Alice and the Warden – Marry Me
Concept Story – Hartmann
I wrote this a few months ago as part of The Scion Suit, but I’ve decided that I won’t be using this scene in the final version after all.
Hartmann sat at the bar, his hand lax around an untouched glass of scotch. A woman sat next to him, chittering nonstop, although he wasn’t listening to a word that she was saying. He was staring at her lips, studying the neatly applied red lipstick with a crisp outline and a perfect cupid’s bow, and his gaze had the woman giddy.
Carol’s lips had been pale and dry. She had been too shocked to react the moment his mouth touched hers, but he had expected that – Carol was the sort who hadn’t kissed anyone in years … if she had ever kissed anyone at all. He had taken his time and moved slowly to keep from overwhelming her, feeling the change in her breath as her eyes had closed and her chin lifted up.
Afterwards, Hartmann had told himself to stop pursuing Carol, before she damaged his ability to touch another woman. He had rounded up a couple of his guys to head out for a night of fun, but now that he was there, he found that he couldn’t engage. He couldn’t stop thinking of Carol.
Her lips had been vulnerable and responsive. Somehow, with very little movement, they had begged him not to stop, and he knew that Carol hadn’t been internally counting down the seconds till she could move on to the next step. He had felt wanted.
The woman sitting next to him, with the perfect lipstick and low-cut top didn’t want him. To her, he was no different from any other man, and if he didn’t pick her up, then someone else would. The cheap, meaningless pleasure that she offered held no appeal in contrast to what he had tasted with Carol.
She stopped talking and leaned close to him with her eyes half closed, and Hartmann couldn’t stop himself from jerking back with a disgusted look on his face. The woman snatched up her purse as she cussed at him, then stormed away, and he finally took a gulp of his drink.
Sergeant Brown sat down next to him in the woman’s empty spot, ordered two more drinks, then studied Hartmann for a moment before asking, “What’s up man? I’ve never seen you so far out of the game.”
Hartmann remained silent, but finished his scotch and set the glass back on the bar, where he traced the circle of the rim with his fingertip, remaining deep within his thoughts.
“If you keep bombing this badly, I’m gonna start thinking that you’re hung up on some bitch,” Brown added after a moment.
Hartmann didn’t really want to talk about it, but the idea of Carol being referred to as ‘some bitch’ galled him – a lot more than he’d expected it to. He glanced over at Brown with a scowl, then back at his glass. “She’s not a bitch,” he muttered quietly. “That’s the problem.”
“Oh come on, man,” Brown snorted derisively. “That just means you’re the one getting played.”
“Nah. She’s way too pathetic for that.” Hartmann couldn’t stop the small smile that twitched at the corners of his mouth. Despite his choice of words, he didn’t intend it as an insult – it was something about Carol that made her irresistibly endearing to him. In the moments when he wondered how she had managed to survive on her own in her former life, he also deeply wanted to be there for her in the future.
“Hell, I don’t believe you.” Brown waved his hand dismissively. “Women only care about themselves, money, and orgasms.”
That made Hartmann laugh. “This one is different, and now I’ve got to prove that I’m not full of shit.”
Brown drained his glass and set it down as he asked, “To me, or to you?”
“Both,” Hartmann replied, then signaled the bartender over for a refill.
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On Beauty
When I was a teenager, my mom took me to her hairstylist for a complete makeover. She braided up my hair, chopped off a full foot, then proceeded to push me into one of the most awkward stages of my teenagehood.
I’ve always been a “wash ‘n go” sort of girl. Never really could get into the habit of using blow dryers, let alone curling irons. Yet I gave that new hairstyle an honest shot, because all of the adult women around me kept going on about how “mature” it made me look, and I was scared of standing up against people back then.
I hated that hair cut. Loathed it. There isn’t a single picture of me smiling with that stupid style. I eventually drifted back to “wash ‘n go,” because that’s my fundamental personality type.
We’re talking about two decades ago here, so I can’t remember the specifics, but I do recall feeling bombarded with criticism from the hairstylist. She went on and on about split ends and breakage, then proceeded to donate my hair to Locks of Love … *eyeroll* The stylist was bad enough I remember asking my mom about it afterwards, and she told me that it was best to ignore the criticism.
But it still bothered me. It bothered me badly enough that I switched over to going to the local college for haircuts, then eventually started doing it myself. When I turned 30, I vowed to never cut my hair again, and I’ve been much happier with my appearance ever since.
I’ve been married for over a decade now. My husband likes to help brush and braid my hair when we get ready for bed, and he always praises how silky and shiny my hair is. Sometimes he even recites poetry. He doesn’t see the split ends or the wispy bits that stick out awkwardly, even though he’s perfectly aware of the horrible things that happen to my hair in the cause of motherhood. He sees the beauty, not the flaws.
That matters far more than the nitpicking opinions of near strangers.
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Fiber of the month – January
The fiber of the month club through Paradise Fibers
I know, I’m late for a number of reasons.
In January, Paradise Fibers sent the Humbug Merino, and the Silver Glitter Merino. I decided to ply them together for lots of sparkly silver yarn.
Aiming to make a lace shrug out of this, so hopefully I’ve got enough yarn to pull it off.
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Musings on CR1515
Somehow I’ve managed to write over 10,000 words for CR1515, despite feeling tired and busy with the gazillion things that always happen at once, and I still haven’t found the proper flow for the story. Not 100% settled in to it yet.
I can’t help but wonder if I should dial back on the philosophical ranting and put in the effort to submarine it more, but it probably doesn’t matter. People can be shockingly oblivious to what’s right underneath their noses, so I might as well slap a fancy border on it and proudly display it.
