#I swear I am not as sad as I sound in my proses

[a-dreamersjournal]

Will I finally write myself Happy?

I've been trying to write something for a while now. But the pages remain empty and nothing's coming out. No ink from my pen, no blood from my fingertips, no cliches from my heart. But, as unfortunate as it might be, I can feel my breath against the window glass.

Like an unwelcome guest, one you cannot do anything about. It's not like I want to die right now. But, how can I breathe in and out when words are refusing to leave my lungs? I like words more than I like air.

I need words more than I need Air.

And I know it's not romantic, But Tragic. And it scares me sometimes too. I can Imagine it so vividly, death on my doorsteps. And maybe, just maybe It will ask what my last wish is only for me to answer without any hesitation;

"Let me write once again. One last prose in exchange for my last breath."

And maybe that's when I'll finally write myself Happy?

Oh God, will I finally write myself Happy?

[yuukimiyas]

nov. 13th 2023

₊˚ෆ 350 words / not beta read! / in no way, shape or form formatted correctly! / many punctuation mistakes! / i swear ik how to format normally!!

ᕱ ⑅ ᕱ a/n: hello all!! ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა this came to me while i was talkin to my psychiatrist the other wk & it just wouldn't leave my mind!! ໒꒰ྀི ∩ ⸝⸝ ∩ ꒱ྀིა this is v self indulgent & v personal & i was originally gonna keep it to myself but i thought that maybe someone out there could resonate, even if it's a lil bit <33 so here's a lil poetry/prose moment :3

i am kind to the world because the world has not always been kind to me.

for i have begged for places at tables only to learn i never had solace there to begin with — assuming that my worth was equivalent to the scraps that litter the floor. i have foolishly taken the hand of societies predisposed values — blindly agreeing that being rigid is the only means of protection. i have been preached about taking my time then chastised for not keeping up — choking on the fabricated realization that the only place i’ll ever meet the requirements for is the last one. i have been told to appreciate the wonders of the world we live in — then swiftly reminded to only admire the beauty from afar for it’s fleeting and i’ve yet to prove my worth

i have been conditioned to believe i am a lot of things. but, i am not the masses.

i am so much more.

i am so sickeningly sweet that i give cavities a run for their money, i am so brilliantly luminous that even the sun itself seeps envy, i am so abundant with love and adoration that my body can’t help but burst at the seams to share it all.

and with that,

i will always leave an open seat at my table — a warm meal and good conversation at the ready for all who need to rest. i will always extend my hand with only the purest of intent — displaying proudly that soft and strong do not have to be autonomous to live in harmony with one another. i will always take time while it’s still ripe for the taking — it’s monetary value far outweighing that of a solid gold medal. i will continue to gaze at the world with fondness — the blinding beauty of it all synonymous with the delicate flame that burns deep within and glows outward.

but most important of all, out of everything i am, i was, and will eventually blossom to be.

i am kind to the world because the world has not always been kind

to me.

- c

๋࣭ ⭑ yuukimiyas © '23 / please do not copy/repost/translate anywhere! / all dividers by @benkeibear

[paradiselostbythedashboardlight]

Quarantine, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Wrote 430,943 Words of Prose in a Year

As we are coming up terrifyingly fast on a full year of quarantine with no end to the pandemic yet in sight for most people, I’ve been taking some time to reflect on the last year of my existence in a state that most people now refer to as quarantine. Since March of 2020, I, like most other sane people in my country, have stopped traveling, going to stores, seeing all but a limited group of other humans, and begun having recurring nightmares about being in crowds without a piece of cloth over my nose and mouth.

Suffice to say, it has been a bit stressful.

The other thing that I have done since COVID-19 began rapidly spreading across the globe last year is write over 430,943 words of fiction. 

The number seems insane to me still. That is (approximately) one Gone With The Wind, one entire Lord of the Rings series, or the first four Harry Potter books. That is still sadly not yet War and Peace (but who knows… the pandemic isn’t over yet).

So now that I am looking back, I find myself with one question: how did this happen? Why did I do this? What does this mean about my life this year?

Since apparently I answer best by writing a lot, let’s begin at the beginning. Let me tell you a story. I’ll keep it short, I swear.

Part 1: Blast From the Past

In March of 2020, I was still in the midst of an academic semester. There was a long academic document to write and a class to teach. However, as quarantine abruptly robbed me of most of my usual commitments, I was suddenly thrust into the position of having more time on my hands than I knew what to do with. Consequently, I decided to break out the Nintendo Switch I’d gotten for Christmas and revive a childhood interest in video games.

And boy did I. I played the games I owned for all they were worth. I played them during the evenings when I had no social engagements to attend. I played them during the Zoom meetings I was already struggling to pay attention to. By the end of March, I had finished one game, and it had set the wheels turning in my brain.

Here’s a fact about me: I don’t usually tend to write or read a lot of fanfiction about things that I consider really really good. Basically, fanfiction for me has always been an impulse born from incompletion or imperfection. I see no need to add to a perfect story (although I happily consume and create fanart). But for something enjoyable and yet slightly unsatisfying? That’s fanfic territory, bud.

