, he would try to persuade her to stay, but he wouldn’t lay a finger on her even to stop her.
He set the tissue box in the scant inches between their thighs. His eyes were tight on her face. 
“Billie, is this about Nic?” She grimaced before she could control it. He nodded, once, decisively, and then he said, “Okay. I’m going to go first. Is that all right?”
The gesture she made as she wiped her face with tissue was caught somewhere between a shrug and a nod and a full-body shudder. But Conrad seemed to understand that what she meant was knock yourself outbecause he chuckled softly.
“We delayed facing this for so long that we were already on the same page before we ever made a move,” Conrad said. “So, I have to keep reminding myself that we’ve never actually talked about it.” He paused, considering. “Well… directly. Out loud. Each other anyway. I think we both talked to other people, if some of my recent conversations with A.J. meant what I think they mean.”
He was right, and he was right that they hadn’t said all of this out loud. Bits and pieces, but never all of it. 
They had each gone through their self-flagellation and dealt with their guilt silently in the shadows. By the time Conrad had leaned in for that first kiss, they had both been long at peace with the idea of moving forward together, which inevitably left Nic behind. Their hesitation had been centered in insecurity around how the other felt, if the other had found that same peace, as well as risking the friendship that had meant so much to both of them for five years. 
And, once they had kissed, cementing those feelings and answering those questions, they had each known exactly what the other thought without any words needing to be exchanged. So, they had never really talked about it.
Conrad took a deep breath. “When you were talking to Gigi that night, you said we were a family. I hadn’t thought about it that way. Not that I didn’t consider you family,” Conrad amended. “But it wasn’t a conscious thought, you know? You were just a part of our life. A fact of it. And then you said it out loud to Gigi, and I was like ‘Of course.’ It just fit.”
“We’re just right,” Billie said.
“Yes,” Conrad said. “We’re comfortable together. Completely, one hundred percent comfortable. I don’t want to assume anything about you and your past relationships, but I’ve never felt like that before. Like this before.”
Billie’s eyes shot to his face. Conrad was staring at his hands in his lap rather than at her. 
“It was different with Nic,” he said. “I loved her with everything in me. Every piece of me loved every piece of her.”
“I know,” Billie murmured.
“But I knew from the second I laid eyes on her that…” He shifted, hesitating to finish his sentence. 
“You wanted to be together,” Billie supplied, feeling rather prim even as she said it.
A grin flashed across his face. “That’s the PG version anyway,” he said, voice gravelly. “We weren’t… We didn’t know anything about each other, and that physical part—the sex part—was there from the beginning. Always there. It…complicates things. And we broke up and got back together so many times. And it was always exciting and wonderful, and she fit, too. She fit me. But even when I asked her to marry me, I was only ninety-five percent sure she was going to say yes.”
He laughed, but it was bitter, almost self-deprecating, and he cut it off to swallow hard. Billie felt her stomach twist in nervous anticipation. Somehow, she knew what was coming next, and she wanted to reach out and touch him, wanted to feel his warmth and his skin. Instead, she curled her fingers into fists around the tissues still in her hands.
“You,” he said, careful and tentative. “You were my friend first. Strictly platonic and someone I could rely on, could say anything to, without worrying you might disappear. And you became a part of me. I know that sounds crazy. But I meant it when I said we grew together over the last five years. Sometimes I think I know you better than I know myself. I know you in a way that I have never known another human being. I know how you’re going to react. I know how you think about things, how your brain approaches a problem. I know why you do the things you do, why you make the decisions you make, without you ever having to explain.”
He shook his head, and the motion looked a little rough. “And the fact that I missed how you felt about me is completely bonkers because, of course, I should have seen it. I think I was so scared that I was reading it all wrong, that I just… shut it out. But I’ve already told you that,” he said, cutting himself off with a sigh.
“I think Nic and I would have gotten here,” he said, gesturing between himself and Billie. “But we weren’t there yet. So, no, Billie, I have never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. It’s not better, it’s not more. It’s just—”
“Different,” she whispered. 
He raised his face to meet her eyes, clearly encouraged by her speaking, even if only one word. “And part of that comfort is because I saw you with Gigi, how pure and open and honest you are with her. No matter how she tests you, you never falter. And part of it is that we grew together and shaped each other,” he said. “We’re not the same people we were before Nic died. That changed us. But we also wouldn’t be the people we are now without each other.”
Billie nodded, tears starting to spill down her cheeks again. 
He rubbed his fingers over his forehead. “And all of that is to say that I understand why this house is a problem. We changed. But the house didn’t. So, you feel like you’re sliding into Nic’s life. Like you’re replacing her.”
Billie pressed a hand over her mouth so she wouldn’t sob loud enough for Gigi to hear.
“And it’s one thing to visit,” Conrad said, bravely forging ahead. “It’s another thing to move in.”
“I’m sorry,” Billie said, covering her face so that he couldn’t look at her. “I’m so sorry. It’s not fair.”
“What isn’t fair is you not talking to me about this,” Conrad said. “Billie, it’s me. This is us. We talk about everything.”
“Not everything,” she muttered. 
Against all odds, Conrad laughed. The sound was relieved, almost giddy. He eased closer to her on the couch, arm sliding behind her but not touching her.
“I’d like to change that,” he said. “Everything would be really, really good.”
“There are certain things I will never talk about with you,” she said, but her lips were curling up in the corners, just like he knew they would.
And as soon as he spotted the curls, Conrad’s arm moved from the couch back to wrap around her shoulders, pulling her closer into his heat. She felt a shudder run through him, and she realized he had been afraid. Her not talking to him, shutting him out, had terrified him and made him question his own confidence.
With all of that swirling through her mind, she said, “I don’t know how to get past this.”
“You don’t move in here,” Conrad said, as if it was the simplest decision in the world. 
The words were firm, and the world dropped out from under Billie. He was taking the invitation back. 
