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hornyforpoetry · 10 months

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Classic 20th Century Japanese Writers I Recommend

Over the past three years, little by little, I have begun to explore the beauty of Japanese literature. I had some reluctance at first due to the fact that the first Japanese I read was Haruki Murakami (no offense to his fans, but his writing style doesn't appeal to me). Even if you try not to be prejudiced, sometimes the brain works against you. I've taken a much further step back since then and decided to get my hands on some classics. I always liked the classics better. An apparently wise decision on my part, as I found some exceptional literary gems. I'm still at the beginning of exploration and it's a slow process (quality translations are few and far between in my country; luckily more and more classical Japanese authors are coming in lately, which brings me nothing but joy), but this is a short list of 20th century Japanese literature that I recommend.

1. Ryūnosuke Akutagawa (1892 - 1927) // Hell Screen (1918) // Spinning Gears (1927)

One of the greatest Japanese authors in history, Akutagawa is known as the "father of Japanese short stories". In my opinion, he fully deserves his title. His short stories are something unique in world literature, developing a wide variety of themes. He explores in his writings both old and new Japan, but maintaining a precious, enchanted air. Its style is easy to understand, but retains a certain poetry. Akutagawa instills in his characters an air of mystery and, in a certain way, grotesque, as if he could sense the dark side of man.

"Hell Screen" is inspired by a 13th-century volume of stories about the painter Yoshihide, commissioned to paint a screen depicting the Buddhist Hell scene. The theme of the artist's obsession with creation is a recurring theme in world literature, and Akutagawa brings it back in a new light. ”Spinning Gears” on the other hand takes place in the modern era and has a certain autobiographical feel to it. The protagonist narrates a series of events that he goes through, but these are often interrupted by his own thoughts and even hallucinations. The line between reality and fiction is finely demarcated, and the fall from one side to the other is sometimes imperceptible.

2. Yasunari Kawabata (1899 – 1972) // Thousand Cranes (1952) // Beauty and Sadness (1964)

The first Japanese to win the Nobel Prize in Literature, Kawabata is an important writer both nationally and internationally. Many of his writings have spread throughout the world. His protagonists are usually respected men, but tormented by a hidden, obsessive side that they try to curb. His style is delicate but concise, being generally devoid of unnecessary literary flourishes. Kawabata's construction is subtle and carefully contoured, knowing when to alternate shots.

"Thousand Cranes" is a short novel about a young unmarried man who has an affair with a woman older than him. Despite the age difference, the young man begins to develop an obsession with the woman, an erotic and even scary fascination in places. It is a story about passion that transforms reason, that brings horrible chimeras out of the human soul. "Beauty and Sadness" revolves around a former affair between a respected writer and a painter. The nostalgic notes of the past merge with the monotony of the present. While the central female figure is resigned and accepts her fate with simple coldness, the male figure seems to degrade at the first push and to live in a slight reverie, throwing himself into the nets of a past that only he idealizes.

3. Osamu Dazai (1909 – 1948) // The Setting Sun (1947) // No Longer Human (1948)

A tragic genius par excellence, Osamu Dazai was obsessed his whole life with the idea of non-being. He had a latent fear of the idea of living among humans. His style is the most similar to that of Western writers among the Japanese authors I have come across so far. Like French decadents, he led a miserable life marked by alcohol, sex and suicidal tendencies. What makes him unique in literature is the way he manages to capitalize on the anguish, anxiety, fear of the human being that he suffers from and expose it in a poetic way in his writings.

"The Setting Sun" centers on a woman in her early 30s who lives with her opium-addicted brother and her widowed and ailing mother. The snake appears as an obsessive idea, a protector and a harbinger of death at the same time. The woman seems to have a corrupted soul since childhood, a tendency towards alienation, towards misfortune, towards darkness. The fear of loneliness is combined here with the fear of closeness. "No Longer Human" is a prose memoir with many autobiographical elements. The protagonist is presented through all three stages of his life, from childhood to adolescence to adulthood. The young cartoonist is terrified of the darkness within him, which turns him into an inhuman being. Despite his desperate attempts, he finds it impossible to be honest and connect with people. His life is haunted by the tragedy of a lonely soul, scared of his own self, terrified that the world will find out about the monster that lies within him.

4. Yukio Mishima (1925 – 1970) // Confessions of a Mask (1949) // After the Banquet (1960)

Every country has that historical character that seems to be taken out of legends, but which was as true as it can be. Yukio Mishima is that character of Japan who is not talked about enough outside the borders. He had a tumultuous life, involved in art and politics alike. He wrote literature, essays, plays. His vocabulary is rich, lyrical, powerful. The images he conjures are terrifying, but clothed in poetry. He was not afraid to express the ideas he believed in, his political views, his observations on society, but he never forgot to express his art in a unique and sublime way. His voice is a universal voice, the meditations are of the whole world, and the freshness of the spirit is eternal. Mishima had a hidden talent for entering the darkness of the human soul and bringing out from there everything that could be both terrible and beautiful.

"Confessions of a Mask" is one of his most famous works. The young protagonist recalls his childhood and adolescence, exploring his homoerotic inclinations and the passion he develops for characters in agony. The images suggested in this prose are jarring, dramatic and aesthetic. Everything from the construction to the wording to the image is beautiful. "After the Banquet" has as its central character a woman in early old age. This is a charismatic character, slightly rude, but charming. Mishima balances the woman's free spirit with her fear of dying and disappearing without anyone to honor her memory, while a political battle rages in the background.

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ahgasescenarios · 4 years

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Corrupting the Innocent Pt. 3- Dong Sicheng

Word count: 1.6k

Genre: fluff with hints of angst/suggestive

Plot summary: In which (Y/N) decides to “help” innocent exchange student Sicheng win over his crush. Except she has ulterior motives and Sicheng is too clueless to notice.

A week had passed and here you were, getting comfortable in this environment you had instilled for your lessons, with a different version of Sicheng seated by your side. Apparently, treating the situation as though it was a university course had been the right move- the exchange student wowed you with his completion of the assignment. He even vouched for extra credit, surprising you with a new fashion sense.

Your eyes skimmed over his notes, a full list of attributes on display before your eyes. Hair, eyes, lips, ears and the list went on. You nodded approvingly before handing him back the textbook.

“I’m impressed, bravo.” You paused, gauging his reaction. “How did that exercise feel?”

“Good, honestly. I hadn’t taken the time to think about it before.” He seemed pensive, a different aura about him. Could a week of changing his mindset have done this much?

You reoriented the conversation to the reason you had started this coaching in the first place.

“Now, I want you to tell me something. Have you talked to Rosé before?” He lowered his head, embarrassed.

“Not exactly.”

“Lovey, that’s going to be your assignment for the week.”

“But I’m not ready.” His eyes had taken on two sizes from pure astonishment and dare you say it, fear.

“Sure, you are.” Seeing as your words didn’t have the reassuring effect you had expected them to, you switched gears.

“Here, I’ll help you. Just pretend I’m Rosé.” You wriggled in your seat, getting comfortable for the role.

“This isn’t going to work.” His lip was caught between his teeth now. What you’d give to bite that lip.

“Yes, it is, try it.”

He finally gave in, a familiar love-shaped glimmer traveling across his eyes when he angled them back towards you.

“Hi, Sicheng.” You coaxed him into a “natural” flow of conversation.

“Hi, Rosé. What’s- um, how are you?” He scratched the back of his neck. Adorable.

“I’m great! You?”

“Um, good. Thanks.” Silence thickened the air in the room for a second, both of you standing awfully still. Sicheng was entranced by this meager roleplaying and he reached over to you, caressing your cheek lovingly. The way he was looking at you almost made you rethink your plan. You pulled back admittedly not soon enough. Why was your heart beating so fast?

“See, you’re ready.” You smiled at him encouragingly. His mind felt elsewhere, though.

“Yeah, um I should get going. I have an exam Monday so.” His vibe was off, but you dismissed him, brushing the awkwardness aside. You had probably just been nervous because of the sexual tension between you two. The newfound confidence did multiply his already obvious sex appeal (or potential, in his case).

You retired to your bedroom for the rest of the evening, alienated from the rest of the world as you rolled reruns of your favorite tv shows, barely even acknowledging the outside world. An incoming text message jolted your phone awake, only slightly capturing your attention.

Have you gotten him laid yet?

You sighed. I wish, you thought.

No, I have to keep pretending that I’m setting him up with you.

Rosé: How long are you going to keep this up for?

You shrugged; you didn’t have an answer. What Sicheng didn’t know was that you were actually friends with Rosé, and she was in on the whole thing. This scheming was what kept you two close, toying with people so they wouldn’t toy with you. Rosé shared the same view as you when it came to people and relationships which had made it easier for you to form this dynamic duo. Plus, none of her friends were keen on her “habits” so you were all she had when it came to this.

How’s project J coming along? You texted. “Project J” was code for her own plans to get Jaehyun in bed, the hot but oh-so-catholic eye candy.

Ugh, don’t get me started. He’s so much of a prude- even at the party, he would barely touch me. I’m sick of the “no sex before marriage” bullshit, I just want to fuck him already.

You could relate to that. If anyone else was reading these texts, they’d probably think you were both horrible people. That didn’t bother you, everyone was a little horrible anyway- you were just more public about it. You enjoyed these games of yours, it spiced up your otherwise rather dull life and kept you feeling alive. There was nothing like manipulating other people’s lives to make you feel in control of your own.

“Sicheng, what are you-“ You had jolted awake at the sound of someone knocking on your door, just now identifying the culprit.

“I did it, I talked to her.” He beamed with excitement; his eyes illuminated with joy. If it wasn’t so damn early, you would’ve faked happiness.

“What did you say?” You rubbed your eyes, trying to rub the fatigue out of them.

“We just talked like we rehearsed and guess what, I’m seeing her tomorrow!” His brows furrowed together. “Do you think she thinks it’s a date?”

“I don’t know Sicheng, it’s too early for ME to think.” You sighed, the word think slowly decomposing to a mess of letters you couldn’t fathom.

“Right, sorry. I should’ve called first.”

“It’s fine.” You squinted your eyes at him, he wasn’t budging from his spot. “Did you need anything else?”

“Um, can I come in actually?” He was biting his lip again, by now you had figure out the habit was the manifestation of his nerves. You stepped aside and opened the door wide.

He was twiddling his thumbs, pacing around your living room. What on Earth has gotten into him?

“Remember at the party when we were in the closet together?” You nodded, crossing your arms in front of your chest. Where was this going? you asked yourself. Your question was soon addressed as a prominent blush overcame his delicate features.

“Did you mean it when you said you would teach me how to kiss?”

You licked your lips, knitting your brows together. This had taken an interesting turn.

“Of course.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Sicheng, have you kissed a girl before?”

His teeth reflexively caught his lip as he timidly shook his head no. A virgin, yours to corrupt. Things just kept getting better and better.

“No need to be embarrassed, I’ll show you.” You offered him your most reassuring smile and he seemed to relax a tad. He sat down on your couch, gaze averting yours. His palms ran down his thighs, his nerves transpiring over every inch of his being. He looked everywhere but at you.

“Honey, this isn’t going to work if you can’t even look at me.”

To this he turned his head back around, eyes boring into yours. Emotions were wrestling each other behind those coffee brown eyes, you could tell.

“Are you sure you want to do this now?” Making them feel like it was their choice was key.

“Yes.” All hesitation from before had evaporated from his voice, perhaps those scenes before his eyes had given him a pep talk.

You crossed your legs under you, now facing the exchange student. You guided his hand to lay on your waist and he gulped. You rested your hand on his cheek and brought his face closer to yours.

“Just follow my lead, okay?” He nodded and you pressed your lips on his. You gave him a few seconds to get used to your lips on his before you started moving your lips against his. It took all your willpower not to devour him right this instant, it was just too good. He shifted towards you, asserting his hold on your waist. Your lips moved in a steady rhythm against each other’s and Sicheng slowly started to get the hang of it.

You broke away to catch your breath, Sicheng’s eyes following you avidly. You dove back in, deciding to spice things up a bit by sliding your tongue in his mouth. A single yelp resonated into your mouth before he relaxed into the kiss, tentatively adding his tongue as well. He pulled back, not realizing that the lip he had caught between his teeth was yours until you moaned out loud. You quickly covered your mouth with your hand.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” You breathed, truthfully the sound had escaped your mouth unbeknownst to you. You shouldn’t be so careless. The expression scattered on his face was one you had never seen him wear before.

“I’m gonna go.” The air was thick with tension, and not of the sexual kind. You didn’t even protest, cursing yourself for that slip-up. You hoped he wouldn’t make a habit of leaving anytime things got remotely awkward.

You let your thoughts wander as you hopped in the shower. You were enjoying him way too much; it was bordering obsession. It was the first time you had wanted someone this badly before and you weren’t sure how to feel about it.

The next day, your phone buzzed on the counter, the screen illuminating the following words from Rosé:

Next time, could you not involve me in your hook-up projects? Thanks

Right, their “date” was today. If only Sicheng knew…

Rosé was radio silent for the next couple of hours and you busied yourself with household chores, homework and things of the like. Only around dinnertime did you finally hear back from the blonde.

He barely looked at me, let alone talked to me. He seemed completely uninterested in me, weird since he asked ME out. Good work though, you’ll get him laid in no time!

Had your plan already worked? Was he already growing disinterested in Rosé? You found yourself to be the one biting your lip this time. If you had indeed succeeded, why did your heart feel like it had dropped into your stomach?

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Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

a/n: hi loves! I just finished this series and I wanted your opinion on smth- did you want me to post the rest sooner than every week? I hope everyone is staying safe and doing well xx

#kpop #kpop fanfiction #fanfiction #kpop smut #nct smut #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct winwin #wayv winwin #wayv #wayv smut #wayv scenarios #wayv fluff #dong sicheng #winwin scenarios #sicheng scenarios #corrupting the innocent

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gibelwho · 3 years

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Top 5: Nostalgia Movies

This Top 5 is taking a trip down childhood memory lane to choose the best Nostalgia Movies - films that I loved as a kid and continue to love to this day. The film must have been watched multiple times during my youth and continue to be associated with a memory or tradition that was an important marker of growing up. Therefore, any film produced past 2004, when I graduated high school, has not been considered - and, to even make the cut, the film must be associated with more than just constant re-watches in our downstairs rec room (arranged with a HUGE - well, big for the ‘90s - screen with actual surround sound that my dad installed); rather, these films must be an essential part of my childhood progression into adult-hood and laid the groundwork for a future of loving cinema.

Gibelwho Productions Presents Nostalgia Movies:

5. Ferris Bueller’s Day Off

4. X-Men

3. The Little Mermaid

2. Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade

1. Newsies

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (1986): As my high school career began to wrap up and I was looking ahead to college (where I had already committed to attending film school), my mother informed me of a proclamation - I was not allowed to leave her household without watching Ferris Bueller. Perhaps she knew that she needed to instill a little bit of rule-breaking encouragement into her straight A / type A child before I was to head out into the unruly world of college, but nonetheless, this film left a mark with it’s delightful adventures of Ferris, Cameron, and Sloane. Years later, I attended an LA rooftop screening where the audience all danced during the Twist and Shout parade, bringing me straight back to the joy of discovering this film with my mom. In the same tradition, I will be sure to make my kids watch this film before they leave our household for the wide world so they can learn to cause a little innocent rule-breaking. Save Ferris!

X-Men (2000): I had a secret obsession when I was a kid - I LOVED Marvel Comics. I had read all of my dad’s comic book collection from when he was a kid, I started my own collection, and had even started tracking the value of each issue. But I was a girl, and did not share this particular passion with my fellow elementary school friends (ahhh, the fear of being judged by your peers). So when I entered a movie theater as a freshman in high school (with my secret still intact) to see an X-Men film and the place was PACKED, I couldn’t contain my excitement that maybe, just maybe, more people would be into these characters and storylines. Then, when I went into my summer theatre program and my friends used X-Men characters as improv inspiration, I thought...this is going mainstream! I still didn’t confide my true colors until the MCU began and my college friends discovered that I knew a...lot more about Iron Man’s backstory than should be possible and I was officially outed. So, fully embracing my nerdom, I traveled to San Diego to the sacred ground that was Comic Con, truly cementing my love of Marvel. And now the rest of the world has caught up to why these characters are so special. That first inkling of a wider world loving what I loved started when I watched X-Men in theaters - seeing my heroes on the big screen, fighting their super villains, and the packed crowd around me was digging it!

The Little Mermaid (1989): One of my earliest memories of opening presents was from my 6th birthday, sitting in the living room and ripping open the wrapping paper to discover the VHS for The Little Mermaid - a film I had seen at school and LOVED - and now it was mine to watch at any time! Truly a special Disney moment, which is also matched with many other memories of Disney animated films (the momentous opening to Lion King and the cut to black that took my breath away in the theater, playing the Mulan soundtrack on cassette over and over singing Reflection, and identifying with Belle’s obsession with reading). I was very much the target audience for the Disney Renaissance, and I ate up all the music, the (slightly) stronger portrayal of women, and our VHS collection only grew to include all of these modern classics. The Little Mermaid kicked off a golden age for Disney Animation and little Katie grew up on the Alan Menken soundtrack.

Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (1989): Our family had three fancy VHS boxed sets for three different franchises and we watched these flicks on repeat - Star Trek movies (TOS with Kirk and Spock), the Star Wars trilogy, and the Indiana Jones films. Literally any one of the movies from these collections could make this slot, but since both of the Star franchises have already gotten love in these Top 5 lists, I’m going to pick representation from our resident archaeological professor / international adventurer. My favorite of the bunch is the third - from the thrilling opening of young Indy, to the dynamic between father and son, and the epic ending of selecting the correct Grail (“you have chosen...wisely”). Watching any one of these films is just comfort food for my soul, taking me back to the family settling in to watch in our downstairs rec room, setting the foundation for the nerdom that my parents instilled into me at a young age and that has continued to guide my interests and movie-watching to this day.