So by April, I had developed a sort of epic fanfiction for this video game I was playing. It was one of those magnum opus kind of ideas, a grand retelling of the story with a huge sprawling plot and Themes (™). 

At first, it was merely a thought experiment that lived only in my head, a sort of entertainment to ponder in the hours before falling asleep. What changed? Well, a friend of mine decided to also write a fanfiction on the same video game and she kindly consented to let me read it.

Suddenly, I was ravenously hungry to read and to write and to share and to consume. I wrote a hundred thousand words of this fanfic in April and into early May, sending each chapter to my friend and being spurred onward by her kind comments. 

The fic became a gargantuan endeavor full of strange little challenges I set for myself. It was a canon-divergence, requiring plotting, worldbuilding, a darker and grimer tone. For some reason, I decided to write each chapter from a different character’s perspective, making the final product into a series of essentially short story character studies which together formed a plot.

By the end of May, the story was published for the world to see. It was well-received, although not particularly popular by fandom standards. And that was the end. I had gotten out my pandemic crazies, the semester was over and now I could move on. I had made my peace with the source material, plumbing all of the little details that I wanted to examine and creating a narrative that I found satisfying.

It was over.

Part 2: Summer Lovin?

Except that it wasn’t.

Confession: as I had been posting my giant fanfiction, I had also begun to explore the fan community itself, mostly curious to see some nice art and gather a bit of demographic info about what was popular within the community. As a result, I found a fanfic recommendations page. Among the recommendations was one author who kept popping up and i finally decided to give the fic a read.

Woah. It was good. Like, really good. Like, professional quality writing and themes that seemed designed to appeal to me. I devoured everything that the creator had posted in a week and then subscribed to eagerly wait for more.

As June rolled around, I realized that I had a problem on my hands. My great big gen masterpiece was finished, but this author had gotten me hooked on something else, something with a nefarious reputation online: shipping.

The term du jour for this seems to be “brain worms” so let’s just say that reading other fanworks had given me some brain worms. Inspired this time not just by the source material of the game, but now the fan community itself, my mind began to develop another idea.

I wrote the fic, about 11k, in a single afternoon of frantic writing. When I finished it, I knew it was one of my strongest pieces. It had just come together, a combination of all the thought that I’d been brewing up and a stylistic execution that just worked with the story I wanted to tell.

I posted it on a new account. Shipping seemed vaguely shameful to me still and my mom reads the other account.

To my surprise, the fic blew up. It got so much more attention than my long fic ever had. Even more significantly, a fan artist actually drew a gorgeous comic of the pivotal scene, completely out of the blue! I was essentially thunderstruck. Honestly, it was probably the first time in my life that I’d ever received so much positive reinforcement from a piece of writing.

While I’d written short stories for undergrad workshops, they’d never been particularly good and I’d never gotten particularly great feedback on them. I’d applied and been rejected by more MFAs and literary magazines than I could count. I’d pretty much resigned myself to writing for an audience of me and me alone (which I don’t mean to sound tragic about, writing for you is great and fun!)

But receiving so much support and praise and feeling like I’d made other people happy or sad or moved? There’s nothing better.

This makes my decision to write another fic for the ship sound vaguely cynical, the action of a person driven by an addiction to praise. I mean, no lie, aren’t we all a little addicted to approval?

But my next fic was another long one, an 80k passion project modern AU that I dreamed up while spending a slow summer alone with my books and only able to leave the house for long rambling walks in the woods. The premise was essentially about characters attending a five year college reunion, something that I myself had missed due to COVID in May of the same year. The fic quickly became a way for me to process thoughts on a lot of topics in my life ranging from relationships to politics to mental health to classical literature.

This fic was also received with far more attention than I was used to and, as a result, I finally joined the notorious Twitter dot com where I found people talking about my fic unprompted, eager to follow me and like my every random thought.

I can’t say that this process was not without its ups and downs. Fandom has changed, in many ways for the better, since my last engagement with it during the 2013 Supernatural days on Tumblr. While fan friendships are often idealized or demonized, they are pretty much like any other human friendship (okay, maybe a little bit more horny on main). There is potential for amazing connection as well as pettiness. But in a year where many people suddenly had no social spaces that were safe anymore, I’m glad that I found a new line of communication with the world.  

So I kept writing fics for the ship, producing a lot of work that I am genuinely proud of and making connections with other people who enjoyed it enough to leave a comment.

To conclude this section, I was in fandom again. While I had not seriously engaged with a fan community since around 2014, I was back with a vengeance. And I had discovered an important truth about what unlocked my ability to write more than I ever had before: community support.

Not simply the kudos and the views. It was the comments. The discourse. The discussion. To add and contribute my thoughts and ideas to a greater network of thoughts and ideas that fed off of one another.

Often I had seen people complain about there not being enough fanworks for particular media or characters. Now I knew the secret. The comments and the community created the works. If I commented on other people’s fics, the more likely they were to write more. I made a resolution I have tried to keep, to comment on any story that I legitimately enjoyed reading, even if I had no particularly intelligent thing to say about it.