He didn’t want to live with you anymore, her brain hissed at her. Because he knows you’re right. You’re stealing Nic’s life. You’re the worst friend who has ever—
“Gigi and I can move in with you,” he said.
The voice cut off, and the world righted. A second later, a wave of shock swept through her as she fully registered what he had suggested.
“My house?” she asked.
“Why not?” he asked. “Gigi loves it there.”
“She loves to visit,” Billie pointed out. “Not to live. When she’s spent the night, she slept with me. She didn’t even want to go in the guest room.”
Conrad’s arm tightened around her, and she heard him swallow again. “Uh-huh.”
“And you know I bought that place in a hurry,” Billie said. “I barely even looked around the market. I took the first one that was nearby.”
“It’s a great house,” Conrad argued.
“Sure,” Billie said. “But this is Gigi’s home. She’s lived here her whole life.”
“True, but—”
“And the yard here is way better,” she said. “You even have a hot tub. I do not have a hot tub.”
“The hot tub can move,” Conrad pointed out. “I can’t move the yard, though.”
Billie made a complicated hand gesture that said See? My point exactly.
“But this place is small,” Conrad said, relaxing against the back of the couch. “Yours is bigger. If we decided to have more kids, where would we put them here?”
“Okay, we’re putting a pin in that,” Billie said in a dry voice. “Because that’s a whole different emotional conversation and a long way off if it happens at all. We could certainly find a new, different, third house option long before that happens. And, besides, selling my place would probably cover the cost of putting an addition on this one. And don’t you own that hillside? We could build up and maybe out off the back—” She paused, hand outstretched as she pointed out his windows, and took in his expression with suspicion. “What? Why are you grinning at me?”
He shrugged, still grinning like he had won the lottery. “I only ever wanted to open the dialogue.”
And Billie suddenly realized that she was quiet inside. The voice telling her she was stealing Nic’s life was gone. 
The fear wasn’t gone. The anxiety and guilt were still roiling in her stomach, and she wasn’t sure she would ever be ready to move into Conrad’s house. 
But the voice that had been berating her for two weeks was silent.
“How do you do that?” she asked him.
“Do what?” he asked, contentment on his face. He intertwined their fingers and brought her hand up to brush a kiss against the back.
“Make everything better,” she said.
His eyes squeezed shut like she had hit him, fingers tightening around hers. He sat like that for a moment, pressing her hand against his lips, his eyes closed to the world. And when he opened them again, they looked bruised. But not the bruised that Billie had become used to—the darkness of grief, of pain, of longing. All she saw in Conrad’s eyes was…gratitude and relief.
“I don’t know,” he said, voice gone gravelly again. “But I’m really glad I do. Honestly… you have no idea.”
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mermaidsirennikita · 1 month
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Ok I saw someone who's seen the screeners for season three get asked about the Francesca rumors and they said there was no indication Michael was a woman and when asked who they think is going to be the lead next season they said probably Fran because there's no set up for Benedict or Eloise.
We’ll see. I would be surprised if someone saw screeners for all 8 episodes for a two-part season at once and was willing to tell y’all everything you needed to know weeks before the first part of show came out, but that’s just me! I've seen people indicate that they received screeners for four episodes, or six episodes, but not all eight.
The rumors about Fran aren’t based on someone seeing screeners but someone allegedly hearing things from people closer to the show, as well as a casting call for a female character that is allegedly meant to be prominent in s4, with sex scenes included. You'd think that would either be Sophie or some other important female character, right? But this character's description centers on someone devilishly charming~ with a flirty exterior that masks a sensitive, soulful interior. Doesn't sound like Sophie.
Someone is lying, right? OR someone saw every episode except the last one or two, and this character only showed up in the final ep (which is what the genderbending rumors have indicated) and the person watching the screeners is making assumptions about where the unseen episodes will lead.
I’ll just say this: I…… don’t care if they do it or not. I mean, tbh, I find watching fan reactions far more entertaining than watching the show. If the idea of a genderflipped ANYONE bugs someone, I’d tell that someone to be emotionally prepared for that or whatever lmao because I think this show’s team profoundly dgaf about what book fans think. Which honestly? Fair. The issue is less changes and more…. Writing quality. To me, it's kind of irrelevant; if they give Fran a female love interest, that dramatically changes the plot of WHWW and it's basically their own thing, albeit with some WHWW framing influence (John dying and the new love being his relative). But if they kept Michael male, I'm sure the resulting storyline would be nothing like the book anyway. S1 is the only story that seems to have retained much of a resemblance to the book. I mean, s3 remains to be seen, but Colin wasn't out there trying to give Penelope the She's All That treatment in the book.
Either way. I like that book, and I'll always have that book, so to reiterate: do your own research if you wish, make your own predictions, I do not have a dog in this hunt. The only thing that would intrigue me would be if they genderflipped the story AND made it the central romance of s4. That would honestly surprise me, and I guess that it's the only thing that I'd really second guess. Not because I think the show wouldn't center a queer couple, necessarily, as a love story. I'd just, and I say this as someone who tries to read and review as many sapphic romance novels as I can, be surprised that this show would center a f/f pairing versus an m/m pairing. The lack of support for f/f compared to m/m across ALL media is like... notorious.
But if it's a subplot to a central m/f story--I could totally see that.
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veliseraptor · 1 year
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2022 Writing Stats
it's time for Fun With Numbers: Lise's Hobbies Edition, 2022!
So I keep a daily word count writing tracker so I can monitor my own writing pace/patterns, and sometimes it's fun to see what comes out of it at the end of a year. This data does not include writing I do on this blog answering asks/writing meta/etc.; it only includes any fiction I write (original or otherwise) and more serious/structured essay works. For the most part this tracker is meant to serve as a descriptive, not a prescriptive, tool - I use it to record rather than to set goals.
And now: the charts.
