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captainkurosolaire · 3 years

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I challenge you to pick five Tumblrs in your social circle and tell them something you admire about their blog!

Only 5? I could probably do 500. However, that's determined by what's considered my social circle. I'm often in my head being incredibly social continuously is really a challenge of mine. I'm always actively marching to something, my flame of passion when I have it, I can do some crazy stuff but it diminishes relatively quickly, so I try to cling. But I'll up your thing and list 25 of my fave people. Ask me this same thing in a Month, I'll keep doing 25, until I do all the people. How about that? (If anyone wants to be taken off mention let me know.)

@eligos-venator

- Has one of the most intelligent and sophisticated minds, I've had the pleasure to know. Literally admire all his aesthetics, work, head-cannons, ideas. It's only a benefit that the dude shares some OC characteristics to my own (Winning features). I really enjoyed the short-thread we did. It was incomplete, mainly because of my faults. I want to actually be better to give him a proper delivery and RP worth his time, but he's incredibly worth the investment of eyes.

@mischiefandmystics

- If there was a Mount Rushmoore of writers who kept me in this endeavor, encouraged me. Sun'ra is one of them. His characterization skills, writing, the delivery and how believable his character is, they're masterful acts.

@mishivymendi

- I wouldn't be nearly tamed or as creatively freed if it wasn't for this gem. She broke my shell, I really didn't at a time ever see myself being anything really beyond a smut writer, but Mishi not only saw potential in me, but brought it out. Her stories and world's she brings to life are so majestically colorful.

@asymphonyofash

- My go-to. He's another pillar individual who saw things in me past just the obvious perception, (Probably second longest XIV RPer I know.) Taught me a lot of the lore, I shot him up and he's sort of become my stapled rock. He's right aside Sun'ra met them about the same, both took me under their wing's as I quietly observed and absorbed.

@lavender-hemlock

- We're always up and front with each other, never feeling like I couldn't say anything around, extremely rare to share that these days. Her gif's are legendary, something on my own terms I want to soar in quality. The writing she does is astounding. Character has so many mysterious pages that are quite addictive to want to explore and learn them. (Encore 20 below-cut)

@under-the-blood-moonlight - Her sweetness and artwork and overall is just a friendly presence to be around. I cherish them so much. One I can jive with more darker undertones with. She's one the most hardworking and ambitiously creative people. I'd mail them infinite hugs if could. Thanks for being you! @roxinova - I owe a lot of credit to her. She's constantly OOC and everything was nudging me too be more inclusive to things and involved heavenly. It's rare for me. I'm really horrible about that my autism sets me back socially, I constantly will be drowned by the next day and be reverted back to better off alone, that's my major crux and weakness. But her thoughtfulness, these things, aren't ever foreign to me, I do pay attention probably better than any would ever give me credit. She's a beacon model to have as a friend. @corpse-dancer - Haven't ran into many words with them, but her character, screenshot game, expressiveness, they're all a marvel to constantly see, alongside her attitude and bringing life character. I do think if I were better, we would click quite splendidly. They've recently reminded and motivated me to pick-up my daily-practice, or try too. Keep being a rockstar. @fair-fae - Few who wouldn't know who she is in this community. She's been in my opinion a huge core. I'm certain she's inspired many who weren't even RPers too try it by seeing her at the Quicksands or elsewhere, a tyme ago. Making no exception, I was even one of those. I used to be in QS every-single day and was often doing my shameless stuff. Though her presence first did show me there's a lot more. I admire her in all fields. Also appreciate her adopting me to the FC and her always thinking of others and giving events, or her aesthetics and portrayal, its the epitome of swan elegance. @thorcat - One of my most treasured friends. Been RPing with them for a longtime. There's never anything complicated between us or a rift of drama, it's just let's go and have fun. We really mesh well, I've welcomed nearly ever character and got the privilege to RP with nearly all them. They always open up envelope and help me, settle on back and just laugh. Whether used to be waking up to their characters humping my afk one or use randomly having a hardcore banter between Ufah and Captain and capturing them as a voidal pet. Memories with them isn't something I'd ever want to lose. I love ya! Never stop enjoying life for anything. @lukawarrioroflight - I get in the gutter find myself lacking motivation or writing, discouraged even... But I never have felt, I could ever do any wrong with this person, they bring the light out of me. So no matter what, how many hospital-beds I yearly visit, it's because of this rare nature, that I come back, even if they're the only one's ever to read my stuff. I would do it for them alone. @scholarlybreadbun - I've only been back recently and they've so much warmth. Their presence is the sun of inviting. The couple and posing all the shipping that stuff makes me even melt. I'm not particularly talented in regards to posing couples, but I took notice of them along time ago and set on quietly improving. Really like them for them, wouldn't ever want them to change that. Ideally look forward to be in their orbit longer so I can bask in them. @seascrapes - Been mutual with them for a while. Their aesthetics and character is all S+ level. I appreciate throwing back tagged prompts with them, one of many people I really think would be enjoyable to collab with any other seafarers. The artwork and pieces of Tal Brook, are breathtaking as ever exceptionally too, not to mention. Love your stuff matey, you're a king. @mai-takeda - Is a myth. Her absolutely sheer friendliness and her attitude, are so positive influencing, I was so thrilled to be welcomed with her and boosted by them early on. I couldn't see myself, wanting to exist where they didn't have happiness like the same she always delivers by just doing so many soft-things. Not to mention her writing... She's a whole world to throw yourself gazes

under. @zhauric - It doesn't go far either without the same breath of Mai, I could say about Zhauric. He's someone worthy to look-up and also recognize they're passionate and inviting, hoisting up literally everything. Could easily find any of their characters comrades with my own, or jiving alongside. Not to mention last XIVWrite, they slaughtered it. So enjoyable to read them all. I like how organized their blog is too, motivated me recently to redux my entire thing. @cadrenebula - They have so many diverse characters and their entire roster is vibrant and is imbued with a massive flux of life. They are able to encapsulate so many character's voices and portray them so effectively too, I really admire that greatly. They've made me think bigger and try myself recently at actually undertaking a huge roster of characters too. I've taken many breaks, but I always am so graciously returned often with them close-by and that's so incredibly sacred. I've seen a lot of people get discouraged or quit, leave, departure, etc. But they always seem to have a bigger house then they had last I took a break and I enjoy peaking in. @silvernsteel - Her artist and gif-work are awe-aspiring, there's little unrecognizable by her photo-sets and edits. They helped me even tip-toe into uncharted with giving me the recipes to try incorporating gifs into my arsenal. Plus so delightfully pleasant to actually talk with and just chill. I want nothing less in life, than the beauty they give, to be returned to them for eternity in all their glorious air. If ever needed anything of me, they've got me. @spotofmummery - We talk about passion or friendliness or overall a person to even remotely try to be, I got to include them. Their web-series and writing, screen-work, everything they do is fantastic. And that's furthered back nearly any I've met showcase or immortalize how just genuine of stellar person they are. I wish them always the energy to create and sparks. @snow-covered-moon - They've never been anything less but absolutely a diamond to know. I enjoy their character, their almost always abundant of energy that's very rub inducing. Their WoL character stories, writing, screen-shots, everyday they open up a new pandora box of joy, there's no mistaken love behind their character and that's infectiously easy to also enjoy something when the author does too. Always healthy to be around, I never feel short of vitality when they're close-by. @letheofthelost - Always cheerful or least encapsulates with me, they're a carnival ride. Just pure epic story-telling and engaging equally as passionate, constantly writing characters, not looking for anything outside of RP or anything really just being their selves, they fade all others. I love their presence, them as a person. Enjoy any character they'll ever come and throw under me, or a change of pace. Always feels easily understandable between one another. @crow-iv - Together we're an unfiltered, unstoppable wake of pure passionate writers and art. But I would say they're far ahead of me, in every regard. Already able to portray multiple characters in a scene and do such in-depth thinking, alongside even sketch or draw right afterwards or a scene. They're so talented, huge reason I set-out on giving them a Crew of cast and actual stories to-tell when I'm actually caught up and if they interested and we both have the room, I really think if further myself, I can be better and supply more for them to draw and I want to see them soar. I want to give them all my improvements and effectiveness. @trishelle - They've such a reinforcing personality and aura around them that easily bolsters anything that dares thinking they're about to be depleted so energizing. Aesthetics, characters, all them are so lively that further compliment their own mun's great welcoming presence. Worth hundreds of smiles and stars, keep high. Wish I had more time to dedicate to learning you! But I do notice and appreciate you. @fracturedfantasia - One of my people, I like to retreat and just talk my full

head-cannons with or learn, share insightful and inquisitive thoughts about philosophies and multi-culture things. Or plotting and in-general, they're a well of information and brimming ideas, they are every making of what makes a quality friend. When you can generally be open-about-all that's a real one right there. Their characters and tarot readings, I always would implore if they're offering. Thanks for giving me any-time. You're truly a treasure. @violet-warder - Never have even came to words with them yet unfortunately but didn't mean as a mutual, I haven't admired all their screenies, writing, or the aesthetics they bring of their character. Glamours is real end-game, I like all what you've done and put together. I care strictly about what represent and give, I don't want to see them ever think anyone want's them gone, they are abundantly so talented and possess things only they can deliver. I think recently came back too, and I'm glad to share, hopefully, overtime I can build you better up. Or eventually even talk, but I'm certain you are a busy-body person too, so we're relatable. @layla-grey - I have a lot of underline issues that set me back as a flawed person, but I've never not been anything but someone who's open, it's why I always do include my f-list in anything or etc. I'm not here to present this facade, and really don't care to be an image crafted by another. No one as of recently or now, am I close with as an RP partner or friend with then this stunning masterpiece. I never let-up on story-telling or anything so I can eventually use my Crew or other Characters, to give them anytime a master entertaining day, they push me to not be short-changed. IC and OOC I would devote my full attention too cause they've never shed from me. Didn't ever matter how much silence or anything, they're always around. And don't expect anything out of me or pressure. Just accept me and I equally share that sentiment, I want you to have everything in this world has to offer. ----- This is just a fraction of people, I've paid attention, noticed or know. I've been around in this Community for many years. There's a lot of things I could say about it, more probably then anyone else. But what matters to me, is recognizing the people who are here, that work hard, build others up, support, constantly are a beam. I don't need to interact with everyone, to know when someone is generally out for good. Or they're out for bad I've learned inquisitiveness longtime ago, I had to survive and remain afloat. I just go out and be me, and along the way, I get to find people like these, who help bring out the best me. I am nothing without these people, creators, writers, artist. I'm a terrible friend, horrible person, I don't have the energy to interact NEARLY with as much as I'd like with you all, If I could clone myself, or if things were different, I would drop it all to be in your orbits more if could. But, do know I appreciate you. And even if you ever do depart from this whole community or anything, know that anything you share, or give, that stuff does matter, somewhere, someone was aspired, if nothing else, by me. ONLY you can give the worlds you see and I am thankful. Do love yourself.

#I acknowledge you #Love you #Keep doing you #Asks answered #I'm the one guy who's never not going to be filtered or unspoken #To many people have left or been broken #Don't you ever think about it.#There's so many many more #But I'll recharge for next time

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arshipweek · 3 years

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AR Ship Week - Fanwork Recs

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This is the fourth and last weekly post in the lead up to Alex Rider Ship Week. Only 1 week to go!

This week we’ve got a selection of shippy fanwork recs submitted by members of the AR fandom. Enjoy and hope to see you next week!

**Please note that I haven’t listed all the details for the fics so take care to read the tags on AO3 before diving in!

Yassen/Alex

Our Endless Numbered Days by Galimau Just your run of the mill heartwarming look at the quiet beats of Alex and Yassen's relationship...after the apocalypse. Soft and sweet this fic focuses on the very still and quiet moments of two men at the end times trying to hold onto the things that bring them joy. It's an intimate view of what Alex and Yassen's life could be like of all their cares were quite literally wiped away - excellent world building and writing make this a must read.

Yalex art by Ireliss Alex and Yassen in a lake! Everything about this picture is perfect - the light, the colours, the feeling of stillness... Probably the most beautiful picture of Alex and Yassen I've ever seen.

Sun Poisoning by fElBiTeR Angsty, beautiful, slowburn soulmate fic with a twist on the usual tropes and gorgeous imagery

Twisting, Turning, Tumbling by ShiruyTheSecond A glacially slow burn, road trip au, and sick fic all mashed into one fic, in non-chronological order based on 100 themes. I'd say this was one of the gateway fics into Yalex for me; there's nothing like reading a longfic you thought was gen and wishing it were slash, only for the realization to hit you in the face like a brick 50 something chapters later. Alex is on the run for a variety of reasons after a mission for MI6 goes spectacularly wrong, so he surprisingly finds himself leaning on Yassen for help, experincing whumpage along the way. Absolutely delicious.

Specific Performance by BurntWhisper Alex is a good spy, good enough that SCORPIA has tasked Yassen with killing him. Yassen can't do that but he can give Alex a very...enthusiastic going away present even Alex hasn't been a very good boy. It's a fun look at Alex and Yassen's first fling with callbacks to the original gen fic. That hits every perfect note and hits a few other things too.

Interlude by Suzie_Shooter Incredibly soft and fluffly Yalex that ends with an unexpected top!Alex and bath sex. Will absolutely warm your heart the way it does mine every time I read this fic.

Medicine by Suzie_Shooter The other fic in response to the prompt of "Alex is given a serum that makes him feel good when he tells the truth" except this one is praise kink while the other is humiliation kink! Specifically focused on a smoking hot blowjob and Alex's reluctance turned enthusiam, plus, there's a second chapter, just in case one dose of the antidote isn't enough.

One Year by BurntWhisper The slowest of slow burns featuring Alex and Yassen on the run from MI6, SCORPIA and their own feelings. Covering 3 months of their life on the run this fic features action as well as the slow, quiet moments where the budding relationship can truly shine through and behind it all the intelligence world continues to grind on threatening to take their happiness with it. It's a beautiful fic with strong, detailed writing and the emotional weight that it deserves.

Midnight Smoke by Hijja If you're in the mood for darker fics with plenty of Yassen hurting Alex complete with violence and heavy dubcon, Hijja has you covered. This particular fic features a mission-type premise with Alex being sent to investigate a spate of teen abductions only to be captured. Yassen is there, and he has his own goals...

Hello Alex by anonymous Fanart: a reunion hug between Yassen and Alex.

Face The Truth by capeofstorm Alex is given a serum that makes him feel good when he tells the truth. Yassen is absolutely a man to take advantage. Recced by Suzie_Shooter

Lights Out by Suzie_Shooter Yassen and Alex left tradecraft behind for a new life in the Greek islands. Ten years on, their relationship is still going strong and they've become island locals, the proprietors of a sailing club and a windsurfing business. Their idyllic life is disrupted by a new threat that wants them dead. I just love the premise of Yalex riding off into the sunset and not looking back. This fic not only has suspense, action, hot sex, and the intimacy borne of ten years...but once you're done, there are two excellent sequels and a prequel to lap up!

Villa in the Sun by BoldAsBrass A multi-chapter story within a story as Yassen and Alex keep in touch over the phone through a tale of a Russian bodyguard's encounters with a young English man. This is so cleverly done and beautifully written; I could re-read it and re-read it (in fact, that's exactly what I've done).

Sting in the Tail by Suzie_Shooter With the world hanging in the balance, MI6 presses an imprisoned Yassen into service. They use Alex to convince him, but also a nasty "sting in the tail" incentive to guarantee results. A thrilling Yalex mission!fic where Yassen and Alex forge their trust in each other by facing mortal danger and saving the world together. I was on the edge of my seat the whole time, eating up the slow burn and wondering how on earth they were going to succeed with all the obstacles Scorpia and MI6 threw in their way.

Rarely Pure And Never Simple by fElBiTeR Non-con > dub-con > fuck-yes-con speedrun. Recced by Suzie_Shooter

Just Say I Do by Nanimok I'm possibly biased because this was written for me, but 'woke up married' is a great trope and this is both snarky and adorable. Recced by Suzie_Shooter

Open Invitation by Suzie_Shooter After Ian's death in TV 'verse, fifteen-year-old Alex is living alone in a depressive, self-destructive spiral. He realizes someone is watching him at home...and decides to give them something more compelling to watch. I am squicked out by creepers, but the characterizations tackle the thorny elements head-on: Yassen's mixed feelings and understated pursuit tactics are 100% believable, as is Alex's volatility; he's alternately confused, provocative, and defiant. Exhibit A:“Does that make you a victim, or a slut?” The question came casually, but it had the unexpected sting of a slap. Alex blinked. “What, I can’t be both?” he countered after a second. Plot ensues, because how can a relationship possibly form from such a premise? Mind the tags (you might trip into your next kink because the sex is mind-blowingly hot).

Flirting with Danger by BoldAsBrass Basically THE gateway fic into Yalex for me - short and sweet, snappy narration and dialogue, a sleekly dangerous Yassen and Alex who might be a skilled, pragmatic adult but quickly realises he's in over his head. Sprinkle in a bit of dubcon and scorching hot writing and you get this perfect fic.

Burning a Dead Man's Fingertips by GreenQueenofClubs Multichapter slow burn, MI6!Yassen AU - an excellent premise done extremely well and feels fresh and new, balancing mission-style fic with character development! The dynamic between Yassen and Alex is somewhat different here compared to most Yalex fics as they don't meet until Alex is an adult; a really intriguing glimpse into what could have been...

A Little Pat Down by Nanimok Airport security can be frustrating at the best of times but couple it with being edged like none other by an assassin turned security guard and it can really be a pain in the ass. A filthy but extremely well written premise. Crack taken seriously is this author's strong suit so not a single one of their works will steer you wrong.

Yalex Ballet AU by anonymous Yalex ballet AU with absolutely gorgeous imagery and slow burn. Fluid prose and in the background, the shadows of past histories and things unsaid.

Gentleman's Agreement by Valaks Yassen and Alex have a "gentleman's agreement" for handling their business in the field. No one ever said anything about parent-teacher conferences. Claims to be gen, but deserves a place on this list for subtle genius alone, because with lines like "Like a fine wine, Alex Rider was improving with age" and "How interesting that Alex Rider would be that interested in his hands", what are we supposed to think....? UST in all caps is the best description.

