#at what age do kids read the great gatsby now because i feel like every syllabus for that HAS to cover the unreliable narrator... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

witchybluedeity · 3 years

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Not Like This Part One

I blame @godsliltippy, @tsarinatorment, @gumnut-logic and @flyboytracy this entire idea.

John appearing mid-Pendergast marathon made Gordon jump way more than it should have, and the smirk on Scott's face proved the pilot had seen it. "John! It was getting to the good part!"

"We have a situation."

That got his attention. Within seconds Gordon and Scott both switched from casual brothers to International Rescue operatives, a skill they learned in WASP and the Air Force. "What's up John?"

"There's a whale beached on a sandbank off of Tasmania's West Coast, the caller said its name is… Gatsby?"

"You're kidding!”

John shook his head, bringing up the image of the beached whale. "Nope."

Gordon grinned and stood up. “I'm on my way!”

“Gordon, we don't rescue animals-”

“Scott, you don't get it! This is Gatsby! He's a research whale! He helps scientists and marine biologists monitor how much marine life take care of the ocean! They've already learned how whales are essentially the hearts of the ocean. They're a key participant in making sure the ocean's biological carbon pump is working efficiently by absorbing the dissolved atmospheric carbon from the surface and sequestering it to the sea floor. Since they're one of the largest marine animals, they can absorb up to 33 tons of carbon when they reach old age! They're helping the planet!" The aquanaut concluded his speech with a challenging glare towards Scott, who sent back a glare of his own.

"We're not an animal rescue association, Gordon. We rescue humans."

"Humans are animals too, Scott! International Rescue will rescue Gatsby, whether I have to go alone or not!" Gordon raced towards the small aquarium where the flooring concealed his chute, determined to postpone the argument until he wasn't in a hurry.

Scott had other ideas. "You can't be serious!"

"La la la, I can't hear you!" He nearly slammed his hand onto the hidden scanner in the class, impatiently waiting for the walls to surround him and take him to his awaiting 'Bird. "I'm going. And I dare you to try to stop me."

The venom in his brother's voice caused Scott to flinch despite everything, and he let out a heavy sigh, facepalming. Stubborn brothers.

The now-agitated aquanaut folded his arms tightly over his chest before turning to change into his uniform, releasing a heavy sigh. “Goddammit Scott.” Letting his training drop, his excited marine-loving side took over and a smile blossomed on his face. “I’m saving the Gatsby! Nothing could go wrong!”

The mechanical arms helped him finish suiting up, and soon Gordon was taking a deep breath and diving into Four’s tank with eagerness he usually reserved for ocean swims. Thunderbird Four’s airlock opened for her pilot the moment he hit the water, and as always he patted her outer hull in thanks before pulling himself in.

“Get ready girl.” He grinned as he positioned himself in the seat, flipping into the control room. “We’re saving one of the most famous whales.” Starting up her systems was mandatory, but it sent a ripple of calmness through him, as though she was reassuring him. As though she could sense his nervousness prior to every mission.

One of the many reasons he loved her.

“Thanks girl.” With a smile, Gordon patted her dash, watching the tank door slide open to reveal the ocean surrounding Tracy Island. “Thunderbird 4 is go.”

“F.A.B Thunderbird 4. Professor Shikund is going to meet you there.”

“Professor Shikund?! No way!” Gordon couldn’t help bouncing in his seat a little, drawing a smile from his older brother. “You can tell him I’ll be right there!”

“Your ETA is half an hour.”

Gordon fell still as he considered the time frames, biting his lip in worry. “How long has Gatsby been out of water John?” The other end was quiet for a moment.

“The Professor wants to talk to you personally. Should I-?”

“Patch him in John! Patch him in!” So what if he was fanboying? He’d read everything about the Professor, and had dreamt of meeting him.

Not even thirty seconds later, a new voice filled the cabin. “International rescue?”

Gordon nearly squealed, grin splitting his face in two. “Professor Shikund!!”

The Professor chuckled softly, shaking his head fondly. “I’m guessing you the marine expert of the team?”

“I wouldn’t say expert-” The aquanaut flushed lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just have a great interest in what happens below sea level.”

“That’s an understatement” John piped up, his hologram still active next to the Professor’s.

Shikund’s lips quirked into a small grin. “As much as I’d like to have a conversation with you, I currently have a beached whale waiting for rescue.”

Gordon’s eyes widened slightly in remembrance. In his excitement to talk to the Professor, he’d forgotten about the reason he was headed to the sandbank. How had he forgotten about that? “Right, right! Gatsby. How long has he been out of the water for? I’m twenty minutes out.”

“Gatsby’s been out here for approximately two hours and thirty-four minutes. He can only be out for another fifty-three before he perishes.”

“Right, okay.” Gordon reached up above the viewing glass and flicked a few switches, narrowing his eyes slightly. “If I push it I can be there in thirteen minutes. Four won’t like it, but a life is a life, and we save them.” With a flick of his wrist, the aquanaut swiped John away when the red-head opened his mouth to comment.

He’d known his brother long enough to recognize John was going to verbalize something similar to Scott. He didn’t need unnecessary comments.

“That’ll give us forty minutes to get him back into the ocean.” The professor didn’t like it, and neither did Gordon. It was barely any time, and he only had Thunderbird Four’s gear. They would have to improvise.

“Then we’ll save him in thirty.” Determination filled his voice as the aquanaut pushed his ‘Bird’s engines, plans already being formulated. One thing he knew he could try was using the robotic arms to either dig away the sand or gently pull the whale back into the water.

A frown appeared at the thought. Both options could be dangerous towards Gatsby’s health, which was something Gordon wanted to avoid at all costs, but they didn’t have many options. Thunderbird Four wasn’t geared up like her sisters. “What equipment do you have with you now?”

“I don’t have much that’ll be useful I’m afraid, I only came out here to check up on Gatsby.”

A heavy sigh left Gordon at the confession, one hand leaving the controls to run through blond hair. “This won’t be easy.” But then again, nothing they ever did was. Even the easiest missions sometimes took a turn for the worst.

Scott at home while his brothers were all out on missions proved that.

“But can we do it?”

Gordon felt his heart stop. What if they couldn’t do it? What if he couldn’t do it? He’d come out unprepared, carrying only the minimal gear. Something an IR operative never did. Something an ex-WASP Lieutenant never did.

But he knew someone he could depend on. Leaving the professor’s question unanswered for the moment, the aquanaut touched the IR symbol on his baldric. “Thunderbird Four to Thunderbird Two, are you there?”

It was quiet for a moment before his brother responded. “This better be important Gordon, I’m en-route to a hospital with injured victims in cargo.”

Wincing slightly, phantom pain momentarily spiked through his back. He’d known Virgil had been sent to a damaged ship in the South Atlantic, but he’d opted to stay behind. It was a busy day, and Gordon knew his brother could handle it, especially since the GDF had also been dispatched to help out. “Anything bad?”

“Nothing that’ll keep them hospitalized for long. What do you need?”

He chuckled, shaking his head with a stage-whispered “Lucky bastards” that would earn him a scolding if Grandma heard. “Those pods still functional? Might need one.”

“Dear brother mine, I’m not heavy-handed. I’ll be ten minutes dropping these guys off, then I’ll join you. What’s your position?”

“One time! One time! And I’m headed to the West Coast of Tasmania, twenty minute fly from your location.” He wasn’t mentioning how he’d worked with Scott to keep on eye on their brothers. “Forty minute time slot already, gonna need a land pod but keep it watertight, it might get a bit wet.” Narrowing his eyes, Gordon could see the seafloor beneath him slowly rising, a sign he was nearing land.

“What’s the situation?”

“Beached science whale, he’s an important one Virg.” The hesitance in Virgil’s response sent a wave of irritation through his veins. A life was a life!

“Scott’ll have your hide.”

“He can go choke on Grandma’s food for all I care.” And right now, he really didn’t. Scott was wrong, they did save animal lives. They’d never specified what lives they saved in all the years International Rescue had been operating, so why suddenly start now? ‘Because Scott is already riled up from being grounded’ was the answer in the back of his mind, but Gordon ignored it.

“Ouch Gords.” Virgil’s sigh was audible over the comms, reaching up to flick switches above the visual, a sure sign he was changing altitude. “Don’t chew him out, he’s just aggravated.”

“Oh, and I’m not? You try dealing with his grumpy ass while everyone else is out for a good six hours and see how aggravated you are.” The fact the two brothers had grown up dealing with each other while he, John and Alan had strayed to their own paths passed over him.

“Brother issues?” The professor queried, amusement clear in her expression when Gordon startled for the second time that day, not that he’d admit it to anyone still. “I know how you feel.”

Gordon frowned, head cocking to one side. “You do?”

“Veterinarian Harley Shikund-”

“He’s your brother?! Do you realize how many injured animals I’ve taken to him?!” He could hear Virgil snickering beside Shikund, but Gordon paid no attention.

“Oh I’m aware, he’s always mentioning an International Rescue operative bringing in injured animals for him to check over. Says it keeps him wondering what you’re going to bring him next.”

Virgil’s hologram blinked out, and Gordon bounced in his seat.

“When I saw Gatsby in trouble, that’s why I called. I knew this animal loving operative could help.” Shikund smiled, patting something behind her, most likely the beached Gatsby. The soft clicks that sounded through the comm unit confirmed it was the distressed whale.

Gordon nearly melted at the communication, and his determination to help Gatsby grew just that bit more. “Tell Gatsby I’ll be there in three minutes. Then we can get started helping back into the ocean.”

“You got it. Don’t get too close though, or you’ll be needing a tow. The sandbank rises fast.”

“F.A.B Professor, see you soon.” Cutting the connection, Gordon allowed himself a deep, happy sigh. First the Pendergasts, now Harley and Professor Shikund. He was meeting all his idols in this line of work. Sitting up with a big smile, he decreased his speed in preparation. It’d take Thunderbird Four one minute longer to get there, but he didn’t exactly want to get her beached alongside Gatsby.

That’d be fun to explain to Virgil.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #story #Thunderbird Four #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Gatsby the Whale #Professor Shikund

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okaybutlikeimagine · 4 years

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really weird hc but i think steve never cries, like it’s not that he doesn’t want to he just can’t??? he’s filled with emotions and he knows he technically should be crying but he just can’t. But billy on the other hand, if you asked him he’d deny it but he cries all. the. time. when he’s angry. when he’s sad. when he’s stressed. when he’s happy and laughing. he just can’t control it.

This is such an interesting headcanon and I DEFINITELY agree!!!! I think it makes perfect sense!!

Bc the way I think about it, Steve’s life has been a lot more performative than Billy’s has, if that makes any sense? Like, I think of Steve’s parents and I think of the kind of terrible people who had a kid just to 1. Pass down the name and 2. Say they have the “perfect family”. Like, they toted Steve out for parties just like Daisy does in Great Gatsby and then they’d hand him off to the sitter or the nanny or the maid or whatever. They didn’t actually want to raise a kid and understand that kid as a person, they wanted a trophy to say: “See this? This proves our relationship is strong and our marriage was worth it.”

And then, in the background, before Steve would be dragged off to whatever private function he was being forced and dressed to attend, his mom would grab him harshly and tightly around his little shoulders and kneel down to look him right in the eye and say: “You behave yourself, understand? There are going to be very important clients there and if you bother us while we’re working, you’re going to be grounded for a whole week. No, two. No toys, TV, nothing. You hear me?” And just imagine a little Steve, about age 5, blinking owlishly at his mom and nodding his head bc of course he can hear her, she’s right in his face, but the only thing he knows about “clients” is that they make his parents yell at each other and that they’re the reason his parents never read him bedtime stories or tuck him in at night

And I really don’t know a whole lot about like… the lives of the rich and famous, but I just can’t help but imagine Steve’s parents going to parties with the other “elite” in the area. And I use the term “elite” loosely bc i mean… let’s face it…. They still live in Hawkins. They’re definitely rich but it’s not like they’re rubbing elbows with high society over here. They’re the kind of rich, snobby, stuck up people who think they’re better than the people they share a community with. It’s the reason they’re not home very often: they hate being reminded about the fact that they haven’t moved out of Hawkins.

So they go to lots of rich, stuck up parties. And they hold Steve up like a trophy to their friends about how they have a kid already and “where’s yours, Patricia? Oh, don’t have one yet? Are things alright with you and Greg? Oh, just wondering, because if you don’t have a kid yet, well…. Maybe something’s wrong at home…”

and so Steve, with fresh threats swimming in his mind, stands there and smiles and takes all the cheek pinches and head pats even though he’s only a child and is about to fall asleep on his feet because they’ve been walking around meeting people for hours and the other kids won’t play with him because they think he’s “boring” or “stupid” or “poor” (which doesn’t make sense to him bc he’s the richest kid in his preschool as far as he’s aware. He figures the preschools must be different here.) so he puts on a mask even for the other kids. He pretends he doesn’t like playing in the mud or collecting bugs or making jokes about boogers. He puts aside acting like a kid to act like these kids just so he can play with them. Sometimes it works.

And so I think he learned not to cry at a very young age. Honestly, i dunno if you’ve heard about it, but I’m channeling The Who’s Tommy over here. Like, the whole “kid is threatened not to speak about this thing, that he didn’t see this thing, and that he didn’t hear this thing and thus goes deaf, blind, and mute”. And obviously a little less dramatic than that, but Steve’s always been told not to cry. When he would cry he’d get punished. It’s like a weird Pavlovian effect. Ever since he was a kid he was asked to put on a show for everyone, told not to pout or whine or cry, and now he just…. Can’t. He almost fears it. He hears his parents threats, even now at the age of 18, and smiles and laughs rather than cries. And sometimes he cries… that night that Nancy called him bullshit and told him she didn’t love him he went home and ripped a blanket she had (apparently lovelessly) gifted him and broke his lamp and accidentally sliced his foot on the glass of the lightbulb…. and cried and… and it felt like failure. It was only a couple of tears, hot and angry and rolling slowly down his face and he let his throat catch fire as he held everything else back. He was angry with himself at that point, more than anything. He looked himself in the mirror and heard his father’s words of “A Harrington never cries. Are you a true Harrington?” and sucked it all back in and did whatever he could to take his mind off of it, even though everything he did always ended with him fuming about the words over and over again and caused him to end up punching pillows and angrily drinking all the beer out of the fridge.

But Billy’s different.

Billy is a volcano. A volcano of every single emotion you can think of. He experiences them all violently and viciously and they take over his system until his body physically can’t hold back from crying. We SEE him cry multiple times in the show!!! And i like to think it’s bc rather than be toted around, he’s been locked in. where Steve’s parents drag Steve around to different social functions, Neil locks Billy up so he- and no one else -has to look at him. Steve is forced to be around others and put on a mask and Billy is forced to be alone, with just himself and his thoughts. He doesn’t need to mask himself when he’s alone.

And that’s not to say that Billy doesn’t also put on a show for others- because he most definitely does. I think a lot of what he does is performative bc he feels he needs to and his thought process for it lines up with Steve’s for himself: he’s just not good enough. He wasn’t good enough for his mom to stay, he wasn’t good enough for his dad to love in his mother’s absence, he wasn’t and isn’t good enough for anything. So he puts on a show of this big tough guy and he manipulates people and he calls it entertainment.

And this isn’t to say that he didn’t get yelled at for crying, either! Bc he definitely did. He’s gotten hit a few times for tears in his eyes but it was always followed with being locked in his room and being told that he was “embarrassing to watch”... and in the four walls of his room he cried more. Bc growing up, the one thing he found relief in was being sent to his room or even having his room in the first place: it gave him a space to be alone and let his emotions out. And he never tried to, his body always just did it for him. Bc crying is often a very visceral thing, and also a very natural and very human thing. It releases chemicals in your body to help soothe you and lord KNOWS Billy needs to soothe himself bc once his mom left, no one did it for him. His body realizes the emotions that aren’t being sorted and his mind knows when it’s safe (when he’s alone, when Neil’s turned and walking away, when no one can hear) and it cries. I just imagine Billy on constant vibrate, brimming with emotions and filled to the edge with too many things with everything with all of it and he just cries because there’s so few outlets for him. His body has grown accustomed to taking care of itself in that way. And so when he’s had too much (and the threshold on some days if very small), he rushes to his room and slams the door and as soon as it’s latched he’s near drowning in tears bc he needs release.

And let me tell you- it freaks the fuck out of Steve.

Because like you said, Steve just doesn’t cry. And the first time Billy and Steve have sex, Billy cries as he orgasms and Steve freaks. out. He thinks he did something wrong and he’s fretting over Billy and his heart is racing and he’s fighting with himself about if he should hold Billy’s face or step about 5 feet away from him because holy shit what happened??

And Billy feels like an idiot but there’s no stopping his body because he’s so overwhelmed by feeling so good and it’s been a long time coming for him and Steve and after all of that anger and animosity between each other, it was just too much and he cries. And he punches Steve while he’s crying, trying his best to growl but hiccuping around the words instead as he says: “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m so sorry Billy, holy shit! What do I do?!”

“Go get me a tissue, you dumbass!”

And he’s sniffling and blows his nose loud and Steve is in awe that Billy is still such a hardass even with tears running down his eyes.

And this happens a LOT. Every time Billy and Steve have sex, Billy tears up after he orgasms. It’s not always full on waterworks like the first time, but his eyes always water as he lays there with Steve, body lit up and hot like a fucking campfire, and he lays there and breathes and a tear rolls down his cheek and Steve has gotten so used to it that he leans over Billy and kisses the tear right at his cheekbone and whispers how beautiful he is. (and that usually makes Billy tear up even more, to which he shoves Steve with whatever strength he has left and tells him to shut his mouth)

The first time they tell each other “I love you” it’s the same thing. Billy whispers “I love you, too” and there go his tears. His chest heaves and he cries into Steve’s collarbone, gripping Steve’s shirt and Steve just kind of chuckles a bit and rubs Billy’s back and maybe cracks a joke about how he’s “such a sap” and Billy tilts his head so he can bite at Steve’s shoulder and make the boy yelp.

