#she really is like a summer feel good plays on the radio type neat

[gyeheoni]

#verivery #she really is like a summer feel good plays on the radio type neat #beat * #can’t be mad #🌱.mp3 #series ‘o’ [round 3:whole] #wish u were here #Spotify

[carriagelamp]

Since it’s Pride Month, I decided this year I wanted to raid the library for a bunch of different queer books to read. Mostly graphic novels in this case, because I’ve had a hard time settling into much reading lately... thought hopefully now that it’s summer and I finally have my second shot I’ll be able to relax a bit more and dig into some heavier novels again. For now, enjoy some light, queer reads that I indulged in this June.

A Wolf Called Wander

A beautiful novel I had been hearing lots about. This story follows the young wolf Swift, who grows up knowing that he and his pack are the mountains, and the mountains are them. It’s in those mountains that he grows and learns and loves… until disaster strikes and he finds himself viciously torn apart from his family and forced out of the mountains that have always meant home to him. Forced to survive on his own. Swift then begins a gruelling journey that makes him face injury, starvation, and the everpresent danger of humans as he seeks a new place he can call home, and new people with whom he can form a pack.

This is all based on the true story of a tagged wolf known as OR-7, following the unbelievable route he took through Oregon and northern California! It was a very neat read, and I’d definitely recommend it if you enjoy stories told from an animal’s perspective because this book is a master class in it.

Bloom

I decided for June to try to read a handful of different queer books, and this was one of the first graphic novels I picked up. It is a super sweet story and the art is lovely. It’s about Ari, a boy who has just graduated high school and is now desperate to move away from his small town and his family’s struggling bakery, to join his band in the city where they hope to make it big. An agreement is finally reached: Ari’s father will let him leave, if he can find someone who can replace him in the bakery, which is how Ari meets Hector, someone who sees artistry and peace in baking. For anyone that’s read Check, Please, it gives off those types of vibes!

Boule et Bill: Bill est Maboul

Another book of Dupuis comics, because I can’t get enough of them! This one I just stumbled across and ended up reading on a whim but it was very cute. Geared younger than the others I’ve read, but still quite funny. It’s the charming hijinks of a young boy, his dog, and the family they live with. Each page or so is a different stand alone joke, a bit like Calvin and Hobbes except expanded beyond a single strip.

Chicken Run: Chicken Pies for the Soul

This was a ridiculous urge I got and had to follow. I recently rewatched Chicken Run (which is, of course, one of the best movies ever made) and felt the need to see if it had ever been novelized. Well, I found something better than a novelization! This is a chapter book with “advice” and stories written by the various characters, post-movie. It really does a good job with grasping the different characters’ voices and making something simple and funny out of it. It was very cute (and available on The Internet Archive if anyone else feels like reading something ridiculous!)

Doodleville

I picked this up on a whim and honestly, I shouldn’t have bothered. It was not very impressive. Very mediocre, awkward feeling artwork, and a story that only slightly manages to redeem it. The concept was kind of neat, and I did like how the ending came about, the rest was rather… plodding. I did not like the main character at all, her friends felt very Intentionally Quirky Aren’t We Cute :3 in a way that just tries too hard, and… yeah. Meh. It technically gets the “queer graphic novel flag” but it’s so in-passing that it feels rather excessive to give it that.

If you are interested, it’s about a world were doodles actually exist as living creatures that can be drawn into existence (the rather unsettling implications of which is never fully explored). This is all well and good, until the main character draws a monster and takes it with her to her art club... where it begins ravanging not only her doodles, but those of her friends. Together they need to work together to figure out how to stop this menace.

FRNCK v4

Phenomenal. I adore the FRNCK series, and book four wrapped up the first “cycle”, revealing several of the big secrets dogging the series so far, and changing how things are going to be able to run in the future.

If you haven’t seen me talk about it before, FRNCK is a graphic novel (a franco-belgian bande dessinée) about a young orphan, Franck, who’s chafing under the constant parade of uninterested foster parents that visit the orphanage he lives in. Determined to learn about his mysterious abandonment instead, he flees the orphanage… but finds himself tumbling through time, landing among a family of cave-people who rather reluctantly take him in and ensure this modern boy doesn’t die in the strange, dangerous new surroundings he finds himself in. You can get these ones in English as e-books, so if you want a really kickass graphic novel series to read please try these.

Haikyu!!

I’ve heard so much about Haikyu!! that I finally gave in and picked up the first book from the library. And I gotta say, it’s well worth the hype! This series really does capture the best parts of a good sports manga -- which is to say the team is filled with interesting, enjoyable character who all need to learn to pull together, boost each other’s strengths, and cover for each other’s weaknesses. Love me some found family tropes and this series oozes it in the best possible way. And then you also get some very cool action scenes as it makes high school volleyball seem like the most intense thing on earth. I can’t wait to continue it

Queer Eye

I haven’t been keeping up with Queer Eye but I was watching it ravenously when it first came out, and this seemed like a very cathartic book to read… and it really was. It had the same gentle, loving encouragement as the show. It doesn’t expect you to change your entire life, but to learn to embrace who you are, and take small steps to enhance those things. There a segment written (presumably) by each member of the Fab Five, explaining the mentality behind what they do on the show and how you can grow in those areas too. It’s very zen.

Spinning

I got this graphic novel out at the same time as Bloom, but it was the one that interested me less of the two... though that’s just because I have less interest in “real world” slice of life as a genre and this one is meant to be autobiographical. If you’re into that, you’ll probably love this because it really is stunning. Very pretty, and the format and pacing is all really well done. It’s a coming of age story for Tillie as she grows up dealing with a crosscountry move, complicated friendships, a burgeoning attraction to girls, and attending competitive figure skating classes.

This Place: 150 Years Retold

A stunning and heart-wrenching graphic novel told by a collection of different First Nation’s authors/artists, recounting oral histories about the 150 years since the colonialist formation of the country known as “Canada”. In other words, this is a post-apocalypse story, but one that really happened and that entire peoples are still fighting to survive. It’s very eye opening and beautifully told. Very strongly recommend the read, especially if you’re at all interested in history.

Torchwood: Serenity

Whoops, not technically a book. I had thought these were technically audiobooks at first, but rather they’re audio dramas that were played on the radio. Still, I decided to include one because I’ve been listening to them like a person possessed and they’re too fun not to at least mention. Let me indulge in my obsessions.

If you don’t know Torchwood, it’s a BBC series that spins-off from Doctor Who, focusing on the enigmatic and flirtatious Captain Jack Harkness, who is running the covert organization known as Torchwood, which is tasked to protect humanity from and prepare them for alien contact. It’s goofy and campy but also more adult and heavy than Doctor Who tends to get, so it is (in my opinion) a really fascinating series. Though it also has content warnings coming out the wazoo so maybe make sure it’s for you before delving in.

Serenity specifically is possibly one of the best Torchwood stories I’ve ever experienced. The Torchwood team concludes that there’s an undercover alien hiding in the idyllic gated community Serenity Plaza, and so that means it’s up to Jack and Ianto to go undercover as a happily married couple and flush out the alien without being discovered first. Even if it means being sickly sweet together, pretending to care about the local neighbourhood barbecues, and actually caring a bit too much about the Best Front Lawn competition. What is truly magical about this one, is that it manages to make it a Fake Dating AU despite the fact that Jack and Ianto are actually dating in canon. But they’re both used to dating as a pair of alien hunters with insanely dysfunctional lives, and who now need to figure out how to deal with domesticity. It is marvellous.

Wilderlore: The Accidental Apprentice

A middle grade novel that felt a bit like a cross between Harry Potter and Pokemon. It’s about orphan Barclay Thorne who wants nothing more than to be accepted in the rule-bound village of Dullshire, and live up to his apprenticeship as a mushroom farmer. He certainly wants nothing to do with the fearsome Beasts who live beyond the village, deep in the Woods or the sinister Lorekeepers that bond with them. It was, after all, a Beast that had killed his parents all those years ago. But when he finds himself at the very edge of the forest, hunting for an elusive mushroom, he is suddenly unable to avoid any of that. Not when a wild girl and her bonded dragon appear to summon a horrible Beast and end up getting Barclay bonded to it instead. Now, if Barclay ever wants to be welcomed back into his home, he has no choice but to venture into the Woods and find a way to sever the bond imprisoning him to the massive, monstrous wolf now imprinted on his body as a living tattoo.

