One nation, under Canada, above Mexico.
with liberty and justice for some
Not all men
when ur otp is destroying you but ur friend just doesn’t ship it
I really wanted to make Lain Low only 20 chapters because Reasons but this last chapter is looking long as fuck. Post what I have now (ends, of course, on a climactic cliffhanger) and make it 21 chapters, or hang in there and wrap it up and drop a 10k+ word bomb on yall heads in a couple weeks?
Yes I am bi, but people tend not to believe me because I’m Straight Married
This porn blog just started following me for no reason so I looked just to see if maybe ‘hornyteenbooty’ was someone’s ironic Captain America fanfic blog or something???? Anyway no it’s just a porn blog but its captions are all wrong like
picture of naked skinny girl looking away from camera BOOTYLICIOUS LASVEGAS GIRL BOOBS SQUEEZED
picture of woman in sports bra + shorts warming up for a run SEDUCTIVE TEEN GIRL BUTT FINGERED NICELY
Who the fuck captions this shit and whyyyyy is it all wrong
My writing friend finally asked to see Lain Low the other night. I let him read like four paragraphs. He looked up from it, stricken, and rasped: “Why? Why this?”
Then he got up and walked away with no explanation, came back ten minutes later, gave me an extremely delicate and apologetic hug, and sat down on his side of the table to get more coding done. We have not discussed it since.
Fanfiction: it is not for real people.
I really, really appreciate your concern— sadly, I am always this way about writing. I am very lucky in that I have wonderful friends and family who force-feed me and browbeat me into sleeping, and I will be luckier still when I finish this thing and I can collapse into writing hibernation for a month. And I hope you know exactly how much your encouragement and praise mean to me… I would have gone completely insane without the support and sweetness of so many people.
I have done some truly stupid shit in my life, but the things I’m doing to get Lain Low finished are really far up on the No Stop What The Fuck scale. I have been in a nonstop text conversation for a month straight with a very close friend who is slowly turning me into a manic pixie dream girl; I have cultivated and squashed several crushes; I have suffered ‘sexy’ dreams about people and characters I would rather not have ever pictured in any non-platonic way; I have developed a caffeine habit that makes me worry about my kidneys. I have become a regular at three local late-night dives. I have entered into what can only be described as a kismesis relationship centered entirely around writing terrible fiction. I have written PORN at WORK. I have been publicly outed as bisexual (not that anyone believes this). I have slept in three-hour bursts between shifts and crying jags. I returned to a forsaken MMO. I returned to Neopets. I threw away half my dishes. I ate Canadian thanksgiving food and then stood outside in the rain, confused, trying to remember how much Thorin knows about what Bilbo knows about Sauron.
And I’m only four thousand words into the last chapter. God help me, writing is not good for my sanity.
Let me tell you about that party.
A friend of mine brought a date who brought a brand-new corgi puppy named Ampersand. Ampersand proved so popular that two of the guests adopted puppies later that week.
Another close friend, father of the child my husband nannies, attempted to give me a compliment. “You’re a very nice, very intelligent…” His voice trailed off and he swallowed, tucked in his chin, and visibly steeled himself against what he was about to say. “…Very beautiful lady and I’m sure that if Kevin hadn’t agreed to marry you, you would have found someone else someday.” He’s a naturally bitchfaced sort to begin with but the pained expression on his face was truly spectacular. Protip: do not attempt to compliment your platonic buddies on their appearance, it will only come out sounding like you look gross and I’m sorry about that.
Bulgarian homebrew is terrifying. Where did the Bulgarian homebrew come from? Nobody knows. I only know two people from Bulgaria and neither of them was at the party.
When you are wearing your shortest skirt and you tend to fall down while drunk, do NOT wear your period-stained granny panties. I report this on behalf of a friend; I was wearing a dress that I later realized was see-through, and my only undergarments consisted of nipple tape and a thong I could have flossed my teeth with. I am the purest creature of class.