And the first time Billy catches Steve about to cry, he sees that the boy is about to run away. Bc he’s taken notice to the fact that Steve doesn’t cry and he hasn’t brought it up more than twice bc Steve is obviously anxious when he talks about it but Billy gets worried for him bc Steve always acts like he’s okay and Billy knows that’s not good. So when he catches Steve’s eyes watering and then Steve turning to lock himself away somewhere, he grabs the boy in the most forceful hug he can manage so that he can’t squirm away and hide himself and he says: “Don’t run away from me. Are you gonna cry?”

“Billy-”

“Then do it. You’re not a robot.”

“Billy stop I-”

“You’re human, you fucking dumbass.”

“Don’t call me-”

“It’s okay.”

And that makes Steve’s chest heave. He sucks so much air in he squeaks and his chest pushes against Billy’s own and Billy grabs tighter and nuzzles his head into Steve’s neck and whispers.

“You’re safe, Pretty Boy.”

And he stands there and he lets Steve cry. Lets himself be whatever physical and mental support Steve needs as he finally, finally let’s his body take over and just cries.

#ask #anonymous #billy hargrove #steve harrington #angst #hurt #comfort #harringrove #sorry this is a little off/weird #I'M feeling a little off/weird #i've been in a really bad headspace recently #but i really wanted to write something and i wrote this really quickly and.... yeah #♥#sorry this took a billion years to answer #i swear i'm gonna get to all my asks guys #eventually #there are a lot of things going on and they're giving me nervous breakdowns

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relishredshoes · 3 years

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Interview given to The Severus Snape and Hermione Granger Shipping Fan Group.

https://www.facebook.com/groups/199718373383293/

Hello CorvusDraconis and welcome to Behind the Quill, thank-you so much for sitting down with us to chat.

You’re a well known and beloved figure in the SS/HG community for your many stories - including a personal favourite of mine, A chance for happiness.

Okay, let’s jump right in. What's the story behind your pen name?

I have always had a fascination for the shiny things and the Northwest Coast depictions of Raven the Trickster/Creator, and, I tend to hoard (and get super protective) of my art supplies. Corvids have always been a positive sign in my life. They tend to show up when I’m feeling down and engage in funny antics in the yard. As for dragons, I’ve always had a love for them and think the Western depiction of them as dangerous beasts with no mind but for hoarding treasure and killing people only to be slain by a knight quite despicable.

Which Harry Potter character do you identify with the most?

Severus, actually. I see a lot of my life in his. Hardships, challenges, bullying— trying to be something better and later wondering about unwise decisions. I have a very similar dislike for dunderheads, but I do not share his inclination to denude rosebushes of their petals. Do you have a favourite genre to read? (not in fic, just in general) I have always preferred fantasy and sci-fi.

Do you have a favourite "classic" novel?

I am not sure if you would call it a classic novel, but grew up on all things Tolkien (and even puzzled through the Silmarillion at the grand age of seven), and have a special place in my heart for Watership Down. While I’ve read pieces like War and Peace, Iliad, Ulysses, Pride and Prejudice, Grapes of Wrath, Moby Dick, Great Gatsby, Little Women, Catcher in the Rye, Tom Sawyer/Huckleberry Finn, Scarlet Letter, Don Quixote, To Kill a Mockingbird, Animal Farm, Jane Eyre, Lord of the Flies, Tale of Two Cities, Heart of Darkness, Robinson Crusoe, Alice in Wonderland, Great Expectations, Odyssey, Frankenstein, Dracula, Crime and Punishment, Heart of Darkness, Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, The Secret Garden, Treasure Island, Anne of Green Gables, Les Misérables, Peter Pan, Gulliver’s Travels, all things Jack London, 20000 Leagues, etc.— they never captured me as aptly as Anne McCaffery’s Dragonriders of Pern or Mercedes Lackley’s the Last Herald Mage. Though, if I were to pick classic stories I read more than once (litmus test for things I like) it would be things such as The Secret Garden, Call of the Wild, Wild Fang, The Hobbit, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, and The Last Unicorn. At what age did you start writing? The moment I could pick up pencil and paper, I was writing. I had notepads full of stories I wrote as a kid. Alas, my dad found them one day when I was off to college, made fun of them, and I came home and burned every single one in mortification.

How did you get into writing fanfiction?

The moment TV shows did “stupid things” to their characters. I used to write things about Beauty and the Beast (the old CBS show) when they killed off the main character, Knight Rider, Robocop, Transformers— there are probably far more that I just don’t remember now. I was writing it long before there was a fanfiction dot net or a term to even call it. What's the best theme you've ever come across in a fic? Is it a theme represented in your own works? I am a shameless romantic for the beauty within and sometimes the quite literal love for a monster (not just some person who acts like a monster and changes into a better person.) The misunderstood monster is perhaps my most favourite theme, and it shows up in my stories often if not always. What fandoms are you involved in other than Harry Potter? I ship SessKag from Inuyasha, Lucard/Sophie from Dracula: The Series, and Loki/Hermione when I’m feeling crossover-y. If you could make one change to canon, what would it be? Do you have a favourite piece of fanon? Other than my favourite fanon that Severus lives/survives/finds a better life free of two masters and his guilt, I would say I would want Harry to wise the heck up and realise his father was a swine, his godfather was an almost successful murderer that used his own best mate to try and kill off another student, and his mother wasn’t all that hot either. I would want him to find value in himself without having to make stuff up about his “perfect” parents. Then again, I would want Vernon/Petunia to be arrested for child abuse and put in gaol, but— then the story would have been very different XD Do you listen to music when you write or do you prefer quiet? Sometimes quiet, sometimes music. But usually, I am best mates with Spotify.

What are your favourite fanfictions of all time?

In the HP universe: I honestly don’t read many of them because I’m always writing my own stuff XD, but when I really feel like I need a good Ron bashing SSHG HEA, I read just about anything by IShouldBeWritingSomethingElse. However, that being said, I often return to “The Sun is Often Out” by Hannah-1888 for just the right amount of angst and HEA to make me happy.

In the Inuyasha universe: A Trick of Fate by PristinelyUngifted

In the Marvel universe: Mutual Respect Sends His Regrets by moor

In the Star Trek universe: Gratified By Your Company by starfleetdream

Are you a plotter or a pantser? How does that affect your writing process?

I go by the seat of my feathered rump, to be honest. Inspiration is a fickle, unpredictable beast, and I usually don’t know what is going to happen until it does.

What is your writing genre of choice?

Fantasy

Which of your stories are you most proud of? Why?

Chance of Happiness because it was my very first publication. It may not have been my best, but it was my first, and it very well could have been my last yet somehow wasn’t.

Looks Can Be Deceiving and One Step Forward, Two Decades Back are two epic tales that seemed to demand being written. The fact I finished them was something I think deserves a little pride.

Did it unfold as you imagined it or did you find the unexpected cropped up as you wrote? What did you learn from writing it?

Looks started off with me attempted to write Dramione just once. It failed. Draco demanded to be her brother of the heart, Viktor came in and said “nope she’s mine,” and no one was more surprised at the outcome of that story than me. The characters did what THEY wanted.

I learned that trying to plan a story from start to finish is useless when the characters decide what they want. The story demanded more, and I was just a conduit that typed it down. For me, at least, attempting to outline and plan is utterly useless

How personal is the story to you, and do you think that made it harder or easier to write?

I think every story I write is personal in some way. The inspiration comes from somewhere inside, and I often have no idea what it is until I go back and read it later. I think the story wrote itself in a lot of ways, which made it easier in a way, but there are a lot of things I can’t say were from personal experience because as a high fantasy of talking gryphons and such I can only imagine it. There is no basis in real life on how any of that would go down. There is a freedom in that but also many challenges in making it real enough to identify with despite how alien and fantastic the idea is.

What books or authors have influenced you? How do you think that shows in your writing?

Dragonriders of Pern introduced sentient dragons and the idea that despite a vast difference in species there could be teamwork and love between the two as they teamed up against a greater threat.

The herald-mage books by Mercedes Lackley were also important staples in my childhood because it impressed the values of responsibility despite having powers others did not, and that people were fallible despite greatness and potential.

Gandalara Cycle by Randall Garrett and Vicki Ann Heydron: I cannot tell you how often I read this story. I had dog ears on these novels because there was so much I loved about them. It was a search for humanity when displaced in a seemingly alien world, societal clashes, and the great sha’um (the giant rideable cats) that were the main characters’ partners for life.

The Enchanted Forest Chronicles by Patricia C Wrede: A princess rebels against her arranged marriage by running away to be a dragon princess.

All of these books had creatures in it that chose to partner with a human and be with them for life, not as lovers that you find in the more modern supernatural romance blender out there, but the ultimate friend for life— the family you choose.

Do people in your everyday life know you write fanfiction?

Oh heck no. Hah. They have their secrets, and I have mine. Personally, I think mine are more healthy than theirs.

How true for you is the notion of "writing for yourself"?

Very.

I write for myself. Sometimes I’ll write a story for one of my betas or a sshg friend, but for the most part, I write for my own entertainment because nothing like what I write is out there. There is a lot of SSHG out there, but mine is almost always a creature feature story. I blame X-Files growing up. It tickles me that others enjoy my stories, but in the end I write to get things down and out of my head. They just so happen to entertain others as they do me.

How important is it for you to interact with your audience? How do you engage with them? Just at the point of publishing? Through social media?

I will often engage in A/N talk at the end of chapters, but I really don’t engage in the fandom. I loathe social media. That being said, I read every review, and while I don’t reply to everything because FF dot net is a horrible platform for messaging anymore (or ever was really)-- I appreciate every single one. Sometimes it helps to know people are enjoying the story for the story’s sake.

What is the best advice you've received about writing?

Get a beta, even if you are pretty good at writing. Get one because a second pair of eyes will catch things you don’t. Read your own stuff out loud. If you trip over it, your audience will too. If you stumble, so will they.

Get a beta who isn’t afraid to tell you that your shite stinks in places and you make no sense. You may want a cheerleader, but what you need is a beta. If you are super lucky, you can have both at once.

What do you do when you hit writer's block?

I play computer games and sew things. I’ve sewn a lot of things lately. Scrub caps and masks for work—

There has been a lot of writer’s block lately due to the times, and I will not write when I’m uninspired. I will not force inspiration. That’s not fair to me or those unfortunate enough to share in the reading. I want to be able to go back on a story I wrote and enjoy it and not curse at myself. XD

Has anything in real life trickled down into your writing?

Sometimes certain catch phrases and things from real life friends have trickled in as a sort of Easter egg (unbeknownst to them since I don’t tell them I write fanfic). Sometimes random news stories or whatnot find their way in. Lessons of the day. Random events. Things that are too odd not to stick in my brain somehow. I can’t say I always do it on purpose, though.

Do you have any stories in the works? Can you give us a teaser?

No, I have a goal this year to finish off the unfinished stories. This is made harder because Dragon and the Rose keeps adding more and more bunnies into the idea bin, and my brain wants to run with them, but I’m like NO DANGIT, I HAVE STUFF TO FINISH STILL! It’s a hard thing trying to finish what you start when so much interesting stuff pops up and waves at you like “heeeeeyyyyy I’m cool too!”

Any words of encouragement to other writers?

Keep writing but remember you can always be better. You can always improve. Writing isn’t a popularity contest. It isn’t about how many reviews you get or how many fans you may or may not have. Write because you want to write. Write what you like not what other people like. Write for you because in the end, you are the one who goes back to read it and say “I wrote this story, and I still love it” instead of forcing yourself to write something just because the topic is “popular” and gets a lot of visitors. Write something you’ll be proud to go back and read and enjoy. You’ll find when you write something genuinely, readers will come. And if only one person leaves you a paragraph review on how much your story meant to them out of someone else’s hundreds of “great!” (with nothing else)-- think of what you value more.

If my story helped someone through a dark time.

Just one person—

Then it was a good effort.

Maybe that person didn’t have the bravery to leave a message. Maybe they are ashamed. Maybe they send you a PM instead of a review.

That is, to me, the ultimate reason why I realised that despite writing stories for myself that there are people out there that needed to hear my story at just the right time in their life. If my story can bring a little joy to someone else, then it doesn’t matter how many reviews I have. It doesn’t matter that I don’t have thousands of reviews like “that other author.” What matters is that I told my story; someone out there read it and it spoke to them.

I love hearing from people and what they liked about my stories, but I also am glad that there are some people out there who secretly like my stories but do not feel safe enough to review.

So, I would say to the aspiring author: write for yourself but share it. You never know whose day you will make with your story. They may never tell you. They may tell you years later (happened to me!). There is a good chance that someone out there needs your story as much as you need to write it. That being said, find yourself a beta to share your journey with you. You may find a few friend in the process.

Thanks so much for giving us your time.

You are quite welcome.

#fanfiction #fanfic #ss/hg #snamione #writing

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jawnkeets · 4 years

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How are you so clever??? I’m new to your blog and I’ve been looking at your posts (not in a stalkery way but because they’re so cool) and you seem super intelligent! Like you always reference things I’ve never heard of and use fancy words and it’s just really awesome. How did you get so clever? Do you read a lot or are you just naturally clever? If it’s from reading then what books would you recommend to someone who’s interested in literature and also broadening their general knowledge? Thanks

awwww. well thanks for the lovely ask!! this is way too much detail bc i’m procrastinating work but

i read a ton as a kid, mostly horror books - i was obsessed with the supernatural, and especially vampires, and the idea of things changing into other things (in a magical way, but also stories where characters develop and end up very different, tales of betrayal etc). my favourite series when i was little was the spiderwick chronicles, followed a little later by the saga of darren shan. i didn’t read any classic literature at all though, as i’d decided i hated it for some reason. as a kid i always prided myself on my creativity/ imagination rather than my intelligence (it’s a distinction i’d always drawn and still do after a fashion), but i was and have always been obsessive, and also used to sit and play memory games for hours, too; i remember one where i’d have a list of cards and i’d put one down, say what it was, turn it over, add another one, say what the previous one and this one was, turn them over, and continue until i couldn’t remember every single card in order, and then i’d start again. i wrote a lot, especially poetry, and used a thesaurus often because i loved words. i had a very very vivid imagination and refused to live in the real world until the age of about 11 or 12. then from 14 onwards i read almost nothing (apart from like idk two of the hunger games books) until i was 17, when i finally started reading classic literature, triggered by the great gatsby, which changed my attitude to learning completely. until then i’d despised secondary school partly because of the way learning was presented (i got good grades at gcse but went through the syllabus and exams mechanically with little genuine love) and partly for… other reasons, and had almost given up on taking academics seriously. but i got very lucky and had an incredible english teacher throughout sixth form, who encouraged me to take risks and break from methodical, formulaic writing. at the end of the first essay i had to do for him i still remember that he wrote ‘literature is for you. now and always. carry on.’ at the bottom, and that changed my life. he also introduced me to philip larkin and romantic poetry outside of class. after that, i was gripped by the desire to read and discover as much about the humanities as i could, make links between works, discover new ones, recover the feeling that i was possessed by after finishing gatsby. tumblr genuinely helped with art, literature quotes, and making it all seem accessible, e.g. seeing text posts making jokes about shakespeare, keats, etc helped to demystify a bit. yes, dark academia, i’m also looking at you for making learning seem exciting, but tentatively and with narrowed eyes. general knowledge-wise, it helped me to begin to break down the barriers between ‘subjects’ at school (even if you’ve left school, it’s pretty branded into our brains); they’re sometimes very fuzzy and even arbitrary, and to separate into strictly-defined categories like this is not the only way learning can or should happen.

a work that i thoroughly recommend to everyone who asks where to start is letters to a young poet by rainer maria rilke. he relates so perfectly this idea that the first step is to let yourself be filled with how amazing and vast the world is, and how much there is to read, listen to, and see. that’s not something you can learn from reading, and it’s not something you can be taught by anyone (unless being inspired by someone counts). it’s instrumentally important because it will drive you, but i also think it’s inseparable from understanding (and to me, it is understanding, just understanding without the right words yet). this is the highlight, and it was the mantra stuck up on my wall at 17 when i decided i wanted to learn, and learn seriously:

Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.

i was relatively articulate before i started reading the classics/ reading widely, but not exceptionally articulate. here’s an example of two essay openings - one i wrote when i was 16, and one i wrote during my first term at university (2 years apart):

i’d say that since then my essays have probably improved by a similar proportion, as i’m as embarrassed to read the second as i was the first when i wrote the second, and the typos r annoying me (am too embarrassed to post recent writing :’( - doesn’t count if over a year and a half ago, hence posting the second :p). obviously, then, this isn’t natural intelligence (everyone has to get knowledge, big words, etc from somewhere, right?), this is natural receptivity and willingness to learn, which i genuinely believe anyone can gain at any point, coupled with A LOT of reading the opinions of others (i.e. literary criticism and theory), and reading literature from many different periods to discover how language is moulded by individual poets and by ‘eras’ more widely. but this is also synthesising everything i absorb into a personal vision (this is the hill i will die on soz i don’t think theory should be ‘objective’ like what does that even mean). you can and should put yourself into it!

in terms of what to read - if you like the rilke (really hope you do!!) then depending on what you like about it, you can search from there. try some of rilke’s poetry. or if you like that ineffable feeling it brings, try the romantics (keats’ ‘ode to a nightingale’ and blake’s songs of innocence and experience are good to start with!), or larkin’s ‘high windows’ and ‘the mower’. also try shakespeare’s hamlet, because that is INCREDIBLE (watching it is always easier, and the more shakespeare you watch/ read the easier it gets! andrew scott’s hamlet is the best imo). from there it’s a question of asking what you liked about what you just read (time period/ vibe/ themes/ subject/ style of writing) and finding things similar - often google works and i made use of it a lot to start with, tumblr too, otherwise ask people who you know (on the internet/ teachers/ friends etc). this is a personal journey, especially to begin with, i think (you have to jump in somewhere), and there’s no one who can give you a list of books to read in the order best for you, because - annoyingly, i know - that’s something it’s best if each individual works out through trial and error, and part of the fun in truth. there are western canon lists out there, e.g., which contain some fabulous works, but have very obvious problems.

a really really rough chronological development of english lit: beowulf, any of the canterbury tales, hamlet, paradise lost, pope’s satire, romantic poetry, victorian novels (e.g. david copperfield, jane eyre), the waste land, waiting for godot (it would also help to read the iliad, the aeneid, and metamorphoses too, and as much of the bible as you can, especially genesis, exodus, isaiah, job, and the gospels, but genesis and the gospels first if ur stuck/ overwhelmed). this is the lightest of pencil sketches, but if they’re works that go some way towards defining each ‘era’ or ‘period’, then it becomes a little easier to search for works branching off from these that are influenced by or chafe against them. you can always come back to me if you’re struggling with what to look for next :+) also, i have a list of my poetry favs, if you want to check that out (it includes the stuff mentioned in the previous paragraph, as well as others).

hope this helps (?!) ❤️

#asks

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llucy-san · 4 years

Text

CHARACTER STUDY

Tagged by lovely @pd3 ❤️ and maybe someone else but.... 🤷‍♀️

@faithchel @ja-crispea @smithandrogers @shelliechen @v3ryvelvet @veinereastath @dieguzguz @f0xyboxes @fadedjacket @risenlucifer @tomexraider @fromathelastoveritaserum @goodboiboomer-fc5 @geronimo-11

I made it as my OC's would answer this ask game, so go ahead and read if you want to know more about them or how they interact.

