#a rough draft

[deadovve]

dark!lu feng/xiao chen | d e pr a v ed

[spaceasianmillennial]

A CONCLAVE MUSICAL PARODY: "God I Hope (I Don't) Get It"

If you want to read the second page with Vincent Benítez's verses, read it on AO3.

[loveinsomesacredplace]

Thoughts & Reactions on s3 ep01 TSITP

Spoilers ahead for episode 1 "Last Season". Text only; spoiler images/gifs will be posted separately. I will be focusing on Bellyere and Belly and Jere in these posts.

To not put a fine point on it, the worst excesses of Jenny's writing (aka, that Fuckass Book 3) have been live-adapted in these first two episodes. We are talking ANVIL Obvious narrative.

This will be my first and last time staying up and watching the episodes as they air - because I'm fine with waiting, if the pacing/hammy writing continues like this.

I had low expectations coming into this season as the source material was my least favorite of an already shaky series, but seeing the direct words and some events translate to the screen was a lot.

I was not prepared for how low my expectations should have gone.

Under Jenny's watch, the characters we love, and are interested in - go through the OOC wringer. The characterization that was set up from season 1 and season 2? Yeah, bye.

Mere shadows of themselves - Jenny and co. take the college experience of 'finding yourself/making mistakes/hooking up, etc.' and dial it up to eleven. The messy boots that were Steven and Taylor?

Both of them are cheaters, not only emotional cheaters, but full on cheaters - Steven has a plot device offscreen girlfriend Mia. Taylor is dating/has a 'boyfriend' named Davis, who is in Jere's frat. We see him, and he's cute and all, but nothing has done to make him a real character. They are mere paper obstacles in the background. Steven and Taylor have been on and off - off for most of the first day Taylor moves into Finch, though Belly catches them hooking up again later.

But then a fast forward into the present - and it's junior year, and they're sneaking around with each other and Belly and Jere know this and no one's doing anything about it, because why would paper obstacle significant others matter.

Belly and Jere start out strong - they are the 100% that couple on campus who do everything together, and are head over heels in love. But cracks are present, and before too long we get to the Lacie plot device, and Cabo.

Let me go down the negatives first, to get them out of the way. As always, Show Belly is my girl, and I love her, but she is flawed, and I guess the memo was to hell with growth and nuance for everyone.

Belly slapping Jere in the face after he admits he had sex with Lacie was hurtful and unnecessary. These two have been shown up until this point to love each other and touch each other gently and their shared love language is physical touch. Belly slapping him was too far. I hated it when Laurel slapped her, and I hate it here too. Emotions were running high and she has every right to feel hurt and betrayed, because she was - but I detest that the show went there and kept that from the book. Hardcore Team Jeremiahs probably disowned her right here. Do I think it's unforgivable? No. But that's a cruel thing to do to her and Jere, because they're so physically affectionate, and then to have his person touch him in anger like that?

Straight to jail. JAIL, JENNY. JAIL

2. The compressing of the majority of their relationship means we saw their highest highs - and they were darling just as I thought they would be, meant that when they imploded, we didn't really get any room to breathe/build up, just straight into ugliness and hurt (the breakup is beginning of episode 2)

which is directly tied to how the writers drastically decided to overhaul Jere's character in the shallowest of ways - he's forgetful of opening school emails so now he has to graduate a semester later because his courses didn't count, and he's distraught over that - and Belly is sweetly supportive. However, there are moments where it's written that Belly is glib and not fond of Jere's fraternity (where it's all boobs and ass and smoking weed, so thanks for keeping that stereotype too, Jenny!) instead of going into the deeper things about him that she loves, so it sounds superficial. Belly goes into a rant about the things that drive her crazy about Jeremiah to Steven, which had some of the ridiculous things from the books - so yeah, allergies are back and tissues everywhere. However, on screen, it just sounded like little petty things in any long term relationship, not deal breakers. Jeremiah gets dressed down in a fierce fashion by Adam, and Belly hears it.

3. Belly's volleyball gets taken away, which I suppose for real volleyball players watching is a relief, because girl...but so the thing that she presumably got into Finch for, the thing that brought her back to herself in season 2? Poof. Belly injures her knee and is now going into sports psychology.

