Oh joy, there’s something with claws scrambling around in the ceiling again. I think that means it’s officially summer.
Efforts to write the next chapter of “Beneath the Sanguine Moon” are currently going like this:
Me: “Jack, you are at point A. By the end of the chapter you must be at Point B. To get there, you can take route C, D, E, or F. Which’ll it be?”
Jack: “All these choices suck, so I’m just gonna do my own thing until you figure out something better. Tootles!”
….yeaaaah, that’s why this is taking a while. ><
Whoever said that characters are under their writer’s control was a lucky goddamn bastard. All my characters are doing that to me.
Lector: Okay, Pip, from now till the end of the night, you can do whatever you want as long as we establish plot points A and B.
Pip: Or I could just play with the nightmares and skip that entirely.
Pitch: Why am I even putting up with Sanderson being in my lair again?
Beating my head against a wall has never looked so appealing.
Tim’s file - such a lovely, misleading thing it is - lists him as the child of an alpha and an omega, and has him tagged as a likely beta once he hits puberty. Which is true, but people tend to bring into it assumptions that make introducing his parents interesting.
“No, I don’t see why my son should have to take that class when he’s already knows more than the sub-standard lackwit you have teaching it,” Mom snaps, teeth bared and eyes bright with rage. Tim is sitting behind her with Dad. Far, far behind her, because Mom’s got an even worse temper than most alphas.
Dad hides his smile, finger-combing Tim’s hair into order. “isn’t she magnificent?” he asks quietly. Tim nods. By now, Mom’s bullied the school secretary into calling the principal over.
“Half-wits, all of them. Ugh, why am I surrounded by incompetents?” Mom complains as she herds Tim and Dad out of the office, Tim’s withdrawal papers in hand.
“Mostly because the competent ones know to run when you’re coming, dear heart,” Dad says. Mom preens, and Tim pulls a face. Parents flirting, gross.
“Does this mean I’m being homeschooled?” Tim asks, trying to distract them. Mom and Dad glance at one another.
“For a little while, maybe. I can take some time off until we find a new school for you,” Dad says. Which is another odd thing about his family. Most bonded omegas aren’t employed unless it’s absolutely necessary. But Dad works at Drake Industries - co-manages it with Mom even - because he likes it.
They get odd looks from other passerbys as they walk, but that’s nothing new. Only seven percent of women are identified alphas, and Gotham’s hardly a bastion of progressive thought. Most female alphas in Gotham bite their tongues and pass under the radar as betas instead.
Mom doesn’t ‘have time for that gender-essentialist bullcrap,’ as she puts it. It probably doesn’t help that male alphas have a tendency to make passes at Dad, because they won’t recognize a woman’s claim.
Tim’s probably seen more people have the shit kicked out of them than most nine year olds, is what he’s saying. Mom gets tetchy when other alphas start sniffing around Dad.
His family is awesome, and Tim wouldn’t have it any other way
Best response ever to a villain goes to Lois Lane
And until September, all I have to worry about is volunteering down at the farm in Volo, my twenty hours a week of work for Eddy, and Aikido on mondays. The rest of the time is mine to garden, write, and draw as much as I want.
Life, to risk jinxing it, is good.
I made a series of Calming Bunnies (based off of the Calming Manatee meme) for my friend Gab, who isn’t a huge fan of manatees!
We can always use more bunnies, I think.
This is the best.
illegal immigrants? you mean white people
except that white people didn’t immigrate into the united states… they funded the united states. you can’t illegally immigrate into a society you created.
did you actually just say white people created society in america
This is fic for a book I’m almost positive nobody following me has read: Frostflower and Thorn, by Phyllis Ann Karr. It’s about a world a few centuries post-apocalypse. Specifically, about a sorceress named Frostflower, a female warrior named Thorn, and Thorn/Frostflower’s newborn baby. Thorn bore it, Frostflower’s raising it. I’m only a quarter of the way in, and the les-yay is strong in this one. It makes me so, so happy.
“Tell me about my mother,” Starwind says, when he’s a boy of nearly seven. Frostflower’s breath catches in her throat, harsh grief swamping her at the mention.
“Your mother?” she asks, wiping her hands of the worn cotton of her apron. “Wind, where did you even hear of her?”
“Ironcreek told me that you came back with me and a body, and you buried her beneath the tangle trees,” Starwind says, looking up at her with Thorn’s twilight-colored eyes. “You didn’t buy me, did you?”
Frostflower laughs, instead of crying as she wished to. “Oh, Wind. I did buy you from her. Thorn never wanted to be a mother. But she was a good friend. The best.”
Starwind nods, looking up at her hungrily. “Mother’s name was Thorn,” he repeats, rolling the name on his tongue. Frostflower smiles weakly.
“Her name was Thorn, and she was a warrior of the common sort. She drank and she whored and she gambled, and she’d have had a borter take you out of her if I hadn’t offered her another way.” Frostflower fall silent. The rest seems too raw and too intimate to share. How could she tell her son his mother had thought she was destined for the Hellbog, and she sacrificed her life to save them anyway? The words she could not say choked her.
She had scars all up and down her body, and she cursed every other word and she had a temper like sparks falling on straw. She believed in the farmer-priest’s religion, and it twisted her up inside, but she was as kind and just and principled as any woman could be after such upbringing. She was so brave and she was the best friend I’d ever had, and I’d have given up my powers for her.
I love her, and I think she loved me.
Frostflower swallows back her tears. She is not a very good sorceress anymore, she thinks. She lies too much with silence.
I have my new driver’s license, and my replacement debit card should be here next week, so there’s that. On the other hand, I’ve apparently been getting bills for a card that’s closed, and the bank has no clue why, so…
On other fronts, I’ve got a five page paper to write, plus a crop profile on runner beans, four computer art projects to finish, and a oversized pastel landscape to complete. Finals, ugh.
Why doesn’t life have a ‘play at half-speed’ option? That’d be so helpful.
a musical entitled “may, senior year” filled with hits such as:
“i never knew you wanted to join the military”
Mishaps in Matrimony drabbles
Verse: Mishaps in Matrimony
Pairing: Dick/Jason/Tim/Damian, haha
“Did you tell your mother,...
“you shouldn’t be depressed, people have it worse than you”
finally, after years of searching, the person with the worst...
ra’s/tim, henna or any other kind of body...
Meetings and Motherhood
Fandom: DC universe
Summary: Due to Luthor’s horrible planning, Janet has to drag Tim to a business meeting....