LAYER 01: THE OUTSIDE

NAME: Hope Amelia Lansdowne but Hope is enough.

EYE COLOUR: It's mix of blue and green, but more of blue.

HAIR STYLE / COLOUR: Long, wavy blond hair, but I like to comb it into a bun or a ponytail.

HEIGHT: 5′6″

CLOTHING STYLE: I usually wear comfortable things like T-shirts, pants, combat boots and of course my military jacket. But you won't find anything fancy like dress in my closet.

BEST PHYSICAL FEATURE: *shrugs* Don't know, whole body i guess. I'm trying to be fit.

LAYER 02: THE INSIDE

FEAR: Lose the ones I love.

GUILTY PLEASURE: I got drunk once so hard with mates, Sharky and Hurk that you don't even want to know where we woke up the next day. A week after our little meeting, I felt still little dizzy. But I would never trade my two to ride and die. NEVER.

BIGGEST PET PEEVE: My plane!! You can look at it but don't touch it.

AMBITIONS FOR THE FUTURE: Live life to the fullest and enjoy every moment with our loved ones.

LAYER 03: THOUGHTS

FIRST THOUGHTS WAKING UP: Glaring at those little numbers on my alarm clock and whisper “I hate you” but then *sighs* I remember all the things that awaits me that day and somehow, I get out of bed.

WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT MOST: If I will have the strength to get up the next day.

WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT BEFORE BED: My baby!! I usually fall into bed and instantly fall asleep.

WHAT THEY THINK THEIR BEST QUALITY IS: My flying skills and maybe my humour. There is nothing better than being sarcastic to someone who you don’t like. Or if I won fight over men twice my size.

LAYER 04: EITHER OR

SINGLE OR GROUP DATES: I don't do dates, and quite frankly, I don't even have time for it. But if I have to choose, I prefer single.

TO BE LOVED OR RESPECTED: Can't I choose both? I think they're both corresponding.

BEAUTY OR BRAINS: Brains, definitely.

DOGS OR CATS: Both, take a look at Bommer and Peaches. They're both so adorable.

LAYER 05: DO THEY

LIE: Who hasn't? I try to be honest but sometimes some situations requires it.

BELIEVE IN THEMSELVES: What kind of bloody question is that? *frowns* Of course, I believe in myself.

BELIEVE IN LOVE: If you meet the right one, go ahead. Though, I was not so lucky.

WANT SOMEONE: Why are you asking? You offer?

LAYER 06: HAVE THEY

BEEN ON STAGE: Nope.

DONE DRUGS: Sharky has a lot of stuff, but I keep my hands off it, so no.

CHANGED WHO THEY WERE TO FIT IN: I don't need to pretend in front of anyone to fit in. I am who I am and I will never force myself.

LAYER 07: WHAT'S THEIR

FAVORITE COLOR: Don't have one.

FAVORITE ANIMAL: Wolves, I adores them.

FAVORITE BOOK: *shrugs* I don't read much, but when I do, I read what's first hand.

FAVORITE GAME: If you consider games where you drink a lot, then yes. *shifts in her seat* Hey, you should come to Spread Eagle with me sometimes and we can play our drinking games. Hurk will bring his liquor he got from many journeys he survived and Mary will make her famous cocktails.

LAYER 08: AGE

DAY THEIR NEXT BIRTHDAY WILL BE: 24th September

HOW OLD THEY WILL BE: 25

LAYER 09:

I LOVE: Flying, I have flying in my blood, or just being in lap of nature.

I FEEL: *sighs* Tired of your questions.

I HIDE: My bourbon! You wouldn't believe how hard it is for me to bring it here unseen. Especialy from Sharky cause he will drink anything he can see.

I MISS: My parents. I didn't get a chance to say goodbye with them one last time or go to their funeral.

I WISH: To be done with this so I could go.

LAYER 01: THE OUTSIDE

NAME: Marcus Adam Lansdowne but Marcus is fine.

EYE COLOUR: Blue

HAIR STYLE / COLOUR: Short-cut blond, short on the sides and up here *combing his hair* I have to comb it back or hold it with something, usually cap helps me.

HEIGHT: 6′1″

CLOTHING STYLE: T-shirts, pants but also something elegant like suits. But I wear them only at special occasions.

BEST PHYSICAL FEATURE: Arms, for sure. But Avery, my wife, will tell you something else.

LAYER 02: THE INSIDE

FEAR: My family above all. All I have left is my sister and my loving wife. So if you so much as look at both of them in the wrong way, *leanes closer in his seat* then, you and I have a problem, mate.

GUILTY PLEASURE: You would believe me but singing while playing on my guitar.

BIGGEST PET PEEVE: When I lose something and Avery or Hope says, "Well, where was the last place you had it?" Seriously? That's being helpful? If I knew the last place I had it, it wouldn't be lost, now would it?

AMBITIONS FOR THE FUTURE: I don't know. I have everything I need and don't need anything else.

LAYER 03: THOUGHTS

FIRST THOUGHTS WAKING UP: Time in the army taught me to get up early so, next question.

WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT MOST: Family

WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT BEFORE BED: What kind of question is this? *frowns* The bed equals rest. What else should I think about? Oh you mean. *clears his throat* Next one.

WHAT THEY THINK THEIR BEST QUALITY IS: Strength, devotion, intellect.

LAYER 04: EITHER OR

SINGLE OR GROUP DATES: I don't know what you want from me anymore.

TO BE LOVED OR RESPECTED: Respect from others and love from family.

BEAUTY OR BRAINS: Brains.

DOGS OR CATS: Dogs.

LAYER 05: DO THEY

LIE: I hate it when people lie to my face, but I'm not an innocent either.

BELIEVE IN THEMSELVES: Yes, I do.

BELIEVE IN LOVE: Yes

WANT SOMEONE: *quirks his eyebrows* I'm hapilly married. Avery is only one I want.

LAYER 06: HAVE THEY

BEEN ON STAGE: No

DONE DRUGS: Never in my life.

CHANGED WHO THEY WERE TO FIT IN: No.

LAYER 07: WHAT'S THEIR

FAVORITE COLOR: Dark blue, black, dark green.

FAVORITE ANIMAL: Wolves, dogs, I don't know.

FAVORITE BOOK: I don't know, but the last time I read something was by Faulkner.

FAVORITE GAME: Hope once took me to one of their gatherings in Falls End and it didn't go so well. Although, I had fun like never before, but I have never had such hangover in my life. And I have to warn you about Sharky's home-made liquor. Strong as hell.

LAYER 08: AGE

DAY THEIR NEXT BIRTHDAY WILL BE: 2nd February

HOW OLD THEY WILL BE: 33

LAYER 09:

I LOVE: Enjoying days with my family and friends or spending time in the woods.

I FEEL: Fine

I HIDE: Nothing you need to know about.

I MISS: Parents. I miss them very much.

I WISH: To stop asking me these odd questions.

LAYER 01: THE OUTSIDE

NAME: Hayley Louise Moore but friends calls me Hale.

EYE COLOUR: Olive green

HAIR STYLE / COLOUR: Semi-long chocolate hair and at the ends it turns into soft waves.

HEIGHT: 5′5″

CLOTHING STYLE: It's usually a blouse and a pencil skirt, but also a dress. But what I love most are my sweaters and sweatpants, which I wear in the late evenings while reading books.

BEST PHYSICAL FEATURE: I run around the docks every morning so I'd say legs. Nature here isn't like in Atlanta or New Orleans, but it's much more beautiful.

LAYER 02: THE INSIDE

FEAR: *laughs* Well, my husband's flying. Like, I'm not afraid of flying, but the last time he took me with him and he did his wild stunts like front flips or whatever he calls it, I almost killed him after we landed. I'm not kidding. *shift in her lovechair* Affirmination and I are not friends.

GUILTY PLEASURE: Dancing while vacuuming or cleaning the ranch.

BIGGEST PET PEEVE:

AMBITIONS FOR THE FUTURE: Seeing my kids grow up into the wonderful adults we're with John trying to raise.

LAYER 03: THOUGHTS

FIRST THOUGHTS WAKING UP: New day new beginning. Morning is my favourite time of day.

WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT MOST: Kids, Family, you know stuff like this.

WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT BEFORE BED: Sleep, only sleep, and maybe something else, *whisper while leaning closer* but that's not appropriate.

WHAT THEY THINK THEIR BEST QUALITY IS: My persuasive skills. I always get what I want because I learned from the best, I know.

LAYER 04: EITHER OR

SINGLE OR GROUP DATES: Single, certainly single. Actually I think I've never been to a group dates before.

TO BE LOVED OR RESPECTED: Both

BEAUTY OR BRAINS: Brains. No matter how handsome or beautiful you are, I care how you will deal with difficult situations so I choose brains.

DOGS OR CATS: Cats

LAYER 05: DO THEY

LIE: Not often, but only here and there.

BELIEVE IN THEMSELVES: Yep.

BELIEVE IN LOVE: I do.

WANT SOMEONE: Why are you asking? Only my husband.

LAYER 06: HAVE THEY

BEEN ON STAGE: Nope

DONE DRUGS: No, it will completely destroy your brain.

CHANGED WHO THEY WERE TO FIT IN: I've never been able to pretend who I'm not, so no.

LAYER 07: WHAT'S THEIR

FAVORITE COLOR: I don't have a favourite colour, but my wardrobe mostly consists of soft colours and black and white combination.

FAVORITE ANIMAL: Cats because of their eyes.

FAVORITE BOOK: Fitzgerald. I love Great Gatsby.

FAVORITE GAME: I don't play games much. I'm not very good at them.

LAYER 08: AGE

DAY THEIR NEXT BIRTHDAY WILL BE: 15th August

HOW OLD THEY WILL BE: 27

LAYER 09:

I LOVE: Watching my husband cook, because have you seen someone like him work around in the kitchen? *glances behind her shoulder* I just adore him.

I FEEL: Good

I HIDE: My cookies!! Listen, I love Jacob, he is my favourite brother in law but he always eats almost everything on plate before I can. I have to be fast if I want at least one or two cookies from Faith.

I MISS: Every now and then I miss my life in Atlanta and my best friend Nadia. *sighs* God, you should meet her, you’d love her.

I WISH: To have at least one of those delicious cookies cause my brother in law just came so if you don't mind I will go.

#oc ask thing #oc asks #oc hope amelia lansdowne #oc markus adam lansdowne #oc hayley moore #fc5oc #Thank you for tagging me ❤️#my oc's

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purplesurveys · 3 years

Text

1069

survey by dragonov

What is your favourite dinosaur? I’ve never been into dinosaurs... I’ve always found the T-Rex costume that goes viral every now and then absolutely hilarious, though.

Would you rather live with wolves or tigers? Wolves.

Have you ever forgotten what a certain kind of pain felt like? I have only gone through the loss of an immediate family member once. Of course my grandpa’s death will always make me feel as sad as I was on the day that I found out; but it’s been a while since I’ve been hit with news that heavy. I don’t quite remember the feeling of being slapped in the face with such a tragic update, and I’m not looking forward to the next time.

Do you prefer water from the tap or bottled water? Bottled. We can’t drink tap water here; though some rich households will put some fancy purifier thing hooked to their sink so that they can drink ‘tap.’

Do you actually use any of the shampoo hotels provide? Yeah haha. We always buy the same products at home and it gets boring, so it’s fun to try out and experiment with the different shampoos and body washes provided in the hotels we stay in.

What do you remember the most about your childhood? My cousins, siblings, and I largely alternated among three channels - Disney, Nickelodeon, and Cartoon Network every day. We would also play outside from around 5-6 PM. It was the same, simple routine every weekday, but we were happy kids nonetheless. Also, watching wrestling every single day, back when it was a lot bloodier.

Do you feel as if someone has robbed something from you? I feel like it would be selfish of me to claim this, since I never like to point fingers...but this does feel like the case when it comes to a few people.

Have you ever stared at the sky and wondered if it was all worth it? I get into such a mood at least once a month. I just did this last Monday.

Would you rather have a pet dinosaur or have mythical creatures be real? Erm, neither. I’m wary of dinosaurs’ temperaments and I’m not too fond of mythical creatures.

What age did you get your first hair cut? I think I was around 3.

Do you have a favourite toy from childhood still? I didn’t even get to keep any of them. I knew I had a favorite cash register, toy laptop, and Blue’s Clue’s toy telephone, but my mom threw each of them out the older I got.

What are your thoughts on the end of the world? I personally wouldn’t have a problem with it as I don’t think much about existentialism and things like that. I’d be more concerned with people panicking and panic-buying all over the place, and the possibility of the end of the world being hugely destructive. If it ever does happen, I wish it’d come calmly.

Which sports do you enjoy watching? Wrestling, tennis, and volleyball. Sometimes basketball when my university’s team is playing lol, but I never understood the different rules. I love playing table tennis, but I never particularly enjoyed watching the sport.

Would you ever have a breed of dog that is considered aggressive? Like pitbulls? Yeah, for sure. I personally do not like chihuahuas though.

Have you ever made bread? I think...we have?? In home ec?? Back in Grade 6? I have a vivid memory of playing around with yeast and dough, but I no longer remember if it had been bread we ended up making. I do remember making rainbow cake, apple pie, and macarons from that year though, so it’s likely we also made bread.

Would your childhood self be disappointed? I say this a lot, but she would probably be surprised I’m still here. She’d also be surprised I managed to be in a long-term relationship, regardless of its failure. One of my biggest worries as a kid was that no one would ever like me, and I was so certain I’d end up being single forever lol.

Do you think in the future you'll have done yourself proud? God I don’t know. I hope so.

Did you read The Great Gatsby before seeing the movie? I have done neither. Idk if it’s my kind of content.

What do you feel about movies made from books? I wish the entertainment industry would take them more seriously. There are hits, of course - like how Harry Potter fans seem to like both books and movies - but there are misses that have been embarrassing like the Percy Jackson movie adaptation. But idk, I have a bigger bone to pick with other movie types (aka live-action adaptions of Disney animated classics lmao), so movies made from books aren’t much of an issue with me.

Has anything ever fallen asleep on you? A few dogs here and there. My ex also used to.

Do you have to use the bathroom? Not at the moment, no.

Is the above question too invasive? Not even remotely. I’ve encountered more intense questions on surveys.

What do you feel about surgeries? Do they worry you? Ugh, yep. I hope I’ll never need one. Needles just freak me out.

Do you have a tumblr? :))

Would you rather have an open book shelf or one with doors? Open. If I had an impressive collection of anything, I’d want to show it off.

Do you need a large or small place to live comfortably? Large. I get uncomfortable if I’m in a small room for too long, which is why I have to take work breaks every now and then and leave my room (which doubles as my workspace) just to pace around the house and play with the dogs for a little while.

Would you ever consider moving to another country? Yeah, but I’d prefer an area with a considerable English-speaking population, practicality-wise. I feel that a language barrier would just stress me out and would keep me from getting fully excited about being in a foreign land.

Have you ever dropped everything and reevaluated? That’s what the last three months have been about, haven’t they?

Do you play minecraft? if so, feelings about servers? No I don’t play Minecraft, though I did use to watch Pewdiepie’s Let’s Plays of it haha.

Do you long for easier times? Not always. But this is where I’m at right now, given how tough life has been for me in the last few months. I just want a break, no matter how tiny.

Do you believe that life gets easier or we just get stronger? The latter. At least, that’s what I tell myself to cheer myself up and to encourage myself to keep going.

Does it weird you out to think that humans are just more advanced animals? It fascinates me, it doesn’t weird me out.

Do you ever wonder why religion came about? I have no clue. I’d love to learn why.

Would you ever consider shaving your head? If it was for a cause that’s close to my heart, this would be no problem at all.

Would you rather belong to a cult or a religion you feel is wrong? I guess religion? so I could at least get out of it. Also, I’ve already personally abandoned the religion I was baptized in because it never felt like a good fit, so this is coming from experience.

Have you ever considered murder? Never.

Kill a man or a woman? Again, no.

Would you like to live in a realm where the zombie apocalypse is possible? Nope.

Are you afraid of any animals? Reason? Wild animals likely to chase or attack humans, because duh. And cockroaches, because everything about them is just bleck.

Someone knocks on your door three times right now, do you answer? I’d tell them to come in, yeah.

Do you read creepypastas? Not really. It was never a pastime of mine when I was younger either.

Can you sleep afterwards? I can, but I won’t. It’s only 5:20 and I’ve still got 40 minutes until the end of my shift. I also want to hang around with my family after work, so.

#survey #surveys

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bensboynton · 5 years

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the bookshop on the corner b.h

this request was originally a blurb but then i wrote a few thousand words and it turned to a fic. so. oops?

WC: 3.3k

warnings: none besides typos!! only ONE curse word.

John Green once said, “As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, then all at once.”

And as a hopeless romantic, Y/N has wished since the original publication of the novel said quote appeared in (The Fault in Our Stars; one of her more modern favorites) that she could relate. In even the slightest!

Although, it was quite hard being a hopeless romantic who had absolutely zero men who were even slightly interested in her, zero social skills, and zero opportunity to fall in love with anybody.

