It's been a rough year. My purse was stolen. Raccoons invaded my house. House flooded again. I'm losing my goddamn hair. My cousin died. My uterus has gone goddamn haywire. I'm getting caretaker burnout. Watching my mother's memory get worn away like a rock in a river is taking a toll on me. I hate how easily I can get angry and annoyed now with her even though it's the disease's fault, not hers. I hate how I can never be alone. But I'm incredibly afraid of missing or wasting time with my mother, even though her health is better than it was right after my father died. I worry about how much worse it can get. I feel so... like I'm unlearning stuff, and I'm too afraid to do things I would have before. Like a butterfly reverting back into a cocoon and caterpillar stage, or some shit. I worry that I'm losing my<\/i> memory.
Sometimes the kids want to be cuddled, though, and they come to me for it, and I can kiss the tops of their heads and smell their hair. Sometimes the winter sunsets are incredibly beautiful. Sometimes I can wander through apple orchards with my friends and eat kettle corn and laugh, or through cider festivals, or beaches, or parks. Sometimes my sports teams win. Sometimes I can smell honeysuckle in my mother's backyard during the spring. Sometimes the fireflies are so thick in the trees that it looks like Christmas lights. Sometimes I eat a perfect peach. Sometimes I'm driving down the ICC and I see the phone tower that is (badly)n disguised as a tree and it makes me smile because of how much my dad loved that damn thing and pointed it out whenever we went by. Sometimes I hear a song on the radio that Louise loved and I remember something from college that I haven't thought of in a long time. Sometimes someone leaves a really nice set of tags on something I post on tumblr. Sometimes I take a nap with the window open in spring and I wake up while it's still light out.
One of these years, it's going to be a good year.
Happy Year Year, everybody. See you on the flip side.","comments":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/253760.html?view=comments#comments","category":"meatworld"},{"guid":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/253479.html","pubDate":"Mon, 12 May 2025 07:36:46 GMT","title":"She comes in colors everywhere, she combs her hair","author":"thorne_scratch","link":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/253479.html","description":"It's the brief, glorious season of peonies here, an underrated time.
Generally everyone in DC is all about cherry blossom season, which I do get. It's hard to get more breathtakingly scenic than hundreds of trees with all their fragile white blossoms, and the resulting petal storms and drifts. And then by the time the Yoshino ones are done (which, honestly, are the ones everyone really cares about, since they're the main type around the Tidal Basin and such), the Kwanzan ones, with the double-ruffly pink blossoms get going.
Peony season has an aesthetic that sort of lies between the two ends of the Yoshino and Kwanzan cherry blossoms. They've got that same kind of clean scent, like fresh laundry. I like how disheveled peonies tend to look. I can't take credit for it, but there was a tumblr post I still remember, comparing peonies and either camellias or dahlias, and noting that peonies are like the kind of people who can roll out of bed after a night of hard drinking and look disheveled and breathtakingly beautiful. They're not wrong! It's even more apt for how peonies look after rain; I think the universe must keep their egos in check from the fact that even the slightest rain tends to beat them down flat if they don't have some kind of gardener-set cage support, and they have to finish their magnificent bloom in horizontal fashion, and eventually drop all their petals there. It's like a drunk reciting poetry while on the floor at a party. Very undignified, but still beautiful. There's something encouraging about the fact they can and will continue to bloom gloriously while flat on the ground. We should all be so lucky to succeed in such circumstances, flat on our faces.
Anyway, my mother has banks of peonies in her garden, and every day I go out and cut a couple more to add to various vases around the house. You get a few days of scent and glory, and then the slightest air current or touch makes them drop their petals in the messiest way possible all over the floor. We currently have so many little snowdrifts of pink and red and white petals inside the house.
And ants. Because no matter how you shake the peonies when first picking them, there are always ants on them, and some always make it to the house despite your best efforts. Apparently you can more reliably get them off if you also dip the peony blossoms in water, but that's generally more effort than I'm willing to put in. But it makes me think of the cosmic horror of being an ant on a peony plant. Here you are, enjoying the nectar, and then you're somewhere else completely in a whole new universe with no warning. Your best case scenario is getting shaken or flicked off the perfectly good flower that was supplying your meal; more likely, you end up getting squashed by a giant thumb or piece of kleenex. I have a vase of peonies on the table next to my bed; inevitably I find an ant on my arm or forlornly traversing the vast carpeted floor, and then it is curtains for them. It must be very good nectar on peonies for ants, though at what cost, glory.
Moving away from flowers, it was a Mother's Day of ups and downs. Maybe more accurately just a day of ups and downs, mostly downs; the holiday part provided the framework. It doesn't feel very good to admit that part of my bad mood was directly related to the holiday. I spent much of the day doing things for my mother, which is fitting enough. It just felt like the universe was rubbing it in my face that this is something I don't get to have. And I wanted it. I still<\/i> want it. I always wanted to have kids. I wanted to get married and get pregnant and have kids. And I do have kids, or relationships with kids, but not in a way that anyone will ever see me as their mother.
And here's the annoying and petty cherry to the day: the high school friend, the one who secretly annoys me, and who I am often not as kind to as I should be, and yet who loves me far more than I deserve, the one whose baby shower I helped organize, and whose ass I helped wipe and wrecked vagina I helped spray when she'd just given birth to her kid, and who then asked me to be the kid's godmother when I was desperately hoping not<\/i> to be asked because I feared what that commitment would require from me for our relationship going forward-- she's the only<\/i> one who said anything today to me to acknowledge my doing mother-type shit, or how much of my life I've put into helping raise other people's children. Especially since I'd just spent essentially the whole weekend taking care of one of my brother's kids. It burns me that she's the only one.
My resentment over this random kind gesture is maybe why the universe threw so much other shit my way today: losing my keys, hurting my hand, the dead mouse in the kitchen, the broken trash can, and so forth. I wish I could stop getting practice in trying to find humor in the midst of all the depression I'm mired in. I feel like I'm as good at it as I'm going to get; I don't need<\/i> to practice more. Alas.<\/a>
The universe did throw me some small pleasures as well, today: I got to nap for nearly two hours, and there were about ten perfect strawberries on my wild strawberry plants. That was nice. I wanted to eat all of them myself in one decadent handful, but filial guilt made me take them back to my mother and share half of them.
Chicks are hopefully coming at the end of May. I'm trying to get in the habit of creating things to look forward to.","comments":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/253479.html?view=comments#comments","category":"meatworld"},{"guid":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/253372.html","pubDate":"Wed, 01 Jan 2025 04:21:55 GMT","title":"My broken house behind me and good things ahead","author":"thorne_scratch","link":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/253372.html","description":"I don't think I can use the \"Year XXXX will be my villain origin story!\" quip again, because I'm pretty sure I've used it in... 2014, 2016, and 2023 at the very least. But it might be the newest narrative arc of my villain story? 2024 was not as bad as 2023 in that getting shot in the knee isn't as bad as getting shot in the face, but it was still sub-optimal. It would be nice to start one of these with something positive for once, instead of \"wow that year sucked\" so I'm thinking real hard about what I can put down here.
1. After months of treatment, my brother finally made it to the cancer free status, huzzah. I never asked him if he rang the bell or had that opportunity. I should do that.
2. The 2023-2024 Capitals hilariously somehow Yakety-Saxed their way into the 2023 playoffs (-37 GOAL DIFFERENTIAL, YEAH, BABY, YEAH), even if they got swept. It was still a fun ride. The 2024-2025 Capitals have improved on their previous play.
3. Finally got the air conditioning fixed at my house, thanks to Lunar. (Status of raccoon issue at my house still unresolved.)
4. Took Mom and the two nephews and niece who live here strawberry picking in June, and it was fun. Kids ate so many strawberries, fed the goats, watched the bees, and were in general impressed by the farm life.
5. Did the duckling rental, and got to watch the nephews and niece rain green peas and adoration upon two very put-upon but well-loved ducklings (named, depending on which kid you asked, were Ducky-Wucky and Jon, Fluffy and Fuzzy, or Luke and Han).
6. Taught niece how to catch fireflies. Spent several summer evenings watching her go wild over it. Took her to the Chesapeake Beach, rolled up her pants and dress, and let her run around in water until she was wet to her waist, then had ice cream for dinner.
7. One of the difficult parts of this year was, oddly enough, rarely having time to be alone. I've spent over half the year living with my mother to make sure she's all right; I've had to start the transition of flipping the parent-child dynamic and becoming my mother's caretaker. I don't begrudge this; I would do it every time, but it's not fun. It's often annoying and painful and frustrating. But it has to be done. So, I keep trying to steal a few minutes to myself where I can. I can think of a couple times: Went to a cider festival alone, and had a good time despite the rain. Went to a Billy Collins reading that happened locally and got him to sign his book for me. Made a few trips out to Prince Frederick\/Chesapeake to leave flowers for Louise and walk along the boardwalk. Once or twice I went for a walk down to our local park and I found the section of the creek where I used to play with various neighborhood friends, and man, it was so big in my memory and so small in reality. So it goes.
8. Brother (same one who had cancer) managed to evacuate safely from wildfires and his family didn't lose his house or any belongings, though it came close.
9. Flew to California and watched West Coast nephew in his Nutcracker performance and got to tell him stories. It's nice to be loved by small children. Walked him to the bus stop for school in the morning on the last day, and it was so cold out that I could feel it crackling inside my lungs and nose when I breathed, but I could smell woodsmoke and the freshness of the mountains, and there was sunlight on the trees, and it was just a lovely, pure sensory moment. (Then I had to walk back up the hill to get back to the warm house, less fun.)
10. LUNAR AND TWIG ARE MOVING TO MARYLAND LUNAR BOUGHT A HOUSE HERE AND EVERYTHING THEY WILL BE WITHIN A 25 MINUTE DRIVE ACCESS NEARLY ALL THE TIME AHHHHHHHHH THIS IS SO AMAZING.<\/a>
Bonus: Just remembered my youngest nephew going batshit happy when I got him the right Paw Patrol truck this Christmas and running over to hug me spontaneously. Inject that into my veins, man.
I had some bad nights this year, where I lay awake and wondered if it was worth being alive. Never for more than a little while, and never with any real worrisome actions in mind; more of a complete inability to think of anything that was making me happy or worth caring about. Then, something fairly significant happened that wiped away one of my biggest problems with basically no repercussions to me. It was jaw-droppingly amazing how my state of mind improved. It's not a permanent fix, but it kept me from getting much worse. So, it's something to take with me into 2025-- sometimes you do get help when you don't expect or hope for it. And that's pretty good, isn't it?
Happy Year Year, everybody. See you on the flip side.","comments":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/253372.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/253023.html","pubDate":"Fri, 26 Apr 2024 06:43:33 GMT","title":"And our friends are all aboard, many more of them live next door","author":"thorne_scratch","link":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/253023.html","description":"Louise died on 4\/20. I used to wonder if she got some sort of post-life personal satisfaction from that; I hope so, because you'd like someone<\/i> to get some kind of benefit from it. Last year my dad died on 6\/9, so now I've been wondering if it's just a thing in my life where the people close to me are going to keep dying on meme-related memorable dates. If I had a nickel every time, etc. etc. And I mean, I hope<\/i> not, but it's something I'm keeping a wary eye on.
I realized a few days ago it was the tenth anniversary of when she died. In two more years, she'll have been gone for the same amount of time I knew her. All this felt much more symbolic when I was thinking about it and trying to fall asleep a few nights ago. Like, it felt like something Billy Collins would have written a poem about. Mostly what it got me was the aforementioned fear that everyone I love is going to die on weird dates. (Me dying isn't as high on my list of fears because that one fortune teller in New Orleans told me I was going to live well into my nineties and she seemed super confident about it. And if I've learned anything of late, it's that it kind of sucks to be the one left figuring out what to do in the wake of someone else dying. Having to do that for a lot of loved ones is something worth being afraid of.)
Unfortunately, I feel like most of my life problems only eventually get resolved when bigger and worse problems happen, because then you not only have<\/i> to figure shit out because worse shit is happening, but it does then tend to put the original shit in perspective. Does that make sense? When Louise died, I was still really afraid of driving long distances and to places didn't know; driving back and forth to her house to help her mom sort stuff eventually got me used to it out of necessity. When my dad died, I was afraid of submitting my taxes without having him look them over or consulting him on pretty much all financial things; now I not only do my own taxes but organize my mother's, who also has no idea of what to do with them. When my mom got sick and needed heart surgery, I got used to driving to hospitals, talking to doctors, talking to nurses, filling medications, setting up oxygen machines, and making her eat. When my brother got sick-- well, I didn't do as much, but I've been sending money.
I mean, it's not very<\/i> sustainable, because solving your problems by needing to get past them to resolve bigger problems is a sort of unfortunate positive feedback loop. But I am to understand that's kind of how life works in general, and it's the only game in town. Alas.
I've been trying to figure out replacing my air conditioning which is basically on the verge of collapse. Last summer I got around it because I essentially lived from June to October with my mother in her house, watching after her; this year, I could probably do that again but I really do need to replace it at some point. I thought I'd get to it this spring, but I've dumped more money to my brother than I thought I'd have to, and I still might need to send more, so I'm holding off.
And, to be honest, I've also be holding off because I've been suspecting I have an additional problem which may or may not be bigger. Sandy, my neighbor with whom I am always secretly feuding, came knocking on my door and dragged me to her backyard to point out that I had a possible hole in my roof siding, and she had seen raccoons on the roof the night before. And I realized that the scratching and scrambling noises I've been hearing above my bedroom of late might not be roof noises; they might be actually in my goddamn attic already.
(This is also the bit in the story where I have the grizzled flashback to 2012 or so, when I had to trap and relocate the raccoons who would run across the roof at night, and ended up releasing one of them essentially into the Rockville metro station by mistake. I use that story as an icebreaker at work events all the time, but I am not so eager to revisit it in actuality.)
I have access to my unfinished attic space through one of those collapsing pull-down ladders through a trapdoor in my closet ceiling. I have not actually ever looked in my attic space in the entire time I've lived here. I may have looked briefly when I bought the house, but only because my realtor made me. Such is my fear of that one scene from the Grudge where the girl does it, and gets her jaw ripped out by am angry Japanese ghost. I'm not sure what would be worse to open the panel and stick my head up and see, either an angry revenge ghost or a family of raccoons. Honestly, this is the kind of thing I would legitimately consider getting on a dating app of some kind, dragging someone home and banging them a few times, and then convince them in the halcyon days of our initial hookup to look in the attic for me. It's also where I miss Louise because she would have been willing to do it.