To start with, the basic graph of my daily word count in 2022:
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This one looks pretty similar to graphs for previous years, though it did trend a little lower than historically. However, the big outlier there in October is the highest single-day word count I've had since 2019, apparently. I wrote 5.2k on October 24th, which (looking back), wasn't even a travel day, just a random Monday, so I have no idea what was happening there. My best guess was that I was hit with a whale of an inspiration boost for some reason, but I have no recollection of what it was about.
A quick look at data distribution shows that there were 56 days in 2022 with a word count of 0 (i.e. 56 days where I wrote literally nothing; actually fewer than I expected, and fewer than in 2021 when there were 67 zero word days). Altogether I wrote 388,095 words in 2022, an increase over 2021's historic annual word count low of 386,721. (I am making fun of myself here.) My average word count per day in 2022 was 1,063 words, which is roughly on par with last year's (more on comparative daily averages later).
Looking more broadly at the patterns month over month:
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Obviously something happened in July and October where I lost my mind somehow, but I don't really know how to explain that. Neither beat out September 2021 as one of my most insane writing months on record (over 60k) or even approaching my all time high in November 2017 (63k), but still. They were probably the main factors in pulling the ultimate monthly average to just above 32,442 words, given the lows in June, November, and December. June was particularly dismal this year; it's the lowest word count in a month since I started tracking this in August 2016.
June was rough, you guys.
Now to compare 2022's final total word count to previous years overall...
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While continuing to track lower than earlier data (2017 and 2018 in particular), the trend for 2022 held close to 2021 and within a reasonable range of 2019 and 2020. 2020's boost likely came from the several weeks of unemployment there in the middle, tbqh, so I think I'm looking at what's probably an approximate of my "typical" output in a year at this point in my life (hovering around the 370-420k mark). The overall yearly average for these past six years is 454,899 words in a year; for the past three it's 409,647 words. All told, between 2017-2022 I recorded having written 2,729,334 words.
To look at seasonality I graphed out the month-by-month word count total, graphed by year (this one's probably hard to read):
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But I failed to note any significant deviation based on any particular month year over year. Total word count per month hovers around a median of 38,726 words per month.
Breaking it down more particularly to average daily word count per year, to see how my average pace day to day changed (or didn't) from year to year:
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As seen with the overall totals for the year, the daily average roughly lines up, with 2019, 2021, and 2022 forming a cohort of similar range after the apparent outliers of 2017 and 2018. (It does make me curious what data would look like, had I been gathering it, for earlier years, particularly when I was in college.)
Finally, for a completely unreadable chart that shows the daily word count graphed for every year, including a line for the average across all years:
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gorgeous. absolutely illegible, I love it. But it does arguably illustrate what I started this project to prove, which is the remarkably consistent up-and-down nature of my writing pace. Peaks and lows, at a slightly varying pace and with different levels for how high or how often those peaks show up, but it does tend to come back around.
You can see this more clearly when I cut the graph down to just show the line that averages out all six years:
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Now if only I could internalize that better and stop panicking about how I've lost the ability to write every time I spend a few days feeling sticky and slow. It's a goal, anyway.
That's all I've got. Thank you and I'm sorry I'm like this.
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number1mongrel · 2 years
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some various thoughts (read: complaints) about tiger and bunny season 2 part 2, under the cut for spoilers and just general bitching
So first and most obvious, is this meant to be the last season or not. None of the overarching stuff with Ouroboros has actually been dealt with, with Gregory Sunshine mentioning the three leaders of it, and then him being killed by the orders of them. But then on the other hand, Kotetsu retiring with Barnaby going off by himself with the two of them in the museum in the post-credits also gives off real ending vibes? Having their plaque list the years of them together as a team, implying it’s over for real. But on the OTHER other hand, there was no epilogue like there was in season 1. The last we see of everyone is them wandering off in their respective teams. If this was really the end wouldn’t we get like a timeskip to Kotetsu having a different job or something like that?
Besides that, in general I feel like the writers didn’t know what to do with Kotetsu and Barnaby’s relationship this season. They clearly don’t want to make them canon lovers, which fine whatever I didn’t expect them to anyway, but it also seems like without that they can’t find a way to progress their friendship any more than they already have. They’ve got nothing to do or work on. The ending should at least imply that they’re still going to be friends right? But they never even got to go get a drink together like had been built up the whole season! What’s the point of that if there’s no payoff?
Speaking of which, they seemed to just forget about Mattia. They’ve built him up as being more shipbait for Barnaby, but then don’t even go the distance with that like they did with Kotetsu in season 1. The last six episodes Mattia has absolutely nothing to do, and Barnaby doesn’t even mention him or go to see him at the end. So??
The sudden decline of Kotetsu’s power came on too suddenly. It’s been consistently 1 whole minute since the end of season 1 but now it just suddenly stopped for good with no buildup save for Yuri mentioning it once. Plus it happens like offscreen lol. I thought for sure this would be a role reversal of season 1, with Barnaby having to break Kotetsu out of it using the power of gay friendship or whatever. But nope. And also the whole buildup with Barnaby’s leg being an issue is just??? Suddenly not a problem anymore?? Because he uses Kotetsu’s suit???
There’s already a lot of good posts talking about how badly the writers treated Yuri so I’ll skip over him for now lol.
After being built up and foreshadowed SO much for all of season 2, Little Aurora was just a macguffin. She doesn’t do anything except almost get killed. Her power is never used for anything interesting, or to help the plot. She’s just. There.
This part of the season didn’t have as much focus on the other hero teams either. Subaru and Thomas were the only ones to get any real development, though Karina and Ryan did continue to be the best just like the first part of the season. There was much more plot-focus this part as opposed to character development, so it’s a shame that the plot didn’t end up leading up to much.
Also Kaede might as well have just not existed for these last 12 episodes lol. I kept thinking she was going to do something, especially after she remembered the things Kotetsu had said to her, but nope! Just stands there and does nothing.