Everyone on earth knows how to do that stupid dance from Gangnam Style. Don’t let this happen to your party. Blacklist Gangnam Style.
If a cute wizard shows up at your party and spends the whole thing sewing arcane symbols onto a leather jacket with dental floss, don’t panic. He may look like an iconoclastic hobo; this is all right. He is a musician. You will be friends. Why dental floss? Why at a party? Who cares? He has transparent converse shoes.
For God’s sake don’t sit in people’s laps. Don’t get in hammocks with people. Don’t goad your friends into playing Parappa the Rapper for you. Do NOT let people attempt to speak Bulgarian to you. (This may explain the homebrew.) Do not get sucked into the two-year-old’s liquid blue eyes and realize that you are totally ovulating. Why is there a two-year-old at a party where people are drinking tequila out of hollowed meringues? Do not question. Horrible idea.
Lemon sage curd is great. Just keep eating it. Just keep eating and everything will be fine. Who just unzipped your see-through dress? Wait, how long has it been unzipped? Shit, who replaced my homebrew grappa with tequila? It’s okay. Just keep telling your video-game-industry friend what you read about her on the internet. She won’t be creeped out. Everyone thinks she’s beautiful.
Who did you just lock yourself in the garage wimmmmmgggffffff. Oh.
There is a spider on me. Do I care about this? Ew spiders. Get out of the garage. What am I doing. Hahahhaa oh god. Who gave me all these pretentious books I am holding. Who put that corgi on the two-year-old. Oh my god just hug everyone, hug everyone. Everyone’s hair is SO PRETTY. I am thirty minutes into a conversation about harmonics and the golden ratio and although I find this person generally unattractive I want to make out with them solely on the grounds that they enjoyed Anathem. Garage? Spiders. Right.
Wait who was in the garage
I am in the kitchen trying to feed nut loaf to a person who keeps insisting that they’re fine. Of course they’re fine. Someone else is trying to tell me that they like orcs. Of course they like orcs. The friend who attempted to compliment me is now attempting to hand me the two-year-old. The two-year-old is double-fisting meringues and screaming. He is having the time of his life. I am having the time of my life. I love EVERYONE.
Hammocks are a great addition to a party if the party has an upstairs. Hammocks are great to share except that the other person is wailing because of somebody else’s hair that looks good and I don’t understand. Bulgarian is being spoken soothingly. Someone is suggesting that we have another party soon and I am all for it. There is lemon sage curd in my hair and I am all for it. The Bulgarian is so soothing.
Oh my fucking god my head is splitting and who turned the sun on? Jesus Christ am I still at my friends’ house? Why am I under the hammock? Where is my toothbrush? Oh my fucking god this dress is totally see-through. Oh my god what did I do last night? Why do I smell like lemon? What the fuck
Remember that party I threw a while back with the giant roasted pig?
Remember that? Remember that the guest list got kinda out of hand and so many people showed up that we realized later nobody knew who half of them were? Yeah?
Remember how I’m still getting re-introduced to people like “oh remember him, he was at your party,” and I draw an utter fucking blank because for some reason I was at that time eating a pig’s tongue in a hammock with one friend drunkenly cuddling + wailing into my ear about a girl whose hair she likes, and another friend pacing circles around the hammock speaking Bulgarian and pouring possibly illegal grappa into my Solo cup?
(I might not have posted about that. Good party.)
Today I got re-introduced to one of those unexpected guests. “You tried to force-feed him vegan nut loaf, remember? And then your friend showed everyone her panties and you took her upstairs before I could properly introduce him. Anyway he’s going to be at my birthday party in November and I want you to get along, he totally likes orcs and elves and stuff, you should tell him your pet theories about eagles!”
Sweet, says I. I do have some pretty intense theories about eagles. Shit’s gonna get real. Sorry I fed you nut loaf. You write fanfiction or what?
Oh no, says he. No, I’m a game writer and loremaster for this one video game that just came out. About orcs and Mordor and stuff. Yeah, go ahead and tell me about eagles!