Until today.

Y/N works at a bookshop in the corner of a quiet East Sussex street, in a town called Rye. The shop is squished between a small deli and a bland boutique that sells flowy shirts she swears she’s seen her grandmother wear on a few occasions.

The store itself is quaint and small; an absolutely staggering number of seven whole bookshelves filled to the brim with words, a lounging area, and her desk where she also had an old cash register. Y/N often worked alone, as the owner had other businesses and placed almost all her trust in Y/N. The girl was completely okay with working alone.

Her routine was always the same; wake up at 6 am, get ready while dancing to whatever music she’d been listening to recently (you’d be surprised by how fast her music taste changes: just yesterday she was listening to Miley Cyrus and now she’s listening to various punk bands she discovered on the internet). She’d then walk to the café that was exactly 95 steps away from the stoop of her apartment (give or take a few) and she’d spend around 20 minutes talking to the old woman who runs the place.

After stalling at the coffee shop, she makes her way across the street to the book shop where she works with one other person; the owner of the shop.

Y/N’s life is very monotone, and to other people, extremely boring. But not to her.

Y/N’s entire life exists in a 5 block radius of East Sussex. She goes to the grocery store sometimes, but that’s about as far away she gets from her apartment and she’s completely okay with that. She eats takeout a lot, anyways.

As pathetic as that sounds, this is probably the happiest Y/N has been in her entire life. Besides when she adopted her cat. That was a very close second in her book.

Y/N was completely satisfied with her life. She’d talk with the woman who owned the book store she lived in, would greet her mailman with a cheery smile every morning. She knew everybody and everybody knew her. She was friends--scratch that, acquaintances-- with everybody who was around her. And that’s how she liked it.

In fifth grade, Y/N was bright eyed and bushy tailed and ready to find a love like she saw in the movies her big sister watched on the TV all the time. While other kids her age were watching Finding Nemo, Y/N was watching Pretty Woman.

Then one day, Dale Erdelac, otherwise known as Y/N’s crush, asked her to be his girlfriend during lunch. She stood there with her mouth full of sharp metal braces and her heart full of adrenaline and butterflies. She said yes all too quickly.

Needless to say, Dale wasn’t serious. Y/N found out a few hours later that it wasn’t, in fact, a serious proposal. It was a dare from his snotty little friends. Y/N cried a lot more than she’d like to admit that day.

It would be completely immature and nonsensical if the only reason Y/N’s love life was so disappointing was because of a dumb mouth-breather in fifth grade. It’s not, but that’s definitely part of it.

Y/N has never truly been in love.

Her mom tries to tell her she has, but she knows she hasn’t. She dated a guy in high school for two years just to pass the time. She told him “I love you” and he said it back, but she didn’t feel love. She didn’t feel the speeding up of her heartbeat when she saw him, or the warmth that spreads across your chest when they laugh like the pretty girls talk about in the movies.

Her older sister, Peyton, tells her to move on a lot. “That fairytale love doesn’t exist,” she’d say, “it’s a creative outlet for fictional writers to display their nonsense dreams and desires. It can exist in your head, but never in real life.”

That’s what she said every time.

Y/N ignored her and kept on living her life in the small bubble of 5 blocks in Rye.

She was happy. She told herself that. No, she knew she was happy. She was secure! What else could she want in life?

And then he showed up.

The tiny bookstore in the corner of the block didn’t get a lot of visitors (although that could be easily inferred due to the description of the little community there). Y/N pretty much knew the name and story of every single person who stepped foot into the shop.

Until one day, she didn’t anymore.

It was a cold January day; not the kind where the wind pierces your skin like daggers. It was the kind of cold that felt dry; like it was sucking the water out of your body through your skin and leaving behind a red numbness in its wake.

A man walked in. He was tall and blonde, muscular and carried a chaotically calming energy. His eyes raked over the book store slowly, as if he was trying to imprint the old wooden rocking chairs and chipped bookshelves in his mind forever.

It was like every move he made had a perfectly logical purpose.

Y/N watched him intently from across the room, hidden by a pile of books she’d been meaning to put away for more than an hour now. She was so intrigued by him it made her stomach do a backflip. This was unusual for her.

As soon as the man started looking her way, she looked down into the book sitting open on her lap, scrambling to pretend she was deep in thought over the passage she was reading.

Her pupils glossed over the same paragraph three times, but she couldn’t comprehend a single word knowing he was in the same room as her.

“Excuse me?”

Y/N’s body jolted slightly due to the sudden sound of his deep voice. She was the only one in the bookshop at the moment, as the owner had gone home for the day and it was her turn to close up. The store was never populated by more than six people at a time, and it would be especially dead considering New Year’s Eve was two days ago.

“What can I help you with?” she spoke, mentally slapping herself for the way her voice sounded. It was pinched and sounded like a squeak. She cleared her throat desperately to return it to its normal sound.

“I’m looking for a book.”

“What kind of book?”

“Well... that’s what I need your help with.”

She smiled as an involuntary blush made its way to her already rosy cheeks, “I think I can help you.”

She stood up and walked from behind the desk, beckoning the tall blonde man to go with her. The pair made their way to the bookshelves in awkward and palpable silence. The girl was panicking- she had no idea what to say.

“I was wondering if you had any recommendations?” The Brit added to the nonexistent conversation.

Y/N thought for a moment, “...well, I’m not sure what kind of person you are, but I recommend any classic literature to people who ask.”

“Does the type of person I am happen to determine the type of books I like?”

“It’s the only thing that determines what type of books you like.”

The girl turned around, her fingers lightly dancing over the spines of the books as she walked. The tall man was on her heels, seemingly just as intrigued by her and she was with him.

“Of course we have Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, To Kill A Mockingbird, Wuthering Heights, and of course, my favorite of all time, The Great Gatsby.” She was picking out the books from their places on the shelves that she had memorized over her six years of working here. She knew the placement of books and authors like the back of her hand.

The man gazed at the pile of books in her arms thoughtfully, before meeting her eyes. “I’ll take it.”

“Which one?”

“All of them.”

She grinned at his eagerness.

After ringing up his books and a slight burst of confidence, Y/N was able to discover the man’s name and his reason for suddenly buying four books two days after New Year’s Eve.

Ben (a name she thought suited him particularly well) was starting a New Year’s Resolution; read one book a month. He confided in her his self-doubt on his ability, but with a small grin, she said she believed in him. His smile grew as he picked up the bag and left.

Y/N could’ve cursed herself into oblivion for not getting his number.

The girl walked across the street that next morning, balancing a coffee and a copy of the newest book that had arrived at the store.

That was one of the best perks of her job, she thought. Access to the newest stories. While she pondered the last chapter she had read of her book, a blonde head of hair in the distance caught her eye.

“Excuse me?” a very familiar voice spoke. Y/N’s cheeks almost immediately flushed at those two words. Deja Vu.

“You’re back!” she spoke, almost as to question why. It’s not often someone new comes back twice, much less is standing at the door before she even gets there.

“I am,” he spoke breathily, scratching the back of his neck, “I wanted to come back to... well...” he trailed off, eyes dancing to the floor.

Y/N waited patiently for him to say what he meant to (she knew that’s what she’d want if she was in his shoes).

“I needed to get your name, at least. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t.”

The girl bit the inside of her cheek to stop her mouth from stretching into a grin that was a mile long. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as she stared at her shoes for a moment.

She made direct eye contact with Ben’s hazel eyes and smiled, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose slightly.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, his eyes going hazy as he thought about it.

Ben followed her inside and sat down next to her desk quickly, almost as if he was afraid he’d run out of time.

“I read The Great Gatsby yesterday... you said that one was your favorites, right?”

Y/N nodded, taking a delicate sip from the paper cup of coffee still in her hand.

“Right. Well. I have a few questions.”

Y/N nodded vigorously. She could practically feel the twinkle in her eye, “I’m all ears.”

Y/N went home that day with a swarm of butterflies making a home in the pits of her stomach. Ben had spent the better part of four hours with her, discussing the book he read and many, many other things.

When Ben left the shop that day, she had learned that his favorite color was clear (he thought it made him quirky) and he had a dog named Frankie. Y/N saw quite a few pictures of Frankie that day. She was a cat person, but she couldn’t tell if it was the dog or the way Ben’s eyes lit up when he talked about her that made her heart swell.

She also learned that Ben hated reading, and that he was mildly confused as to why he seemed to enjoy the Great Gatsby so much.

“It’s got to be because of you,” he mused, “I’ve never enjoyed reading a book until this one.”

Y/N also learned that Ben was an incredibly smooth talker.

He made her blush and giggle like a school-girl almost all day. It physically pained Y/N when she had to leave him alone to help a customer. She wished she could sit there and bask in him and all that he was.

Y/N wasn’t positive if love at first sight existed before, but now she hadn’t been more positive of anything in her entire life.

Y/N hadn’t had anyone new to talk to in years (she wishes that was an exaggeration).

So you could definitely imagine the girl’s surprise to see a young British man with a shared admiration for the Great Gatsby at the book shop again before opening time.

The day prior seemed to repeat itself. And then, every single day after that.

For three months, Ben would come to the book store and wait outside for Y/N to come and open up. And Y/N spent three weeks barely getting any sleep and talking to her cat about how excited she was to see Ben the next day.

Y/N and Ben got very close.

Insanely close.

So close to the point that Ben knew every single secret she had kept to herself. He knew the name of her first pet and childhood address (which she realized Ben could easily use to change the passwords on innumerable online shopping accounts).

Ben knew about the one time she had an allergic reaction to a medicine she was on when she was younger, and he even knew about fucking Dale. That was a story Y/N kept to herself. But she told Ben.

But this relationship was definitely not onesided. Y/N knew just about everything there was to know about Ben.

She knew the names of his childhood best friends and his favorite flavor of ice cream. She knew about the one time he got arrested when he was a teenager because he was lighting off fireworks in the street at 3 am. She also knew that Ben was an actor that was currently working on a new film. But she wanted to know even more.

Ben left every day at around 11:30. Y/N had no idea where he went or what he did, but he was never more than five minutes late before he stood up, gave her a big smile and left.

Y/N had never been in love before but she knew with every fiber of her being, with every bone, muscle, and cell in her body that she was in love with Ben.

And almost as soon as she realized this, there came some news.

Earth-shattering, heart-wrenching news.

He was leaving.

“I have to go back to the states to finish this film in three days,” he muttered into the quiet air of the book store he had grown so familiar with, “and I won’t be back for at least two months.”

Y/N could physically feel her heart drop in unison with the butterflies in her stomach. He was leaving, and there was nothing she could do to stop him.

She had given him a sad smile and taken a thoughtful sip of the tea sitting on her desk.

“Oh well. Guess I’ll see you in two months, right?”

"Yeah,” Ben said with a grimace, “right.”

The two of them spent those last few days talking quickly; trying to fit as many words into as little amount of time as possible. It felt like they were suffocating with how fast they were talking and how fast the conversation was moving. Her head would hurt at trying to process so many conversations and stories and little peccadilloes the pair were hurling at each other.

It was like they were making up for the time the two of them knew they were going to lose.

On Ben’s last day, Y/N told him of her fear of love and the lack thereof in her life. She told him of her strong desire to be able to relate to the John Green quote. He didn’t say much to that.

She was so in love with him. And she didn’t think he was in love with her.

His flight was at 1:00 that day. He left at noon instead of 11:30. Y/N felt her heartbeat increase as the seconds passed by for that last half hour, almost like she was genuinely frightened of him leaving.

He said goodbye with the first hug the pair ever shared and a light kiss to the top of the head. Y/N’s face was comparable to a fire hydrant.

Ben swore he would keep in contact, but with the differing time zones, Y/N knew deep down that wouldn’t happen.

So, with a heavy heart, she caught up on some things around the shop she had been slacking on these past few weeks.

She blinked away the tears in her eyes a few times, mentally shaming herself for being so upset this man she met three months earlier was leaving. She should’ve known. Or even better, she should’ve said something.

The girl watched in agony as the clock hit 1:00 that afternoon, and felt a pang in her chest as she thought of him jetting far, far, away from her.

He would never remember her. She was a quiet girl who worked in a quiet bookshop that was located in a quiet corner of an even quieter town. There was nothing she could do.

She started sweeping lazily, letting the broom lightly drag across the floor. She didn’t even acknowledge the fact that she wasn’t sweeping anything up.

She almost peed her pants, though, when a loud noise sounded throughout the otherwise empty bookshop and the door was thrown open the fastest it’s been in its entire life. So fast, in fact, that it fell off its hinges and onto the floor, simultaneously shattering the glass panes that made up the middle.

The girl stumbled backward in shock, her heart pumping not only because of the loud noise, but also because of the person who broke the door.

Ben.

The widest smile to ever adorn her pretty face was stretching across her lips. In an adrenaline filled moment, she was off the floor and in his arms. He was stiff and shocked at first, but almost immediately melted into her strangely warm embrace.

“What are you doing? Your flight was supposed to leave 15 minutes ago!” Y/N exclaimed, the confusion finally finding its way to her intricate brain.

“I-I couldn’t do it. Not without telling you something first.”

Y/N’s heart was beating so hard she swore he could see it pounding out of her chest like it does in the cartoons.

“There’s really no easy way to do this, but here goes nothing,” Ben spoke, clearing his throat, “Y/N, I know we haven’t known each other for that long but I really, really, really like y-”

Before the beautiful, perfect man could finish his sentence, Y/N was pushing her lips against his in a mad frenzy to release a tension that had been palpable for months.

Ben melted into the kiss faster than he melted into the hug, his lips moving against hers oh-so-perfectly.

It felt like they were made to be together.

It felt like Y/N had been searching for the final puzzle piece to her life for 27 years, and now here she was, standing in the middle of the bookshop on the corner with the glass door shattered on the floor, finally finishing her life-long puzzle.

“I think I love you.”

“I think I love you too,” she whispered into the quiet that had again settled over the bookstore.

Maybe Y/N didn’t fall in love while watching Ben read, as John Green said one of his characters did. But she did fall in love like she fell asleep.

Slowly, then all at once.

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tastelikesleepdeprivation · 5 years

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Domestic Human!Jack Headcanons featuring his three dads:

-Sam : no dessert after dinner, it will rot your teeth and we don’t have dental insurance because, legally, Dean and I are dead and Cas isn’t human so he can’t have insurance

-Cas: *sneaks Jack a cookie under the table during dinner, winks*

-Jack, with tears in his eyes, “thank,,”

Jack sneaking back into the bunker:

-Cas sitting in a chair and turns the lamp on: “where have you been?”

-Jack: “uhh with Dean”

-Dean, sitting in a chair next to Cas, turning on another lamp: “wanna try that again”

-Jack: “uhh with,, Sam?”

-Sam, in another chair next to Dean, turning on another lmap: “wanna try that AGAIN?”

-Jack likes it best when Dean cooks cause Cas can’t taste anything but “particles” so it’s always bland and Sam just can’t cook but Dean makes the best burgers Jack has ever tasted

-Jack sometimes has nightmares about Lucifer but if it’s a really bad one it’s about Dean, Cas, and Sam dying while Jack is standing by, unable to do anything cause he doesn’t have his powers and he wakes up panting and in a cold sweat with Cas right by his side because Cas doesn’t need sleep and will always be there to make sure to wake up Jack and comfort him during his night terrors

-Sam introduces Jack to books and tears up when Jack gets super excited about them because finally someone else who reads (not countering the literal one book Dean has read) and his favorite thing is sitting by Jacks bed side while reading The Wizard of Oz cause Sam told Jack all about their badass friend Charlie and her girlfriend Dorothy who saved all of them and Jack loves hearing about this apparently very real magical world

-Jack is actually really observant for his young age so when he sees Dean shuffling into the kitchen, scratching at his two week old beard with bags under his red rimmed eyes from fitful rest he announces a vacation day which Dean originally objects to but when Jack gets Cas and Sam on board he caves and so Dean hops in Baby with Sam to his right, Jack behind him and Cas behind Sam and they just drive. Dean puts on some classic Rock and Roll to “culture the kid right, Sammy” and they stop at some greasy diner and Dean laughs over his burger while Sam grumbles into his salad, Cas flashes his gummy smile and Jack hides his grin behind his drink and looks at his family and just living in the happiness he helped create and is a part of

-Dean got to be a father twice before technically but it never really felt like this. Never really felt like anything with Emma and while he got to be with Ben for a couple months it never felt permant, not like this, not like with Jack. So Dean cherishes every small moment he gets to teach and pass on something to Jack, whether it be through how to rile up Sam with a quick joke, or how to correctly wash and fold Cas’ trench coat, or do some work on Baby. Teach him something that doesn’t involve killing or hunting. Something normal, something a normal father would pass onto his son

-One of Jacks favorite occurrences between jobs is when Dean would cook all of them dinner and he would be wearing the apron Sam got for him as a joke (but secretly loves) and Dean would put on some music and would loudly sing along, shouting the lyrics while wildly waving the spatula in the air.

-Sometimes, Jack would pretend to be asleep when he would hear footsteps outside his door because he knew that Cas always comes and checks on him after he goes to bed. Cas carefully cracks open the door, and while Jack pretends to be asleep, Cas will put a gentle hand in his hair and place a chaste kiss on his forehead and Jack would wait until Cas pulls the door closed to smile into his covers

-Shopping with Sam was Jacks favorite. Sam usually did the shopping because Cas would forget the human stuff like tooth paste and toilet paper and Dean would buy pie instead of vegetables because he “forgot ‘em, sorry Sammy” so Sam always did the grocery shopping and would let Jack tag along, letting him get ONE candy (he always got nougat)

-Watching marathons with Dean is one of Jacks favorite passtimes because while Dean was a closeted chick flick watcher, Jack was an out and proud chick flick fanatic so both boys would sneak away for a night every so often when a new movie finally came out on Netflix

-One of Jacks favorite memories was when everyone went grocery shopping together when Jack was first turned human to find out what kind of foods he liked so he could have it available at the bunker, Dean grabbed the chips and junk food for him to try while Sam grabbed the fruits and vegetables, Cas gave his opinion now and then about what he rememberd from when he was human, especially his like of pb&js.

