Edits

content/draft/002.md

@@ -14,7 +14,7 @@ Tonight, she let him take her home. Tonight she let him pin her to the bed, paw
 
 And then it was a night for sitting on his balcony and talking while the waves of whatever drug he'd given her continued to roll through her in languid pulses. "It is like someone is brushing the underside of my skin with satin in the best possible way," she said, and he laughed.
 
-They sat and talked, legs dangling through the bars of the balcony's railing over an impossibly high drop, her ears filled with the chatter of an impossible myriad of monkeys some balconies over, startled from slumber by their arrival, her eyes filled with the black and gold of an impossible city built into a cylinder. He pointed to a building in the distance down the length of the cylinder, told her how that one was filled all with gardens, all flowers like those in her hair, now crushed lopsidedly from her forgetting to remove the crown when they would fucked. He pointed up to the gentle glow in the sky, golden stars made of lights from so many buildings just like this one, told her that the sun here was in a long, thin line, that it turned on from one end to the other so that one could see dawn coming from down the tube, could hear birdsong come on like a wave, and then turned off in the same direction in a linear sunset. He pointed from one end of the cylinder to another, the bounding walls marked by arcane symbols in neon, and explained that nearly a quarter billion people called this home, then laughed as she asked, "How many do you think are fucking right now?"
+They sat and talked, legs dangling through the bars of the balcony's railing over an impossibly high drop, her ears filled with the chatter of an impossible myriad of monkeys some balconies over, startled from slumber by their arrival, her eyes filled with the black and gold of an impossible city built into a cylinder. He pointed to a building in the distance down the length of the cylinder, told her how that one was filled all with gardens, all flowers like those in her hair, now crushed lopsidedly from her forgetting to remove the crown when they fucked. He pointed up to the gentle glow in the sky, golden stars made of lights from so many buildings just like this one, told her that the sun here was in a long, thin line, that it turned on from one end to the other so that one could see dawn coming from down the tube, could hear birdsong come on like a wave, and then turned off in the same direction in a linear sunset. He pointed from one end of the cylinder to another, the bounding walls marked by arcane symbols in neon, and explained that nearly a quarter billion people called this home, then laughed as she asked, "How many do you think are fucking right now?"
 
 They added one more to that number before they slept.
 
@@ -110,7 +110,7 @@ Pushing herself to hands and knees and crawling around the piles of script, she
 
 "Me," she said, shrugging. "Or, well, she also hates me, but the biggest bit was that I call A Finger Pointing 'Ma', and that she is with Beholden."
 
-After nearly a minute of silence, Sasha said, "Years back, centuries ago, Jonas started a project of making intraclade relationships taboo. It was a measured process intended to keep *something* taboo while the rest of the System settled into a comfortable non-normativity — or even queer-normativity — on most other relationship and identity fronts." Another pause, and then, "Well, and because he was setting me up with May in the form of Zacharias to gain leverage."
+After nearly a minute of silence, Sasha said, "Years back, centuries ago, Jonas started a project of making intraclade relationships taboo. It was a measured process intended to keep *something* taboo while the rest of the System settled into a comfortable non-normativity — or even queer-normativity — on most other relationship and identity fronts. It was a bit of discomfort to strive against." Another pause, and then, "Well, and because he was setting me up with May in the form of Zacharias to gain leverage."
 
 "Gross."
 
@@ -132,7 +132,7 @@ She scoffed. "Probably the second."
 
 Sasha laughed and turned the ruffling into a noogie. "This is not a competition, Motes," she chided. "But if it were, then yes, you would win. She has cut off even A Finger Pointing."
 
-Squeaking and giggling, pulling herself away from the knuckles grinding against her scalp, the skunk sat up. "I thought they were on better terms, though. Ma met with her once a month, even."
+Squeaking and laughing, the skunk sat up, pulling herself away from the knuckles grinding against her scalp. "I thought they were on better terms, though. Ma met with her once a month, even."
 
 "When she found out that I had joined Au Lieu Du Rêve, Hammered silver cut all contact with the fifth, yes?"
 
@@ -150,7 +150,7 @@ The smaller skunk giggled helplessly, slouching down until she was able to use S
 
 "So Hammered Silver is upset that Ma has principles," Motes said flatly. "Okay. Got it. Good good, good good good good. Wonderful."
 
-She laughed. "Yes, apparently. A Finger Pointing had some tense meetings with her early on when it became clear — at least within the clade — that she and Beholden were in a relationship, but that tenseness became the norm when you started to poke your little snout–" She tapped at Motes's nose-tip, getting a giggle. "–out into the world, which led to a tacit agreement that they were essentially just meeting up to collect data on their respective stanzas, and then only when A Finger Pointing agreed not to talk about you."
+She laughed. "Yes, apparently. A Finger Pointing had some tense meetings with her early on when it became clear — at least within the clade — that she and Beholden were in a relationship, but that tenseness became the norm when you started to poke your little snout–" She tapped at Motes's nose-tip, getting a smile and a chirp. "–out into the world, which led to a tacit agreement that they were essentially just meeting up to collect data on their respective stanzas, and then only when A Finger Pointing agreed not to talk about you."
 
 Motes fell silent for a long minute, then two, and eventually rolled onto the other side so that she could bury her face against Sasha's side. "Well, that makes me feel like garbage," she mumbled.
 

content/draft/004.md

@@ -86,13 +86,13 @@ And then she finally was able to relax.
 