I honestly can’t decide how I felt about this one. I feel like it’d be a really fun read for maybe a grade 5 to 7 student? I was a bit more meh about it. It was fine, but it was very hard not to draw unfavourable parallels to Harry Potter. But for a kid who’s never read Harry Potter? Or even an adult that has but is looking for something different to scratch that itch, this might be a good book to try. I’ll probably try reading the second book when it comes out.

#book review #book reviews #canlit #canadian literature #queer lit #queer books #pride month #wilderlore #torchwood serenity #this place: 150 years retold #cbc #spinning #tillie walden #amanda foody #queer eye #haikyu #haikyuu!! #furudate haruichi #frnck #dupuis #boule et bill #chicken run #bloom #kevin panetta #a wolf called wander #rosanne parry

[carolinenicolettes]

MEET CAROLINE ESTELLE NICOLETTE ! 

(IN)CORRECT QUOTE -

“ this is taking too long ! i’m going to miss the farmer’s market ! ” —scary terry or scary caroline? who knows

“ she liked messy beds and movie nights without any lights on. she liked the quiet company of a few good friends. her idea of love was gentle and silent, like a whisper of a touch. some things are magical and magic, contrary to popular opinion, is often found in the most ordinary of places. ”

BASIC

NAME: caroline estelle nicolette NICKNAMES: n o p e it is caroline or NADA  AGE: 21 BIRTHDAY: may 1st SPECIES: starchild  GENDER: cisfemale PRONOUNS: she/her

FAMILY

MOTHER: amelia nicolette — born into money, massive name in the fashion industry, only wears fashionable power suits and celestial themed jewelry, drinks expensive whiskey neat FATHER: unknown PARENTS: raised by her mother, kind of. had a nanny named maggie growing up whom she loved dearly and was very good friends with a doorman named robert as well. it takes a village, you know. FAMILY: direct relation to the nicolette family that you all know and love aka odette. caroline’s mother is odette’s father’s sister. SIBLINGS: not at all.

PHYSIAL ATTRIBUTES

FACE CLAIM: scarlett leithold NATIONALITY: american HEIGHT: 5′7 WEIGHT: 139lbs BUILD: slender, and a bit insecure about that HAIR: long with a subtle wave , nearly down to her waist for now  HAIR COLOR: golden blonde with a few summery platinum highlights EYE COLOR: baby bluuuue DOMINANT HAND: left ANOMALIES: during warmer months, and nearly year round since moving to california, there are little freckles dusted across her nose  SCENT: seasalt, cocounut, sunscreen . . . . and occasionally mon paris by ysl ACCENT: she fought against that new york accent tooth and nail so none ALLERGIES: cats but also bullshit DISORDERS: dbd — dumb bitch disorder FASHION: an odd mix of vintage. corduroy dresses, plaid skirts, ribbed turtlenecks, velvet headbands, doc marten boots. a lil 60s, a lil 70s, a lil 90s. despite having quite a bit of money, she’s always wearing at least one thing that looks hand-me-down and that’s because her mother never threw anything away, so it likely is.  NERVOUS TICS: rocks back and forth from her toes to her heels, death grip on a camera strap, tucking her hair behind her ears QUIRKS: collects enamel pins, always has a camera on her, closes her eyes when trying to focus on listening

LIFESTYLE

RESIDES: east side, victoria BORN: new york city RAISED: new york city VEHICLE:  black 1969 chevy camaro, rarely ever drives it though as she bikes/skates most places PHONE: iphone 11 pro :\ COMPUTER: mac desktop collecting DUST PETS: too busy sneezing bc of odette’s cat

HIGH SCHOOL EDUCATION: graduated COLLEGE EDUCATION: senior MAJOR: museum studies, photography MINOR: film studies CAREER: freelance photographer, current waste of space living off of that family $$$ EXPERIENCE: apprenticeships in fashion photography, internships in museum curation  TRAINED IN: photography and classical ballet (reluctantly) OTHER: literally just .... she’s had a camera of some sort in her hand since she was like 12

POLITICAL AFFILIATION: liberal RELIGION: worships the ground stevie nicks, cher, and debbie harry walk on but that’s about it BELIEFS: you have to be really careful when buying sweaters from thrift stores because 80% of them are absolutely haunted MISDEMEANORS: none FELONIES: none  TICKETS AND/OR VIOLATIONS: NONE  DRUGS: once or twice but she’s strung out enough on her own  SMOKES: weed, on occasion. cigarettes are gross. ALCOHOL: leisurely, mostly socially. Queen of Beer Pong™ DIET: fairly healthy, not at all picky, a little bougie.

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: labels are stupid SEXUAL ORIENTATION: and sexuality is fluid MARTIAL STATUS: never going to happen CHILDREN: *nervous laughter* AVAILABILITY: not at all LOOKING FOR: she’s actually legally blind so

LANGUAGES: english, french

PHOBIAS: fuck spiders SPECIFICALLY. might cry but also doesn’t want you to kill it just... take it out and awaaaay HOBBIES: photography, film — the act of and the watching of, hiking, live shows, bothering odette. literally has/had 3294328049 of them but is really only good at photography/film TRAITS: + adaptable, loyal, charismatic, clever, playful, adventurous ; - flighty, forgetful, cynical, unforgiving, disorganized, impatient SOCIAL MEDIA: the works - snapchat, twitter, instagram

FAVOURITE

LOCATION: photo pit at small venue concerts, anywhere within 10 feet of the pacific SPORTS TEAM: whomst  GAME: playin w people’s HEARTS ...... jk ....... kinda MUSIC: haim, fleetwood mac, the aces... any band with a female lead singer SHOWS: ghost adventures, big little lies MOVIES: frances ha, almost famous, bob dylan: don’t look back RADIO STATION: anything that strictly plays oldies FOOD: loves baked goods BEVERAGE: cold brew coffee, cinnamon spice tea COLOR: a nice dusty rose :\

CHARACTER

MORAL ALIGNMENT: chaotic good MBTI: isfp — the adventurer ENNEAGRAM: type 7, the enthusiast  ZODIAC: taurus HOGWARTS HOUSE: hufflepuff TAROT CARD: the empress TV TROPES: max mayfield, serena van der woodsen, ainsley howard, donna sheridan and honestly? eloise  SONG: summer girl - haim

IDEOLOGIES: shove it down shove all the emotions DOWN do not feel. you can tell a lot about a person based on the music they listen to when they’re sad. three is the luckiest number.

THE RUNDOWN 

amelia nicolette never intended to be a mother. she was freshly 21, inches from a moment that could launch her career in the fashion industry, and she hadn’t been in love or even interested in the idea since she was seventeen. so when a one night stand with a wealthy older man, left her with morning sickness and an odd appetite for two, she was less than thrilled. 

he was even less thrilled, insisting that she terminate the pregnancy. i’ll drive you, he’d said in a hushed tone. only then did she see the tan line wrapped around his ring finger. a married man. a one night stand. and a complete bastard . amelia decided, then and there, to carry to term and then put the baby up for adoption.

until may 1st at 3AM on the dot when the most obnoxious scream split through the air. a baby, just slightly too small, kicking and screaming relentlessly was born in manhattan. a baby who wouldn’t shut up until she was placed in the arms of her mother, where she fell quiet and calm and she slept. 

amelia nicolette never intended to fall in love, but holding her tiny baby girl, she knew then and there that she was a goner. caroline, as a song that sounded like joy played from a radio at the nurse’s station. estelle, for the stars. nicolette, the only family name she’d ever need. 

for three years, it was just the two of them in a new york penthouse, and amelia learned quickly that she was good at being a mother. but that didn’t change her free-spirited nature or the way her heart had a tendency to yearn for more. she had the resources, and caroline was old enough — . . . and she’d been sketching for years, sitting on top of a portfolio that piled a mile high.

along comes nanny, maggie, and thus began the life she’d lead for the rest of her childhood. mom spent a lot of time at work, building a fashion brand that went international by the time caroline was 6. because of this, she was gone more often than not, leaving caroline to grow up under the watchful eye of a nanny.

but she called every night. made it home for every big holiday, every recital, every birthday. in the summers, caroline would spend her time split between visiting her mother, visiting odette, and visiting a beach house in victoria. there was a certain lack of permanence that caused her to be adaptable, allowed her to be comfortable with change and give into the whims of a free spirit like her mother’s.

but people filtered in and out, came and went, and on the flip side of the same coin, there was a sense of detachment , a fear of getting too close to people who would move out or move on.