Lastly, the villains of this arc are just a lot less compelling than all the previous villains. Gregory Sunshine is obnoxious, which I guess is fine bc that’s the point of him, but the other lady who I don’t even know the name of is just boring. You don’t find out her backstory until right before her death, and it doesn’t really make sense with her previous behavior anyway. Fugan and Mugan were a lot more sympathetic, and you genuinely felt for them. And Maverick had a direct connection to a main character, so he was much more threatening. Even Jake as the midseason boss of season 1 was a lot more entertaining to watch.
If we do get a season 3, then a lot of these complaints will be moot, and I’ll be happy for it. The fact that the ending of this season felt rushed won’t be as big of an issue. But if we DONT get a season 3, then honestly I feel like this is a downgrade as a finale compared to season 2 or the rising movie.
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frosnpls · 2 years
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hey ignore that i like, spent multiple hours hunting down an active blog of yours, have you seen the new dhmis and opinions if so? -bill bill
Hello I know you said to ignore it but where were you looking for me? I'm genuinely Very Curious about that -- but anyway though,
Oh My God.
To be honest getting to watch all of it was entirely worth the Six Year Wait. I've seen a few people saying the pacing was awkward or whatever but honestly I think it was perfect. It was everything it needed to be.
[SPOILERS FOR DON'T HUG ME I'M SCARED AHEAD I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DO A READ MORE ON MOBILE BUT YA'LL'VE BEEN WARNED. ALSO THIS POST IS JUST LIKE, REAL LONG. SORRY]
We got so much from it. I was NOT expecting the episodes to be twenty minute features and I did actually say when we started watching (my friend group had a lil watch party) "I wonder how they're going to fill that entire runtime?" But that did it so well. The decision to have the episodes expand the theme rather than just stay on one particular beat worked out so well and yet the episodes still stuck faithfully to the theme they were on and it was just, so well written.
I love that they've given Harry (I made a post about this the other day I'm being stubborn and still calling him Harry I don't CARE) so much more personality, like, they really built up to it in the YT series but they didn't get the chance to explore it as fully as I think most of us would have liked to see because the majority of it was in the last episode. The fact that he yells so often in the show is so fun and the parts where he gets annoyed about something trivial (like the fact he was looking forward to doing nothing or when he got jealous about not being dead) make me so happy like. He's a guy. He's a guy with thoughts and feelings he's REAL. The freakout when they were in the car and he so desperately wanted there to be something, anything else just like. Fucked me up. He knows it's not real and that life isn't meant to be like this and he needs out but it's the only life he HAS!!!
I loved the comedy in it! They've kept the brand of humour from the youtube series but it feels like, actually a little more unhinged in places?? Idk how to put into words ig, it feels different in a way that I can't really put my finger on. It's still very unexpected, but it's not as rooted in just. Violence and gore, I guess? Like it is but not in the same way. Idk. I don't know how to say it. The 'electric chair' joke made my partner LOSE IT and my friend group keeps saying "OK, Stop." at every comment that could be taken as even a SLIGHT insult. I think one of my favourite ones was the bit where Stain starts existing and Yellow goes "eurgh, claymation" sbdjfj
The plot overall was just. Encapsulating. They've kept the elements of mystery that made it work the first time around and turned it up to eleven. We were SCREAMING at the scene with the shredder. I'm begging they get a second season because you can't just do that and leave it there forever. That would be so much.
One thing in particular that I found interesting in episode 6 (aside from, y'know, everything) was the part where Yellow can see the puppeteers and they're dressed like the background. I mean obviously the implication is that they're always there but does that mean that the teachers are entirely just fabricated by someone? Again I mean the obvious answer is yes, by possibly Lesley, maybe even someone higher than her, but. Y'know. Why are they there???? Are the puppeteers aware they're in a show or is Lesley (or someone else) forcing them to do this as well?????? They saw that Yellow was looking. They know he knows. FOR THAT MATTER, the fact nobody ever noticed the staircase in the kitchen until Yellow gained higher consciousness and was able to see the kitchen from a different camera angle is genius. They've never seen the stairs because it's usually in the missing wall for the camera. Of course they haven't. That's their fourth wall.
OOH OOH OOH something ELSE I found interesting is how the train guy had Lesley's name written on him. When I first noticed that I assumed it was his name. I'm thinking about rewatching to see if the name pops up anywhere else and I just didn't notice it. She's such an intriguing character -- the idea being that she's. Essentially their god. She did all of this. At least the main cast. We're shown there's a floor even further than hers, and it blends in with the wall. The fact it opens on it's own would say to me that she knows it's there, but what if she doesn't?? Who's above her?? Did something create her in order for her to create them?? I NEED to see up there. I HAVE TO. And anyway, why is Yellow one of her favourites - and why does she let so many bad things happen to him if that's the case? In fact, why does she let so many bad things happen at all? Is this all just for her amusement? Is she being manipulated by someone else to be that way?
There's not a doll of her in the dollhouse, because assumedly from her perspective she is the higher being and doesn't need replacing. There's something above her but she doesn't know that. There's also not dolls of the big and bigger boys, though, despite their room still being in the house after her and Yellow fix things. So did she not make them? She has to be aware they're there. She can't just think there's two completely uninhabitated rooms in the house. I'm fascinated. It's literally all I can think about.
So in summary -- yeah it was alright I guess.