-Jack would go through bouts of insomnia to keep away the nightmares and this was the beginning of his midnight trips to the kitchen for snacks where he was joined sometimes by Sam but mostly Castiel which he preferred cause they would stay up late talking about the beginning of the universe and the thousands of years Cas has lived and what he has seen.

-When he turns One on May 18th, Dean, Sam, and Castiel decide to throw him a party, in their own way of course. Dean bakes the cake which is chocolate and has writing in icing on the top which says “baby’s first birthday” and they have streamers from toilet paper and first-aid gauze hung up all over the bunker. Sam gets him a new flannel so that he “can officially become part of the team” and a new book called The Great Gatsby which he can’t wait to start. Cas gets him a mixtape he made from all the songs he noticed Jack bobbing his head to when Dean would blast the radio. And Dean. Dean gets him a necklace. Not like the one Dean had, he told Jack all about the one Sam gave to him. But a necklace just for him that had the angels symbol for protection hand carved into the wood

-Sam is the first one to call Jack son to his face. Sam had just finished the last chapter of The Great Gatsby and Jack was crying because he thought that Gatsby didn’t deserve that kind of end to his life. Sam had closed the book, set it on the bedside table, wiped the tears from Jacks face, kissed him on the forehead and said “ it’s alright son, his story isn’t over, just moved to a new place”

-Cas first called him son on the night of one of Jacks worst night terrors. Jack heard screaming and woke up in a cold sweat to Cas at his side holding him close and whispering “I’m here, Jack, I’m here son, it was only a dream, I’m here” in his ear. Only until the screaming in his ears stopped did he realize it was coming from him and it wasn’t until he had fallen asleep on Cas’ shoulder from exhaustion and woken up the next morning to feel Cas still running his fingers through his hair did he notice that Cas called him son

-Sam and Cas had called Jack son early on and while Dean knew in his head and in his heart that Jack was his son he couldn’t say it to him. Experience and pain had taught him that once he said it, it would be real and so would the pain he will feel if, when, Jack gets hurt or killed. So he avoided it, calling him kid, kiddo, sport, and every other dumb nickname under the sun but still not that word until one hunt. It was supposed to be a normal job (famous last words, Winchester) until it went sideways and the werewolf got a claw into and up Jacks stomach. Only when Dean had shot the bastard in the chest until his gun was clicking empty did Dean fall to his knees next to Jack, holding his hands over the kids wound shouting at Sam to “hurry up and get the damn car!” Only when he looked at Jacks closed eyes and the shallow rise and fall of his chest and sees his pale face did he whisper for only Jacks ears “come on son, hold on. You gotta stay with me Jack, you gotta wake up son, you gotta wake up, you have to wake up”

-When Jacks hair starts curling around his ears does Sam decide to give him a haircut. Well, it was Sam at first until Dean grabbed the scissors and hip checked his brother out of the way saying “with your mane, I’m surprised you even noticed Jacks hair getting long. Move over, Sammy, I cut your hair for twelve years I’ll cut the kids hair”

-it’s Fourth of July and Dean insists on taking Jack to see the fireworks. One of Deans best memories is of him and Sammy shooting them off in some abandoned parking lot decades ago so he thought that he could give Jack a memory just as precious. Sam packs a picnic with some snacks and Castiel stuffs the impala with blankets. They drive out to the nearest town and set up shop in front of a closed grocery store across from the park where the towns show was set up to go off. Castiel hadn’t seen fireworks up close before so he was also excited. Jack was practically bouncing in his seat asking “ are they really made from fire?? How do they work??” And Sam and Dean would laugh and tell him they were really loud and colorful. When the fireworks officially started, Jack was terrified. It was so loud and he could feel the reverberations in his chest, they would come in no random order so he was suprised by the POPS. But after a while he was soon enraptured by the colors. Cas was just as enchanted by the way they would appear one moment and be gone the next. Jack and Cas loved the show so much they asked when the next one was and both were just as confused when Sam and Dean just laughed saying not until New Years

-Since they can’t exactly call a cleaning service to come and mop their underground bunker filled with weapons and proof of the supernatural, Sam established a chores list. Some chores depended on the day, like if Dean cooked he didn’t have to do the dishes but every person was given a chore, no matter what. Dean always grumbled but everyone knew he preferred a clean bunker. Cas would simply nod and go about his work, sometimes humming whilst doing so. Jack was just glad he had something to do that was of use to his family. And ironically, Sam was the one who forgot to do his chores most often

-whenever Jack manages to join the older three men on a hunt he always gets stuck in the back seat of the impala. Dean always drives, Sam always gets shotgun, Cas always sits behind Sam and Jack sits behind Dean. He doesn’t mind that much because on the truly long rides, the cross country rides, Cas lets him put his feet in his lap so he can lean against the door or sometimes he puts his head in Cas’ lap while Cas runs his fingers through his hair, falling asleep to the sound of the impalas engine rumbling, the quiet humming of the radio, and the muffled rapping of Deans thumbs on the steering wheel.

-Now that Jack is fully human, his body starts being fully human too which involves shaving. Sam pointed out his stubble first and offered to pick up razors and shaving cream next time he went to the store. Jacks first attempt at shaving began and ended quickly as he had no idea what to do, so he went to Cas. Cas,, tried. Being an angel and his vessel remaining the same he had no reason to shave (besides the one time after purgatory which still doesn’t make any sense) but he doesn’t know how to manually shave, just, angel shave. And that’s how Dean finds them later, in the bathroom both with their faces covered in shaving cream and staring at the razor like it would come alive and attack them. Dean chuckled but refrained from making a joke and helped to teach both boy and angel how to shave.

-Cas’ signature Pat of Reassurance is on Jacks shoulder. He’ll just hold his hand there on Jacks shoulder for a couple seconds longer than necessary, pat twice and then walk away. Sams signature Pat of Reassurance is on Jacks head or the back of his neck. Most of the time it’s a solid weight, a comforting weight but sometimes it will be a playful weight, a ‘you did something good and this is how I show it’ weight. Deans signature Pat of Reassurance is on Jacks back, right inbetween his shoulder blades. Most of the time it’s more of a slap than a pat but when it really counts, when Jack yearns for a physical sign of a reassurance, Dean always seems to know and just holds his hand steady

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weapon13whitefang · 5 years

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in the talking dead for the quiz they say that the box Michonne had, the things inside was inspired by To Kill a Mockingbird.If you've read the book the the Mockingbird represents someone innocent that has been injured or destroyed by evil(in the book Boo Radley,Tom Robinson,etc.) ( in the show I guess Rick can be a representation but mostly Beth in my eyes) considering the comparison of beth and birds lately, I would love to hear your opinion

Sorry it’s taken me awhile to answer you! I wasn’t ignoring you, I just had to find a way to really think about what you were asking and about the source material.

First off, I don’t watch Talking Dead anymore. I don’t have much like for Chris Hardwick after all the stuff I’ve learned about him and all the stuff that’s been proven… Yeah I just can not watch Talking Dead without wanting to throw something at Hardwick… You know I don’t much trust ya when I won’t even watch for my favorite actors on the show… I don’t know, maybe he really didn’t do the crap that was said but… I’m not seeing any evidence against it… So I don’t watch Talking Dead.

That said, I have gotten a break down of stuff that was talked about. And I gritted through a few scenes of it to listen to my favorite actors talk… And let me just say that, yes. I know the book To Kill A Mockingbird. I don’t know if it’s just a Midwestern school thing, but for most Missouri kids I know, To Kill A Mockingbird was one of those books you read every year until senior year. The first time I read the book was in fifth grade, over fifteen years ago… I can still recall how I felt after reading it to… It’s just one of those books that sticks with you like Lord of the Flies or Romeo and Juliet or The Great Gatsby – those books teachers shove down your throat because they have such important life topics.

You mentioned how the Mockingbird represents “someone innocent that has been injured or destroyed by evil (in the book Boo Radley, Tom Robinson, etc.)”. And you’re right in that, this is the main theme of the book that most people will point out… Interesting to note, though, that Harper Lee was never forthcoming with the symbolism and themes. But she was famous for saying that the story spells out the meaning of a code of honor and the conduct in the heritage of the Southerners. Which makes sense if you look at in a simplistic term, sure. Honor is the high respect you have for someone or something. Conduct is the manner in which a person behaves, especially on a particular occasion or in a particular context.

An example of this is basically the whole thing with Tom and Boo. Bob Ewell is the town drunk and known to be one mean and cruel man. But because Bob is white, because Mayella is white, and because poor Tom is a man of color, the view of what they know is right vs what they see as right is truly shown. It’s very very obvious in the book that Tom Robinson is innocent and that the stuff he’s being accused of, are things he couldn’t and wouldn’t do. People of the town know what kind of man Bob Ewell is… But because Bob and Mayella are white that’s enough for people to turn a blind eye to it and sentence poor Tom to be hanged. It doesn’t matter all the proof that Atticus had. It didn’t matter if Bob Ewell had been caught red handed, even. Because Tom was a black man, he was doomed. Ignorance, racism, and hatred play a big role in the undertone of the book and it is those key elements that lead to an innocent being killed. It’s what leads to people like Boo and Tom being hurt. Bob Ewell was a symbol of evil in that he was a cruel, racists,and unbearable man. But because he was white, Tom – a black man that was the symbol of innocence with Boo – was screwed.

There’s so much you can talk about when it comes to this book. There’s themes and undertones that you can pick at and everyone would have a different opinion. For me, this is a book of studying the moral nature of a person; are people good or evil? It’s highly noted that a single person can be good or evil, while people as a whole can be evil or do good. As individuals, the jury would probably have agreed with Atticus and Tom would’ve lived. But as a whole – to uphold an image of “pureness” – they made an evil choice because of an evil man… Yet it’s more than that. Scout and Jem in the beginning of the book believe that all people are good and innocent because the two have never been exposed to evil and they believe people have never been around evil so that makes them good and innocent. By the end of the book, they both have experienced what evil is and have to come to understanding with it and their view of the world. It’s through Atticus – who is an example of being able to see evil but not letting it change him to evil but instead also see the good and learn to see people as a whole in that they have good and bad in them,that nobody is truly evil to the core, but that things in life lead them down these paths that aren’t always just good and evil. That the world isn’t black and white, heroes and villains. It’s gray. That’s how I always saw the book,anyway.

So taking into account that this book has many themes, how do they apply to the show? First off, letting me know that was kind of interesting for me. Thanks for sharing that because it got me thinking a lot… In the box, Michonne specifically pulls out three things. A preserved four-leaf clover, what appears to be baseball cards, and the little sheriff figure with the gun. Lets focus on these things fora bit before I get to the mockingbird (And I will, just hold on for a second!)

Coming from an Irish and German background, I always loved trying to find four-leaf clovers at my grandma’s house. First off, the four-leaf clover is a very rare plant to find because they just generally do not grow with four leaves. They’re kind of a mutation of sort, basically…Anyway, each leaf on the four-leaf clover has a meaning according to my grandma. Faith, Hope, Love, and Luck. The regular three leaf I learned in bible school that it represents the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit and if you found a four-leaf, the fourth leaf was God’s Grace. So, finding a four-leaf clover was basically really good fortune for you, as in the holy trinity is watching over you and giving you grace.

There’s a lot of symbolism around the four-leaf clover really. After doing some digging, I learned that apparently in some biblical background stories about the Garden of Eden, Eve took a four-leaf clover with her to remember the place she and Adam were cast from (that’s kinda depressing but I get it). I also learned that apparently Druid priest used the four-leaf clover to ward off evil spirits in worship rituals. Also, in some cases,children and adults would hang a four-leaf clover over their doors to ward off bad omens, witchcraft, and evil spirits. In the Middle ages, they believed that those that carried a four leaf clover could see the fae folk. It was also believed to help ward off and give protection from The Evil Eye – which is basically a legend about a malevolent spirit of evil casting misfortune to someone; cause them to harm themselves by casting eyes on them. So the clover was like a “shield” against this gaze.

If there’s one thing that has happened to TF, it’s the cast of the evil eye upon them. Rick is “dead” (so they think) and their world has been cast astray of what they all know – which is following Rick’s leadership. Even with Michonne taking over (she doesn’t let them call her the leader but she basically is) everything is still not together – they’re all scattered away from one another and all lost with Rick gone, even after all this time. Finding a four-leaf clover – one basically buried away in a tomb van – shows a prospering future for Michonne and TF. Something they could all use… The clover is linked to the box, which means it’s basically a box of memories for someone…Just as the clover was a memory for Eve, that clover was for someone else…

I find it fascinating the Morgan and Michonne both found“lucky” items in abandoned vehicles.

Next up is the baseball cards – or at least that’s what they look like – and I’m wondering if that’s supposed to represent Negan. Finding the clover then the baseball cards in order… I’m thinking Negan is going to have a big hand in the future. Now obviously I could be wrong and maybe they’re just school photos or something like that and maybe they have nothing to do with good for Negan. But you say baseball and I automatically think of baseball bat and then I think of Negan. Plus the cards were wrapped up – imprisonment symbolism? Michonne would be the only one who could truly let Negan free… I’m not to sure about these cards but I do feel Negan with them.

Finally the little sheriff figure. Obviously, it’s for Rick. But what does a Sheriff represent in general? Well first off the Sheriff is supposed to represent keeping the peace. A sheriff protects the peace, enforces law, provides traffic control, investigates accidents, transports prisoners,and leads a community. I work for a Sheriff department, as luck would have it(for me, anyway) and I can tell you something neat. The badge we all know – the star badge – was taken because it was cheaper and easier to make than the original badge – which was an eagle shaped/themed badge. Plus the star is a symbol of all fifty states and the Sheriff wears the star with his state and his county name printed on it. So it’s his American shield/symbol of bringing peace.

Rick being a Sheriff is really interesting for me since I started working with the Sheriff of my county. Throughout the last eight years of TWD, I have seen Rick do basically everything I just described above… But he’s also been very much the complete opposite of what a Sheriff is supposed to stand for. I mean Rick has murdered before. He stabs Shane after luring him into a false sense of peace, straight up put a machete through Thomas’s head at the prison, strangles a Claimer to death and rips the throat of another open…Like Rick has done a lot of shit a Sheriff shouldn’t do… But he is still a symbol of peace and future, which is what a Sheriff is.

So with those items aside, lets talk about a Mockingbird. In the book, there’s a quote about the Mockingbird, which is supposed to be part of the symbolism we talked about above. The line is said by Atticus and later affirmed by Miss Maudie, I believe. It goes as followed:

“Rememberit’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.” That was the only time I ever heard Atticus say it was a sin to do something, and I asked Miss Maudie about it.

“Your father’s right,” she said. “Mockingbirds don’t do one thing but make music for us to enjoy . They don’t eat up people’s gardens, don’t nest in corn cribs,they don’t do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That’s why it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.”

This line is the main line for the title of the book and is basically the key metaphor explored by people. It’s true that Boo and Tom are indeed part of this symbolism. The mockingbird is a symbol that good, innocent people are destroyed by evil. Tom is destroyed by evil and I believe he’s even likened to a songbird that was slaughtered by children (or something like that, I’d have to dig my copy out and really read it again… Which I just might…). For Boo, he was destroyed by the evil that is his abusive father long ago, but he was still just good and gentle and didn’t cause no harm and saved Jem and Scout. Scout even makes a wise comment that hurting poor Boo would be like shooting a Mockingbird – it would be a sin to punish something/someone who has done nothing but try to be a good soul.

I believe the reason they decided to use To Kill A Mockingbird for this episode is because of Magna, Yumiko, Connie, Kelly, and Luke… And for Michonne. Think about it. There’s a trial scene. At this point,Judith would be Scout and even a bit of Boo. Michonne is being a Bob Ewell (funny how that works) and Magna and her group are Tom Robinson.

Michonne bases Magna and the whole group on one simple thing– Magna was a convict. She basically riled up a lynch mob with everyone and made the group out as these monsters that would stab them all in their sleep…Just as Bob painted Tom as some kind of big violent rapist. Judith was basically Scout and Boo. Judith saved them and brought them in, but she also killed to protect them (sure they were just walkers but yeah). Think about the character Scout and the Character Boo and then think about Judith. Judith can basically be considered “innocent” (I use that lightly because the girl isn’t completely innocent, she knows things, but she’s not grown enough to experience what true evil is). Judith is Scout in that she sees these people and assumes “good” because it’s something she just sees. Now obviously Magna and them are good, but what if they weren’t? Judith wouldn’t be able to see it. It wouldn’t take much to pull the cloak over a child’s eye, even one as quick witted and smart as Judith.

I believe that’s part of the reason we had her speaking against Negan. What Negan says is true about people. They can look real nice and seem real nice, but they can turn on you real quick and do damage. Funny enough, Negan is basically an anti-Atticus in his own right. He knows what is real good and what is real evil, but he lets himself make his own choices and runs an evil path. Atticus knew the difference between evil and good but stayed good and kind. Which, yeah, Rick fits this mold with a little push… But it’s also Daryl who fits this role the most and that’s something as well.

Anyway, Michonne was basically going to get Mockingbirds killed. Magna and them haven’t done anything evil that we know of so they’re not far from sin, but they are people that have done no wrong to the people that have helped them and have shown to be good and even democratic (the whole voting scene) and that’s our evidence that they’re good people just trying to survive. Michonne would basically be doing what Scout told Atticus about Boo –it would be like shooting a mockingbird to send them off. And I agree that Rick would have helped them too… He would’ve been wary and he would’ve been watching the new people, but Rick would’ve given them a chance to prove themselves as good. Michonne wasn’t doing that. She was stone walling them out – being a child throwing rocks at the mockingbirds.

Now… I know you asked about Beth. The more I think about it, Beth was an Atticus. She knew the world was full of evil… But she knew there were good people and knew that you had to see people for their strengths and weaknesses to see their whole and see them for who they were as a whole. Beth was like Jem and Scout too. She hadn’t experienced real evil until watching her father be beheaded… But she wavered in her belief of good people with Dawn and that put her at how Jem was towards the end of the book. But if she were around now, Beth could’ve been an Atticus…

Which leads me back to Daryl. If there’s anyone that fits the mold of Atticus, it’s Daryl… At least he did. Right now I’d say he’s more of a Jem. Lost his faith in systems and his beliefs of there being anymore good people… By the end of the book, Jem becomes distant in his belief of good people and justice. Daryl was an Atticus but now he’s a Jem… But he can become an Atticus again, which I believe will happen as the season goes on.