Salty the Sweat on my Fingertips by Galimau A fun little romp of Alex visiting Tom and having to call his overly protective boyfriend? because he's pregnant and everything hurts. Beautifully written, this fic explores the ending of Oceanbreeze7's Moonfish and follows the extremely creative monster biology to its logical conclusion of Alex getting knocked up.

Slipping Through My Fingers by Nanimok This kink meme fill hits in all the right places as we watch through the eyes of a very jealous Julius as Yassen gives Alex all the attention he needs. The writing is, as always, on point and the characterization of Julius gets absolutely nailed (almost as much as Alex). Julius/Alex, Yassen/Alex

Other

Miss Julia by DantesThird Very creepy and traumatic noncon but really believable with Julia Rothman's obsession with John Rider. Alex/Julia Rothman

gone loose inside the shell by cyanides Fantastic messed-up fic where Julius keeps fantasising about killing Alex, but then the fantasies take a different turn. The possessive 'If I can't have you no-one can' dynamic really encapsulates the ship for me, and the fic stuck in my mind afterwards. Alex/Julius

smoke haze by Ireliss Dubcon, gun kink. A really intriguing and quite dark exploration of a young Yassen's situation with Scorpia and his very complex relationship with Hunter. John/Yassen

Our Settling Bones by Galimau A multi-chapter slow burn focused on a former assassin who has lost everything...and Yassen Gregorovich. The tension is off the charts and the characerization is on point. Everything you could want from the rarest of pairs. John Wick/Yassen

Lemniscate by Ireliss A look at what awaits Yassen when he arrives back at Scorpia after killing Vladimir Sharkovsky. This is deliciously dark as well as being entirely plausible. The sensory descriptions are fantastic. Yassen/Julia Rothman

#alex rider #ARshipweek #yalex #....#.....#mod posts #recs

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ericsonclan · 4 years

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You Done Tattooing That Piano?

Summary: After missing her chance to tell Louis how she really feels, Clementine comes up with another way to reveal her affections.

Read on A03:

Notes: Wrote this after playing Louis' friendship route and being convinced the entire time that those two were just fooling themselves by labelling what they have as "friendship". Those crazy kids... <3

Clementine was in trouble. Here she was, nearly two months into meeting Louis, and all she seemed to be able to think about in every spare moment was him. This shouldn’t be a bad thing. After all, she’d never expected she’d even get a chance to feel like this again. The last time anything even approaching these feelings hit her, she’d been young, alone and too focused on her mission to pursue anything further. Now she had a home, a family, a boy who made her spine tingle every time he smiled at her from across the picnic table... she was finally in a place where she could start a relationship. The only problem? She was pretty sure she’d already turned Louis down.

She hadn’t known what to expect that night she decided to accompany Louis to the piano room. Hearing the music fill the room as Louis sat alone in the candlelight had stirred something within Clementine, a feeling that at that time she couldn’t quite place. Sitting beside Louis at his beloved piano in the dead of night had driven one truth home for Clementine: she cared for this boy, deeply. But when the knife was placed in her hand and she’d finished carving her initial next to Louis’, Clementine had frozen. Everything was happening too quickly. She’d only known Louis a little over two weeks. Were these emotions bubbling up inside her something permanent or a side effect of the nerves she had from waiting for the raiders to attack. Could she really take a leap like this when any second the Delta could tear down their gates and all this could be taken away from her.

She’d handed the knife back to Louis. Then Louis had opened up to her, thanking her for the times she’d listened when no one else had, how she understood him as someone beyond the jokes he told. Clementine hadn’t known what to say to that. How could she encapsulate the admiration she held for Louis, the gratefulness she felt that he’d forgiven her and A.J. after everything had gone so wrong? She went with what she knew. “Friends are all we’ve got, and I’m glad we’ve got each other,” Louis had offered her a fist bump which she’d returned with a bit too much force, the song Louis composed was named “Super Fun Times Friend Song” and they’d shared a few more laughs before Clementine was called away to watch duty. It had been nice, but something in the back of Clementine’s mind left her feeling that things could have gone in a different direction.

The weeks following the attack on the Delta had confirmed this for Clementine. Every step of the way, Louis had been there for her. During the battle to rescue their friends, when he’d circled back to help her and A.J. find their way to the school, and when he’d run breathlessly through the forest with Clementine cradled in his arms, desperate to get her to Ruby before it was too late. He’d sat by her bed for weeks as she recuperated, playing music on the gramophone since he couldn’t bring the piano to her. He’d helped her navigate the school with her crutches, saved her from many a spill, and was always there to cheer her up when she was feeling down.

Every time her eyes met his, Clementine saw something in them, a look that no one else gave her, one that sent her heart tumbling within her in an instant. She knew there was something between them. But Louis went no further than those looks. He never took the next step, never asked or said anything that did more than proclaim their undying friendship for each other. Three weeks out of bed and on her crutches, Clementine was forced to face an uncomfortable fact: that night at the piano room had been Louis’ move. If she ever wanted anything more to happen between them, the ball was in her court.

Considering how spectacularly she’d flubbed a verbal confession to Louis, Clementine doubted she’d have much more luck with a second attempt. Should she write a letter? No, her writings skills and penmanship had basically dried up at a third-grade level. She wouldn’t be able to express all that she wanted to say on paper. Perhaps a gesture then: taking on his chores, offering him some of her stew at dinner, picking flower from the greenhouse. Clementine quickly decided none of those would work. Louis wouldn’t accept her taking on any extra chores or giving up her food so soon after losing her leg and as for the flowers, Clementine could just hear Louis’ voice in her head as he told everyone at the school about the lovely “friendship flowers” Clementine had gotten him. No, it had to be something undeniably romantic.

Clementine was lying on her bed one morning when inspiration finally struck. Of course. She didn’t need to come up with something new at all. What she should do to prove her feelings was the very thing she’d been too afraid to do that night. Grabbing her crutches, Clementine snuck down the hall as quietly as she could, making her way to the music room. On her way there, she spotted Louis standing on watch duty. Good. She didn’t want to risk him walking in on her. She wanted to keep it a surprise. As soon as Clementine reached the piano, she plopped down on the bench, casting her crutches to the side. Pulling out her own knife, she tattooed the piano once more, adding a heart around her and Louis’ initials. Next time Louis sat down to play, he would see the heart and know what it meant: that Clementine was willing to give something beyond friendship a try if he was. Her work done, Clementine pocketed the knife and picked up her crutches, making her way out of the room before anybody could spot her there. Her heart beat excitedly within her. She wondered how long it would be until Louis visited his piano again.

That evening, things seemed to be going normally at Ericson. Omar had ladled out the stew and almost everyone had sat down to eat. Ruby and Aasim were sitting by each other with Willy to their right, Violet sitting across from him. A.J. sat to Clementine’s left while her right side, the spot normally taken by Louis, remained open. Clementine wondered where he was. It wasn’t like him to miss out on their biggest meal of the day.

Suddenly the doors to the admin building burst open. Louis strode out looking angrier than any of them had seen in some time. Making his way over to the picnic table, he stood at the head of it, his hand on his hips. “Alright, whoever thought it would be funny to graffiti my piano better own up right now,”

“What are you talking about, Lou?” Violet asked, placing down her spoon and squinting at him with her good eye. “That piano’s already been graffitied more times than I can count and you never cared before,”

“I’m not talking about the old graffiti. I’m talking about the new addition somebody made today. Now who thought it would be funny to draw a heart around Clem and I’s initials?”

Clementine’s heart dropped into her gut. He’s angry about it? Maybe she’d been misreading things this whole time.

“Louis, this is silly,” Aasim stated dismissively. “Why in the world would any of us want to do that?”

“Bold words from one of my primary suspects!” Louis declared, jabbing a finger in Aasim’s direction. “If you feel the need to get back at me for all the times I’ve teased you, leave Clem out of it. Our friendship isn’t a joking matter. It’s something I take very seriously, and I thought you of all people with all your talk of “privacy” would respect that!"

“It wasn’t me!” Aasim’s eyes narrowed at the accusation.

Ruby tried to place a comforting hand over her boyfriend’s arm. “Now let’s not fight about something so silly-”

“Silly? Don’t act as if you’re not a potential culprit too, Ruby,” Louis interjected.

“Now why in the world would I be a suspect?” Ruby challenged, her lower lip jutting out as she frowned.

Clementine wished she could disappear into the ground right about now. This wasn’t how she’d expected things to go at all.

Louis rolled his eyes. “You’re always complaining about how everyone’s teasing you and Aasim for being so lovey-dovey around each other. Did you think pretending Clementine and I were a thing would get some of the heat off of you two? Clementine is my best friend, that’s all! You can’t go spreading lies to make yourself feel better,”

Ruby gasped, clearly insulted. “You think you can just go around making claims like that? Well, let me tell you-”

“This is all fucking stupid,” Violet grumbled. “Someone just ‘fess up,”

“Was that a deflection, Vi?” Louis challenged, his eyebrow raised. “Did you-”

“Alright, enough!” Clementine shouted, her volume bringing everyone to a standstill. “I was the one who left the heart, OK? It was me,”

“You?” Louis asked, looking utterly lost.

“Yeah,” Clementine looked down at the table, her cheeks burning in embarrassment. “It wasn’t a joke or anything. I thought it’d be an easier way to let you know. Guess I was wrong,”

Everyone at the table was silent. Willy and A.J. were watching in confusion, their faces still covered in leftover stew. All eyes were on either Louis or Clementine, waiting for either of them to speak. Neither did.

Louis was the first to do something. Without a word, he turned around, heading straight back to the admin building.

Shit. I fucked up. Clementine didn’t have to raise her head to feel the heat of the stares upon her. Silently, she picked up her spoon and resumed eating her stew. I don’t get it. Would it be that bad to be with me? There’s not a single other available girl his age anywhere near here. Everything I thought I saw though... I must have made it all up myself.

“Clementine…” Ruby’s voice was soft, almost sad.

She couldn’t stick around for this. Grabbing her crutches, Clementine rose to her feet. “I’m gonna call it a night,” With that she made her way back toward the dorms, unwilling to look back and see the pitying gazes following her. I can’t believe it went down like this. Here I was so confident it was a sure thing, and then…

Clementine paused in her journey, looking toward the admin building. Louis was in there right now, probably trying to figure out a way to scratch out that stupid heart from his piano. Did he hate her now? Clementine couldn’t bear the thought of that. Did she owe him an apology for what she’d done, humiliating him in front of all their friends when he could have turned her down in private if she’d just had the guts to confess? Maybe there wasn’t anyone to blame here. It was all a misunderstanding. Still, she didn’t want to go to bed thinking Louis was angry at her. Steeling her resolve, Clementine switched course and set out for the admin building.

Everything was completely silent as Clementine entered, slowly turning down the hall to the music room. She tried to keep as quiet as possible, her crutches softly tapping the floor and her foot lightly scuffing it each time she took a step. She could feel her gut twisting in dread. She didn’t know what she would say to Louis when she got there. Perhaps he wasn’t even in the music room after all. No sound came from it now. As she neared the ajar doors, Clementine peered through the crack, trying to get an idea of what was happening inside.

Louis was in there after all, sitting at the piano. He wasn’t playing though. Instead he was staring at the carved heart. He reached out to touch it, his other hand coming up to cover his mouth. What was going on? After a minute of reflection, Louis reached inside his coat pocket, pulling out his dagger. He’d decided to scratch the heart out after all. As he dug his knife into the wood of the piano, Clementine looked away. It was a mistake coming here. She should go.

When she turned her crutches to leave though, one ran into one of the empty cans scattered throughout the hallway. Clementine winced as the sound echoed down the hall.

“Who’s there?”

No escaping now. Clementine pressed open the doors, too ashamed to meet Louis’ eyes. “Louis, I just came by to apologize. I never meant to embarrass you like that. Whatever you want to do to get rid of that stupid heart is fine with me,”

Louis looked confused for a moment before a soft smile crossed his face. He patted the spot beside him on the piano bench. “Care to sit with me for a minute, Clemster?”

Clementine was puzzled but complied. Sitting down beside Louis, she leaned her crutches against the piano before turning to face him.

“Guess I shouldn’t have run off like that,” Louis scratched the back of his neck, not making eye contact. “I wasn’t really thinking that clearly after I heard you say you were the one who left the heart. I had to visit again to make sure it was actually real. And it is,” He looked back to where the heart with their initials lay. “Then I wanted to add something of my own,”

Clementine glanced up in surprise, her eyes locking on the carving. It wasn’t scratched out after all. The heart was still there, and their initials, but something new lay between them. Where before there was simply a C and an L, now there was a plus sign connecting the two. Clementine’s eyes shot over to Louis. She saw that same look there that had been making her heart flutter these past few weeks.

“It’s complete now,” A small grin formed on Louis’ face.

“I can see that,” Clementine felt a smile tugging at her own lips, a giddiness bubbling up inside her. “So I guess that means… we’re more than friends now,”

“Definitely,” The grin had widened, covering Louis’ entire face now. “More than best friends too! Man, who would’ve thought after that card game where you denied having feelings for anyone that you were in fact lying. You do have feelings for someone, someone named Louis. Which just so happens to be my name!”

Before Louis could say anything more, Clementine leaned upwards, capturing his lips in a quick kiss. Screw caution, she was going for what she wanted.

Louis met the kiss eagerly, his own lips pressing against hers, causing a small moan to escape Clementine’s lips.

Clementine immediately drew back, her face overheating as she realized the sound she’d just made. She glanced up to see how Louis was taking it, but he seemed to be in some sort of blissful haze, giggling excitedly as he looked over at her.

“God, how lucky am I? I’ve got the coolest best friend in the world and now it turns out she likes me too? That’s the dream,”

Clementine smiled up at Louis, basking in the moment. This was what she’d wanted all along. She’d just been too scared to let herself admit it until now. Thinking of the others, she turned her head to look back, hoping that none of them had thought to come check on them. “Do you think we ought to head back? We did stir up a lot of drama back there,”

“Ah, it can wait till tomorrow,” Louis waved his hand dismissively. “A moment like this calls for celebration. I’ll have you know I did not plan to call the song I played for you that night “Super Fun Times Friend Song”. I hereby retract that title so I can assign it one more befitting,”

“And what exactly did you have in mind?” Clementine asked, her eyes crinkling in amusement at Louis’ excitement.

“’Clementine’. Y’know, because I like fruit. And I like you even more so… there,”

That had Clementine blushing. She felt her face heating up as Louis began to play the song, the beautiful melody filling the room and dancing around them. Clementine let the music seep into her bones, taking in how much this song meant to Louis. It was the first thing he’d ever composed and he’d named it after her. That was the greatest gift she could ever imagine.

Slowly Clementine let her head rest upon Louis’ shoulder. She felt him flinch for an instant, but he didn’t miss a beat, continuing on with his music without dropping a single note. Clementine closed her eyes. She could see why Louis had gone to double check the piano. She didn’t quite believe this was real herself. But it was. She was home, she was happy, and her best friend was now something so much more to her. She felt complete.

#twdg #clouis #twdg louis #twdg clementine #fluff #fanfic

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idanwyn-et-al · 4 years

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Duets and Dastardly Deeds: A Harbor Herald Exclusive!

[The Palazzo Aldenard, Mist.]

Good day, lovely readers! It is daytime where you are, perhaps, yes? Or perhaps the stars have begun their slow scrawl across the darkened bowl of the heavens, the sun a memory to be gossiped about while Her Radiance is raising crops and crisping skins on the other side of our own star. Whatever light is creeping across your parquet floor, your larboard, your patch of forest, I hope to find you in good health and with a hankering to read about a most curious concert that took place at the Palazzo Aldenard’s Opera House a few days past.

This concert hall is well-known to many, but I confess, lovely readers, that it was this reporter’s first chance to visit the venerable venue for herself, and it did not disappoint. A crewmate of mine (ah yes, yours truly is a captain now, of her very own definitely-haunted ship; quite the tale of an unlikely inheritance, and utterly better-suited for another column entirely) and I took our seats, sharing uisghe and waiting for the show to begin. As this reporter is a long time fan of Savo’s (she is indirectly responsible for a prison sentence I served some years back, another story best shared over a plate of steak frites and a gallon of stout), I knew that her gnarled, underfed-despite-everyone’s-best-efforts paw brings a twist to every show, and inspires the audience to loosen up when confronted with the unexpected. Little did I know how much of a twist this show would wring itself into, like a wet rag squeezing water over still-smoldering embers! However, I am getting ahead of myself, lovelies.

The evening began with a dueling duet; T’ahlia and D’ahlia! D’ahlia played classical piano with poise and elegance, fingers running over the keys nimbly. T’ahlia echoed and responded with her ceruleum guitar, sending reverbs into the rafters. Still, D’ahlia was dauntless, playing the act of straight man to the showy comedy of T’ahlia’s riffs. Both showcased skill and playfulness with ease, getting things off to a joyful start.

The duo was joined by Hani Dan’na, singing a song about lost relationships. Resigned, lovely lyrics left many an eye wet; surely, it was the profusion of springtime blossoms outside that caused such a thing. Surely, that.

Lionnellais Deveraux and Rythas Brynelle next took the stage, a pas de deux in lyrical form about looking at oneself in the looking glass and resolving to change. The two tall, lithe performers did, indeed, seem to be looking into a mirror as their eyes met and their melodic runs tumbled into harmonies. To this reporter, they seemed to encapsulate the desire to make today the first day of the rest of their lives---to use a quote oft-seen in cross-stitch on one’s grandmama’s wall---but were almost daring the other to be the first to change.

Aero, a new performer to this reporter and many others in the audience, was as forthright about being high on Shroud mushrooms as he was about body positivity; he performed entirely in the nude, and one was certainly larger than the other (pupils, I mean. Pupils!). Savo provided riffs on her famed ten-stringed viol, and the pair brought levity to the stage. I do believe in a thing called love, even if it comes at the cost of Keepers of the Moon dragging you out into the woods and making you question all you’ve ever known.

Zanin Briggs and Rythas continued in this vein with the next piece; it seems they, too, are reluctant-yet-indulgent caretakers of Savo and Fheyla. Family may make you question everything, dear readers, but if they lead you to great adventures, things like fleas, questionable manners, and spotty hygiene can be overlooked.