In terms of problem solving, I suppose I'll start by dragging the old trap out of my basement, set it in my back yard, and see if I can catch any raccoons again. The internet tells me that this could be a problem, because if there are already baby raccoons in my attic and I don't get both parents, one of the parents could try to get back in. And if I do get both, then the babies could die up in my attic! To which I say, well, that will be a problem for Future Me if and when they start smelling.
I mean, the only other option is to consider sending up some kind of python to eat them, like that Australian lady I met in New York once described to me. Not that she sent them up, just that in Australia, they would get possums in the attic and then the pythons would go in after the possums to try and eat them, and then you have to call out both the possum exterminator and the python exterminator. Most of me knows it would be a bad idea. The Simpsons totally covered this. But it's a thought. At any rate, the cage seems the most manageable thing to start with for a first attempt at problem solving. If I catch one, or more than one, I will have to think of a better place to release them than in a metro parking lot this time.<\/a>
Anyway. Speaking of animal life in the house, next week I get the ducklings in from the farm rental for my nephews and niece. Ducks come first this year; the chicks come in June. I'm looking forward to it, not only because I<\/i> like baby ducks, but because my youngest nephew loves<\/i> baby ducks. I have a video that I once shot of letting him see them in the box for the first time, and it's one of the purest examples of childish joy and wonder and surprise I've ever seen. I rewatch it whenever I need cheering up. Expect far too many pictures.","comments":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/253023.html?view=comments#comments","category":["meatworld","louise","chicks"]},{"guid":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/252555.html","pubDate":"Mon, 01 Jan 2024 02:18:31 GMT","title":"This scene ends badly, as you can imagine","author":"thorne_scratch","link":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/252555.html","description":"2023 was an annus horribilis, or possibly just an anus. I can't think of a damn positive thing to say about it. I can't think of anything<\/i> about it in broad strokes except all the shit that happened! Most of the last six months are just awkwardly compartmentalized away in some dark and spider-ridden part of my brain; at some point I'm going to have to look at and deal with them, but that's a job for 2024 Thorne, I guess.
I can think of plenty of ways next year can be just as bad, if not worse, so I'm just going to hope for better.
Happy Year Year, everybody. See you on the flip side.","comments":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/252555.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/252391.html","pubDate":"Sun, 01 Jan 2023 02:55:46 GMT","title":"Locking eyes, holding hands","author":"thorne_scratch","link":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/252391.html","description":"To start off, I had NOTHING to do with Pope Benedict dying. I want to make that clear from the beginning. But it made me think about how that lady tackled him at Mass<\/a>, and how when telling me that story, I learned about the Swiss Guard playing pickup basketball with the Legionaries of Christ.
thornescratch:<\/b> I'll always remember standing in the Vatican garden outside his funny little office tower thing
thornescratch:<\/b> Looking up at the open window
thornescratch:<\/b> And wondering if he could kill me with lasers for having improper thoughts in the Vatican
thornescratch:<\/b> Also my cousin telling me about how he and some of the other priest candidates sometimes played shirts and skins pick up basketball with the Swiss Guard and wondering what he thought of that
thornescratch:<\/b> My cousin I mean
thornescratch:<\/b> Not the pope
thornescratch:<\/b> Though I'm sure if the pope played shirts and skins pick up basketball the Swiss Guard would let him win
thornescratch:<\/b> Maybe they would have been obligated to help him dunk
thornescratch:<\/b> Like all those dudes Putin plays hockey against
thornescratch:<\/b> Diving out of the way whenever he shoots
Now that we have that out of the way.
When I opened lj to write my tradition NYE entry, I found saved text from my last draft that I hadn't posted, which was about Louise's mother dying. Which happened back in February. So you can see how often I've been opening lj. It was not unexpected, and in retrospect, this made her last conversation with me make sense. She wanted me to take a lot of crystal and china. I already have, like, four different sets of crystal and China from various people (including her) but she talked about how much it would mean to her to know it was still in use and to maybe come by and eat off it with me, and. Like. I'm not a monster<\/i>. So I said yes.
When I went to the wake, I had my inevitable run-in with Louise's aunt<\/a>. Lot more weeping this time. Same funeral home as before. The next time I go there will either be for Louise's father or Mike's mother, though I don't know if there'll be anyone left to notify me; Mike probably will. The funeral was the next day, and I spent most of it being polite to people I only ever see at funerals. This includes one of Louise;s high school friends who is now a grandmother, and finding out that bit of knowledge and knowing we were the same age took me out at the knees. Louise's aunt cried on me some more. I'm still bad at being comforting, so I tried to make her feel better by eating a lot of the weird sweetened wheat dish you get at Bulgarian funerals; no one was eating it and she seemed distraught by this. Since there is no mayo in it, this was not as difficult as when I had to eat potato salad for Louise's mom, but it was a lot of wheat. One must do what they can, though. And I left the funeral full of boiled wheat and with several boxes of crystal\/china, which I must now wait the sufficient period before I can tactfully donate it.
You know, I let my lj revert back to a standard free account because obviously I'm not really using it enough to warrant a paid one, but it vexes me which icons are left, because they're not what I would have chosen. But it doesn't really seem worth the risk to let my credit card information fall into the hands of Russian bot-thugs to buy a new package, nor the annoying shuffle and re-upload of deleting and finding new ones. Kind of a low priority problem amongst the things currently making up my top ten (needing a root canal, someone shooting a hole through one of my windows, various health issues, goddamn coworker quitting and pulling a reverse uno on me right when she was set to take over two of my projects I'd finally succeeded in transferring out, existential dread over dying alone and unloved, etc.) but still.
In a couple days I get a Flidget! That makes up for all of it. Mostly. We shall need so much bail money.
It's raining out, but the Caps just won their game and scored nine goddamn goals, and my brother just called with his two kids to wish me Happy New Year, and my niece told me she loved me, and I spent like six hours sitting on a bench and talking to a good friend yesterday, and I had a great visit with Twig and Lunar a few months ago, and I have clean sheets, and slow cooker pork chops, and a bottle of sparkling wine on the ready. It feels like the last couple years are a nonstop slog, but I've found good moments.
Happy Year Year, everybody. See you on the flip side.","comments":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/252391.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/251912.html","pubDate":"Sat, 01 Jan 2022 03:04:36 GMT","title":"Trading swigs from a bottle, all bitter and clean","author":"thorne_scratch","link":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/251912.html","description":"I had all this ambition of doing a real entry, and then things went a bit to shit. I'm tired all the time. The house still floods. Work is bad. Everyone around me keeps having medical crises. Big things, and little things-- my mouth feels constantly raw at the edges, and the skin at the corner of my lips keeps splitting and not healing in sync, first one side, then the other. As soon as one side finally closes, the other one's all fucked. It makes smiling (and annoyingly and much more importantly, eating potato chips) difficult, and seems uncomfortably metaphorical.
And yet. I can work remotely so I don't need to wake up at fuck o clock in the morning every day. I have a house. I have a job. I have a new Star Wars show to nitpick with my friends. I've been very lucky with my health, and so far (knock on wood) my loved ones have also all come through, and we're mostly all vaccinated.
I would have really preferred not<\/i> to have had as much involvement with scrotal gangrene as I have this year, but I suppose one must look at it as a learning opportunity.
And there are good moments. Today I saw the Van Gogh immersive exhibition, and it was worth the price, very much so. It's hard to sit in a giant room, surrounded by moving projections of his sunflowers and fields and crabs and birds and stars and skies, and not<\/i> feel happy about being suffused in beauty and art. The exhibit also incorporates music and excerpts from his letters and quotes. And he said so many thoughtful things, and Van Gogh was brilliant, but I can't believe the one quote from near the end of his life-- the sadness will last forever.<\/i>
It doesn't. It won't.
Happy Year Year, everybody. See you on the flip side.","comments":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/251912.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/251689.html","pubDate":"Sun, 23 May 2021 06:51:34 GMT","title":"Ra Ra Rasputin, Russia's greatest love machine","author":"thorne_scratch","link":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/251689.html","description":"The cicadas of Brood X are here, though it keeps throwing me off because I'm used to cicadas in general showing up in July and August rather than May. Cicadas are associated with mid to late summer in my mind, the noise of them and the way they just sorta drunkenly bumble through their business. Having them here now in May just adds another level of surrealness, though it's not like everything isn't surreal enough already, what with the pandemic and so forth. It's hot enough now to feel like deeper summer, though. Last night I was driving back from the store with the car windows down late at night, and it felt<\/i> like summer, all warm and velvety.
Last year, I actually did get to pay more attention to spring, since we were all working from home and in lockdown. This spring, I feel like I missed everything because work just demands too much. My birthday is in three days, and that's just not registering with me either. At some point I ended up in the back half of my thirties? I have a mortgage and shit? I'm as surprised as you.
One of the other things throwing me off is that I once again did the ducking and chicken rental for the kids, but usually they time it so chickens come first, around Easter-ish time, then ducks in June. (And apparently they're also doing turkeys this year in July. I didn't sign up for that one because I don't fuck with turkeys unless they're in the freezer section of the grocery store. Not even in cute baby form where I would supposedly have the upper hand.) this year, they flipped it, so I just finished off the week of ducks at the start of May, and chickens will be coming up next week or so as June begins. Backwards!
As always, I got way too attached and thought longingly of stealing them and how I could somehow begin doing urban duck and chicken raising, but by the end of the week, I did consent to give them back sadly. The kids got a lot more out of it this year-- they were old enough to actually be able to handle the ducklings on their own, though given Nate is in heavy dinosaur phase, I had to answer a chain of questions on if Tyrannosauruses would eat ducks. Tommy mostly shrieked at them happily and flung peas, but since the ducks learned to tolerate baby yelling noises in exchange for peas, that all worked out.
...Penny did throw a duck. In her defense, it was more of a startled toss, and she tossed it in a wading pool, and it was not one of my<\/i> ducks, but apparently there were long conversations about when it is okay to toss a duck (rarely, though there are some applicable circumstances) and how we have to be especially gentle with baby animals. Hopefully it sank in. The good thing about being an aunt is you don't have to always be the one to try and logic with a four year old.
At any rate, they got a week of being given their fill of frozen peas and duck feed, and grumpily allowed me to cuddle them, and peeped their little heads off while pooping with great abandon, so even if it wasn't the best week of their lives (it was actually the second week of their lives; you get the ducks when they're about a week old) it hopefully was a good one. In the grand tradition of naming them after Washington Capitals, this is Oshbabe and Dilly Dilly.
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I went down to see Louise's parents a couple weeks ago; normally we do our meet-up at the awards ceremony at the college, but since that was virtual again this year (a trend I approve of, as no one likes award ceremonies, and keeping them short and sweet and in a format during which I can browse AO3 except for the actual 30 seconds I need to pay attention to is much to my preference) I put the visit off until a week after her death anniversary, which coincided with Orthodox\/Bulgarian Easter. I also learned from the last time I did this particular date<\/a>, and simply didn't eat anything ahead of time. I figured if I was hungry enough, it wouldn't matter if Louise's mom tried to make me eat my weight in potato salad again.
Fortunately for me, that was not on the menu though there were several other mayo-heavy dishes, and I plowed ahead with grim resolve accordingly. I was able to eat enough to please her mother, which is a tall task. The major problem with visiting them is no longer actually the issue of having to eat too much mayonnaise. The issue is, uh. The crazy racism. I've always known her folks were conservative, but the past couple years have morphed a lot of their politics into Fox news talking points, and it's depressing.
The last time this happened, I had hoped it was kind of a drunken one-off, as we were having post-awards dinner at a seafood restaurant. The waitress gave Louise's mother the equivalent of a full goddamn water glass of Johnny Walker Black, and somehow we started talking about open borders and... disaster. Louise's mother is an immigrant who fled communist Bulgaria in her youth, and her perspective is she did everything the right way to come to America so everyone else should too. I think she's legitimately terrified of communism happening in the United States, so, I mean there's a lot of emotional baggage background going on there. But, then Black Lives Matters comes up and it was just a long slide down a depressing rabbit hole of trying to get the conversational rails somewhat stable, and failing.
Like, I know it's important to call out ignorance and racism when we run into it, especially with those we love or are close to. But at the same time, I was sitting there trying to figure out if the emotional fallout of detonating the relationship with my dead best friend's drunk mother in a crab cake restaurant after an award ceremony that that meant to commemorate her dead daughter was... like, it wasn't so much considering if it was worth the effort, but if I had the mental wherewithal to do it, and I kinda didn't. So I did not! And I was mad about it all the way back up 495-N, and also wished I had at least ordered the bigger size of crabcake so I could have had that small, petty pleasure.
Anyway, it happened again a couple times after that, and since I was always around for some kind of Louise-related thing-- her birthday, her death anniversary, Mother's Day, etc.-- it always feels terribly awkward to weigh the \"am I being a shit human being by basically just trying to navigate the landmines in this conversation without forthrightly stating I think she's full of shit?\" vs. \"Am I a shit human being if I can or can't make my dead best friend's mother cry on the anniversary of her daughter's death?\" I don't know. It's hard for me to figure out. It's frustrating. There are so many people out there who are both kind and awful at the same time.
At one point during the last visit, while we were sitting on the porch and I was doing mental parkour to conduct the conversation in such a way as it didn't have any chance to light upon politics or current events, we noticed a box turtle crawling across the lawn. We spent the next half hour watching and talking about the turtle excitedly. So, if you can't figure out the ethics and social niceties of tolerating\/calling out problematic conversations, my best advice is to bring a turtle. That fucking turtle saved the afternoon. Godspeed to him, wherever he ended up.
This has been the first year I haven't had to plan a baby or bridal shower for someone else. The pandemic did do me a solid there. One of my good friends from high school had a virtual baby shower on Zoom, and I did go out of my way to attend it. It was excruciatingly boring, though at least I could drink during it, as long as I kept my glass off screen.<\/a>
I'm sure hockey is about to piss me off something awful, but I currently don't have the energy to get as bent out of shape about it as in past years. I mean, I'm sure I will<\/i> get pretty pissed at some point, but right now, it's just lower on the list.","comments":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/251689.html?view=comments#comments","category":["meatworld","ducks","louise"]},{"guid":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/251470.html","pubDate":"Tue, 20 Apr 2021 07:37:22 GMT","title":"The way somebody comes back, but only in a dream","author":"thorne_scratch","link":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/251470.html","description":"
Recently I was in bed, warm and comfortable, and then sat up in a panic because I remembered that I'd scheduled a donation pickup for the next morning and they always show up at the crack of dawn to collect in my neighborhood so I had to get up and handle it NOW.