To be honest with you, the only thing bird related I’ve seenwith Beth was the bird cage in her cell room back in season 4. The birdcage in media – art or otherwise – is generally a symbol of lost freedom for a bird but also a frame of appreciation for their natural wonder. The birdcage is a symbol as much as the actual bird encased. For example, when I hear someone speak of a caged bird I always think of Sweeny Todd and the song “Green Finch and LinnetBird” that Johanna sings. In the song, Johanna compares herself to the caged bird and how she is trapped in the judges house, how her dream is to be free of her imprisonment and also talks of her inability to cope with the fact she will probably never escape. It’s always that song that comes to mind when I think of a bird cage and honestly it’s probably the most symbolic image and song I can think of. A bird that sings jubilantly and carefree while trapped in a cage…Yeah. That sounds like Beth. She still sings and still shows peace and acceptance even when she is basically in a giant bird cage in season 4 – the prison.Later – in season 5 at Grady – Beth still sings and is still an imprisoned bird, but she’s not as jubilant as she was. Rather she is like Johanna – she is trapped and isn’t sure how she’s to get free. But unlike Johanna, Beth isn’t disillusioned to her captivity and knows she’ll get free.

Now what about a Mockingbird? Well let’s talk about the bird itself. I know some people like @twdmusicboxmystery believe that the bird Daryl sees in 9x06 is an Osciner bird – the Songbird. But I believe it really is supposed to be a Bluebird or a Mockingbird, which IS a type of Songbird. I’m leaning more towards it being a Mockingbird since that’s part of the story in9x06. So Mystery isn’t wrong, I just believe it’s a different type of songbird than what they think it is.

And if it is the Mockingbird – which I believe it is – then that’s also a symbol for Daryl in that he doesn’t kill the bird and he doesn’t destroy it’s food source with the walker. He doesn’t commit a sin. He lets it live. And seeing a bird feeding it’s young and letting it live is definitely Daryl as a Boo Radley. Boo Radley was horribly hurt by his own father – like Daryl– and shut himself from the world because he wanted to be away from all the pain and horribleness the outside world can offer. That is what Daryl has basically done – shut himself way from people and their societies to “protect” himself from their troubles and pain. Loosing Rick put Daryl there but since Tyreese’s death – yes even with Beth’s death – Daryl has been pulling away and it’s no surprise he reached that point with Rick’s departure.

I know I’m not giving some deep meaning into the whole “Here’s all this that shows that Beth could be alive” and for that I’m sorry. I know that’s what you wanted me to answer, was probably hoping for… But I don’t see much symbolism around this bird and Beth and Daryl. I believe the bird is representing the To Kill A Mockingbird theme and that Daryl has his place as Boo at the moment, but is also an Atticus in his own right but needs to find his balance again. Which Daryl has a balance, he’s just off kilter right now.Understandably so.

This isn’t me shitting on anyone. I believe too many people are putting TOO MUCH emphases on all these things being related to Beth. I don’t have any connection for birds and Beth except for one thing and that’s Beth back at the prison and while she was in Grady because of that birdcage. People want to point out Carl seeing a bird cage back in season 4 with a dead bird on the ground and I think that was to symbolize how Carl was feeling and what he was going through – that he was a bird that escaped a cage but he has a chance of dying like the bird, who was probably caged it’s whole life and once free it didn’t know how to care for itself. But Carl wasn’t going to be the bird. He was going to survive and carry his dad along. Which he did. Sure he dies later,but for that scene and for that moment, Carl didn’t let himself become the dead bird.

So… I guess – posting all of this – I don’t really have anything to add to Beth and Birds and symbolism besides to say that sorry I don’t have anything but maybe reading what I’ve posted will give you a thought to go with your connections for Beth?

Thanks for asking me, by the way. This was pleasantly stimulating.

#the walking dead #team delusional #team defiance #team whatever happens will happen #team i don't care I'm having fun #team acceptance

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kawaiilikat1994 · 6 years

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Common Ground

*heavy breathing* Okay, this is the first IT fanfic I’ve ever done, so hhhhhhhhh enjoy? {roughly 2400 words}

@darth-stetter

Chapter One: 38 Days

“Just 38 days,” I told myself as I walked towards the front doors to Derry High School. “38 days until I'm free from this hell hole.” It was our first day back to school after spring break. Kids littered the front lawn, some hanging out in the shade of the trees, some playing catch. Then there were the unlucky few being mercilessly bullied. I ignored them all, though; I didn't have any real friends. It wasn't because I was some socially awkward loser hated by everyone. I just didn't like people enough to invest that much time and energy into a relationship. Despite my general apathetic nature attitude towards people, there were a few people who considered themselves my friend, even if the extent of our relationship was smoking pot and the occasional under-age drinking.

I kept to myself as I followed my normal morning routine: visit my locker, get my English books, grab an apple from the cafeteria, and wait outside the room 'til class started. I was pretty zoned out as I ate through my apple until Gretta, the junior's worst bully walked past.

“Slut!” she yelled before shoving another junior, Bev, into the nearby lockers. There was a loud clank as Bev's bony body slammed against the wall of metal. “Off to suck another dick in the bathroom?” Gretta sneered as her friends snickered beside her.

“Shut the fuck up, you ugly toad.” Gretta and her friends all turned to face me, but the look on my face told them not to mess with me.

“Whatever,” she muttered before pulling her friends away.

“Thank-” Bev started.

“I didn't do it for you,” I interrupted her. “I just hate that stupid bitch.”

“Language.” I turned to my English teacher, Mr. Wilson, who was unlocking the door. “I'd hate to write you up this close to graduation.” I didn't reply, and when I looked back Bev had disappeared. The bell didn't ring for another three minutes, but I was used to being the first kid to class. I took my usual seat in the back left corner and watched as the rest of the class slowly filed in. Mr. Wilson was halfway through roll call when the last student, Vic, walked in.

“Mr. Criss, so nice of you to join us,” Mr. Wilson sarcastically greeted him. He continued with roll as Vic made his way to the last available desk, which happened to be the one next to mine. When Mr. Wilson finished, her sat down his clipboard and leaned back on his desk. “Okay, everyone, listen up. This year the teachers got together and decided to do something different for your senior projects. In each class you'' be paired up with someone and given your task. For this class each pair will be given a historic novel to dissect.” He continued talking as he walked around the room, handing out syllabuses. “This breaks down every task I want you to do, as well as how many points you can earn for each part. Please be aware these stories will not be short or easy; this will be your classwork for the rest of the year.” I quickly scanned the syllabus as most of the class let out a groan. Mr. Wilson clapped his hands together to regain our focus. “Rows 2, 4, and 6: look to your left and say hi to your new partner.”

I gave Vic a once over and said, “Could be worse.” He smirked and gave me a nod. I really didn't mind being paired with Vic. He wasn't the dumbest kid in class, and he kept to himself, too, meaning I didn't find him as annoying as my other classmates. Mr. Wilson held up his clipboard and began assigning each pair a novel.

“Last but not least,” he said, “Vic and April: you get The Great Gatsby.” I let out a sigh and slumped my shoulders. On the one hand, the project should be easy since I'd already the book. “On the other hand, I'd read it at least a dozen times, so I knew I'd be bored out of my mind.

“Fitzgerald, he's not so bad,” said Vic.

“You've read it before?”

“Not this book,” he answered. “I read The Beautiful and the Damned. It was pretty good.”

“No, Lauren,” Mr. Wilson snapped. “You can't switch partners because you think Ivan is gross.” Vic and I both snickered under our breath.

“So what's your phone number?” he asked.

“U-um, what?”

“What's your phone number?” he slowly repeated like I was stupid. “I was thinking we could work on this after school, so I need a way to get a hold of you.”

“Oh, right,” I laughed, mentally face palming. I quickly scribbled my name and number on a piece of paper, but I didn't give it to him right away. “Trade, mine for yours.” Vic quickly copied me, and we traded slips of paper. “It, uh, would be best if we made plans in person, or I called you instead.” Vic's brows came together in confusion, and I quickly looked down. “Just... don't call me. My dad would get super pissed.” That seemed to be a good enough explanation, and he didn't press the issue. We spent the rest of class going over the syllabus and dividing the responsibilities. Before we knew it, the bell rand, signaling the end of class. We quickly made plans to meet up after school before going our separate ways.

In my next class, Calculus, the teacher gave the same speech as before. “Now, I understand this whole 'group project' concept is a little harder to apply to mathematics,” Dr. Harper explained, “so that's why I've turned this into a tutoring project. I've split the class into two groups: those with the higher grades and those who... could use some help. Your final grade will be determined by Person A's ability to increase Person B's final grade.” I was annoyed by this proposal; it meant I'd actually have to be patient with someone. Dr. Harper began calling out the pairs, and my ears perked up when I heard my name. “April Brembly and Patrick Hockstetter.” My face fell into my hands. It was no secret that Patrick had the worst grade in class. Whether it was because he was dumb or just didn't care, I had no idea, but it didn't help that he only attended class half the time. I jumped as Patrick plopped into the desk next to mine, his long legs knocking into mine.

“April,” he said, slowly drawing my name out as he gave me a devious smile. I tried to smile back, but it probably looked like I was wincing. “Oh c'mon, this'll be fun.”

“Look, let's get one thing straight,” I replied with a serious look. “I'm not failing this class because you decided to fuck around.” His head dipped back as he laughed, and I smacked the back of his hand. “I'm not kidding! Don't screw this up for me.” He suddenly grew very serious and gave me a salute.

“Yes sir!” I rolled my eyes as he laughed again. “Lighten up, April. It's not like you won't graduate, even if we failed this class.”

“That's not the point, I snapped. “How did you even make it to this class, anyways?”

“I'm pretty sure the other teachers passed me just so they wouldn't have me in class again,” Patrick answered. “I had Mrs. Tremblay for Algebra three times. I think she started pulling her hair our because of me.” He smiled triumphantly, and I simply shook my head.

“You're awful.”

“Thanks.” He stretched out even more, placing a leg in front and behind my desk, trapping my own in place.

“Do you mind?” I asked, my voice dripping with attitude.

“Not at all,” he answered with that damned smile. I rolled my eyes again and took my assignment sheet from Dr. Harper.

“Great, derivatives,” I sighed. “Does this even look familiar to you? I'm pretty sure you slept through the only class you bothered to show up for.”

“You been keeping tabs on me”? he asked with a wink.

“No,” I blurted, but I could feel my face heating up. He just laughed and leaned forward to read the assignment sheet. His face was so close to my shoulder I could feel his breath running down my arm. I shivered as goosebumps popped up on my skin, and he responded by draping his arm around the back of my chair.

“So, teacher,” he purred in a low voice, “work your magic on me.” I avoided eye contact for the next thirty minutes as I went over all the notes I had. Honestly, I had no idea if he was listening to me at all, but I still rambled on because it was the only way to distract myself from his intense stare. When I finished talking, I held out my pencil and turned the paper towards him. H eyes the sheet for a few seconds before looking back at me.

“What's in it for me?”

“Are you serious?” I groaned.

“You think I give a shit about my grades?” he laughed. “I'm not doing this unless I get something out of it.” His eyes drifted down to my chest, and I casually draped my hand over my cleavage.

“Like what?” I snapped. His fingers brushed against my bare leg, and I jerked away. “Something reasonable.”

“Make out with me,” he answered, staring straight into my eyes.

“First of all-”

“Every day.”

“W-what?” I blurted, wide-eyed.

“You don't make out with me, I don't do the work.” My mind raced as I struggled to think of something to say, and he smiled like a predator looking at cornered prey. “I need the motivation,” he added with a shrug. How bad do you wanna pass?” We silently stared each other down; he knew I couldn't afford to fail.

“Just kissing?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said unconvincingly. After what felt like an eternity the lunch bell rang. Patrick followed me out of the room and draped his arm over my shoulders as we walked down the hallway.

“What are you doing?” I asked in a curt tone, quickly shrugging his arm off.

“Going to meet Henry,” he answered, I remembered Henry's locker was a few down from mine and felt my face heat up again, embarrassed that I thought he was following me on purpose. “You should come hang with us.”

“I'm good, thanks,” I quickly answered. We walked around the corner, and I could instantly feel Henry's gaze on us. My stomach twisted into knots. The infamous bully never paid me any attention.

“C'mon,” Patrick urged as I stopped at my locker. “It beats eating alone.”

“I like eating alone,” I argued. I felt his arm snaking around my waist, and I smacked his hand away.

“I'll give you a free baggie after school,” he coaxed. I glanced up and watched him mimic smoking a joint. My lips began to twist into a smile, and I quickly looked away.

“What do you even do during lunch?” I asked.

“Smoke in Belch's car.”

“Got any menthols?” I closed my locker and looked up again, finding a cocky smile on his face.

“Always.”

“Dude, c'mon!” Henry barked a few feet away. Patrick cupped my shoulder and steered me in his friends' direction. “What's this?” Henry asked, motioning to me.

“April, my new... friend.” I didn't like the sinister tone in his voice, but I smiled anyways.

“You cool?” Henry asked, speaking to me directly.

“I guess,” I casually replied. He looked me and up and down before huffing.

“Let's go.” He led us out of the school and over to student parking where Belch's blue Trans-Am was waiting.

“Ladies first,” Belch said as he held the driver's seat forward. I climbed into the backseat, followed by Patrick and Vic. Henry took the passenger's seat and Belch the driver's. Everyone was quiet as the cigarettes were pulled out and lit up. I took a long drag off the one Patrick gave me, closing my eyes when the wave of nicotine hit me.

“So what's the deal with you two?” Henry finally asked, eyeing Patrick and I in the rear view mirror.

“School project,” I answered before Patrick had a chance to say anything stupid. “Uh, speaking of, I'm gonna be late to the library after school today,” I told Vic. Patrick's hand slid over my thigh, and I clamped my legs together to keep from moving further north.

“Wait, you're partners with Patrick and Vic?” Henry asked.

“What's with the third degree?” I asked back, not bothering to hide my agitation.

“So my mom's gonna be at work all night,” Belch spoke up. “We'll have the whole place to ourselves.”

“April, you down?” Patrick offered.

“Who the fuck said you could invite her?” Henry barked.

“Well, we were gonna work on our project,” Vic added, “So if she just comes with-”

“Whatever,” Henry huffed.

“If you're gonna be a whiny bitch about it, I just won't go,” I threw at him. The other boys stared at me wide-eyed as Henry spun around in his seat.

“What did you say, bitch?!”

“You suddenly can't hear?” I replied, not backing down.

Henry's grip on his headrest tightened as he snarled, “Don't fucking talk to me like that.”

“Then stop treating me like shit!” I snapped. The car was silent as we stared each other down.

“Then prove you're not,” he finally said before slumping back in his seat. Patrick wrapped his arm around my shoulders, as if to comfort me, and I rolled my eyes. Henry was the first to finish his cigarette, and even though he didn't say anything, everyone knew he was impatiently waiting on us to finish. I quickly puffed on my cigarette and tossed it out the window after his. Patrick was the next to finish, followed by Belch, and eventually Vic.

“Meet here after school,” Henry said before getting out of the car. He looked back at me and added, “We'll leave your ass here if you're late.” He didn't wait for the rest of us to exit the car before walking away.

#bowers gang imagine #henry bowers imagine #vic criss imagine #belch huggins imagine #patrick hockstetter imagine #bowers gang x oc

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moonlights-inkwell · 6 years

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There’s Something Tragic About You.

Summary: You find out that Jason’s dead, and slowly but surely learn to cope before a mugging brings a new vigilante to light in your eyes.

Jason Todd x reader

Word Count: 3,018

[part 1] [part 3]

So... I admit I got a little carried away with this. This chapter wound up longer and a hell of a lot angstier than I originally intended but oh well?

Title is from Hozier’s From Eden.

You find out that he's dead at the same time everyone else in your class does when the principal comes in to English class to share the awful news. You hate to admit it to yourself, but as soon as he walks in you know he's there to talk about Jason, but never in a thousand years had you thought that he was going to say that Jason was dead. According to him, Jason had died when a bomb had gone off in the hotel where he had been staying; some freak terror attack. Seemed to come out of nowhere, there was nothing that could have been done, he says in a voice authoritative enough to make you angry but filled with enough condolence for you to wasn't to sob. While everyone else whispers about terrorism and why Jason was all the way in Ethiopia; your head bows, hair falling around your face as you allow the tears to fall. He's gone. No matter how many whispers about him and how weird it was that he was dead would bring him back, no matter how many comments about terrorism, about bombs. He's dead. Jason, your Jason, brilliant Jason. Dead. The only thought that comes to you beyond your comprehension of his death is that whatever deity lives up above you must have a sick sense of humour, as your tear-filled eyes stare down at your copy of The Great Gatsby. Of course. Two dead Jays. The rest of the day is a blur of incomprehensible colours and sounds, while you're caught in a head space somewhere between dazed and haunted. The kids who had once bullied you instead give you a wide berth, even they seem to grasp that right now isn't the right time. No one speaks to you all day, and just the concept of being in the cafeteria makes you want to puke. Eating is a task that seems impossible and besides, there's no one there you want to sit with. Instead, you timidly walk to Jason's locker, unlock it, and stare blankly at the locker, making a mental note of the contents. Your eyes glide across an old red jacket that you hadn't seen in months. You recall making a comment about the jacket and how much you liked it, and in a moment of sudden desperation you grab it and pull it on, revelling in the feeling of being surrounded by something that had once been Jason's. [E/C] Eyes slide across a copy of pride and prejudice, and your fingers gently pick it up before closing the locker quickly. You know theft is wrong, and under normal circumstances you wouldn't have done such a thing, but you can't lose everything of him. You need something to remember him by, and it might be sick, but you need it to cope.