A pair of mysterious Elezen women took the boards with a back-to-back set filled with as much fire as a bellyful of my late Papa’s famous uisghe. Injecting the room with a raw-hearted, toothy roar of lyrics meant to ignite the still-simmering resentment in Ishgard, these mysterious performers dressed to impress did just that! Yes, dear readers, although word out of those stony, snowcapped spires is that the Lord Commander has done his level best to close the gap between high and lowborn, it seems a thousand years of rigid social structures and war leave those still in the social depths wondering when their voices will really be heard. It was then when this reporter began to notice something of a theme throughout the night’s performances; unease, discontent, loss, building into...

FIRE! You read that right, faithful readers; a fire erupted backstage, and we were all summarily evacuated to the lawn for half a bell’s time. Take heart; the Palazzo’s staff were professional, efficient, and informative. I have now learned that if one must shout fire at a crowded theater, this is the theater in which to do so, lovelies. Once the blaze was contained, the show did indeed go on; and that, I believe, is my quota of cliched phrases for this article.

Once we had all filed back in---neatly and in single file, I assure you---Lionnellais and Rythas welcomed the audience back with a jaunty tune with the refrain “Under Censure”. This reporter must confess that the untimely fire combined with the lyrics that speak of restraints fraying under pressure had her wondering a great many things. Still, just as the show went on, so, too, must this article.

T’ahlia returned to the stage with an acoustic guitar, and was joined by Hesper of Trinity. The pair sang a soulful duet about an “army of two” that would stand against all odds and defy the world. Your faithful reporter was very much lost in her own thoughts and suppositions, but was briefly brought back to attention by the songstress Sif, who joined T’ahlia for the next piece. This one spoke of T’ahlia’s conflicted feelings of yearning and betrayal directed at her mother, a woman of the Shroud who did her best for the young Miqo’te and yet left her wanting. The duo of Sif and T’ahlia singing call-and-response that melded into soulful, wistful harmonies drew the audience in and included us in such tender, bittersweet recollections.

As their last chords were still lingering like dark tea on the sides of the tongue, we were all drawn to our feet by an upbeat, glittering tune about calling on shinobi when in need! True to the legacy of those infamous assassins, the stage effects were superb; one might even believe that said shinobi were hiding in plain sight, deploying mudra and shadow-smoke to great effect amongst the waving glow wands of the enthused crowd. This reporter could not help but muse over how some of the other performers might, indeed, be inspired to hire a shinobi for their current troubles that simmered along the floorboards along with the occasional puff of singed scenery.

T’ahlia and Dane Escherra brought us all back to those melancholy undercurrents, with the latter offering soulful vocals recounting being a wartime prostitute. They fight like men, die like boys, and the women are expected to pretend it doesn’t affect them, offer themselves up as trophies. It was a simple yet poignant view into a world that many would rather pretend does not exist; this reporter, for one, was more interested in the stories of these women than the wars that raged around them.

Oh, dear readers, how I do eat up the ilms of column space on this one! The final two acts followed the evening’s emotional hills and vales, leaving us on a hill of humor. Zeraia Reynard crooned and Savo clawed tunes about male Seekers of the Sun, and...well, the lyrics are not entirely fit for print, but in the interest of public health (and allowing for poetic embellishment), this reporter must firmly suggest that all those who have enjoyed sexual relations with male Seekers of the Sun be tested for diseases at your local chirurgeon. E’rin Rae’s finale piece, in which she joined the dogpile (catpile) upon male Seekers, was a humorous lament about how they all seem to prefer the same sex, and how she has resigned herself to this fact.

Though this sennight’s issue has been dedicated to my personal review of this revue, I must let you all in on a little secret; the fire that occurred backstage is quite suspicious, and this reporter will be writing another article or two as she investigates it. In the next sennight’s issue, please look forward to a collection of thoughts, statements, and observations by those that attended the show. In the meantime, I wish you all health and happiness, and would highly recommend the Palazzo Aldenard for its fine facility and superb entertainers.

Song and Scandal,

Idanwyn Lluanswys

Harbor Herald Food and Lifestyle Columnist

((tagging @palazzoaldenard , @savothesewercat , @rythasbrenelle , @fheylahaken , @whitherwanderer�� ! Please tag others, I am sleepy and forgetful. Thank you for the excellent show, and please stay tuned as Idanwyn does her best to investigate! I also enjoy going to concerts, restaurants, and other such fun social events to write articles, so message me here or on discord at #esper3592 if you’ve got something fun coming up!))

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jupitermelichios · 4 years

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Jupiter’s Top 10 Fic Series of the Decade

In no particular order (and belonging to no particular fandom)

Honourable Mentions: Of Hunters & Hellblazers by KittyAug - Self Help by maskedfangirl - Bad Jokes by hahaharley - Doubtful Sanity by DustToDust - Wilton’s Bakery ‘Verse by machine_dove & sproings - Sic Gorgiamus Allos Subjectatos Nunc by etothepii - New Favourite F Word by Polaris - little beasts by noctiphany & likewinning

drawn into something by Nonymos (Venom, Eddie/Venom, Dan/Anne, Eddie/Venom/Dan/Anne)

“Eddie, you… and him.”

“Yeah.” Eddie stares at the floor. “And… and look, Annie, I know it’s weird, but I can explain, I…”

His voice breaks, he’s damn near tearing up, panic rising again—and he jumps when Anne cups his face.

“Hey, it’s—it’s all right, Eddie.” She’s making a valiant effort to smile. “Don’t get so worked up. I’m not gonna run screaming.”

“No?” He laughs and sniffs. “Damn. Starting to wonder what it’s gonna take, at this point.”

This is not Nonymos’s only entry on this list. In fact they may just be my favourite fanfic author of all time. Drawn into something is everything everything I want from a Venom sequel, emotional, kinky, romantic, and poly.

OTP: Fight Club by MorganOfTheFey (Detroit: Become Human, RK900/Gavin)

"One hundred. Ten X," Nines says, voice flat enough it almost doesn't sound like bragging. "I would have been decommissioned otherwise."

"Ohhhh. Aw, that's sad. Just," She tries to snap her fingers and gets distracted for a moment when she can't. "Jus'like that?"

"Yeah RK, that's so sad," Gavin echoes. "Can you play yourself despacito?"

His own phone blares the song barely a second later. Gavin drops a few f-bombs fumbling to get it out of his jacket pocket and turn it off. Then as soon as he puts it back in his pocket, it starts up again.

"Thank you for the suggestion, detective," RK900 says. "This is making me feel better."

The fourth part of this is still coming out, and it’s the highlight of my week when the new chapter drops.

Dreams of the Waking Man by Lex_Munroe (Marvel Comics, Wade/Cable, Daken/Bullseye, Wade & Hope)

All at once, it hurts. It hurts worse than the day Nate died (because Wade couldn’t accept it back then, insisted that Nate had managed to timeslide out, that the busted old telemetry circuit would only let him go forward and he was just lost for a little while).

He sits in the middle of the floor, ducks his head, cries.

She was smarter than he was—than he is. She’d known all along. Brave girl.

Timesliding doesn’t work right on Wade, never has, and their cobbled-together sliding module barely had power to take one stringy teenager for one jump.

She’d known she was leaving her parents, that she certainly wouldn’t see one of them again and quite possibly wouldn’t see the other.

Wade allows himself a moment more for grief and shame and humility. Then he clears his throat and wipes his eyes and gets back to work.

This may be the cleverest fic I’ve ever read. Crossovers, theoretical physics, and the best love story Marvel never wrote.

The Mountains Are The Same by bonehandledknife & Primarybufferpanel (Mad Max: Fury Road, Furiosa/Max, Furiosa/Ace, Everyone & Healthy Coping Mechanisms)

“'Real isn’t how you are made’” Gilly said with the air of a quote, of a Remembering, “'It’s a thing that happens to you.’”

Rotor closed his eyes in a long blink, “A thing that hurts, innit it right?”

“Sometimes,” Gilly agreed, squeezing his hand, “That’s life though, when you are Real. We all become it bit by bit. But it doesn’t happen if you’re not strong, if you’re not soft, if you’re not sturdy.”

“ But how can y'be all of those at once ?” he wheezed out. It’s getting hard to catch his breath.

“You are all that right now, aren’t you?” Gilly asked him with piercing eyes, “No one else of all these Boys has had the strength to ask for me. And I will Witness you as I have kept all those of my sisters who’ve fallen these past days.”

This series is not always easy, it doesn’t shy away from the hard or the dark or the painful, but it is always worth reading.

The Unspoken Truth by Nonymos (MCU, Clint/Loki)

Barton glared at him like he was trying to decide whether he was being mocked or not, but the next second, his shoulders slumped. Loki was familiar with the feeling – that dreadful feeling of discovering something repulsive in one's own nature.

And then, he waited. He waited for Barton to think and connect the dots, to realize that an obvious solution was standing just before him, to remember how he had felt when waking up tied down, or being forced to drink down the water. The demi-god just stood there, hoping – almost praying for the first time in his life – that his enemy would look up at him with something else than hatred in his eyes.

No one writes kink quite like Nonymos writes kink, and this series is the perfect encapsulation of that.

The Stone Gryphon by rthstewart (Narnia, primarily Gen)

"Tools!" Richard was so shocked he was near speechless. He sat down heavily on the bench and began writing frantically in that strange code. "You are saying that you have observed ordinary crows use tools? Peter, that is… remarkable."

"Well, I've seen Beavers use fishing tackle and sewing machines, so it didn't seem that unusual at the time."

I’m not going to lie, this may not be to everyone’s taste. But, amateur theologian, lover of weird animal facts, and history nerd that I am, there are very few fics more exactly tailored to my interests.

Republic of Heaven Community Radio by ErinPtah (WtNV x His Dark Materials, Cecil/Carlos)

The greeting catches both her and Carlos off-guard. It's not wrong to talk directly to another person's daemon, but it's still a little weird. "Likewise," she stammers.

They're both waiting for the obvious next step, which is for Cecil to introduce his daemon. The fact that Carlos hasn't spotted her yet is understandable — a big community gathering in a small space, you get plenty of daemons breaking away from their humans to socialize directly with each other. Any of the dozen animal shapes currently within ten feet of them could be Cecil's. If his daemon has an unusually high range, there are even more possibilities.

What Cecil says instead is, "If you ever have any important experimental-theology news that you need to share with the town, call me any time! Everyone listens to my show." There's a touch of what Carlos hopes is nothing more sinister than smugness when he adds, "Everyone."

He steps out of the way to let someone else interrogate Carlos, and vanishes into the crowd. Carlos doesn't get a chance to see what daemon he leaves with.

This may be the most carefully thought out crossover I’ve ever read, and I’m a little in awe of ErinPtah’s skills.

The Soul in the Machine by missdreawrites & Troodon (Dishonoured, Corvo/Outsider)

“... Outsider?” Corvo asked, sitting down on the filthy floor. “In the published list of the people who died of the Plague… how many were registered Augments?”

“Son of a bitch, ” Corvo swore with feeling. “This is… look at this waste. We aren't even people to them, are we?” He looked down at the body next to him. “And I killed the one person who could help. I did this. I doomed an entire people to plague, and murder and…”

The cyberpunk Dishonoured AU I desperately wish I’d thought of, because it works so very well.

In Which Tony Stark Builds Himself Some Friends (But His Family Was Assigned by Nick Fury) by scifigrl47 (MCU, Steve/Tony)

“Do you know what the difference between a villain and a super villain is, Stark?” Coulson said, leaning his palms on the tabletop, looming over everything like a very snappily dressed gargoyle.

“Style?” Tony asked, pointing both index fingers in Coulson's direction like the gunslinger that he was. He added a wide grin to the gesture, but Coulson didn't seem to notice.

“A villain has a giant mass of robotic vacuum cleaners that he can sic on his enemies. A super villain gives them the ability to fly.”

“In my defense, I do not actually remember installing repulsor technology in the Roombas,” Tony said, choosing his words carefully. It had been a working theory, sure, but he still wasn't quite sure when he implemented it. Maybe sometime on Tuesday night... That one was a blur. “It was a very long couple of days. So I was as surprised by that as everyone else.”

This doesn’t really count as a rec, since everyone in the fandom has read it already, but it really wouldn’t be fair to draw up a ‘best of the 2010s’ list and not include this.

A Great and Gruesome Height by mokuyoubi (Hannibal, Will/Hannibal)

Bedelia lashes out but Will is quicker. He grabs her wrist, pressing hard between the delicate bones with his thumb, until she makes a soft noise of distress and drops the fork.

Hannibal purses his lips and leans in close to her ear. “Now that is disappointing,” he whispers, and Bedelia has the good sense to be afraid with that mouth so near her skin. He inhales her scent deeply and straightens. “I thought you and I were beyond such petty jabs.”

“Were it not for the fact that you required medical attention, I have no doubt I would have met a similarly crass ending at the hands of your pet,” she says, lip curling in disgust.

Hannibal smiles serenely and says, “Will is a creature entirely of his own making. It is not to me to guide his hand. Merely to share in the sublime perfection of his vision, when he allows it.”

There are many dark!Will stories out there, and most of them are a lot of fun, but few are quite at believable as this one.

#top 10 list #top 10 fic #stony #hannigram #symbrock #cablepool #reed900 #cecilos #frosthawk #fic recs

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stanonepiece · 5 years

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this is a letter written to virginia woolf written by her alleged lover: vita sackville-west

(because you’re just as much of a literature geek as i am)

(and because this letter perfectly encapsulates my feelings for you ((that i am always too sheepish to say)))

(filled with little notes/ramblings of mine)

“…I am reduced to a thing that wants Virginia. (very relatable, though, in this case, it would be: a thing that wants Sharazad.) I composed a beautiful letter to you in the sleepless nightmare hours of the night, and it has all gone: I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way. You, with all your undumb letters, would never write so elementary a phrase as that; perhaps you wouldn’t even feel it. And yet I believe you’ll be sensible of a little gap. But you’d clothe it in so exquisite a phrase that it should lose a little of its reality. (The way you think, the words you say have always intrigued me greatly! I was (still am) intimidated by how wonderful your mind is. My mind is filled with you; would it be selfish to hope that I am in yours?) Whereas with me it is quite stark: I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal. So this letter is really just a squeal of pain. It is incredible how essential to me you have become. (This statement proved right once again today – me getting cranky af when I hadn’t talked to you a l l day. :( Like sit doWN bicth and STOP SULKING!) I suppose you are accustomed to people saying these things. (“kAnGjUn AlwaYS hAs PeoPle CrUshIng On HiM!” is basically what this says.. but true.. I f*ll too.) Damn you, spoilt creature; I shan’t make you love me any more by giving myself away like this — But oh my dear, I can’t be clever and stand-offish with you: I love you too much for that. Too truly. You have no idea how stand-offish I can be with people I don’t love. I have brought it to a fine art. But you have broken down my defenses. And I don’t really resent it.” (Maybe you recognise this line? It’s my pinned quote back at kaq— but this is how I truly feel about you. You make me want to expose myself (nOt iN ThAT waY yoU FOoL) (bUt AlSo in tHaT waY tOo..) and normally, I would hate feeling so stripped off. But it’s different with you.)

Virginia Woolf is one of my favourite writers! I always thought the way she wrote was so painfully beautiful, like I could f e e l her words. Which is one of the greatest things a write could achieve, right? She also liked to play with a lot of imagery, which always made me snort out a chuckle but nod in amazement whilst so. When I was searching up on her for an assignment, I came across her affairs with Vita Sackville-west! I thought their dynamics were very cute, because Vita was always so open with her feelings, basically yelling at the top of her lungs at how infatuated she was with Virginia – but Virginia was a bit more reserved and careful with her words, using her imagery skills and all that. Here’s her reply:

“Your letter came this morning — But why do you think I don’t feel, or that I make phrases? “Lovely phrases” you say which rob things of reality. Just the opposite. Always, always, always I try to say what I feel. Will you then believe that after you went last Tuesday — exactly a week ago — out I went into the slums of Bloomsbury, to find a barrel organ. But it did not make me cheerful … And ever since, nothing important has happened — Somehow it’s dull and damp. I have been dull; I have missed you. I do miss you. I shall miss you. And if you don’t believe it, you’re a longeared owl and ass. Open the top button of your jersey and you will see, nestling inside, a lively squirrel with the most inquisitive habits, but a dear creature all the same.”

See what I mean? There’s a stark contrast between the way Vita and Virginia speak, but yet, they mix so perfectly?! I love that about them! Even though Virginia was deemed as the more reserved between the two, Vita became her muse, leading her to write her novel Orlando! She actually sent the original manuscript to Vita (on October 11th, a day before my birthday!) with her initials engraved on the spine.

It might also be important to note that Virginia was much older than Vita at the time,, and in their first letters to each other, Vita addresses her as “Mrs. Woolf” and Virginia replies back: “Dear Mrs. Nicholson,

(But I wish you could be induced to call me Virginia).”

And Vita:

“My dear Virginia,

(You see I don’t take much inducing. Could you be induced likewise, do you think?)”

Reading that made me giggle,,,,,,,, in the silliest way possible. It was a very witty, flirty reply! How could I not laugh?!

Their little affair might be my favourite. I found them so adorable – like when Vita wrote an alphabet letter,, she listed out everything she saw in Egypt alphabetically and ended it with:

“What else? I miss you horribly…

…The wish to steal Virginia overcomes me, — steal her, take her away, and put her in the sun among the objects mentioned alphabetically above. If I can get myself to Asia and Africa, why can’t you? (But with me, please.)” (Ah, is this ME begging for you?) (The answer is: yes. Mayhaps It IS!)

Their relationship ended but their letters (and friendship!) never stopped up ‘til Virginia’s suicide, and they both never stopped expressing their love for each other — as they described it: “unalterable, permanent.”

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creideamhgradochas · 6 years

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Thanks to the lovely @marvelatmytrash for taking the time to answer these! Get to know more about lovely Bee, go give her a follow and then show her some love!

These questions are from this list. You should check it out, there’s 50 questions all together and they’d be great to ask your favorite fic writer!

1) How old were you when you first starting writing fan-fiction?

I think I had just turned 22, I was fresh out of undergrad and wanted a way to keep my writing and editing skills sharp while I job hunted.

2) Do you prefer writing OC’s or reader inserts? Explain your answer.