Somehow in the process of hauling out the bag of clothes and books and random tchotchkes I'd put aside, I decided that it looked paltry and that the good people of the Lupus Foundations would JUDGE ME FOR IT, and stumbled into my basement to hunt out more random donatable crap I could put in boxes and get out of my life and into someone else's. (I do not actually think the charity workers of the donation planned to judge me; sleep deprivation is just a hell of a thing.)<\/p>
A lot of the stuff in the basement is Louise's, and I have an awful time getting rid of it because emotions are strange and even though my brain can tell me intellectually that I do not need that box of crappy Halloween decorations from our 2012 Halloween party, another part of my brain panics and thinks that if I get rid of them, maybe I'll lose the memory of that party, and the memories of our other Halloweens, and also, like, maybe she will come back and haunt me. It's not rational! (The memory bit, anyway. The haunting is very much on the table.) But it's also not worth torturing myself over, so I get rid of stuff when I have the emotional strength, and try not to worry too much about it when I don't. I have tried to donate her ski boots like four times now, and every time I've chickened out. Last time I got them all the way to the donation center before putting them back in my trunk.
If there's one thing the whole COVID-19 quarantine helped me with, it's that it actually made it easier to throw away or donate a lot of stuff. I'm not sure why, except everything was so surreal already, it felt like everything I did didn't really count, or something. All the rules were different.
Anyway, I was having a go at putting some of the really extraneous Halloween stuff in a box, which included dithering over her slutty pumpkin costume. This was, of course, inspired from the same slutty pumpkin costume of the How I Met Your Mother fame, and from one of our Halloween parties. She and one of her work friends both wore slutty pumpkin outfits, something that I recall secretly resenting. Not because I wanted <\/i>to dress as a slutty pumpkin-- Christ, no-- but I was more than a little miffed that she asked her work friend and not me<\/i>, and I vaguely remember how we drunkenly got into it later that night. She said something kinda mean about my fashion sense, and I retaliated by saying something along the lines of oh yeah well your sweater looks like a pile of labias (I distinctly remember that insult, anyway), and we had a very awkward domestic argument in front of her work friend, who was on the verge of passing out drunk anyway.
It was not one of my finer moments.
Anyway, I did donate it in the end, though her ski boots are still hanging out in my foyer. Maybe I'll manage to let them go this year! I also kept the fog machine, because honestly I can think of a lot of instances where I might need a fog machine. And I got rid of another bag of her clothes, which I work through slowly, and which I keep in her old room anyway, because even though I wear and use some of them, it's easier to keep track of them there. I have a great fear of accidentally wearing something significant of hers when I visit her parents. This very nearly happened the last time I was out there, which was when I went out to support Mike, Louise's ex-boyfriend, and maker of the famous Platypus Bell, which featured heavily in my college livejournal entries, when his father passed away.
Mike and I have a strange relationship, where we both are aware that Louise was basically the only thing holding us together as friends, and now that she's gone, we really don't have anything in common except for her and also the fact we both like hiking at Great Falls. We can't stop, exactly, but both of us keep going on changing, and the one thing that we were connected on is very much not changing. Or rather, there are never any new updates on it. It's like we're stuck in time, or, like-- the best way I can describe it is like being obligated to go to a high school reunion every year, but with only two people attending. (We also have a weird thing where we know basically, uh, way too much about each other's sex lives despite never having had sex with each other<\/i>; it's because not only did Louise basically tell me everything they did, Louise and I also slept six feet away from each other in a shared room for sophomore and junior years of college, and Mike was also over there in her bed half the time. Hence, Mike and I are uncomfortably aware that we both know what went on in the dark. We just don't talk about it.)
We try not to openly acknowledge the weirdness though, because we also both know for a fact that we remain linked and are committed to meeting at least once a year with her parents, usually for the scholarship awards ceremony in her honor at college, and we'll have to continue that until her parents die, or one of us moves out of state. Or one of us dies! Hopefully not as likely, though. The whole thing feels oddly intimate, despite our growing distance from each other's lives, and we have a mutual unspoken agreement to basically never acknowledge it unless absolutely necessary, much like the sex life knowledge thing.
So, Mike' father died a while ago, and because there's apparently only one funeral home that services that section of Assfuck Nowhere Maryland, it's the same one that Louise was waked (woken? laid out?) at. It's... weird. It's very rural, and my clearest memory of it was its shitty parking lot, staring at the closed coffin and wondering what they had dressed her in but being unable to think of a way to ask, and getting cornered by Louise's aunt by the cremation jewelry display and being unable to escape. (This will be significant later.)
This was not something that filled me with anticipation to go to again, but I grimly got a bunch of fancy bread and jams together to give Mike as a "Sorry someone died and I didn't get it together enough in time to send flowers" present since he told me they already had a lot of casseroles, shoved them in the car, put on something suitably dark and subdued that I verified was <i>not<\/i> something of Louise's, and drove two hours through the pouring rain back to southern Maryland.
Now, I have had my fair share of funerals for the point I'm at in my life, for both relatives and friends and acquaintances, and let me tell you. Yes, funerals are for the living. But they still suck. Like, every now and then if you don't really have an emotional attachment to the person going into the ground or their loved ones, and there's associated drama, they can be interesting<\/i>. And sometimes if you have the right kind of family and circumstances, someone gets into a fistfight or drunk, and they're briefly exciting. But they're not an optimal way to spend the afternoon, and wakes are even less so. Funerals get you out of work. Wakes don't. But wakes are usually unspoken required attendance as well, so you grit your teeth and drag yourself to the funeral home out of love and honor for the deceased, or the deceased's loved ones. Or, like, if you're afraid the deceased will turn into a ghost and start shaking all your light fixtures if you don't come. Also valid.
Wakes are emotionally more exhausting, I think, because you're not even at the end of the thing, yet. You still have to do the actual funeral. But the funeral at least has guidelines and routines that most folks adhere to. Wakes are more unpredictable. They're the lead up to the main event, where you mostly end up telling the family how sorry you are (or, get told how sorry everyone is for you) and trying to share appropriate memories and milling randomly through a funeral home in order to run the gauntlet with its pit stops of family, casket, not-family people you still have to talk to, maybe another trip to the casket, and then escaping. They're a weird liminal space between the death and everything getting finalized.
Anyway, I'm making my way through a crowd of people I do not know in the least in order to tell Mike I'm sorry his dad is dead, and also here's some bread, when I hear my name getting said very loudly and I realized someone there did know me and I was going to have to make conversation while trying to figure out who they were. Fortunately, I worked it out pretty quickly—it was Louise's aunt, and she cornered me by the same damn place as last time, where there's this simultaneously interesting and depressing display of the various ways you can have your loved one's remains turned into jewelry or some kind of trinket.
So, Louise's aunt (who is actually her second cousin, or something) met me for the first time some years earlier when she and other members of Louise's family had come to our house to pick up Louise for fancy dinner in DC. At the time, I was watching a hockey game and came to the door for introductions in full jersey and beer in hand, with the television on the background. While they were at dinner, Louise's aunt apparently quizzed her for like TWENTY GODDAMN MINUTES on my sexuality. Louise prevaricated like a champ, but eventually her aunt concluded with great satisfaction, "I THOUGHT she had that kind of face."
This surprised me upon hearing—I've got gay face, apparently!—since I didn't even have a properly butch haircut. Like, lady, a hockey jersey and some powerplay cursing isn't exactly lesbian sirens, but whatever. I figured I was never gonna meet her again, so it didn't matter. But of course, I did.
When Louise died, this aunt had been very <\/i>solicitous of me, both during the wake, and the funeral, and the reception afterwards, and so forth. Now, at the reception, she was a little boozed up but it still seemed a little odd to me how often I was getting hugged and had my hands being held in both of hers (I never know what to do when someone does this to me coincidentally. It's like when I have to do the European double cheek air kiss) and other gestures. There were promises to meet up again, of course they would have asked me to do a eulogy but thought it would have been too emotionally crippling, and a long, fifteen-minute speech on the people Louise chose to surround herself with, and Louise being someone who always recognized quality, and lived in the moment, and so forth.
It took me more than a day to figure it out, but then I remembered something while driving home. This was the aunt who thought I had gay face and was kind of fixated on that topic. I truly somehow did not notice it at the time, but instead of Mike (who was dating someone else by then), I<\/i> was being treated as the grieving spouse\/significant other by most of her extended family.
Which, actually, was not too far off the truth, but I honestly still can't work out if they think I was just holding a secret flame in my heart, or if they think we really did have something going on, or what. Given the fact her aunt is VERY southern and kind of a hardcore conservative, that's probably... nice? I guess? Or she was hitting on me which I think is much less likely. I still get Christmas cards from her!
Anyway, Louise's aunt yet again cornered me by the corpse jewelry, and I had to go through the whole song and dance with her again where she inquired about my life as a still grieving widow, and it was very surreal but also weirdly interesting, which I had not expected to get at a wake. I thought it was going to be normal boring. Louise's extended relatives were the kind of people who refer to the Civil War as The War of Northern Aggression, and who ranted about Obama, and think the COVID-19 vaccine is a government plot to convert us all into Chinese citizens. I have no idea why they seem to make an exception for me in their minds as Secret Gay Face Lover of their dearly departed. Perhaps because until the hockey I had always been fairly polite and rarely loud around them. I think they liked that I owned my own house. They felt I was a solid if unexciting spousal prospect.
I put most of my thoughts on Louise here because no one's on LiveJournal anymore, and I can feel like I'm talking out loud but not bothering anyone. It's like yelling shit at the ocean, or something. If the ocean was a mostly deserted online wasteland populated mostly by Russian bots.<\/a>
Anyway. It's been seven years. I miss her.","comments":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/251470.html?view=comments#comments","category":"louise"},{"guid":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/251221.html","pubDate":"Thu, 31 Dec 2020 20:48:43 GMT","title":"There will be feasting and dancing In Jerusalem next year","author":"thorne_scratch","link":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/251221.html","description":"What a weird fucking year this was. It doesn't even feel possible to eulogize it, not the least reason being it doesn't feel safe to assume it'll die properly, or at all. I've seen horror movies; I know how this shit goes.
Comparatively, I've been lucky. My various social media platforms keep turning up memories of places I've visited around this time of year in past years, and that all seems so long ago-- I used to go<\/i> places? Do<\/i> things? See<\/i> people? My God!-- and even if this past year has been not so much with being able to see friends and family, I still have most of them.
But seriously, this year sucked and I just want it over. Let's hope for the best, prepare for the worst, and shoot down the middle in 2021. Also, stock up on booze.
Anyway. Happy New Year, everybody. See you on the flip side.","comments":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/251221.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/251094.html","pubDate":"Wed, 30 Sep 2020 05:06:09 GMT","title":"God builds a church, the devil builds a chapel","author":"thorne_scratch","link":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/251094.html","description":"This has been a terrible week of epic proportions and I don't want to write about any of the things that have actually happened, so I won't.
I like to grocery shop at weird hours, usually late at night. This is for a couple different reasons, not the least of which is I just like doing a lot of shit without people up in my business. In these (unprecedented) times, it's also easier to get around without a bunch of people there to potentially infect you with a horrifying virus. Late shoppers tend to have the whole thing down pat; we all mind our business and whip up and down the aisles with a minimum of contact with each other. Terse nods as you pass is pretty much the extent of interaction.
There's also less judgement and no one to answer to regarding my regular impulse buying. It's one of the highlights of singledom, honestly. I already have twenty boxes of tea at home, but hey, why not try that *squints* cold infusion watermelon and mint tea. I have mint tea; I have watermelon tea, but I don't have any watermelon mint tea. Quail eggs? They're so teeny! I want to do something with these teeny tiny eggs. I don't know what<\/i>, but I'll think of something. BACON. OOOH BUTCHER CUT BACON IS ON SALE. And at the end of the day, if I end up not liking the quail eggs or the tea, or wanted to eat a meal solely of bacon, guess who gets to do that. I mean, my common sense does fight back sometimes, but I can beat that asshole back about two out of three times.
...The downside of shopping at these hours is that you tend to miss out on the fresh bread and baked goods, and if it's the type of store where they use the last hour or two to start cleaning and rearranging things, it feels like I'm being a horrible bother to the store employees; plus, they always stack the new goods in such a way that it's like navigating a haunted hedge maze to get to certain areas. This evening, I spent a good while calculating if I could get around one such pallet to my preferred brand of boneless chicken thighs, only to give up and buy the organic Purdue ones because they were the only ones I could reach without climbing somewhere I shouldn't. I still feel kind of resentful, because they were destined for the crockpot and frankly the much cheaper store brand thighs would have been fine.
Anyway, one of the things I also like shopping late at night is that most of the grocery stores I frequent have those gigantic stadium style lights for their parking lots. On a rainy night like this, I like walking out of the store at eleven and seeing the way they light the rain up. I like to stand in the nearly deserted parking lot and watch the way the rain seems to come out of nowhere in the black and then briefly shine in the light, all these individual myriad drops. It's even better with misting rain, and snow is the best of all, or my favorite to watch, anyway.
I hope there's a word in another language for the feeling you get while watching it, observing something trivial but briefly lovely in the process of going about the never ending process of everyday stuff like buying food and shit to keep yourself alive and going. (And, like. Hopefully, something less maudlin than the plastic bag speech from American Beauty.) Or the even more specific feeling of holding a bag of pre-snowstorm victuals in a parking lot, watching it start to snow and not knowing the outcome for tomorrow-- maybe it's going to be a pain in the ass commute! or maybe the freedom of working from home in pajamas!-- but amidst the uncertainty, at least there's something primitively comforting about holding food while observing inclement weather. Ideally, you should be momentarily unsure if you've gotten stuck in a Tom Waits song.
Anyway. It's raining and I got both wet and cold while holding a plastic bag of organic chicken thighs, marked down day-old Kaiser rolls, string cheese (I got the kind with the Frozen 2 characters on them because it was two dollars cheaper, though now knowing when Frozen 2 came out makes me kinda second-think this) and barbecue sauce, standing and staring at the parking lots lights for a while with no one to judge me but God and the employee dude bringing in the escaped grocery carts.
You have to take your little moments of zen when you can find them, and sometimes they're in the middle of the Safeway parking lot at 11:30 PM. That's okay.","comments":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/251094.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/250801.html","pubDate":"Sun, 16 Aug 2020 08:40:06 GMT","title":"Cross the water and home through the town","author":"thorne_scratch","link":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/250801.html","description":"I think my garbage disposal is broken, or it leaks and I can't figure out why. (This is a lot like everything else going on in my life right now.) So this morning, instead of calling the plumber and doing something about it, I left my kitchen scattered with all the things I'd had to pull out from the gross crevice under the sink, took my purse, a plum, a peach, a bottle of Coke, got in my car, and drove until I hit ocean.