4. The writing is not good. Like, not good in a not good way, not in an enjoyable way. It felt over the top at times and strangely flat in others. I was worried from the clips we saw and hoping context would help but nope. The script being so OOT meant everyone was fighting for their lives in the acting department too, which was even more disappointing. Lola had some sitcom-style deliveries and over exaggerated facial expression. I really hope this improves in episode 3.

Now for the good part: BELLYJERE CHEMISTRY ON TOP. STILL.

All the details of their relationship and their love story - the scavenger hunt photos that jenny talked about in EW - are on Belly's wall - I screamed when I saw that she and Jere dressed up as Lara Jean and Peter for Halloween (a good easter egg)

While they certainly both had their rough patches individually, when they're together and portraying that long relationship, it's a pleasure to watch.

[hideawayintheimaginationworld]

Can write a quick drabble of Deliah meeting Lefty for the first time

A late night walk was always demanded and Lefty was happy to oblige, walking at night gave him a chance to think and relax.

After tucking his son into bed, Fetch ran up to him, his blue leash in his mouth, his tail wagging, no word needed to be exchanged as Lefty knew what he was asking.

Before he left home, he made sure to triple lock the door and activate the motion sensor so if something showed up at the door, he’d get an urgent notification to return home.

Fetch seemed to be in no hurry to return home, Lefty couldn’t blame him, he was usually cooped up in the house, in fear the neighbors would see him and report him, night time was the only safe time to take him outside, also Lefty could walk with him without the need for a disguise, he did have his black ring on in case he ran into a late night jogger because he knew they’d scream in horror if they saw him.

Fetch happily ran along the sidewalk, sniffing some bushes along the way, before stopping abruptly. Lefty stopped also as Fetch sniffed around.

“What do you smell?”

Fetch raised his head and made his way ahead, continuing to smell the air, seemingly having a scent to follow.

Lefty’s guard rose, Fetch could definitely smell something abnormal, usually hostiles.

“Is it Nightmare?”

Hearing no response made Lefty anxious, “Fetch, do we need to get out of here?”

Fetch pointed himself ahead, Lefty looked ahead, a dead end road with an abandoned looking factory, one that its door slightly open, like someone wandered inside.

He narrowed his eyes, briefly scanning the site, it looked abandoned, besides from a car parked out front. How odd, he thought, factory workers never worked so late, he wasn’t an expert but he was sure they didn’t work past seven pm and it was well past midnight, in fact, Lefty checked his system clock which said the time: 1:35 AM.

He knew he should head back home but something about that car struck him as strange. What if the driver had pulled over because they got lost and fell asleep? Worse, something else like a kidnapping was afoot, it would explain Fetch’s apparent insistence to go towards it.

The bush next to him rustled and he jumped for a moment, Fetch immediately turned towards it and growled loudly, Lefty grabbed his flash beacon, half expecting Nightmare or Funtime Freddy to jump out.

Instead the bush was pushed aside and Lefty looked down at the ground.

It was a porcelain doll, walking towards him.

Lefty had always thought of them as extremely creepy.

However this didn’t seem to be like the porcelain dolls he had seen before.

For one thing, he had never seen one move on its own, except for horror movies, which he regretted watching that particular movie with Michael as it made him paranoid for months, even with Michael explaining it was “just a movie”, Lefty now realized that it was likely dolls could be husks for agony and cause havoc.

“Uh, hello,” He spoke to it, wondering if it would respond to him.

He looked more closely at the doll, noticing the doll’s much more dirty state, the brown curls messy and the pale blue dress it wore had mud stains.

The doll’s head tilted up to him and that seemed to confirm it wasn’t a normal doll he was dealing with.

Fetch approached the doll and sniffed it, Lefty watched his reaction, knowing that Fetch’s reaction would dictate his next move, Fetch would immediately attack if he deemed it a threat.

Fetch’s tail began a soft wag which told Lefty the doll was not a threat.

“Do you belong to someone?” Lefty asked, “I’m sure your owner is missing you,” He now assumed this was some sort of advanced toy, he knew toys these days were advanced, given how scared he was of his daughter’s furby because it had once started screaming at 3 AM with no command.