I think I’ve only written reader inserts. I usually leave their physical attributes nondescript but I definitely create intense personalities to all my reader inserts. I think I do this because I want my readers to imagine themselves as these strong, kickass females, who are also vulnerable, but have weak spots, the same way all of us do. I put a lot of effort into creating strong female characters that still have flaws, no Mary Sues for me!

3) What is your favorite genre to write for?

I love writing Marvel. I pretty much only write Marvel, predominantly Canon because I have so much comic book knowledge, plus I love writing fight scenes.

4) If you had to delete one of your stories and never speak of it again, which would it be and why?

Oh lord, probably Compensation and Consequences, its just a small little one shot that I did as a request but its a Game of Thrones AU. It definitely has some problematic choices in it, I totally shoe horned the sex and attraction into it. Overall it’s just trash.

5) When is your preferred time to write?

I always find myself writing at 1am or onwards. A lot of the time I’ll just knuckle down around 1am and do what I call a writing sprint, where I’ll write all the new parts for whatever stories I’m working on and get them all done in one night, then edit the next day and start queuing them up.

6) Where do you take your inspiration from?

This is so embarrassing but I get most inspired by listening to musical soundtracks. There are a couple of my stories that have direct song quotes from Waitress and Heathers. Musicals are so rich and overdramatic, they have always been a big part of my emotional development. So whenever inspiration strikes I have a whole playlist of angst songs or love songs from various musicals that I just play in the background on repeat and I will shamelessly pull lines directly from them.

7) In your Divided series, what’s your favorite scene that you wrote?

Ooo that’s such a tough one, honestly that whole series is just one of my absolute favorites. But if I had to choose, I think the chase scene in Bucharest. It’s so dynamic and there is so much happening and I honestly watched that scene frame by frame for a week and worked this original character into it step by step.

8) Have you ever amended a story due to criticisms you’ve received after posting it?

I’ve never changed the story itself. A couple times I’ve changed the formatting at peoples suggestions. I didn’t chunk my paragraphs well when I first started, but someone suggested I break it up more so I did. It’s little changes like that, but I would never change what I write because someone dislikes it. My writing is for me, I’m just sharing it with others for fun.

9) Who is your favorite character to write for? Why?

Bucky. Absolutely Bucky. Though I am warming up to Steve. He has such dimension to him, he’s been a favorite of mine ever since I started reading comic books. His story is so sad and in-depth and there has always been room for new details and development in every reboot. He’s such a dynamic character and that makes him such a treat to write.

10) Who is your least favorite character to write for? Why?

Hahaha I guess Thor, but I actively avoid writing him cause his tone is so hard to get right without over doing it, so I’m not sure if he counts. Tony is tough too, cause you want to be quippy and clever without being over the top, and that’s a very fine line.

11) How did you come up with the title for the Divided series?

I am a big fan of one word titles, maybe I am just on the Disney train with Tangled, Brave, Frozen, etc. I love it when one word can encapsulate what the series is about and also when the word has more weight than just it’s basic meaning. Aftershocks, my first series, is a good example of this. The main character has suffered from shock torture and has a lot of scars and residual issues from it, but Aftershocks is also a psych term sometimes used to refer to the radiating effects of PTSD on the victim and those around them. Divided was the same way, it encapsulated both the theme of Civil War which is the changing and division of Tony and Steve’s relationship and also shows how Bucky and Steve, though still perceived as a unit are Divided now by not only their different experiences but their competition for the same woman.

12) How did you come up with the idea for Divided series?

I’m honestly not entirely sure. I had this basic idea of working a reader into Bucky’s story in Civil War, but the original plan didn’t have Steve involved at all and definitely wasn’t on the level that Divided eventually became. Once I decided that the reader would start with Steve, it immediately raised the stakes of the whole story and this character of The Scorpion began to take shape. After that, the whole thing got pretty easy, she was a fully formed character and a lot of what happened in Divided was just me asking myself what choices this character would make and how the surrounding characters would honestly respond. I try really hard to just develop my characters thoroughly and then let them make honest choices, I think that’s the best way to keep a story real and authentic.

13) Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them?

Oh yes, my hidden shame, and it haunts me. It’s called Royal Flush, and it currently has 3 parts. It’s a T’Challa fic and a lot of people have found it and liked it and I feel so guilty that it hasn’t gone anywhere in a year. Honestly, this mess up is totally on me. I never draft out my stories, and I know I should, I usually just make it up as I got along and sometimes I just hit a blockade with where it’s going to go. I definitely want to finish that fic, but just have no idea how, so if anyone has any ideas or suggestions, throw them my way!

14) Are there any stories that you’ve written that you’d really love to do a sequel to?

I’m going to say Divided, just because it is one of my favorites and I so deeply love Scorpion as a character. Her struggle in Divided was so hard and I hate to leave her there just heartbroken. I have drafted a couple followups for that story, but after how Infinity War ended, I feel like it would just be cruel to put her through losing Bucky all over again.

15) Are there any stories that you wished you’d ended differently?

I am happy to say that there are none that I would do differently. I’m extremely content in how they all ended.

16) Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?

I mean first and foremost, I have to talk about @imhereforbvcky, she was my first real friend on here. We started talking when I was writing Aftershocks and I eventually convinced her to take a crack at writing herself and she finally did and wrote this incredible fic, I’ll Be Good. It honestly is so amazing! Mee specializes in the fem fatale, she writes these incredible badasses that are all dark and twisty, I honestly don’t know how she makes violence so elegant, but she does.

@denialanderror is another one, her Melodies series is so perfect and lovely, she gets this beautiful vulnerability to Bucky that just attacks my heart. It’s such a wonderful change of pace from the way that I write and I always reread it whenever I need to be reminded of the soft parts in his personhood. I honestly love it so much and recommend it to everyone. Plus she is an amazing friend and such a fun person to send memes back and forth with.

Finally @bitsandbobsandstuff just full on destroyed me as a person with Safe With Me. That story honestly puts everything I’ve ever written to shame, her deep understanding of Bucky as a character is just like nothing else I’ve ever read. It’s such an in-depth story with an incredible slow burn, if you haven’t read it yet, you are missing out.

17) Do you have a story that you look back on and cringe when you reread it?

I cringe a little bit with Aftershocks, my first series, but I also see a lot of value in it. Whenever I get stuck or think my writing isn’t good enough, I reread it and remind myself how far I have come as a writer, and that always helps to get me back on track.

18) Do you prefer listening to music when you’re writing or do you need silence?

Both, sometimes I just have the same song playing on repeat in the background, other times I need complete silence cause the monologue in my head is flowing so quickly. I definitely edit in silence, I cannot hear my tone or catch my mistakes when rereading if I don’t have silence.

19) Have you ever cried whilst writing a story?

Hahaha I have, I cried while writing a couple parts of Divided, that story is very close to my heart cause the love triangle in it is unfortunately something that happened to me, and I accidentally hurt someone I cared for a lot.

20) Which part of your Divided series fic was the hardest to write?

Hahaha probably the one or two sex scenes I snuck into it hahaha. It was just not a story that really leant itself to smut. Like you’re not going to be running for your life, camping out with fellow teammates and just quietly have a fuck in the dirt. So squeezing those sex scenes in there always felt a bit funny to me, but I think in the long run they both fit and were put in at appropriate times.

21) Do you make a general outline for your stories or do you just go with the flow?

I probably should make an outline but I always just go with the flow, I honestly have no idea where my stories are going till they get there. But I do reread my story whenever I get stuck so that way I can tie things back in or close up lose ends.

22) What is something you wished you’d known before you started posting fan-fiction?

To breakup my paragraphs and use the keep reading button hahaha

23) Do you have a story that you feel doesn’t get as much love as you’d like?

I am currently feeling that way about a story I just started called Siren’s Soldier, so I paused it for a little bit to see if it was worth continuing but it recently got a bunch of love while I was in Italy so it might be time to come back to it.

24) In contrast to 23 is there a story which gets lots of love which you kinda eye roll at?

Nothing that I’ve written to be honest. There are a couple of exceptionally problematic stories that have an absurd amount of notes and that bums me out, just because I don’t like seeing those kind of relationships idolized or modeled. To clarify, the issue I have is that these kind of stories have a lot of gas lighting, self harm, non consensual sex, and sometimes even violent relationship dynamics. I work very hard to make sure that my characters model healthy relationship habits and positive communication because we need to stop romanticizing rape and abuse in relationships, so it bugs me when fics that do that are popular.

25) Are any of your characters based on real people?

I model my readers off of specific parts on my own personality. I essentially take one side of myself and just exacerbate it into a whole character. I am a very independent person and a feminist myself so a lot of my female characters have those similar qualities of independence and confidence. Especially when doing reader inserts, you want to make the character someone that you yourself want to be, your alter ego, someone to escape to. That’s why I’ll let my characters, be selfish or shitty communicators but I’ll never let them get down on themselves, we do enough of that in our real lives, lets not do it in our fantasy lives.

26) What’s the biggest compliment you’ve gotten?

Hmmm this is a hard one, @imhereforbvcky sent me a very disarming compliment the other day that totally moved me to tears. But most of the ones that really hit me are when people recognize the amount of effort that goes into everything, or when they message me to talk about my story and see all the little easter eggs I’ve tossed into the early chapters. I also live for every reblog you’ve ever done, they always make me feel so loved and valued, I’ve honestly have gone back and reread your reblogs when I’m feeling down on my writing and they always pick me back up. It takes a lot of time to create a world and characters and tie everything together in one neat story and having that recognized always makes my heart sing!

27) What’s the harshest criticism you’ve gotten?

I haven’t really gotten a lot of harsh criticism, I’ve gotten bullshit anonymous messages that are just mean, but no real criticism. I’ve gotten constructive criticism but a lot of that has been kind and helpful so I don’t take that personally at all.

28) Do you share your story ideas with anyone else or do you keep them close to your chest?

@imhereforbvcky and @denialanderror and I have a group chat on instagram so whenever I’m particularly jazzed about something I drop the premise into that chat and get their feedback but most of my big twists or turns I keep close to my chest so that way they can be a surprise to everyone.

29) Do people know you write fan-fiction? In my real life?

Some people. My best friend knows but she’s never read it. My boyfriend knows and sometimes reads the smut I write and will use it against me in bed. He frequently likes to quote some of my own lines to me, he thinks its funny, I don’t find it as amusing. But he is a lot of my inspiration for writing positive relationship dynamics, we work really hard at having a healthy, communicative relationship and that manifests in my writing frequently.

30) What’s you favorite minor character you’ve written?

I really like Om, this character I wrote for Siren’s Soldier, they are non binary and do not have a set gender identity so that was fun to play with and extrapolate on, especially because their non-binary personality had a lot to do with their power so that was really cool to explore to explore.

31) What spurs you on during the writing process?

I generally get really excited when things are free flowing so I guess I spur myself on. I take a lot of joy and pleasure in the things I write and feel my stomach twist when I’m writing suspenseful parts, so a lot of it is just my own enjoyment.

32) What’s your favorite trope to write?

I’m a sucker for the slow burn, so I love writing the enemies become lovers trope. Usually I don’t actually start them as real enemies, but they never start close or as friends. I’m not a big fan of the falling in love with my best friend trope, as I have a bunch of guy friends that I have never once had an urge to fall in love with haha.

33) Can you remember the first fic you read? What was it about?

Oh god, I honestly can’t. I wish I could. I didn’t start reading fanfic until after Civil War came out and I graduated from college. I remember being in a place where I was just disenchanted with porn but I was super into marvel so I went looking for marvel smut on the internet and found the Bucky smut rabbit hole. I remember reading a lot of different stories and never finding exactly what I wanted and also finding a lot of problematic sexual relationships. At that time I was working as a sex education teacher and I remember thinking that I could write better smut with healthier relationship dynamics, and I did. That’s how it all started.

34) If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

Ooooh blimey, this is impossible because I write a combination of all three most times. I guess I would have to say angst, causing it doesn’t get boring so easily. There are so many angst tropes to explore and play with. So yes, definitely angst.

#milestone celebration #ask the author #marvelatmytrash

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crasherfly · 4 years

Text

Forgiveness, Anger, Absence and Processing

“Being angry doesn’t make the other person, it only makes me worse.”

The mantra plays for what must be the 20th time this week, and I exhale. I don’t meditate long- just 15 minutes a day, usually in the evening, but this mantra in particular has stuck with me this week.

That’s ‘cuz I’ve been holding in a lot of anger. More than I could possibly exhale.

I mean, what’s not to be angry about, these days?

Broadly speaking- the existential threats of political, religious and infrastructural change are all worthy of encapsulating rage over. Any left-leaning individual can be righteously angry for the next, say, 40 years. No court would convict ‘em.

Well, uh. At least, no court in prior times. But I digress.

But the past couple of weeks, my anger has morphed into something more personal, more raw than what the headlines on Facebook or Twitter capture.

If I had to describe this descent, I think I would simply say “lost patience”, which primarily manifests itself in the form of continuous sighs, chewed lips, and vigorous use of the “mute” button in my online circles.

Everywhere I turn, I see this simmering anger mirrored by my own acquaintances- most notably, my IRL friends, as our daily conversations shift from jovial memes and video game news to a slow drip of twitter links and frantic retellings of personal conflicts with folks of opposing ideologies.

Over time, the number of digital social avenues muted climbs as the number of invitations for gaming and simul-watching drops. The avenues themselves grow quieter and quieter, as we all retreat to our own corners, our own support systems, our own echo chambers.

“People are human. They make mistakes. Each of us always does the best we can in a moment of pressure, and I forgive myself and others for not doing differently.”

I exhale once more and open my eyes, my contacts sliding around on the surfaces of my eyes before finally sticking in place, the blurry light of my sakura candle finally coming into focus. I look at the flickering flame and do my best to focus, imagining the flame as the point of my breath where I draw peace and power. For a few seconds at a time, it works, and I’m formless. When my eyes close, I see into an infinite of pooled black. It’s the most peaceful place I’ll ever know- total, soundless, shapeless nothing. I call it the Great Silence. It’s what I hope the afterlife will be.

I wish I could say the source of my anger, disappointment and lacking comes from anywhere so righteous as a political or religious cause, but the truth is, I’ve never been an evangelist for anything so lofty as all of that. I’ve always been self-contained, more concerned with keeping myself upright for another day. It’s a privilege so obvious that I don’t have to tell you my demographics- you can guess what kind of person in America has the luxury of only worrying about themselves. Even so, I can barely imagine how others have the energy to extend themselves beyond their own well-being.

The truth is I miss my friends.

This is weird to say, ‘cuz never before have my friends been more accessible. I can find them on twitter, facebook, discord, line, or any given video game. Rarely does a day pass where I don’t hear from ANYONE.

Yet, the past few weeks, I’ve felt acutely alone, peering over a widening gulf that separates me from so many folks I used to rely upon for support- parents, siblings, friends. And in my guts, I feel like the source of separation is distinctly rooted in anger- not the existence of it, but how I’ve chosen to approach it.

“Forgiveness, like any exercise, takes time. I may not fully forgive myself or others today, but if I keep working, someday, I will.”

I’ve been warring to disconnect from my anger entirely, even as November approaches. It’s not unlike an alcoholic draining their bottles into the sink just ahead of the holidays. I’ve chosen the worst possible time to step off the ideological battlefield.

Even so, choose it, I did. Because we can’t schedule emotional meltdowns or mental health emergencies, and after my June-August, change had to happen, come-what-will. A few months back, I made several drastic changes to how I approach my life IRL and online.

IRL, the changes were smaller- I started tracking my weight and alcohol consumption, meditating regularly, seeing a therapist, and opted into a reduced work schedule. Online, however, my changes were more instant and pronounced.

I muted every journalist I followed, as well as every news handle. I muted a choir of voices that had ceased relevancy to me months ago, but I had kept around for fear of missing out. Even websites I paid a subscription to, like Defector, got pushed aside, the raw vein of anger required for accessing that media necessitating an immediate disconnect. I stopped posting personal updates to facebook and twitter, instead opening a Tumblr where I could “rough-draft” my personal thoughts.

I made new rules for myself online-

No posting in anger.

No attacking something other people enjoy.

Post only what brings you or others joy.

Leave criticism, even of things you enjoy, untouched, because the only ideas you own are your own, and no one is calling you defend something you don’t own. What you love will always be valid, regardless of what someone else posts.

Keep your personal updates in a totally optional forum where those who care can opt in, and those who don’t or who have no capacity for it can opt out.

Similarly, I drew up a simple mantra of priorities for IRL that I put on a post-it and placed under my monitor. It reads as such-

Keep healthy.

Keep growing in what brings you joy.

Keep employed.

Keep invested in your personal circle.

Any other positive development is a bonus.

I do not need to be big enough to house every voice, and I have the right to decide my own holding capacity.

“The scent of flowers -sandalwood, jasmine, and rosebay- doesn’t go against the wind. But the scent of forgiveness does travel against the wind; It spreads in all directions.”

All these bullet-points sound high and mighty. Anyone who knows me personally is likely scrambling to pick their eyes up off the floor, presumably after having them roll out the back of their heads.

Truth is, I fail at these points early and often. And lately, I’ve been failing hard, especially this past week, where I’ve felt my own personal anger swell at the continued silence of my social channels.

When channels weren’t quiet, they were political, contentious, and utterly consumed with demanding. Conversations carried an underlying accusation- why aren’t you as angry as I am? Do you see all this shit? I need you to be on my level, no excuses!

The brief, sporadic conversations left me feeling hurt, exhausted, and reproached. As distance and silence continued to grow, I felt a deeper lacking- as though I had failed some test, failed to be the support others needed, failed to echo the correct sentiment. It felt like being back in church, where I was always at arms length for failing to measure up to an ideology or shout loud enough to measure up to the brightest voices in the chorus.

It left me feeling very alone. And, yes, angry.

“Few are the people who reach the other shore. Many are the people who run about on this shore.”

My therapist tells me I have projection issues that source from religious trauma. Because I’ve lived the majority of my life in fear of an angry god, judgmental parents and deeply abusive teachers and bosses, I tend to assume the worst of unspoken intent.

This is a way I keep myself safe. I am secretive. I rarely speak my true mind. And the people I let in are closely vetted and kept to a high standard. The failure is that I don’t communicate this standard, and presume betrayal when often there is none. I’m working on changing this, but it’s tough to undo 30 years of programming in just a few years.