despite this, caroline never found herself to be lonely. she was a friendly little thing with bright eyes and a sparkling curiosity, picking up hobbies instead of toys, but never quite being exceptional at any of them. she made friends with doormen and caused problems for the people behind the desk. she became good, early on, at keeping herself busy, making her own fun – . . . all things that have very much carried into adulthood.

she was lucky, and she’s fully aware of it which is why, from a young age, she always did her best to find ways to give that luck to people who seemed to need it. 

things had a tendency to be tumultuous, what with her mother coming and going and her very best friend being in and out of the hospital, but she tried to go with the flow as best as she could. things were good but never truly exceptional.

until she met jude. he’d been in the same children’s wing as odette, and they’d known each other for a little bit before caroline met him. the three of them were inseparable, at first, simply best friends. but as they got older, feelings shifted and two friends became more than that.

our girl was in love for the very first time. and it was sweet and gentle and everything a first love is supposed to be. over time, that love grew, just as they did, and it was visible to anyone with eyes that they were in love. for two years, it was good, he was good. 

and then he wasn’t. despite two years of remission and a healthy life, he fell ill again. there was nothing to do but stand by and watch as six months passed by, far too quickly, and he slipped away into nothing. ultimately passing away just a week before his 20th birthday. 

caroline didn’t allow herself to feel it, for a while, lingering in the denial stage of grief for far too long. new york felt empty without him, without odette, without her mother, and it didn’t take much for her to pack her things and join her mother overseas, taking a gap year from school and focusing on herself, on her photography.

she spent a lot of time with a press pass around her neck. fashion shows and fashion shoots. major events and sports games. concerts and festivals. but there was one thing she loved more than anything else, and that was capturing the off-guard joy of life in candids of strangers on the street or in the crowds of bars and concerts. she found her own style, her own way of storytelling through a lens, and slowly but surely she began to heal.

still, there was no way around the way her heart felt a little heavier, a little darker, and how smiles from strangers at the other end of the bar made her stomach churn. she developed an aversion to new relationships of any sort, anything deeper than surface level becoming a bit too close for comfort. 

and while life traveling was fun, she missed having a sense of home, so she went to where the only other person who felt like home was, finding herself moving into a house with odette in victoria.

she’s been around for a couple of months, coming out of a gap year and looking to finish her degree in the spring. victoria, for now, is home.

these days she’s a little bit more cynical. a little bit less likely to let people too close. a little bit lost but also who isn’t when they’re 21

#oof #— &&. CAROLINE ; bio .

[shochmonster]

TEASER [for my next writing project]

Yeah, yeah, I know I’ve been a little quiet lately, but I assure you it is with good reason! While OLLIE is making its final edits before heading out on submission, and now that I’ve revamped PINTO anew, I started something totally original to follow after. Here’s a snippet of what I’ve written so far. You Downton heads will be happy to find we’re back in the 20′s again :) 

When the lads at the pub asked why I did it, I told ‘em it were on account of those tarty London whores. Couldn’t stop thinking about them, I said – what, with their plunging necklines and thick tits and all – who had time for a proper wifey? It would have only been cruel to little Marlene if I’d gone through with it, sharing a bed with her while I dreamed up all the dirty things I’d like to do with a fat-arsed slut on hands and knees. Of course, the boys agreed: they said as much with the two rounds of ale they stood up for me while I made my confession. Besides, it weren’t really that much of a fib. Not really.

In actuality, the truth was dull, and affected me in a nuanced fashion that required the sort of context you don’t talk about – even at the pub. Most of me Liverpuddle mates were shipyard blokes – real salt of the earth, Cammell Laird types – and already liked to have a laugh over how soft a career in service had made me hands, of how nice me nails were. It was unlikely that they’d understand why a plain letter in the post would be reason enough to bin a pretty lass and all the carnal accoutrements that came with her.

“But I seen her, your Marlene,” said Fat Rupert, a riveter from Birkenhead. He was a hefty bloke with an even heftier moustache, which twitched whenever he spoke. “Such a pretty, coy thing. And that small mouth – like a tight, little bud.”

“Bet she were a tight, little virgin, too,” interjected Will, lifting his fourth pint glass high and punctuating his declaration with a hearty belch. “She certainly giggled like one.”

“That’s the trouble,” says I, trying me barmy best to burst over the irrelevant detail.

“How?” Fat Rupert guffawed, slurping at his ale. It were rather disgusting how the head of his beer caked his thick whiskers, like a walrus cutting through seafoam. “Ain’t noffin’ better’n the maiden voyage.”

“I think I prefer the experienced ones,” I offered vaguely, drowning the details in another hearty glug-glug-glug of ale.

“Ohh,” hummed Will; “Hence the whores.”

“Right, the whores,” I agreed distantly, my head otherwise stuffed fat with nostalgia for Quince Orchard Park and the life I used to lead there. Blame it on that infernal letter, anticipated and unexpected all at once. If I were half as clever as I liked to boast, I’d’ve never writ the card that prompted the reply, and I’d’ve married Marlene without ever thinking of old Holly again. The wedding was marked for summer’s end, but all I could think of was how Holly and I once ruled the servants’ hall of Quince Orchard. Smug, oily and bursting with havoc, those had been the days! How spoilt I’d been to take that for granted, and yet, here I was, drowning in hubris and beer. The card were only meant it as a courtesy – the sort of last ditch call that disguises a farewell to times you only just realized were happy ones. What I got mailed in return was the uncorking of the turmoil I thought I’d repressed ages ago, and an onset of verklempt mania.

“I don’t see why you’ve got to choose,” inserted Fat Rupert, moustache sweeping the rim of his pint glass. “Marry the virgin, fuck the whores – that’s what I’d do.”

“What it is, right, is complicated,” I snapped, clutching my own glass so tightly, I thought I might crush it in my fist.

Will snorted, somehow managing wry, idiotic amusement in the halo of my irritation. “All this comin’ from the corker who fucked His Lordship’s daughter. Ain’t you bein’ a bit, well, prude, like?”

“Ain’t prude to be prudent,” I retorted, slamming my glass onto the bar with enough force to startle Fat Rupert. “And if you’ll recall, all that mess got me the sack, and here I am, workin’ the docks with you lousy sods.”

“Sounds like a fat cat whining after his fat lifestyle,” Will simpered. He was a true product of Liverpool – a real Scoucer spawned in the mucky Mersey River and left to crumble in the shipyards like a dried-out barnacle. To Will, anything from the countryside constituted as posh, even if it was only a stiff job in service that had more to do with how pretty your face was than owt else. Lucky breeding made me tall enough, fit enough – and just German enough to pass as goyish. It were the only reason I managed to find work after I came home from France, so I wasn’t about to complain. That was Will’s bit.

Fat Rupert’s empathy was only slightly more reassuring. He clapped me on the back with enough force to bruise. “Sounds more like the cat’s just got cold paws.” he chortled, massaging the welt he’d smacked through my shirt. “Don’t worry, me laddo. Happens to the best of us. You got your whole life to try again!”

But Will wouldn’t let it go – most likely because he couldn’t catch a woman if his life depended on it. “So our Eddie’s man enough to face the Kaiser’s guns, but he can’t hook a gel?” he hiccupped, just short of spilling his ale onto Fat Rupert’s duffle coat, which was disgusting and sooty, but still marked with the chevrons he’d earned after Verdun. The near-accident got Will the full strength of Fat Rupert’s mishegas, which usually spiked after the third drink or so.

“Our Eddie drove a tank through Cambrai whilst you were in convalescence,” Fat Rupert snapped, a hammy finger right in Will’s chest. His mustache bristled, reddish whiskers clashing against his ruddy drunkard’s cheeks.

“Yeah, and me leg’s still dodgy, you jerk’n’bed,” sniffed Will, unperturbed. As if to prove his point, he rapped a creaky knee with the back of his hand, though it was hard to know how much of it was just mithering. Will and Fat Rupert had this particular argument on a weekly basis, as steady as clockwork and about as melodramatic as a radio play. I let them drag on, too lost in me own head to worry about which one of them were goin’ to get laid out first. Besides, it distracted them from their nosy questions about Marlene, and why the mere reminder of Holly warranted such an abrupt change in plan. Not that I’d even got that far in my explanation: the less they knew of Holly, the better. I only wished I could say the same.