The doll slowly walked down the path, towards the abandoned factory site, the doll then turned back to Lefty and Fetch.

“Do you want me to follow you?”

The doll nodded.

“Fetch, guard,” Lefty spoke, a command which switched Fetch into a much more alert mode.

Lefty followed the doll towards the factory, he then noticed Fetch seemed to get more anxious, looking around, whimpering and trying to pull Lefty along.

Something’s wrong here, his mind said.

He stopped in front of the factory’s open door, he then quickly stepped towards the car outside, a quick peek inside confirmed no one was in there. On a bad gut feeling, Lefty decided to grab the car door handle, he pulled it, finding the car was unlocked when the door swung open.

Normal people would lock their cars, the owner must have left in a hurry.

He took a quick look inside the car, there was a duffel bag which looked full of clothes in the passenger seat, which suggested whoever owned this car was travelling away from home. There was a phone left on the driver’s seat and that raised his alarm, he knew humans were, in a way, attached to their devices, his own son wouldn’t leave home without his phone.

Fetch looked towards the factory.

It bothered Lefty that the doll seemed to lead him here for a reason.

Lefty knew he needed to know.

This was too suspicious.

Lefty unhooked Fetch’s leash, “Go Fetch!” He yelled, and Fetch darted off inside the factory, Lefty followed behind him, he knew Fetch had a scent and was chasing it.

Lefty lifted up his hat and dug out a bright flashlight, he clicked it on and followed after Fetch, he then heard the doll slowly following behind, so he turned back and lifted it up so it wouldn’t fall behind.

Fetch stopped at the opening of a drainage pipe, Lefty’s eye switched to his scanning mode and his system immediately detected something.

UNKNOWN HANDPRINT IDENTIFIED.

RECENTLY LEFT.

Knowing that, Lefty snapped his fingers, Fetch jumped down into the drainage pipe and Lefty followed.

He didn’t expect to spend his night crawling through a pipe that could barely fit him but he had a feeling something more was going on here.

Fetch crawled out the other end and ran out, waiting for Lefty to squeeze himself out, once he did, he looked around.

He was in a construction site, which had no fences. Lefty thought that was irresponsible considering the amount of construction site accidents he heard about being caused by civilians wandering into the construction zone.

Fetch put his nose to the ground and was sniffing again.

“Is it a monster? Bark one for yes.”

Fetch raised his head and barked, then he barked again, confirming they weren’t chasing a monster, Lefty was slightly relieved but he still wasn’t sure what Fetch was following.

“Do you smell a human?”

Fetch barked, Lefty’s eye widened.

“Well we need to find them, Fetch go!”

Fetch started sniffing around and slowly walked on a path, Lefty following behind, still carrying the doll in his arm, which he looked at, wondering if this doll had come to him to tell him that its owner was in trouble and he would need to help.

Fetch weaved around obstacles before stopping at a vent opening, he lowered himself down, whimpering.

Lefty knew he wouldn’t be able to crawl inside given his size.

“Fetch, connect,” Lefty held up his phone, the app on his phone named “FETCH CONNECT. PROGRAMME. V.1.2.0” loaded up.

“Fetch, track and retrieve,” Upon getting the command, Fetch crawled into the vent.

The app had a static screen before it fully loaded and Lefty was able to see what Fetch could, Fetch crawled inside the vent, sniffing around, crawling further in.

Lefty watched carefully, making sure Fetch was safe.

Fetch’s head scanned from side to side, Lefty could tell it was tight squeeze and he had for a moment feared his dog would become trapped in the vent, however he reasoned if Fetch did become stuck, he could just use his telekinesis ability and pull the vent apart at the seams to free Fetch if needed.

After a minute, Lefty noticed a strange black shape ahead in the vent, he was unable to make it out, until Fetch crawled closer.

To his shock he saw a shoe, and what he was certain was a leg.

Clearly Fetch saw it too.

Lefty watched as Fetch made the quick decision to grab onto the shoe in his jaws and pull it forward.

Lefty was convinced his dog had found a dead body and he started to feel ill.

Lefty was ready to call the authorities when Fetch had backed out, pulling the body out, an obviously still alive woman who groaned in pain.