A few places I especially feel pressure, and how I react to it-

When I spend time developing a hobby or a skill, and share that in a chat channel, only to have it ignored or waved off, I take that personally.

When I send out an invite to play video games or spend time together, online or IRL, only be receive zero replies, I assume it’s intentional.

When I send out private DM’s, heartfelt attempts to share an interest and extend empathy, and don’t receive a reply, I immediately take the message to heart that I must not be that important.

Similarly, when I don’t hear from someone for days, or in some cases, weeks or months, after having established a strong, positive and regular rapport, I mourn that as rejection. There are people I’ve never met save for the online world, and I mourn our ceased conversations as much as I would a neighbor I’d see every day in my own building.

When no one tunes in to a stream or reads a blog I’ve written, or, hell, even when my twitter is getting fewer likes than normal, I feel that, acutely.

And yes, all of what I just listed is just...witheringly stupid and banal and completely self-centered.

But that’s what I feel.

This is where I encounter the moments of absence that fuel the anger I’ve been warring with the past few months. When I meditate, lift heavy weights, go on long runs, rant in therapy or write long-ass-posts like this, in an attempt to healthily dispel this anger- these are some of the places it sources from. These are the areas I feel pressure. And that’s valid and deserving of a voice.

Even at this very moment, I’m struggling against the urge to write a barb about how at this point in the post, I could share specific names and anecdotes and it wouldn’t matter because no one really reads this shit. Which. I guess I did just write that. So. Oh well. (it wouldn’t be true, mind you, there are people who do read this, so, thanks for that <3)

“Just as from a heap of flowers many garlands can be made, so, you, with your mortal life, should do many skillful things.”

Frankly, I don’t like my therapist all that much. She doesn’t take notes, often forgets what we discussed the week before, and is likely a mask truther. But she’s cheap, doesn’t try to make me take medication, and her hands-off approach has forced me to take more responsibility for our week to week conversations.

This past week, I came into our session knowing exactly what I needed to talk about.

“I’m feeling angry and resentful of the people close to me, because I don’t hear from them or spend time with them as often, and when I do, it seems like they’re always consumed by negative feelings and reject me if I don’t join them on their level. I’m taking their absence personally, as proof that I’ve failed them, or don’t have what they need. Proof that I’m not good enough.”

My therapist responds with a question- “What would you say to them, if they were here right now, and you could say anything you wanted?”

I was at a loss.

I’m not someone who enjoys confrontation. Again, it’s learned self-preservation from years of religious trauma induced by both family and institution. I’ll do anything to make it to another day without more damage. Like the protagonist of Catch 22, my motto is to live forever or die in the attempt.

I stammer for a few moments and manage to choke out a reply-

“I’d say that I’m still here, and that I care about them, and that I wish we could all be less sad and angry. I’d say that I empathize with them, that I feel horrible for them that the world we live in necessitates their righteous anger. I’d tell them I’m sorry for not being able to join them on their level, ‘cuz of my own personal physical and emotional health concerns, but that I support them and love them, even if they feel like my actions and energy don’t match that. And I’d say that even if it isn’t their intent, that their absence reads to me like I’ve failed them, and that hurts a great deal. But I’m trying to work through that. I’m trying really, really hard. But I miss you all. I don’t want to go another week feeling like anonymous people on the internet are more supportive and understanding of me than people I’ve know for almost 15 years.”

My therapist nods. “Do you think that would reach them?”

I don’t have an answer. Truth is, I can’t imagine blurting that out in public without sounding like a an emotionally volatile trainwreck that everyone would want to immediately avoid.

But I know in my guts that it has to find its way out somewhere. So Sunday morning, I go out, grab some coffee, sit down at my computer, and I start to write. Type, type, type, delete the last 15 minutes of ranting, type some more, and here we are.

My exhaled tension and frustration in page form.

“Hey friend, lately I’ve been feeling down. Nobody sees my efforts, what I’m trying to do. People judge me every time when I’m not around, but never text me when I’m feeling like I do. ”

In the future, I exhale, the final mantra of my meditation recording still echoing in my brain in same-step with the beat of a lo-fi trap song that immediately starts with the end of my meditation playlist.

My last tumblr probably wasn’t the model of restraint. A sage wouldn’t write all that. A wise person wouldn’t toss those kind of scents out expecting them to go against the wind.

But it was valid and important to share.

I toss in quotes from my mantra recordings and from the Dhammapada. I imagine friends reading the quotes and groaning, the heady content totally disconnecting with the chaotic writer they know IRL.

I leave it in. The inhale, exhale cadence is true to my day to day experience, my striving, my insular battle against depression and anger. Effort that I didn’t used to bother with, now deployed in a full-scale war that others rarely glimpse.

Don’t judge me against the wise quotations. Just know I’m doing my best by them, and even if I fail, I gotta hope the effort isn’t wasted.

I toss in the lyrics of a lo-fi trap song at the end of the post, and an english cover of a sad anime song for good measure. They aren’t eloquent words, but they’re true to what I feel. They’re honest. And maybe more in step with the person people know me as IRL.

But I couldn’t go on just saying nothing. I couldn’t keep holding all this in from the universe. Even if no one asked for my explanation, for my apology, for my disclosure, I still had to get it out somewhere.

SO, hey, tumblr.

“I refuse to weave you such a beautiful lie. I would rather feel the pain to be empty inside. How could be so blind as to ignore such a cry? I would rather watch that cold dream where I died.”

I doubt this post will be widely read. I doubt my inner circles will suddenly spring back to life or that my schedule will suddenly be chock full of busy chat notifications or invitations to play video games. I don’t think things will ever be the same, especially as we careen closer and closer to November. And I’ve gotta work through this, accept that this isn’t necessarily a me issue. It’s an us issue.

This change is necessary. This silence won’t be forever. These feelings of lacking and failure are my own, and don’t account for the emotional complexities that others within my circles are no doubt trudging through. Maybe someday I’ll be privy to that. But even if I’m not, I still have to learn to process my own projection issues and continue to build an emotional foundation that can stand on its own, even in the face of perceived rejection.

Three nights ago I’m sitting in a booth at my favorite sushi restaurant with one of my closest friends. Each of us is nursing a glass of sake as we wait for our food. Our once easy cadence is notably strained, but we’re still here, in thanks to persistence and patience and repeated invitations to go out together.

“I’m sorry for disappearing for a while,” she says, “-some wild shit has been happening lately, and I don’t wanna talk about it. But it wasn’t you, it was me.”

Hearing that, a reservoir’s worth of assumptions and misgivings drains. Just hearing the acknowledgment is all it takes.

“Hey, it’s all good, we’re here now, ya know? If nothing else, I’m always good for playing the distraction.” I lift my sake glass. Our glasses clink, we each take a pull.

“And I always will be.” Smiles. A silent acknowledgement of something stupidly simple. Nothing so dramatic as my therapy monologue is needed in that moment.

To the friends who read this to the end, just want to say, same offer, same glass of invitation goes to you as well. When you’re ready to come in from the shit, I’ll be here.

In the meantime, I’m gonna keep focusing on forgiveness. I’m gonna keep disconnecting from sources of anger. And I’m gonna keep openly processing. These are things I need to do. so when the day comes and you’re ready to welcome me back, I’m worthy of the moment.

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yakumtsaki · 7 years

Photo

Take your hands off me, I don't belong to you, you see, and take a look at my face for the last time, I never knew you, you never knew me, say hello.. ♪

WAVE GOODBYE.

WHADDUP PPL. Much like Ronroneo, we’re back from the dead and ready for a whole new generation of Union fuckery. We’re also officially.. drumroll.. MIDDLE CLASS. Our shiny new house is based on this one by frottana-sims, which I downloaded but dumbassly forgot to install, and since loading the game takes a hot half-hour I opted for this poor recreation instead. We start the extreme home makeover with an incredible budget of..

...Yea, I see the value of getting 6 pets to the top of their careers now. Included in this insane sum is the 20k+ that Wyatt and Jojo brought with them moving in, and at first I’m worried that we’re way too rich for only generation 2. Well, careful what you wish for, cause here’s our post-remodeling budget:

LMAO. It’s as if not a day has passed since Vic started this legacy with a dream in her heart and crap to her name. Let’s check out the new digs!

Everything was purple.. his pills.. his hands.. his foyer.

As eagle-eyed readers may observe, both the hall and the living room were designed with nothing else in mind but whether they matched our cat paintings. Per legacy rules I use as little cc as possible, which isn’t that hard since I feel this bizarre, angular and hugely impractical couch really encapsulates Jojo’s essence. Like if he was a servant in Beauty and the Beast this would be his furniture form.

Apparently the only things I deemed important enough to capture were the cat portraits, so it looks like my Komeization is finally complete! Here’s some floorplan shots tho so you don’t get disoriented in our labyrinth-like mansion. Please note our amazing pink-blue-purple kitchen! Barbie’s Dreamhouse who??

And here’s the second floor, which also illustrates the exact point I ran out of money. Honestly looking back I don’t understand how the fuck this place cost 70k?? Like nothing is particularly expensive except the amazing vintage batmobile which was around 30-40k and some of the paintings? But I guess all the small things add up in the end + I’m super bad with money..

..and I’m not the only one. Jojo GET A FUCKING GRIP and A JOB. Literally no comment @ your cat wants, you inherited the jaw, wasn’t that enough??? ANYWAY. I know the question on everyone’s mind is how is Wyatt going to fit in with the Unions.. and all I have to say about that..

..is LOL. Truly the perfect career for when your mother-in-law is a criminal mastermind and your husband is a serial killer! I mean the jokes practically write themselves. At least he doesn’t want 10 kids or any shit like that, cause I’ve seen hell and it was the result of mixing Jojo/Wyatt genes in cas.

On top of gifting us with his future-probably-fug children, Wyatt also gives us the gift of our first ever kitchen fire when he decides to make dinner with 1 cooking point. His generosity really knows no bounds.

It’s all fun and games now but Wyatt deadass almost died in the inferno and was about to take poor, stupid Komei with him, who of course ran to the fire even though he was in the yard. Meanwhile Victoria was safely watching tv and didn’t move while Jojo..

..was doing this in the next room. Two types of sims I guess!

-So Wyatt, you’ve been here for almost an hour now, burned down our kitchen and I still don’t see any grandchildren. I thought you were a family sim!

-Haha oh mom, you’re hilarious! Ignore her, Wyatt, let’s enjoy your delicious pasta.. It was definitely worth almost dying for.

-Your mama is right, mon cheri, not only do you have an obligatión to your famille but I rolled the want to have a bébé the second we graduated!

-Well it’s still gonna be there when we aren’t broke, Wyatt, god!

-But.. bébés, mon cheri! Tons of bébés I can have but never interact with, in typical famille sim fashión!

-UGH thanks a lot for opening this gate, mom. If only you had found your love of children when I was living on cat food.

-Well it’s different when they are your children, everyone knows that.

-THAT’S NOT WHY PEOPLE SAY THAT MOM

-Honestly, Jojό, I’m prouder of taking down your répugnant suitόrs than I am of graduating with honors!

-Aww Wyatt <3

-And if I have to souffrir through a childless existence to be with mon amour, so be it (:

-Aw- wait what?!

-Really, c’est bien, Jojό, marriage is all about compromise, nό? I mean, not that I would know since we’re not even married yet!

-Wyatt we’ve been here for 3 hours.

-My point précisément.. C’est bien though!

-Can’t believe I’m saying this but I really regret murdering Ti-Ning.

That makes two of us, Jo. Honestly even Francis would be better than this. Family sim spouse??? Tf was I thinking.

Ah, some things never change <3 It’s a new day and someone very special passes by our lot..

UGH NO not you asshole, once again delivering bills at the worst possible time.

-Miss me bitch?? Lolol

ONE OF THESE DAYS DAGMAR. ONE OF THESE DAYS ISTG

No, it’s mismatched beard townie, whose regular outfit is simply iconic, and he’s waving at me! What a sweetheart! TAKE SOME NOTES DAGMAR YOU FROZEN-FACED FREAK

-Umm he’s actually waving at me, moron.

-WRONG, he’s waving at me!

Ok it literally doesn’t matter who he’s waving at.

-Well c’est moi.

OK WHATEVER WYATT GOD. Just go off to work in a position you’re criminally unqualified for and try not to die ok??

-Why would I mourir?

Hm let’s see, maybe because you’re a ‘SWAT Team Leader’ straight out of college with a shocking lack of skill points?? Jfc college degrees in this game are so fucking op it’s legit making me resentful of my sims.

In other news, major dicks Sophie and Victor have started constantly beating each other up and the only thing surprising about this development is that it took this long. Honestly these fights are peak #TeamNoOne. Please note Alegra who continues to give 0 fucks @ the bloodshed. What a gal <3

Burning with religious fervor, fundamentalist nutjob Sophie emerges victorious!

-I WALK WITH GOD BITCH

Tears. Literal tears. Victor is the most unbelievable creature I have ever played.

-The rampant violence in this house is a violation of human rights! I AM OUTTA HERE

Literally still cannot believe this happened, like the sheer NERVE is killing me. Victor has started every fight he’s ever been in for an astounding total of 40-50 fights, and as you all know he almost always wins. Like this one was what? The fourth one he lost?? AND YET HE RUNS AWAY LIKE HE’S THE VICTIM I HATE/LOVE HIM SO MUCH

Meanwhile this happens which, of course. Leave it to me to finally get a chance card right for the only sim who doesn’t even deserve the job he currently has.

..Police Chief Wyatt reporting for duty! And crime increased 80% overnight.

In actual good and not lawsuit-waiting-to happen news, Wyatt brought Amanda, Vic’s only friend/lesbian crush with him! Amanda has the distinct honor of being literally the only non-Union non-Jojo person Vic has ever genuinely liked and hasn’t had an affair with. YET THAT IS.

Man, these are some fat fucking flies. I’m talking 10 plagues of Egypt teas.

-I KNOW, where the fuck is Komei, what are we paying him for?

-I’m over here honey, talking to my least favorite son for the second time in my life, since apparently he’s sticking around.

-Yes, thanks for requesting a recount of the heir vote, dad. I will remember it when I decide where to scatter your ashes.

-I TOLD YOU I WANT THEM MIXED WITH THE CAT LITTER

Ugh Komei, please stop trying to bond with your son and do something productive instead-

-like finally convincing Neo to bang Sophie. She has refused 3 TIMES because there’s a rule I have to earn kittens by suffering. I mean Alegra refusing to procreate with Victor made sense, it was Victor, wtf is Sophie’s excuse? Waiting for marriage?

ABOUT TIME

YAS. CAT GEN 3 ON THE WAY. Human gen 3 will have to wait till I’m in the mood to deal with screaming infants aka it might take a while.

The science career FINALLY SHOWS UP after 5 fucking days, jfc. Love how Wyatt’s dumb ass started as a swat team LEADER but Jojo who has half the skills maxed starts as a science teacher. Also love the idea of Jojo as a teacher in general, I mean just imagine having him teach you science in high school. I would literally drop out.

Jojo returns from work, brings this rando with him and doesn’t get promoted. We can’t all be Wyatt I guess! We’re not completely broke anymore tho so..

It is time.

Gunther, Melody and Max Flexor on one side..

Craig, Brit Brit, Ti-Ning and Daniel on the other. What a bunch of assholes, Craig obviously excluded. Remember him? I invited him because he and Jojo are still semi-friends thinking he wouldn’t show up and yet here he is! What a good guy.

-It’s at moments like this, watching your high school boyfriend get married.. that you really get to thinking..

Awww.

-..there but for the grace of god go I.

Less awww. You’re not wrong tho, definitely dodged a sociopathic bullet..

..not everyone is that lucky. WE GET IT WYATT YOU’RE CRAZY AND IN LOVE

-Mon bien adoré, I vow to aimer and honόr you and not cheat on you again or at least be more discrete about it <3

-And I vow not to kill you and feed you to the cats for as long as we both shall live <3

Ah, true love, you guys.

Too bad half our guests are inside dancing-

-OR HAVING COMPLETELY INAPPROPRIATE AND UNTIMELY THOUGHTS. TI-NING SERIOUSLY GO TO HELL. I WAS ROOTING FOR YOU WE WERE ALL ROOTING FOR YOU HOW DARE YOU

Well at least Vic is excited which is more than I can say for Gunther who is literally LOOKING THE OTHER WAY.

Time to cut the cake with the sky as our only witness, since everyone has taken a plate from the buffet and fucked off inside. Seriously WORST GUESTS EVER

Not one to be outdone by his guests’ questionable behavior, Wyatt takes the time to remind us who he really is.

-And n'est-ce pas forget it!

Despite all the obvious problems, like one of the grooms literally going to sleep, our party score is ‘good time’ which is a truly rare and exciting occurrence. With less than a minute left I’m feeling pretty confident that nothing can ruin this wedding!

Weirdly no one has touched the champagne even though sims in general are obsessed with it?? My best guess is everyone is at a loss for words at having to toast this union and who can blame them tbh. Thankfully Daniel steps up and I find it super sweet because I’ve forgotten that he and Wyatt are mortal enemies and it’s only by chance they haven’t beaten each other up on this instance like they have countless times before.

-Let’s all raise a glass to my beloved brother, Jojo, who generously woke up to attend his own wedding reception! Just one of many examples of his fine, giving character. Too bad he’s committing his life to a complete waste of space adulterous loser like Wyatt, who I’m not even convinced is really french, since his ability to speak and understand english fluctuates according to convenience. Man, I promised myself I wouldn’t cry, but this choice in spouse is just too tragic. Oh well! To Jojo!

NOICE, still a good time. SO CLOSE

AND YET SO FAR. Goddammit do you two mind killing each other on your own time and not literally 10 seconds before our wedding ends??

-DIE WHORE, THIS WILL TEACH YOU TO STEAL MY MAN

-THAT’S MY LINE SLUTBAG

-HA! ZUMBA, BITCH

-Wow, so glad I woke up for this, really got my bloodlust going!

Indeed a roaring success if there ever was one. I mean how can this night possibly get any better?

.............of course.

Oh nice, I remembered to install an alarm for once! I’m also desperately trying to wake up Wyatt thinking that he’s fucking CHIEF OF POLICE so he might prove useful in this situation..

..especially since we get this cop of a completely untrustworthy Bieber hairstyle. Talk about striking fear in the heart.