I hadn’t heard from old Holly since I got sacked and drudged off to Liverpool – though in fairness, I hadn’t made it easy, either. Any prim intentions to try writin’ got buried in the six months I spent wallowing in me cups over how foolish I’d been. Guilt overwhelmed me whenever I got even half a mind to take a nib to paper, overpacked with all the petty things that had inspired my betrayal. How was I to start up any communication after all that? To write as if I hadn’t jammed the knife in – as if I hadn’t twisted it cruelly at the fore?

Marlene turned up somewhere in that grim season of self-pity, intruding upon my vulnerable existence right when it was particularly sore. Every working day, we both took the Mersey Railway into Lime Street – even got on at the same ingress and all. Our casual salutations, the gentlemanly tip of a flatcap, her polite dip of the chin, went on in silence for about a month. I only knew she were a nurse on account of the starch pinafore she wore over her dresses, her hair always neat and pinned beneath the same little bonnet. She wore the uniform proudly – a bleeding heart that had tended to shell-shocked veterans all through the war, and then onwards, after the hun stuff finally kicked her papa underground. That was the second detail she ever shared with me, the first being her blushing shock that I knew where she lived. I told her it was because I was desperate to meet her; in truth, I’d only discovered it by drunken happenstance, stumbling home with Will and Fat Rupert as she blazed through the night like an airy pixie, her hospital whites aflame with moonglow. If I had to surmise it, convenience mainly dictated my evolution with her: she wanted another man to dote on, and I needed the cooing.  

I let it go on for nearly a year, which is roughly how long it takes to stitch up a cracked heart. The afternoon I put a ring on Marlene’s finger followed the morning I’d dropped that damning and wistful missive into the post, Quince Orchard Park emblazoned beneath Holly’s full and proper name. Procuring a positive response to one of those tasks was significantly simpler than the other. Interestingly, destroying that same progress is just as easy – and a method which I am excellently schooled in. Marlene will mend: she’s a fixer, after all.

“So did you tell her all that when you broke it off?” Fat Rupert interrupted my musing with a rude elbow to the ribs. “About the whores and such?” The pinkening of his cheeks had intensified with his desire to hear more saucy chat, his ginger moustache delineated only by the creamy foam dotting the whiskers. Oy, but Fat Rupert gossiped like a girl.

“I’m not a complete schmuck,” I snapped, folding my arms over my chest so that I could feel the thin shape of the letter that had triggered it all inside my coat pocket. “There’s just some stuff you can’t say that plainly. Especially to women,” I explained further, certain the paper envelope would burn through the lining in my jacket, tattooing its neatly typed communiqué into my flesh. Cold, regimented and not written by Holly at all, the note came from the new butler at the Orchard and very cordially informed that Holly had moved on. It might have been binned straightaway if the message ended there, but no.

Dear Mr. Finch:

Please be informed that Hollingsworth has accompanied His Lordship’s second daughter, the Lady Catherine, to London for the purposes of establishing her own household, and is now in her direct employ. Any further business or inquiries can be directed to the enclosed address. Congratulations on your nuptials.

When arranged in the formation of Lady Catherine’s new residence, the common alphabet read like hieroglyphs, strange and vaguely mystic. The idea of His Lordship’s mousey shrew of a daughter doing anything on her own was laughable, furthered only by how uncharacteristic it seemed for Holly to have followed her there. The big manor house at Quince Orchard had been as much Holly’s castle as His Lordship’s, and seemed a rather large sacrifice to make for the boring sister, who never went out and was about as interesting as a histrionic sigh. The address didn’t even mark a particularly fancy neighborhood, neither, so there was either something to hide, or the war had gouged the aristocracy more than the papers would let you believe. I chose to believe there was a little concoction of both.

TBC

#writing #thommy #new projects #not sure how else to tag this since it's not got a solid title yet

[dear-mrs-otome]

50 More Interesting Questions

The last list of questions that made the rounds sucked, so I (@cavern-of-bells) made my own list! I’ll fill this out myself later, but here’s the blank one to get the ball rolling. The rule is: fill this out and tag at least one person you’d like to know more about! Or just fill it out! Or don’t! Answer only some of them! Make up your own questions! “What kind of requirement is that”, you ask? A reasonable one! Who am I to tell you what to do? Anything goes!

1. What kind of food can’t you stand?: Applesauce. I can eat just about anything, and I’ll try darn near anything once, but applesauce slays me. IDK man, the texture just....*shudder* 2. If you could choose one minor inconvenience to never have to deal with again, what would you pick?: When your sheets do that thing in the middle of the night, and the corner comes loose and you gotta fix it when you’re all groggy or else just sleep on bare mattress? Drives me crazy. 3. Have you got any useless talents?: I play a mean hand whistle, and abuse it liberally to play the theme to The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly. Also I can wiggle my ears up, down, and in circles. 4. If you could be really really good at one thing, what would it be?: I always wanted to be a dancer. Too short though, and never did it as a kid. Too old now. 5. Name a few people you think are extremely good-looking: Tom Hiddleston. Mila Kunis. Natalie Portman. Idris Elba. Cha Seung-won 6. What was your favorite way to pass the time as a kid?: Reading. I used to get in trouble for reading too much - I’d sit up in my window at all hours of the night, reading by the light of our neighbor’s porch lamp. The worst punishment my parents ever came up with was taking all the books out of my room. 7. What is something you’re proud of?: I’ve had a couple of short stories published in a literary journal. I also worked as an editor for one, briefly. 8. What’s one character flaw in people that you just can’t tolerate?: Being chronically late. It’s so disrespectful, and just says that you care more about yourself than others. 9. Do you consider yourself to be more of a leader or a follower?: Neither? I tend to do my own thing, frankly. I’m happy doing either though. 10. What kind of student are/were you?: I was always fairly good, though I have a real problem with procrastination.  11. Butterfly effect question! Has there ever been a seemingly minor decision you’ve made (at the time) that ended up having a profound influence on your life?: On a whim, I sent a Myspace (remember that?) message to my old dorm friend from college years after graduation, a boy who lived on the floor above me and who I spent most of my freshman year pining after his roommate. When we finally connected, ostensibly for coffee just to catch up, he asked me if I wanted to actually go to coffee, or if I wanted to take a chance on the ‘Mystery Option’, as he put it.

I chose the Mystery Option, and we’ve been together for 11 years now.