“Oh my goodness, are you alright?” Lefty asked, concerned about how long she had been in there stuck.

She groaned again, taking a deep breath and pushing herself up.

“Do you need an ambulance?” Lefty reached out to her, wanting to assess her condition.

She held her head for a minute, her eyes opening fully to look up at Lefty and they immediately widened.

“Oh my god… I’ve finally gone insane…”

Lefty then realized he didn’t have his disguise on.

“Ah, I know how I look, but I’m not going to hurt you or anything, I just would like to know that you’re alright-”

The woman had looked at the doll Lefty was carrying and her face went pale.

“Oh my… god…you!” She shook.

“I beg your pardon?” Lefty was startled by this change in character.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?! I’ve had enough of you tormenting me! What did I ever do to you?!”

“Lady are you alright?”

“You just keep coming every day at 1:35 AM!”

“Technically it’s now 1:57 AM-”

The woman stood up and pointed her finger at Lefty “Why did you bring that thing here?!”

“I don’t understand?” Lefty frowned.

“Oh god, I need help or something!” The woman turned on her heel and ran off.

“Wait up! Wait!” Lefty started to chase after her, “I just want to help you!”

Despite Lefty trying his hardest to keep track of her, he somehow lost her in the construction maze, he looked around, unsure what to do.

He looked to the doll, who remained still in his arms. He then noticed a small name tag on her wrist, which he turned over, seeing the name “Ella” written in cursive handwriting.

“You’re not a normal doll…”

It had gotten really late, and with a heavy heart, Lefty decided to return home, although he didn’t want to, as he didn’t know what happened to that woman he had met.

He dragged himself home, arriving back at 2:35 am, dragging his feet inside, Fetch lazily trudging next to him, clearly tired also as he scampered up the stairs.

Lefty entered his room, closing his door, taking off his top hat and bow tie, and immediately collapsing into bed, falling asleep.

Lefty had forgotten the Ella doll until he woke the next day at 8:00 am and saw she was standing in front of his dresser table, her blue eyes staring at him.

“That woman’s name from last night was Delilah. She needs your help.”

Lefty nodded, Michael was definitely wrong about porcelain dolls being unaware.

[springtimebat]

The Autumn Meeting (Part 1/4)

Six suns peer down from perching clouds, leaving heavy, gilded dents on the heavens. They watch with amused, greedy eyes, their eyelids soft and rusted. They sit and wait for a hymn to be sung.

The city of tomorrow arrives in the early morning, on a thousand dying legs. The crow is beginning its call as the sun sets in the east, and the queen begins to cross the old town bridge just as the sky turns pitch black. The queen is young and full of life. Her hair is dark and wild. Her eyes are electric green. Naturally, the shadows clamber over each other, desperate to touch her skin. They claw at her footprints, grasp desperately at her diadem. The Queen places a shawl, a piece of midnight, careworn and devoid of stars, around her shoulders. She places galoshes on her feet. They snap against the cobblestones. The shadows attempt to bash her brain in. The queen pulls the shawl tighter around her neck and carries on. She must begin her quest before it's too late, before she misses her window. She pulls apart the ghoulish bonds restraining her and slips into the forest, the heavy frame of her home balancing on stilts behind her.

When the clock strikes the right time, three pilgrims meet deep inside the bowels of the forest to tell stories they stole off of wanderers backs. One is skull and bones, the second is more shark than man, the last is cast in iron and gilded armour, kept together with unsteady bolts and springs. The three are old, dear friends with different destinies that lead them to separate for months on end. Still, now they gather for a night in. They gather for the stories and for listening.