Sadly it turns out that Wyatt could not give less of a shit that we’re getting robbed and picks this moment to head for wedding buffet leftovers-

-while Bieber cop prevails! This robber is awesomely named Russ Bear btw and I wish that was my name, sounds like a slavic medieval folkore hero. But I digress. Please prepare yourselves because our first robbery is about to take a dark turn.

-Ehh, you get at a certain level on la force, you just become desensitized to la criminalité..

-Oh don’t worry Wyatt, I totally understand.. I mean I’ve robbed so many houses in my time, I hardly blink anymore..

-So it looks like you and I are not so different after all.. ;)

.............

.....................

............................why. why has the universe chosen me for the greatest suffering the world has ever known. i try and i try but incestuous relationships just keep sprawling like mythical strangler vines. i bet this wouldn’t happen to someone named Russ Bear. fml

#ts2 #gen 2

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girlwsoftsound · 7 years

Text

A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes || George Daniel Oneshot

Word Count: 6,079 Warnings: The usual borderline abusive behavior & drama that lies within Cinderella. Summary: A cheesy, drama filled Cinderella Story fic centered around the one and only George Daniel. Author’s Note: Got this prompt a while back asking for a Cinderella Story fic for one of the boys, and I decided to go all out on it (as you can see by the word count). Also, it was fitting because after writing this, I hit 100 followers, which is honestly a dream come true. So, this is my thank you to all who read my stories and send me great prompts like this. Love you all. Please feel free to send more requests here! Enjoy!

“George, if you do not get your butt down here, I’m going to make you do overtime at the shop!”

Needless to say, George Daniel’s home life was hell. Or rather, what he had to call ‘home’. When he was young, merely able to remember anything, George lost a lot of his family to a terrible accident. The only survivors were him, his uncle, and his grandmother. Seeing as he was still young, the courts put George with his uncle, whom they assumed would be the best choice to take care of him given his younger age and, save for the loss of his wife, relatively stable household. George had wanted to go with his grandmother, as she reminded him of his mother, was always more tender to him, and was still relatively young, but the courts did not care. Off he went to live in the countryside with Uncle Lou to start a new life.

For a while, that life was not hard nor a burden on George. Lou put him into a relatively well-to-do school and gave him basically free-roam on his property. George learned how to take care of what animals he owned, how to drive a tractor, and his favorite new skill, how to play the drums. Lou was not always a fun man, but he loved music. Drumming in no time became George’s favorite pastime. He believed he would finally settle in with his new ‘family’ once he grew to play well enough that Lou could appreciate it and give him songs to learn. That was, until Lou met Willa.

Willa seemed harmless at first. George first saw her when he was eleven. She had reddish-brown hair and dark brown eyes, and her voice was rather low for a woman, but Lou did not seem to mind. She was kind to George then. He got gifts from her occasionally, and she took him to the park to meet friends when he needed a ride. But then, Lou decided to propose to Willa, and Willa changed. Willa no longer was the kind lady who showed up with gifts and kindness. She transformed into a strict mother who cared about her own two sons more than George and changed Lou overnight. One night, George fell asleep thinking his life was not all that bad. The next morning, he woke up in his own personal brand of hell.

Willa made George work. Not like, work around the estate work. That work George was happy and familiar with doing. No, this work was mental. Refusing to pay for George’s school anymore with Lou’s money -yes, Lou no longer had a say in his financial affairs, or was too in love to care- George had to work to pay his way. Lou at her suggestion bought with the money meant to be spent on George’s education a shop, a diner along the edge of the city, and George was put to work on it immediately. He started out as a busboy, then cook, and then eventually a waiter. He hated it. God, did he hate it. If the rude people who came to the shop weren’t death themselves, Willa’s constant nagging of his performance and Lou’s bitching any time George did not pick up an overtime shift surely encapsulated it.

It hardly helped that the twin boys he was forced to share a home with, or step-creatures as he lovingly dubbed them, would go to the shop often simply to make his job harder. They would make ridiculous orders, and frequently complain just to mess with him. Being the kids of Willa, George had to make sure that all was well with them at any cost or else it’d be his head on the platter he served with. It essentially was hell. George wondered what being he pissed off to earn their presence in his life.

Working so hard did not offer George any free time, especially with school in the mix. It caused him to hardly have any friends, and those he did were merely friends in the sense that they’d partner with him in projects or speak to him at lunch. He also found himself hardly any time to drum. He would join the band at school and get at least a bit of practice there, but band was an after school activity, and he had to be at the shop by four every day. It would never work. George was forced away from it, and honestly anything remotely fun. Fun went to the creatures, and their mother’s money she stored only for their schooling and their dreams. They got to be on the basketball team, and baseball team, and golf team, and whatever the hell team they wished, along with any club they had time for. George loathed the fun they had. If he could have one slimmer of it, or even the girls they had fawning over them, he was sure life would be more manageable.

That was why, when it was mentioned to their school that there would be a dance, George all but sprinted to Lou and Willa to beg them to go. He just wanted one night, one chance to be a normal teenager without them getting in the way, or busting his head about work, or favoriting the twins over him. He stumbled upon the two ‘parents’ outside by the animals. They were fawning over Willa’s horse, a big ol’ white thing named ‘Ace of Spades’ with long white hair and a truly massive body. Willa always put the poor lad into competitions, but much like George, he often liked it best when he was able to roam free. George loved the moments he could take care of the beauty. He hated seeing him put up with Willa though. George would have to bear it to speak to her.

“Lou, Willa,” he said, bounding up to the two as Willa brushed Ace’s hair, “I have something to ask you.”

“Shouldn’t you be working?” Willa asked, eyeing the boy up and down. George had to fight himself to not bark back at her the snide comment swimming around in his mind for her.

“I’m on my way to, but before that, this is real important-”

“More important than your job?” Lou barked a laugh. “Did you get knocked in the head? Nothing should be more important.”

“Will you please just listen to m-”

Before George can finish his sentence, the familiar loud laughter and footsteps of the creatures approached. Drew, the older one by five minutes, and Troy stumbled up, nearly pushing George aside in the process. George brushed himself off as they turned to Willa.

“Can we have some cash?”

It disgusted George how Willa almost dropped Ace’s brush to pull out her wallet. “What for, loves?”

“There’s the Spring dance this weekend,” Troy announced, his voice high and mighty. “We have to look sharp to impress the ladies.”

“They won’t be able to resist,” Drew said with a laugh. “The theme is rock n’ roll, for Christ’s sake. It’s all about shagging.”

“And the Spring Queen gets to choose the fittest lad to be her king,” said Troy, winking at Drew. “Look fit, get the girl.”

Pulling a wad of cash out of her wallet, Willa tossed it to Drew. “Go for it.”

George fought back the bile that rose in his throat. “Can I have some?”

Willa scoffed. “You say that like you’re even allowed to go.”

“But I’ve been working overtime every day this week! And I’ve made double in tips than I did last month!”

“You do not have a choice in this,” Willa snapped. George looked over to Lou, pleading.

“Lou, c’mon, that’s hardly fair-”

“You listen to your mother.”

“She’s not my mum!”

“She’s the best you’ve got,” he growled, “so shut up and listen to her.”

“No, I’ve got my grandmother,” George yelled back, “and I would be with her not wasting away my life here being treated like shit if it weren’t for you!”

Drew chuckled. “Shut up mate, no one cares about you enough for you to even be welcomed at the dance.”

“Yeah,” Troy nodded, “you’d be lucky to even get looked at by another human.”

“Nice comeback, ya’ brat.”

“George!”

“What else are you gonna’ do to me?” George yelled, throwing his arms up in defeat. “What could you possibly take away from me that you already haven’t, huh? Is five years of life not good enough for you? Are all the years I’m going to have to fight to make up for what hell you’ve put me through not enough? Oh, I’m sorry I inconvenienced you enough that that doesn’t make up for what I did. And what have I done, exactly? Exist? Not die along with the rest of our family, Lou?”

Lou’s eyes narrowed. “Shut up, George.”

“Like you give a shit about them,” he said, eyes cold. “You used to, back before Willa came here and decided brainwashing you to let the twins here eat out of your ass was how she was going to dictate. Back before I had to fight to have an education, or passions, or a life. Honestly at this point, Lou? I’d prefer to have any of the people who died back over you. They would’ve at least cared about me enough to not let snakes like Willa come into our lives.”

The smack coming from Willa only enthralled George more. Laughing, he turned to the two boys who sat there, wide-eyed and judging. “Did that upset you, boys? Did it upset you to know the world doesn’t revolve around you? Does it upset you more to know that girls talk about how utterly boring you are behind your backs? How you aren’t really a good lay, but a cheap lay that they can always count on to be around because you’re just that easy?”

The punch George got to his jaw from Troy knocked him back a bit, but still did not stop him. “You’re real lucky she has me poor, Lou,” he growled with a wicked, now slightly bloody smile. “I have to still live off of your shitty waiter job to stay in school. Otherwise, I’d clue you in a bit more on what I’ve picked up over the years about you and your shitty life you’ve created for me, and then go right up to CPS and get your ass imprisoned. Willa, too. You guys would be lovely together in the pen. But alas, I can’t. I’m locked into my job, and your bullshit, and while these guys go impregnate a few poor souls, I’ll be waiting empty tables and just building up more fodder for how utterly shit you all are to make my future case. Sorry if that angers you,” he said, mockingly cold as he did a small curtsy for the group. “Sleep well.”

George didn’t even look back and face the string of hateful words Willa had set up for him as he headed back to his room. He knew he would face hell for it later. Hell, the dance was as far of a fetch then as him winning the lottery. But, he was glad he said it. He was glad that, after five years of hell, he finally got to let Lou, the man in charge of protecting his family’s legacy, just how hard he had screwed up. The flash of fear in his eyes was all George needed. It made the possible tears and probable anger he would face the night of the dance all worth it.

~~~~~~

George felt no surprise the night of the dance with how he was set up. Door locked and barricaded, he had only a small thing of food and his cell phone to keep him company in his room for the entirety of the night. He didn’t get the pleasure of working the night, because ‘why should we give you money that could benefit you as punishment’. He simply got to watch the twins leave the house happily with some girls George knew wouldn’t be theirs by the end of the night, and sit in self pity all alone. It pissed George off. Then again, it forced Lou to have to spend the night alone with Willa as she obsessed over making sure he didn’t try to escape, so was he the true loser in this situation? Opening his phone, George chuckled. Poor bastard.

Something on George’s phone stopped the boy from playing Tetris, the only game the shitty old thing provided. It was a text from an unknown number. Opening the text, he read it in a whisper out loud.

“George, it’s Sandra, your grandmother. I got an email from a lad saying I could and should contact you on this number and that it was urgent. Is everything alright, love? I’ve been so worried about you.”

George could barely see straight. Who the hell texted his grandmother? How in the world was she able to contact him for the first time in five whole years? Fumbling, he hurried to type out a reply.

“Nan, I thought I’d never hear from you again. Lou’s new wife has me living in pure hell here. I’m currently locked up in my room because of her. Lou’s lost his mind. I miss you.”

Her reply a few minutes later hurt George to read.

“I told them he wasn’t stable enough to care for you. I’m so, so sorry George. I’m so sorry I didn’t fight harder for you. If I could, I would come there for you in a heartbeat.”

George was about to type out an equally as heartfelt reply when suddenly, he got an idea. He typed furiously.

“Nan, if I send you the address of the flat here, are you able to send me a cab? They’re currently keeping me from a dance, but I think if I can go, I can set something up that might get me to you. Okay?”

As soon as her yes came back as a reply, George was up and off of his bed. Reaching into his closet, he took out one of his old band t-shirts, a leather jacket he had saved up for the previous year, and a pair of roughed up jeans. He snatched a small bit of cash he had been saving up after he got dressed and opened up the window. He was on the second floor, but George was also tall. He tossed the belongings he needed down to the ground, and after carefully positioning himself hanging from the windowsill, he dropped. He made it to the earth without an issue. Snatching up his stuff, he ran as fast as he could towards the long wooded drive that led to their home. He waited until the trees lining the drive masked his location from the house, and sat there in the dimming night until the cab arrived. He got in, and without looking back, left the property. Lou and Willa could beat him up later for this. Tonight, he had plans.

~~~~~~

George arrived to his school hearing the loud sound of rock n’ roll blaring from its gym. He could pick out the song any day - Whole Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin. Sure, it was an odd dance choice, but he didn’t complain. He hardly could. He tried to play the song multiple times when he still could as a kid. Sauntering into the gym, George noticed the dance was in full swing. Every boy was dressed in suits, and every girl had some sparkling dress. He stuck out like an odd ball. Some theme.

Not knowing anyone, and hardly knowing how to properly dance, he decided to grab a bit of punch and find himself a place to sit. He made his way over to the table with punch. His hand reached forward to grab the ladle for the punch, but accidentally found itself bumping into a much smaller hand across from him.

“Sorry love-”

“It was my fault, I-”

Both mouths fell silent. Across from George stood you, perhaps the most beautiful girl he had ever set his eyes on. You had on a midnight blue dress, not flashy but certainly eye catching. Your hair was braided, and in it tucked away was a gorgeous blue flower that matched the dress perfectly. George felt unworthy in your mere presence. He had no clue of it, but you felt the same about him as well.

“I-I’m {Y/N},” you said once you could catch your breath, holding out your hand to him. George carefully took your hand and brought it up to his mouth, giving it a small kiss. Upon seeing you blush from it, he smiled.

“I’m George. I-I hope I’m not too forward in saying this, but you look awfully beautiful. Truly.”

You blushed further, averting your gaze down to the punch. “Thank you, George.”

His name sounded wonderful on your lips. George felt his heart skip a beat. “I-I don’t suppose you came here alone, did you?”

You shook your head. “No, I came here with Finn McGill. I’m not sure if you know him, he’s on the golf team.”

A chill went down George’s spine. If he was on the golf team, he would know the creatures all too well. The thought of them even having a mere connection to someone as beautiful as you made his stomach churn. You gently placed a hand on his shoulder, causing him to look back over to you.

“He’s off dancing with some other girl, though. I only went with him because it saves face.”

George bit his lip. “Why do you need to save face? You look stunning, you’re sweet.”

“I also don’t tend to do what most girls trying to get Spring Queen do and talk only to mainstream, ‘popular’ kids,” you mentioned, eyeing him up and down. George blushed. He didn’t know whether or not to be embarrassed or blessed by your words. “Want to go sit and talk somewhere? I’m sure Finn will be hooked on that other girl for a while. She looked like she was dancing on him real good.”

George was amused. He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you to go back and deal with whatever mess you had waiting you back at the dance floor with Finn, even with his nerves through the roof at having to actually talk to someone else, especially someone as beautiful as you. He had to give you a chance. Nodding, he waited until you both got punch before following you over to a small table just off the dance floor. After making sure to hold out your chair, the two of you dove into a pleasant conversation. You discussed everything from your favorite books to your favorite foods and favorite types of music. George of course went on a rant about the songs being played at the dance, telling you far more than you thought one person could know about them, though you did not mind. You countered by telling him right back about your favorites. It all seemed to be following swimmingly when, out of nowhere, George heard a familiar set of laughter come up behind him. He cannot move away quick enough to avoid Drew and Troy, sauntering up with their plastic dates by their sides and meddlesome smiles. You looked to them curiously, but George met them with a death glare.

“What are you doing here Georgie,” Drew asked, smirking and ruffling up his hair to George’s dislike, “I thought you weren’t allowed to go tonight?”

“Mom’s going to kill you when you get back,” Troy said, shaking his head. “You watch, she’s going to never let you see the light of day.”

“George,” you asked, gently placing your hand over his that was about to break the side of the table, “who are these guys?”

“Meet Drew and Troy,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “The people I have the misfortune of living with.”

“It’s not our fault your family died and forced you to live with us,” Drew spat. George felt the color wash out of his skin. Yours did the same, though instead of the empty feeling that overwhelmed George, you felt a fit of anger rush in to take the color’s place.

“How about you shut your mouth, you prick?”

Drew raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me? Don’t you have someone’s dick to go suck so you can win Queen?”

George could not even pause to process him doing it. All he knew was that one minute, he felt more rage than he had ever felt before, and the next, Drew was on the ground with a broken nose. You stood up at George’s side and watched slightly horrified as Drew wailed on the ground, his brother trying to stop the blood his nose began to gush. Though you were confused as to why George felt so angrily about his brothers, you knew he needed to get away. Grabbing his arm, you quickly rushed him out of the gym. He followed you out down one of the long hallways. You stopped him at the end of the second one you passed. He rested himself against a locker.

“What was that?”

“You did not deserve to be talked to that way,” George muttered, folding his arms. “He had to be taught that.”

“No- George, believe me, I’m grateful you did that, but that’s not what I’m talking about.” You sighed, bringing his face up with your finger so he looked at you. “What’s going on with them? Why weren’t you allowed to come here?”

George’s face fell even darker. “Their mother ruined what shitty life I had after my family died. I got put with my uncle and he remarried this lady and she took whatever I had left and spoiled those two brats. It’s been that way for five years, {Y/N}. You’ve probably never seen me because I’m lucky I can even make it to school. I pay my way here.”

Your eyes widened. “You pay it all?”

“She cut me off the moment she walked in with his ring,” George replied. “I blew up at them for it when the dance was announced earlier this week, and since they insist on ignoring how bad they are, they essentially made me a prisoner in my own house for tonight. I snuck out, though. That’s why those idiots were shocked to see me.”

“George, that’s-”

“Horrible?” he asked, kicking at the locker behind him with the back of his shoe. “Terrible? Borderline abusive? Yeah, believe me, I know.”

“You have to tell someone.”

“I plan on doing so tonight,” he told you. “After the dance. I’m going straight to the authorities and letting them know what they’ve done. My Nan lives not too far away, and she’s lovely and has money and a good house to care for me. The moment they find out what my uncle’s done, I’m going straight to her, and he’s going straight to jail.”

You did not know what to say. Here, you spoke to George because he looked different and bumped into you and looked at you as if you were truly beautiful, not just another good shag option. Yet, he was so much more. He was pained, mistreated, powerful, but also so in need of love and a second chance. A new start. You had no idea what to say, but you knew what to do. Making sure to catch his eye, you carefully leaned him back against the lockers behind him and kissed him.