12. Name your most irrational fear/aversion: I hate anything related to parasites. Like, run screaming from the room if they’re in a movie or on TV. I still haven’t been able to watch any Aliens movie. 13. Are there any fictional characters you find especially relatable?: Jane Foster, from the Marvel cinematic universe. She’s earnest and awkward and passionate and smart, and I love her so, so much. 14. If you drink, what kind of drunk are you? Alternatively, what sort of person are you at parties?: I’m usually a happy drunk, who gets up to shenanigans.  15. Do you fall in love easily? Or does it usually take a long time for you to trust someone?: It takes me a long time. All of the men who’ve confessed to me have done so so? Fast? And I’m just...really? I never can reciprocate right away. 16. Would you rather have one close friend or 100 casual friends?: One close friend is worth a thousand casuals. 17. Do you consider yourself to be more of a slob or a neat-freak?: A bit of both. When it comes to certain things I’m a chaotic mess, and other things I’m a complete organizational neat freak. It’s mostly just a matter of how important it is to me. That being said, I can’t abide clutter for long. After awhile I lose my GD mind and have to straighten things up. 18. Describe a place (imaginary or real) that you would find incredibly cozy: An overstuffed window seat in an old Victorian manor, with a view of a rainstorm outside, with a pot of tea and a good book in hand. 19. Do you have kids? If not, do you want them someday?: I have 3. One is thirteen, one is six, and one is two. 20. What was your favorite book as a child? Beauty, by Robin McKinley 21. Name one thing you just don’t get what all the hype is about: 50 Shades of Gray. And all of the Transformers movies, those look awful. 22. Name one thing that you think is tragically underrated: Being alone. Driving a fast car on a warm summer’s night on a windy country road, with the windows down, radio up, just me and my thoughts and my hair loose in the wind. It’s one of my favorite things in the world. 23. If you had to be glued to a person for a month, real or fictional (who you have never met), who would you choose?: Barack Obama. I think he probably would make for fascinating conversation, and he’d handle the entire situation with grace and aplomb. 24. What’s something you’d like the chance to do someday?: Take a very specific trip in Asia - fly in to Sapporo, ride the trains and such south through Japan, and take a ferry from Osaka to Busan, to fly home from Seoul. We have tentative plans for 2019, let’s see if those pan out! 25. Do you typically speak your mind when you have a controversial opinion? Or do generally prefer to not rock the boat?: I tend to keep my opinions to myself, unless I feel pretty comfortable with the people I’m talking to. I don’t handle conflict well. 26. What’s the dumbest fad you’ve been caught up in?: Oh man, I tend to avoid most but...in the early aughts I had a terrible haircut, long in the front and super short and spiky in the back, and I thought it was so punk and cool. 27. What’s something you thought was cool as a kid/adolescent, but now cringe at yourself for?: See the above answer ^ 28. What’s a trait you consider to be very admirable?: People who can make small talk easily. My husband is one of those, and I usually just stand back and watch in awe as he makes anyone comfortable in about ten seconds flat. He’s a champion schmoozer. 29. Is there a particular kind of item people always tend to give you as gifts? (For instance, people always get you things with ducks on them because you like ducks, etc.): People always default to kitchen gadgets for me, and I’m 100% ok with this. I have the best stocked kitchen I know. 30. Do you speak multiple languages? Which ones?: Sadly, no. I can still speak a smattering of French and Spanish, but nothing resembling conversational fluency. 31. Would you rather live in the big city or the countryside?: Sometimes both. I love the outdoors and the silence and solitude of it all, especially a thick mossy forest of towering fir trees. (I blame being from the Northwest) But at the same time, I love the energy of a city and all the experiences you can have there. I’d die without new restaurants to try, or having a plethora of grocery stores to find whatever obscure ingredient I want from. 32. Has there ever been something you were certain you’d hate, but ended up loving?: Snorkeling. I am a passable swimmer at best, and deep water scares me, but there was just so much to look at! And TURTLES! I was too busy looking at everything to be even remotely nervous. 33. Do you mind being the center of attention, or do you prefer the spotlight to be on someone else?: Absolutely not. I’d rather crawl into a hole and die - I leave making a spectacle of himself to Mr. Otome, and I just watch with amusement from the sidelines. 34. Favorite holiday?: Halloween, all the way. We go big, decorate like mad, have a huge party, get hundreds of trick or treaters. I LOVE IT ALL. 35. Are you a more go-with-the-flow type of person, or do you need to have things planned meticulously?: I’m a planner, at least for the big picture. I can fudge the details but I gotta have a framework or I go crazy. 36. Is there something you loved so much you wish you could forget it and experience it all over again? (A tv show, book, series–anything.) : I wish I could experience Mass Effect all over again, from the start. I’d still fall in love with my awkward digital alien husband Garrus, I know, but it’d be nice to do it all fresh. 37. What hobbies do you have?: I cook and bake, obviously. I sew, do a bit of cosplay, and I knit. I read anything I can get my hands on, run semi-regularly, and also enjoy writing.  38. If you could have a superpower, but it was only mildly useful, what ability would you want to have?: The ability to find lost things. I’m not even talking Important Stuff like the Ark of the Covenant or Amelia Earhart - I’d just like to reliably know where the eff I put my car keys most days. 39. Something people are always surprised to learn about you: That I can sing so well. My speaking voice is meh and one of the things I like the least about myself, so when I do sing people are always shocked. 40. Something that took you way too long to figure out: That you have to live life for yourself. You can’t go about it deferring to other people’s whims or wishes - and there’s a time and a place to put your foot down and say, enough. There’s a difference between looking out for yourself, and being selfish.  41. Worst injury you’ve had? I’ve lived a pretty charmed life in this department. Maybe the time my little brother broke two of my fingers as a kid, smashing them with a rock. 42. Any morbid fascinations?: Serial killers and true crime stories. It’s awful and I cringe, but I love listening to those sorts of podcasts while I knit. 43. Describe your sense of humor: Dry and sarcastic. I’m the one who’s quiet for an entire conversation, and then comes in at the end with the cutting remark that has everyone both laughing and wondering where the heck I’d been the whole time. 44. If you had to be born in another era/place, which would you choose?: Honestly, as romantic as the past sounds, I know objectively how awful it all was for one reason or another. Whether it’s because health care was a joke, or women were treated horribly...but if I could have a perfect, romanticized version of the past, I’d say maybe 9th or 10th century Scandinavia. I love Vikings and Norse mythology. 45. Something you are irredeemably bad at: Opening beer bottles. I haven’t the foggiest clue why, but I always have to have someone else do it, or else I’ll end up wearing most of it. 46. Something that sucked but you’re glad you went through: My first marriage. It didn’t even suck for any dramatic reason, it was just a bad decision and a mistake for the both of us, a couple of dumb kids - but like all of the best sorts of mistakes I learned an inconceivable amount, about myself and life. And I got a pretty killer son out of it. I’d never trade a sad day of it for anything. 47. Would you rather have a really godawful ugly tattoo in a place that is only slightly inconvenient to conceal with clothing (upper arm, thigh, etc.), or the coolest, most beautiful tattoo ever in the middle of your face? (Neither tattoo can be removed or concealed with makeup, and the ugly tattoo will deeply offend anyone who sees it.): Ugly tattoo all the way, I think. I could always have it modified later maybe? 48. Are you more of an optimist or a pessimist?: I think I’m pretty optimistic actually. Or maybe just realistic. I don’t get flustered or worked up over much, because I definitely tend towards the ‘I’ve done what I can - what happens now will happen and there’s no sense wasting energy worrying over what I personally can’t change.’ 49. What would be the most flattering compliment someone could give you?: Compliment me on something I chose, or thought, or created. Compliments on looks are meaningless, since they’re entirely out of your control. 50. Something you feel people often misunderstand about you: I’m always labeled the quiet one, and some people let that mistakenly translate to apathy or disinterest.

A lot of the people I’d tag were already done, but I’d like to see answers from @deathatintervals @catchthespade @amigoingbananas and @fooljshgirl

#ask meme

[huge6s-blog]

RANDOM FACTS ABOUT THE MUN.

Repost, not reblog! Tag 6 muns you would like to get to know better when done!

Name: Kaitlyn! Please, for the love of god, never use it.

Nickname: Katy, Kat, variations; (Katydid, Katybug, Kitkat, etc.) But if you wanna call me something else, that’s fine too!

Age: 22! Simultaneously too old and a wee bab, lmao

Faceclaim: Not something I do! I could never pick just one, besides maybe my own face! (I’d thought about using Shuu Iwamine or Rize Kamishiro before, if that says anything haha)

Pronouns: Your highness/My liege She/Her! But “they/them” is good too.

Height: ~5’6”-5’7”; I can’t remember the last time I checked.

Birthday: Poppin’, obviously March 30th.

Aesthetic: Purple and black?? EGNautilus scientists tittering excitedly over adorable or exciting sea creatures. Omnipresent Mountain Dew cans, fast food and colorful kneesocks. 2AM adventures on clear nights in summer that last until dawn starts sending it’s first beams into the sky. Spacey FPS games and cutesy RPG and Pokemon games interspersed throughout. Weathered frames and tired eyes. ROBOTS… I have no idea, man. A lot of things!

Last song you listened to: “The Thief and the Moon” by Shawn James!

Favourite muse(s) you’ve written: kfkjdf. Sixes definitely counts,, Uhh. My first was a canon-divergent Eridan, who I’d played before Act 6 was even close to being a thing! And he was a lot of fun. Accidentally made a “do not that” meme that still sometimes plagues me to this day ldkfdk A dream-bubble/dead Karkat who’d been murdered in his timeline’s Gamzee’s rampage and only had one eye, he was a biiiig favorite. I loved having enough energy for that all; typing that much shittalk??? Was one of the most fun things I’ve ever done in roleplay, holy shit. Entire fucking PAGES of just these absolutely USELESS rants because that nubby little shit had so much passion for it. Fuck. I loved Karkat. A bloodswapped, cobalt-blooded Karkat who was also post-game for a pre-established timeline where trolls and humans co-existed on the same planet(s). He was a Thief of Blood and a massive asshole; at his worst, he was manipulative, isolative, vengeful, restless… But also, he was a really big dork??? He LOOOOOVED spy movies and probably popped boners regularly for Black Widow and James Bond or the Kingsmen. Fucking nerd. He fancied himself a spy; his best friend was a badass hacker, and they’d (F)LARP together as a stereotypical “you hack, I’ll infiltrate” team. Before Earth, he never cared about Christmas, but one year his richass neighbourhood started putting up flashy decorations and he got jealous, so he stole a shitton of them to make his own house look the best. He’s so… So stupid. I love him so much. And of course, jumping off the Homestuck bandwagon; I have Lv/Hadz! My dorky, sadsack pun machine. A (sort of, mostly) secret post-genocide Sans; the Bad Run™ had been reset after completion, but something went wrong, so he remembers it. Still, he’s been running for like, two years now! So he’s had a lot of time to go and bury all that as deeply as monsterly possible lmaooo. He’s distrusting, paranoid, and isolative himself; but he’s probably the most all-around good guy on this list. He just wants to get on with his life and never have to fight anyone ever again, lmfao. I… I also have a few OCs, but you’ll have to pry those out of my cold, dead hands. … Carefully. With lots of reassurance. (I’m very shy…)