Newsies (1992): Growing up, my family had Friday movie nights, where we ordered from the Pizza Hut that was right next to a Blockbuster; my brother and I were allowed to each choose a movie to rent for the weekend. I went through a phase where I just rented Newsies on repeat. It was as though this film was made just for me - a musical, set in a historical time period, with cute boys singing and dancing, music by the magical Alan Menken - what is not to love?!? I was so obsessed with this movie that in the pre-Internet age, I wrote down the lyrics by meticulously listening, pausing, writing down, rewinding, and repeating - which was an onerous process when one was working with manual VHS tapes. I eventually got a copy of my own, the DVD when it came out, the CD of the soundtrack, and also the piano sheet music. I knew all the lines to the songs, and could probably to this day quote the majority of the movie. Years later, imagine my delight when Disney produced a Broadway musical of the movie - we took a special trip to New York on my birthday to see the show (which of course, doesn’t match up to my love for the film, the true effect of a nostalgic love for a piece of your childhood). Living in LA affords us the opportunity for magical movie-going experiences, and my husband and I scored tickets to a special showing of Newsies at the Disney El Capitan theater - and then the traveling Broadway company of Newsies the musical that was in town and performing just up the street at the Pantages theater made an appearance and performed for the audience after the movie wrapped. This film has held a special place in my heart and is the epitome of nostalgia love for a movie from childhood.

Honorable Mentions:

The Music Man (1962): The two music genres we listened to growing up were 90s country (Garth, Reba, Trisha, Wynonna!) and also musicals. Our family was very much into theater and starting at the age of twelve, I started acting in musicals at our local performing arts program for youths. Our family also watched many of the classic musicals that were filmed in the 1950s and 60s, such as Hello, Dolly, Oklahoma, and Music Man. This last film stands in as a proxy for all those classics, but was also selected in particular because I performed in a production during a summer in junior high, where I was in the background chorus (and featured in the Wells Fargo song!). The music and lyrics of this story, written by Meredith Wilson, are of such cleverness and variety - from the 4-part harmony barbershop quartet to the love song ballads, the pre-hip hop rhythmic talking song to the genius opening number of the salesmen on the train. The translation to film is serviceable and very much in the style of the musicals brought from stage to screen in the 1960s - nothing too clever and some blocking that sought to recreate a theater stage on the film set, but these series of musical films cemented my love for the genre in an accessible way just as I was starting myself to perform on stage.

Jurassic Park (1993): Oh, the raptor in the kitchen stalking the two kids stills brings me chills thinking about it. Watching that scene as a kid, I (more than once) fled the room because it was so scary! This film had it all - creepy dinosaurs, a smart teenage girl and an even smarter heroine that was a scientist, great music (whose theme I diligently learned how to play on the piano), and plenty of action! My family definitely had this on repeat in the VHS player, but I loved the movie so much that I ended up reading Michael Crichton’s novel to experience the source material - and became more aware of how a film is an adaption of a novel’s storytelling, translating from the page to the screen. I do fall in favor of reading the novel before seeing the movie, but if a film helps you discover an incredible book, it can be like diving into an extension of the world beyond what the screen can fit.

#ferris bueller #x-men #the little mermaid #indiana jones #indiana jones and the last crusade #newsies

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wanna-b-poet31 · 5 years

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An (at this point certainly more than) 4-part Meta on Good Omens Part 3: The Dubious Coping Skills of Aziraphale

Sooooo! Surprise surprise, I have lots and lots of thoughts on the ineffable husbands and their respective trauma/abuse recovery arcs. Sorry if anyone expected different content from me.

Before I get into how the abuse the ineffable husbands endure affects their relationship with each other or how through their relationship together, they are healing, helping both of them recover their issues, I want to examine their current coping skills.

Aziraphale, the loveable bastard

Aziraphale is many things. Loving, kind, naive, powerful, and forgiving. Which, is why the audience and Crowley love him. He’s so gosh darn good at being good (and a bastard). However, Heaven is a highly emotionally abusive and manipulative place and Aziraphale is traumatized by his experiences.

God openly admits that interacting with her is like playing a game in a dark room where the dealer is always smiling and changing the rules. Essentially, the “parental” figure is distant, and often unsupportive of the “child’s” needs or thoughts. I already explain in Part 1 how Heaven’s angels (cough cough Gabriel the asshole cough cough) are explicitly emotinally abusive.

This is compounded not just by the threat of expulsion, but the reality of it. On no uncertain terms, dissenters (demons) are cast out, ultimately denied the love and care supposedly implicit in being a child of God. They’re all typecasted as evil, bad, wrong creatures unable to do the right thing. Although abuse is a complex, often fluid, mix of manipulation, intimidation, and aggression, the lack of communication and implicit expectation of compliance, breeds abuse and instills trauma. God’s threats of abandonment, coupled with the intimidation by archangels with their own agenda (see part 1), and a lack of any healthy support system loom low over the head of our favorite angel.

For example, in the beginning, he already knows the difference between kindness and cruelty; right and wrong; good and evil. Instead of he simply “does” his little rebellious act of giving humans his flaming sword, no questions, no permission, no bureaucracy, just action out of kindness and compassion for these creatures who had just gone against a direct order from God. Aziraphale is doing good at this moment. His only concern is with their ability to protect themselves and their children. He knows that not doing so would put these creatures in harm's way. He doesn’t hesitate, he doesn’t ask questions, he doesn’t doubt himself, he simply acts.

However, everyone else around him who he is expected to trust, would not think his actions are just. God angrily confronts him, Gabriel belittles him, and the guard preparing him for battle insults and shouts at him (calling him a pathetic excuse for an angel). This all causes him significant anxiety because of the threat of real loss. Not just of love and home and family, but of identity. Aziraphale’s defining defining defining trait is his joy of helping others and pride at being an angel. He loves being “good”, and damn it is he good at the job (if not a tad naive at times).

But, several times (with God, Gabriel, and the guard respectively), we see the impact of this decision to give away his sword results in a spike in Aziraphale’s anxiety, fear, and denial. All of which are byproducts of his abuse. Unfortunately, his instinct for deflection from a problem is the perfect recipe for several shots of top shelf levels of repression, his primary coping skill.

Based on his conditioning, he should have shunned the humans just like everyone else. He should have smitten the demon Crowley and turned his back on humanity. He is an angel, after all, and he can’t disobey orders. But he doesn’t hate them, he can’t hate them. He loves them all.

Aziraphale constantly shows that he loves hard and honestly. He must have been the only one listening when God said to love all of her creatures because he genuinely wants to help them. But, based on the lack of communication and distinct power imbalance between him and the other angels, he’s not sure HOW to do it all the time.

He’s constantly fearing that he’ll be punished for his compassion, for his love of humanity. Which, in many ways shows the complexity of his abuse at work. He doesn’t hate Heaven or God, not really, he’s a firm believer that they are the purveyor of good up until it’s obvious that no one (save Crowley) ever intended to treat him like an equal. Instead, throughout the series, he deflects from Heaven’s actions, believes them when they say that demons are evil, that giving his sword away was wrong, that God is unquestionable, that he is soft (read: pathetic). Even, and often frequently, when he knows that the information is wrong.

He knows through Crowley that demons aren’t (all) bad. It is evident when Crowley performs miracles for him unprompted, or when they go for lunch, or when they time and time again try to save each other. He also knows he loves Crowley based on the fact that he actively seeks out his companionship and is terrified of someone “destroying” his best friend.

He knows from Pepper and Adam and Eve, that giving humans a way to protect themselves is necessary (even if War is bred from it) otherwise they wouldn’t have been able to survive.

He knows that God IS questionable ANDD that you should be questioning her because drowning!! a whole bunch of people!! including kids!! is wrong!! and he knows as much when he distances himself from Her choices.

He knows he’s not soft (even though Gabriel tells him he is) because he’s willing to do the difficult thing when the cards are down, and even then he believes fighting a war is not the solution to Armageddon. Hell, he knows neither killing the kid or going to war is going to solve all his problems. But being compassionate, or young, or naive isn’t a bad thing, it makes him stronger and able to identify with Adams’ fears about being able to stop Satan.

But just because he can see the truth, no, rather ESPECIALLY because he can see that this is true, he knows he’s woefully underprepared for any sort of confrontation on his feelings. He doesn’t know how to cope with the mental disconnect between his heart and Heaven. How can Heaven be right if they’re wrong about smiting, and safety, and him, and Crowley? The short answer is they can’t. But, he doesn’t know what to do with this paradox, and the doubt scares him to the core.

At first, he denies there’s anything traumatic going on. There is nothing wrong with the constant fear of falling by stepping out of line. That there is nothing what’s happening or how Crowley is being portrayed as evil when at best he’s wily. He buys the “there’s nothing to see here” mask of Heaven.

He is clearly more than willing to internalize the dismissive nature of Gabriel (see parallels between being called soft and calling himself soft). He can excuse the fear tactics of Uriel (just trying to prevent the wily snake from doing bad like demons are supposed to do). He can even rationalize the destruction of Noah, Sodom, Gamorah, and Jesus (all part of the ineffable plan). However, none of it is healthy for him, because it requires him to distance himself from the good he wants to do and the abuse he’s suffering.

But, once it’s too overwhelming to handle, and the cost of acknowledging that there is a problem with the system is too high, he starts repressing his desires.

For example, he represses his instinct for action allll the time. Where in the garden he just DID give humans his flaming sword, he has to physically restrain himself from action and calling Crowley the moment he learns the truth about Adam. He goes as far as LIE to Crowley that he’d tell him the news when he got it because he’s unable to coordinate the conflicting ideas that demons are bad, but Crowley is good. Subsequently, he represses his love for Crowley down, because the only supportive thing in his life Also is the biggest thing that goes against everything else he’s been conditioned to believe.

Whenever there’s a whisper of doubt, he falls back on the dogmatism of “I’m an angel”, as a reason for action or inaction and represses his instinct to do anything about it. But a denial of a problem isn’t solving the problem. Repressing his issues aren’t coping with the underlining abuse that the whole power structure is based on.

Let’s take the break-up scene where shit had hit the fan.

The end of the world is coming and Aziraphale KNOWS where the anti-christ is. He’s figured it all out, and he needs to act, the thing he is more afraid of doing than anything else. He acted in the garden, had done what needed to be done, and for his efforts was shamed into denying what he had done, and lied to (almost) everyone about giving it away. He got lucky he didn’t fall then (lying to God and all) and he simply doesn’t have the support system to risk her or Heaven’s wrath.

So, he can’t just act on it. He doesn’t just go in on a Bentley on fire or run away with Crowley, or even just admit that there’s a problem with heaven. He’s to a point where he’s been conditioned into thinking anything but Heaven’s side is wrong. He’s clinging to the only thing that feels stable when he’s scared. Put simply, he can’t admit that the right thing to do here is to tell Crowley, tell him, fix the problem, or fight Heaven and Hell trying. He’s too afraid of the real consequences. He’s too afraid of being alone, without anyone to lean on. And, it doesn’t help that he’s been manipulated for 6000 years into not questioning procedure.

But then he’s confronted by Crowley. Crowley tells him (under the assumption they were always on their own side) that if they can’t solve Armageddon they’ll run away together and try their best avoiding the war. But to run away would be admitting that Heaven is >gasp< wrong. That there is a flaw with his home, his family, with God’s plan and he doesn’t have the tools to do that. Sure, by this point he’s questioned everything they’ve told him about Demons, but it’s ingrained into his psyche. He either has to trust Heaven or be damned to hell. There is no middle ground for Aziraphale.

So he does the only thing he knows how to do in a traumatic situation. He deflects. He reverts back to 6000 years ago when he should be horrified by Crowley. He says “we’re on opposite sides” and that he doesn’t like Crowley. He says they aren’t friends. He lies. Because it’s easier to lie than to confront his trauma. It’s easier to lie and say there’s nothing there (it’s easier to repress) than to admit that yes, he wants to run away, he wants to be with Crowley, he wants to be on their own side. It’s easier than the alternative which is a loss of identity and safety.

All of this to say that his reaction is the consequence of repressing his doubts about heaven and his love for Crowley. He explodes at the demon. He says harmful, hurtful, things to his best friend because he doesn’t know how to reconcile the abusive power structure of heaven and the support Crowley has given him. So, he chooses not to act. He can’t leave. No matter how much he wants to go with Crowley at that moment, his repressed feelings won’t let him. Even as he’s days away from Armageddon, he can’t work through his feelings yet. He doesn’t have the tools or security yet. He doesn’t feel safe.

If he weren’t repressing his actions -- if he would look the abusive gift horse (Heaven) in the mouth -- he would see that Heaven is manipulating him, intimidating him until they get what they want -- war. But, he doesn’t know how to cut the cord, or to do the right thing without falling. And falling, without anyone to catch him, is too scary, too daunting. He’s traumatized into believing the only one capable of loving him, even if it’s conditionally, is Heaven and God, and losing that support is out of the question. What he doesn’t realize is that Crowley is head over heels in love with him, and (even if he weren’t in love) prepared to catch Aziraphale from falling.

Because it’s always Crowley. It is only Crowley -- the supposedly “bad” character -- who supports him about the sword. Only Crowley reassures him his actions and justifications are valid and soothes his anxiety, reaffirming that his position matters. For all the fanfare Crowley makes about being “not nice”, or jabs at Aziraphale’s love of magic, he never once belittles his angel. Sure, there’s light-hearted banter, but nothing he says really has a bite to it. Nothing he does is to harm or degrade Aziraphale. There’s mutual respect, care, and active love oozing off of Crowley towards Aziraphale.

The only caveat is that due to Crowley’s own dubious coping skills (see next installment) he clashes with Aziraphale’s understanding of the world at the park. Consequently, it and makes Aziraphale’s coming to terms with his own Heavenly abuse harder, because he can’t be sure Crowley will be there to catch him.

It is not until he tries to go to the top, go directly to God, and met with indifference, and then is confronted by the guard who tells him he’s pathetic does he realize that there is, in fact, a problem with the way he’s being treated and the way the system is built to fail. It’s built to harm humanity and destroy everything Angels are supposed to love. It is until he cannot deny it any longer, or risk everything he’s trying to say, that he finally stops repressing his instincts AND HE GOES. He leaves Heaven, a man on a mission style. And it’s not that he falls so much, that he jumps.

The terror of falling is the lack of control and concent. If he’s pushed, falling backward into the hellfire, he loses his identity, he loses his home, and he loses his only sense of self. If he jumps, however, he’s on his own terms (for the first time in the whole blessed series) and he can make choices about who is in his life and how. If he jumps, he’s not at the mercy of his distant “parent” or his blood-lust fellow angels. In short, if he jumps, he’s free of the power imposed onto him. If he jumps he’s able to make his own decisions. If he jumps he’ll end up with Crowley.

So he jumps.

The bottom line is that repressing his behaviors is harmful to his own mental health and nearly destroys the only meaningful, and unconditional relationship he has. Since the dawn of time, and perhaps before then, Heaven has made it perfectly clear that he is disposable. Aziraphale is just another name on a roster who is causing too much trouble for the strict dogma of Heaven, Gabriel, and God. Those in charge treat him like a half-rate idiot who is missing the point of their war because he’s soft, or naive, or too human. They all treat him as lesser because he’s different, and believe they hold all the power over him.

Which brings me to the whole point of unpacking how Aziraphale fails at coping with trauma. Equality. When he goes to heaven with his news, he’s met with dismissive coddling and outright insult. When he >spoiler< masquerades as Crowley, he is 3 against 1, horribly outnumbered, and not expected (well Crowly’s not expected) to get through the “trial” alive. God herself literally speaks down to him when asking about his sword. There is, ultimately, no winning for Aziraphale in Heaven or Hell’s systems. He has to cobble together his own side to truly be able to move forward and past the trauma.

AND there is ONLY 1 single character in the whole series sees eye to eye with Aziraphale (quite literally). Only 1 character who treats him as an equal on the same level. 1 person who recognizes Aziraphale as a force to be reckoned with in his own right, and someone who is so worthy of love and trust without question.

Crowley.

It is only when he is fully vulnerable to Crowley, that he can stop repressing his doubts and, as it were, put all of his cards on the table. Once Heaven shows its hand, it is painfully obvious that no one ever intended to help or support Aziraphale’s efforts to save humanity. Once he commits to Crowley he can no longer repress his doubts or ignore the reality of the abusive situation he’d been living through. He is forced to reconcile the idea that he is loved as he is with Crowley, whereas in heaven, he is simply a disposable soldier to them, not an equal who deserves to be heard and whose concerns should be considered.

However, despite the trauma and abuse, and more incredibly, despite his repression, he is able to cope with some of his issues throughout time with his relationship with Crowley. He is able to work through his concerns about Noah and Jesus with Crowley by his side, listening and validating his experience and concern as something to be taken seriously like no one else had ever done before. Together, they treat each other with mutual respect, and more than losing his status as an Angel, Aziraphale is terrified shitless at the idea of losing Crowley. The aforementioned break-up scenes are catalysts that force Aziraphale to make a choice and resist the intimidation and trauma caused by Heaven. And, once he commits to Crowley, there’s no going back, because, for the first time in over 6,000 years, he has a support system ready and able to help him cope with his issues.

And so, Aziraphale begins his road to recovery thanks to the help of his loving and supportive relationship with Crowley which I will do a deep dive of soon.

Sooooooooo this section went on wayyyyyy longer than intended. Look out for a Crowley-centric version tomorrow and a few more than 4 installments of this meta over the next week. #sorry.