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finished s&b season 2, random thoughts below (spoilers obviously)
THE CROWS but esp wylan bc he's my son and I love him
not the biggest fan of how they ended up combining the two series together, the crows definitely deserve much more than this, and also I kind of hate how they're just pulling things out of both six of crows and crooked kingdom randomly with no regard for how the scenes reflected the characters' arcs
kaz and jordie though? TRAUMATIZING
idk why they included jesper's mom in there either, it was fun seeing him using his powers but the books do SO much better at realistically handling him overcoming his feelings of guilt and fear over an extended period of time with support from people he loves, rather than him suddenly gaining clarity because of a poison trip hallucination
also the last ep handled everything weirdly imo, like inej already hunting down slavers when that makes no sense for what her arc was in the books, and right after the "how will you have me" scene too (still iconic though)
wesper should've gotten their slowburn, but I will still happily replay their scenes until I feel something because I'm still a sucker for wesper being couply even if their relationship was super rushed
thank god for kit and jack doing the "just girls" scene during promo because the show's effectively eliminated any chance of that <3
ICE COURT ICE COURT ICE COURT ICE COURT >:D
JURDA PAREM
really really hope they handle wylan and van eck properly if we get a third season
overall I just think the writers either didn't fully understand the crows' personalities and stories and picked whatever was most popular within the book's fandom, which, yeah, you have to do some fan service, but this has zero regard for what people who've read the books actually wanted, and while I did enjoy watching, I really would've preferred their stories getting handled with care (even if it meant less screentime)
also can we stop with the whole pulling shit out of our asses that have nothing to do with adapting the books faithfully and don't even contribute to the plot of the show thank you
enough about the crows ahjsgjkhfdhf let's move on to shadow and bone
still despise alina with either mal or the darkling, I'm sorry but they both do not deserve her and she had better chemistry with nikolai in five minutes than those two ever did
tolya and tamar were some of my favorites unsurprisingly, they're iconic and I would do anything for them (and tamar getting her sapphic love story oh my god)
I also loved alina's interactions with the crew and basically anyone who wasn't mal or the darkling, she's thriving this season and I'm glad she's becoming her own person
nikolai was so well portrayed, really hope he gets his king of scars arc and we get to see more of him, but I think they should've kept in the bit where he was basically a volcra for a while (probabaly got cut because of budget or smth but it added so much to his character)
why would they kill off david (I'm half-holding onto the show/movie logic of not seeing the body yet but STILL) it's way too early in the overall plot of the book series, and I can't enjoy the show when they pull things from different points in the timeline without any reasoning behind it, it's just lazy and stupid. also genya did not deserve this much suffering in one season istfg
I skipped most of the darkling's scenes because that man pisses me off so much, but ben barnes did a good job at adding depth to him after baghra's death
speaking of baghra she's an a+ character, no notes
that's it I guess? def forgot some thoughts that I might add later, but yeah this season was fun and I had a good time, there's just some huge issues with how they adapted the books to the show, and their handling of all of the characters
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ladynoirist · 1 year
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I posted 5,448 times in 2022
That's 4,713 more posts than 2021!
207 posts created (4%)
5,241 posts reblogged (96%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@chatonnoir
@nothing-particularly-exciting
@gentil-minou
@ladyofthenoodle
@passionfruitbowls
I tagged 2,836 of my posts in 2022
Only 48% of my posts had no tags
#ml spoilers - 241 posts
#adrien agreste - 216 posts
#ladynoir - 204 posts
#spy x family - 175 posts
#lisays - 173 posts
#ml season 4 - 129 posts
#chat noir - 96 posts
#ml season 5 - 92 posts
#spy x family manga - 91 posts
#love square - 75 posts
Longest Tag: 140 characters
#they sent the showrunner death threats over their ship which was very blatantly meant to be a rebound and nothing else and lasted maybe 3 ep
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
it's a straight up miracle that ml is a coherent and enjoyable show despite jeremy zag doing his level best to literally blow it up to smithereens in every possible aspect with his incompetence and ego. i want to say i'm astounded that morons on here and twitter are twisting themselves into pretzels trying to pin the blame on thomas instead of jeremy, but this is honestly par for the course with the collective brain worms disease that infects social media and especially the saltier and whinier parts of this fandom. also it's painfully obvious to anyone with a brain that a good 75% of the drama that thomas "caused" on twitter with snark about chronology/releases/writing/censorship/abruptly shortened story arcs was him having to cover up for jeremy's idiocy and greed to keep himself from being fired from his own show, but then again expecting a functioning brain cell is too much from most of you i guess.
574 notes - Posted March 28, 2022
#4
adrien at the end of penalteam: now that's what you call a CAT-HAS-TROPHY!!!
594 notes - Posted February 12, 2022
#3
literally everything about this episode was so perfect but the fact that they even recreated my favorite blink-and-you-miss it detail
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and made it BETTER by including the guy's legs dangling from the ceiling in the same shot... i will never not be obsessed with this series
821 notes - Posted June 25, 2022
#2
saw a post earlier today saying that twilight's real name might be james, since anya was subject 007 and bond (and bondman) is bond and that would complete the set of references, and i'm pretty sure endo said yor's name is short for "yolanda," which i googled just now and one of the first examples of notable people on the wikipedia page was
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i think there might be something to this theory
839 notes - Posted June 24, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
ladybug refuses to dm chat noir as civilians for the longest time and she claims it's for identity and security reasons but actually it's because she subconsciously knows that if they can text outside their suits she would send him six hundred cat pics a day all captioned "this u"
4,893 notes - Posted March 27, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
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magiccoverssport · 2 years
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On Sue Bird
I woke up this morning to a Twitter video of Sue Bird in tears on a basketball court for the last time as a professional athlete. There's always hope in the WNBA playoffs, but I knew going to sleep last night that there was a good chance my favourite player would retire before I woke up--the risks of living in a much earlier timezone and a best-of-five playoff series I suppose.
It's probably hyperbole to say Sue Bird is my hero, but it's not too far off from how I feel, and have felt, for pretty much her entire career. It is wildly remarkable to me that someone I have admired and respected for so long has not only continued to perform at an incredibly high level but also proven to be just an all-around good person. I guess sometimes your idols don't dissapoint, even when they do leave the game.
I grew up in Connecticut, so I was destined to follow Sue's career as a kid in UCONN territory, where in the 90s and early 00s you would regularly see bumper stickers and signs reading: 'Welcome to Connecticut, Where Men are Men and Women are Champions'. I remember watching Sue beat the buzzer to defeat Notre Dame in the Big East Championship in 2001. After the game, my dad and I talked about what an amazing play it was, and the full context of that moment made the shot and the win an incredible achievement.