This is not too<\/i> difficult, because I live in Maryland, and if you point yourself in the right direction and traffic isn't hideous, you can hit ocean in a little over an hour from where I live. But I just had to get away from everyone and everything for a day, especially my family. I love them! But they drive me insane at times, and sometimes I just don't want them to know what I'm doing, even when it's something as innocuous as an unplanned day trip. I decided to do it at four in the morning the night before, while I was lying awake and still being angry at hockey and the world.
It was nice. I walked on the boardwalk and the piers, and I ate ice cream. I went to an antiques store and bought a book about gnomes and a book about Estonian fairy tales. I talked myself out of buying some antique Japanese cups. I poked through all the little shops on the main drag at my own precise leisure and bought shit I didn't need but wanted anyway. There's very few joys like exploring something at exactly the pace you want to without feeling obligated to someone else and their own time or pace. It rained off and on several times. I looked at koi in a fishpond. I considered breaking my diet for a plate of fries but the restaurant was crowded and half the people I'd seen walking around weren't wearing masks, and so it didn't seem worth the risk. Instead, I didn't talk to a single person except the people I bought things from. I bought a glass of wine and drank it in my socially distanced chair on a quiet bit of boardwalk, and then I got in my car and drove back in the direction of home.
On the way back, I decided to go leave flowers for Louise, in part because I intended to say that was what I had been doing if anyone asked where I had gone today, or what I had done. (It's useful for keep conversations from getting too involved, too. No one wants to poke the emotional dead friend bear.) And then I figured, I was close enough to go anyway, and then I wouldn't be lying about it, even if Louise would have probably encouraged me to use her as an excuse in some misadventure lie. My mother says I am not a good liar, though this is not true, as I have gotten away with some whoppers in the past. But it's useful to be thought of as a bad liar, because then no one expects it or can tell when you are<\/i> lying.
And anyway, I hadn't been to her grave since June, so I swung into Giant on the way and grabbed a 9.99 bouquet, and then went and had a spirited conversation with her while getting them arranged nicely in the vase and cleaning birdshit off the gravestone. And then it started raining quite hard, and it seemed too on the nose for me to deal with, so I finished up and went home properly.
This month has been shit. I want to be done with this month. But August persists on... Augusting, and therefore I keep slogging through it.","comments":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/250801.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/250429.html","pubDate":"Wed, 01 Jan 2020 05:46:01 GMT","title":"Raise my hands, paint my spirit gold","author":"thorne_scratch","link":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/250429.html","description":"I've been in Orlando for the past couple days, drinking and eating my face off with ![](\"https:\/\/l-stat.livejournal.net\/img\/userinfo_v8.png?v=17080&v=916.1\")
<\/a>eramundo<\/b><\/a><\/span>, <\/a>kaitou1412<\/b><\/a><\/span>, and <\/a>flidgetjerome<\/b><\/a><\/span>. Most of the time was spent happily screaming about what made us angry in the Harry Potter franchise (a lot!) and drinking around the world in Epcot. It was lovely. I always forget how nice it is to spend extended amounts of time with people I like. You would think this would not be a life lesson I have to keep remembering, but I am kinda bad at it.
2019 had a lot of weird shit happen in it, but I got another nephew and a Nats world series win, so it wasn't all bad. And I have friends and family I love and that love me. So, I'll get by.
May you all quickly get used to writing 2020 and not screw your date writing up too often.
Happy Year Year, everybody. See you on the flip side.","comments":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/250429.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/250200.html","pubDate":"Fri, 02 Aug 2019 05:41:00 GMT","title":"Dear Author letter for ALL CAPS Exchange 2019","author":"thorne_scratch","link":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/250200.html","description":"So, here's my Dear Author letter for ALL CAPS Exchange. I continue to basically post the same thing, and just change it up minimally and hope no one notices.
First of all, thank you! I really appreciate that you're writing this, and I will look forward to it so much! I'm not sure how much info you're looking for, but here are my strongest likes\/dislikes, some pairing-specific thoughts, and some more general info.
I Don't Like:
Super angsty stuff\/unhappy endings. I mean, angst and pining and whatnot on the way to getting to the ending is cool, and while I'm fine with general angst and h\/c, my personal preference is for at least equal amounts of c to the h, and happy (or open\/hopeful) endings.
Cheating, infidelity, and partner\/teammate betrayal. I'm not against people being normal dicks, especially since many players all have their share of dick moments! But I really hate it when a player is, like, unnecessarily or over the top characterized as a dick or Evil Evil So Very Evil. (Basically, just not fond of character bashing. You wanna make someone an OTT villain, I'm actually there for it if it's also funny.)
Straight up non-con. This relates to the partner\/teammate betrayal, because I can't see most of these guys doing it to each other. I'm not against non and dub-con in RPF fic in certain contexts, but I'd prefer not to see it in any of my selected pairings for this exchange.
Background other team pairings. I'd like the focus to stay on the Caps. (I mean, that's the point of the exchange!) So, unless it's incredibly vital and relevant to the plot, I'm really not into (even in passing) mention of, say, background Toews\/Kane, or Benn\/Seguin, or anyone from the Penguins, or whatever. Other Caps background pairings are fine. Basically, just keep it in-team, if that's okay?
Genderswitch and mpreg. Sorry, this one's a specific thing to hockey RPF. I just have really picky tastes, so it's easier to take it off the table.
Over the Top Woobification\/Whump\/Infantilization\/Space Toaster\/Stereotypical Top-Bottom. This is a little more difficult to articulate because it's so subjective to some people. Here's the fanlore entry on Woobies. I hate sounding like a grump but... look, most of these players, even the smaller ones, are still built like brick shithouses, and they whack at other people with sticks for a living, and are mostly competent at it. And yes, some of them aren't huge or physical. Some of the younger dudes are just that-- younger guys still growing, with the in-process physical and emotional maturity you might expect.
I Do Like:
Lots of stuff, really. Everything else is on the table. OH HEY THE CAPS WON THE CUP. YOU CAN WRITE ME DAMN NEAR ANYTHING ABOUT THE CAPS WINNING THE CUP AND I'LL PROBABLY BE OVERJOYED. DID YOU KNOW THE CAPS WON THE CUP? BECAUSE THE CAPS WON THE CUP!
Had to get that out of my system, sorry, not sorry.
One of my bulletproof tropes is weird shit that forces people to deal with bizarre stuff in a rational way, like figuring out how players deal with transforming into a eagle, or body swap, or whatever. I especially like it when you see the different dynamics of people, like the ones who just roll with it, and the ones who freak out, and the ones who end up being surprisingly good at dealing with it, or what have you.
Other things I like include: Humor. Hockey hugs. Five Times fics. Magical realism. Odd Couple dynamics. Culture clash. Affection. Food. Wacky hijinks. Social media wars amongst the players. All Star Games. The Winter Classics. Frank discussions of hair and beard care. Rookie rituals. The Cap group chat. The different dynamics in the team of being a big family.
BY THE WAY, DID YOU KNOW THE CAPS WON THE CUP in 2018? (Still not over it, still can hardly believe it happened.) By which I mean, anything hijink-ish about things happening with various players on their days with the Cup is awesome. Drunken Cup celebrations would be awesome. Waking up or accidental marriage in Vegas would be awesome. Curses getting broken on the way to winning the Cup would be awesome.
The specific pairings and kinks:
Nicklas Backstrom\/Alexander Ovechkin<\/b>
My OTP, and the ROYAL COUPLE OF THE NHL, I WILL HEAR NO ARGUMENTS FOR ANY OTHER, YOUR OTHER JUGGERNAUTS ARE ALL FANCIFUL ILLUSIONS AND CANNOT COMPETE WITH THEM. Er. As I was saying.
As for specific stuff to write about? I am a stone cold sucker<\/i> for the whole team parents thing, with Ovi and his Russian ducklings, and Nicky and his Swedish crew, and the Brobeans, and the outcome of happily blended families. The transformation over time of them being the babies of the team together into getting older and becoming the team parents and leaders. I love reading about how different they are and how that makes them work so well together. I love them working together because one (or several) of the other players has done something stupid or silly, and now they must help resolve it. I love them mentring other players, and also snooping\/interfering with good intentions.
I love Woke Up Married fic, and One Of Them Realizes 'We Are Essentially Married' fic, and hey, I'm even up for soulbond fic.
I really love fic about their ongoing prank wars on each other, and basically how they were drafted for each other and grew up together in this weirdly public engagement\/courtship\/marriage in the NHL. (I hate to disappoint, but I'm actually not into royalty AUs or AU historical arranged marriages as much. I love it when treated with the modern day real life and NHL lens, though. This is mainly because I still want the hockey involved.) Both of them are very proud of their nationalities and cultural backgrounds, and I'd love to see them interact or exchange or teach each other about it, (Like, I dunno, the Swedish love for coffee vs. the Russian love for tea, or drinking games, or whatever) and appreciate that in each other. I love how Nicky has gotten his Murder Swede reputation; I love the whole Murder Swede THING, and also his weird cryptid similarities. I love how Ovi is smarter and better spoken than people have given him credit for in the past, and is also the same dude who gets sloppy drunk and dances to Ra-Ra-Rasputin and My Neck My Back without any shame.
In terms of specific kinks, I do have some bulletproof things that delight me. Ovi is such an exuberant person and with his wrecking ball style play and physicality, that for a long time, I think the majority of his fandom characterization made him out as Toppy McTopson and super dominant and kind of a caveman.
So, I really like fic (and sex) that deliberately turns that on its head and reverses it, because Ovi's always struck me as someone that's up for a lot of stuff, and will try just about anything as long as it's fun and feels good. And there's such a dearth of it out there-- basically, I love reading about and prefer Ovechkin as the nontraditional sub\/bottom, and it goes particularly well with Backstrom, the cool, quiet, observational guy who knows exactly how to direct him or take him apart. So Ovechkin who's such a leader on the ice deliberately giving up control or being the one taken care of-- because face it, he's always the first one to get the criticism and take a bullet for the team-- getting some TLC and being able to let him guard down is something I love. Not only in the bedroom reversal thing; I like fic that explores moments when Ovechkin is quiet and thoughtful and intelligent, and Backstrom gets to be devious and snarky and have some fun. No one ever suspects the Swedish Inquisition the quiet ones, and I kinda love how various Caps media members have pointed out that Backstrom's got this smart sarcasm that comes out a lot, and that he's not really shy, just private. So, those are some power or character dynamics I'd be into.
Also, clothes sharing, and sex half in or half out of clothes and\/or equipment has always been a thing I like for them, particularly if it's a specific kind of clothes that's doing it for one or both of the parties.
Brooks Orpik\/Alexander Ovechkin<\/b>
BATYA I WILL MISS YOU AS MUCH AS OVI PROBABLY MISSES YOUR SPECIAL PROTEIN SHAKES. I've grown to be really fond of that crazy-eyed bastard and his gluten free beers and protein shakes. Actually, that whole comment by Ovi about missing them still makes me laugh, bonus if you can work that in. I have a filthy mind.
I'm always interested in fic that's about the preconceptions, misconceptions, or general impressions that players have about each other before they actually end up being teammates, and how these are either correct, incorrect, turned on their head, or whatever. Brooks Orpik coming from the Penguins to Ovechkin's Capitals seems like it would have a lot of interesting baggage or thoughts the either of the players of might have on each other, particularly with their leadership roles.
For Brooks Orpik, it's more like the opposites attract thing since he's so, well, Brooks Orpik and Ovi is so Ovi. I'd love to see that sort of opposites clash: either of them trying to sway the other to their side in the battle over food, or cooking for each other as a sign of affection. Arguing over tattoos. Or Brooks and Ovi during the Olympics, bonding over waiting to give urine samples. Or their similarities! And fic about them celebrating the win, since Brooks has done it before, and it was Ovi's first, so anything about their Cup win together is cool by me. I'd also be okay with accidental marriage\/waking up married fic for this pairing because of the whole opposites thing.
In terms of kink, preferences on Ovechkin being on the bottom or as a sub run to either of the Orpik and the Richards pairings as well, same as in the Backstrom\/Ovechkin notes. Look, Ovi deserves more dick but in a good way for once. I also kinda like the idea of biting and hickies; do with that what you will.
Christian Djoos\/Andre Burakovsky<\/b>
Is there anything cuter than Baby Swedes? Only kittens, and you'd have a lot of them. I'm not over the fact Andre has been traded, and I probably still won't be when the season starts, alas. I will miss our special boy. But honestly, I love how Djoos seems like this quiet, mini-Backstrom, and Burky is.... very much not quiet and withdrawn. I like their opposites dynamic; it feels like it works very well for fluff and pining and humor and basically all kinds of situations. They've known each other a long time, so the whole friends becoming something else, or \"oh wait, we ARE dating, huh,\" realization also seems to work for them. Or them figureing out they're going to date, now being on opposite sides of the country and NHL conference.
In terms of ideas, (forgive me for linking so many of my own tumblr posts here; they just make it easier) I fucking love the fact Burky went through that \"Djooooooos<\/a>!\" thing, and there's also the whole North vs. South Swedes<\/a>. I love that apparently Ovi and Nicky have been monitoring Burky<\/a> and Djoos<\/a> for forever, and I'd love any mention of them also being kinda overly invested in it, or them being the ones either Burky or Djoos goes to to complain\/pine\/get 'how do I seduce him' tips regarding the other.
I love awkward flirtation, and boy do these dudes seem built for that. I love Burky's cheerfulness and his space-cadet brain, and his overwhelming desire for hugs and cuddles. I love Djoos's horrified face <\/a>whenever it looks like someone's paying attention to him or expecting him to speak, and his willingness to make dinner, and his obvious exasperated fondness for Burky. I love how they looked like they were making low budget pornos <\/a>with each other in rookie camp. (There's probably a universe out there where Burky and Djoos are low budget twink on twink porn stars, bless their hearts.) I love that they were paired up <\/a>together for playing with the kids in Hockey Fights Cancer, and their Halloween costumes this year.
Karl Alzner\/John Carlson<\/b>
I feel kind bad for ol' Karl, since Montreal didn't work out, but I'm a lot more sanguine about him now and would even be totally into reading fic about him and Carlson settling that out. Or the trials and tribulations of continuing to date when one player moves to another team and country.