George felt all his anger melt away. As soft and gorgeous as you looked, you kissed ten times better. Sure, he hardly knew what to do with this being his first kiss, but the feelings he felt were too strong to get all nervous about it. He simply let his emotions, let you, take the lead, and allowed instinct to guide him. You had not kissed many boys in your past, but knowing them all, you could say with confidence that George’s instinct led him well. You saw George smile immediately after breaking the kiss. In that moment, you knew he needed to be loved more. You knew he needed his fairytale happy ending. Oh, how you hoped he’d get it.

A loud boom of the gym door closing made you both jump. The soft patter of heels made their way down the hall, until finally a girl in a soft pink textured gown reached the two of you. She looked at George with a bit of shock, but quickly dismissed it in favor of speaking to you.

“{Y/N} c’mon, they’re about to announce Spring Queen! You need to hurry!”

You looked at George with apprehension. He merely smiled and leaned forward to kiss you again. “Go on, win that thing. I’m not going anywhere yet.”

With a grin, you reached to squeeze his hand and then trotted off to join your friend, the pittering of both of your heels echoing off the walls. Sure, George had no idea of his words would be true. Knowing Drew and Troy, he probably already had the firing squad on their way over to take him and never make him see the light of day again. But he would be damned if he ever saw sadness or fear in your eyes. You did not deserve that. Pushing himself off the locker, George dusted himself off and then headed back to the gym.

The entire group in attendance stood eagerly awaiting the news around the stage at the far center of the room. Up there, George saw a gorgeous diamond crown and a larger gold crown nestled on pillows beside two sashes, which he suspected were to signify the King and Queen. On the stage next to the Principal stood all candidates for Queen. You stood out to George like the moon on a dark winter’s night. The sight took his breath away.

“I’d like to thank you all for coming out tonight, and for voting for our new Spring Queen,” Principal Hews spoke, his grand voice bellowing through the room. “It is my great pleasure and honor to announce to you, this year’s Spring Queen…{Y/N}!”

The cheer George gave was louder than he had ever cheered before. You looked near tears as the crowd clapped and hollered, the losing girls slinking off the stage with catty sneers as you got your sash. You looked absolutely regal with your crown on. A true princess. George felt as if he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. He wanted nothing more than to pick you up and twirl you around just to see if he could make your radiant smile match the glittering gems on your crown in vivacity. He wanted to give every last cent he had to let you know you were truly worthy of that crown.

You wanted to give him a chance to do so.

“As my first decree as Spring Queen, I would like Mr. George Daniel to please come up here with me on stage.”

George’s heart stopped. Me? She seriously chose me? George got a mixture of confused and angered looks as he passed through the crowd of people to join you up on stage. No one knew him, and if they did, they hardly knew why you would choose him over them. One particularly angered boy had to have been Finn, for he flipped him off and mumbled something about him stealing his girl before George made it to the stage. Once he was there with you, all of the people faded away. Your smile blinded him to them.

“I hereby announce that George Daniel is this year’s Spring King.”

To an assortment of cheers and boos, you had George bend down slightly so that you could place the golden crown on his head. As soon as it was on, and George managed to get his sash on, the two of you made your way to the gym floor. There, you were to share a dance together. George felt like something out of a dream.

“May I have this dance, George?”

Grinning, George pulled you close to him and gave you a tender kiss. “It would be my honor, my Queen.”

And then, the music started. George never imagined himself finishing off the night dancing to ‘I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing’ with a beautiful girl like yourself, but he felt right lucky to be able to do so. He twirled you and held you close as if you were the light of his life. You held onto him and smiled back up at him as if he made your world perfect. Somehow, this big ol’ boy with a rough life completed your beautiful queen’s life. All at once, everything was different. Both of you wouldn’t have the fairytale moment any other way.

Like all fairytales though, there had to be drama. That drama came in the form of, as soon as the music stopped, George being torn away from you by none other than a very bruised and bloodied Drew alongside Troy. He went to shove them away, nearly hitting Drew’s nose in the process, when he froze before the sight of an irate Willa and a smaller than life wilted shamble of the man he knew to be Lou. Willa snatched his arm, nearly throwing him forward with a slew of angered words. All eyes were on them, most consisting of shock and confusion at his treatment. You tried to follow them, but found yourself unable to catch up. George was up and gone, riding miles away with his family, his fairytale ruined. Looking down, you realized he did not even get to say goodbye. You also realized something equally, if not more sad. He never got to go to the authorities. Tears in your eyes, you tossed your heels aside and ran to your car.

