"Carlos, if you could just pause your experiment for a second--if you could only hear me out, hear my hypothesis! I think once you understand the science of the situation, you--"
Carlos opened the door. He was crying. She had never seen him cry.
He was overwhelmed and unsure of how to express his emotions, since he usually only did so in carefully worded sentences, not with water from his body.
"The science of the situation?" he snarled. "That Otherworld. I was trapped there, Nilanjana. I couldn't see Cecil for ten lonely years. I was kept away from the people I love, in that desolate place where you never get hungry and you never have to drink water and so you never live. It is a place that devours. It is a place that is empty. That is the science of the situation, and I study it so I can fix it. Only I can do that. Only these experiments can do that. I'm sorry, Nilanjana; I'm not going to stop so you can tell me what science is."
🫠
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Haven't been able to draw a whole lot, but pls accept a very late phasmo doodle
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yeehaw just wrote over 3k and i can't publish Any of it without miles of fantasy au context
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I know it's kind of the point, the passions of man versus the indifferent cruelty of nature, but it is amazing to me how much the Whale in Moby Dick just does not give a fuck.
The whole book sets it up as this malicious, intelligent demon that has it out for humans and wants to kill them all, and then when the Pequod finally catches up to it it's just... puttering along, enjoying the weather, having a grand old time. Even after they attack it and it destroys one of the boats it just kind of sits in the water nearby swatting at debris with its tail and ignoring them. Even at the end, the final destruction of the ship and deaths of all the crew, it kind of just has this attitude of like. Hey. You. I thought I told you to fuck off. Like -
Ahab: From Hell's heart I stab at thee!
The Whale: Oh, not you again. 🙄
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smile for the camera (and keep your fingers crossed)
Chapter 2: Interrogations, Interviews, and Impromptu Not-A-Dates
So instead of the food trucks, he’d bought a sandwich and a soda from the convenience store (and maybe a magazine too, shut up, he needs the physical proof that yes, he had in fact kissed Klavier Gavin). He’d also bought a pair of nondescript sunglasses and a baseball hat, in the hopes that he’d have a good enough disguise to head back to the office without being recognized.
What Apollo Justice had failed to account for, however, was the fact that unlike in the movies, paparazzi aren’t stupid.
Well. Whoops! Didn't mean to take so long to post this chapter, but...here we are, more than a whole year later. Hopefully the chapter's interesting enough to make up for it?
In all seriousness, thank you so much to everyone who's read, commented, and reminded me that there are people out there waiting for the continuation of the story. Somehow I thought I'd already posted the start of this chapter?? Maybe I just thought about doing it so much that I thought it had happened already.
But anyway...I'm going to make sure the gap between this chapter and the next is significantly shorter--you guys deserve to not have to wait for annual fic updates, lmao
As ever, huge thanks to @cubedmango for providing some incredible spot art! And for understanding the "oops, what do you mean i didn't post that?" moment I went through like two weeks ago.
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Coming to the realization that much of my favorite dragon media, both growing up and recently discovered, had some stealthily normalized queer rep, including but not limited to:
Memoirs of Lady Trent (some genderfluidity, an asexual character who experiments to determine for sure)
Temeraire (a canon queer couple and some Strong vibes for another) (if you know you know)
Seraphina (trans character, gay saints, a fairly central queer relationship)
Priory of the Orange Tree and its prequel (lesbians all the way down, queer rep all over the place)
Eon/a (technically my first introduction to the very concept of being transgender)
So now here I am, politely staring down Paolini, raising a gnarled finger and intoning in a dread voice, “YOURS NEXT—”
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Okay so a strange and stubborn endurance is maybe not the best book I've ever read peak high literature or whatever, but I'm only 1/3 of the way through and I've cried multiple times and been beset with that distinctive grief of a book really getting /me/. The title intrigued me and oh oh is it very much the heart of the book. A broken creature of odd endurance despite it all.
And I think it's because it manages to combine a serious emotional plot of assault/mental illness/homophobia/recovery with a fantasy intrigue setting. Most books do one or the other. You've got teen contemporary YA dealing with heavy issues but with teens in highschool, but I am 27 and tired of teen protags, or you've got intricately plotted fantasy masterpieces. This is neither. But it puts that recovery front and center within a larger fantasy setting and I cannot stress how much I need and crave that and how hard it is to find done even semi-decently.
