I Talk A Lot About Using Your Local Library, And As A Person With A Fantastic Local Library, I Am Privileged

I love this so much, they sound so sweet together.

It lives in my head rent free that Ari tells Edward no because he feels like things are too fast and it's scaring him. And Edward isn't angry, he isn't upset. He goes okay can we cuddle I loved it when you cuddled me. And Ari is like YES i would like to cuddle actually.

And like from then on Ari gets so much firmer and more articulate when he's upset and uncomfortable because Edward is there and Edward has his back and isn't going to be angry at him for asserting the things he needs.

Omg y'all are cooking with your responses. /pos

Hey, I made a survey for the recent writing project I am working on. If you want, feel free to fill it out. The questions may feel a bit random at times, but I promise they are relevant. And may have something to do with kissable object head people.

Google Docs

Dating Game Satisfaction Survey

For a writing project of mine, I was curious how people felt about the dating options in games that let you romance the characters. Let me b

Minors please do not interact

Ooo I am so intrigued so far! I wonder why Jesse and Lira feel connected. Are they soulmates, did they know each other in a past life? I also wonder who that man was. So excited to read more!

Chapter 1 - Jesse survived

For most of her childhood, Jesse lived in what could be called a shed. The inside was cramped, barely enough for her mother and herself to move around. Drafts always managed to seep through the cracks in the walls or the gaps around the windows by the moment. A narrow bed was pushed against the wall opposite the wood burning stove, just big enough for the two of them to sleep in together. Despite all this, Jesse’s mother made sure her daughter knew she was doing her best to add as much comfort as possible to their living conditions, there were a few hand-me-downs and scraps of fabric adding some semblance of privacy and color which the two of them appreciated.

The outside was a mess of unkempt grass, some discarded tech, and a broken down truck. Nothing to write home about but it was their land, and she knew every inch. Mom would tell her stories of the past when they could afford this small patch of peace, the freedom it instilled in them before corporations swarmed the suburbs with towering, sterile buildings. This was a place of calm resilience for Jesse, though she never fully realized the weight of the situation until much later.

One day, the inevitable came barreling down on them–the land had been bought up by some nameless megacorporation. They woke from a deep slumber to a blaring horn from the bulldozer, a solemn reminder of the destruction to come. They scrambled to flee the building in time, leaving behind everything that wasn’t already on their backs and feeling distraught as they watched the home they had lived in for years get demolished in front of them.

Her mother fought hard to keep the land, but a corporation stole it. She was old enough by then to know the look of despair on her mother’s features. The last bit of freedom and dignity they had clung to for the last seven years of her life had been torn from them–leaving them both metaphorically and literally naked as she stared at the broken rubble of what she had called home.

She despised watching the apartments build up on the plot of land where she had spoken her first words, taken her first steps–but what is someone like her able to do against that level of authority? Everything she had known since birth was destroyed in a matter of moments by the cruel, unflinching megacorporation that her mother had warned her so much about since as early as she could remember.

She knew she couldn’t do anything about it–not yet at least–but she made a silent vow to herself in that moment. She would make them pay for taking her dignity, and she would personally carve out her own freedom from the very foundations of every single corpo bastard’s cushy home.

When Jesse and her mother were first forced into the complex, she found herself lost in a crowd of people. Every wall looked the same–sterile and all too clean. Every concrete hall echoed eerily, either with silence or sounds she couldn’t bare to comprehend. Her mother worked long hours to afford the rent, leaving Jesse alone in these sterile halls for all to long for her comfort. To escape the reality of the situation she wandered the labyrinthine halls or sitting on the flights of stairs–until she met Lira at least.

Lira saw her, a girl who looked like she didn’t belong in these halls even as she was aimlessly wandering them, and felt herself drawn to this girl by an unseen force. Neither girl tried to blend in, not really. Lira’s heavy boots made loud echoing footsteps as she walked towards Jesse, who seemed to almost be in a trance as she walked–seemingly not hearing the steps coming behind her. Lira could tell this girl was hiding something, some heavy burden she couldn’t help but feel intrigued by.

Lira tapped Jesse’s shoulder and turned her around, seeing the girl’s trance snap the moment her hand touched the girl’s shoulder.

“You seem lost,” Lira said almost too matter-of-factly as she searched the girl’s deep emerald eyes for any signs of modification.

Jesse didn’t answer for a moment, but she didn’t pull away from Lira’s touch, either. She felt an instant connection, as if there were impossibly unspoken decades of conversation that had already happened between the two.

“What of it..?” Jesse managed, her voice foreign and broken in her throat.

Lira could feel the contempt brewing beneath the girl’s calm exterior and smirked at the attempt to suppress it. “I like that about you, the name’s Lira.”

Jesse locked eyes with Lira, a small smile threatening to creep up on her lips–the feeling was just as foreign as her voice felt just moments ago. She was speechless, considering her reply for a long moment.

“Thank you, Lira…I guess there’s no getting out of being your friend now huh?” Her voice initially came out as quiet as a mouse, “My name’s Jesse.”

Before Lira could answer, a loud bang rang out in the halls, seemingly coming from everywhere at once. What seemed like a scream was interrupted by another bang–two, three, four–Jesse’s face was contorted with fear and anguish as she recognized the scream. Without thinking, Jesse ran toward the source of the sound, Lira not far behind.