 None of them spoke, once she was settled. Both A Finger Pointing and Beholden quickly drifted back to sleep, and although there were the occasional flashes of skunk/human face, exhausted and sneering, behind her closed eyelids, Motes soon followed.
 
-It wasn't until morning came, when Beholden had slipped away for a few minutes and returned with three mugs of coffee on a tray, when all three of them sat up in bed, leaning against the headrest, tray set before them, that she told them of the dream.
+It was not until morning came, when Beholden had slipped away for a few minutes and returned with three mugs of coffee on a tray, when all three of them sat up in bed, leaning against the headrest, tray set before them, that she told them of the dream.
 
 "I do not remember it all that well, now," she said holding the oversized mug carefully in comparatively small paws. "But Michelle was there, and she was really upset with me. She kept saying that I was gross and a fetishist and stuff, and that she could not believe that she had this in her, and then she made me kill myself."
 
 "Jesus, Dot," Beholden said, frowning over the rim of her mug. She reached her free arm around the skunk's shoulders and tugged her close against her side in a hug. "I am sorry to hear that. That sounds awful."
 
-"It really does, my dear." A Finger Pointing leaned over to kiss at the tips of her ears. "And I think that it is demonstrably untrue that she did not not have this in her. You exist, Motes. You are absolutely my up-tree, and I know where you got it from." She smiled. "And I am absolutely her up-tree, am I not?"
+"It really does, my dear." A Finger Pointing leaned over to kiss at the tips of her ears. "And I think that it is demonstrably untrue that she did not have this in her. You exist, Motes. You are absolutely my up-tree, and I know where you got it from." She smiled. "And I am absolutely her up-tree, am I not?"
 
 Doing her best to hold still despite the ticklishness of the kisses, Motes nodded. "I know. It was just a dream. Dreams are not real."
 
@@ -128,7 +128,7 @@ The fifth stanza had begun its life in an apartment building. As many studios an
 
 Now, the fifth stanza — along with however many other lovers and friends, coworkers and groupies, up-trees and tracking instances —  occupied a sprawling neighborhood of houses and townhomes, yards and copses of trees, and yes, even a playground. The whole neighborhood crowded against an untamed field, a prairie, a meadow laced up with deer trails and footpaths, dotted with yet more copses of trees lining a creek.
 
-For each of those who lived there, the neighborhood was theirs in some specific way, and for Motes, it was hers to color.
+For each of those who lived there, the neighborhood was theirs in some specific way, and for Motes, it was hers to paint.
 
 Motes had painted it all hundreds of times, of course.
 
@@ -136,7 +136,7 @@ She had painted the prairie, painted the neighborhood, painted those who lived t
 
 Thus, when, still sleepy, she trudged out of the ranch-style home she shared with A Finger Pointing and Beholden, colored lines of flowering vines trailed after her bare paws. She guided those vines with her steps or, relishing in a secret pleasure, pretended like they were propelling her forward, pretending that she was a being of growth — that she was a seed, a being of potential — that she was a giant at the head of some toppled beanstalk.
 
-The vines or her feet carried her down through the neighborhood at a contemplative pace, giving her time to think of the conversation she wanted to have before she actually had it. She spoke so often without thinking, letting that be a part of her nature rather than some simple flaw, that to approach something so deliberately as this set her mood from the beginning, and by the time she drifted up one set of steps to a duplex near the far end of the neighborhood, many of her doubts had been set atop well-lit pedestals, and placards beneath each labeled their names, their creators, their provenance.
+The vines or her feet carried her down through the neighborhood at a contemplative pace, giving her time to think of the conversation she wanted to have before she actually had it. She spoke so often without thinking, letting that be a part of her nature rather than some simple flaw, that to approach something so deliberately as this set her mood from the beginning, and by the time she drifted up the set of steps to a duplex near the far end of the neighborhood, many of her doubts had been set atop well-lit pedestals, and placards beneath each labeled their names, their creators, their provenance.
 
 No one answered the door when she knocked, so she hesitantly pressed the doorbell. This, she knew — for it was the same throughout the neighborhood — was created to send a sensorium ping to the inhabitant.
 
@@ -248,7 +248,7 @@ Motes shrugged. "I guess."
 
 Slow Hours nodded, letting her paws go. "I will not say "fuck 'em", much as either of us might want. You must not hyperfixate on them, but neither must you disregard them."
 
-"Why? Do you have a prophecy for me?" Motes asked, grinning faintly. "The last time you gave me a prophecy, it was about whether I should stay friends with Alexei."
+"Why? Do you have a prophecy for me?" Motes asked, smiling faintly. "The last time you gave me a prophecy, it was about whether I should stay friends with Alexei."
 
 She laughed. "I remember that, yes. You were bound to run into someone who was also into kidcore stuff as Big Motes, and we were stifling you." The mirth faded to something more thoughtful. "But, yes, I have a prediction for you: the clade is not done with you, And We Are The Motes In The Stage-Lights. Even those who have cut you off have not forgotten you, and it is best that you not forget them."
 

content/draft/005.md

@@ -83,7 +83,8 @@ The other, still-bloodied instance quit and Beholden smiled, carefully guiding t
 *Hug,* Motes's body signed. *Hug. Alone. Dark.*
 
 *And the toys?* this other her thought. *Tell her to get rid of the toys!*
-But no, Beholden only hugged her, kissed her on top of the head, and tucked her in before turning out the light, telling her along each step of the way that she loved her
+
+But no, Beholden only hugged her, kissed her on top of the head, and tucked her in before turning out the light, telling her along each step of the way that she loved her.
 
 *I am an adult…*