Velasin makes me want to throw up from crying. His fears and shames, his desperation, and love, and nonexistent self esteem. His humour. His loyalty to his only friend. His Whole Deal with his father. Every chapter just brings a new. Huh. Recognition of the self through the other. Gut punch.
Idek what I'm saying. It's not the most insanely perfect book in the world. But it's doing something For Me that objectively better books don't. Idk. Idk. All I know is that I'm sick with weeping from it.
Like absolutely mind the author's note warning at the beginning, because it can be heavy, but it's never graphic or gratuitous. And it IS focused on recovery, just again, against a fantasy plot.
I really dk I'm rambling now but it's just. Oh. Oh. Maybe I needed this. Everything lately has felt either too lighthearted to be genuine or too desperately dark for me to handle. And I can only reread the cemeteries of amalo so many times. I eventually need other things that are both hopeful and dark, gutwrenching and reflective of the self, without grimdark. (Not that this is on the same level but who can compare to thara celehar To Me)
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now why did dazai say here he wanted to ask chuuya sth 🧐🧐...? WHAT WAS THE QUESTION SUPPOSED TO BE?! like I know it'd be probably another joke but what would he say hadn't he made that joke...
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hey so. was anyone gonna tell me that last year I wrote *the* most tender lonan & harrison moment in feeding habits ORRRRR (harrison cuts lonan’s hair):
On the floor, Harrison eases Lonan’s skull over his knee and mimics what Suzanna does for him every other month: a modest section between his index and middle finger, then a tentative snip. A section. A snip. As he cuts, chips of Lonan’s hair falling to the tile, he notes the geography of Lonan’s skull, rough with uneven hair. He’s so focused on taming it all to one length that at first, he doesn’t notice when Lonan flushes crimson all the way to his throat. How he blinks rapidly to dislodge the tears netting his eyelashes, and eventually covers his face with his hands. Harrison snips again, and Lonan makes a strangled noise, like an animal’s cry. Tentative at first, like a short clearing of the throat, and then ugly, like a caribou dying. Harrison clenches his jaw, knowing it’ll only be harder to cut Lonan’s hair if he too starts to cry, but that doesn’t matter. Within seconds, his eyes swell, and as he snips, hair scattering like both of their old lives dissipating, he smooths his free thumb over Lonan’s forehead. He doesn’t know what else to do. How to imbue comfort. He’s not like Suzanna who understands that sometimes a person just needs another person to appear with a plate of papas, or a rented chick flick, and just be there. Within minutes, Lonan’s hair is at a new normal: shorter than it’s been in years, but in shape to regrow. Harrison sets the scissors onto the tile. He cups Lonan’s cheek with his palm, brings his forehead so close to his that they nearly touch. And he’s there. A bamboo stake waiting for a strand of ivy to give it new purpose.
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fuck whatever Ana and Christian have going on, Taylor, the chauffeur/servant guy whose just always there being super polite just minding his business doing his job driving them around and arranging things is the real star of this series
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I JUST FINISHED REREADING LEGENDBORN AND STARTED BLOODMARKED LAST NIGHT AND COME ON HERE AND YOU'RE ALSO READING IT 😨😨 WE SYNCED
CLOWN TO CLOWN COMMUNICATION. OUR UNBREAKABLE BOND
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*taps on mic* hey i started red white & royal blue for the first time, anything yall want to say about this? *passes mic* 🎤
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hi, what is tai sui about? ive found the translations but no summaries or anything
OH BOY WOULD I LOVE TO TELL YOU ALL ABOUT IT
the summary is
If I had a choice, I would only want to be a little insect in the mundane dust, born in confusion, dying in mediocrity, never seeing the light of day beneath the fog of Jinping City.
Better than taking this wrong road to heaven.
which, baller summary, and it says a lot more than i originally thought it does, but it doesn't really tell you much about what tai sui is actually about. so.
it's a deconstruction of the xianxia genre with fantastic, detailed worldbuilding, and takes place in this wonderful blend of high fantasy and steampunk. it speaks a lot to the implications of the cultivation genre on class inequality and environmentalism, and it has a lot of really interesting commentary on the relationship between mortals and immortals and the cost of immortality. the most simple summary i can give of the plot is that it follows xi ping on his journey from your average, deeply insufferable (but incredibly delightful) noble brat, to becoming something like a god.
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it's so sad grif has such a bland first name. dexter doesnt have ANY swag to it
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