Anyway, so, Carlzner. THEY HAVE A PORTMANTEAU, THEY HAVE WORN SHIRTS THAT DISPLAY THEIR PORTMANTEAU, IT ASTOUNDS ME THEY HAVE LIKE ZERO FIC. But seriously, they're great friends who came up from the Hershey Bears together; they were the Caps Roomies before Latta and Wilson came onto the scene, together on the road and on the ice, and they used to just hang out a lot. I mean, they did commercials together; they're total bros. I would love fic in the vein of friends becoming lovers, or a Friends With Benefits That Becomes More relationship, or just plain realizing they want to fuck\/date each other. Bonus if it includes their time as Bears, as Caps road roomies, or taking the piss out of each other with their Canada vs. America backgrounds. (Bets based on the Olympics? On Worlds?)
If you want some specific kinks, blowjobs and oral sex, because John Carlson's mouth, damn. Also, uh. Look. If you can write Karl Alzner jacking off into John Carlson's hair, or on his face, or BOTH, I will love you forever because I've wanted that in a fic for years now.
Other thoughts in general:
Either complete omission or glossing-over\/general mention of real life player family members or significant others is my preference. I lean towards omission, because I think it's easier for everyone, and removes the infidelity issue. (I, um, once received a fic in another RPF fandom where the main character's entire family was unceremoniously killed off in the first paragraph, so I feel like I need to say, please don't do that, you can just leave them out.)
I'm not an angsty person. That doesn't mean I only want fluff! But I definitely would prefer humor and happy endings to pining and soul-crushing angst. I have a slight preference towards real life situations as opposed to completely different (non-hockey) AUs, but if you have a great AU idea, go for it. If you could still keep hockey in as a factor, that would be great.
Explicit sex is fine; semi-explicit sex is fine; fade to black sex is fine; no sex at all is fine. Again, please go with your comfort level.<\/a>
Please feel free to cruise my tumblr<\/a> and livejournal tags for any other inspiration. I tag pretty religiously, so you can search any two of the player names together and probably get (largely horrified) insight how I feel about them together. I have anonymous comments on my lj and anonymous asks enabled on my tumblr, if you need to check in with me. I promise, I will probably be happy with whatever you write. Thanks again!","comments":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/250200.html?view=comments#comments","category":["john carlson","hockey","christian djoos","fic exchange","nicklas backstrom","brooks orpik","alexander ovechkin","karl alzner","andre burakovsky"]},{"guid":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/250095.html","pubDate":"Thu, 11 Apr 2019 06:34:03 GMT","title":"And I will wait, I will wait for you","author":"thorne_scratch","link":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/250095.html","description":"Spring (or more accurately, secondish spring, since we always get at least two false starts that trick all of us into thinking we can put away our heavier winter coats, and fuck with the cherry blossom peak predictions) is underway, and just as the birds return from migration and the flowers make their cautious entry into the world, so too turn I to a cycle as expected and regular: the return of having night after night of absolutely batshit dreams, due to taking Benadryl. I dunno what it is; maybe it's something in the pink dye. But whenever I take that stuff before I sleep because of allergies, I always end up having even vivider, weirder dreams than usual.
I've gone into lengths about my Olympic anxiety dreams before, but lately I've been having my third most common anxiety dream, which is that my friends or family are making me take part or go to some activity or location that is very obviously haunted<\/i>, and I know this, but I still end up having to go or participate anyway, because it would be rude not to. (Second most common anxiety dream for me is that I'm at school and can't open\/find my locker; that always seems to stymie me, and I never even get around to freaking out over not going to a class all year or whatever.) I blame this on the Silent Hill franchise.
(I lied; I am going to mention Louise. I dreamed once we were driving somewhere and had to go through one of those weird historical recreation places like Williamsburg or whatever. It was kinda haunted, which we knew--Silent Hill Williamsburg?-- but we figured it was easier to just deal with it than try to take a different route, which is actually pretty on brand for how we handled navigating anyhere. Getting through the town required, for some reason, carrying her cat, which all the zombie townspeople really wanted to take from us.
Once we fought our way through, and got back in the car, she was examining the cat and told me that it wasn't her cat, it was her cat's brother, we had left her cat back in the town, and we had to go back for the real cat. I asked how she knew that, because it sure looked like her cat, and she said her cat was gay. Which led me to say in the dream, very annoyed:
\"We do not have time to go back for your stupid homosexual cat.\"
Then we went to 7-11 and got slurpees.)
Anyway, the latest Benadryl-induced nightmare involved being made to clean out someone else's haunted basement. Ghost attack happened. It was such an active attack that in dream, it somehow smacked me clear out of the haunted-basement-cleaning-with-ghosts storyline and straight into another dream, where I was riding a giant eagle and had to deliver forty pounds of cake. The dream was very <\/i>specific about the amount.
The reason I'm writing this now is because it's two am and I've been trying to hold off the Benadryl for tonight, but I can't fall asleep, despite being tired. And I need to wake up early tomorrow, because I have an appointment with a very nice young lady who I will pay a substantial amount of money to pour hot wax on my crotch and rip all the hair off it. When I was filling out the pre-form for this place, there's a part that asks what my favorite jams are, so they could play it during the process to make me comfortable during the process. I was honestly perplexed at what would be considered a good pick. I like alternative and rock, but somehow I feel like it would just be weird to be staring at the ceiling and making us both listen to, say, the Smashing Pumpkins or the Offspring. I suppose I could lean into the weirdness and make us both listen to, like, Swan Lake or something. Since this isn't my first rodeo with the whole Brazilian thing-- just with this particular technician-- it seems unusual to me. I'm used to just making awkward small talk with the technician while it's going on, and occasionally suppressing pained noises.
The problem is, while I'm actually pretty damn good at making small talk at parties and medical conferences (I can basically do sports and cardiology for as long as necessary) I am terrible <\/i>at doing it with anyone who's performing some kind of physical beautifying service for me, mostly because I was crap at getting haircuts, manicures, waxing, etc. until I was older. Just never came natural, you know? So I have an unfortunate tendency to panic and make things up to seem normal and\/or agreeable to whatever they're saying.
Most of the time, it's not, uh, straight up lying, it's just making agreeing noises to whatever they're saying. But sometimes they seem to want me to talk, and I end up trying to come up with something embellished enough to get the conversation back to them, and in the process, I become a lying liar who lies. I have created so many fake significant others while on the table or in the chair, and storylines in lives I'm not living. Somewhere, in some alternate dimension or reality, there's an island or a big house where they all must live. I hope they're having a nice time.<\/a>
Anyway, I should just cut my losses and take a Benadryl.","comments":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/250095.html?view=comments#comments","category":["meatworld","dreams"]},{"guid":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/249777.html","pubDate":"Fri, 29 Jun 2018 19:23:53 GMT","title":"Dear Author letter for ALL CAPS Exchange 2018","author":"thorne_scratch","link":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/249777.html","description":"So, here's my Dear Author letter for ALL CAPS Exchange. You may notice a strange similarity to the ones I've written in past years. That is all in your head. There is at least one important difference.
First of all, thank you! I really appreciate that you're writing this, and I will look forward to it so much! I'm not sure how much info you're looking for, but here are my strongest likes\/dislikes, some pairing-specific thoughts, and some more general info.
I Don't Like:<\/b>
Super angsty stuff\/unhappy endings<\/i>. THE CAPS WON THE CUP SO I NO LONGER HAVE AN EXCUSE TO SAY \"AS A CAPS FAN MY LIFE HAS BEEN ALL SUFFERING AND PAIN,\" but in reality, while I'm fine with general angst and h\/c, my personal preference is for at least equal amounts of c to the h, and happy (or open\/hopeful) endings.
Cheating, infidelity, and partner\/teammate betrayal.<\/i> I'm not against people being dicks, but I really hate it when a player is, like, unnecessarily or over the top characterized as a dick or Evil Evil So Very Evil. (I'm sure some players are dicks in real life, because the world is full of dicks, but I'd rather err on the non-super-dickish side of things. Basically, just not fond of character bashing.)
Straight up non-con.<\/i> This relates to the partner\/teammate betrayal, because I can't see most of these guys doing it to each other. I'm not against non and dub-con in RPF fic in certain contexts, but I'd prefer not to see it in any of my selected pairings for this exchange.
Background other team pairings.<\/i> I'd like the focus to stay on the Caps. (I mean, that's the point of the exchange!) So, unless it's incredibly vital and relevant to the plot, I'm really not into (even in passing) mention of, say, background Toews\/Kane, or Benn\/Seguin, or anyone<\/i> from the Penguins, or whatever. Other Caps background pairings are fine. Basically, just keep it in-team, if that's okay?
Genderswitch.<\/i> Sorry, this one's a specific thing to hockey RPF. I just have really picky tastes, so it's easier to take it off the table.
Over the Top Woobification\/Whump\/Infantilization\/Space Toaster\/Stereotypical Top-Bottom.<\/i> This is a little more difficult to articulate because it's so subjective to some people. Here's the fanlore entry on Woobies<\/a>. I hate sounding like a grump but... look, most of these players, even the smaller ones, are still built like brick shithouses, and they whack at other people with sticks for a living, and are mostly competent at it. And yes, some of them aren't huge or physical. Some of the younger dudes are just that-- younger guys still growing, with the in-process physical and emotional maturity you might expect.
Basically, it's the over the top factor that I care most about. H\/C is fine; angst and struggles and journeys and overcoming shit is fine; fluff is fine; just don't dip too deep into \"Ohhh, Player X is such a smol, cute kitten, I'm gonna have him manhandled and smacked around by all the goons and he's gonna be so self conscious about how Player Y can never love him.\"
I Do Like:<\/b>
Lots of stuff, really. Everything else is on the table. OH HEY THE CAPS WON THE CUP. YOU CAN WRITE ME ANYTHING ABOUT THE CAPS WINNING THE CUP AND I'LL PROBABLY BE OVERJOYED. DID YOU KNOW THE CAPS WON THE CUP? BECAUSE THE CAPS WON THE CUP!
Had to get that out of my system, sorry, not sorry.
One of my bulletproof tropes is weird shit that forces people to deal with bizarre stuff in a rational way, like figuring out how players deal with transforming into a eagle, or body swap, or whatever. I especially like it when you see the different dynamics of people, like the ones who just roll with it, and the ones who freak out, and the ones who end up being surprisingly good at dealing with it, or what have you.
Other things I like include: Humor. Hockey hugs. Five Times fics. Magical realism. Odd Couple dynamics. Affection. Food. Wacky hijinks. Social media wars amongst the players. Prank wars. All Star Games. The Winter Classics. Frank discussions of hair and beard care. Rookie rituals. The Cap group chat thing is wonderful and I would love to read about that as a factor or thing in any of the requested pairings. The different dynamics in the team of being a big family.
BY THE WAY, DID YOU KNOW THE CAPS WON THE CUP? By which I mean, anything hijink-ish about things happening with various players on their days with the Cup is awesome. Drunken Cup celebrations would be awesome. Waking up or accidental marriage in Vegas would be awesome. Curses getting broken on the way to winning the Cup would be awesome.
The specific pairings and kinks:<\/b>
Nicklas Backstrom\/Alexander Ovechkin<\/i>
My OTP, and the ROYAL COUPLE OF THE NHL, I WILL HEAR NO ARGUMENTS FOR ANY OTHER, YOUR OTHER JUGGERNAUTS ARE ALL FANCIFUL ILLUSIONS AND CANNOT COMPETE WITH THEM. Er. As I was saying.
As for specific stuff to write about? I am a stone cold sucker for the whole team parents thing, with Ovi and his Russian ducklings, and Nicky and his Swedish crew, and the Brobeans, and the outcome of happily blended families.<\/i> The transformation over time of them being the babies of the team together into getting older and becoming the team parents and leaders. I love reading about how different they are and how that makes them work so well together. I love them working together because one (or several) of the other players has done something stupid or sillly, and now they must help resolve it.
I love Woke Up Married<\/i> fic, and One Of Them Realizes 'We Are Essentially Married'<\/i> fic, and hey, I'm even up for soulbond fic. INCIDENTALLY THE CAPS WON THE CUP AND THEY WON THE CUP IN VEGAS AND THERE'S MAYBE KIND OF A LOT OF OPPORTUNITIES FOR THEM TO ACCIDENTALLY GET MARRIED IN VEGAS.
I really love fic about their ongoing prank wars on each other, and basically how they were drafted for each other and grew up together in this weirdly public engagement\/courtship\/marriage in the NHL. (I hate to disappoint, but I'm actually not into royalty AUs or AU historical arranged marriages as much. I love it when treated with the modern day real life and NHL lens, though. This is mainly because I still want the hockey involved.) Both of them are very proud of their nationalities and cultural backgrounds, and I'd love to see them interact or exchange or teach each other about it, (Like, I dunno, the Swedish love for coffee vs. the Russian love for tea, or drinking games, or whatever) and appreciate that in each other.
In terms of specific kinks, I do have some bulletproof things that delight me. Ovi is such an exuberant person and with his wrecking ball style play and physicality, that for a long time, I think the majority of his fandom characterization made him out as Toppy McTopson and super dominant and kind of a caveman.
So, I really like fic (and sex) that deliberately turns that on its head and reverses it, because Ovi's always struck me as someone that's up for a lot of stuff, and will try just about anything as long as it's fun and feels good. And there's such a dearth of it out there-- basically, I love reading about and prefer Ovechkin as the nontraditional sub\/bottom, and it goes particularly well with Backstrom, the cool, quiet, observational guy who knows exactly how to direct him or take him apart. So Ovechkin who's such a leader on the ice deliberately giving up control or being the one taken care of-- because face it, he's always the first one to get the criticism and take a bullet for the team-- getting some TLC and being able to let him guard down is something I love. Not only in the bedroom reversal thing; I like fic that explores moments when Ovechkin is quiet and thoughtful and intelligent, and Backstrom gets to be devious and snarky and have some fun. No one ever suspects the Swedish Inquisition<\/s> the quiet ones, and I kinda love how various Caps media members have pointed out that Backstrom's got this smart sarcasm that comes out a lot, and that he's not really shy. So, those are some power or character dynamics I'd be into.
Also, clothes sharing, and sex half in or half out of clothes and\/or equipment has always been a thing I like for them, particularly if it's a specific kind of clothes that's doing it for one or both of the parties.
Brooks Orpik\/Alexander Ovechkin<\/i>
BATYA YOUR FATE IS CURRENTLY UP IN THE AIR AND YOU MIGHT BE BACK OR YOU MIGHT NOT AND EITHER WAY I AM VERY EMOTIONAL ABOUT IT. I'll be frank, I hated the idea of the Orpik signing when he came on board, but I've grown to be really fond of that crazy-eyed bastard and his gluten free beers. So, depending on how the offseason plays out, fic about Brooks and Ovi and whether he comes back or not, and what happens there would probably be relevant to my interests. Of course, that could have some built in angst, so... we'll see how it goes, no?