TLDR: Aziraphale’s abuse doesn’t allow him to cope with the fact his bosses and his instincts are telling him to do 2 very different things. He manages to cope but only by using denial and repression. It is only when he finally puts down his defenses and being honest with himself that he is not in a good place in Heaven, but he is in a good place with Crowley, that he can start working toward recovery.

Thanks for coming to my Ted talk.

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chilly-me-softly · 5 years

Text

Coparents (Part 3) • Ben Chilwell

Part 1 and Part 2 here if you haven’t read them yet! Hope you like it x ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

One week. Seven days to get caught.

She would have liked to have been more careful, but it was not for her son's sake or for all the bullshit she continues to fill her brain. The reality was that yes, she also wants to understand if she and Ben are made for a real relationship before she even let her son in. But that came later. First she wants to enjoy the boy without having to share him with anyone, she wants to be able to kiss him or take his hand away from prying eyes.

And they thought they had been as careful as possible with everyone, careful not to exchange too many looks at dinner with friends, careful in saying or doing things too compromising in front of Ryan. Rotate the people with whom they left the boy because the excuses wouldn’t hold up. Behave normally, you know.

But it was difficult to do so when their child seemed to be in the middle of the ‘I want my parents together' phase and he thought he was acting like Cupid for the two of them. Not that they were bothered when he tried to keep Ben stay the night or when he interweaved their hands together when they all fell asleep randomly on the couch watching a movie or when he pretended to have a nightmare -always when Ben stayed at home- and forced them to sleep together in her bed. In fact, they should have thanked him for the moments he was inevitably making them go through together and to tell the truth, they felt a bit guilty because they saw the sadness in his eyes when one of them go home or when he doesn’t succeed in something he had put on his head.

But that day had been different, and then things had fallen apart from there. Ben had come home with some doughnuts and they had breakfast all together as a family, then they had taken him to school on foot. And Ryan had printed a huge smile on his face on the way, happy for once to be able to walk through the school gate hand in hand with his mom and dad. Together. And he almost didn't want to take their hands off when they arrived, almost fearing they might disappear at any moment. And when they picked him up that afternoon, Ryan literally threw himself on his father’s arms seeing them together again.

In his little head everything was already settled, the pair only need one last little push before finally becoming a permanent family and throw away one of the two houses. And they’re on the field at the end of a game, Ryan runs to James who takes him in his arms without batting an eyelid when “Uncle James can I come to sleep at yours tonight so mom and dad can make a baby?" says the little one as if it were the most natural thing in the world, leaving the boy somewhat stunned.

The two parents turn with their eyes wide open, caught by surprise as well as the others around them. “Honey…” had tried the girl by extending her hand to caress him, but the boy removes from her touch and hides his face in James' neck. He knew that look, she used it when she had to tell him he couldn't eat fries at dinner for the third night in a row and put meat and salad in front of him.

Never in his life Ben had seen that look in (Y/N)’s eyes, the one they exchange quickly watching the scene that is full of ‘my son hates me, I'm a bad mother'. She doesn't know how she manages not to burst into tears there at that moment. So Ben tries, stroking his back but the baby twists again. And then with a nod James takes them all into the locker room and they follow him without saying a word, Ben's hand squeezes hers as if to instil courage into each other.

“Hey, little man" James tries to get him to come off by whispering in his ear, but Ryan holds those slender arms around his neck so tightly he gives it up. And Ben looks at him shaking his head slightly, kneeling down in front of his son who gives him his back, telling him that it’s okay. They could face it with him there too, if only they would have avoided repeating it a second time.

"Ryan" (Y/N) calls him, perhaps a little too sternly because the child unconsciously clings to James even more. And that small gesture adds to the weight she feels in her chest. She sighs, sitting next to James, "Can I know why you said that to Uncle J?"

The only thing they receive in response is an incomprehensible mumble due to his pressed face against James' shoulder, but it's understandable he's crying. For a moment even her eyes fill with tears but she bites her lip so hard she resists. Taken by an act of courage, Ben stretches out to snatch Ryan from his friend's arms but the child begins to kick and Ben loses his balance, finding himself on the ground. The baby in his arms crying inconsolably.

They just can't figure out what might have brought them to that moment. They are sure they haven’t kissed when he was around or behaved differently from the usual, but somehow in their plan there was a leak and now they were back to the wall. They had to reveal the truth, and then they'd think about the consequences.

“I just wanted a kiss" hiccups the baby in his father's arms when he realizes he won't get his uncle's comfortable chest back. The faces of those present are softened and a spark seems to illuminate her face. Make a baby. A kiss. Of course! She remembers the conversation about his friend's brother, as not ready to address the issue yet they hadn’t commented. And now there they are, dealing with a hysterical child who somehow understood that something had changed.

"Oh love" she sighs more softly this time, but she still doesn't dare to approach for fear of another refusal, "why did you want it so bad?"

"You brought me to school together" he sniffles leaning on his father's chest and Ben passes a thumb over his cheeks to wipe away some tears, which had fortunately stopped falling.

"Can you keep a secret?" Ben whispers, looking at her who nods. Time to drop the bomb. The child looks up at him, his blue eyes looking at him curious. "Mom and I ... we have already kissed"

Silence. The child looks at them without saying a word. Then he smiles widely and jumps out of his father's arms. The locker room is filled with cries of joy this time, the baby looks like a loose cannon jumping all over the room.

"Ryan" she calls him signaling to approach her and he does it with pleasure this time, going to crash into her mother's legs. "Easy" she chuckles. He's too happy, he climbs on her legs to leave a kiss on her cheek. A gesture to apologize to her, a gesture that makes her forget the bad feelings of a while ago. "I want you to be clear about something, young man. This doesn’t mean mom and dad will have a baby. Just that they are together" and this time she wants to clarify, in order to avoid other problems in a few weeks.

"Madders" Ben recalls his friend who has since been enjoying the whole scene, surprised by the news but also amused by the child. They will have a lot to do while growing up.

"Ugly bastard" he murmurs before hitting the brunette who is still on the ground, and pretending to struggle to mess up his hair while he does nothing but laugh.

***

"How's you doing?" Ben sighs, leaving a light kiss, with his eyes closed, on her temple. She leans lightly on him and sighs in turn, following with her eyes their son who is trying to take possession of the ball and James who enjoys making him jump from one side to another, “A baby takes a lot of energy" he chuckles.

"Mommy, daddy come play with us!" the boy screams as he comes running and standing between her legs, she is sitting on the bench in their garden with a glass of lemonade in her hands.

"Mommy can't little man" she cooes passing her hand through his hair and the baby puts on a lovely pout before getting picked up by Uncle James who makes him squeal. "Come join my team RyRy, we already have a ball to play with"

"No Uncle J, mom is beautiful. And my little sister is in there" the child points out her figure proudly, happy to finally have his wish fulfilled, to then be dragged farther away from the blonde.

"Our little Stella" Ben murmurs laying a hand on the seven months belly now.

"Daaaaaad" the child calls him almost complaining and then passes under his uncle's legs, taking advantage of the height difference.

"Go, we'll cheer for our men from here" and he leaves a last kiss on her lips and belly before joins the group.

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell imagine #ben chilwell imagines #football imagine #football imagines

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imightbeapotatobutihavestandards · 5 years

Text

He’s Hurting Me Epilogue

Summary: The end

Warnings: Swearing, explicit language, hint at panic attacks, trust me though it’s mainly fluff

(Also important note at end)

Epilogue

Patton happily hummed to himself as he set down the tray of Halloween themed treats. He’d made extras specially for movie night, the rest at the café had sold out fairly quickly. There were cupcakes decorated with an immaculate swirl of pale green icing with black and orange sprinkles, soft gingerbread biscuits decorated to look like ghosts, and his personal favourite; Rice Krispie cakes in the shape of a pumpkin. He placed them across the coffee table, which had been covered by a black cover and adorned with candles, props, even some confetti in the shape of bats. Although Halloween wasn’t really Patton’s thing, he’d never miss an opportunity for special treats and a chance to decorate. In fact, it was what he loved most about owning a café; the seasonal decorations he could put up, transforming his café into another world, though he always kept the comfortable vibe. The café currently, was adorned with dark curtains, carked pumpkins, scented candles and mini cauldrons, even adding themed fairy lights. Thomas had helped Patton put everything up, even adding a couple of details, but Patton really did pour his heart out into decorating. Even better was now, Patton had the chance of decorating his own home! The prospect filled him with joy, and he’d immediately set to work, buying far more items then necessary. He only “spook-ified”(as he liked to say) his living room, adding small figurines of ghosts and bats, themed cutlery and, of course, orange fairy lights. Patton took a step back, admiring his work. He’d missed decorating so much, this had been the first opportunity he’d had in a while. Mike had never liked decorating, he’d always said-

No. Patton scolded himself. No thinking about Mike.

It had been several months since the fight… it had been hard to forgive himself for that. He still couldn’t really, he got them all hurt. Even Roman, who’d narrowly avoided getting punched, had a patch of deep purple and crimson on his shoulder from the corner of the photo frame hurled at him. Patton had been unable to stay in his own home for a while, every night he felt he could see Mike through the windows, hear him opening the door, feel him when he lay alone in bed. He slept at Logan’s for a while, who insisted Patton sleep in his bed. But, lying in the dark, alone, in an unfamiliar room, was equally as bad for Patton’s psyche. It was even more painful, even more terrifying. He wondered if that was how Logan felt when he was forced to sleep in Patton’s room when they were younger. He’d felt awful after that; Logan had been forced out of his house, Patton had run away, he was being stupid, he should just go back home and grow up, he was such a cry-baby, and attention whore, just a-

Patton took a breath, trying to banish those thoughts. He never could. They always came back. And each time they came back roaring; drilling themselves into his skull, burying themselves in the back of his mind. Nothing could flush them out, not fully, they always lingered. Whore, useless, pathetic. They haunted him, taunting him as malevolent ghosts. But, he knew how to fight them now. He had a chance, and although they never fully left him, they were weakened, bordering on manageable. It got easier every battle. It would continue to get easier. That’s what he told himself, that’s how he fought them.

It had been two nights of sleeping at Logan’s before he broke down, he’d tried to reserve tears for when he was alone in the bathroom, where he’d stifle them into a towel and hope Logan couldn’t hear. The third night, they both decided to watch a film; something happy, something forgetful. It had been so… nice. It was relaxed, and calm and okay, Patton didn’t feel like, at any moment, he’d feel hands on him, or at any moment he’d hear that familiar voice yelling over the hum of the television. He felt okay. Then the film had ended, and the threat came back. He stood, legs already weak, he looked towards Logan’s room, the room he’d stolen from him. The room he was scared of. He was alone again. He was vulnerable alone. Logan had bid him goodnight, but noticed that slight flicker in his eye, the distant look of fear in the glow of artificial light.

“Are you okay?”

“No.”

Then Patton had bawled. Pathetic. He’d sobbed onto Logan. Burden. Admitted to how scared he’d felt. Baby. How alone he’d felt. Attention whore.

Logan had held him, asking nothing in return, barely glancing at his face, just held him. Patton felt all of his will drain from his body then, it felt like he was back on his couch, bearing his soul to Logan all over again. He wanted this forever, the feeling of Logan’s arms wrapped around him, holding his broken pieces together. He must have said it too, as the next thing he knew was the feeling of weightlessness, the feeling of movement. Logan had carried him to the room, dropped him softly on the bed, then lay next to him, pulling the covers over both of them and allowing Patton to curl up in his arms. Whore. In that moment Patton couldn’t care, he wouldn’t care, he was too warm, and comfy, and protected. Logan protected him, Logan meant safety.

Patton still wasn’t entirely comfortable in his own home, the others stayed round occasionally, or, on a particularly rough night, he stayed with them. But he cried a lot less now. He smiled a lot more. Maybe not as much as he used to, but it was more, and it was infectious. Patton liked smiling. He liked laughing, and joking, and living. He felt more like himself than he had in a while, the other day he’d decided he wanted to see Virgil; so he went to visit him at work. He decided he wanted make something for Logan; so he baked cookies for him and his students. He saw something he thought Roman would like; so he bought it. If he saw his friends; he could breathe. He could do all these things freely, he didn’t have to worry about offending Mike. He didn’t have to worry about Mike at all. He didn’t have to think about Mike. So he didn’t. Or, he tried not to.

Instead of thinking, Patton moved to the kitchen, grabbing down four mugs and setting them out expectantly, waiting for his friend’s to come. He couldn’t help the slight anxiety he felt coursing through him; it was nearly Halloween, and it was Logan’s turn to pick a film. Now, Patton hated horror films, he despised them. As did Roman. And, despite what many people thought, Virgil hated them perhaps the most. All three of them, could not stand horror, they just simply couldn’t deal with the tension, the jump-scares, the gore. They were awful. They’d scream, they’d hide, on one occasion Patton had even cried- the woman murdered her kitten, poor Patton’s heart was shattered, they swore never to watch that film again, it was pretty awful anyway.

Logan, on the other hand, found their fear to be pointless. It was fake after all, and most of the time you could predict when something was about to happen. It was all cheap jump scares and shock tactics. However, Logan did enjoy watching them, especially when he found good ones. He loved the art behind a horror film, and how it could instil such fear in it’s viewers, so watching these films with his friends was excellent for research; their reactions to such predictable tricks were truly fascinating… and quite funny.

Right at that moment, the doorbell rang, jolting Patton from his thoughts and startling him quite a bit. He breathed deeply, calming himself down, and made his way to the door. And who was waiting on the other side, but Logan. Patton smiled brightly, if a bit nervously, hugging him.

“I’m scared to ask, but what are we watching today?” Patton enquired, shutting the door behind both of them.

Logan smiled, it was a rare smile; it was bright and large and genuine and so so beautiful. He pulled his backpack- which carried all resources needed for staying the night, including his onesie- off, unzipping it quickly and, almost excitedly, pulling out the large box set, beaming.

“Alien!” Patton read, his heart leapt; one of Logan’s favourite films. It had science fiction, well-done horror, and some of the best animatronics and practical effects in cinema history, only surpassed by Jurassic Park, and The Thing (but they couldn’t watch that because… well, Patton couldn’t deal with Drag Me To Hell, Logan was not putting him through that. The infamous dog scene would almost certainly destroy him.) The entire set design was fascinating, the practical effects were phenomenal, the cast were amazing, the alien, the androids, the famous chestburster scene where the cast members reactions were entirely raw and real- what’s not to love?

Patton was relieved, he could deal with Alien; he remembered one night when Logan was still living at his house; he’d been particularly upset one night, so Patton had sacrificed his sleep and agreed to watch Alien with him. At the time, Patton was scared, he’d curled into Logan, hidden his face in his shoulder, covered his eyes with the nearest blanket. However, now he knew what happened, he could deal with it then. What makes horror the most terrifying I suspense; the unknown. Patton no longer had to worry about that. Also (spoiler) the cat survives, so there is a large silver lining to watching this film. Logan knew this, of course. He wouldn’t force Patton to sit through something that would truly terrify him, he should have known. Logan, although found humour in their fear, didn’t want anyone to be upset, Patton realised how silly he was for even worrying. Logan saved those truly, deeply, frightening and disturbing films to watch himself, he’d never put them through that… well, maybe he’d show Roman a clip or two.

“Tea, Logan?” Patton asked, already beginning to wander off to the kitchen, while the taller man placed his bag down, next to the couch.

“Yes, please.” He called as Patton clicked down the pre-prepared kettle, watching it bubble. He set about preparing the tea for both of them, Logan’s signature constellation mug sitting patiently next to Patton’s colourful one. As he went about making the tea, Logan walked in behind him, resting his hip against the counter and smiling to himself. Patton was humming. Lightly and under his breath. But that just made it even more adorable. His smile crumbled slightly at the feeling flooding his chest. They hadn’t spoken about what happened between them, there had been a silent agreement to leave it. Logan didn’t want to force him into anything, he wanted to allow Patton time to heal, and what he needed for that was a friend. So a friend Logan would be, even despite that warmth that blossomed in his chest when the other was around, the feeling that was stronger than it had ever been before. It felt so close, the possibility was tangible, it hung thick in the air around them at all times, but they could find comfort in it, safe in the knowledge they’d wait for each other. Wait like they had done back in high school, but now the ending seemed so much clearer. Patton needed space, and perhaps so did Logan, to make sure he wasn’t forcing this, just grasping hold of a childhood longing for comfort that morphed into an idea of love. He didn’t think he was, but he wanted to make sure.

“How have you been, Patton?” Logan asked softly.

“Y’know, I’m actually doing alright.” The other turned with a soft smile. “Shops been going well. Halloween’s always a lot of fun, though Thomas did want to make some spider ginger bread cookies, I was not letting that happen.” He laughed, handing Logan his tea. “What about you?”

A few hours later, the four of them were curled up together on the sofa; all wearing onesies. Roman had huddled into Virgil’s side and was currently using him as a shield, while Virgil himself was gripping tightly onto Logan’s hand and arm. Logan’s other arm was around Patton, who was comfortably nuzzled against him. Logan smiled; enjoying admiring the filmmaking, and his friend’s reactions. Virgil seemed fine, just squeezing his hand every now and again,, gripping a little harder on the soft fur of the onesie sleeve, Patton was also okay, resting comfortably. Roman alternatively, was squeaking slightly, making a consistent running commentary in a voice a bit too loud and a but too high, desperately trying to bury himself in Virgil’s shoulder, yet his genuine curiosity and interest in the film meant he couldn’t look away for long; it was a vicious cycle, and quite entertaining to watch. Any concern that Roman might be genuinely terrified and need a break was eased by the grin that would occasionally peak out in a moment of relief, or the small chuckle after a particularly loud shriek.