The forest is a protective shield, swarming with thistles, brambles and decaying pieces of junk. Years before, during the days of the dust, a king set up booby traps in the forest, hoping to capture some kind of beast. Now spikes and barbed wire festered among the moss, weary of a world full of colour beyond the tree trunks. The queen notices flashes of silver as she races through the trees; simply shadows against the bruised sunset and the sad oaks. Her feet dance around the puddles and quicksands. She flies through the grass and the rock until she comes across the meeting place from her stories. In a clearing stands a roaring fireplace and three men, huddled together like three fates. One stands up and hurls wood onto the fire, his back muscles tensing. He is a fish-man, with silver scales framing his brow and giant saucers for eyes. He wears the same strange uniform the Queen had seen him wear in an engraving once, all frills and ridiculous trimmings. The second man sits watching the third as they recite a poem. His body is masked by a suit of metal armour. Atop his helmet sits a boar’s head, its eyes closed, bored. The final man shakes their bones and clacks their teeth. He disguises his lack of skins with a cloak, similar to the Queen’s. He is standing by the fire, whistling a strange sonnet:

“-so the little girl set off to win back her foot. But the ogre’s own pair of feet were large and heavy. He was quicker than the little girl and it took her months and months of travelling to catch up-”

“Didn’t her parents worry about her?” Interrupts the fish man from his space at the mantle-piece, “Poor girl out on her lonesome.”

His friend groans and stamps his foot.

“She had no parents Abram. She was all on her lonesome to begin with and that’s how she lost her foot. Haven’t you been listening, you knucklehead?”

“Surely she has friends who would wanna know where she is...right? I mean, surely one of you guys would wanna know about my fins being cut up? Or my scales being punctured-”

“Enough! I have a story to finish Abram. Leave questions ‘till after the workshop.”

Abram lets out a tiny squeak but speaks no more. The skeleton grins in the firelight and begins again:

“The little girl carried on, always searching for her missing foot. She asked everyone she came across and slaughtered the many who tried to take her for their own, with their nets and their traps and their cages. By the time she finally found her foot she was covered in blood and guts and body parts. Still, she had found her foot and that’s what truly matters-”

“Where’d she find it Emil?” Abram asks, his eyes widening.

“I’m getting to that! Now where was I- oh right! The little girl, all alone and bloody in middle of a winter wood, found her foot on the low branch of a great oak much like these-” The skeleton waves his arms at the trees encasing the three storytellers, “The bone was still brand new, like a new pair of shoes elastic new. It had been left there many, many moons before by someone very tall.”

“What did she do then?” 

“Well, she grabbed her foot from the oak tree and put it back, snapping it into place so to speak. Then she began the journey back home. As she did she thought to herself, “The ogre must have not needed the foot as much as I did.” The End.” Emil raises his skull to the sky, grinning proudly. 

His friends give awkward coughs.

“What happened to the ogre?” Abram asks, frowning, “Surely something interesting happened to him.”

“Unimportant.” Emil growls. 

The suit of armour gives a squeak and stretches his wiry arms. Emil rolls his head to the side in annoyance. 

“What the girl did once she got home does not matter Gus. Not in the slightest. Don’t you understand what I was trying to get across? What I was trying to convey?”

“Not really.” Abram says, poking at the fire with a stick. 

“The moral of the story, of the stanzas, was that quests of revenge, of bloodshed, are simply pointless. The journey is important and needed. All the other benign details are just...unnecessary!”

“It was good ‘till the ending. You just need to rework the ending.”

Emil scoffs, “Amateurs! Both of you! And Francis, Boris and Johnson and…all of the folding folk at the board up in the mountains! I cannot compromise my masterpiece with...amateurs!” 

“I enjoyed it.”

The three men turn to see a young girl approaching their campground, her eyes an electric green, her pupils dancing. She has an amused smirk on her face. Her hair is a dangerous dark brown. Abram just stands there, blinking, confused. Emil turns his back on the visitor, muttering some obscenities about damned fairy folk under his musty breath. Gus on the other hand, recognises the queen immediately and falls to the ground in a bow, his chest plate and helmet clinking. The queen’s smirk grows into a grin and she pats the knight on the shoulder. 

“I enjoyed the blood and the guts...and the body parts.”

“Yeah you would,” Emil growls, “You and your tasteless, tasteless people.”

Gus gasps and places himself in front of the queen, as if Emil’s words can pierce her skin. Emil simply laughs.

“Look at this old fool! This old, old fool! She doesn't care for you at all my boy! She looks at you as she looks at the bugs swarming around her feet. Learn that Gus! Learn these young girls only want to look at you in amusement and never want to settle down!” 

“I want to settle down,” The queen replies, and she strides towards a chair the men have manufactured from fallen Autumn leaves, “I am going to settle down.”