The funeral is unbearable, sitting beside your parents on a hard pew in an icy church in front of the coffin that held the boy who said he'd come home was hell, like a nightmare come true. Before Jason, the only person who you had ever known who had died was your grandmother, and the bracelet she had given you had been passed onto Jason, and like a curse it had taken Jason from you too. You had spent days trying to convince yourself that it was only a fear toxin induced hallucination, that Scarecrow had dropped some sort of bomb of gas over the city, leaving you to deal with the contents of your own mind, but no. Jason is dead. Gone forever, and you're stuck here without him. Your parents hadn't known Jason as anything more than 'that boy who comes over sometimes', but they sit silent besides you, and you're grateful for that. You're sure they don't know what to say beyond useless words of apology, but they're there and that means more than you could ever explain. Other than your family and a few of the teachers who had liked Jason, there is only one person there you even recognise, Bruce Wayne. You'd never said much more than a few words to Bruce while Jason was alive, only his butler who had taken a shine to you, but from the look of utter sadness that Mister Pennyworth had given you onto your way into the church you didn't doubt that Bruce and his butler had felt something like you did. It felt strange to think of Batman as a creature who could mourn, but orphaned Bruce Wayne's son being murdered? That was something you could never comprehend if you lived a hundred lifetimes. There's a boy who looks barely older than 18 or so, surrounded by other people that age, dressed in black with his eyes bloodshot. He looks almost strikingly like an older Jason and you almost call out before it occurs to you after a few seconds that he's Dick Grayson, Bruce's first ward. Jason had once confessed to feeling in the shadow of him, both as a Robin and as Bruce's son, and yet here he is crying for him. You don't approach either after the service or at the grave side. What could you possibly say to them that wouldn't sound trite or all too familiar? What do you say to people who already lost their families and just lost another member of the one they had tried to create for themselves? It feels strange as you stare down at his headstone, fifteen-year-old boys shouldn't be dead and buried. Jason shouldn't be.

The sound of the alarm makes your eyes slip open, arm reaches out almost automatically to grab your phone and turn it off, bones cracking while you roll onto your back and check the screen for any new messages. Eyes squinting from the sudden bright light in the otherwise dimly lit room, you sigh softly and rake your fingers through your hair, a text from your mum hoping that you're safe and happy. You let out a quiet groan before shuffling to your feet, making a mental note for yourself to call her when you're more awake while padding into the kitchen as you crack your back, then turn on the radio as you begin to wake up at the sound of other voices. You curse at the sound of the news, almost sure that you had left it on the music station last night. The news, especially in Gotham was never good; there was a reason you don't read the Gazette (other than the fact that it's a rag). Fingers enclose around a box of cereal as the radio anchor talks about a crime scene in a warehouse near the docks, pouring the brightly coloured pebbles into a bowl while she talks about a duffel bag filled with decapitated heads. Somewhere in your sleep dazed mind reminds you that you should be disgusted by the waste of life, but the rest of you reminds you that this is Gotham. If you weren't willing to be surrounded with murder and crime you should have moved to Metropolis or Coast City for college, but you were still here, and you wonder if that says more about you than the city that you're willing to stay there. Your mum had wanted you to either go to a new city for college or live at home with her, but while you couldn't bring yourself to leave Gotham the prospect of living with your parents sounds hellish. You sit on the counter, eating tiredly as you half listen to an interview with Commissioner Gordon caught somewhere between too hungry to stop eating and too tired to get up and turn it off. Mumbling bitterly under your breath about how Gordon and his cops aren't going to do shit and how they never do shit, because they just leave all the hard work for Batman and each new Robin, you force yourself off the counter and off to get a shower and get dressed for work. The walk to work is short, but Gotham is cold enough even in spring for you to feel uncomfortable during the walk. It's freezing, a hard blow of the wind making your coat billow around your thighs, and the only positive you can think of is that it isn't raining but as if someone above had been listening, a small droplet of water hits the tip of your nose, and then your forehead. Fuck. Of course. You let out a quiet groan and begin jogging, weaving in and out of other pedestrians and then cars as you bolt across the road. There's always a strange sort of discomfort that comes from living in Gotham, probably a result of it's wet and cold environment and the fact that it's close enough to an Asylum for its inmates to break out and live amongst you before attacking, but today's discomfort comes from something different than the usual. You turn your head to try to gage just what it is exactly as it hits you, it feels like being watched. Turning your head back to see what's in front of you, you try to ignore the feeling before turning on your heel to see if you can work out whether that feeling is right, but Gotham streets are so packed you could be stalked all the way from your apartment and have no clue. That thought makes your stomach drop quickly and because of that you can't help but feel relieved at the sight of the familiar red neon lettering on top of the diner. Pauli's has hardly changed since you were in high school, still old looking and homely, with the red and white checked metal tables and peeling vinyl on the seats of the booths, spacious and claustrophobic in a way that makes you sad, but every single time you enter it's with a smile and today is no exception. The fifties aesthetic was one that you understood the appeal of without ever really being into under usual circumstances, but Pauli's was different for you, with the hand-drawn posters and bright colours. Hooking your jacket up on your usual peg by the door, you let yourself smile at one of the other waitresses (an older woman who had taken you happily and willingly under her wing after remembering you coming in near daily during your school days) and tie your apron around your waist. Working in Pauli's while you're in college had seemed almost obvious, like something destined to be: maybe it was a subconscious thing where you felt the need to come back to atone for the date that never happened, or just to return to something familiar in a city that looks more and more alien to you with every other day. The old diner meant more to you than you would have confessed; with its familiar slightly greasy smell and its regular customers and it helps on the long shifts after classes, when people who you see almost daily smile up at you while you fill up their coffee or take their orders, asking to make sure that you're okay. Gotham might have spent a lifetime making you harder than you would have been anywhere else; but the people, hardened in the same ways that you were, had done a pretty good job of reminding you that normal, everyday people were still good... and sometimes, after looking up at the flicking TV over the counter while it showed reports of costumed criminals, you need reminding. You often find your eyes glancing to your old booth, and then to the old black and white tiles around it, when shifts get slow in between intermittent glances to the clock on the wall surrounded by bright red neon letters, COFFEE. You pick up a pot of coffee, and turn around, noticing when a cop lifts a hand to indicate that he either needed a refill or wanted to order, you clench your jaw before sighing and forcing a smile and then walk over. When you finally leave work the rain has stopped but the cold has increased fourfold as if to compensate for it, and your candy-coloured uniform barely does anything to keep you warm even with your jacket. It's almost unbearable, even with your hands shoved into your pockets, and that overwhelming feeling of someone watching you is back full throttle. The bright orange fluorescent lights overhead mean that at least you know that the way home isn't entirely dark, but it feels more like a clinical sort of light, the orange not the same warm colour as the street lights in other cities instead seeming cold. Gotham in daylight is like walking through any big city, but at night the city became something more... something darker. A labyrinth of winding streets, all smog filled and cold, with monsters hiding around every corner. All at once you're struck with an understanding why your mother always said that you shouldn't be out in the city after dark. You try to swallow that insecurity and slip down into an alley, your usual shortcut home, and finally start to relax at the familiarity. It's short-lived. Walking slowing, you hear more than one set of footsteps coming from behind you and you begin cursing under your breath, and before you can even begin to speed up you feel the sharp chill of a blade against your neck. "Give us all you got." The man hisses into your ear, breath hot and predatory against your skin and you can't even begin to disguise the cringe that overcomes you. You know that you should be terrified but all that you can think is that his breath is gross. Two more men walk around the two of you, and leer down at you as your hand slides into the pocket of your coat, but then scowl as you reveal the contents to them; a coffee-shop loyalty card, a dollar fifty in change and four hair ties. You're a poor college student; you don't know why anyone would choose to mug you, there's nothing that you could possibly give to them that they would want. No watch, no jewellery, no phone, no wallet to hand over. You almost smile at the fact that you forgot your phone until it dawns on you that you have no way of calling for help and not getting your throat slashed for the attempt. Shit. Eyes flitting around the alley way, you try to make out if there is a way for you to escape, but to no avail as one of the two men surges closer to make sure that you weren't holding out on them. His hand scrabbles around in the empty pocket before grabbing at your thigh through the thin fabric, causing you to let out a loud yelp of anger while his face leans in closer to yours. Your mouth opens for you to tell him to get his hand off you but all that comes out is a loud scream as a bullet flies through the side of his head, sending a mess of blood and liquefied brain splattering onto the dirty ground. The man who had been holding onto you suddenly throws you to the ground beside the body, your hand barely missing the blood, as he and his one remaining accomplice run off. The orange light from the streetlight makes the blood look almost black, like some sort of tar that was making its way closer and closer to you with every second. You shuffle backwards quickly, slicing your hand open in the scrabble to get away from the gore, only to slam against something warm and hard. Legs, you realise as you turn your head. Leaning over you is a man, tall and broad, clad in leather and a helmet that glints crimson even with the darkness and streetlights. The smell of gunpowder radiates from him; from the still smoking gun at his side. "You always get the attention of dangerous pricks?" The voice that comes from the helmeted man is heavily modulated, sounding more like the sort of robots that you'd find in a Sci-fi B-movie crossed over with static and buzzing and it would be almost funny if it wasn't for the gun clenched in his hand and the fact he had just murdered someone in front of you. You assumed the modulation was there for a reason similar to the reason why Batman deepened his voice on patrol, being a Vigilante in Gotham was dangerous enough: but one who had no problem with killing? That meant that more than one type of person would be looking for him and a voice works as a means of finding a person. But hell, in Gotham it could just mean that the man in front of you actually was some sort of cyborg; like Arnie in Terminator, or like RoboCop. You stare up at him from your place on the floor, silent and scared witless, eyes flitting from the lifeless mask and the gun. "...Well?" "...No?" You ask rather than state while getting to your feet, holding your injured hand awkwardly before shoving it into your pocket."...You just killed-" "Put down." Was the mechanical response, as if talking about a rabid animal rather than a human being (albeit a scummy one), and that makes you step back quickly. "...You're welcome [Y/N]." Blinking rapidly, a droplet of rain hits your jaw, then another on your shoulder, then the top of your head, before the downpour begins once more. Within seconds, your hair is plastered to your forehead, and you let out a shaking sigh. You turn on heel from the helmeted man then run home as fast as your legs can carry you. It's only once you're home-with every door and window locked, sat on your couch in an old t-shirt and sweat pants while drying your hair with a towel, that you're suddenly struck with a question as you place a bandaid onto the palm of your hand.

How did he know your name?

@hyp-oh-critical

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #red hood #red hood x you #batfam x reader

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bubblegumstardust · 6 years

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Here are you book asks :D prepare for a lot! 3-8, 15-18, 21, 23-25, 30-35, 39, 40, 43, 46, 48-50 :)

time for round 2 then :D

3.Do you read books just because you saw them on tumblr??

i have read some books because of tumblr but i always check out what it is to see if i might actually be interested rather than just reading it purely because tumblr said to

4.Is there a book that you think needs a bigger fandom??

yes, Illuminae like you said when i asked you, also Zodiac, Ready Player One, The Sin Eater’s Daughter, The Diabolic, and so many other books i read because i swear like no one has read half of them

5.Do you have a snack while reading or do you close the book first??

if i can eat it one handed i will eat while reading

6.Can you ever stop in the middle of a page or do you have to finish the page or chapter first??

as long as the paragraph is finished i can stop

7.Do you borrow books from people??

nope, most of my friends don’t read all that much and they never have books i don’t

8.Do you lend your books out to friends??

if i really really want them to read it then yes

15.Do you set yourself a TBR list at the start of the month??

i tried a couple of times but i didn’t stick to it so i gave up

16.What book has been on you TBR pile the longest??

oh god idk, i mean i’ve been meaning to read Percy Jackson for years but i only just got the books so maybe that?

17.Is there a book on your TBR pile that you don’t think you will read?

absolutely NOT going to read the Uglies series or Great Expectations

18.Do you know anyone else that likes books??

yeah my mum and grandparents read a fair bit, most of my friends like books too

21.Do you write??

i do but i suck at it tbh and never let anyone i know see any of it

23.How did you get into reading??

my mum always read to me and my sister every night before bed when we were little, like cool stuff like Harry Potter, and then i just started reading. i also loved the Felicity wishes and rainbow fairy books when i was little and there was loads of them so i started reading a lot

24.Have you read a book that was really hyped up but you didn’t enjoy??

HARRY POTTER AND THE CURSED CHILD! why did so many people love it so much like i don’t get it

25.Do you prefer physical books, Ebooks or audio books?? (/there is not wrong answer)

i love physical books, ebooks i pretty much only read when i’m on holiday, and i’ve never listened to an audio book but i think they’re a great thing

30.Can you leave a series unfinished or do you have to own all the books and try them all??

if i really really can’t stand the book or the book was really forgettable i can leave a series unfinished but usually if i have even the slightest bit of interest in what happens i’ll make myself finish a series. also if my reading tastes change while a long series is still being written i might not finish it and not feel bad about it (i.e. with the house of night series (which i read when i was way to young for it actually) and the morganville vampires)

31.How do you think you would be described if you were in a book??

i have a feeling i’d be compared to an angry hobbit with an alarming obsession with everything pretty and pastel coloured. also they’d definitely call me an asshole.

32.“They edged towards the shaking box that had just been delivered.” Should they open it?? You decide what happens next.

the box continues to shake as they approach and a foot away they all stop and look at it with concern. no one speaks as they all wait for something to happen until one member of the group decides “fuck this, i ain’t getting involved in some demon shit today” and turns to walk away. the others follow and they leave the box to do its thing while they go and get ice cream. later one kids mum comes home and finds the still shaking box. she turns white and quickly grabs the box up to her room before she opens it and turns of the...ah...toy

that wasn’t where i planned to take that but i’m tired okay, leave me alone

33.How do you organise your shelves??

well right now i kinda have books together with others that are in some way similar and also look good together aesthetically, it’s rather odd and complicated at the moment, more often than not though it’s done by colour and occasionally genre

34.What do you do to mark your pages??

book mark normally

35.Do you have a lot of bookmarks?? or just a few??

only a few

39.What book that has made you cry??

do you want the full list? because it’s extensive. i cry a lot. okay this is in order of what i see on my bookshelf: Half Wild, Half Lost, Siege and Storm, Ruin and Rising, Illuminae, Gemina, Obsidio, Zodiac, Wandering Star, Black Moon, Thirteen Rising, acotar, acomaf, acowar, acofas, Tower of Dawn, Heir of Fire, Queen of Shadows, Empire of Storms, Crooked Kingdom, The Hobbit, The Sleeping Prince, The Scarecrow Queen, The Raven Cycle, The Fault In Our Stars, Simon Vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda, Clockwork Princess, The Diabolic, The Empress, The Death Cure, The Fever Code also a few more i think but i either can’t see them on my shelves or they’re ebooks or something and i can’t remember

40.How do you feel when you find a typo/spelling error in a book??

i won’t lie, i hardly ever actually notice them if i’m really into the book but if i’m not absorbed enough and see when then it kinda throws me for a minute

43.Free rant, go ahead, we all know you want to.

okay so why the heck are so many books doing this thing where they come out in hardback and then i have to wait months or sometimes like a whole year or something for a paperback to be released!? like can you not? so i know you do it to get more money because everyones like “i want this book and i want it now” so they spend the extra money on the hardback but like i can’t afford to do that, maybe occasionally but not all the time. like for the amount i read and number of books i end up buying i can hardly afford to pay full price for the paperbacks and then i can’t get books i really badly want for absolutely ages because i just can’t justify spending the extra money and FOR FUCKS SAKE CAN YOU JUST RELEASE THE PAPERBACK SOONER!? LIKE FINE YOU CAN WAIT A MONTH OR SOMETHING BUT CAN YOU NOT MAKE IT ANY LONGER BECAUSE I DIE OVER HERE.

also i’m having multiple rants here okay?

CAN YOU FOR THE LOVE OF GOD JUST NOT CHANGE COVERS WHEN A SERIES IS ONLY PART WAY DONE OR IF YOU REALLY HAVE TO RELEASE THE NEWER BOOKS WITH THE OLD COVERS TOO!? I have straight up abandoned a series in part because i can’t get matching covers and you bet i’m pissed about it.

46.Do you have a bookish tattoo?? Do you want one??

i don’t yet but from the 25th July i will!!! :D48.Do you write, highlight, underline etc in your books

nope, can’t bring myself to, unless it was a shitty old copy of some book i hated that i had to study at school but even then i usually took notes on separate bits of paper

49.Worse book you’ve ever read??

oooooooh. um so i really, really hated the great gatsby, didn’t like of mice and men either, Abandon by Meg Cabot I hated but that’s all i can think of

50.Do you read classics?? If so, what’s your favourite??

i’ve read a few and literally bought a ton of them a few years back because i wanted to get into classics more but i’ve only read a few of them. I adore Pride and Prejudice so that’s probably my favourite

god this is long, enjoy!

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inloveandwords · 4 years

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I saw this over on Sahi’s blog, My World of Books, and I thought it looked super fun!

1. What was the last book you read?

I misread this and thought it said, “what was the BEST book you read” and I almost immediately gave up on answering, because that’s impossible to answer. However, the actual question is much easier.

I reread A Curse So Dark and Lonely by Brigid Kemmerer since it is FINALLY released on audio and I just finished A Heart So Fierce and Broken.

2. Was it a good one?

I loved it just as much the second time as the first.

3. What made it good?

You can read my full review here, but honestly? The characters. The subtleties, the humor, the perfect depiction of The Beast and his sorrows/guilt/regrets.

4. Would you recommend it to other people?

As always, I would recommend this to people who I think would enjoy it. For example, I forced my niece to read it because I knew she’d love it. And she did.

5. How often do you read?

Every day 🙂

6. Do you like to read?

I mean… obvi.

7. What was the last bad book you read?

Hot Doctor by Hope Ford. I read it for the KU Weekend Readathon and it was kind of the worst.

8. What made you dislike it?

All things that made romance short stories bad. No character development, no plot, no point.

9. Do you wish to be a writer?

I’d love to be a full time writer.

10. Has any book ever influenced you greatly?

As far as writing style, I love Jandy Nelson’s writing in The Sky is Everywhere. Mariana Zapata has some sports romances in which some of the characters are so badass and dedicated to their sport, it inspires me to be more active.