Patton was quite enjoying Roman’s commentary, often adding his own. The flip between exclamations and laughter was an entertaining mix; perfect for the spooky season. In fact, everything about this was perfect; the feeling of Logan’s easy breathing, the even rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of the arm around him, comforting and protecting him, that appreciative smile embellishing the taller’s features, it was the secret smile when he thought no one was looking. Perfect. Well, almost perfect. Patton loved this feeling. He loved Logan. He knew he did. Logan knew, obviously, it was hard to forget the confession, and he hadn’t pushed him to start something, that made Patton love him more. But now, he’d never been more sure that he wanted to do something, he wanted to do now. Right then and there, but he knew he couldn’t. So he’d settle with this perfection instead.

All of them were perfect; the three of them. It wasn’t just Logan who’d helped him, it was never going to be. Roman and Virgil had been amazing; they’d often pop in to see him, at the shop or at home, whenever they could. The late night conversations with Virgil had resumed, and Patton was never afraid to initiate them, to admit to the fear that was seeping back into his bones. Roman frequently went on walks with Patton, where they could talk, usually with a coffee or hot cocoa. They’d chat, then stop, and both admire the brilliance of the changing fall colours around them; the reds, oranges, yellows. It would paint the landscape, and they’d be but streaks and smudges against it, fading against the vivid colours around them. Patton loved it. He loved Roman, and Virgil too, not the same way he loved Logan, but it was just as strong.

Eventually the movie came to an end, Patton stood to flick the lights on, revelling immediate noise of chatter, there was no longer a tense silence, on the contrary there was already a small debate forming. Deciding on he wanted a drink before the next movie was played, Patton began gathering their mugs together to return to the kitchen.

“I’ll help.” Logan stated, grabbing the two closest to him, and standing. Patton paused, what had he just been telling himself? Needed to find time to ask Logan. Now was time. A good a time as any. He thought about the arm over his shoulder, with a couple words it could mean so much more, or the same amount but in a different way. He’d waited God knows how many years for this, he wasn’t sure he could wait anymore. With a deep breath, he steel himself, unable to hold back the sudden rush of nerves in case he’d misjudged this. He really hoped he hadn’t. Breathe Patton, you got this. He said to himself, before following Logan out to the kitchen.

Virgil took one look at Patton, one glance, he’d been doing similar all evening, and he knew exactly what was going to happen. His friend was easy to read, like a book, but not a book, it was easier than a book now. He’d let his walls down, at least around them, and thankfully forgotten to build them back up. Virgil thought he had been good at reading people before, but Patton was the anomaly, not any more. It was brought about too late, brought about because his lack of perception meant- stop. He couldn’t let himself think that, not tonight.

Virgil glanced over his shoulder, watching the two walk to the next room, before huddling even closer to Roman. “He’s gonna do it Ro. I can feel it.” Roman knew exactly what was going on, but made an incredulous face and shook his head. Virgil smirked. “Wanna bet on it?”

***

“Hey Lo, can I talk to you?” Patton asked. “Well, it’s not really talk, more a question, I wanted to ask. If that’s okay? Not… that wasn’t the question I was-“

“Patton.” Logan interrupted with a fond smile. “Ask whatever you want.”

“Okay well…” Patton began, wringing his hands, realising he had no idea what to say. After a moment, he begun; “Do you remember what happened… what we said before… Mike came back home?” Patton asked, almost cautiously.

“Yes. I do.” Logan replied, something indescribably flooding over him; a warmth, a wave almost like shock, a hope that this was going where he wanted it to go.

“Well, I um, I meant it. You’ve been an amazing friend to me for so long, so many years, you’ve stuck with me and helped me and cared. We’ve been through a lot together. All of us have but it’s different with us, because, I guess I don’t want you to just be a friend.” He finished, looking up and smiling softly. He’d said it, he’d extended the hand, he just hoped Logan would accept it. He took a step closer, acting on a dare, a risk.

“A-are you sure? Are you sure this is what you want.” Logan needed to make sure this was okay. That this was real. He knew he should believe it, but a part of him couldn’t, even after what they said; what if that was just desperation and confusion rolled into one? What if that’s all it was now?

What if it was wrong?

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” Another step. Another risk. “I love you Lo.” Those words echoed back to himself, but he didn’t flinch back or recoil, he meant it. He really meant it. “May I kiss you?” Another step. The final risk.

Logan couldn’t answer, instead his hands found Patton’s waist, pulling them closer and connecting their lips. Patton’s hands cupped the side of Logan’s face, lips happily accepting the kiss, both their eyes squeezed shut. For a moment he was sure his heart stopped beating, he was soaring, above it all, lost in feeling. There was no guilt, no voices, no hate, just something warm and bright surging through his chest, his heart. Just Logan’s lips on his. This is what a kiss should feel like. Patton leaned his forehead against Logan’s, smiling wide, suddenly aware of his pounding heart. Logan was smiling too, grinning. Beautiful. He couldn’t have imagined this, how it would feel, of course he’d tried but nothing came close. He suddenly missed the contact, so he pushed forward and lightly kissing Logan again. The movement was soft, not pushy or needy, yet it lit a fire, something burning deep within him. Not desire, not in that way, not right now. It was adoration. He adored this. He adored Logan.

“I love you too.” Logan smiled, after they’d rested their heads together again.

When they returned, they were both beaming. Neither could wipe the smile from their faces, not even Logan, it was stuck their. Glued. But they didn’t care. They didn’t care about anything. Just that light feeling, their own elation. Love. Of course love.

“I FUCKING TOLD YOU!” Virgil announced, hand shooting up into the air in victory. “No one gonna pick up the phone? Because I fucking called it. Looks like you owe me, Princey.” He added smugly, an almost evil twinkle in his eye.

“Let’s just get this next movie on.” Roman grumbled, a soft smile tugging at his pout.

***

Patton giggled again as Virgil cursed someone’s stupidity and Roman yelped, happy to finally have them back, to finally be able to cuddle up against them and that be entirely accepted. Cuddle up against his two best friends and his boyfriend. He was more than happy. Overjoyed, in fact. He was still fighting a smile, even as people were torn apart; he’d just hide his face in his boyfriend’s shirt. It didn’t feel new to say, but felt so different, felt right. Even the word made him smile more, perhaps that was childish, but he didn’t care. Logan loved him even though he was childish at times. His smile was turning into a grin. Logan loved him. Without the doubt or fear or uncertainty, he was sure of the fact that his love was shared.

Patton thought for a moment; happy. Was he happy? No. Not all the time. But that was normal, no one can be okay all the time. He didn’t have to hide from that. That’s what he was learning. Was he happy now? Unbelievably so. And that was okay too, that was more than okay. He didn’t have to feel guilty for feeling happy. He’d seek happiness instead. He couldn’t always reach it though, not quite, but it wasn’t so difficult to find anymore.

Happy.

That’s what he was now, right this moment. He was happy.

***

So, I hope this lived up to your expectations and delivered, I’m sorry this chapter took so long but hey! Logicality! Finally!

I really wasn’t sure if I was gonna include it but, I thought we needed something sweet, after all Patton has been through enough.

I cannot thank everyone enough for sticking with this, it’s been absolutely amazing and I’m genuinely sad this is over (well not quite) but it feels like this became a large part of my life, I was often thinking of what I was going to write

Saying that I have already finished writing some parts of the sequel/prequel in no particular order, so although that might be a while, it is coming. I really wanted to flesh out these characters more because I have so many little ideas about their lives and couldn’t include it in here. I’ll still be using the same taglist so lemme know if you’d like to be removed.

Seriously though, thank you so much anyone who read this. I really hope you liked it, and I’ll see you soon.

Taglist:

@bunny222 @smedenn @beautifully-terribly @hellomusicalnerdhere @its-jambi-baby @rainbow-sides @awkwardangie410 @bluebloodstains @sopi-montezzz @am-i-heaven-or-am-i-hell @toomuchandnotenough @angered-turtle @roman-is-a-dramatic-prince @madly-handsome @candiukas @hanramz-the-fander @beach-fan @average-everyday-sane-pyscho @inan-sanders @oh-star-how-the-mighty-fall @choppedexpertbonkfire @pattonistooprecious @purpleshipper @the-life-ofa-troubled-ace @smileydog101 @daughterofsomnus @a-time-traveling-whovian @galaxygals @thatrandomautist @gay-glitter-bomb @amazable01 @blueeyedscorpion @anxious-huffle-puff @luarpice @biacetrash @astral-eclipse @fandoms-winkitywonk @her-royal-crayness @thefallendog @lionlickers05 @cochroachkappa-blog @ohwaitimtrash @impossiblepentagon @virgilscat @doepuffsss @roseisuppose

#sander sides #sanders sides fic #thomas sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides au #prinxiety #logicality

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goforwardgreenwriter-blog · 6 years

Text

The Worm Reads: Empire of Storms, Ch 3 - 4

Last time we learned that SJM has an unhealthy fascination with describing the breasts of her female characters. I wonder what else this book will throw at us.....

Manon Blackbeak stood at attention by one end of the long, dark bridge into Morath and watched her grandmother’s coven descend from the gray clouds.

MANON MY QUEEN!!! I’ve seen so many antis praise Manon and I totally agree, she’s a refreshing and just plain bad ass character in a cast of stale personality lacking cardboard cut outs.

[Manon’s] grandmother had come to Morath. Or what was left of it, when one-third was nothing more than rubble.

Oh yeah, that happened. Uhh evil stuff and villain plotting was happening at Morath until a minor character from T0G blew it up or something? Can’t remember but it probably won’t be that important after this chapter because SJM has smut to get to, ain’t no room for plot on this boat!

So Manon takes her grandmother to see the duke and we get this fragment.

At the Matron’s accusation—and the line her Thirteen were drawing. Had drawn for some time now.

I don’t know why SJM does this constantly. I suppose to put emphasize on what is being said, but when you do that every other paragraph, it loses its effect. Just have the first sentence there and boom, there you go.

Manon assessed the exits, the windows, the weapons she would use when they fought their way out. Instinct had her stepping in front of her grandmother; training had her palming two knives before the golden-eyed man could blink.

Hell yeahhhhh Manon is so awesome. See. this is what Aelin should have been! Bad ass, but not strutting around flaunting it 24/7.

The duke has changed forms and reveals his true name, Erawan, and Vernon is there too. So is Maeve the main villain or these two guys?

And with the fiery queen now gone, Dorian Havilliard and his city were defenseless. It mattered little to [Manon]. It was war.

Riiight, because nobody can possibly get anything done without the amazing Aelin there to defend them... I’m not saying a bunch of magic-less humans could stand a chance against the witches, but do you have to make it all about how powerful Aelin is?

Perrington—Erawan—shrugged his broad shoulders.

Even the villains aren’t safe from SJM’s obsession with broad shoulders.

“Damage the city enough to instill fear, show our power. But that wall … Bring it down.” [Manon] only said, “Why?” [Vernon’s] golden eyes simmered like hot coals. “Because destroying a symbol can break the spirits of men as much as bloodshed.”

Not gonna lie, that’s pretty bad ass in a twisted, villain way. Not only does he want to destroy the city and no doubt kill countless people, but he’s gonna destroy a symbol of their city to break their spirits? That’s a good threat for a villain to make.

Manon leaves the meeting and tells her witches to suit up for battle.

She found the mute blacksmith by his usual forge, sweat streaming down his soot-stained brow. But his eyes were solid, calm, as he pulled back the canvas tarp on his worktable to reveal her armor. Polished, ready.

(...)

It fitted easily, its interior cool against her hot skin. Even with the shadows that hid most of her face, she could see the blacksmith with perfect clarity as his chin dipped in approval. She had no idea why she bothered, but Manon found herself saying, “Thank you.”

The sweet, sweet taste of character development that sadly, if you haven’t read the books might not make sense out of context.

Onto chapter 4!

Aedion and Rowan did not let Darrow’s messenger go ahead to warn the lords of their arrival. If this was some maneuver to get them on uneven footing, despite all that Murtaugh and Ren had done for them this spring, then they’d gain the advantage whatever way they could.

You just said yourself that Murtaugh and Ren owe you a debt and want to be your allies. You can trust them, I’m pretty sure they aren’t planning anything against you.

Aelin and her court go to a tavern, and I gotta admit, I’m pretty hyped. I know tavern scenes are a cliche in fantasy but honestly, I love them! I love the atmosphere, the blend of comedy and drama, whispering secrets over the table and noticing suspicious figures across the room. Or maybe I just played too much D&D.

Inside the inn, there were no rooms to be found for rent, and the taproom itself was crammed full of travelers, hunters, and whoever else was escaping, the downpour. Some even sat against the walls—and Aelin supposed that it was how she and her friends might very well spend their evening once this meeting concluded. A few heads twisted their way as they entered, but dripping hoods and cloaks concealed their faces and weapons, and those heads quickly returned to their drinks or cards or drunken songs.

See, this is imagery I love!

Lysandra had finally shifted back into her human form—and true to her oath months ago, her once-full breasts were now smaller.

Aaand SJM ruined it. Though I guess the focus of breasts has a point here...? I don’t know why Lysandra vowed to have smaller breasts next time she transformed back to human form but whatever.

Fleetfoot brushed against her calf, tail wagging, and Aelin smiled down at the hound, who shook herself again, flinging droplets of water. Lysandra snorted. Bringing a wet dog into a covert meeting—very queenly.

At least SJM is honest about Aelin not giving a fuck about appearing like a proper queen.

Aelin squared her shoulders as Aedion stepped into the room, already speaking to those inside: “Just like you bastards to make us trudge through the rain because you don’t want to get wet. Ren, looking put-out, as usual. Murtaugh, always a pleasure. Darrow—your hair looks as bad as mine.”

Jesus does it run in the family? Aedion this kind of banter is not proper in a meeting that’ll determine the future of your kingdom and your lives!

Aelin didn’t know how she hadn’t recognized Murtaugh that night she’d gone to the warehouse to end so many of them. Especially when he’d been the one who halted her slaughtering. The other old man, though … while wrinkled, his face was strong—hard. Without amusement or joy or warmth. A man used to getting his way, to being obeyed without question. His body was thin and wiry, but his spine was still straight. Not a warrior of the sword, but of the mind.

Ohhh please don’t tell me Darrow is gonna be a villain please please please

“Lord Darrow,” she said, inclining her head. She couldn’t help the crooked grin. “You look toasty.” Darrow’s plain face remained unmoved. Unimpressed. Well, then.

Yeah it’s almost like this is an important political meeting and there’s no place for shitty one liners in them....hm...

Humility—gratitude. She should try; she could try, damn it. Darrow had sacrificed for her kingdom; he had men and money to offer in the upcoming battle with Erawan. She had called this meeting; she had asked these lords to meet them. Who cared if it was in another location? They were all here. It was enough.

Aelin becoming self aware once again of her frankly shitty attitude. Will she keep it up and try to improve though?

Aelin began counting to ten at the tone. But it was Aedion who said as he claimed a seat, “Careful, Darrow.” Darrow interlaced his gnarled but manicured fingers and set them on the table. “Or what? Shall you burn me to ash, Princess? Melt my bones?”

DARROW CALLING AELIN OUT ON HER SHIT TEMPER! I love Darrow he is my new favorite.

“And what bloodline,” Darrow asked, his mouth tightening at the brand across Lysandra’s tattoo, the mark visible no matter what form she took, “does Lady Lysandra hail from?” “We didn’t arrange this meeting to discuss bloodlines and heritage,” Aelin countered evenly.

I get that you don’t want Darrow being an asshole over Lysandra’s past, but..... you kinda did arrange this meeting for that reason, though? Aelin’s heritage is going to be examined in this meeting so....

Aelin cocked her head, choosing each word, forcing herself to think it through for once. “Is there a skill set that you would prefer I possess?” Darrow smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Some control would do Your Highness well.”

Darrow, it’s illegal to roast someone this badly.

Darrow reveals that in order for a ruler to claim the throne of Terrasen, they must be approved by the ruling families of each territory, meaning that Aelin can’t just strut in and demand the throne. Big fuckin’ shock, Aelin, this is how shit is done!

Darrow didn’t so much as flinch. “You can hardly expect us to allow a nineteen-year-old assassin to parade into our kingdom and start yapping orders, regardless of her bloodline.”

DARROW IS THE BEST CHARACTER IN T0G 2K18 FIGHT ME ON THIS YOU WON’T WIN

Admittedly, Darrow does refer to Lysandra as a whore, which isn’t cool, but damn other than that he is spot on! Maybe SJM won’t force him to be a villain and let him be an obstacle and challenge that forces Aelin to stop her shitty temperamental ways!

But Rowan leaned back in his chair with a faint smile—and it was a horrifying, terrible thing. “I have known many princesses with kingdoms to inherit, Lord Darrow, and I can tell you that absolutely none of them were ever stupid enough to allow a male to manipulate them that way, least of all my queen. But if I were going to scheme my way onto a throne, I’d pick a far more peaceful and prosperous kingdom.” He shrugged. “But I do not think my brother and sister in this room would allow me to live for very long if they suspected I meant their queen ill—or their kingdom.”

Trying not to let myself have feels over him calling Aedion and Lysandra his brother/sister..... I love the “misfits become family” trope, what can I say.

But Darrow went on before Aelin could speak or incinerate the room. “Perhaps, Aedion, if you hope to still gain an official position in Terrasen, you could see if your kin in Wendlyn have reconsidered the betrothal proposition of so many years ago. See if they’ll recognize you as family. What a difference it might have made, if you and our beloved Princess Aelin had been betrothed—if Wendlyn had not rejected the offer to formally unite our kingdoms, likely at Maeve’s behest.” A smile in Rowan’s direction.

SJM, are you... are you suggesting incest? Look, I know shit like this happened in real medieval times, but this is a fantasy series, you don’t have to keep gross shit like that if you’re not gonna go all the way and properly explain and address it.