“Ah see! I knew it! I knew you were that queen I’ve heard gossip about!”

“Gossip?” The queen’s eyebrows raise, “Gossip about me?”

“Oh yes. I’ve heard quite a lot of tall tales about you. Stories about you eating babies, stabbing your own knights with their own swords-” At that, Gus swallows and sits back down on the forest floor, shaking, “-stories of you charming snakes and cobras. Stories of you sleeping in their coils.” Emil stares at the queen, goading her to respond. The queen tuts and stretches her short, stubby legs. They were tired from hours of running as their owner searched the dark places. Her skin stretches and shifts in the firelight.

“I only ate one baby. The rest is just nonsense.”

“Hmmm. All the gossip came from your kind so I never took any of it seriously. Seeing you now makes me think it wasn’t so far fetched.”

The queen furrows her brow and rolls her eyes. 

“Are you all telling stories?” She asks, focusing on the dirt beneath her leaf throne instead of the man in front of her, “ When I was little I read stories about you telling stories together. In an endless loop.” 

The men fall silent. The queen sighs. 

“I would like to join you all. For just one night.” 

Emil growls. Abram roasts a marshmallow. Gus shivers in an invisible wind. His legs make a strange croaking sound and detach themselves from his waist, stumbling about on the rocky terrain.

“What are you queen of, exactly?” Emil asks.

“All sorts of things really.”

“Like what? What do you do? What are your day-to-day ac-tiv-teees?” 

“I look after the lost ones most of the time.”

“The lost ones?” 

“Folks made of time and sand. They come to us, my husband and I, full of regrets and sorrows. They lose themselves in our corridors and become our subjects. We transform their troubled minds into something sweet.”

“Sweet for the monarchy, one supposes, but not for everyone else,” murmurs Emil, picking at his cloak,“ I heard you two aren’t married already.”

“We will be soon.”

“Once your quest is complete, I’m guessing.”

“Yes. Once I return.”

“Do you take babies?” Abram asks, sitting cross-legged on the milkwood grass, “I heard you take babies.”

“Sometimes.”

Emil clears his throat, which makes his bones rattle in a very unattractive way. He then nods to Abram, who nods back. He turns to Gus, who by now is just a bunch of scraps flailing about in the mud. Gus’ head, however, has enough time to tilt his head back in agreement.

“Very well. You may join the club for a night. A single solitary night-”

“No baby eating!” Abram shouts from his corner. The Queen tuts and crosses her heart with a wicked finger. 

“I promise. No baby eating.” She grins. 

“-And you’ll be the last to go. No cuts!” Emil growls.

“Very well.” The Queen sighs and closes her eyes, listening to the whispers in the breeze. 

Emil looks to his companions, sitting by the campfire as they always do, and shrugs.

“Now that…compromise has been met I suppose we can continue with the workshop.”

“Finally,” Abram mutters. 

And as the four take their places in the storyteller’s guild, the woods begin to shiver with excitement. 

The annual Autumn meeting was only beginning.

[linnsums]

Me? Finishing a pack before I get distracted and start something else? I don’t think so.

[ravenkult]

"A Rough Draft" matte paintings by Alisher Mirzoev https://www.artstation.com/artwork/RRvkO

[alwaysalreadyangry]

a draft of a poem based on this painting, written as part of a class exercise (sharing because i had fun but also have no clue what to do with it)

more urgent & unforeseen reasons to love myself

would i rather hold your fan or fold myself into it? gathered in & out again at my hidden parts where dust/powder collects & your fingers press down who dares look at me so? who paints the sky such violet & raw pink in early mornings? who pinned a bow to my chest? is this your dog left to my hands, shaking? must i hold him while you dress? must i bite my lip when you ask?                                       baby i don’t have knees -- you gave me hard edges & you wonder why i keep my distance. a hairpin on the carpet mascara pox on glass cold dog kisses for my mouth the night outside & in / fuzzy walls of charcoal grey & black & a starless sky, a canopy bed i won’t lie down for you no fucking  tonight. & whose dog is this anyhow your kisses blue / where have you been  a small box, very far away. tissue paper. a few lines, scratched. your puppy on his knees crying for you, somewhere in the back. me, too.