I'm always interested in fic that's about the preconceptions, misconceptions, or general impressions that players have about each other before they actually end up being teammates, and how these are either correct, incorrect, turned on their head, or whatever. Brooks Orpik coming from the Penguins to Ovechkin's Capitals seems like it would have a lot of interesting baggage or thoughts the either of the players of might have on each other, particularly with their leadership roles.
For Brooks Orpik, it's more like the opposites attract thing since he's so, well, Brooks Orpik and Ovi is so Ovi. I'd love to see that sort of opposites clash: either of them trying to sway the other to their side in the battle over food, or cooking for each other as a sign of affection. Arguing over tattoos. Or Brooks and Ovi during the Olympics, bonding over waiting to give urine samples. Or their similarities! Like both doing kegstands out of the Cup. BY THE WAY, THE CAPS WON THE CUP AND DID KEGSTANDS OUT OF IT. IT WAS AWESOME. DID I MENTION ANYTHING ABOUT THE CAPS WINNING THE CUP? And fic about them celebrating the win, since Brooks has done it before, and it was Ovi's first, so anything about their Cup win together is cool by me. I'd also be okay with accidental marriage\/waking up married fic for this pairing because of the whole opposites thing.
In terms of kink, preferences on Ovechkin being on the bottom or as a sub run to either of the Orpik and the Richards pairings as well, same as in the Backstrom\/Ovechkin notes. Look, Ovi deserves more dick but in a good way for once. I also kinda like the idea of biting and hickies; do with that what you will.
Mike Richards\/Alexander Ovechkin<\/i>
You know, despite the narrative some people liked to push about the hate-rivalry between Crosby and Ovechkin, for a long time, Ovechkin and Richards actually did seem like they legitimately<\/i> hated each other. Fun fact: Ovi's first ever fight was with, you guessed it, Mike Richards<\/a>. Whenever the Caps played the Flyers, they went out of their way to hit each other, and this actually continued with Richards on the Kings for the first couple years. There was also the eyefucking<\/a> in the Caps-Flyers Verizon commercial.
So, I mean, I would love anything about the transition from enemies\/opponents to friends\/teammates\/lovers. Hatefucking is totally on the table. But it doesn't have to focus on either end of that transition; you wanna just start with them being teammates\/friends, that's also fine. They really have a lot in common. Both captained teams constantly cast as villains\/rivals against St. Sidney of the Maritimes and his flightless chodes! They both love dogs! They both have a black lab that they dote over! They both have experience with being shat on by the media and thrown under the bus! They both love to hit! They have varying degrees of enthusiasm for fishing! (I mean, I still think Backstrom is Ovechkin's soulmate, and Alex Semin probably has the runner up spot, but Mike Richards has a credible argument for at least getting in the conversation, in a weird way.) Unexpected or accidental soulbonding\/soul mates for this pairing is something I'd be entertained by.
I have a weird soft spot for Mike Richards, and I know there's a lot of room for angst in writing about him, but I genuinely want things to turn out okay and happy for him in the end. I think Ovi could help.
Karl Alzner\/John Carlson <\/i>
Karl almost didn't make the cut last year because of his comments when he went to Montreal, but I'm a lot more sanguine about him now and would even be totally into reading fic about him and Carlson settling that out. Or the trials and tribulations of continuing to date when one player moves to another team and country.
Anyway, so, Carlzner. THEY HAVE A PORTMANTEAU, THEY HAVE WORN SHIRTS THAT DISPLAY THEIR PORTMANTEAU, IT ASTOUNDS ME THEY HAVE LIKE ZERO FIC. But seriously, they're great friends who came up from the Hershey Bears together; they were the Caps Roomies before Latta and Wilson came onto the scene, together on the road and on the ice, and they used to just hang out a lot. I mean, they did commercials together; they're total bros. I would love fic in the vein of friends becoming lovers, or a Friends With Benefits That Becomes More relationship, or just plain realizing they want to fuck\/date each other. Bonus if it includes their time as Bears, as Caps road roomies, or taking the piss out of each other with their Canada vs. America backgrounds. (Bets based on the Olympics? On Worlds?)
If you want some specific kinks, blowjobs and oral sex, because John Carlson's mouth, damn. Also, uh. Look. If you can write Karl Alzner jacking off into John Carlson's hair, or on his face, or BOTH, I will love you forever because I've wanted that in a fic for years<\/i> now.
Other thoughts in general:<\/b>
Either complete omission or glossing-over\/general mention of real life player family members or significant others is my preference. I'd say I lean towards omission, because I think it's easier for everyone, and removes the infidelity issue. (I, um, once received a fic in another RPF fandom where the main character's entire family was unceremoniously killed off in the first paragraph, so I feel like I need to say, please don't do that, you can just leave them out.)
I'm not an angsty person. That doesn't mean I only want fluff! But I definitely would prefer humor and happy endings to pining and soul-crushing angst. Like, H\/C is fine as long as there's equal amounts of C, you know? I have a preference towards real life situations as opposed to completely different (non-hockey) AUs, but if you have a great AU idea, go for it. If you could still keep hockey in as a factor, that would be great.
Explicit sex is fine; semi-explicit sex is fine; fade to black sex is fine; no sex at all is fine. Again, please go with your comfort level. (But, if you want to be explicit, hey, I so won't stop you.)
ALSO THE CAPS WON THE CUPPPPPPPPPPPP YAY YAY YAY YAY YAY YAY!!<\/a>
Please feel free to cruise my tumblr<\/a> and livejournal tags for any other insight. I have anonymous comments on my lj and anonymous asks enabled on my tumblr, if you need to check in with me. I promise, I will probably be happy with whatever you write. Thanks again!","comments":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/249777.html?view=comments#comments","category":["john carlson","hockey","rpf","fic exchange","nicklas backstrom","brooks orpik","alexander ovechkin","mike richards","karl alzner","writing"]},{"guid":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/249558.html","pubDate":"Mon, 28 May 2018 18:56:38 GMT","title":"Whatever happened to all this season's losers of the year?","author":"thorne_scratch","link":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/249558.html","description":"I turned a milestone birthday, and it was extremely lowkey, which I suppose is good. I honestly kinda thought my family would make a little more of it (given past examples) and I'm not sure if I'm disappointed or not that they didn't. They did try, kinda. After a certain age I think you're pretty much in charge of your own birthday pleasures and celebrations and you shouldn't expect other people to make a big deal. So, I shall just plan a bunch of things for myself privately, and go about them quietly in June.
I did find a place nearby that does indoor skydiving, so I think I'll give that a shot, having already done the regular skydiving thing back in my twenties. I don't have anyone to go with me, which is a bit of a downer, since that would have been something Louise would have been on board for-- everyone needs to have a Let's Do Stupid Shit On A Whim Friend.
At any rate, I got a brief massage, played with the niece and nephew, had a softshell crab sandwich, and went swimming on my birthday, which was all nice. The next day, I picked sixteen pounds of the first strawberries and took an afternoon nap, and the day after that<\/i>, I went to the Brandywine River Museum to see the last week of the George Weymouth exhibit, which was amazing. I've seen some of his landscapes before and always liked them, but I never knew how many portraits he'd done as well.
I love the Brandywine museum because I love so much of the Wyeths' work, and the more you read about them, the more weirdly intertwined and incestuous they come off. All the artistic families and neighbors seemed to marry into each other, plus there's the added drama factors of the whole Wyeth brand and the Helga modelling storyline. There's probably a couple really good thinly disguised novels to be gotten out of it.
The drive to the Brandywine is a little over two hours, and everything was so explosively green on the way there. It feels like summer has really gotten a foothold in, and spring has basically exited without fanfare. If you stand still for more than a minute, some sort of vine will grow over your foot. All the rivers are swollen with the past two weeks of rain, and driving home, I had to go through Ellicot City with my phone blaring flash flood warnings at me every ten minutes. It was the worst rain I've ever driven through; I could barely see anything. Thankfully, there was one of those rare moments where everyone on the road decided not to be a jackass, and we all basically slowed to forty miles an hour and didn't fuck around.
The Brandywine is close to Kennett Square, which is apparently the mushroom capital of the world. Louise would have gotten a major kick out of that. I just like the food.
No major chicken updates, though it's only a month from now that I get the baby ducks. I meant to upload the Mealworm Madness fight between the baby chickens, but found that of the videos I took, half are in portrait and half are in landscape, so merging them all is not the easy task I assumed it would be. I'll have to sit down and fix them some upcoming night when I have nothing better to do.
Baby shower keeps baby showering. I think if you basically put the work in the hands of your friends, you're not allowed to interfere as much after that, but what do I know. Throw your own damn shower if it matters to you that much, and screw the etiquette rules. Like, seriously, if you want to have quality control over everything, do it yourself. My greatest fear now is that she'll ask me to be godmother, which I do not want in the least. I also still haven't figured out how to either tell my mother I can't go to the wedding, or tell my friend I can't go to the shower.
My current plan is to fake my own death. I probably should not have recorded that here.<\/a>
I know none of this is very interesting, but I've fallen out of the habit of journaling and I'm trying to get back into it, and to get better at it. It's hard to journal with the purpose of both entertaining other people (and yourself), and accurately accounting for things that happened. The latter usually ends up suffering in favor of the former.
Oh, and my neighbor left a passive-aggressive note on my door last week, telling me my clogged rainspout was washing away all her mulch. There was a frowny face on it. Lady, you've lived here longer than I have; therefore you know I have no power over when the gutters get cleaned. If you think your sad note can guilt me into buying you some mulch, you're in a for a disappointing time. I have stomped over and ignored more blatant social cues than that.","comments":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/249558.html?view=comments#comments","category":["meatworld","louise","chicks"]},{"guid":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/249165.html","pubDate":"Mon, 21 May 2018 17:45:07 GMT","title":"Happiness hit her like a bullet in the back","author":"thorne_scratch","link":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/249165.html","description":"At this rate, all I am ever going to do is briefly update on whatever three things I talked about last entry.
I drove down to have dinner with Louise's folks yesterday. Per my own mother's prediction, Louise's mother was delighted I had actually spoken to and taken pictures with the recipient of her award, and wants me to email them to her. I probably should not bet against my mom; she just has way better instincts than I do for these sort of things.
Louise's ex-boyfriend was at the dinner too (the dude who created the Platypus Bell, for what it's worth), and we spent time talking in that weird way you do with people where you basically have one connection. It was always Louise before; now that Louise is not doing anything new we can update each other on, we settle for talking about her dog, which he took in after she died. Sometimes we reminisce with each other, but that's always a bit stranger with Mike-- we both find that with her parents we can spin things more easily and rosily, but with each other, I think we're still both furious she left us, and we're cognizant of that in each other. It makes us uneasy. Plus, we actually did spend a not insignificant amount of time together in college and after, when he and Louise were together and then when they were just friends, so we have the occasional Rashomon experience where we remember the same thing different ways.
Helping plan the baby shower continues to irk me, but I continue to also not do a very good job, so we'll call that even. I do have the added complication that my mother apparently RSVP'd on my behalf that I was coming to some distant relative's wedding on the same date, which complicates things. Two obligations I am not particularly enthusiastic about each other, fighting! I wonder which will win.
To round this out with chickens, I meant to upload some chicken videos from back in April. Here was Alex and Nick escaping their box. I still need to upload Mealworm Madness.
Randomly, I FINALLY re-discovered a short story I'd lost track of long ago, and it was by complete accident-- I bought an ebook of the author's short stories, based on a random sale email, that was in turn pushed by a mailing list that I've been on ever since I entered my email to potentially win a giveaway, and I've been too lazy to unsubscribe. It was the first story in the ebook. HUZZAH. (The short story was \"Where Angels Come In\" by Adam Nevill, and it was one of those great experiences where you get to reread something you read long ago and it's still good-- and also, in this case, creepy as shit.)
One of my longest running friends is moving to Spain at the end of this month, due to her husband's military deployment. She was one of my few remaining friends for whom I'd rouse myself to do social shit with, so now I am vaguely anxious that I am going to become a hermit for the next couple years. As with most of the issues that cause me anxiety, I am repressing everything related to it, and pretending it is not happening. That's where I'm a Viking.
When I come home at night these days, the lovesick tree frogs are deafening in their passion. Hearing them makes me smile.","comments":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/249165.html?view=comments#comments","category":["meatworld","louise","chickens"]},{"guid":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/249016.html","pubDate":"Fri, 11 May 2018 19:04:26 GMT","title":"Whip, whip, run me like a race horse, pull me like a ripcord","author":"thorne_scratch","link":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/249016.html","description":"In updates on all three things from the last post!
It was a beautiful drive down. There's something about this very specific period of spring, where the wisteria and the redbud and the Kwanzan cherry trees have all burst simultaneously, and delicacy has gone out the window and everything is almost obnoxiously and ostentatiously alive and blooming and way turned up on the color saturation spectrum. The Yoshino cherries are the ones you see around the Tidal Basin, all white and pale pink and delicate, but the Kwanzan cherries are the brighter pink ones, much fuller and ruffly. I love the sense of careless richness you get from the wisteria and the Kwanzan cherry, great opulent swags of purple and explosions of pink along the highway walls and roads. There's another tree with purple blossoms-- I always think of it as jacaranda, because \"tree with purple flowers\" automatically equals jacaranda in my head, but it's not, it's actually Paulownia. And the lilacs are going, and so are the azaleas. And the trees are all enthusiastically jizzing over everything in sight, so there's a fine sticky layer of yellow pollen on every surface.
The awards ceremony went fine, except they pronounced her name as Louis instead of Louise, and I could swear, I felt her roll her eyes from the afterlife. They always used to do that in the cafeteria pick-up area, so I made a very undignified snort and got a mean look from the lady sitting in front of me. Though it might also have been because I'd accidentally kneed her in the back of the head at least twice. Look, lady, this whole thing is taking place in a gym and we're sitting on bleachers. Some knee on head contact is inevitable.
My mother, meaning well, kept pushing me to go say hello to the person who'd received the scholarship and take a picture with her, which I very much did not want to do because it seemed awkward and weird and fraught with emotional outburst potential. (Seriously, I've never forgotten the time I burst into tears in front of my local liquor store proprietors over as conversation about port that reminded me of her. Though I supposed people who work with the supply and distribution of alcohol probably run into their fair share of emotional outbursts.) But then I comforted myself with the fact that not only could I attribute this to someone else, I would probably never have to see this girl again in my life. And so I sighed internally, went over and introduced myself, said I was Louise's friend and roommate from college and attending on behalf of her parents, who had asked me to take a picture of the recipient of her scholarship award, and would she pose for a picture.