Darrow says one mean comment about Aedion and Aelin neARLY STABS HIM WITH A DAGGER I’M NOT EVEN JOKING.

Aelin lunged. Not with flame, but steel. The dagger shuddering between Darrow’s fingers flickered with the light of the crackling hearth.

Real professional behavior there, Aelin! Is this how you plain to rule your kingdom, just threaten and kill anyone you disagree with?

“I see you inherited your father’s temper,” Darrow sneered. “Is this how you plan to rule? When you don’t like someone, you’ll threaten them?”

Same hat Darrow! Same hat!

Darrow lifted his brows. “All the work I have done, all that I have sacrificed these past ten years, has been in Orlon’s name, to honor him and to save his kingdom—my kingdom. I do not plan to let a spoiled, arrogant child destroy that with her temper tantrums. Did you enjoy the riches of Rifthold these years, Princess? Was it very easy to forget us in the North when you were buying clothes and serving the monster who butchered your family and friends?”

I know I’m sounding like a broken record here but holy shit, THANK YOU DARROW. Darrow is such an amazing character and a breath of fresh air from everyone kissing Aelin’s ass.

Beneath the table, Rowan’s hand shot out to grip [Aelin’s] own, his fingers coated in ice that soothed the fire starting to flicker at her nails. Not in warning or reprimand—just to tell her that he, too, was struggling with the effort to keep from using the pewter food platter to smash in Darrow’s face.

Wow you two are gonna be great rulers. They’re both temperamental and violent as hell and will probably bring their kingdom to its knees because someone stared at them wrong.

“Should you return to Orynth and seize your throne without our invitation, it will be considered an act of war and treason.” Darrow pulled a piece of paper from his jacket—lots of fancy writing and four different signatures on the bottom. “As of this moment, until it is otherwise decided, you shall remain a princess by blood— but not queen.”

HELL YEAH DARROW!!! Aelin hasn’t proved herself worthy of being queen yet, least of all with threatening someone she’s supposed to be making an ally with. Maybe SJM has turned a new leaf and this entire book will be about Aelin having to actually sit down, shut up, and learn to be humble and how to be a good ruler. One can dream...

#anti sjm #the worm reads: eos #the worm talks #anti eos #anti tog

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thecaffeinebookwarrior · 7 years

Text

How to Write a Novel: Tips For Visual Thinkers.

1. Plotting is your friend.

This is basically a must for all writers (or at least, it makes our job significantly easier/less time consuming/less likely to make us want to rip our hair out by the roots), but visual thinkers tend to be great at plotting. There’s something about a visible outline that can be inexplicably pleasing to us, and there are so many great ways to go about it. Here are a few examples:

The Three-Act Structure

This one is one of the simplest: it’s divided into the tried-and-true three acts, or parts, a la William Shakespeare, and includes a basic synopsis of what happens in each. It’s simple, it’s familiar, it’s easy to add to, and it get’s the job done.

It starts with Act I -- i.e. the set-up, or establishing the status quo -- which is usually best if it’s the shortest act, as it tends to bore audiences quickly. This leads to Act II, typically the longest, which introduces the disruptor and shows how characters deal with it, and is sandwiched by Act III (the resolution.)

The Chapter-by-Chapter

This is the one I use the most. It allows you to elucidate on the goings on of your novel in greater detail than the quintessential three act synopsis generally could, fully mapping out your manuscript one chapter at a time. The descriptions can be as simple or as elaborate as you need them to be, and can be added to or edited throughout the progression of your novel.

Can easily be added to/combined with the three-act structure.

The Character Arc(s)

This isn’t one that I’ve used a lot, but it can be a lot of fun, particularly for voice-driven/literary works: instead on focusing on the events of the plot, this one centralizes predominantly around the arc of your main character/characters. As with its plot-driven predecessors, it can be in point-by-point/chapter-by-chapter format, and is a great way to map out character development.

The Tent Moments

By “tent moments,” I mean the moments that hold up the foundation (i.e. the plot) of the novel, in the way that poles and wires hold up a tent. This one builds off of the most prevalent moments of the novel -- the one’s you’re righting the story around -- and is great for writers that want to cut straight to the action. Write them out in bullet points, and plan the rest of the novel around them.

The Mind Map

This one’s a lot of fun, and as an artist, I should probably start to use it more. It allows you to plot out your novel the way you would a family tree, using doodles, illustrations, and symbols to your heart’s content. Here’s a link to how to create basic mind maps on YouTube.

2. “Show don’t tell” is probably your strong suit.

If you’re a visual thinker, your scenes are probably at least partially originally construed as movie scenes in your head. This can be a good thing, so long as you can harness a little of that mental cinematography and make your readers visualize the scenes the way you do.

A lot of published authors have a real big problem with giving laundry lists of character traits rather than allowing me to just see for myself. Maybe I’m spoiled by the admittedly copious amounts of fanfiction I indulge in, where the writer blissfully assumes that I know the characters already and let’s the personalities and visuals do the talking. Either way, the pervasive “telling” approach does get tedious.

Here’s a hypothetical example. Let’s say you wanted to describe a big, tough, scary guy, who your main character is afraid of. The “tell” approach might go something like this:

Tommy was walking along when he was approached by a big, tough, scary guy who looked sort of angry.

“Hey, kid,” said the guy. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to a friend’s house,” Tommy replied.

I know, right? This is Boring with a capital ‘B.’

On the other hand, let’s check out the “show” approach:

The man lumbered towards Tommy, shaved head pink and glistening in the late afternoon sun. His beady eyes glinted predatorily beneath the thick, angry bushes of his brows.

“Hey, kid,” the man grunted, beefy arms folded over his pot belly. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to a friend’s house,” Tommy replied, hoping the man didn’t know that he was ditching school.

See how much better that is? We don’t need to be told the man is big, tough, and scary looking because the narrative shows us, and draws the reader a lot more in the process.

This goes for scene building, too. For example:

Exhibit A:

Tyrone stepped out onto his balcony. It was a beautiful night.

Lame.

Exhibit B:

Tyrone stepped out onto his balcony, looking up at the inky abyss of the night sky, dotted with countless stars and illuminated by the buttery white glow of the full moon.

Much better.

3. But conversely, know when to tell.

A book without any atmosphere or vivid, transformative descriptors tends to be, by and large, a dry and boring hunk of paper. That said, know when you’re showing the reader a little too much.

Too many descriptors will make your book overflow with purple prose, and likely become a pretentious read that no one wants to bother with.

So when do you “tell” instead of “show?” Well, for starters, when you’re transitioning from one scene to the next.

For example:

As the second hand of the clock sluggishly ticked along, the sky ever-so-slowly transitioning from cerulean, to lilac, to peachy sunset. Finally, it became inky black, the moon rising above the horizon and stars appearing by the time Lakisha got home.

These kind of transitions should be generally pretty immemorable, so if yours look like this you may want to revise.

Day turned into evening by the time Lakisha got home.

See? It’s that simple.

Another example is redundant descriptions: if you show the fudge out of a character when he/she/they are first introduced and create an impression that sticks with the reader, you probably don’t have to do it again.

You can emphasize features that stand out about the character (i.e. Milo’s huge, owline eyes illuminated eerily in the dark) but the reader probably doesn’t need a laundry list of the character’s physical attributes every other sentence. Just call the character by name, and for God’s sake, stay away from epithets: the blond man. The taller woman. The angel. Just, no. If the reader is aware of the character’s name, just say it, or rework the sentence.

All that said, it is important to instill a good mental image of your characters right off the bat.

Which brings us to my next point...

4. Master the art of character descriptions.

Visual thinkers tend to have a difficult time with character descriptions, because most of the time, they tend to envision their characters as played their favorite actors, or as looking like characters from their favorite movies or TV shows.

That’s why you’ll occasionally see characters popping up who are described as looking like, say, Chris Evans.

It’s a personal pet peeve of mine, because A) what if the reader has never seen Chris Evans? Granted, they’d probably have to be living on Mars, but you get the picture: you don’t want your readers to have to Google the celebrity you’re thirsting after in order for them to envision your character. B) It’s just plain lazy, and C) virtually everyone will know that the reason you made this character look like Chris Evans is because you want to bang Chris Evans.

Not that that’s bad or anything, but is that really what you want to be remembered for?

Now, I’m not saying don’t envision your characters as famous attractive people -- hell, that’s one of the paramount joys of being a writer. But so’s describing people! Describing characters is a lot of fun, draws in the reader, and really brings your character to life.

So what’s the solution? If you want your character to look like Chris Evans, describe Chris Evans.

Here’s an example of what I’m talking about:

Exhibit A:

The guy got out of the car to make sure Carlos was alright, and holy cow, he looked just like Dean Winchester!

No bueno. Besides the fact that I’m channeling the writing style of 50 Shades of Grey a little here, everyone who reads this is going to process that you’re basically writing Supernatural fanfiction. That, or they’ll have to Google who Dean Winchester is, which, again, is no good.

Exhibit B:

The guy got out of the car to make sure Carlos was alright, his short, caramel blond hair stirring in the chilly wind and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. His eyes were wide with concern, and as he approached, Carlos could see that they were gold-tinged, peridot green in the late afternoon sun.

Also note that I’m keeping the description a little vague here; I’m doing this for two reasons, the first of which being that, in general, you’re not going to want to describe your characters down to the last detail. Trust me. It’s boring, and your readers are much more likely to become enamored with a well-written personality than they are a vacant sex doll. Next, by keeping the description a little vague, I effectively manage to channel a Dean Winchester-esque character without literally writing about Dean Winchester.

Let’s try another example:

Exhibit A:

Charlotte’s boyfriend looked just like Idris Elba.

Exhibit B:

Charlotte’s boyfriend was a stunning man, eyes pensive pools of dark brown amber and a smile so perfect that it could make you think he was deliciously prejudiced in your favor. His skin was dark copper, textured black hair gray at the temples, and he filled out a suit like no other.

Okay, that one may have been because I just really wanted to describe Idris Elba, but you get the point: it’s more engaging for the reader to be able to imagine your character instead of mentally inserting some sexy fictional character or actor, however beloved they may be.

So don’t skimp on the descriptions!

5. Don’t be afraid to find inspiration in other media!

A lot of older people recommend ditching TV completely in order to improve creativity and become a better writer. Personally, if you’ll pardon my French, I think this is bombastic horseshit.

TV and cinema are artistic mediums the same way anything else is. Moreover, the sheer amount of fanart and fanfiction -- some of which is legitimately better than most published content -- is proof to me that you can derive inspiration from these mediums as much as anything else.

The trick is to watch media that inspires you. I’m not going to say “good media” because that, in and of itself, is subjective. I, for example, think Supernatural is a fucking masterpiece of intertextual postmodernism and amazing characterization, whereas someone else might think it’s a hot mess of campy special effects and rambling plotlines. Conversely, one of my best friends loves Twilight, both the movies and the books, which, I’m going to confess, I don’t get at all. But it doesn’t matter that it isn’t good to me so long as it’s good to her.

So watch what inspires you. Consume any whatever movies, books, and shows you’re enthusiastic about, figure out what you love most about them, and apply that to your writing. Chances are, readers will find your enthusiasm infectious.

As a disclaimer, this is not to say you get a free pass from reading: I’ve never met a good writer who didn’t read voraciously. If you’re concerned that you can’t fall in love with books the way you used to (which, sadly, is a common phenomenon) fear not: I grappled with that problem after I started college, and I’ll be posting an article shortly on how to fall back in love reading.

So in the meanwhile, be sure to follow my blog, and stay tuned for future content!

(This one goes out to my friend, beta reader, and fellow writer @megpieeee, who is a tremendous visual thinker and whose books will make amazing movies someday.)

#the author speaks #writing tips #writing #reference #plotting #outlining #character description #characters #show vs tell #description #inspiration

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kathleenatmusic256a · 4 years

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HW 1: Reading Response 1, Design Etudes, and ChucK!

Reading Response to Ch. 1 - Principle 1.9, design is addition and 1.18, design is a thing in motion... classical music edition

I think it's interesting and notable that in music (for this entry, western classical music), a performer can be as much of a designer as a composer. Regardless of if one subscribes to the idea that music should be played "as the composer intended" for it to be played, or that a performer should have room to add their interpretation to a piece, the musical material is being shaped to some degree by both parties. When working on classical music, I choose to view a composition as an initial purpose/idea of a piece written with certain elements to tell a unique story, further contextualized by personal or societal happenings surrounding the composer at the time of writing. However, as we can't always know for sure what a composer wanted a piece to sound like, we as performers can flesh out the core ideas by adding detailed interpretations – design is addition. This poses a question in my mind of why western music history is so composer-centric when the performers should also be known for influencing style. This aspect of western music history deemphasizes performers and I hope to see more scholarship on performers.

For me, adding and discussing interpretation is the most enjoyable part of musicianship. I remember working on a piece with my friend and conductor, half playing and half talking through how we wanted to shape the work. We spent half an hour discussing how the end of a phrase in context of a larger section should be articulated to set the scene for the incoming section, which opened to how we both envisioned the form of the entire movement and how our different ideas of the movement's form were causing us to side with one articulation or another. Do I whip the end of the note to triumphantly establish an end to the section, or sustain to carry the note and marry my articulation with the entering trombones as to signal the continuation of a section? Depending on our interpretations, we could tell different stories with the music, even by playing one note differently. I ended up shifting my interpretation of the bigger picture and stood by the new articulation. To me, there is no wrong or right execution of a piece, but I personally like to honor the ideas on paper just as I want to tell a story that I want to share with others.

Design Etudes

1. Ysaye Solo Sonata No. 1 mvt. 3, Allegretto poco scherzoso

I am slightly hesitant to say this is designed, but I can't help but notice that in a joint effort by composer and performer, the designed performance of this piece conveyed an emotion difficult to explain in words as well as a turning point in the narrative that felt sublime.

Functionally, this sonata was written in homage to J. S. Bach's First Solo Violin Sonata in G Minor, borrowing from the Bach's form, harmonies, textures, tempi, etc. The third movement of the Ysaye shares a slow, lilting dance characteristic with the third movement from the Bach and is an enjoyable piece to relax to or provide entertainment. I really love this movement because of its simple, almost pastoral feel, but I will focus on one small idea from the piece that I think is a great example of color change. Around 1:02 in the video is the culmination of a tension buildup that one would expect to unfurl into a bigger climax, but it is instead met with a quieter, almost melancholic, honest, and vulnerable moment. I mention that performers are designers here because this effect is achieved in part by the performer’s conscious decision to leave a slight gap between the tension ramp and the quieter phrase, unwritten by the composer. Because of this small detail, I think it sounds even a bit more heartbreaking and has become something sublime through its form.

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2. California quail and poppy tea towel

This is honestly a flimsy towel that doesn't look like it will soak up much of anything, but I can't give it a real review because it's too pretty to use. As depicted, I hang it on a wall to admire the print of two quails (California state bird) in a lush orange poppy (California state flower) bed. There is truly no function of the illustration but to beautify wherever it is used, and it brought me much joy especially when I lived far from Californian nature to remember the quails' bouncy little feather hats. I found it more valuable to hang and look at than to use it and not admire the lovely art.

3. My bike water bottle

This water bottle is great on bike rides because not only does it keep me hydrated, but I can obnoxiously spray water at my face or my biking partner's face. The insulation keeps the water inside nice and cool, and the twist-to-open nozzle is fun because it can instill a bit of a scare into whoever it's aimed at. It's almost like it's a mecha weapon with an "engage target" state, though I'm pretty sure this is not how the designers intended people to use it… hmm. Maybe it's intentional. (I don't actually spray this at other people, just at myself.) But, to be able to spray at oneself heightens my biking experience, and none of my other water bottles spray nearly as forcefully.

Guerrilla Design

I had a habit tracker for September and decided that a plain chart was too boring, so I redid it into an Untitled Goose Game theme that I saw on Reddit and carried the orange theme over as my tracking symbol. It is much more enjoyable to use now even though it's the same functionally as it was before.

ChucK Exercise

ChucK: a disconcerting musical cryptogram...

#reading response

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evenstevensranked · 6 years

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#24: Season 3, Episode 10 - “Hutch Boy”

School bully Lloyd Offler targets Louis as his next victim. Meanwhile, Ren’s hair is accidentally dyed blonde!

First off, I just want to say that I'm dedicating this review to Brad Bufanda, the actor who played Lloyd. It was brought to my attention on Instagram that he just recently passed away on November 1st. He was 34. Very strange timing because this episode was next on my list already and I was working on the review as I found out. My heart kinda sank. I feel really weird segueing into my regular, light-hearted style now after the fact -- but I figure it's actually better to keep things light during darker times. So yeah. Let's do this!

This one opens with one of the most incredible things ever: a flying squirrel. Not an actual flying squirrel of course, but a mechanical one that Louis and Twitty rigged to scare Tom -- who happens to have an extremely specific and strange fear of flying squirrels. I wonder what instilled that fear? lol. How many squirrels have you seen flyin' around out there?

This bit used to have me in stitches. Tom’s terrified scream is something you have to hear for yourself.

Just then, some guy named Lloyd Offler approaches them and starts yelling at Louis for giving him "hard looks." Like, excuse me? I'll never understand how bullies pick their victims. Louis is the best, leave him alone. I know that Louis, Tawny, and Tom are supposed to be outcasts of sorts (leaving out Twitty because we’ve seen that he’s actually pretty popular)... But still. Louis is cool imo. Lloyd walks away, but not before letting Louis know that he’s on his radar now. Great.

~Radar~

Cut to the subplot. Ren volunteers her hair to the “Future Beauticians” Club, and let me tell you... I had such an ah-ha moment when I was re-watching this episode. For whatever reason, I always thought the club was called the Future PETITIONS club. Ruby says the name so fast it’s hard to understand. I was always so confused, like... What the heck is that? What petitions? And what do they have to do with dyeing hair? And then it hit me. I kid you not, it was like the skies opened up! "Beauticians” obviously makes so much more sense, lol.