If George couldn’t get himself free, then by all means, you would do it for him.

~~~~~~

“THE NERVE YOU HAVE.”

George stared at Willa, his eyes cold and sunken in as her words hit him. She had not quit yelling at him since he arrived back home. A bruise growing on his cheek signaled she had done even more along the way.

“You think you can disobey me like that? Like some ungrateful tramp?”

“What on Earth would I owe to you? You ruined my life!”

“Shut up,” she said, another slap rattling George. “It is your fault for ruining mine!”

“What are you even talking about?”

“We would be a perfect family if you weren’t in the picture,” she snarled, pushing at George. “Drew and Troy are model children, and your Uncle and I are in love. Without you, we would be wonderful. And yet we have to deal with you, and your horrid nature, and your horrid hair, and-”

All eyes in the room, including George’s slightly bruising ones, flew to the door. A few more knocks came, followed by a loud voice.

“Police, open up!”

The eyes suddenly all flew to George. He was a walking black and blue billboard, angered and easily able to talk out about what happened to him. If the police saw him, they would not be able to deny what was going on. George knew he was in trouble. He made it almost to the staircase before Willa threw Lou at him to catch him. Lou put a finger to his lips, and a harsh hand on the back of his throat. George followed him into the kitchen merely out of the pain from his hand. When he got there, Lou grabbed a steak knife and held it at him, eyeing the boy.

“Say one word and you’ll regret it boy.”

George stared him down cold as the man’s hand held his wrist down. “Why would I? I’d rather be dead than deal with you all one more day.”

“And let that poor girl at the dance know you bled out before she could save you?”

“You leave her out of this.”

George heard the door open. Willa spoke cheerfully, fakely so to the cops in the other room. “You’re pathetic,” he whispered, eyeing the knife. “You can’t possibly love her enough to threaten me like this. You used to love me.”

“Who says I don’t love you?”

“Probably the butcher’s knife at my throat.”

“It’s complicated George, you do things for those you love.”

“If you loved me at all, you wouldn’t let your ‘wife’ over there lie about me getting abused and mistreated here. You’d turn her in, not protect her.”

Lou shut his eyes and sighed. “But I am.”

“What?”

“George! George, where are you?”

{Y/N}. Your voice echoing through the kitchen, it took everything in George not to call out back. You sounded so terrified. So, so terrified. George hated that sound. He nearly let tears overtake him when, suddenly, his hand no longer was held down. George looked to Lou in confusion.

“What-”

“George!”

Bursting through the kitchen door, you ran in followed by the police to find Lou holding the knife up, and George standing like a deer in headlights. The police told him to drop the knife immediately, which he did followed by letting them willingly handcuff him. George did not know what to say.

“What...what the hell just happened?”

“I knew if you contacted your Nan, you’d alert someone about what was going on here and they’d rescue you.”

George’s jaw dropped. “You...you let yourself get caught?”

“I’m fucked up George,” Lou said, the other officer moving to go arrest Willa in the living room. “I love Willa. But you opened my eyes up to how horrid she was to you, so...I decided that the best thing would be for us to get out of here together. You were right, George. You were right. And now you get to live your life with your Nan how it should be lived. Take care of that pretty little thing by your side.”

George briefly looked down to your shaken face before looking back at Lou. “Lou, I-”

“Don’t speak,” he said defeatedly. “Just...go live your dream. Please, have a good life.”

With that, George watched as Lou, followed by an erratic Willa, were carried away into cop cars. Drew and Troy, though both not technically guilty of anything, went along in the cars with the cops, as they were still minors and could not live on their own even if they wished. They would probably end up at a foster home. George hardly cared what happened to them. All he cared about was the fact that, soon, he would have a new life. He would have his Nan, his education, and his freedom. A small kiss placed on the side of his arm reminded him that, to his delight, he also had you.

“Did you call the police?”

Nodding, you wrapped your arms around his waist. “After what you told me, I was so scared to see you taken away like that so suddenly. I went to them as soon as you left and got them to come over here. Are you okay?”

George nodded. “My face hurts, but I’ll be alright. I’ll probably have to go to the hospital with the medics outside just so they can check once they’re done dealing with all them, but I’m okay. Are you okay?”

“Now that I know my King isn’t hurt and won’t be any longer?” You pulled George down and gently kissed his swollen cheek. “I’m wonderful.”

“Wonderful.”

There was no time like the present to do what he wanted to do next. Picking you up, George twirled you around and, upon setting you down, gazed at your beautiful smile and kissed you deep, his hand moving to your cheek. You were his new dream. You were the key to his future, his rescuer with a dazzling smile. You saved his world and put the pieces back together because your kind heart told you to. George would spend every day with his newfound freedom thanking you for that. You would send every day thanking your lucky stars that you were able to.

George’s home life had been hell, but his future became the sweetest form of heaven.

And he lived happily ever after in your arms.

The end.

#george daniel #george daniel fanfiction #the 1975 fanfiction #The 1975 fic #George Daniel Imagine #George Daniel preference #George Daniel writing #George Daniel oneshot #The 1975 imagine #The 1975 Oneshot #The 1975 #George Daniel Imagines #oneshot #A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes

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rkxsunggyu-blog · 7 years

Text

TRC’S Triple Threat Challenge | Pray & Loser (Sunny Hill & BigStar Mashup)⚙️ Time: 1:36

The first words out of his mouth weren’t ones he meant to say aloud: “WOW, it’s really Tiger JK!” He’s so shocked to see one of his heroes that he stands there, dumbfounded and clutching the microphone with sweaty palms. This is happening. This is really, really happening. If he wasn’t held upright by the metal braces encapsulating his legs, his knees would be knocking together.

“Hello, I’m twenty-three year old Kim Gyusung-- I MEAN, Kim Sunggyu!” he stutters. The sour sting of bile surges from his stomach to the back of his throat. It takes everything in him not to projectile vomit at the judges table. His nervous laughter is accompanied by the usual snorting, amplified to nightmarish proportions by the microphone. “I’m p-performing a song that has a special meaning to me,” he says. Deep breath. Deep breath. Deep breaths.

“I’m the Triple Threat that’ll keep on multiplying!”

Why did he say that? Why did he say something so cheesy and cringe-worthy? He can’t go anywhere without coming off like a goof, can he? Embarrassing himself wasn’t part of his audition plan, which was meticulously outlined in a journal at home. Sunggyu’s strategy for the performance is to stay within his ability. As he takes a deep breath, he reminds himself to keep his performance clean. He can’t let the competition make him desperate. From the moment he’s stepped on stage, he’s been restraining the desire to kick his performance up a notch. It’s tempting to add vocal runs or extra flair in his dance. But, he refrains and sticks to his plan. It’s better to be excellent with the basics than be mediocre – or worse, make a total fool of himself – by trying to reach the level of the other contestants. Even if he doesn’t realize it, his charisma may carry most of his audition.

Sunggyu does a complete bow before the judges, clicks the microphone back onto the stand, and takes a deep breath. He’s going to tackle dancing first. The crowd must be wondering, he supposes, how someone like him planned on dancing. For the first few nights after reading about the competition, he’d wondered too. The official rules never outlined what kind of dance they wanted to see. As long as it classifies as a dance, he can check off that box for the competition requirements. It’s unrealistic for him, both physically and training-wise, to burst into contemporary dance. The competition seemed impossible. He’d mused that if sleight of hand counted as a dance form, then maybe his zero chance of winning could be bumped up to one percent. He’s always been good with his hands -- quick with working wooden puzzles, excellent sleight-of-hand for his magic tricks, and fast to wrap holiday presents at his mother’s shop.

His hands. His hands were the solution. He doesn’t need his legs to dance.

It’s just his style to have a clever answer for everything.

The music begins, but there’s not a single instrument to be heard. Instead, it’s a careful selection of sound effects he’d spliced together on a friend’s computer. Screeching tires. Scrunched metal. Heavy breathing. Cellphone dial tone. Sirens. All the while, he’s been creating a story using his upper body alone. It’s a form of street dance called tutting, the art of creating illusions through finger and wrist movement. Masters can make it look hypnotic -- like their bones are liquid, like their muscles are silk, and like each movement is a puzzle piece sliding into place. Sunggyu is only moderate in skill, but his background in sleight of hand finally seems useful. His fingers loop and twirl, wrists rotate and snap, and shoulders roll when necessary. He concentrates and is thankful he didn’t choreograph anything beyond his current capabilities. He needs to finish the combinations seamlessly if he doesn’t want to look like a fool.

Here comes his favorite part. Sunggyu closes his eyes and keeps them shut, but it’s part of the routine rather than nerves. In the backing track, the sirens fade so voices can be heard instead. He’d recorded one of his friends saying “clear” and melded it with another royalty free sound effect: the zap of a defibrillator. Eyes still closed, his hands are clasped over his chest as he introduces another street style. He’s bopping, isolating the chest to move it back and forth while flexing. Every time he hears a zap, he double-bops and stops. There are only three zaps to save time and on the third, the hands locked over his chest unfurl like flower petals. They twirl in a final, spinning illusion and grab the microphone. He hopes that he made it clear his hands were supposed to represent his heart...or should he not have done that? It’s not like he’s supposed to be writing an essay thesis on stage.

The background transition to the instrumentals are choppy, no better than the average high school student assigned an editing project. But, the ideas and authenticity were still there. A great performer can entertain. A great artist can make people feel -- make them cry until each blink stings, make them belly laugh until they gasp for air, unbottle the emotions they keep inside of them. He might not be able to hit a whistle note, but he could try telling a story with his voice.

“Someone told me...”

The first few notes wobble. He’s nervous, no matter how meticulously he’s prepared. From the baggy clothes to help mask stiff body movements to the chunky glasses that obscure most of his face, he’s put thought into every detail. Then why is he sinking?

...To pray, to dream...”

The next few notes wobbles, too. The stakes are high and he’s choking. He’s choking in front of Tiger JK – oh, and it’s so obvious. The performance anxiety happened the morning of the modeling competition as well, but he doesn’t have a bottle of soju to loosen him up this time. All he has is himself. He closes his eyes and thinks about his performances at the spring festival. He thinks of his candid performance of To The Happy World. He thinks of how free he felt – the whirling, soaring, cage-breaking feelings as his worries slipped away. Sunggyu feels the tension in his shoulders melt away.

Now, his notes are crystal clear. They’re strong and it’s free, just like that day at the festival. He came in with nothing, so nothing is lost if he leaves empty-handed.

That it will come true no matter what it is Tell me everything, please look and tell me Please tell me to stop.

He knows that feeling. He knows that earth-shattering moment when you realize your parents and teachers lied to you. Nobody is special in this world; your report cards and mother’s report cards don’t mean shit in society. There’s no safety, no guarantees, and no happily ever afters when you’re an adult. Maybe you’re not good as everyone thought you were. Maybe you’re disappointing them. Your teachers promised that you could be astronauts and CEOs, but you end off paying debt by doing laundry for rich kids. Maybe your parents promised to protect you from the monster in your closet, but what about the bank? The big, cold building that seizes your home and let’s you sleep on the streets. You can’t just wish on a star for a home, even if all your childhood movies promised it would come true.

You know this, yet you keep dreaming. You keep dreaming and dreaming. You wish you could give up. Oh, you would give anything to stamp hope out like a light. Hope is cruel, mocking you as you dig your own grave of fantasy and make-believe.

I only hear rough, heartless sighs I never get to hear a sigh of relief I’m praying and calling for someone to rescue me.

If everything is going to plan, he should be around forty-nine seconds into the audition. Instead of jumping into the chorus, he’s inserted a rap segment that went well with the instrumental. The original song didn’t have a rap portion, so he’d selected one that helped convey his story best. The weight of people’s eyes -- expecting entertainment and ready to thrash him online if they didn’t get it -- fall heavy on him. His hands are sweaty and he grips the microphone a little harder, not wanting it to slip.

Honestly, I’ve never fit in with the world I was always alone It’s been a long time since I’ve forgotten about love I can’t listen to hopeful love songs anymore You and me both We’re just sad clowns, tamed and scripted I’ve come too far I’m coming home I wanna go back to when I was young.

He hopes he delivered the lines the way he wanted to; abandoned and bitter. Rapping to one of Tiger JK’s own artists was pretty ballsy. He feels like he’s moving into autopilot to keep from breaking apart on stage. Would that piss off the CEO? It’s a quick, twenty second rap to make sure he qualifies all the requirements. But, it was carefully selected to emphasize what he wanted people to feel from his performance. He’s careful that way -- an authentic individual, even if at times he’s written off as a fool or outright crashes and burns.

The rap should clock in at twenty seconds and without wasting time, he dives back into the song. He’s delivering the chorus, then a few closing lines taken from the end of the song that should wrap up the performance well.

Stand by me in necessary Little by little you get more sick Lalala lalala lalala lalala Don’t cry for me and I’m sorry

He’d only tampered with the lyrics once. In his eyes, it was a good reason: he never wants people to feel sorry or pity him. He just wants to be himself, not a sob story or pity party.

Little by little everything you lost starts to cave in. Someone said that life is like this That things become so dull, no matter what it is Tell me everything, please look at me and tell me Please tell me to wake up.

That was the end.

All that charisma melts into a puddle of awkward as he stares at the judges table, wide-eyed like the weight of what he’s just done finally hit him. What was he doing up here? No, that wasn’t the right question. The question he asks himself is why does he think he belongs up here? What does he do? Should he thank them? He has to do SOMETHING, he’s just standing there holding the microphone.

Sunggyu isn’t sure if he mumbled a thank you. All he knows is he jammed the microphone back into a stand, backed up like he committed a crime, and ran off stage.

#rkttc #we end this like napoleon dynamite #gyu is so embarrassing but also SO EMO???#solo #cw: hospital mention

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kendrixtermina · 7 years

Text

5w4 Gothic

- You drop a 3 word latin sentence in causual conversation. At the prompt of your mildly confused co-worker, you try and translate it to english, and it becomes seven words, except, you realize, those couldn’t possibly suffice to precisely encapsulate what the sentence means in its original contexts, how exactly it fits into your conversation and how much thought you put into picking out the most fitting description for the subject matter. They ask you to explain in your own words; You paraphrase, and suddenly, the sentence becomes an entire paragraph. You try to say “hammer”, but out comes “manual, multidirectional short-term pressure device”. Your co-worker gives you a long, silent look whose meaning you can’t discern. You wish faces were as easy to read as latin.

- You’re never sure if you’re hungry, having a sad, or dying of cancer. You assign each possibility percentages and keep them updated through your day.

- Over time, you have found that you absorb information best when it’s presented to you as a logical, self-contained explanation. Some things are often explained that way; Other topics, not so much. For example, how to talk to people without somehow pissing them off. You’re getting a little frustrated - Why don’t people just explain these things to you? More importantly: Where is everyone else getting this information from, since they don’t seem to have that problem? This might merit further investigation.

- “We only remember 30% of a given text” . You remember your teacher saying it, and you’ve read articles than confirm it; At the time, you speculated that your rate must be subtly higher, and that it may have been a ploy to get you to put up with all the boring repetition. Only during your last introspection session did the true horror dawn on you; You thought that the more you read, the more you absorbed, the more you would know, but that is not so. Time eats on your precious reserves, every night, bits and pieces are sorted out by some arcane algorithm; Even without counting the horrors of sleep and the odd drunken blackout, you probably do not recall most of your life. Yet, your neurotic habit of feeding yourself with random trivia does not cease, but you are now aware of the futile, consumerist nature of your endeavors. You take a scientific magazine, shove it in one ear, and wait to it to come out the other. You are torn between chiding yourself for that gross violation of anatomy and admiring the beauty of that metaphor.

- You heard your boyfriend making noise in the living room, walking back and forth, grabbing what sounds like china and also the door hinge. Is he grabbing the leftovers, or making something for himself? Is he not satisfied with the quality of your cooking? Does he wish that it be served at more regular frequencies? You want to leave him his freedom because you believe in retaining yours, but you’re forced to stifle the stupid irrational displeasure over the sense that one of your skills is being questioned. You want to offer to cook, to prove that you can do it right, but you also really don’t feel like cleaning up the kitchen first; But giving up a duty that you took upon yourself seems like admitting incompetence. He suggests getting a dishwasher; You say that it seems to be overkill for two people, but as you have no rational reason to protest, you end it with, “Well, it’s your money.” You hope he will not demand that you talk to you again today

- You live in a hamster cage. You think it is elegant and functional and like how the water tube looks sciencey. The first time someone said it, it could be dismissed as a fluke, but by now, you’re forced to conclude that your appartment is considered “small”. You do not think it is small. You think it’s just large enough. Why do they think you would want a larger one? You never nagged them with such a demand and in fact made sure to assure them that you are perfectly satisfied, though perhaps not enthusiastically; Then again, it’s not like such enthusiasm would have been warranted over a simple room.

- One day, you realize that you have never cried at a movie. That schocks you, albeit mildly and vaguely. You fear for your Angsty Deep Person credentials. You do not understand. After all, you care a lot about fictional universes. You spend all day analyzing their brilliance and playing out fanfic scenarion in your head. Eventually, you slightly tear up as you rewatching an episode of your favorite Sci Fi schow in the middle of the night, in your room, by yourself. You consider that a sucess.

- As a child, you were nicknamed as the “walking Dictionary” on at least three separate occasions. What they do not realize is that every time they said that, it drove a sharp icicle into your fragile little heart. Yet, some warped sort of pride keeps you bringing up this incident. Perhaps it might be relevant or useful to someone? Or so you delude yourself.

- You change your current obsession to “enneagram”. It’s almost like one of these edutainment games that combines something hard(peopling) with something fun (theoriring.) You furrow your brow as you read the description. do not think you’re a minimalist; There is, after all, a poster of the periodic system on your wall and an anime figurine next to your laptop.

- You once spent sixty full minutes rambling to your classmates about some awesome thing related to your curent obsession. There are stars in your eyes, and there is life in your animated gestures. You move with confidence because you know exactly what to do. You feel as if that is one of those moments where you are most yourself. Later, your teacher informs you that no one was listening or caring, and that you are selfish for speaking about rambling on about that no one else is interested in. You do not talk to your classmates again.

- You don’t know why that is, but people just don’t like you. Wherever you go, you stand out. You don’t now what causes it or how to prevent it. “Oh, do you suddenly have feelings too?” says one person. “Yeah you have a lot up here, but nothing here *points at chest*” says another. You’re confused and uncertain. You only wanted to share something that you loved. You only wanted to inform others of something you would want to know. You’re supposed to treat others as you want to be treated, right? Besides, to have a place in this world, you must be useful somehow, right? You want very bad to be useful. You are bad at many things, and doing the one thing you can do apparently makes you arrogant. You wonder what else you are supposed to do. You are good for nothing else.

- You join the local theatre group and attach yourself to the subset of it that is planning to do a satre play. You always wanted to do Satre, the philosophy and concepts interest you, and it has a nice, deep intellectual touch to it, basically your jam. You don’t look into any of the other groups as you don’t feel that interested in a romcom and are very certain that you want to be in this one. A few weeks in, the group leader pulls you aside- “Your style of acting does not match my vision”, he says. “Besides, I don’t think you really felt at home in our group, I’ve noticed that you always sit a little apart. Perhaps, maybe you’ll feel better in a different group?” You did not feel unwelcome. You really liked the group. Your opinion of everyone in it is vaguely positive. You had no opinion on “group dynamics” at all because you were focussed on theater. You respect his decision as it is based on objective fact and loyalty to his artistic vision. You just wish he had just told you that you suck without making it sound like he was doing you a favor. You want to tell him that you enjoyed your time with the group, but the words won’t come out in your mouth and you are frozen solid in the doorway.

- But hell is others

- You don’t want to be one of these clingy girlfriends everyone complains of, but unfortunately, he’s a social-first ESFJ and this is before you knew typology. You’ve read that men have to have enough free space. He asks you to write and talk more, and you try, but you don’t know what about. You attempted long, deep-onversation letters earlier, but he responded with vague one-liners, even when you tried to referrence the topics you saw him discussing on his facebooks and the radio shows he listens to. You wonder if you are annoying him. Your feeble efforts matter little as he accuses you of not caring about him and tells you that he never had such problems with a girl before. He doesn’t say “freak” but the world is there. You conclude that the golden rule is bullshit.

- You don’t understands why he keeps e-mailing you after the breakup. It makes no logical sense. You broke up for good reasons, and its not like those will magically dissapear because you take him beck. You are puzzled. What could his objective be? You delete all the emails. He probably tells all his friends.

- Even your best relationship involved you once being compared to a robot at least once. Illuminated by the eerie light of your computer screen in the darkened, you turn back to look at him from under the tangle of cables and wires poking out of your skin and reply “Does not compute.” He’s not sure if you replied to him, or to whoever you were currently talking with in cyberspace.

- You would argue that you have a lot of feelings, but then, there come those rare occasions when you actualy talk to people. The documentary you’re watching includes a shot of a decapitated corpse, mudered by her jealous ex-husband amid a mix of very interesting socipolitical factors. “Fascinating.” you mumble. The 1w9 beside you is audibly gagging.

- You mostly eat or sleep when your hunger or tiredness reach a level that impacts your concentration. You have not seen the sun in days. You begin to wonder if it even still exists and concoct an elaborate esoteric theory to explain its dissapearance.

- You are lowkey jealous of people who have calloused hands from their work or specific patterns of muscles from their favorite sport. Not because you remotely like sport, but because it’s evidence of their dedication and devotion. to their passion. The evidence of your dedication is all in your head, and you wonder if that is also true in the figuratice sense. You phantasize at lenght about being an outwardly human-looking cyborg.

- On TV, everyone who talks like you turns out to be an alien or an android. You read through forum discussions where everyone calls them “plot devices” with “no personality”. You would apparently do better to like a “real girl”, like that super-atractive popular 3w4 teen prodigy for example. You delight in the knowledge that you are apparently imaginary, and ponder the philosophical implications of that.

- Your mind is like a sieve - not a regular sieve, but a molecular one, the kind that only allows passage to certain substances and selectively retains others. When you can’t remember your appointments or the names of your classmates, you tell them you have a bad memory, but how are you going to explain how you manage to remember all that random trivia? Far too late, it dawns on you that people think you do not care. You do not precisely grasp what you ability to remember a few words or numbers has to do with caring. You

- At least your cacti understand you.

- You think, therefore you are. You try to explain to people that if you did sports, or small talk, or watch a romcom, or do everything else they keep nagging you to do, you would dissapear. Despite your flawless logical reasoning, people do not seem to believe you. Then, someone disrupts your cncentration, and you scatter into a cloud of Sea Foam, little mermaid style

- You seem to have misplaced your body. You’re not sure where it was when it happened, but you’re certain that your mind was drifting about the edge of the galaxy at the time, or perhaps in that book about ancient athens. If only you could make it back to a time and place where your friends existed, you might possess one of them and write them a note, but they’d only think that you’re an useless child who can’t handle their shit, so it’s probably good that you don’t have any friends.

- You cannot make a sound, and you must scream. Your mouth works perfectly fine, but the are now as distant to you as the stars, and your memory of when this wasn’t so is just as far back as their time-shifted illusions that you once saw in the sky. But since you can think the sound, actually making it is clearly optional

- Clearly, you see only two logical possibilities here: Either Cthulhu is real and you have just fulfilled your life-long dream of meeting him, or you have gone fully and completely bonkers for perfectly ordinary reasons like severe trauma or an oopsie-daisy in your brain chemistry. You hope it was Cthulhu. Your only regret is that you will never find out the truth.

- Where did you come from, and where are you going? You do not know, and because you don’t know, you cannot understand. You have no framework with which to decide where you are now - You might as well be curled up in an old abandoned fallout shelter, drifting at sea in an abadoned ship, or deep undergound in a glacial ravine, with nothing but ice and rock in every direction. You cower all alone, in the endless vastness of time and space, and the flimsy, ephemeral chunk of soul canned in your stinky, decaying flesh is awash with awe of the merciless void, so filled with the magnitude of your own insignifance that you cannot think or feel anything else; There’s not even enough room for that little, distant voice that usually watches and comments on your misadventures with surprising rationality. Whatever lies outside your frail, enclosed chysalis, you finally realize in full just how badly you are terrified of it. Your entire soul consists of nothing else. What were you, originally, before you tried to contain the horrors of the universe in your tiny little head? What are you now, that it refused to fit inside, what are you but this single, naked consciousness?

#enneagram gothic #5w4 #enneagram 5 #im not sure if I got the style right but there was an attempt #type 5 #enneagram

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dadonthemoveph · 4 years

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(Unli Dapa, from the words “unlimited” and “dapa,” a Tagalog word which means “to trip or to fall over.”) Unli Dapa encapsulates how our life has been during the Metro Manila quarantine that was brought about by the COVID-19 pandemic. Unli Dapa IN THIS ARTICLE Why Unli Dapa, you might ask? It’s nothing profound, really. Unli Dapa is a term that I quite jokingly coined to describe the afternoon walks that my wife and I had with our two little children during the lockdown. With all the time we had in our hands, I remarked that my eldest son could finally play outside to his heart’s content. And since I would put protective pads on his knees and elbows before we went around running, he would not get hurt even if he fell down a number of times, hence, Unli Dapa. In the end, our Unli Dapa moments, all those simple yet happy times of togetherness, kept us distracted from all the uncertainties during the quarantine. Life before Unli Dapa Before there was Unli Dapa, I was already at a crossroads in terms of my career. I felt like my job was eating too much of my time and I wanted to spend more of my hours with my children. Yes, my wife and I do come home early since we are renting a unit near the office. We can still take care of our children and play with them soon after our day at the office is done. We feed our kids, read a book to them, and put them to bed, and we would still have a bit more time left for ourselves. We are grateful because, unlike other working parents, we have this privilege of being with our children immediately after work. In spite of this, I can still feel a void inside me, a yearning to be with my kids a little more. I think it was the routine at the office that was already taking its toll on me and beginning to rob me of the things that make me happy. When my mind wanders sometimes, I get sad with the thought of one day waking up and realizing that my kids have already grown up without me noticing it. On many occasions, I wished for the day when I can finally make it up to my kids. Thinking about it now, I was actually praying for the day when our Unli Dapa moments would arrive. Unli Dapa steered us through gloom The answer to my prayers came in an unconventional form because I had to find it in the midst of gloom. By mid-March this year, the entire Metro Manila was placed under a widespread lockdown because of the pandemic. Honestly, I thought that the quarantine would only last for a week. After that, we would be back to our regular routine. That was not the case though, in fact, the community quarantine was extended a few more times until we were allowed to resume work at our office. Could this situation finally be the Unli Dapa that I was fervently praying for? I will have to find out later on. Like other Filipinos, our anxiety grew by the day because of the uncertainties and the seeming darkness that lie ahead. The disruption from the familiarity of our daily routine was unthinkable. But more than anything else, it was the waiting game that was unbearable. What will happen to our jobs? We could not help but be anxious each time we are bombarded by news about companies laying off employees and businesses closing down. Before the pandemic, I was wishing for a new career path but I am not ready to lose my livelihood in an instant just yet. We do not have enough savings to get us through the days and I am worried for the future of my children. It felt like my whole existence was being constricted. The everyday stress, the feeling of unease, and the challenges of supporting a big household, when combined, is panic attack waiting to happen. Thankfully though, our companies assured us that we would continue to receive salary and that our leave credits would remain intact despite work suspension. That alone lifted a lot of burden from our shoulders and at least put us at ease that we would not starve in the days ahead. Still, the pandemic brought a different level of paranoia when it came to our health. More than anything, I was worried for the health of my loved ones. My wife is considered high-risk because of her hypertension. My children are still so small; the idea of them catching infection is unthinkable. Furthermore, my parents are both senior citizens living on their own at our home in the province. Who would take care of them should anything untoward happen? And lastly, I feared for my own health because I wanted to grow old with my wife and see my children become adults. However, these are things that we have little control over and worrying round-the-clock will not solve anything. We can be more cautious health-wise, yes, and we can limit our errands that require us to go out, but that is just about as much as we can do. Thus, instead of wallowing in despair and preoccupying my days with dread, I decided to look beyond the grimness of the situation. We can start something new and pick up from where we were at. After all, we were told by the government to stay home. Why not just take it as it is? At least, we would not have to go through the trouble of filing for a vacation leave, I thought in jest. Selfish as it may seem but we had to find a way to look at things creatively in order to survive, and that is when Unli Dapa finally came to our lives. To keep ourselves busy, we created a simple routine for our kids that included learning and play. Mornings were dedicated to getting early morning sun, reciting the alphabet, identifying colors, playing with shape sorters, watching educational videos, and letting our kids play with their cousins. Meanwhile, late afternoons would be the schedule of our “unlimited” playtime at the front lawn. But before that, I would prep my two-year-old son by putting on knee and elbow pads to cushion him when he fell down. That’s when I jokingly said that he could have Unli Dapa all he wants since he is well-protected anyway. That gave my son the confidence and the enthusiasm to carry on and enjoy the activities that he loved doing the most without any hesitation. From then on, I began calling our afternoon bonding as Unli Dapa. When it was time for our afternoon walk, I would cheerfully announce “Unli Dapa na!” and our toddler would be ecstatic. During the quarantine, we did not use our free time to learn new skills or try the different food trends that became popular that time. It was perfectly fine because I finally fulfilled my dream of having unlimited bonding with our kids and nothing could be more wonderful than that. Having lived in the restrictive confines of a condominium unit for years, unlimited playtime outdoors is a totally new experience for us and it was utterly heaven for the kids. What’s even better is that our routine worked wonders for our toddler. We observed that our firstborn, who was diagnosed with global developmental delay when he turned two years old, showed a lot of improvements as the days went on. He began to be more responsive when we said his name. He was making more eye contact when we talk to him, and his concentration has dramatically improved. He would also read letters and say the names of pictures that he recognized. We consider those as big achievements and they inspired us to push forward each day. With regard to my younger baby, we saw him grow right before our very eyes. He was born just three months before the lockdown. If you factor in our combined maternity and paternity leaves, then you would see that we have just been recently back to the office when the lockdown was imposed. There is nothing more joyful that seeing your child’s growth milestones unfold in front of you. As parents, it's really hard to describe the happiness that you feel when you see your children getting big, enjoying life, and laughing vigorously. As the days passed, I realized that the phrase Unli Dapa took on a deeper meaning in our lives because it helped us cope with the pandemic. Unli Dapa, without us immediately realizing it, got us through the days of uncertainties and what’s even better is that it came with the bonus of further strengthening the bond that holds our family together. For my family, Unli Dapa connotes the resiliency to bounce back from setbacks and the faith that there is still something good and bright to look forward to after each day. For me, Unli Dapa captures all those many little precious moments that I got to spend with my wife and kids during the community quarantine. And for many people, Unli Dapa is the mettle to continue moving forward and tackle the challenges that lie ahead because life is not about giving up. Life is about hurdling barriers because we see the good things that await us in the horizon. We may not always win, but at least we put up a good fight. Beyond all the chaos and drama of the pandemic, that is how I choose to remember the almost 100 days of being in isolation. The human spirit is strong. As long as it sees hope, it can take unlimited beatings. As long as it loves, it will not stop moving forward. As long as it seeks, it will trudge obstacles. Unli Dapa means that we may fall down a lot of times and we may commit many mistakes along the way, but there’s no limiting the number of times that we can get up, start again, and make progress. *** This story is an entry to ComCo Southeast Asia’s “Write to Ignite Blogging Project”. The initiative is a response to the need of our times, as every story comes a long way during this period of crisis. Igniting and championing the human spirit, “Write to Ignite Blog Project” aims to pull and collate powerful stories from the Philippine blogging communities to inspire the nation to rise and move forward amidst the difficult situation. This project is made possible by ComCo Southeast Asia, co-presented by Eastern Communications and sponsored by Electrolux, Jobstreet and Teleperformance. mbtTOC();

http://www.ivankhristravels.com/2020/06/unli-dapa.html

#Travel #Family Travel #Lifestyle #Food

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