In the context of growing up a UCONN women's basketball fan, Sue fit the mold of visionary point guards that you expect to lead the programme, following Jennifer Rizzotti and setting a standard for the likes of Renee Montgomery, Crystal Dangerfield and now Paige Bueckers. As a fan, I was drawn to her playing style and quiet command of the court. I don't think I really thought about Sue Bird the person until I was older myself and starting to wrestle with my own questions of identity and personhood.
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One summer on a seasonal job before returning to college, I worked with a guy from Seattle, and since it doesn't take me long to natter on about women's sports, one day Sue Bird and her pro career with the Storm came up during a lunch break. I waxed poetic about what it was like watching her in CT, and he followed up with 'I have a buddy who plays on the Storm's practice team and he says she's gay'. I can't remember my specific outward reaction at the time (I'm guessing something like 'Huh, interesting' and then moving on), but I do remember that I'm not sure I could have explain my internal reaction to myself, let alone my co-worker pal. What he didn't realise was that I was starting to acknowledge my own queerness at the time, but it was something I was barely thinking about in my own head, let alone outloud. Yet something about hearing that Sue Bird might be gay lit some internal signal, tapping into some innate 'One of Us!' instincts, even if I didn't understand what it meant.
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When Sue did come out in 2017, I was in a position to completely understand the significance, not just to my out-adult-self, but to so many queer folks who crave representation and reassurance from our idols. Katie Barnes wrote a fantastic piece for ESPN at the time, that really captured how I felt, perhaps best by the last two paragraphs of their words:
"As a queer adult, I don't need childhood heroes to be out in order to feel affirmed in my identity. I didn't need to read Bird's thoughts on her sexuality to know that it is okay to be gay. Twenty-six-year-old Katie Barnes, who has been out for 10 years, does not need Sue Bird.
But these moments, these stories, these treasures that I have carried with me from Indiana to Minnesota to Ohio to Connecticut have melded together to create a time capsule for the child I used to be, the one who wanted nothing more than to hear their basketball hero say the words, "Me too.""
Anyway, thank you Sue. It's been a true joy to watch you and just exist as a fan of yours for most of my life.
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haruka-teno · 4 months
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2023 Reading Wrap-Up
01. How many books did you read this year?
I read 72, with about 12 of those being graphic novels/manga/something fairly short, BUT I read easily 2,000 pages of fic (probably much more lol) so I figure that counts as like 5 or 6 books too!
02. Did you reread anything? What?
I think I did a full re-read of Saga? I didn't log it, but I think I did lol. If not I at least reread the equivalent of the last few volumes to refresh my memory. I reread all of Captive Prince and the short stories because that's an absolute must. I reread Dark Rise to prepare for Dark Heir. And then I also kind of "reconnected" with a book from college that I had previously thought lost to time. It's called Sum: Forty Tales from the Afterlives and I had never read the whole thing but my friends and I always remembered a couple of the stories we'd read from it 15 years ago. Sadly those stories we remembered were actually pretty much the only memorable ones.
03. What were your top five books of the year?
It's hard to narrow it down to just five because I would say there were at least 10 to 12 that I really loved, but if I had to make a list I would say:
1) The Secret History - a polarizing book to say the least but it was exactly my brand
2) Six of Crows - by far the best Grishaverse book and probably one of the best YA books of all time in general
3) The Fifth Season - the way that people's minds work is just incredible. Like I think to have written this is such an achievement
4) Dark Heir - this series should have been adult and I don't think I'll ever feel NOT robbed by that, but this so far exceeded book 1 that I can't be too mad. Had me losing my mind
5) A Power Unbound - Ross on top 🫡
04. Did you discover any new authors that you love this year?
Technically Leigh Bardugo was new to me this year lmao so obviously I plan to read basically all of her books going forward. And Mother Donna Tartt. We will as always continue being loyal to Freya Marske, CS Pacat, and Mona Awad as well.
05. What genre did you read the most of?
Fantasy, romance, and literary with LGBT and YA as overlapping subgenres. No one is surprised.
06. Was there anything you meant to read, but never got to?
lol.
07. What was your average Goodreads rating? Does it seem accurate?
I have no idea how to find this on goodreads but my average on storygraph is 3.74 which is probably accurate. I rarely give books 5 stars, but I give plenty of 3s and 4s. I kind of want to have a higher score next year though because it'll mean I'll have been more discerning with what I choose and finish.
08. Did you meet any of your reading goals? Which ones?
I did and I didn't haha. I wanted to get to 75 and that didn't happen, and I also went through multiple slumps where I read next to nothing. The number doesn't matter so much as consistency so I want to try to work on that more. Pushing myself to read more and scroll less.
09. Did you get into any new genres?
I guess kind of? I read some non-fiction and a weird amount of short story collections, but none of it really stood out as being more enjoyable to me than just... the typical fiction that I like to read. I do have a few more short story collections I want to read this year as well as maybe trying to do a bit more non-fiction but I'm not going to be that pressed if I mainly stick with novels.
10. What was your favorite new release of the year?
Unlike certain among us I liked Hell Bent by Leigh Bardugo!! But the obvious answer is Dark Heir, followed closely by A Power Unbound.
11. What was your favorite book that has been out for a while, but you just now read?
Definitely The Secret History which has been out for like 30 years haha. To me this is the absolute peak and definition of "dark academia." Don't start calling some book """"dark academia"""" if some TSH shit isn't happening! But anyway, yeah, it's just so good: gorgeous prose, mostly vibes, characters who need to be studied extensively in a laboratory. I related too much to Richard Papen, it's actually sad!
12. Any books that disappointed you?
I genuinely hate to say this but the first book that came to mind as being disappointing while also not being actively disliked is Good Omens. I like the show a lot! And I know we like to jape and jest about British people. But my god, this was too British for me. It was so frustrating because the core idea is SO GOOD and so wildly imaginative, and at times it's really funny, and obviously Crowley and Aziraphale are the gems of it all, but so much of it WASN'T funny, like to the point of being aggressively UNfunny, even, and those sections would drag and drag. Way too little Crowley and Aziraphale, WAY too much of the little boy and his friends who I absolutely hated. I guess call me a rube or whatever but I vastly prefer the TV show 😔 Unrelated, but I was also wildly disappointed in the last Simon Snow book! I was also underwhelmed by Holly Black's The Stolen Heir and Tomie by Junji Ito.