To Ren’s horror, her hair turns out platinum blonde. Ruby has a flashback to the moment it all went wrong. We see that mid-gossip, she was distracted and poured soda into the dye mixture instead of whatever else she was supposed to use. I always felt personally responsible for this accident because she starts off the gossip with "So, I'm talkin' to Brittany..." Don't drag me into this, Ruby.

At least it was “natural” soda.

Ren is furious at first but soon notices that her hair is garnering attention. So she starts strutting down the hall to a "Walking on Sunshine" rip off.

This is another situation like the "Staying Alive" rip off in Stevens Genes. From memory, I would've bet money that the actual "Walking on Sunshine" was used here!! But nope. I'm still fascinated by how the brain can be tricked like that. Girls are staring at Ren with jealousy now and guys are checking her out... including Louis -- who doesn’t recognize her at first. It’s highly disturbing.

“hey, blondie... how u doin?” - Louis stop. Ignoring the fact that it’s Ren, it’s so weird to see Louis attempt to hit on someone. *shivers with disgust* I take back what I said about him being cool.

At lunch, the gang is laughing about how Lloyd’s name is spelled with two L’s. “Maybe he pronounces it La-Loyd?” Tawny jokes. Louis dies of laughter and says “...And my name’s La-Louis” so sarcastically. IT GETS ME EVERY TIME. Shia is so full of joy here and the whole scene has such an organic feel to it. You get the sense that these are real friends at school having a laugh. It’s contagious and warms my heart.

So pure.

Suddenly.......... this iMovie “suspense” sound effect plays twice as Lloyd appears hovering behind Louis asking “You having a good time, La-Louis?” Why are these double L jokes so funny to me?! Oh my god. Lloyd picks up Louis’ sandwich, licks it dramatically, and puts it back on his tray. Nice guy! Louis tries to reason with him, but Lloyd refuses and says “See you in shop class” ominously.

During shop class Louis is so afraid of what Lloyd might do, he’s quite literally shaking like a leaf. Twitty tries to reassure him by saying the teacher is nearby and won’t let anything happen to him. But then the teacher is all “I’m gonna step out of the room for a minute and I will take my time.” This is so good. Now that they’re alone, Lloyd snatches away Louis' “shelf” project and puts it in the hutch he's constructing. This is a great bit though because Louis decides to face Lloyd then and apologize (even though he did nothing wrong.) It’s really nice. Louis is so sincere and mature here. Lloyd seemingly accepts the apology... but then stuffs Louis into the hutch as well. (see cover photo)

Tom politely confronts Lloyd insisting he let Louis out of the hutch, before he says “I’m sorry it’s come to this...” and randomly goes completely black belt on Lloyd to everyone's shock. Then again, was it to everyone’s shock? Because their classmates emerged from their workstations, conveniently holding up wood for Tom to break lol. I love how the teacher walks back in while Tom is kickin’ around like he’s Jackie Chan, and has one of those “f this, I’m out” moments:

This show’s humor was way ahead of its time.

Louis is beyond shocked and it always cracks me up when Tom calmly helps Louis out of the hutch and whispers “Come on, buddy.” I don’t know what it is... but it’s just so freaking funny. There’s this hilarious ~zen~ music playing as well which is the icing on the cake. There’s a great line later that day when Louis starts evaluating the situation: “If Tom was the biggest wimp at school, and he saved MY butt? That means I’M THE BIGGEST WIMP AT SCHOOL.” ....true tho. Twitty mentions our good ol’ buddy Pete who everyone apparently prays to on this show when he says “Who would’ve known he was an honest to Pete, second degree black belt?!” lol.

To wrap up Ren’s plot, because not too much else happens: She basically becomes an overtly stereotypical blonde overnight. Constantly saying “oh muh gosh!,” reading fashion magazines during class, and blowing off her commitments to roller skate in the house instead.

Okay, is she curling her hair now? or did they honestly think we wouldn’t notice that Ren’s hair magically became curly after it was dyed blonde. Who picked this wig?

She also went out and got a whole new wardrobe to go with her hair or something?! Because these clothes she’s wearing do not seem like stuff she already had in her closet. Ruby rounds up a bunch of blondes from LJH and holds a mini intervention for Ren -- telling her that she’s giving blondes a bad name. And that’s pretty much it! Ruby dyes her hair back to normal.

I love how Ruby left her “a little souvenir” of blonde! I’ve been dyeing one small section of my hair blonde for years now, so this always makes me happy lol. Look at how much body Ren’s “hair” has when she’s blonde and how flat it is when she’s back to normal lol.... seems legit. I also definitely owned that yellow and blue striped top that girl on the left is wearing.

Back to Louis’ drama. Tom is outside casually practicing his martial arts when Louis approaches him with some hot chocolate from Doris. Tom’s so ~in the zone~ that he almost roundhouse kicks Louis in the face. I needed to gif it:

Louis tells Tom that he wants to be just like him, he wants to learn how to fight. Tom agrees to teach Louis ~his ways~ and I swear this is one of my favorite bits EVERRRRRRR. There’s no way I’m typing all of this out. You have to feast your eyes on the greatness yourself:

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“Louis... did I mention it takes 9 years to learn my ways?” - This show is absolute GOLD, I do not care what anyone says.

Who knew Fred Meyers could actually do all of that, though?! So yeah, after telling Lloyd he’d fight him, even though he can’t fight -- Tom tells Louis his only option is to “find his inner strength and harness it.” And Louis, being the actual genius he is, takes that advice quite literally. I also love how Louis just says “meet me in the alley at 7″ .......which alley, bro? Ya also gotta love that “The Rock” reference. (”If you smell what Louis is cookin’!”) This show really did pick the BEST things to reference when it came to pop culture. It feels like Dwayne Johnson is everywhere these days!

The last big scene of the episode is the alley sequence, and I love it so much. Louis has Beans and Twitty secretly help him work a harness he rigged to fly around like some crazy martial arts master just to freak Lloyd out and avoid fighting altogether. It starts off pretty hilarious (Louis literally does the macarena as a “kung fu” move) but then it gets serious for a minute and it’s perfect. Of course, it all goes down in flames and Lloyd sees the wire. It feels so satisfying to reach the heart of a bully. It's great when you start to see Lloyd feel bad about how he’s treated Louis and I freaking love how Louis gives in, but at the same time -- stands up for himself. He tells Lloyd to beat him up, almost pressuring him to do so -- which obviously makes Lloyd NOT want to beat him up. It's great.

“I’ve come to the realization that if I’m gonna get hit, I’m gonna get hit. You know what you’re gonna wanna do? Get some towels. ‘Cause I’m a bleeder.” - Yesss, Louis.

This leads to one of my favorite little exchanges in the series. Lloyd immediately becomes a huge softie and wants to know how Louis pulled off the harness trick and they quickly start bonding over engineering. Lloyd is all "I didn't know you were into mechanical stuff!" And Louis says "Yeah, dude. I am. But you were too busy putting me in your hutch." - I'm sooo glad they actually had Louis say that engineering is something he's into! Because otherwise, his inventions come across as nothing but wacky things that only exist to support the gags he pulls with no further explanation. Idk. It's such a short moment, but it makes me so happy every time!!! Louis even gives Lloyd a quick rundown of the materials he used to rig the harness and idk man, it just makes me smile. I LOVE THIS CHARACTER SO MUCH. (I also just noticed that the flying squirrel gag was solid foreshadowing for this harness rig.)

I always get a little sad that Lloyd didn't become a bit of a recurring character for the rest of the season or something. This final scene between them has a ~beginning of a beautiful friendship~ sort of vibe. Lloyd invites Louis to check out his home workshop and ugh it’s so nice. We hardly ever see Louis with any friends outside of his core group, let alone someone else who shares his love of engineering, so maybe that’s why this scene always hits me.

I really like this episode for some reason. Always have. Like, A LOT. I think it’s because of the big showdown in shop class. And Louis wanting to learn martial arts from Tom. And the flying squirrel. And Louis and Lloyd in the alley. It's all amazing. And Ren’s plot is pretty fun, too. This is just an awesome episode all around.

Rest in Peace, Brad Bufanda.

Thanks for reading! And please contribute to the conversation below if ya like.

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fandom-hell-ferrylass · 5 years

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A/N: here have a MCU drabble with one of my three-count’em-THREE fem!OCs 😅

I’m a dork 😁😁

“Válie? You in here?”

“On the balcony!”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips when a quick glance at the thin curtains confirmed the hazy silhouettes on the other side of the windows. Loki exhaled, picturing the annoyance and stress of the day leaving his body with the breath as he began shucking off pieces of his formal attire. He debated whether or not to hang the layers of robe back in the great wardrobe but settled on draping them over one of the chairs in the fireplace sitting area. Having seen his wife do just that more times than he could remember, Loki reasoned she wouldn’t mind him following in her footsteps.

Finding a change of clothes, soon enough he found himself in much more agreeable wear. The simple black trousers and green tunic felt almost non-existent against his skin after the heavy, constricting state robes, and the long brown vest swished pleasantly as he moved. The feel of the cool marble against his bare feet made him smile most of all, the sound of his footsteps echoing with the many games played with his children.

A feeling of release blossomed in his senses and Loki sighed again, content. He began walking to the open balcony door.

It was a scene that never failed to instill peace and joy in him - his two children sat at the small table, surrounded by crafts and toys and playthings, with their radiant mother hovering over them as she pointed to a page of the great book open in the middle of the table. He knew Valeriya worked very hard to ensure their children were well-taught about the two worlds they came from, and they'd quickly discovered the easiest way to build a foundation was to read to the pair.

"So what's today's book of the day, then?"

All three heads popped up and swiveled around to find where his voice was coming from. A bright smile graced Valeriya's face as she quickly straightened up and stood very still next to the table.

"Isä! You're back!" Stíg exploded out of his chair on the far side of the table and darted around his mother.

"Isä! Isä!" Somarliðr tumbled out of her own chair, staggering for a moment before she was close on her brother's heels. The pair of them bounded across the balcony and Loki braced himself. Just as they reached him, he scooped the children up, one under each arm, and spun all three around. The pair erupted with shrieks of joy as they flew.

Valeriya laughed, starting to straighten the children's school things as Loki set them back on their feet. The pair immediately spun and smished him with a giggling double-decker hug.

"Guess what we did today, Isä!" Somar squealed as Loki's nimble fingers found her side, making her squirm violently.

"What did you do, little girl?"

Stígandr squeezed his arms around his father's waist. "Mama let us try some of the training at the barracks!"

Loki chuckled as he managed to sit up with the two small things still firmly clinging to him. "Did she, now? And how did my little warriors fare?"

"We flat destroyed them!"

The sudden use of Earth-style vernacular had the man hunching up with laughter. For a second Stígandr and Somar looked at him with wide eyes, afraid they had done something. To allay their child's fear, Loki pulled them close and playfully blew raspberries against their cheeks. The pair squealed and fought to escape, which Loki eventually let them do and got back to his feet.

"Rakastan, come give me a hand and take these things back inside."

Loki moseyed toward the table as his children sprinted ahead. They quickly scooped up the two piles of supplies and books and darted back past him, swerving to avoid the grab he made at them.

"Put it all away this time, Stígandr, I don't want to see it just dumped in the alcove again!"

“Yes, Mama!”

The patter of small feet against marble faded, leaving the couple serenaded by soft birdsong and gentle gusts of wind. Valeriya puttered around the space, putting the area to full rights before straightening, hands braced against her back. Loki continued to stroll towards her, a quiet smile playing across his mouth as he took in the sight of his wife.

He hadn't had more than a few seconds to behold her when he first stepped outside. The outline of her full pregnant belly as she had turned had made his breath catch, like he'd momentarily forgotten she was with child again. Despite experiencing the event with her twice before, he still felt an overwhelming swell of pride and love and awe when he witnessed her positively celestial.

Overturning both their initial fears, Valeriya had taken to motherhood well, was crushing it, actually. Loki had found that his turbulent upbringing had not overshadowed the truths Frigga had taught him or the inherent constitution she had nurtured. It was forever a ride having both halves of their partnership be given over to endless snark and sarcasm and impish trickery, but they also bore strong spirits and balanced senses of honor. So far, both of their children showed immutable signs of good upbringing, with the flavorful dashes of mischief they were going to have no matter what. Hopefully, they could continue the streak with Child #3.

"There's about a thousand and one reasons I could guess why you've been staring at me for almost three minutes."

The soft, teasing voice jolted him out of his stupor. Loki blinked, refocusing his gaze from his wife's stomach to her smirking face, and immediately a matching look appeared on his. He took the last three steps towards her, watching as her head tipped almost fully back and to the side to keep her eyes locked with his.

"You're welcome to guess if you choose, but I would wager you already have a pretty good idea."

Her eyes immediately hooded as her tongue darted out to wet her lips. "Might it have anything to do with finding your pregnant wife incredibly hot and wanting to just take her right here on this balcony?"

His smirk followed hers into more darkly seductive territory. "... Maybe."

Wrapping his hands around her arms, he darted his head down to capture her lips in a consuming kiss. The happy moan she uttered at the action made his mouth curl in a smile even as he tilted his head to the other side, slanting deeply across her mouth. He felt Val dig her fingers into his tunic, pulling him as flush against her side as her belly would allow. The minuscule shift in position forced her head completely back, and Loki quickly slid one hand up her arm, skating across her bare collarbone before delicately cupping her throat just beneath her jaw. The sound this action elicited was much deeper, and he felt a delightful shudder wrack her body as she melted into his touch.

As versed as they were in the art of making out, eventually the couple had to separate for air. Loki shifted his hand, letting Val's head lower to where she could press her nose against the hollow of his throat as he rested his tingling lips against her forehead. His hand now splayed across her throat and cheek, and he tenderly stroked his thumb across the smooth skin.

He waited until he felt the pulse calm in her neck to curl his fingers beneath her chin and lift her face to his for another kiss. This time he felt her smile against his mouth.

"So you're super delicious and I'd love to follow the obvious roadsigns where this would go, but you remember the bit about me being pregnant? Not like super, but like, very pregnant?"

"I seem to recall that not stopping us the first two times." He tilted her head up a bit more, pressing feathery kisses across her cheeks.

"I mean, true, but also I'm gonna be honest and say I'm not really gunning for you right now, hon. Your growing brood is only slightly exhausting, Little Stranger no exception.”

Now he left off peppering kisses as a chuckle rumbled in his chest. "I'll admit, that's fair. Not to mention our current monsters will probably be running back here in the next thirty seconds."

“At least.” Detangling her fingers, Valeriya let Loki turn her and draw her back against his chest. She reached up to anchor her hands around the arm he wrapped across her shoulders, his other hand coming to rest softly against her bump. She sighed, letting her weight rest against him, feeling a resolutely ignored twinge in her lower back dissipate slightly. As she settled, Loki rested his cheek against his wife's hair, his soft nuzzles drawing happy, contented hums from the woman. A faint echo of childish voices floated through the balcony doors.

"Hei herrani."

"Hei itse, jumalatar."

(rough Finnish translations c/o GoogleTranslate cause I’m lazy)

Isä - Daddy

Rakastan - my loves

Hei herrani - hello my lord

Hei itse, jumalatar - hello yourself, goddess

and say hello to one Valeriya Harlow, former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and dear beloved wife of our favorite Trickster.

#Loki #loki (marvel)#loki laufeyson #Marvel #MCU #mcu fanfiction #mcu oc #loki x oc #OC: Valeriya Harlow #loki odinson #OC: Stígandr Harlow Lokisson #OC: Somarliðr Harlow Lokisdóttir #fem!oc #kid!oc

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lilac-milk-moon · 5 years

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Family and Passive Income — Sitting Poolside with JJ from A Journey to FI

The Sitting Poolside interview series

When people think of retirement, scenes of beachfront homes, rounds of golf, or reading by the pool come to mind. Sitting Poolside is a series of interviews that challenges that notion and other financial misperceptions. The series name pokes fun at the stereotypes, but it’s also an opportunity to discuss people’s real stories and unique insights. So grab a piña colada and pull up your lounge chair!

JJ from A Journey to FI

Hi, I’m JJ. I’m originally from Maracaibo, Venezuela. A husband, and father of two wonderful boys. I’m also an engineer who became fascinated with Personal Financial and the concept of Financial Independence. This led to the decision of starting a blog to document our thoughts and share our journey. My blog is A Journey to FI.

Growing up in Venezuela

Mr. SR (MSR): On your blog, you share that you and your wife are Venezuelan, and now living in the States. How did your early years in Venezuela give you a different perspective about money compared to what you see as a typical American mindset?

JJ: My parents came from low-income families. In South America, this meant a dual-income was a need, not want. They exchanged their time (away from us) for money. My father understood the importance of using money as a tool. He was, and still is, a big believer in living below your means and avoiding lifestyle inflation.

As a teenager, I remember my dad telling me that in times of abundance, my savings rate should be at its highest levels. The reason for this was simple, always prepare yourself for when things go south. He wasn’t thinking about a catastrophe, but as a full-time employee himself, he knew he wasn’t indispensable. These lessons stuck with me and I credit them for my starting to save at such a young age.

My perspective about money was certainly influenced by the reality of living in a developing country; however, it was my parents who instilled key concepts around money management: specifically the importance of saving for the future.

MSR: What was your concept of wealth when you were growing up?

JJ: This might sound silly to you but, as a little boy, the concept of wealth meant having a lot of US dollars and traveling to the United States for vacation. On a more serious note, it was defined as a deliverable of a plan that required the following:

Go to college, and more specifically engineering (high income),

Get a job in the Oil & Gas industry (high-paying jobs),

Get married,

Buy a house,

Have kids and,

Work until you can’t anymore.