What inspired you to take on your current muse (that you are posting this on): I like… Undertale. And I like Underfell enough that once the idea was presented to me, my mind kinda ran away with it, haha. It started with Hopper, my weird UF Sans! But it feels like every time I approach the AU I have slightly different ideas for it, pfft. I guess with Sixes, I wanted to step away from the skeletons for awhile! I was really excited about messing with Mettaton for it, because I… Really liked listening to the radio for awhile, haha. I thought it’d be kind of cool if instead of being really excited to be seen flaunting himself across a television set, he wasn’t so happy with how he turned out physically, and made his influence a little less directly visible. It fit in well with the seemingly common theme of conflict in Underfell, and things just really exploded from there! It’s hard to summarize in just a few short words. That said, Sixes probably wouldn’t have a blog at all if it wasn’t for tumblr user wibler’s- Sixes’ Sans!- mun coaxing me into giving it a shot! She has a lot of faith in my creative abilities. I dunno what I’d do without her support through the past few years, heheh. She’s neat.

What are your favourite aspects of your current muse: LOUD ANGRY ROBOT LMFAO Shit though, I dunno! I like writing a character who goes through the bipolar disorder motions, the manics and the depressives. I love watching him go hot and cold on characters as he flipflops through his impulses and subsequent regrets. I love that in his timeline, everyone knows him while he himself actually… Hardly knows anyone at all. He’s made himself untrustworthy, and in turn doesn’t trust anyone, either, so he hardly ever opens up beyond… You know. Angry screaming, or shameless flirting and flattery, ignoring personal space bubbles… I love that his Sans being absent kind of smacked him on the nose, because that was someone he was actually making a connection with, but tried to play it off like Sans was just another moment in his life so he kind of treated him like a dick lmao. Deadass knew the poor little dude had anxiety issues and scared him on purpose, made joking death threats, joked about flirting with his shittyass brother… Sixes was such a prick. Fuck. And he realizes that! And after ditching his family just to have a cataclysmic fallout with his other BFF, Alphys, Sans disappearing… It’s something he blames himself for. It kind of sobered him up a little to the way his actions affect people. AND DESPITE EVERYTHING, HE STILL USES HIS CAMERAS (THAT HE STOLE FROM ALPHYS IN A PETTY FIT) SCATTERED ACROSS THE UNDERGROUND AND HIS SHITTY TRAP ROOMS IN HOTLAND TO PUBLICALLY HUMILIATE RANDOM CITIZENS IN A WIPEOUT-ESQUE PODCAST ON THE UNDERNET. At least that assholitude earns him money, though! Fuck. I also reaaallly love how different AUs bring out different aspects of his character, but that’s a rant for another time or place! Hoo. I dunno, man. I could go on about Sixes for like, ever. He’s a really fun muse.

What’s your biggest inspiration when it comes to writing: I’m… I’m not even gonna lie, a lot of it is the positive feedback lmao. I don’t, uh. Do much these days, creatively or recreationally speaking, and I don’t really have a lot of friends IRL… Er, any, actually, if you’re only counting closehand. All my friends live hundreds of miles away, and it sucks. But this is… Simultaneously social and creative. I get to talk to people, and make friends, and toss creativity back and forth with people, and it’s really fulfilling. I love to be a part of other people’s creative processes! I love seeing what other people do with THEIR characters, and when we all??? Interact??? Mother of God, it’s such a treat! Everyone’s so creative and impressive and inspiring… And hearing/seeing us all go back and forth about what we admire in each other… I’m pretty happy with just being a part of writing, and telling other people that I love what they do! But every now and then it comes back around to me in little ways, and it feels really special. It’s hard to imagine anyone liking my stuff past a “they’re pretty cool I guess, yeah” sentiment, despite my glittering impression of a lot of the writers in the community; so when someone DOES say they like my stuff, even just by saying they like a drawing, or like the way I described something, I go OFF THE WALL LMAO. Straight up dissolve and slip through the floorboards a la Gaster style with how lovely it feels. Shucks… And, you know. Watching characters develop in general- whether they be mine or not- is really fulfilling and inspiring. A good cycle.

Favourite types of threads: Anything that feels meaningful! I love it when two characters make any kind of connection, despite the context. That said, typically “angst” and “fluff” style threads are a big favorite, but there has to be, like… you know. Meaning to it. It feels really… I dunno, cardboardy to just throw a muse into a woodchipper for no particular reason just to have them drag themselves to another muse begging for help or to have a chance to explain some kind of deep, edgy feeling or story. Baseless fluff has a lot more wiggle room lmao, but that can get really monotonous really quick if something more significant fails to spark somewhere along the line. Just so long as something’s getting achieved somehow, I guess! If it feels like nothing’s changed between the two at the end of the thread, it feels really unfulfilling and hollow.

Biggest struggle in regards to your current muse: URRRGH. IMPLEMENTING THE RADIO SHOW/PODCAST THING… On one hand, Sixes has kind of collected the idea that the multiverse is a very indifferent place towards the goings-on within his timeline! And, he supposes, that that suits him fine. Hurts his pride a little, but it’s something he’s just going to curl up and lick his wounds for, pfft. But still! I wish I knew how to make it a little more obvious and prominent- The same could go for his growing industry, too! I guess I’ve just been jobless too long to really have a feel for it like I should, oof… Additionally, drawing him is reALLY HARD… He’s in his classic box form most of the time because he’s really insecure about his EX form, and yet I draw his EX form more than anything because the box is frustrating to draw??? And despite it all, I’m still not sure I’m terribly happy with how his EX form looks!!! He’s supposed to be a little closer to a NEO design than initially planned, as Alphys fully intended him to be a KILLING MACHINE from the start without telling him! But he caught on early on, and they kind of bullied each other into compromising a bunch of things until he was just this “hideous” mess that neither of them were terribly happy with… So, you know. The indecision carried over to me too, evidently! Ugh.

Tagged by: nah! Just stole it was all. (from slobbyseconds/coolskeletonsdontcry forever ago, but just got around to now. kfjf)

Tagging: Anyone who wants to! @ me back if you do it, though; I love reading these things!

#q #ooc #repost dont reblog #long post // #ooc about #these r fun. i love talking #munday

[elyonbeats]

Just Like a Dream

Based on a true story* It’s a story that explains what’s been happening in my life recently and the special burden which I am voluntarily carrying. 

           The hot summer breeze was lingering in my hands. My mind was bombarded with symphony of bird's chirpings and California's unforgiving heat in May. I was sitting by the cafeteria, tuning my guitar, preparing for my upcoming performance, which was going to happen in about an hour. My friend, Choong Man, who goes by "DK," was sitting next to me, going over his rap verses for the upcoming said performance. "Are you ready, bro?" I asked DK as I was finishing up tuning the last string of my guitar. "Yeah bro, it's going to be so sick!" DK replied with his never ceasing, consistent, high energy. DK is a rapper and I am a singer. We are two Christian musicians who gets invited by church retreats / camps to do shows and guest speak during summer breaks. This time, we were invited to an "Awake Conference," which was a huge revival camp for Mongolian Christians from all over America. It was one of the biggest show we had the opportunity to perform in. Naturally, I was nervous, but DK always had this "cool" look on his face, not showing a single ounce of nervousness –– perhaps I thought this because he always wore a pair of dark shades, hiding his eyes from the outsiders.