13. What were your least favorite books of the year?
Grab a snack because I'm about to go off.
1) The Vegetarian by Han Kang - translated fiction is hit or miss with me. This is the year I realized I mostly do NOT fuck with Korean fiction, sadly. This book is touted as one of those kind of sad girl feminist novels but omggg from what I remember it was just really boring (I only finished because it was like 200 pages), repetitive, weird but not delightfully weird just like weird where the actions of the main character are nonsensical as is the behavior of the people around them, ZERO payoff at the end where one might feel a salient point had been made... If this is one of those "the girls that get it get it and the girls that don't don't" books then mark me down as not getting it
2) The Westing Game - genuinely why did I read this
3) Cursed Bunny - more translated Korean fiction, this time short stories. Again, just so gross at times but not Sayaka Murata gross, just like WHY?? gross. And when it wasn't gross it was boring and pointless!
4) Any Way the Wind Blows - I literally deserve financial compensation for completing this book. What the fuck was that ending? Why is Agatha tending goats after one of the worst lesbian romances ever put on paper. Why did Simon and Baz almost have sex 14 times and then stop all 14 times for the same reason and make virtually no progress with their relationship because of Simon's immaturity. Why was the Penelope plotline even happening. I'm kind of astounded by this one actually
5) My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness - this is an autobiographical manga and my reaction was all the worse because I thought this was going to be a total banger. It's a bestseller, I've been hearing about it for like 10 years, I've seen some relatable screencaps, it sounds perfect..... And then I read it and the writing itself kind of lost me/bored me at times, and it's actually not relatable in the slightest because the MC/author (I guess?) is sooo off-putting and the bulk of the book is about her visiting prostitutes. Color me naive but I thought this would be about like, meeting another woman and the tentative first steps taken with her, not GENUINELY diving into the sex industry, which I am absolutely repulsed by. Woof!
Honorable mention to A Strange and Stubborn Endurance for being Like That and having one of the most annoying protags I can remember in recent history.
14. What books do you want to finish before the year is over?
Well this ship has sailed and my goal was to finish all the books I had started so I could begin 2024 with a clean slate and it didn't happen 😔 But time is also an illusion.
15. Did you read any books that were nominated for or won awards this year (Booker, Women’s Prize, National Book Award, Pulitzer, Hugo, etc.)? What did you think of them?
None that I actively sought out. I believe The Fifth Season won the Hugo which is well-deserved but I don't know anything else off the top of my head.
16. What is the most over-hyped book you read this year?
Oh man, I can actually kind of go off on this one too lol. I read all of Heartstopper this year, and I'm sorry, it's just okay. I think if it had been on the shelves for me to read in like 2005 I would think more highly of it, both because I would have been reading it as a young teen and because then it might have been revolutionary for the time. In 2023 though it's far, far from the best piece of gay teen media (that would be Skam) and it's WILDLY overhyped. Legendborn by Tracy Deonn was so massively hyped up on booktok as being like THE BEST YA NOVEL EVER PUBLISHED and I'm kind of mystified, honestly. It was alright! And I could say even more but I'll leave off with Yellowface by R.F. Kuang. She constantly has her ass licked by basically everyone and I genuinely, genuinely don't get it. Yellowface is miles above Babel as far as enjoyability and I even thought it was quite funny at times, and got through it quickly, but this author writes flattttttt-ass characters and can't see past her own nose. Absolutely obsessed with the audience knowing how smart she is and hand-holding them to the very obvious points she's making. She's another one like Otessa Moshfegh where I kind of just hate read her stuff at this point lol.
17. Did any books surprise you with how good they were?
I think most of the books that I thought were good I had expected to be good, but two things come to mind. Early in the year I read a duology called Heated Rivalry and The Long Game and it's literally just highly sexual gay hockey fiction but it genuinely surprised me by how sweet it was and how much I loved the story. I actually bought physical copies even though they have horrible covers with Sexy Shirtless Guys on them lol. The other book is called A Touch of Jen which I was drawn to only because of the cover, I thought the description seemed kind of lame, and it doesn't have a very good goodreads rating either, but I loved reading it and thought it was hilarious.
18. How many books did you buy?
I couldn't even venture a guess to be honest. I have been much better of late about book buying (because now my money is going to dolls 😭), but I'd say during the year I probably accumulated at least 40.
19. Did you use your library?
Yes. I don't physically go into the library even though I'd like to, but in this house we do stan Libby, Hoopla, CloudLibrary etc.
20. What was your most anticipated release? Did it meet your expectations?
The usual suspects: Dark Heir and A Power Unbound, both of which met/exceeded expectations. I was begging for more Will/James, and it delivered, and I was hoping for more sexiness from Freya Marske as well as some good Edwin/Robin content and I was also very pleased with that :)
21. Did you participate in or watch any booklr, booktube, or book twitter drama?
I don't participate in drama but I definitely watch drama unfold, predominantly on tiktok. There were definitely plenty of stupid takes and notable events!
22. What’s the longest book you read?
Technically the longest page count was the complete Tomie comics at 742 pages but as far as regular books, it was Rule of Wolves by Leigh Bardugo at 608 pages.
23. What’s the fastest time it took you to read a book?
Technically I'm sure my shortest book was a volume of comics in like 20 minutes or whatever, but I'm going to say my record is reading Captive Prince, Prince's Gambit, Kings Rising, and the short story collection back to back over the course of about 3 or 4 days.