Career and wealth

MSR: What is your concept of wealth or financial success now? What were the major influences that changed your view?

JJ: Today, we see Financial Independence as the true definition of success. As a result, we live a more intentional life driven by specific goals. Save, invest, and create sources of passive income to cover our monthly expenses. Simple and straightforward but requires teamwork and alignment.

Our view around money was influenced by many sources of information: books, podcasts, and blogs; however, it was curiosity and a desire to take control of our finances what led to a major inflection point in our lives. If you keep reading you’ll get more context around this answer.

MSR: What is your current career status? How do you like to spend your time when you’re not working?

JJ: I’m married with kids, and I have a full-time job as a petroleum engineer. Outside of work, it’s all about family time. We love sports and traveling so we try to do both as much as possible.

MSR: Describe your financial journey.

As a couple, we felt our relationship with money was in a good place. Working, saving, and investing in a 401(k) seemed like the perfect plan for retirement. In 2013, we became homeowners for the first time and this felt like the perfect seal to common expectations society had from us.

That same year we were blessed with the arrival of Tomas who came right around Christmas time. By far, the best present ever and an event that triggered seeing life from a different perspective. All of a sudden our attitude towards money started to change.

My 401(k) was in good shape but the majority of our savings were sitting in a low-interest savings account. Starting an HSA was simple but we weren’t intentional about how to manage it in order to maximize its value. Everything about Personal Finance (PF) started to appeal to both of us (me more than my wife) but at the same time, we felt overwhelmed by the perceived complexity of the subject.

We moved to Colorado in 2015. During my commute, I started listening to podcasts about money in an effort to see if there was a way somebody could democratize these concepts for me. Little did we know this would cause a major inflection point in our lives. Going down the rabbit hole is probably an understatement. One podcast led to blogs, books, other podcasts and, best of all, the discovery of a community pursuing this crazy idea about being Financially Independent (FI). Early retirement sounded fascinating and super exciting.

Fast forward to 2019 and we now are a family of four! Tomas (5 years old) and Matias (1.5 years old) have brought nothing but joy to our lives.

Our relationship with money has turned 180° and it feels like we are now on the same page. We are big fans of low-cost-passively managed index funds (VTSAX and FSKAX) and of keeping fees down to the bare minimum. We’ve become DIYers so our costs are essentially the fees funds charge.

For the past five years, we’ve paid ourselves first maximizing annual contributions of all tax-deferred vehicles including one 401(k), one HSA, and two IRAs (via backdoor Roth) all while investing in a taxable account and having a savings rate of approximately 40% based on one household income.

Last year, we also did a mega backdoor Roth conversion which allowed us to stash up to the maximum defined contribution limit in 2018 ($55,000). This has been possible thanks to after-tax 401(k) contributions available at work. In 2019, it’s game on!

Real estate is also part of our portfolio. We currently own 5 rental properties (2 SFH and 3 condos) that have done pretty well for us. This is one strategy we would like to continue to explore based on the potential of generating passive income.

We believe net-worth is a great key performance indicator (KPI); however, cash flow is also important as it could enable us to cover our monthly expenses, especially when thinking about retiring early.

MSR: On your site, you mention that you’re not FI just yet. How far along are you? How do you plan for your life to change once you do reach FI?

JJ: We’ve been asked this question in the past. The short answer is that we don’t have a set timeline or dollar amount. Personally, I’d love to get to FI before I turn 50 but time will tell. In terms of the dollar amount (per the 4% rule) you could say we are halfway there; however, our goal is to generate enough passive income (via rental properties & businesses) to minimize the need for liquidating paper assets.

I’m not really sure what will happen once we reach FI. If anything, it will be about having options to do the things we love and to live our lives on our own terms. I love my job and I’m very well compensated, but to have the option of walking away (if I choose to do so) would be pretty sweet.

Real estate passive income strategy

MSR: You mention passive income as part of your strategy to reach FI. Can you tell us more about your philosophy? I know you mentioned rental property at what point — can you share more about your experience with that?

JJ: As far as passive income, we decided to explore of real estate investing. I did quite a bit of research using resources such as biggerpockets.com, coachcarson.com, affordanything.com, listenmoneymatters.com, as well as, talking to one of my very good friends who’s also a REI. I strongly believe one should only invest in something you understand so It was important to me to learn as much as I could (still learning) before making any decisions.

I also wanted to navigate all the hype in this space making sure I became aware of the good and the bad about the potential scenario of being a landlord. After a lot of analysis, my wife and I came to the realization that a good way to get started was through turnkey REI and for it to be our of state. I believe there are opportunities out there but Colorado is pushing the limit on this one.

Once settled on the idea of using a turnkey company, we did due diligence and decided to partner with a very well know company in the Memphis area. We’ve bought two houses and are pretty happy with their service. If I were to summarize my experience: 1) completely hands-off, 2) customer service is second to none, 3) and the return on cash has met our expectations at ~ 12%.

I know you’ll hear others in the REI domain talking about numbers higher than 12% but when you go turnkey, numbers will be lower. If you can’t stomach that then this option might not be good for you. For us, it works.

In addition to these 2 properties, we also own 3 condos in Florida. We decided to buy them via a partnership and on our own. My partner lives in Florida so I could say we have boots on the ground; however, these properties were pretty much turnkey. We bought them from previous REIs who were trying to adjust their portfolio. In my opinion, we got them at a fair price. We also had 0 vacancies because some of them came with good tenants. Returns have been good so far (lower than 12% because they were cash purchases).

As far as long term goals, we want to get ~10 more homes (forecasted monthly cash flow should cover our expenses). Hopefully, we get 2 in 2020 via turnkey. We haven’t been timing the market but is nice to see that interest rates have come down. The turnkey company in Memphis is waiting for a green light so they can start sending me houses. I’m very picky (location, floorplan, rehab, price) so we will see what happens. Between now and early/mid 2020 I hope to have enough funds to cover the downpayment of 1-2 houses. We’ll see what happens.

MSR: What do you consider to be your biggest failure or regret?

JJ: Not failures but missed opportunities.

I started at my current job in 2009 but became more intentional about investing (outside of my 401(k)) in 2015. Time and compounding interest are your best friends so missing out on those 6 years hurts.

We lived in Colorado from 2010-2012 and rented that entire time. Today, we watch the Denver market and know we could have bought 1-3 properties that would have appreciated more than 50% if not more.

MSR: What’s the most helpful book you’ve read recently?

JJ: At work, we are constantly reading books to debate and improve ourselves as a leadership team. The last one we read was The Checklist Manifesto.

Even though the narrative is centered around healthcare it was pretty easy to see analogies in our industry but also personal finance. I highly recommend this book. You can’t underestimate the power of creating a checklist and, more importantly, following through.

MSR: What’s the best advice you’ve ever been given?

JJ: Have fun and enjoy the journey.

I recently attended CampFI Rocky Mountains and met wonderful individuals. One evening, I was chatting with one of the attendees and shared 1) my obsession around looking for ways to optimize our finances (I actually wrote a post about this) and 2) its ramifications on our well-being as a family. He patiently listened to my story and after sharing details about our plan and some of the frustration I had about things I could/should be doing he said the following:

Dude, you guys are doing great! You have to learn to relax and to take care of your family, especially your wife. Talk to her, make sure she always feels like part of the team and above all enjoy the ride.

His comments were reassuring but a reminder that my “Why of FI” is my family.

MSR: I love the advice that you gave — have fun and enjoy the journey.

I am tempted too, at times, to focus on optimizing our savings so much that we aren’t able to enjoy the journey. What are some things you’ve done in the last few years to enjoy each step along the way?

JJ: My answer is pretty simple … traveling. I’ve written a couple of posts of recent trips on the blog. The intent is to 1) share cool destinations we’ve been fortunate to visit, 2) share tips on travel hacking and 3) as an outlet for not talking about financial stuff 24/7.

MSR: JJ, thank you for sharing your family’s story! I appreciate your time, and I’m excited to see how your family and the blog continue to progress.

The post Family and Passive Income — Sitting Poolside with JJ from A Journey to FI appeared first on Semi-Retire Plan.

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729renegades · 5 years

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BEING HEALTHY ON THE INSIDE AND OUT – PART 1

Here at Renegades we are constantly trying to show more and more business owners that there is more to life than the daily grind of self-employment. We are working hard behind the scenes to develop a stepped process that will allow business owners, regardless of where they are on their journey a system that if followed will lead to success in their business and personal lives.

Over the next 2 months I want to share a section of that process and here’s the first part for you.

Health and Wellbeing and being healthy on the inside and the outside is a huge part of being able to meet the demands of entrepreneurship when its coupled with a family or private life.

It doesn’t matter how you look at this.

You can have the best business in the world, plenty of money in the bank but if you don’t have your health and you’re not happy then quite frankly it’s all wasted on you.

Your physical and mental health is priceless and a great friend of mine always quotes, “health is wealth”, and he’s spot on.

Likewise, your general state of wellness and happiness has a huge bearing on your quality of life. You can’t or shouldn’t spend the rest of your life doing a job or running a business that fills your wallet but empties your soul.

What does being healthy on the inside and the outside mean to me?

Feeling good

Feeling motivated

Clarity of thought

Happiness

A spring in the step

A smile on my face

Energetic

Readiness to face all challenges and seize any opportunities

How do I make sure I tick all of those boxes? Let me explain what works for me.

One of the secrets that I know has had great results with me regarding my health and wellbeing has been the instilling and following of good, positive routines which allows me to be healthy on the inside and out.

When my life is good, and I am at my best. I’m in a certain groove and following a good, positive routine.

When life is bad, when I feel overwhelmed or down, when I lack energy and clarity you can guarantee I’m not in that grove and something has slipped, or I’m in a bad daily routine.

Routines make things work and keep people alive!!

Do what works for you – There is no right or wrong

For those who don’t know, I spent nearly 8 years in the Armed Forces in the UK, and this is why the Armed Forces and the Royal Navy in my case run everything by routine. People laugh at me when I say my time in the Forces was like being in prison but without the loss of liberty. That’s because everything, even minutia is run by routine. Obviously, this is so that everyone knows, where everyone should be and what they should be doing and who they should be doing it with at every point during any given day. You know when to eat, when to exercise, when to work, when to play, you know everything, every day. Same as prison, when to sleep, when to wake, when to wash, when to eat, when to exercise, when to get yard time, when to go back in, when to return to your cell and so it goes on. It avoids chaos reigning.

One of my old Charge Chief’s on HMS Gloucester used to spout, “fit in body, fit in mind” all the time and he was renowned for his health and especially his fitness. He had run the Field Gun in the Royal Tournament the maximum allowed 3 times. This is an event where a team of men are responsible for getting a cannon, which weighs in excess of 1.2 tonnes, across a course by taking it apart and putting it back together at the other side of an imaginary ravine and firing it, before doing it all again in reverse to the finish line!

Trust me, it’s as crazy as it sounds.

He sometimes trained 3 times a day and was one of the fittest guys I have ever met.

He had lost the index finger of his left hand, it was an ugly, gnarly stump that was left and I asked him about it. When he was running the gun, he was a wheel man. This meant that he was responsible for taking the huge wheel on the cannon off, carrying it and then putting it back on when required through the race.

The wheel is held in place by a metal split pin which you pull out or shove in dependant on what you are trying to do.

On his first ever tournament, in front of the Queen they were mid run and he lost the pin, he dropped it in the sand that covers the floor. Without the pin, the wheel would fall off and his team would lose, and it would be on him.

So, he put his finger in the hole and kept going.

The gun and wheel took his finger clean off but that wasn’t the end of it.

He had to carry on to the finish line by taking his own finger in and out of that hole another twice before they crossed the line. That was the type of team player he was. I urge you to google “Royal Navy Field Gun Race” and check out one of the YouTube clips. When you see them flying across with those wheels, picture him carrying his finger as well!!

What his fitness brought him was a boundless energy and a clarity of thought and action that made him a joy to be around and a great leader to boot. In difficult times when sleep was deprived in certain dangerous circumstances, he was the one that would see us through with his energy and actions.

You have to be really conscious and intentional because in my experience, it’s much, much easier to fall into bad routines than it is to follow good ones.

It’s funny how the brain works that way.

I want to put a disclaimer in here before I go on. First, I am not advocating that you follow what I do, I am simply telling you what works for me. If it works for you too, that’s superb. If not, find something that works for you.

Take some time and think about what you were doing when you felt on top form.

When are you at your best?

When you’ve established those answers and you can recall being at the peak of your performance and copy that.

Second, I am no fitness guru either. I am 18 stones, horizontally challenged and under tall for my weight. I should be about 8 foot 6. Putting it in lay man terms, I am a fat bloke that likes to keep relatively active and fit.

I find nothing worse than people harping on about what you should and shouldn’t eat or drink. I was once in a community of entrepreneurs where the leader or self-appointed guru used to ridicule and belittle people for enjoying alcohol, eating meat, or having any sugar in their diet!! My thought was. . . get a life! I didn’t stay long in that group.

Eat what works for you and be happy with your choices. If you eat like a pig and are as fat as a pig be happy with your choices, accept the consequences, don’t moan because you are carrying a few pounds. Likewise, if you eat a diet of lettuce and dust, have the body/fat composition of a beanpole, be happy with your choices, don’t preach at others and complain that you can’t put on weight and muscle. Each to their own and celebrate we are all different.

You won’t get any diet or exercise advice from me, unless you ask for it.

Again, I will outline what works for me.

I am no dietician, I’m not an Olympic athlete or a Personal Trainer.

I love a glass of wine and a take away and occasionally I have athletes’ foot!!, I guess that makes me normal then.

Lastly, I was totally not a morning person and I will talk more on this later.

I was always missing the school bus; I was last up in the ten to eight club my Navy days and I was always last up in the house.

I changed my routine because I knew that it wasn’t serving me, and I wanted to make the change.

Now if you want to stay in bed until 10am and work until 3am every day, that’s cool by me. Likewise, if you are up at 4am and in bed by 9pm, good on you also. Be happy with your choices and to repeat – DO WHAT WORKS FOR YOU – THERE IS NO RIGHT OR WRONG.

One of the most sure-fire ways to not be healthy on the inside and the out is to start comparing yourself to others. You should compare yourself to who you were yesterday not to who someone else is today.

When I started looking at myself and making a conscious effort to be healthy on the inside and the outside, I quickly became more self-aware and was able to understand what worked for me.

One of the first things I stopped doing was watching, listening or reading the News. As a household we had breakfast news on from 6.30am, lunch was taken with the 1pm news and then evening meal was around the 6pm news swiftly followed by the 10pm news. Overload on negativity or what!!!

The amount of places I go and see that they have 24 hour news channels on in reception and all around the offices – that’s a big no no for me.

There is a reason why the last 1 minute of the news starts with, “and finally” and is a light hearted story otherwise we would all be leaving feeling pretty low about our lives and the world we live in.

I can promise you, if it’s important and it affects you, the news you need will find you quickly enough.

It’s toxic, do yourself a favour and don’t let it in!

It was then I realised that everything stems around exercise for me. It was that simple.

I noticed that if I did something like hitting the gym, walking, running, biking, swimming, then everything else aligned. I firstly felt better. I had more energy. I looked better, my complexion and skin were good, and I had a healthy glow about me. I was sharper in work and could sustain my concentration for longer periods. I ate better so that I watched what I ate and didn’t want to sabotage my efforts by eating crap. If I did go out for a meal or get a family take away, again I didn’t stress, I had earned it. Family life was better, I had more energy after work to devote to the family. I didn’t drink and because of that I slept better and deeper when I did get to my bed.

What was quickly apparent was the reverse of that when I had sustained periods of inactivity. When I don’t hit the gym, I feel lethargic, I struggle to get up in the morning. I think, who cares, let’s have a fry up or junk food because it’s the way I’m feeling – lazy. As soon as I’m home, I’m crashing on the sofa, watching sport or Netflix and getting stuck into a bottle of red wine and reach for the Diary Milk. That gives me heart burn and it means I don’t sleep well, and the cycle repeats itself. During these times my energy in work is poor, I am unable to concentrate for sustained periods and I generally feel crap. That horrible, “I can’t be bothered” attitude creeps into everything and everywhere. From work to home. Family life would suffer, I was impatient and short with the kids and would be sensitive and bicker with my wife. Does any of this resonate with you??

It’s funny though how sliding into the negative routine was so much easier and far more appealing than the positive routine!

Why is that?

Why are bad habits so easy to form and good one’s so hard?

Inevitably it’s because bad ones are simple and require very little thought or discipline and more than that most of the population are doing them on autopilot which makes it even harder to break years of conditioning and swimming against the tide of humanity.

When you look around you and analyse yourself, think of all your friends and family that follow a negative routine. Most follow it but have no idea or no thoughts of a different routine. There’s a total lack of self-awareness that it can change. Many of those around us are on auto pilot and live the negative routine I have just described.

My sister, Lisa, had issues with mental health and she will be the first to admit that she got into a cycle of negativity.

She spent her evenings watching things like the News and the UK Soaps like Eastenders and Coronation Street that are filled with negativity and depressing subjects. It fed a cycle of downward emotional energy that led to inactivity and poor diet which then surfaced in her mental health.

How did she break that cycle?

Firstly, through self-awareness and working out what wasn’t serving her.

She quickly realised that she had a great life and outside influences were forcing her to believe she had a bad one.

She quit the soaps and the news

She hit the gym

She took a personal trainer and as a worker in the NHS in the UK, she’s hardly on a king’s ransom as a salary!!

She decided to spend money on the right things and not the wrong things

Almost immediately she saw a difference.

Her mindset and mental health shifted.

She had more energy and her old smile came back.

Things that used to affect her or make her down could now be brushed off.

She was in control again.