The fun part about the Aurora/CR1515 pairing is that they argue A LOT more than any of my other main couples. The fireworks are a blast to write (har har), which is probably how I’ve managed to do as much as I have, despite being excessively busy/tired with a gazillion things. We have stubborn pride going up against unyielding stances, in a scrumptiously confined space. What’s not to love?
Just wish I could find the groove for this story.
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Romance
In the vein of, “Everyone else is doing it,” I tried thinking of some books where I enjoyed the romance/couples/literally-anything-emotional, and I came up with nothing.
OMG I am so cranky.
At which point I realized that I actually have ZERO interest in the idea of ‘love’ for its own sake; might as well read about someone and their anime body pillow for all the difference it makes. Throw in the fact that everyone writes female characters as psychotic self-absorbed bitches, and you basically have the reason why I can’t name any romance novels that I like enough to recommend.
So there you have it: Don’t bother reading books. They all suck.
LOL
The thing is, I often feel like a hopeless romantic trapped in a world where romance has been deliberately slaughtered — of course I don’t enjoy it. Why would I? It’s all just pointless nihilism because nobody knows how to genuinely connect with another human being anymore.
For now, I’m content to sit inside my own little bubble, occasionally sending out the message, “It doesn’t have to be like this,” with the knowledge that even a butterfly’s wings can have a huge impact on the world.
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How to get a lot of likes on Tamagotchi
Step one: Have a unique tamagotchi.
You can easily achieve this by proposing to other unique tamagotchis in the park! Because you aren’t required to sync the app with the tamagotchi device, people will think that you’re a **** if you decline proposals.
Step two: Like others.
Anyone and everyone. It doesn’t matter.
Step three: When someone likes your tama, like theirs in return
You’re allowed to give the same tama up to 10 likes a day. This means that the cool people will just keep liking each other until they’ve maxed it out.
Don’t be shy about maxing it out with others, and they’ll do the same for you.
Pro tip: If the park seems to be full of NPCs, go ahead and exit then re-enter. The more unique tamas around, the more likely you’re in the company of real people.
PS: Don’t bother with the Tama Party unless you’re in the mood for it, or you want to marry the unique visitor of the month. Otherwise, it’s very slow paced, the tamas frequently decline, and there isn’t anything that you can’t easily get on the device.
Follow these steps, and you can be a Tamagotchi Guru.
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Convalescent
We caught another virus, and this one has left me feeling So. Very. Drained.
It’s been pretty bad this winter. We finally got around to checking in with some of the other parents, and apparently, our family has had it comparatively easy. Others have been hit considerably worse with a variety of illnesses, ranging from COVID to pinkeye.
Yikes.
The only thing to do is to surrender to the chaos and take things as they come. And get plenty of sunshine and vitamins.
One of these days I’ll get around to doing something.
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Prewriting – CR1515
The fun part is, I first came up with the idea of “CR1515 the robot” clear back when I was a teenager … like, 20 years ago. XD
The easy vocalization of his name is “Crisis.”
He is quite literally “above it all”, living in a space station where he continuously monitors everything that happens on the planet below. He’s existed long enough to watch humanity decline into fatalistic complacency, and he knows that a large part of that was due to his presence. The story starts when he decides to step back and let people figure out how to take care of themselves without him.
However, when Aurora unexpectedly shows up at his door, a new plan forms in his mind.
CR1515 is the most straightforward character, to the point of almost being one-dimensional in his clarity of purpose, and he functions more like an anti-hero/villain in the role he plays.
His big secret is that he was born human, and is closer to a cyborg than a full robot.
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Women’s Fiction
Aye, it’s good,” he said, handing the goblet back. “It’s also double strength. Colum takes it at night because his legs pain him. How much of it have you had?” he asked, eyeing me narrowly.
“Two, no, three glasses,” I said, with some dignity. “Are you implying that I’m intoxicated?”
“No,” he said, brows still raised, “I’m impressed that you’re not. Most folks that drink wi’ Colum are under the table after the second glass.”
-Outlander
I don’t typically read books written specifically for a female audience.
Because they make me feel bad.
Emotionally.
For example, the above quoted scene from Outlander, where the main character holds her liquor better than most men. High five, girl power, etc, etc, etc.
But me, being a real woman in real life, can’t handle booze for the life of me. It’s a bit of a joke between my husband and me, but the one time I attempted to get drunk, I ended up hunched over the toilet pretty quick. I based this scene in The Scion Suit off of my irl experience.
And, of course, the fact that I’m usually pregnant or nursing means that I’m borderline teetotaler anyway.
Back to my point: the female characters in per se “women’s fiction” are completely and thoroughly unrelatable to me.
I don’t have any fantasies about being able to out-drink a man … I don’t understand why one would want to. I don’t want to show anyone up or cut anyone down, because, well, that’s mean. I don’t like hurting people.
I’m not ambitious, and I don’t want to slave away for the sake of some job. I like having the freedom of dressing like a hippie and going to the park on the spur of the moment. I’m terrible at handling external pressure, and numbers never meant much of anything to me.
I like the color pink.
Yet if one were to go off of books, movies, TV, video games, etc, women like me don’t exist. Wow. Fantastic. I feel so accepted.
“Target audience: women” doesn’t include me. In fact, it seems to go out of its way to deliberately exclude me.
Why am I not allowed to read about relatable female characters? Why must I always feel like society is out to punish me for not living up to its expectations? Why am I not allowed to just be myself?
Sometimes I wonder if it’s gotten to the point where most women feel alienated in one way or another.
Or maybe it’s just me.
By Autumn Rain 