Jesse skidded to a halt as the hallway bent sharply, her sneakers scraping against the concrete. Her breath caught somewhere in her throat–a choked sound, halfway between a gasp and a sob. The surrounding air was thick with the sterile scent of cheap industrial cleaner, but underneath it lingered something coppery and unmistakable.

Her mother’s body was sprawled across the threshold just outside their apartment door. A crumpled form that once held tired laughter and soft lullabies. Her eyes–usually alert, darting, always worried about Jesse–were empty now. Open. Unseeing.

Blood seeped out from beneath her mother in sickening contrast to the dull grey walls. The pattern of it already began to dry into the cracks of the floor, spreading out like tendrils trying to become part of the building itself.

Jesse didn’t move. She couldn’t. Her legs were locked beneath her, the world suddenly quiet. Too quiet.

Behind her, Lira arrived, breathless, her presence a sharp contrast to the horror. She looked between the body and Jesse, reading the story in the girl’s silence. The air buzzed faintly with the distant hum of corpo drones–already gone, their protocol overlooking this. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the form of a man rounding the opposite corner, and for a fleeting moment, she saw the glint of a gun in his hand.

“Jesse…” Lira whispered, stepping forward carefully, as if she were approaching a wounded animal.

Jesse was beyond hearing. Her fingers began to twitch at her side–tap… tap… tap-tap… tap. The rhythm she didn’t realize she knew. A lullaby pattern, ancient and instinctive, a whisper of her mother in motion.

She didn’t cry.

She didn’t scream.

She just stared.

And then her knees gave out.

Lira caught her without hesitation, arms circling Jesse like they’d always belonged there. She didn’t speak. Didn’t try to fill the space with comfort or apology–only silence and warmth. Even though they’d just met, Lira understood something vital and unspoken. Jesse needed someone to witness this moment. Not fix it. Not erase it. Just be there.

And Lira stayed.

Pretty much all the characters are planned, I just need to finish the bios.

Speaking of, tempted to make a community myself, but since I have a variety of unconnected works, I have no idea what that would be a community for. Kind of reminds me of the idea I had to try and get myself posting again, mainly making like, a sort of dating sim kind of group of characters to play around with.

Y'all want me to make object head people for you to kiss? SFUIHSFU

Btw, player of dating games or not, if you have a type in fictional characters, you can absolutely take the survey.

Hey, I made a survey for the recent writing project I am working on. If you want, feel free to fill it out. The questions may feel a bit random at times, but I promise they are relevant. And may have something to do with kissable object head people.

Google Docs

Dating Game Satisfaction Survey

For a writing project of mine, I was curious how people felt about the dating options in games that let you romance the characters. Let me b

Minors please do not interact

If you're a writer you're supposed to write a lot of bullshit. It's part of the gig. You have to write a lot of absolute garbage in order to get to the good bits. Every once in a while you'll be like "Oh, I wish I hadn't wasted all that time writing bullshit," but that's dumb. That's exactly the same as an Olympic runner being like "Oh, I wish I hadn't wasted all that time running all those practice laps"

Mood lol.

rereading old wip concepts like damn this is good i wish someone would write this

As a college writing major, I am imploring some of you to understand seeing a work in a different way than the author intended is not "media illiteracy". This is not a church and the writer is not the pope.

I am gently encouraging y'all, if you think this, to look into literary theories, because then you will realize there are multiple valid ways to study and interpret a work. And guess what? Some of these theories do not explore the author's original intent at all, but rather let the work speak for itself. That is a valid way of reading a work just as much as researching the writer's intent or background. I am especially concerned about this attitude I am seeing in the younger generation that there is only one way to interpret a piece of art. That is not the beauty of art.

I am especially tired of seeing posts like this about the classics, usually by individuals who make jokes about how people who don't view a work the way the author intended "need to go back to high school". I do not blame them for this ignorance, but I am begging them to learn about media analysis outside of the high school classroom, because high school only teaches you one way to approach stories.

Also, nothing makes me roll my eyes more than when people yell "media illiteracy" towards someone interpreting a work differently due to their unique experiences. The amount of singlets who yell "media illiteracy" when I, a plural person, try to explain my discomfort towards most possession stories, is so annoying. Like, it isn't an attack, it's sharing a different view point based on my unique perspectives as a plural person. This is a great opportunity to learn about experiences other than your own, not to trounce people.

Humans are weird: Tormenting Friends

You know that saying, only I can be mean to my brother/sister. The same thing goes for friends, and I kind of think it's hilarious that the people we trust the most in the world are the kind of people that will torture us the most. I can only imagine what another race would think...

Alien: what are they doing?

Human *looks over to where two girls are giggling as they walk along the edge of the roof, keeping one guy trapped between them*: So, Caiden's afraid of heights.

Alien *nods*: that is a logical reaction to a height that could kill you if you fall. Your body has evolved correctly.

Human *shakes his head*: Well, Wren and Jess found out and now they are torturing him. They won't let him off the edge until he walks the entire side.

Alien: Is this an intimidation tactic?

*both girls giggle loudly*

Human: believe it or not, it's a sign of friendship.

Alien: ...to force one's body to react in a fight or flight response?

Human *shrugs*: to make your friends miserable at your expense.

Alien *takes step away*: we are not friends. To be clear.

---

You can get this scene in my book, Humans Are Weird, available now! The whole series is pinned on my page.