She did! It was very nice of her. And we made awkward small talk for about twenty seconds and it confirmed for me the fact that my mother was (sigh) right: sometimes you should remind people of where these things are coming from. I got my own share of scholarships and awards growing up, and at least one of them was named after someone, and you really don't think about who's behind them and what prompted their creation.
On the way back from the award ceremony, we drove past my old college dive bar, which has a livestock feed store about ten feet away from it, and then I did a U-turn because I saw a sign saying there were still some chicks remaining. I went in, and very nearly left with chickens; the only reason I didn't is that the store lady was trying to offload some beekeeping equipment on sale to my mother and focused her sales pitch on that, while I made distracted \"Uh huh,\" noises in the background and stared at the various half-grown chicks running around in their enclosures. By the time she realized she was pitching to the wrong party, my common sense had slowly formed a protective armor around the vulnerable spot in my underbelly that recently discovered it wants to raise chickens, and I got out without buying either livestock or beekeeper equipment.
On the way back, we made a detour, and ended up discovering this tiny little beach town in the Chesapeake region that I plan to go back to soon, when it's not quite as dead. It looked like it could be either a fun day trip, or possibly hiding some kind of ominous farm vs. ocean cult under a thin veneer of beach town respectability and funnel cake stands. Either way, I'm intrigued.
Also, I did in the end agree to help with the baby shower. (Mostly I just said I'd do games\/activities, and left everything to everyone else. This does not stop me from being texted and emailed at all hours, asked to give opinions on the design of the invitations and so forth, and because she is obsessed with Pingus and is using them as her overarching theme, it takes everything in me not to say my true opinion. I am getting a good workout in noncommittal grunting noises.) I should have just said no, but I took a page from the Simpsons-- just do a half-assed job.<\/a>
I have done something mysterious to my left foot which makes it hurt Like, A Lot right around the arch area. I have no idea what this was or when it could have happened, since I got out the bed and my foot was fine, and then I got up to go to the bathroom and OW FUCK WHAT OW. Getting older sucks. Parts of your body that used to work fine just simultaneously peace out, and you must medicate them with Google and\/or alcohol. Very poorly designed. I would like to complain to some evolutionary force somewhere about this.
Also I need to decide which icons I truly like, since I'm indifferent to the idea of paying livejournal anything anymore, when I use it this infrequently.","comments":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/249016.html?view=comments#comments","category":["meatworld","louise","chicks"]},{"guid":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/248625.html","pubDate":"Thu, 26 Apr 2018 20:44:35 GMT","title":"You look more than pretty underneath all the stars","author":"thorne_scratch","link":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/248625.html","description":"D'you know what livejournal feels like these days? A ghost mall. Specifically, the ghost mall that I grew up near<\/a>. Forget abandoned insane asylums or prisons and all that shit, the new creepy location of choice for future horror movies (beyond zombies!) should totally be ghost malls.
Tomorrow is the annual awards ceremony at my college where they give out the scholarships and academic prizes; I've mentioned it before. This year, Louise;s mother has to attend a wedding, so she asked if I could go and get a program, and presumably make sure they actually give the award out. I agreed, of course, because there's no way you can turn down an ask like that.
It's a nice drive back to my college, at any rate, so it shouldn't be too bad. I can stop on the way to leave flowers for her. My mother has decided to go with me, because I expect she thinks I am emotionally compromised, and also she cared for Louise as well, so we'll probably make a whole day of it. Part of me would rather be alone, but more of me realizes that's probably not a great idea, and I'll have a better time with company. It's a bit weird, because I can see this stretching forward in the future-- every year, going to the damn ceremony, then having dinner with Louise's parents afterwards at the same restaurant we always do. I don't really mind it. But it's getting a sense of ritual to it that I wonder if I'll feel the same way, five, ten, whatever years down the line.
Anyway. I'm being press-ganged into organizing a baby shower for another friend and I am super resentful about it, because it reminds me that I am both kind of a jerk-- (I don't even really like this friend, which is a depressing thing to say. We're holdovers from high school with very different lives, and every time I see her it feels like her life is going wonderfully and it's kind of painful. She's very nice but goddamn does she get on my nerves) --and also a pushover because I should just tell her no, I have no time to organize a brief event to celebrate the first time you're bringing life into the world. I have not managed to think of a way to say, \"Seriously, don't you have any other friends who could do this for you?\" that doesn't come off as seriously dickish.
I don't think she does have other friends willing to do it! Or they are better about getting out of it. When it comes down to it, I just have to weigh the two things against each other: my desire not to do it versus feeling like an asshole telling her I don't want to do it, and decide which will leave me with the least amount of stress.
I would probably not be this resentful about it except it feels like everyone I know and am related to is extremely fertile and\/or nubile right now, whereas I am... not. It feels like it's being rubbed in my face, even though I know it isn't. Meanwhile, here I stand, staring down a milestone birthday in less than a month, and feeling like my life is going nowhere and I have nothing to offer anyone. Intellectually, I know it's not true; I have shit to be proud of, and people who love me, and that I love. This might just be the remnant of seasonal disorder, though; I am going through wildly penduluming spates of \"I don't feel anything\" to \"YEERGH I FEEL WAY, WAY TOO MUCH\" and it throws me off.
So! I did do something that I'm kinda proud of, though, in that I knocked another item off my bucket list. I've always wanted to hold a baby chick or duck. AND NOW I HAVE DONE SO. I realize this sounds ridiculous, but whatever. There's a local farm in the area that rents pairs of baby chicks (and ducks!) in April and June, where you get to keep them for a week when they're at their peak adorable fluffiness and then bring them back so they can grow up into, you know, actual chickens and ducks.
It's a helluva racket when you think about it; they charge thirty bucks for the whole thing, and I imagine their overhead doesn't cost more than-- like, ten dollars, tops, and probably more like five. (They provide you with a large cardboard box, a week of feed, a week of pine shavings for bedding, food\/water containers, and the two chicks. You have to provide your own desk lamp to keep them warm.) And then they get the chickens back! And the place is also a winery, so you factor in the number of frazzled parents drinking on both the pick up and drop off dates, and I imagine they're making some decent bank on the whole thing.
So, I did the rental program ostensibly as an indulgent auntie excuse for my nephew and niece, but let's be real, it was for me. I got to cuddle and care for two little fluffballs for a week, which was fun, but also not my smartest move because I STARTED TO LOVE THEM AND GOT ALL ATTACHED. I am a fool. I took so many pictures<\/i> though. You can see some of them in a tumblr post here<\/a>.
The story has a bit of a brutal ending though; I had entertained fond notions of somehow... not<\/i> bringing them back, or paying off the dude on the downlow to let me keep them, and had done all this research on backyard chickens, before reluctantly concluding my HOA would probably string me up. And as it turned out, they were meat poultry birds (hence why they grow so fast, even inside a week) and destined for the market place a little over two months from now.
...GUYS, I WAS DEVASTATED.
But I gave them a pretty good week, and bought them a shit ton of mealworms, so... hopefully we both enriched each other's lives in our short but beautiful time together.![\"\"](\"https:\/\/ic.pics.livejournal.com\/thorne_scratch\/1007690\/4180\/4180_900.jpg\" "\\"\\"")
<\/a>
So! Life keeps going on.","comments":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/248625.html?view=comments#comments","category":["meatworld","louise","chicks"]},{"guid":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/248367.html","pubDate":"Sun, 01 Apr 2018 04:13:45 GMT","title":"everyone wants a ride, and pulls away from you","author":"thorne_scratch","link":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/248367.html","description":"I had a dream the other night!
It was one of those weird ones. In my dream, I somehow managed to kill myself by texting while driving; the car crashed and flipped over and I was sort of out of body to observe. The bystanders and I looked into the crash and I knew I was dead because my body was in there, pinned in the wreckage. My mom came and was very upset and sad, and I felt upset in turn for dying in such a dumbass way and making my mother upset. But I just sort of kept going on, except now I was dead and going to be able to travel into THE REALM OF DEATH (or whatever's there, dream was initially quite sketchy on that) but I had to do boring little jobs while I was doing it\u2014something about carrying letters, or info, or something into the afterlife I was going to. It involved being on this train, too. I think they were messages from people who were still alive to people who had already died, and I was vaguely annoyed about having to do it, even though it meant I'd presumably be coming back to the world of the living.
There is probably an anime with this plot already.
At some point, I realized I was actually in Hell. But it really wasn't so bad? It was mostly just annoying. Like having to go to stupid family parties or such events. I remember thinking, well, it's just like life. We just keep on having to do stuff<\/i>. (Admittedly, that actually makes for a pretty on the nose Hell, when you think about it. It felt deep at the time, though.) I was traveling through, bringing my list of things I was supposed to from the living world, and trying to take notes for the info I was supposed to be gathering to bring back out.
And then, of course, I had some kind of realization in-dream that Hell wasn't so much a place as a period in my life that I had gone to. And then I realized it was a different point of time in everyone's<\/i> life! Not really a bad one, just kind of an ordinary, grinding one. And then I was in Louise's section, which I think was the time she was in grad school in New York; I distinctly recognized her apartment. She came into the room while wearing a bathrobe, looking as young as she had been back in grad school.
And I said hello<\/i>, and hey, did you know we're both dead and, like, stuck in this kind of ordinary life thingy?<\/i> (In the dream, I thought it would be rude of me to draw attention to the fact we were both in Hell.) And she said, yeah<\/i>, and I was like, Okay. Nice bathrobe. <\/i> Then I think she wandered away, and I woke up.
In most of my dreams of Louise, she's alive and I forget that she's not dead. The first couple times I dreamed of her after she died, I didn't remember she was dead until I woke up. Though, the very first dream I ever had of her post-death, was where I was on a spaceship, and she emerged from one of the escape pods to inform me she had been hiding there the entire time and was not dead. (In the dream, I yelled at her for doing this.) When I woke up, I was extremely<\/i> confused for a few minutes.
I've had more dreams since then, and they're almost always ordinary events where she just shows up, and I only remember later in the dream that she's dead. A couple dreams ago, we were in the bathroom at my church, primping at the mirror and getting ready for some fancyish event, and I asked if she could loan me her lipstick and she asked if she could have the bottle of hard cider I was drinking. Looking in the mirror, I remembered, wait, she was dead and I told her this. She didn't take much notice of it. Then I tried to fly through the bathroom door and woke myself up.
I've had more dreams since then, and in each one, I tend to remember she's dead earlier and earlier in the dream. If nothing else, it might eventually lead to getting a handle on lucid dreaming. Though this is the first one where we've both been dead! I feel like it should be more meaningful somehow. Or there is too much meaning and it is going right over my head.
Anyway, I made the drive down to go leave her some flowers for Easter, and probably I'll try to do something in her honor that she would have also liked to do, like drink a whole bottle of Asti.<\/a>
I have a bunch of bunny cupcakes to make, because my mother saw them in a magazine, thought they'd be cute, and promptly outsourced it to me. I don't really mind, but I should have used it as leverage to go to a later in the morning Mass so I could get more sleep. Happy Easter to those who celebrate.","comments":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/248367.html?view=comments#comments","category":["dreams","louise"]},{"guid":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/248126.html","pubDate":"Sat, 10 Mar 2018 05:45:32 GMT","title":"You can dance, you can jive, having the time of your life","author":"thorne_scratch","link":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/248126.html","description":"Here is a list of fairly normal things I will always get inordinately angry about no matter what:
-The Dyson Vacuum Cleaner guy
-The Mervis Diamonds guys
-How dragon fruit is always disappointing
-Things with nipples that shouldn't have nipples
-Hockey
Last week, I went to the dinner with my friend from high school and her husband, we discussed my friend's new Dyson vacuum cleaner, her wedding ring from Mervis, and Sidney Crosby. (Also her pregnancy.) It was like a magical trifecta of shit designed to get me to explode, and I'm still not sure how I didn't burn down the restaurant. She very clearly wants me to like and socialize with her husband, which is proving tricky because dude has no personality I have yet managed to discern. I feel like if I cut him, he would bleed skim milk. However, we both like red wine and the Hershey Bears, and I have made things work with less than that, I guess.
I am getting an Ann to visit in less than a week! Hooray!
...oh God, my house is so terribly disorganized and messy right now, it looks like a crazy person lives here. TIME TO PANIC.","comments":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/248126.html?view=comments#comments","category":"meatworld"},{"guid":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/247827.html","pubDate":"Mon, 19 Feb 2018 09:30:40 GMT","title":"when you gonna love you as much as I do","author":"thorne_scratch","link":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/247827.html","description":"It's three in the morning and I am in a weird existential state right now, brought on by the stress of being the only unmarried and childless person at a large family dinner event, and exacerbated by watching The Hours<\/i> and drinking a cheap Hurricane-flavored frozen wine cooler while I wait for my laundry load to finish so I can chuck it in the dryer before I go to bed.
I love my family! I love my niece and nephew; I love my brothers; I love my parents. But I get real tired of being the one expected to help out with everything because there's no one else to help my parents, and because having a kid and a partner means all you have to do is show up, partake, and then roll on out again. It isn't fair, but I still feel like a heel for feeling resentful about it, even if there's some justification. I love them all, I do. I love my friends, the ones who've gotten married and had kids.
But Jesus Christ, I'm so tired of being the one who never seems to get to have my moment in the sun. I feel like all I've done for the past five or more years is facilitate other people's happiness and celebrations, while waiting for my own moment and not getting it, or having hope of getting it. I've thrown and attended so many showers and weddings and dinners and shit. I've listened to so many complaints. I just feel... used up.
I don't actually worry that I'm going to end up alone in life; I think I've sort of come to expect it could happen, and maybe it's even more likely to happen than anything else. I'm not a terrible person. I'm actually kind of an okay one. Sometimes I'm funny, and interesting, and kind. I used to be more secure about the way I look; now I find I don't like looking at myself in mirrors or pictures, but even so, I'm not... like, hideous, or anything. Probably there are people who do or could find me attractive. There are people who like me.
But I'm still sitting here in bed, trying to figure out why I just feel like crying. And, uh, the goddamn movie (well, the book had it first, but it was the movie that made me remember it) sorta hit the nail on the goddamn head for me because it's got this one quote that basically encapsulates it all.