           It was 30 minutes before the show. DK finished up his tea and I wore my guitar strap around my neck. We entered the big conference room where everyone was waiting for us. We got up on the stage, embracing the overwhelming volume of the crowd cheering. DK and I stood under the stage light, positioned ourselves in front of our microphones, and started our performance. The show was incredible, people were dancing, jumping, and singing along to the choruses. After the show, we all went to the cafeteria to get some snacks and talk to people. I was fairly tired from all the adrenaline crumbling down at the speed of light. I was playing my guitar among the crowd of people, when suddenly, a mysterious girl approached me with a sweet gentle voice. "Hello, Jung" she spoke with a bright smile. "You were really awesome and I was wondering if you were interested in collaborating with me sometime." She possessed such captivating radiance, the type that provided stronger kick than quadruple espresso shots, stronger kick than all the whiskeys in the world combined into a single shot glass –– neat –– making one question the credibility of the drink's title: water of life. I never had a girl approach me asking if I wanted to collaborate on a song with her before.            "Collaboration? How do you mean?" I asked with utmost interest.            "I play the piano, maybe you can sing and I can play the piano?"            "That sounds awesome! It'd be my pleasure, my lady." I answered with an English accent, presenting my silly side and to help rid the tension in our conversation. "The pleasure's mine, my good sir" she replied with an innocent laugh. This was the beginning of our friendship.  

           Despite how well we got along at the conference, there was a barrier when it came to us becoming close friends. Her and her family lived in Denver, Colorado –– whereas I lived in Sacramento, California. The more I talked to her, the more I began to develop feelings for her. I figured, this was just a "phase" I was going through and it's nothing I should analyze or invest too much thoughts in. The more affections my heart developed, the more I rebuked it, telling it that it cannot work and I am just setting myself up for a heartbreak. She was 19 years old, an age of "confusion" as I always called it. I believed 18 and 19 were these "transitional period" where we would slowly surrender our identities as 'teenagers' and slowly (and often times, awkwardly) transition into a young adulthood. One night, I found it extremely difficult to keep my affections for her suppressed. Confessing your affections to someone you like is not an easy thing to do –– especially if that person means so much to you. The fear of causing detriment to our friendship, fear of creating awkwardness between us, the fear of not being able to "undo" any actions, were terrifying me and has been inspiring me to suppress my feelings for awhile. However, no matter how great my desires of killing these feelings for her were, eventually, I got to a point where I could no longer keep it inside. I called her on her phone and we proceeded to have our usual "evening call" sessions. We talked for about an hour when I told her "hey, I have something I need to tell you..." Not knowing anything, she asked me to reveal what was on my mind. I couldn't think clearly anymore. Even though she wasn't the first person who I've ever developed feelings for, and even though this wasn't the first time I've ever confessed my romantic feelings to someone, my heart was racing and my hand was struggling to hold my phone still.            "I really like you... I've been suppressing these feelings for you for awhile now, but it's killing me inside and I can't take it anymore."            "..."                                         ...What have I done?                        "I am sorry to bring this up randomly, but you mean so much to me and I want to get to know you better..."            "..." Still no response.            "If you think this is not right, then I'll understand. I'll be fine, but please, I pray that my confession will not cause any awkwardness between us."            "I like you too, Jung. I've been feeling the same way about you" she spoke after a short brief silence. This was the beginning of one of the happiest time of my life, and at the same time, the beginning of one of the toughest time of my life –– of course, I was unaware of this at the time.

           How can you explain to someone what "liking someone" is like? When someone asks you "how do I know if I like you?" how can you answer that question? It's been about 4 months since we've revealed to each other about our feelings. We started talking more freely, more frequently, more personally, and more intimately. I was even able to save up to go visit her in Colorado in November. We both spent an incredible time together while I was there. Holding hands, sharing food, cracking jokes, teasing one another, singing along obnoxiously to whatever songs that was playing on the radio –– I thought everything was going well. On my last night there, I took her to "Red Rocks Amphitheater" which was about 40 minutes drive from Denver. It was a huge amphitheater, built on top of a hill, overlooking the cities of Colorado. We sat on one of the steps and opened up our hearts and minds; we breathed in hope and spoke out sincerity. Time was acting like an escaped convict, running away from me so desperately, without even giving me a chance to try and catch it. The chandelier of stars were silently blessing us with its light, providing us with infinite topics and memories to talk about. We were just two people falling in love with one another. We gazed upon the millions of scattered city lights, and after a brief silence, I opened my mouth to speak.            "Hmm... Those city lights remind me of this one story."            "What story?" She asked with a curious tone.            "Legend says the stars in the night sky were created when the goddess of beauty, Aphrodite, accidently spilled her bag of jewels on her way to mount Olympus."            "Her jewels?" She asked, but wasn't really a question, but more of a little "check point" for me to see that she was listening.            "Yeah... But I feel like the city lights look more like the bag of jewels than the stars... See? The red lights are the rubies, blue ones are the sapphires, the green ones are emeralds and gold lights are the gold." I'll be honest, I sounded like a sophisticated, poetic, badass when I said those words.            "Hmm... Aphrodite's jewels... I like that!" She exclaimed with a bright smile. We continued to talk the night away and decided to leave when the time has successfully escaped from our hands. While I was driving to drop her off at home, I asked her if she would be my special "companion." For some reason, the word "companion" sounded less corny than "boyfriend" or "girlfriend." The drop of that question summoned ripples of thoughts in her mind, which led to creating an awkward silence in the car ride. After about 3 minutes of silence (which felt like an eternity), she answered "I would really like to, but can you give me some time to think about it?" I replied "of course" and we decided to put that topic behind us.

           Soon, the month of December came and created silence in our lives. She was uncertain about her feelings toward me, mainly because she didn't know what it was like to be in a relationship or to develop feelings for someone. We decided that we should take some time away from one another, for it could help her (and myself) think more clearly and not make any decisions impulsively, regarding us becoming a couple. We decided to take this "month of silence" to think, pray, and reflect on our hearts for each other. I suggested that we should keep a journal, writing down our thoughts and what we wish to tell each other, daily, and at the end of the month we can exchange our journals and see what our month was like. She agreed to this idea and we started our "month of silence." Cutting off communication wasn't too difficult, because we both had a lot of things that kept us occupied –– such as preparing for the finals, working, church ministries, family time, etc.

           January came and we broke the silence when we talked on the phone. I was so overjoyed when I heard her voice after a month of not talking. We took some time to catch up and exchanged our addresses so we could mail out our journals to each other. I thought everything was going great –– until about an hour into the conversation, she broke my smile when she said "I am so sorry, Jung... but I don't think I am ready for a relationship." I felt like the world was turning upside down and I was quickly losing my balance to stay standing. My mind was trying its best to process the words she was telling me. She continued, "I invested a lot of thoughts into this, I thought about it from so many different angles, but in the end, I am just not mature enough for a relationship... I don't think I even understand the concept of liking or loving someone. How can I commit to a relationship when I can't even understand my own heart for you?" Her painfully gripping words –– accompanied by her soft-melodic voice, were choking my throat, preventing me from speaking any single word. "I am so sorry, I hope my journal will explain everything to you, clearly. I tried, I really did, but I think this is for the best. I will forever cherish the memories we've made together..." I suppose she was choking up as much as I was. Those were her final words and our phone call abruptly ended.

           It was tough, bearing this excruciating pain, bringing myself into chronic depression and state of denial. My heart was heavy and my soul was dragging, but finally, I was alone –– there was nothing I could do but let her go. If she said she's not ready, can I be arrogant enough to try and do the time's work? There was nothing I could do, for she had made up her mind and was already walking away from me. From us.

           Her journal arrived in my mailbox later that week and I was having a hard time getting past first few pages. It was difficult, mainly because the first few pages started out very hopeful, but I already knew how this book was going to end. The more pages I turned, the more I began to feel broken, and finally I got to her entry for "Day 28." The entry read

           I don't think I will be able to be in a relationship with you, Jung. I sound cruel, I sound harsh; I sound like some playgirl who mercilessly end things like this. Yes, while I know me saying stuff like this won't make you feel any better, but I think this is the best for us. At one point, I got so emotional I thought maybe I should just say "yes." But no matter how much I think about it, I'm not ready for a relationship. I don't think I would be ready anytime soon. So instead of waiting for me or pursuing me, I think it's best if you moved on and meet a much better, more cooler, more spiritual, more beautiful girl. I don't think I'm right for you, Jung. I thank you so much for everything you've done for me and I absolutely know I don't deserve any of it. Thank you for making my life exciting but I think this is where we should end. It's hard for me to be blunt like this but I'm trying to be as honest as I can be and I hope you don't get too heartbroken when you read this. Don't cry too. Don't cry for someone like me. I still wish we can talk and keep in touch but it will hurt if we talk as if nothing had happened. Because we know what happened. I don't want you to get hurt by me or continue to suffer, so it's best for you to not wait for me. Everything you've done means so much to me. I was never 'fake' or took them lightly. Every minute was cherishing. I feel so guilty for putting you into this mess. I'm so so sorry, Jung.