24. Did you DNF anything? Why?
I DNF'd one piece of nonfiction (Killers of the Flower Moon) and one novel (The Atlas Six) that I just wasn't in the mood to read when I started them but I'm going to give them both another chance at some point, or at least I'm planning to so far. There were definitely other books I sort-of started and then the library hold lapsed and they'll ostensibly be gotten to at some point, but I don't really count those as DNFs. The only notable DNF was this essay collection about horror movies from a queer perspective called It Came From the Closet. I was expecting this to be good even though I'm not a big fan of essay collections as a general rule, but omg....... Ahhhhhhhh!!!! Unsurprisingly Carmen Maria Machado's essay about Jennifer's Body was well-written (even if I personally love a lesbian Jennifer interpretation more than a bi one), but hers is the only one I really remember other than the Horrible One. I read about half of this book and a lot of the essays were just very mid (I know it's these people's real lives they were writing about! But yeah!) and almost all seemed only tangentially related to the specific horror movie they'd picked. There were also plenty of movies I'd never seen so even if there'd been appropriate context I wouldn't know it. The absolute last straw though was the essay that was supposedly about Hereditary. I could not tell you how the author connected all of this shit to Hereditary because AGAIN, none of the authors did a good job actually fitting their life within the context of the movies, but the story of his personal life was bad enough. He had married a girl I think while knowing he was gay? Which was definitely more acceptable historically than it is in like, a world where Hereditary exists?? I'm pretty sure this dude kissed a guy on his wedding day! and then proceeded to write about how he was secretly talking to men online SPECIFICALLY in the context of like fat fetish/weight gaining fetish communities, he himself was purposefully gaining weight because of this fetish and became enmeshed in online communities about it, I think was making fetish videos of himself and uploading them???? And then in the end he meets up with some guy he met online and I think we were supposed to think it was cute but I was 10000% on the wife's side, and as a fat woman and lesbian, I hope that guy kills himself. Anyway lol.
25. What reading goals do you have for next year?
I think my officially set goal is 75 books/25k pages. I'd like to meet that or exceed it. I very recently got into audiobooks after being a staunch hater (I still think they're very much a cheat code, and different from ACTUALLY reading!) so I think the goal is easily attainable, and my lowkeyyy goal is 100 books. My main goal though is to read every day and to not get into so many slumps: like just make reading a habit that I keep up with. More reading, less mindless scrolling and tiktok. And maybe DNFing more instead of forcing myself to finish a book I'm not liking just because it's short or I want "credit" for my time spent with it. Like reading more quality books. I'd also vaguely like to read some classics and more nonfiction.
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wordpimp · 7 months
Text
Gilgamesh
When you said we weren't alike I never really believed it.
Oh, but didn't you?
They were seeing what the hill could swallow. The fire in the hill, that the neighbors had built for the night. Pizza incense oven, habemus papam. Soft and warm wooden, burning and warming the air around it. A faint smell of bourbon. Ginger. Some thin crowd stood around, murmuring. A light gossip.
Music from a patio speaker, propped up against a table with snacks and coolers. Good music. Dust settled down, but you couldn't see it in the dark. There's always a fine dust that setttles, everywhere. You breathe it in, it settles inside you too.
Don't you feel excited by time, the day ahead, the distance you've gone?
Charlie nodded. I guess so. A bonfire was good at least. Standing or sitting, a drink to occupy the mind from being occupied with other things. She had a lot on her mind lately. Couldn't say much about the days, but the ends of them, that was nice.
Dani brought an apple with her.
Red delicious, purple too. Coke bottle icee, it looked erotic in the night. Comely.
Charlie had a doll, it slept with her, it had for years, but she was ready to let it go.
The doll represented a cousin, at least she thought it did.
Would you like to see it?
She did not want to see it. Slime of varnish, wet decay, brown fungus. She walked with him into the woods though. It would've been rude not to. When they reached the mossy bank it was already dark so there wasn't much to see. Her memory of that summer was vague.
Things that people often did when they were eight, or ten, or six. And then much later. Desire to be certain, to derive some knowledge from a situation, bc it turned them against themselves, or it was primal, or they didn't laugh enough, or it was too much for them to hide for so long.
Shit I told my therapist abt this didn't I? He can't fix it. There's nothing to fix. I'm fine. Aren't we fine Dani?
Dani thought that they probably were. It wasn't the end of the world that people thought it would be. This was a party. There was a ritual aspect, to be sure, but homegrown. Fiery banner in a cul de sac, block party, gathering beacon of last days of summer, autumn then november. First it would be autumn then november. It was traditional as it got. She guessed that some priest was graying in another time and place, that they would bless the proceedings. Scary sacrifice.
Dani and Charlie both had baubles and relics hidden under their beds and in drawers with their panties and magazines, porno tapes they had watched with boys, queer ones especially. Charlie's first boyfriend had been into that. Same sex, group sex, any sex.
They each picked an item to bring for the party. A kind of going away party. Goodbye summer, a horror themed season. Witching season.
Dani rubbed her apple. It was warm in her pocket. Cashmere nest, red egg wet fruit. She hadn't meant to bring it actually. It was an odd reaction to an odd request. But she needed something to burn, something to give away. Propitiate the flames make them dance. The apple would do that, if heated up sufficiently. Blue and green in the flame. She grabbed it instinctively from the pink basket on the kitchen counter. Pocketed, exact change, cab fare.
Charlie had a name for her doll, she called it cousin baby, but in the dark tonight, she called it robert, after her cousin who went into the woods with her when they were ten. He was dead now. He would've been twenty-five this year, same age as her.
Around the fire the murmurs of others with their offerings. Rabbits and owls, panthers and goats, pigs and deer. No human face tonight. Another rule.
Dani was a deer, a mule deer. Charlie was a wolf.
Bloodthirsty, prone to violence, solitary, sweet docile tender innocent. A pig oinked, a boy dressed as a pony twirled up and down a carousel. Held hands.
Here, grab a sparkler.
Charlie pulled one of the thin metal rods from the cardboard package, handing it to Dani. Then she grabbed another for herself. They lit the sparkler ends and pulled their lawn chairs next to the fire.
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