11. Do you read fan-fiction?

I’m not a big fan of it.

12. Do you write fan-fiction?

Nope.

13. What is your favourite book?

I think I have to go with A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J Maas. Sorry. Gotta be that b*tch.

14. What is your least favourite book?

That I’ve actually finished? Recently? The Kiss Thief by LJ Shen. It just solidified that this author is absolutely not for me. It has the one and only one-star rating I’ve ever given. Usually I will DNF books that I dislike this much, however, I kept waiting for it to redeem itself since so many people like it. And it never did.

15. Do you prefer physical books or reading on a device (like Kindle)?

I love the look and feel of real books, but man, the convenience of a Kindle is so glorious.

16. When did you learn to read?

I have no idea. Probably around 4 or 5 I would assume.

17. What is your favourite book you had to read in school?

As a little kid, I remember I was absolutely taken with The BFG – my teacher read it to us in class. When I was older (in high school), I was so surprised by how much I loved The Great Gatsby.

18. What is your favourite book series?

Right now it is The Caraval series by Stephanie Garber, but it’s likely the Cursebreakers series by Brigid Kemmerer could become my favorite. However, it’s unfinished. But from book one to the last book in the series, Caraval was perfect.

19. Who is your favourite author?

I think I have to look at this as, who consistently writes books that I love, and that would be Mariana Zapata. I’ve read every single one of her books and have loved them all and reread them all multiple times.

20. What is your favourite genre? Adult contemporary romance.

21. Who is your favourite character from a series? Rhen. He is, by far, the best beast in any Beauty and the Beast retelling. Also, I just adore his character so much. I want to give him a big hug and tell him that everything is going to be ok.

22. Has a book ever transported you somewhere else? I’m absolutely got swept away in Caraval. (Just as the book warns you not to do!)

23. Which book do you wish had a sequel?

Mother effer I’m still made about My Name is Memory not having a sequel!

24. Which book do you wish DIDN’T have a sequel? Honestly? I think the Black Dagger Brotherhood series can stop now, thanks.

25. How long does it take you to read a book? That depends on so many thing. I’ve finished books in a matter of hours, in a matter of days, or in a matter of weeks.

26. Do you like when books become movies? I’d much rather books become TV shows because they tend to have more time to develop and include everything.

27. Which book was ruined by its movie adaptation? (Twilight)

28. Which movie has done the book justice? The Hunger Games was done pretty well!

29. Do you read newspapers? Nope.

30. Do you read magazines? Nope.

31. Do you prefer newspapers or magazines? None.

32. Do you read while in bed? Every night!

33. Do you read while on the toilet? Occasionally.

34. Do you read while in the car? Only audiobooks. Reading in a car makes me nauseated.

35. Do you read while in the bath? Yes!

36. Are you a fast reader? I’m fairly fast.

37. Are you a slow reader? No.

38. Where is your favourite place to read? My reading chair.

39. Is it hard for you to concentrate when you read? Nope, I can pretty much zone everything out when I read.

40. Do you need a room to be silent when you read? I actually prefer some noise.

41. Who gave you your love for reading? My mom is just as obsessed with books as I am. I grew up seeing her with a book anytime she had a moment to sit and relax. She’d never deny me books. She always encouraged my love of reading.

42. What book is next on your list to read? Eek! I’m not sure. I just started my latest book. It’ll depend on what I’m up for reading when I’m finished.

43. When did you start to read chapter books? I was pretty young. I think around 6 or 7 I started reading The Babysitter’s Little Sister series and the Goosebump series. Then I graduated to The Babysitter’s Club and Sweet Valley High and Fear Street.

44. Who is your favourite children’s author? RL Stine

45. Which author would you most want to interview? Brigid Kemmerer just because her book is so fresh in my mind. I want to pick her brain.

46. Which author do you think you would be friends with? Mariana Zapata seems like so much fun!

47. What book have you reread the most?

OMG. Probably The Hating Game by Sally Thorne.

48. Which books do you consider ‘classics’? Probably the same as everyone else?

49. Which books do you think should be taught in every school? I think there are a ton of more modern books that would be worth reading in school.

50. Which books should be banned from all schools? I mean… it depends on the age of the kids in the school. I wouldn’t put a Sierra Simone book in an elementary school. LOL!

50 Bookish Questions I saw this over on Sahi's blog, My World of Books, and I thought it looked super fun!

#tag

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road2nf · 7 years

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Jensen McRae | The Road to Nerdfighteria

DFTBA. If you are not subscribed to the vlogbrothers YouTube channel, and if you never have been, you might not know what that stands for. It’s an initialism (because acronyms are pronounceable, fact c/o of a vlogbrothers video) that stands for Don’t Forget To Be Awesome. It is the official (or perhaps unofficial) motto of the nerdfighter community. (Nerdfighters are people who are fans of vlogbrothers, the content creators therein, or the community therein. I think that’s enough definitions for now). When I was 14 years old, this book called The Fault in Our Stars came out. A good friend of mine was kind of obsessed with the author, this slightly sub-middle-aged white guy named John Green, and she insisted that I read both The Fault in Our Stars and Looking for Alaska, this John Green guy’s first book. I was a reader in childhood, having developed nearsightedness due to my predilection for reading in the dark after my bedtime by flashlight (at least that’s the explanation my mother gave me). However, recently I’d found myself frustrated by books. I would tear through middle-grade chick lit (that’s the best way I can describe these terribly formulaic books with dull characters and contrived plots that always involved two straight/white/able-bodied/middle-class best friends falling in love) when I found it, but other than that, I wasn’t reading as much as I used to. I can’t really remember what I did with my free time. I guess I was writing songs? I think I was mostly playing The Sims 3. I digress. In any case, I was in ninth grade and on the precipice of Maybe Being Cool, and this friend was one of the cooler girls in class, so I bought TFiOS (hip shorthand) about two months after its publication and read it over spring break in ninth grade. I read it in one three or four hour sitting, and I cried. Like a lot. It was the first time since early childhood that I could remember a book moving me in such a poignant way. I was attached to the characters, I was absorbed by the plot, and the language! The LANGUAGE in that story was so compelling. I was picking up on subtext and metaphors in a way that I’d only ever done when I was forced to in English class. The book had reinvigorated my love for words in stories that no other book could have. Then I took a brief reading hiatus. The second half of my ninth grade year was me continuing to ascend the social ladder, however slowly. I still joked that I was a dork, but the truth of the matter was, I had friends from every rung. I was sociable with tech geeks, theater nerds, football players, and cheerleaders alike. I felt like people had stopped looking through me like I was invisible. It was largely due to my presence on the school newspaper, which drew both the ambitious popular kids and the ambitious nerdy kids to its ranks. Also, I had a boyfriend. We never kissed or held hands or even went on dates, but we hung out every day at school and told people we were dating. This was enough to get me at least a bit of social buying power. (I promise this is all relevant to the story). Then, at the end of freshman year, I realized that I was sick of having a boyfriend who did not kiss me or hold my hand or go on dates with me, and also didn’t answer my texts or calls once school let out. So I called his house and dumped him over the phone. I spent the summer feeling sorry for myself, turning to the Internet and its thriving subculture of fame and infamy. Whenever I get heartbroken in real life, I fall deeply and inconsolably in love with fictional characters and/or celebrities who are too old for me. That summer, it was Jack and Finn Harries, Dan Howell, and any other British 20-year-old who made funny sketches and made me feel like I was loved, even though they were thousands of miles away, several years older, and had no idea who I was. It was during this summer that I discovered a channel featuring two much older men named Hank Green and John Green (yes relation, they’re brothers). Their videos were all at least somewhat informational, whether they be about politics, science, literature, or just about the personal lives of the men who made the videos. About five videos in, I realized that John Green of the vlogbrothers was John Green of TFiOS fame. I was elated! There were hundreds of videos on the channel going back to 2007. In between reading self-insert fanfic about the Harries twins, I would watch vlogbrothers videos, reminding myself to read John’s other books when I got the chance. When I returned to school, all the work that I’d done to become popular seemed to dissolve before my very eyes. Sophomore year was when we switched campuses, to the Upper School, and all the actual popular kids were going to parties with upperclassmen and trying alcohol and getting into real relationships. I was stuck in the past, pining over boys who only hung out with me so I would help them write their essays and obsessing over Tumblr and YouTube. I was also experiencing turbulence in my personal life unlike any I’d ever had before. It’s so clear to me now that I was afraid of the social rejection and emotional darkness in the real world, so I holed myself up online, laughing while handsome young Brits wore wigs on camera and rewatching John Green speed-talk his way through a fake television show he titled “Hitler and Sex.” In the midst of this Internet-ing, I read that other John Green book my old friend had mentioned, even though she’d already begun the slow and painful process of outgrowing me (the death knell of our friendship was when she told me about having sex with her boyfriend in her car and my response was some combination of a prudish, judgmental face and an exclamation of “Ew!”). Looking for Alaska leveled me just as profoundly as TFiOS had, and with no social life to worry about, I was hungry for more. I read the other books that John Green had talked about on his channel–Fahrenheit 451 and The Great Gatsby, plus other works that his recommendations had led me to, like Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, The Taming of the Shrew, and one of my all-time favorites to this day, Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut. I was reading a book almost every week, downloading them to my iPad and going back to my old habits, reading by dim light long after I should have already gone to sleep. My schoolwork wasn’t where it needed to be, but I was thriving. Awakened, even. Though my junior year marked another ascent into minor popularity, I crash-landed my senior year, coming off a painful rejection from a summer romance and a position in student government that should have won me acceptance but largely isolated me from everyone but my fellow council mates and steady friends. College applications were stressing me out, I felt alienated from even my immediate circle, and I was worried about my social future. Though I was accepted to the only two universities I applied to, I felt inert and emotionally itchy. I descended back into what I knew best: books. I read more Vonnegut, bizarre stories by delightful authors like Graeme Cameron and Douglas Coupland, and of course, my current #1 all-time, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Díaz. After my brain literally exploded from reading Oscar Wao in all its sprawling, multilingual, multigenerational, magical realistic/science fictional glory, I devoured Díaz’s two books of short stories, Drown and This Is How You Lose Her. I vividly remember those days in the spring of 2015, using my seemingly endless multitude of free periods to sit in the sweaty, iron-hot bleachers, nose burrowed in a book, ignoring the festivities of senior year around me. I was happier alone, laughing at Kurt’s crude drawings and Díaz’s matter-of-factness about love and sex, experiences I’d still yet to have at 17. I graduated, and I went to USC, where within a month of starting school I met Junot Díaz and got him to sign my copy of Oscar Wao. I dealt with the Usual College Stuff, like homesickness (from half an hour away…I’m weak) and social anxiety and academic adjustments and figuring out what the hell it actually means to major in popular music. I stopped judging people for drinking alcohol and having sex, I stopped being afraid of parties (though I’m still terrified of boys…and rightly so), I stopped being disappointed in my real life because it doesn’t follow a neat narrative (or at least I do it less now). However, I never stopped reading, and I never stopped watching vlogbrothers videos. I am a faithful nerdfighter, because that online community and John’s books have seen me through some dark times. Somewhere in the last five years, I read An Abundance of Katherines (not my favorite), Paper Towns (used to be my favorite but TFiOS ranks supreme at the moment), and Will Grayson Will Grayson (absolutely ACES but technically cowritten with David Levithan so to me it is in a separate category). I’ve watched thousands of videos from vlogbrothers and Crash Course. I went to Vidcon in 2014 and met John in person for about five seconds, handing him my business card and a #JustinCarrWantsWorldPeace luggage tag before he was escorted to his next event by security. My love of language has blossomed into three young adult manuscripts, two feature films, a handful of short films, and hundreds of poems, songs, and essays. Though my inner and outer lives have changed substantially since I first wept onto the pages of TFiOS, I’m still anxious, and often. I’m still terrified of romantic rejection and I still put myself out there frequently and embarrassingly. I’m still a bookworm and I’m still a writer and I’m still a nerdfighter. And I think I always will be. John Green and his books have a special place in my heart. So when he announced that his first new book in almost six years is coming out this fall, I was overcome with emotion. Turtles All The Way Down isn’t just a book. It’s a historical artifact from the future, a piece of my past hurtling towards me from the opposite direction. When I think of John Green’s work, I think of my cringey adolescence, my weirdly small glasses and then my weirdly big glasses, my difficulty with my weight and my stunted social development. I think of the hours I spent reblogging fan art and GIF sets of real people that I’d mythologized into characters by watching their YouTube videos for so long. I think of my transition from Cute Little Girl to Awkward Bookish Teen to Real Human Woman. I was 14 when I read my first John Green book. I will be 20 when I read Turtles All The Way Down. The chasm between who I was and who I will be then is huge. Un-crossable by anyone but me. Right now, we’re a little less than four months out from the release of Turtles All The Way Down. Not much is known about the book, and I’d like to keep it that way. I’m feeling those tingly “no spoilers!” feelings I felt when I was in high school and enamored with the purity of an untouched literary experience. But as much as this book’s impending release is inspiring a unique kind of nostalgia in me, it’s also reminding me that I cannot go back. I cannot return to the innocent girl of 14 I was when I first heard John Green’s name, and I can’t get back the years I spent/lost/lived in between then and now. I can only move forward. I can only grow up. This book, in all likelihood, will not live up to my expectations. It will not change my life. It can’t, because though it will be my first time reading this particular book, it won’t be my first time becoming infatuated with literature. I’ve done that already. I may love this book, but there is a difference between falling in love with someone new and falling in love for the very first time. Before I met books with sweaty palms, dress askew, tongue heavy in my mouth. So…come here often? Now, each story is met with a knowing smile, legs crossed at the ankles like they’re supposed to be, no lipstick on the wine glass. Your place or mine? Before this book comes out, and I form any opinions about the content or the style, I would like to extend a heartfelt thank you to John Green. If not for his careful handiwork, if not for the immense trust that he puts in his young readers, if not for his heart-wrenching stories, I might never have been drawn to great books the way I am now. Thank you for caring. Thank you for writing even when your illness handcuffed you, tried to make you stop. Thank you for making videos about hard topics and silly ones. I may grow up, but I will never outgrow you and your words, John. Keep publishing books, and I’ll keep reading them, no matter how old we both get.

via @withfeelingoncemore

#nfstories #john green #hank green #tfios #turtles all the way down #nerdfighteria #reading #submission

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toomanysurveys9 · 5 years

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What is your favourite dinosaur? i’ve always liked long necks and t-rexs. Would you rather live with wolves or tigers? wolves seemed to mostly work alright for mowgli. :p Have you ever forgotten what a certain kind of pain felt like? i mean. not really that i can think of. Do you prefer water from the tap or bottled water? bottled, for sure. or any filtered water. i would drink tap as long as it was filtered.

Do you actually use any of the shampoo hotels provide? i have before. they’re never all that good though.

What do you remember the most about your childhood? playing house with ashley. playing barbies. going to florida every spring break. Do you feel as if someone has robbed something from you? not that i can think of. Have you ever stared at the sky and wondered if it was all worth it? not necessarily while staring at the sky, but i have definitely wondered that more than once in my life. Would you rather have a pet dinosaur or have mythical creatures be real? mythical creatures. i wish our world could be that cool. What age did you get your first hair cut? i have no idea. Do you have a favourite toy from childhood still? i have a few stuffed animals, and this giant cloth doll that i was given by our land lady after i was born and my parents brought me home. What are your thoughts on the end of the world? just that it’s going to happen. i hope it waits until after my littles grow up though. Which sports do you enjoy watching? i’m not into sports.. Have you ever made bread? i have not. Would your childhood self be disappointed? hm. i mean. maybe a little since i’m not doing the jobs i wanted to do back then... but i think she wouldn’t be too upset though. we have a house and the best two kids in the world. plus jacob. he works hard for us. even if i do bitch tooo much. Do you think in the future you’ll have done yourself proud? i really hope so. Did you read The Great Gatsby before seeing the movie? i’ve never read the book and i have never seen the movie either. What do you feel about movies made from books? there are some really good ones, and some really bad ones. but i feel like almost all of them miss some huge parts of the books that they should have included. but i know that’s not really feasible either, because if they included every part readers deemed important, movies would last forever. Has anything ever fallen asleep on you? yeah. animals. my husband. my littles. Do you have to use the bathroom? i do not. Is the above question too invasive? nope.

What do you feel about surgeries? Do they worry you? they’re scary.. always. Do you have a tumblr? obviously.

Would you rather have an open book shelf or one with doors? open. Do you need a large or small place to live comfortably? i’m pretty content with the house we have. it’s four bedroom, one bath. we made the family room into a fifth bedroom. it’s still pretty small for the number of people we have, but it’ll be good for jacob, wyatt, eliana, and me. the only downsides are not having a garage, and only one bathroom. the bathroom wouldn’t be an issue if it were just the four of us. next house we buy, we definitely are going to make sure we get a garage. Would you ever consider moving to another country? i kind of considered it, briefly, for a year. but that would have been really hard with wyatt. Have you ever dropped everything and reevaluated? kind of i guess. Do you play minecraft? if so, feelings about servers? i do not. my brother, dad, and jacob played for a little bit. Do you long for easier times? i mean. i would love for finances to improve so we could catch up all of our bills and not get behind again. hopefully a job works out for me soon. Do you believe that life gets easier or we just get stronger? i think you just figure out how to manage because you have to. Do you ever wonder why religion came about? i know why people believe in it. or the general reason. Would you ever consider shaving your head? i’ve thought about it lately. i’m getting so annoyed with my hair and just everything. lol. Would you rather belong to a cult or a religion you feel is wrong? i would rather not belong to either. Have you ever considered murder? definitely not. Kill a man or a woman? i have never killed anyone and i would never want to... as of right now. if someone does something to my kids, you might have to ask me again and the answer might change. Would you like to live in a realm where the zombie apocalypse is possible? i would rather not. Are you afraid of any animals? Reason? i mean, yeah. i’m scared of most animals that can cause serious harm to me, especially if seen in the wild. Someone knocks on your door three times right now, do you answer? depends who it was. Do you read creepypastas? i have before i think but i’m not sure. Can you sleep afterwards? i don’t know for sure that i have.

#personal #question #questions #random #surveys #survey

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