           Ladies and gentlemen, I cried that day. This was more than just a 'break up,' I lost someone who I considered so dear and close to me. I lost a piece of my heart. I lost the ability to be carefree and joyful. I lost my bag of jewels. They say, "Time heals all pain" and I am in the process of being healed. It's funny, past couple of months have been a crazy experience for me. I've reached one of the highest point in my life and also reached one of the lowest. Looking back, it all started with a couple of songs I sang at the conference. Now, I sing a different song –– a song of healing, a song of hope, a song of longing. You see, I've decided to wait for her. Yes, I am aware this may sound foolish, especially given that none of us know what to expect in the future with certainty. Friends, families, and other various people within my circle have given me the cliché "there are plenty of fishes in the sea" speech; but I find it a bit ludicrous for them to say that without knowing anything about this special girl of mine –– No? Well, I've decided, even if this decision I've made is wrong, even if her and I don't work out in the end, as long as there's 1% chance of possibility, I've decided that she's worth it. She doesn't know that I've decided to wait for her, and frankly, we haven't been talking for over a month now. We both need some time to heal and settle before we can even think about starting a new relationship, or better yet, amend this broken relationship.

#Elyonbeats #Story #Nonfiction #Heart Broken #Love

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The Sound of Saying Goodbye

Ms. Taylor

ENG2D1

Friday, January 18, 2019

The Sound of Saying Goodbye

When I was young, I was free, I was friendly, I was open, outgoing, and often made friends. I hod no limitations, no walls, no barriers, no roadblocks. However, as I grew older I became more introverted as I crept deeper into the dark depths of the closet of my conscience. I slipped into the soft silence of my inner soul behind the veil of water. Luckily for me, I had chains that I forged through relationships I formed when I was younger that tied me back to the outer realms of reality. In grade one I found a friend that was to stick by my side forever to grow old together and as the years went we developed  such a strong unbreakable relationship that no matter what we would always try to be there for each other when we needed each other most. It had only been four years after we had met when my father moved closer to my elementary school. This showed me that our relationship was meant to be strengthened as we found out that we shared the same wooden fence after we moved. What this did for us was, allow us to communicate much easier. Ever since then he and I made a lot of plans to hang out and we did.

Together we made it through the heavy hard-working years of elementary school all the way to grade 8. We felt so good to be the top dogs of the school. There were a million things that had separated us but the main roadblock was the fact that we were in different classes but, we were still able to walk home and see each other at recess. Turns out that my numbers were to change in the near future to a million and one roadblocks, however, this was the hardest one to overcome for me, and now looking back, it must’ve been the hardest for him too. This became our number one roadblock and it was called cancer. Yes, my best friend had cancer at the age of 13. This was the start of the dramatic downfall of my social life. Once I had received the news I tried to isolate the real me behind the bars that the fake smiles that imprisoned me. The truth is my real self is hidden behind my happy twin of a personality. The real me was given hope of breaking free as my mom had done some research and told me that “There is a 98% chance of survival with this type of cancer.” Hearing that relieved me but a part of me only looked at that 2%.

Later that year he began to go to school during his recovery and of course me being so close with him I had sneakily gone to his class during the times that we were not supposed to be out of the class like lunch, knowing this was wrong I did not care about the repercussions as long as I spent time with my best friend when he needed me. My rebellious acts were seen by the teachers for what they truly were and they allowed  me out of some of my classes to be able to spend more time with him. I was also granted permission to go to his class during lunch. The school year was coming to an end and everyone went on the grad trip, everyone but my best friend the first day without him was hard until I found out that he would be visiting the next day. When I saw him I was so happy and I asked for “An update on his recovery.”

He had told me that he would,“Be cancer free by October”.

That second day had become my highlight of the trip. Although he attended the grad trip he was unable to make it to the actual graduation but his pictures were still displayed on the white canvas for the projection which lightened my mood slightly. My summer was pretty busy but I still got to hang with him within the warm rays of light from the high sweet summer sun. The next time I saw him was in grade 9, I would be by his side as much as I could. He began growing neat fur-like hair all over his head after the chemotherapy. He looked so happy. the rest of the year was fun with him and I could not wait to go into grade 10 with him.

The first few weeks of our grade 10 year I noticed that he was not attending school so, I reached out to his sister in fear.

She told me that “He went to Pakistan for vacation.”

He came back to school mid-September and I was so glad to see him as he had more than just peach fuzz on his face he looked like and sounded like a healthy grown man. About a month later he was gone from school again and I began to worry so in November I went by his house to check up. I was told by his brother.

He informed me ;“He has internal bleeding in his lungs.”

I felt very nervous after this because I did not know the severity of this. As the break came up my mom came to me to give me so important news. She had told me that she got a message from his sister.

She said,“He has relapsed and cancer came back in his lungs.”

“How long will it take for him to recover this time?”  I asked my mom .

She replied with “The doctors said that he has two weeks left to live.” As she began to apologize for my friend’s situation I broke down into a tsunami of tears

“It isn’t fair,“ I said to my mom behind the walls of salty water drops individually flowing down my face slowly “he didn’t deserve this, he never did anything wrong.”.

She replied by saying , “No it’s not fair, no one should have to go through this.”

After this moment I was dedicated to go see my friend I would drop everything for one more chance of seeing him. I was able to meet up with him on December 28,  2018. When I came from the cold outdoors into his heat-filled house I saw an immediate increase of family members from the last time I was there in the summer. I heard his baby niece screaming and running around in joy not knowing the situation that her uncle was in. As I was downstairs waiting for him to get ready for me to see him I empathized his dad's pain as he was struggling to hold back his but could not, this caused me to break. A few minutes passed and I was able to bring everything together and I was called upstairs. As I went up the flight of stairs I saw three white mechanical boxes with the numbers 20 on them and a clear cord running from them into his room under the door. They were roaring as they seemed to be sucking up air. I open the door to his room and as I walked in a huge wave of heat hit me. While turning my head to see my friend I saw fans pointed directly at him. Once I laid eyes on him I realized that I had begun looking through him reminiscing as I was pushed back by an emotional barrier formed for my tears. I eventually held myself together when he began to talk to me and I could hear the pain in his voice we talked for hours and he said something that really hit me hard.

He turned to me and said “you’ve been my best friend for a long time.”

That one line sent me back in time to all our good moments. Due to his illness I had to leave soon after. As I was saying goodbye he shook my hand I held back a majority of my strength in fear of hurting him but I noticed that he was fairly cognizant of the moment realizing this would be the last time he would see me and  he put every last drop of strength into it so I squeezed back on his baby soft hands with emotion I could feel that we both meant it.

School started back up and I knew I was different. I was different because I knew my friend would be gone soon. People asked if I was ok and I replied with yes to avoid interaction. This was the lowest point of my social life. The weekend came up faster than expected and it was already Friday. My alarm for school woke me up at six o’clock.

When unexpedly my dad came into my room and said “You are not going to school today.”

I was assuming that it was a snow day but still asked why. That is when he had told me that my best friend “Passed away at 11:30 pm last night” and his family was having the funeral today. The whole day It felt like something was missing like I had a gap within my torso from just underneath where my collar bones met to the center of my ribcage.

Prior to his passing I asked my brother to draw a picture that I had taken with him and at the top above our heads my brother labeled us “3 KINGS” and as my dad and I step into the car a song on the radio was a song playing that is called “3 Kings” showed up and right there and then it clicked for me and my dad that my best friend Mikael was showing us a sign saying that he is in a better place.

This moment in my life made me think about everything that I didn't get to do with him and taught me a very valuable lesson. This lesson taught showed me precious price of time is and that you should spend it wisely with the right people. Thank you, Mikael. I love you. Rest in peace.

The beginning of my memoir starts with Imagery to display how my social skills progressed over the years of my life. I also use imagery to describe the distance I was from him. I then used an alliteration at the beginning of the second paragraph to show how long our elementary education felt like to us. I then used a hyperbole to  emphasize the amount of obstacles that held us back from further strengthening our relationship.

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