Last year we ran the Cardiff Half Marathon together and she ran for the UK Charity MIND which is helping people with mental health issues and I was so proud to be there with her.

Next month I’ll continue with this article based on being healthy on the inside and out. I’ll tell you what works for me and about my routine. I’ll talk into some of the advice my father gave me and how I keep motivated with crazy challenges. I talk about that “To Do” list and how it isn’t helping you.

To be continued. . .

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whatsonforperth · 6 years

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Not the apple of his eye: Steve Jobs' daughter recalls a complicated man

Lisa Brennan-Jobs today. Some of her fathers more disturbing behaviours were, she insists, just awkward. Photo: Frances F. Denny/The New York Times Normal text sizeLarger text sizeVery large text size When Apple co-founder Steve Jobs told his daughter Lisa Brennan-Jobs that the Apple Lisa computer was not named after her, it was not a cruel lie to a little girl, she insists he was teaching her "not to ride on his coat-tails". When Jobs refused to install heat in her bedroom, he was not being callous, she says he was instilling in her a "value system". When a dying Jobs told Brennan-Jobs that she smelled "like a toilet", it was not a hateful snipe, she maintains he was merely showing her "honesty". It's a strange thing to write a devastating memoir with damning details but demand that these things are not, in fact, damning at all. Yet that's exactly what Brennan-Jobs has done in a new memoir, Small Fry. Thanks to a dozen other biographies and films, Apple obsessives already know the broad outlines of Brennan-Jobs' early life: Jobs fathered her at 23, then denied paternity despite a DNA match, and gave little in financial or emotional support even as he became a god of the early computing era. Small Fry is Brennan-Jobs' effort to reclaim her story for herself. The backdrop to her raw depictions of life with and without Jobs is 1980s Silicon Valley, where artists and hippies mixed with technologists, ideas of how to build the future flourished, and a cascade of trillions of dollars was just beginning to crash onto the landscape. Brennan-Jobs navigated a childhood on welfare with her mother, artist Chrisann Brennan, and an adolescence ensconced in her father's wealth. In passage after passage of Small Fry, Jobs is vicious to his daughter and those around her. Now, in the days before the book is released, Brennan-Jobs is fearful that it will be received as a tell-all expos, and not the more nuanced portrait of a family that she intended. She worries that the reaction will be about a famous man's legacy rather than a young woman's story that she will be erased again, this time in her own memoir. On the eve of publication, what Brennan-Jobs wants readers to know is this: Steve Jobs rejected his daughter for years, but that daughter has absolved him. Triumphantly, she loves him, and she wants the book's scenes of their roller skating and laughing together to be as viral as the scenes of him telling her she will inherit nothing. Brennan-Jobs' forgiveness is one thing. What's tricky is that she wants the reader to forgive Jobs, too. And she knows that could be a problem. "Have I failed?" she asks. "Have I failed in fully representing the dearness and the pleasure? The dearness of my father, and the outrageous pleasure of being with him when he was in good form?" Advertisement

Lisa with Steve in 1987 at her mum Chrisann Brennans house. Photo: Courtesy of Lisa Brennan-Jobs After university, Brennan-Jobs left the United States to work in finance in London and Italy; she later shifted into design, and then freelance writing for magazines and literary journals. Now 40, she has long avoided publicity. She has never been profiled, and she has carefully eluded most of her father's chroniclers. (One exception: screenwriter/director Aaron Sorkin, who called her "the heroine" of his 2015 Steve Jobs biopic.) Brennan-Jobs says she did not trust Walter Isaacson, who wrote the definitive, mega-selling biography of her father in 2011. "I never spoke with Walter, and I never read the book, but I know I came off as cold to my father and not caring whether he felt bad," Brennan-Jobs says, sitting in Cantine, a vegan-friendly cafe in Brooklyn's Carroll Gardens neighbourhood. "I was devastated by it. "I felt ashamed to be the bad part of a great story," she continues. "And I felt unresolved." And so in Small Fry, she seeks to resolve some of that shame by describing how her childhood unfolded, who key characters were, why it all happened. Brennan-Jobs went back to Silicon Valley and interviewed her family, her friends, her mother's ex-boyfriends, and her father's ex-girlfriend. In her childhood, the region had been green with eucalyptus and full of garage hackers. Now it is the greatest wealth-creation machine in the history of the world, and Jobs remains its towering hero. Brennan-Jobs began work on what would become Small Fry not long after her father's 2011 death. Years into writing, she felt rushed by her publisher, Penguin Press, and feared being "tarted up" and made to take advantage of her father's legacy. She wanted to be with a smaller publisher who would work with her and give her more time, and switched to Grove, taking what she says was a 90 per cent cut in her advance. (A spokesperson for Penguin declined to comment.) One result of the delay is that Small Fry is entering the public conversation at a time when, across industries, formerly disempowered or ignored women are having their say about powerful men. A memoir by Steve Jobs' first-born was always going to be a publishing sensation, but Brennan-Jobs has inadvertently timed hers to land when the public is even more attuned to marginalised voices and when many are having darker thoughts about the world Jobs created with his attention-devouring devices.

Lisa, 3, with her mum Chrisann,who she calls a mercurial, hot-tempered free spirit. Photo: Courtesy of Lisa Brennan-Jobs Advertisement None of that, of course, was imaginable when Brennan-Jobs was born on May 17, 1978, on a commune farm in Oregon. Her parents, who had met in high school in Cupertino, California, were both 23. Jobs arrived days after the birth and helped name her, but refused to acknowledge that he was the father. To support her family, Chrisann Brennan cleaned houses and used government assistance. Only after the government sued Jobs did he agree to pay child support. Small Fry describes how Jobs slowly took a greater interest in his daughter, taking her skating and coming over to her house for visits. Brennan-Jobs moved in with him for a time during high school, when her mother was struggling with money and her temper, but Jobs was cold and had extreme demands for what being a member of the family entailed. The neighbours next door worried about the teenage Lisa, and one night, when Jobs was out, they moved her from his house and into theirs. Against Jobs' wishes, the neighbours paid for her to finish college. (He later paid them back.) Brennan-Jobs speaks today of "not wanting to alienate people" she loves, but acknowledges that her memoir might do just that. Aside from Jobs, all the central characters are very much alive. "I hope Thanksgiving's okay," she says. Her mother is portrayed as a free spirit who nurtured her daughter's creativity, but could be mercurial, hot-tempered and sometimes neglectful. "It was horrendous for me to read," Brennan says. "It was very, very hard. But she got it right." Jobs' infamous venom is on frequent display in Small Fry. Out one night at dinner, Jobs turns to his daughter's cousin, Sarah, who has just unknowingly offended him by ordering meat. "'Have you ever thought about how awful your voice is?" Jobs asks Sarah. "Please stop talking in that awful voice." He adds, "You should really consider what's wrong with yourself and try to fix it." Brennan-Jobs describes her father's frequent use of money to confuse or frighten her. "Sometimes he decided not to pay for things at the very last minute," she writes, "walking out of restaurants without paying the bill." When her mother found a beautiful house and asked Jobs to buy it for her and Lisa, he agreed it was nice but bought it for himself and moved in with his wife, Laurene Powell Jobs. Advertisement

With Chrisann in the early 1990s. Photo: Courtesy of Lisa Brennan-Jobs Brennan says her daughter has, if anything, underplayed the chaos of her childhood. "She didn't go into how bad it really was, if you can believe that," she says. But Small Fry also contains moments of joy that capture Jobs' spontaneity and unparalleled mind. When Brennan-Jobs goes on a school trip to Japan, he arrives unannounced and pulls her out of the program for a day. Father and daughter sit, talking about God and how he sees consciousness. "I was afraid of him and, at the same time, I felt a quaking, electric love," she writes. "When I started writing," Brennan-Jobs tells me, "I didn't think he'd be so interesting on the page, and I was almost frustrated that he pulled so much gravity." After Brennan-Jobs moved in with Jobs as a teenager, he forbade her from seeing her mother for six months, as a way to cement her connection to his new family. At the same time, Jobs shifted from neglectful to controlling. When Brennan-Jobs was getting increasingly involved at her high school, starting an opera club and running for freshman-class president, he got upset. "This isn't working out. You're not succeeding as a member of this family," Jobs says in the memoir. "You're never around. If you want to be a part of this family, you need to put in the time." To appease her father, Brennan-Jobs transferred to another school that was closer to her father's house. She persisted in becoming editor-in-chief of the school newspaper. Her mentor there, a journalism teacher named Esther Wojcicki, says Small Fry is a faithful account. "The dialogue that she had in there between her and Steve was just exactly right," Wojcicki says. "The book is a gift to all of us." Early copies of the memoir have circulated among family and friends. Powell Jobs, her children and Jobs' sister, Mona Simpson, give this statement: "Lisa is part of our family, so it was with sadness that we read her book, which differs dramatically from our memories of those times. The portrayal of Steve is not the husband and father we knew. Steve loved Lisa, and he regretted that he was not the father he should have been during her early childhood. It was a great comfort to Steve to have Lisa home with all of us during the last days of his life, and we are all grateful for the years we spent together as a family." Advertisement

Lisa today: Turn the awful package on its head, and it reveals something kind of glorious, she says. Photo: Frances F. Denny/The New York Times On a hot August day in Brooklyn, Brennan-Jobs and I walk to her studio, a small apartment with brick walls she painted white and a bamboo floor she painted black. While writing Small Fry, she tells me, she covered the mirrors around her work space with paper. "I don't like catching myself in the mirror," she says, "because it's like 'Oh, self.'" Brennan-Jobs says she's nervous about how she'll be described physically in a profile, so I ask her to use her own words. "My face is uneven," she says. "I have small eyes. I wish I had dimples, but I don't. I think right now I look jowly." I interject to say she has delicate features, and freckles, and is about five foot two, with slightly reddish brown hair. "My nose," Brennan-Jobs replies, "is not particularly delicate." She is deeply self-deprecating, saying she's horrified to be doing "a celebrity memoir". She says she's sure The New Yorker will not review the book, and that years ago, her first meeting at her publisher Grove only occurred because Elisabeth Schmitz, the editorial director, was doing a favour for a mutual friend. "My first thought on being pitched the book was, 'I don't do this kind of thing. I don't know how to publish a celebrity memoir,' " says Schmitz, who has acquired literary memoirs like naturalist Helen Macdonald's H Is for Hawk. But something about Brennan-Jobs' writing made her reconsider. "From the first page," she says, "her language is fresh, surprising, unpredictable." I've read it, and her writing really is compelling. Brennan-Jobs takes the same linguistic knife to herself as she does to others. She writes with disgust about using anecdotes from her childhood to elicit sympathy from others, and she is ashamed to have dropped her father's name during an interview to get into Harvard. On August 1, Vanity Fair published an excerpt from Small Fry under the digital headline "I Have a Secret. My Father Is Steve Jobs". A few nights later, Brennan-Jobs called me, worried. She hated the title, and on social media, readers were feasting on the more savage details of her account, especially the "toilet" comment. "He was telling me the truth," Brennan-Jobs tells me, adding that the rosewater perfume she wore had turned. "I wasn't aware of it. Sometimes it's nice of someone to tell you what you smell like." Advertisement It was another uncomfortable reminder that even though Small Fry is Brennan-Jobs' story, one written in a precise, literary style, her father's myth looms so large that she cannot control how her words are received. When choosing a narrator for the audio version, she nixed the ones who spoke his lines too harshly or without humour. So much of Brennan-Jobs' effort with the memoir seems to be to show how brutal Steve Jobs could be and, in doing so, to reclaim that brutality for herself. And how she wants to reclaim it is to love it. "You get your inheritance, delivered in a lump of coal or whatever in a sort of awful package," she tells me at one point. "And you have to take a lot of time to turn the awful package on its head, and it reveals something kind of glorious, and then you're set free."

Steve, who could be fun as well as cruel, with Lisa in the early 1980s. Photo: Courtesy of Lisa Brennan-Jobs If Brennan-Jobs is alarmed by the reaction to the toilet-water excerpt, she may be unprepared for what happens when readers encounter more disturbing material. Several times in Small Fry, Jobs engages in what seems like inappropriate affection in front of his daughter. Brennan-Jobs describes him embracing Powell Jobs one day, "pulling her in to a kiss, moving his hand closer to her breasts," and up her thigh, "moaning theatrically". Brennan-Jobs tried to leave, her father stopped her: "'Hey Lis,' he said. 'Stay here. We're having a family moment. It's important that you try to be part of this family.' I sat still, looking away as he moaned and undulated." Brennan-Jobs emphasises in this interview that she never felt threatened by her father, and that to her, these scenes show he was "just awkward". This kind of display was not an isolated incident, says Brennan-Jobs' mother, who described an upsetting, sexualised conversation between Jobs and their daughter in her 2013 memoir, A Bite in the Apple. One evening, Brennan writes, she let Jobs babysit nine-year-old Lisa. When Brennan came home early, she found Jobs with the girl, "teasing her nonstop about her sexual aspirations", "ridiculing her with sexual innuendos" and "joking about bedroom antics between Lisa and this or that guy". Brennan, in her memoir, describes feeling scared for her daughter that night, and wanting to place her body between them and get out of there. "I will be clear," Brennan writes. "Steve was not a sexual predator of children. There was something else going on." Still, after that night, Brennan tells me she tried to make sure there was "a chaperone" when Jobs was with his young daughter for long hours. "He was so inappropriate because he didn't know how to do better," Brennan says. In her book, she characterises Jobs as "on a slide whistle between human and inhuman". One afternoon in August, as Brennan-Jobs and I talk in her kitchen, she makes a juice of dandelion greens, pineapple, turmeric and ginger roots. She eats an extremely healthy diet and knows it mirrors her father's, which veered into esoteric California wellness trends, even as pancreatic cancer took over more of his body. Brennan-Jobs has a husband, Bill, a longtime Microsoft employee now launching a software start-up. He has two daughters, aged 10 and 12, and he and Brennan-Jobs have a four-month-old son. As she drinks her juice, Bill is nearby with the children, and there's an easygoing energy in the house. "I see my husband and the way he is with his daughters, responsive and alive and sensitive in ways my father would have liked to be," Brennan-Jobs says. "My father would have loved to be a man like that, and he surrounded himself with men like that, but he couldn't be." Decades after his child-support lawsuit, Jobs erased his paternity again. Small Fry notes that on his corporate bio on the Apple website, the detail-obsessed chief executive was listed as having three children. But, of course, he had four.

Steve Jobs in 1984. Photo: Alamy The most public torchbearer for Jobs' character and legacy is Powell Jobs. With an inherited fortune of some $US21 billion ($28.6 billion), she has engaged in philanthropy and launched the Emerson Collective, an organisation that pursues liberal political activism and for-profit investments, and owns a majority stake in The Atlantic magazine. Powell Jobs plays a somewhat "tonic note" in Small Fry, Brennan-Jobs says. Her stepmother brings her into family photos, for example, but many of the descriptions of Powell Jobs are biting. Brennan-Jobs tells me she gave Powell Jobs "the best line" in the book. It appears in a scene where Powell Jobs and Jobs go to a therapy session with a teenage Lisa. Brennan-Jobs cries and says she feels lonely and has wanted them to say good night to her. Powell Jobs responds to the therapist: "We're just cold people." Toward the end of Jobs' life, he finally apologised to his daughter. Brennan-Jobs calls it her "movie ending". In the book, she writes that Jobs says he is sorry he did not spend more time with her, and for disappearing during her adulthood, forgetting birthdays and not returning notes or calls. In reply, Brennan-Jobs says she knows he was busy. Jobs answers that he acted the way he did because she had offended him. "It wasn't because I was busy. It was because I was mad you didn't invite me to the Harvard weekend," he says in the book, referring to a matriculation event. He also cries and tells her over and over again, "I owe you one" a famously articulate communicator unable to summon the basic language of contrition. Brennan-Jobs may be experiencing a kind of author's remorse as her book makes its way toward store shelves. But details as lethal as these they sink into Jobs' legend like daggers to the hilt are more proof than any DNA test that she is her father's daughter. Ultimately, Jobs left his daughter an inheritance in the millions, the same amount as his other children, and she is not involved in the allocation of his financial legacy. If she was in charge of his billions, she says, she would give it away to the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation a curious twist given her father's epic rivalry with Apple's arch-nemesis. "Would it be too perverse?" she asks. "I feel like the Gates Foundation is really doing good stuff, and I think I would just hot-potato it away." Brennan-Jobs says she wrote Small Fry in part to figure out why he withheld money from her even as his wealth ballooned, and as he spent it more freely on the children he had with Powell Jobs. She says she now sees it was about teaching her that money can corrupt. The ethos "felt true and kind of beautiful and kind of enlightened for somebody like that". The question was "why he would have taken that value system and applied it so severely to me". "You can have a value system and be unable to totally live it," she adds. "And you can imagine being that rich and famous and how amazing it is if you can hold on to some of your value system. He didn't do it right. He didn't apply it evenly. But I feel grateful for it." Brennan-Jobs tells me she likes toying with the strange power of being a memoirist writing about trauma because the reader knows she made it out okay. She is here in the privileged position of writing this book, after all. And as a memoirist, even a reluctant one, she gets the final word. One night toward the end of Jobs' life and the end of the book he is watching Law and Order in bed. "'Are you going to write about me?'" he asks Lisa. She tells him no. "'Good,' he says, and turns back to the television." Small Fry by Lisa Brennan-Jobs (Grove Press, $30) is out on September 12. Edited version of a story first published in The New York Times. 2018 The New York Times. To read more from Good Weekend magazine, visit our page at The Sydney Morning Herald or The Age. https://www.watoday.com.au/technology/not-the-apple-of-his-eye-steve-jobs-daughter-recalls-a-complicated-man-20180903-p501gj.html?ref=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_source=rss_feed

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