\u201cI remember one morning getting up at dawn. There was such a sense of possibility. You know, that feeling. And I... I remember thinking to myself: So this is the beginning of happiness, this is where it starts. And of course there will always be more... never occurred to me it wasn't the beginning. It was happiness. It was the moment, right then.\u201d
It had seemed like the beginning of happiness, and Clarissa is still sometimes shocked, more than thirty years later to realize that it was happiness; that the entire experience lay in a kiss and a walk. The anticipation of dinner and a book. The dinner is by now forgotten; Lessing has been long overshadowed by other writers. What lives undimmed in Clarissa's mind more than three decades later is a kiss at dusk on a patch of dead grass, and a walk around a pond as mosquitoes droned in the darkening air. There is still that singular perfection, and it's perfect in part because it seemed, at the time, so clearly to promise more. Now she knows: That was the moment, right then. There has been no other.<\/i>
So, yeah. Is this it? Sometimes, I'm afraid to ask myself: is it supposed<\/i> to be this hard to be happy? Sometimes I'm genuinely unsure. Am<\/i> I happy? It's supposed to last longer than, like, random moments, isn't it? Fuck. Is this really it? It's not that I don't know what it feels like, but lately I worry more and more about how much I notice myself trying not think about it. That's undoubtedly not a productive solution.
I should take this all to a therapist, but I suspect I would have a hard time being honest with them. It feels embarrassing to even type this all down.
Intellectually, I know I have pretty legit and obvious reasons for being angry and depressed. My best friend died! My dog died! Several other relatives I was close to died! This all happened in, like, an eighteen month span! My parents have health issues! My previous workplace was emotionally abusive on levels that took me a super long time to figure out weren't normal! I have deep-seated issues with sex that I've been refusing to cope with for almost twenty years! I put too much of my emotional well being on things I can't control! But the idea of having to voice them out loud is just not something I look forward to. Like, fuck, I don't want to have to tell a therapist that even something stupid like a fucking hockey game makes my mood plummet. I feel embarrassed that I care as much about that as I do<\/i>.
Ugh. Working on your emotional health sucks balls. Anyway, I'm not discounting my emotions being super jacked up right now due to hormones, so in the morning I shall reread this without the additional muddying factors of alcohol and prolonged exposure to Virginia Woolf\/Michael Cunningham, and hopefully feel less unhappy. <\/a>
My laundry is ready to be chucked. Huzzah. I shall feel productive, and go to bed.","comments":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/247827.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/247665.html","pubDate":"Mon, 01 Jan 2018 04:07:13 GMT","title":"I am going to make it through this year if it kills me","author":"thorne_scratch","link":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/247665.html","description":"2017 was a terrible year for many of us, so let us celebrate its death! I won't tempt fate by saying 2018 has to be better, but we'll just have to hope for the best, prepare for the worst, and shoot down the middle.
Otherwise, adapt accordingly and just, like, drink a lot.
Happy Year Year, everybody. See you on the flip side.","comments":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/247665.html?view=comments#comments"},{"guid":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/247528.html","pubDate":"Sun, 02 Jul 2017 03:06:25 GMT","title":"Dear Author letter for ALL CAPS Exchange 2017","author":"thorne_scratch","link":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/247528.html","description":"So, here's my Dear Author letter for ALL CAPS Exchange. I, um, heavily cribbed from the one I did last year.
First of all, thank you! I really appreciate that you're writing this, and I will look forward to it so much! I'm not sure how much info you're looking for, but here are my strongest likes\/dislikes, some pairing-specific thoughts, and some more general info.
I Don't Like:<\/b>
Super angsty stuff<\/i>. I'm a Caps fan, okay? Basically, that means my existence is already<\/i> pain, so I try to avoid wallowing in it for fic.
Cheating and partner\/teammate betrayal.<\/i> I'm not against people being dicks, but I really hate it when a player is, like, unnecessarily or over the top characterized as a dick or Evil Evil So Very Evil. (I'm sure some players are dicks in real life, because the world is full of dicks, but I'd rather err on the non-super-dickish side of things. Basically, just not fond of character bashing.)
Straight up non-con.<\/i> This relates to the partner\/teammate betrayal, because I can't see most of these guys doing it to each other. I'm not against non and dub-con in RPF fic in certain contexts, but I'd prefer not to see it in any of my selected pairings for this exchange.
Background other team pairings.<\/i> I'd like the focus to stay on the Caps. (I mean, that's the point of the exchange!) So, unless it's incredibly vital and relevant to the plot, I'm really not into (even in passing) mention of, say, background Toews\/Kane, or Benn\/Seguin, or anyone<\/i> from the Penguins, or whatever. Other Caps background pairings are fine. Basically, just keep it in-team, if that's okay?
Always-a-girl genderswap.<\/i> Sorry, this one's a specific thing-- always-a-girl just doesn't work very well for me in hockey RPF unless it's in very specific circumstances. I like it in other fandoms, not so much here.
Over the Top Woobification\/Whump\/Infantilization\/Space Toaster.<\/i> This is a little more difficult to articulate because it's so subjective to some people. Here's the fanlore entry on Woobies<\/a>. I hate sounding like a grump but... look, most of these players, even the smaller ones, are still built like brick shithouses, and they whack at other people with sticks for a living, and are mostly competent at it. And yes, some of them aren't huge or physical. Some of the younger dudes are just that-- younger guys still growing, with the in-process physical and emotional maturity you might expect.
Basically, it's the over the top factor that I care most about. H\/C is fine; angst and struggles and journeys and overcoming shit is fine; fluff is fine; just don't dip too deep into \"Ohhh, Player X is such a smol, cute kitten, I'm gonna have him manhandled and smacked around by all the goons and he's gonna be so self conscious about how Player Y can never love him.\"
I Do Like:<\/b>
Lots of stuff, really. Everything else is on the table.
One of my bulletproof tropes is weird shit that forces people to deal with bizarre stuff in a rational way, like figuring out how players deal with transforming into a eagle, or body swap, or whatever. I especially like it when you see the different dynamics of people, like the ones who just roll with it, and the ones who freak out, and the ones who end up being surprisingly good at dealing with it, or what have you.
Other things I like include: Humor. Hockey hugs. Five Times fics. Magical realism. Odd Couple dynamics. Affection. Food. Wacky hijinks. Social media wars amongst the players. Prank wars. All Star Games. The Winter Classics. Frank discussions of hair and beard care. Rookie rituals.
The Cap group chat thing is wonderful and I would love to read about that as a factor or thing in any of the requested pairings. The different dynamics in the team of being a big family. Facing down and spitting in the face of all the dumbass narratives that people like to throw at the Caps.
Look, I just want the Caps to be happy<\/i>. Happiness + the Caps is my ultimate OTP and kink and life goal. Being a fan for the team that had a player who all too often got cast as the villain\/antagonist in early fandom, and gets the short end of the stick in comparison to Good Canadian Boys is kinda rough.
The specific pairings and kinks:<\/b>
Nicklas Backstrom\/Alexander Ovechkin<\/i>
My OTP, and the pairing that I am FOREVER BITTER is not a juggernaut in hockey RPF because they DAMN WELL DESERVE TO BE SINCE THEY ACTUALLY HAVE CRAZY AMOUNTS OF REAL LIFE CHEMISTRY\/INTERACTION\/PARTNERSHIP. (I am... not very subtle about this. If you follow my tumblr, you're probably aware of how I've been passive-aggressively trying to force fandom to love them as much as I do.)
As for specific stuff to write about? I am a stone cold sucker for the whole team parents thing, with Ovi and his Russian ducklings, and Nicky and his Swedish crew, and the Brobeans, and the outcome of happily blended families.<\/i> The transformation over time of them being the babies of the team together into getting older and becoming the team parents and leaders. I love reading about how different they are and how that makes them work so well together. I love Woke Up Married<\/i> fic, and One Of Them Realizes 'We Are Essentially Married'<\/i> fic, and hey, I'm even up for soulbond fic.
I really love fic about their time together in the KHL on Dynamo, since they basically were the Married Couple of the NHL and<\/i> the KHL. Their ongoing prank wars on each other. Pre-game rituals and superstitions, since they're both pretty close-mouthed about what they do. Both of them are very proud of their nationalities and cultural backgrounds, and I'd love to see them exchange or teach each other about it, (Like, I dunno, the Swedish love for coffee vs. the Russian love for tea, or drinking games, or whatever) and appreciate that in each other.
In terms of specific kinks, I do have some bulletproof things that delight me. Ovi is such an exuberant person and with his wrecking ball style play and physicality, that for a long time, I think the majority of his fandom characterization made him out as Toppy McTopson and super dominant and kind of a caveman.
So, I really like fic (and sex) that deliberately turns that on its head and reverses it, because Ovi's always struck me as someone that's up for a lot of stuff, and will try just about anything as long as it's fun and feels good. And there's such a dearth of it out there-- basically, I love reading about and prefer Ovechkin as the nontraditional sub\/bottom, and it goes particularly well with Backstrom, the cool, quiet, observational guy who knows exactly how to direct him or take him apart. So Ovechkin who's such a leader on the ice deliberately giving up control or being the one taken care of-- because face it, he's always the first one to get the criticism and take a bullet for the team-- getting some TLC and being able to let him guard down is something I love. Not only in the bedroom reversal thing; I like fic that explores moments when Ovechkin is quiet and thoughtful and intelligent, and Backstrom gets to be devious and goofy and have some fun. No one ever suspects the Swedish Inquisition<\/s> the quiet ones.
Also, clothes sharing, and sex half in or half out of clothes and\/or equipment has always been a thing I like for them, particularly if it's a specific kind of clothes that's doing it for one or both of the parties.
Mike Richards\/Alexander Ovechkin<\/i>
You know, despite the narrative some people liked to push about the hate-rivalry between Crosby and Ovechkin, for a long time, Ovechkin and Richards actually did seem like they legitimately<\/i> hated each other. Fun fact: Ovi's first ever fight was with, you guessed it, Mike Richards<\/a>. Whenever the Caps played the Flyers, they went out of their way to hit each other, and this actually continued with Richards on the Kings for the first couple years. There was also the eyefucking<\/a> in the Caps-Flyers Verizon commercial.
So, I mean, I would love anything about the transition from enemies\/opponents to friends\/teammates\/lovers. Hatefucking is totally on the table. But it doesn't have to focus on either end of that transition; you wanna just start with them being teammates\/friends, that's also fine. They really have a lot in common. Both captained teams constantly cast as villains\/rivals against St. Sidney of the Maritimes and his flightless chodes! They both love dogs! They both have a black lab that they dote over! They both have experience with being shat on by the media and thrown under the bus! They both love to hit! They have varying degrees of enthusiasm for fishing! (I mean, I still think Backstrom is Ovechkin's soulmate, and Alex Semin probably has the runner up spot, but Mike Richards has a credible argument for at least getting in the conversation, in a weird way.)
I have a weird soft spot for Mike Richards, and I know there's a lot of room for angst in writing about him, but I genuinely want things to turn out okay and happy for him in the end. I think Ovi could help.
Justin Williams\/Alexander Ovechkin<\/i>
I'm always interested in fic that's about the preconceptions, misconceptions, or general impressions that players have about each other before they actually end up being teammates, and how these are either correct, incorrect, turned on their head, or whatever. Justin Williams coming from the Kings to Ovechkin's Capitals seems like it would have a lot of interesting baggage or thoughts the either of the players of might have on each other, particularly with their leadership roles. For Justin and Ovi, they both also seem like goofy dudes who like to tease and are natural flirts, so stuff about them taking each other's measures and maybe teasing turns to flirting turns to an ongoing thing? Giving each other shit over the disallowed goals? Dancing? Ovi calling JWills \"Mr. Perfect\", which still cracks me up all the time?
I am always on board with stuff about their hair, too. They have legendary hair. I mean, Ovi's is kind of legendarily terrible, but it's still legendary.
In terms of kink, preferences on Ovechkin being on the bottom or as a sub run to either of the Williams and the Richards pairings as well, same as in the Backstrom\/Ovechkin notes. Look, Ovi deserves more dick but in a good way for once. I also kinda like the idea of biting and hickies; do with that what you will.
Karl Alzner\/John Carlson <\/i>
Real Life Karl Alzner, you almost didn't get selected because you had to go and be a dick and give those backhanded comments as you signed with the Habs, but whatever, I'm sure I'll get over that so you still made the cut. I GUESS.
Anyway, so, Carlzner. THEY HAVE A PORTMANTEAU, THEY HAVE WORN SHIRTS THAT DISPLAY THEIR PORTMANTEAU, IT ASTOUNDS ME THEY HAVE LIKE ZERO FIC. But seriously, just a season or two ago, Carlznerson was the defense pairing that never got broken up. They're great friends who came up from the Hershey Bears together; they were the Caps Roomies before Latta and Wilson came onto the scene, together on the road and on the ice, and they used to just hang out a lot. I mean, they did commercials together; they're total bros. I would love fic in the vein of friends becoming lovers, or a Friends With Benefits That Becomes More relationship, or just plain realizing they want to fuck\/date each other. Bonus if it includes their time as Bears, as Caps road roomies, or taking the piss out of each other with their Canada vs. America backgrounds. (Bets based on the Olympics? On Worlds?)
If you want some specific kinks, blowjobs and oral sex, because John Carlson's mouth, damn. Also, uh. Look. If you can write Karl Alzner jacking off into John Carlson's hair, or on his face, or BOTH, I will love you forever because I've wanted that in a fic for years<\/i> now.
Other thoughts in general:<\/b>
Either complete omission or glossing-over\/general mention of real life player family members or significant others is fine, whichever you're more comfortable with. If I had to pick a preference, I'd say I lean towards omission, because I think it's easier for everyone. (I, um, once received a fic in another RPF fandom where the main character's entire family was unceremoniously killed off in the first paragraph, so I feel like I need to say, please don't do that, you can just leave them out.)
I'm not an angsty person. That doesn't mean I only want fluff! But I definitely would prefer humor and happy endings to pining and soul-crushing angst. Like, H\/C is fine as long as there's equal amounts of C, you know? I have a preference towards real life situations as opposed to completely different (non-hockey) AUs, but if you have a great AU idea, go for it. If you could still keep hockey in as a factor, that would be great.
Explicit sex is fine; semi-explicit sex is fine; fade to black sex is fine; no sex at all is fine. Again, please go with your comfort level. (But, if you want to be explicit, hey, I so won't stop you.)<\/a>
Please feel free to cruise my tumblr<\/a> and livejournal tags for any other insight. I have anonymous comments on my lj and anonymous asks enabled on my tumblr, if you need to check in with me. I promise, I will probably be happy with whatever you write. Thanks again!","comments":"https:\/\/thorne-scratch.livejournal.com\/247528.html?view=comments#comments","category":["john carlson","rpf","fic exchange","nicklas backstrom","alexander ovechkin","mike richards","karl alzner","writing","justin williams"]}]}}