Part 3: A Novel Idea

By late October, I had produced a considering oeuvre for my ship of choice and was enjoying slowing my pace as I planned a few future projects.

Remember, though, how I mentioned not having engaged with fandom for the past 5 years? Well, that didn’t mean I hadn’t been writing.

For the past 4 years, I have won NaNoWriMo and completed 4 novels of over 100k each in length. These projects have been massively fun and improved my confidence with executing stories at the scope that I desire.

And so in November 2020, I settled down to write another novel. November is always a sort of terrible time write a novel if you work in academia, but this year, I had more time than usual. I set out to write a comedy fantasy novel, something mostly lighthearted and full of hijinks in order to pretend away some of the quarantine blues (which by this point were well established in my psyche).

This year in particular, I was reminded that writing a novel is… harder than fanfic. That seems like a very obvious point, but I’d written novels before. Suddenly, though, I was realizing how much a novel requires you to set up the world and the characters, while fanfic can be pretty much all payoff all the time.

While the fanfic flowed in wild creative bursts of energy, the novel required diligence of another sort. I wrote 2,000 words every day for two months. It was a grind. Sometimes, it was a slog. 

And sometimes it just wasn't good. The thing about writing your own novels is that the first draft is way more likely to be not good. You’re balancing a lot and it’s easy to let a few balls that you have in the air drop for a chapter or two, with no recourse but to go back and edit later.

I finished the novel by writing a final speedrun of 6k on new years eve, ending my 2020 with another project under my belt. No one has read it. Not even I have reread it.

I’m still glad that I wrote it. I’ll write another one next year. No one will read that one either.

Sometimes, we write for ourselves and no external validation is necessary.

Part 4: Where are they now?

January of 2021 is somehow now behind me, which is terrifying. I’m still writing. Mostly fanfic, although occasionally I go doodle around with some original ideas that are more conceptual sketches for the next novel.

As for the fanfic, I think I still have a few more good ideas left in me, but  I will probably leave it behind before the year is out. That feels a little bittersweet, a sort of temporary burst of fun and friendship that I wonder if I’ll ever experience again.

Coming to the end of this reflection, I suppose I should make a summative statement about what it all means.

In the end, it might not mean a lot. There are some small takeaways. 

It turns out that encouragement makes you write more! Who knew? Also, more free time makes you write more! Wow!!!!

The point that I think this reflection exercise has shown me, the point that I think matters more than any other, is that writing is a way to process my thoughts. Even if it is through the lens of ridiculous video game fanfic or novels about sad wizards, my writing is my way to make sense of my own mind. 

And sharing that is special. If you share it with online strangers, with your family on Christmas Eve, with your close friend who has become even closer and dearer to you since she let you read her work, or just with your mom (the one personal legally required to read your damn novel if you want to share it). To share writing is to give someone a little peek at your beliefs about the world.

And right now? When we’re still isolated and bored and scared and in desperate need of distraction? Binge some TV, play Nintendo, read a book. Take in other people’s thoughts.

But put down your own somewhere as well. It’s a conversation.

And for once, it’s a conversation that doesn’t have to take place on fucking Zoom.

[oh-theatre]

Sycamore High: Mix and Match (Chapter 23)

A/N: I feel so bad for people who dont know something rotten they must feel so confused...im SORRY. Also yes I did write the entirety of lyrics from memory

summary: First rehearsal for Something Rotten!

words: 2,502

warnings: Swearing, funeral mention, lyrics, implied harassment (at the end, will find out more next chap)

Ao3 Link

“Welcome to the first official rehearsal for ‘Something Rotten’!” Chad announces to a loud cheer from the cast. Save except for a very quiet Ted sitting in the front row and a sad distant Tommy shoved in another row. Chad notices and feels a tug at his own heart, he shakes his head continuing. “I'd like to get started by doing a read through, so if everyone could gather on the stage” The crowd follows creating a circle on the stage, each student with a script in their hands. Chad counts before realizing something. “Ok, so we are going to have to sing acapella, because I may have forgotten to call in the pianist” He chuckles awkwardly, Bill ponders before raising his hand. Chad points at him prompting him to talk.

“I can play the piano,” He says, a tug pulls at Ted and Paul as they share a look. It's true, though not his main hobby, his mother did teach him. He stands and goes to the piano opening the sheet music and tickling the keys, something dances through him as it comes playing back to him. He nods at Chad, who smiles back.

“Alright! Let's begin!” Chad spins pointing to Caleb, another cast member who smiles excitedly “Take it away minstrel, Bill” Bill nods, turning to Caleb who studies his music quickly before giving a thumbs up. Chad starts swinging his fingers Bill begins playing the opening song.  

“War of the roses, Chaucer's tale. The brutal feudal system. Holy crusade, Bubonic plague. Can't say that we've really missed 'em. So dark and barbaric, So dull and mundane. That was so Middle Ages. That was so - Charlemagne” The group giggle excitedly as Caleb continues, Bill continues, hitting the note. The cast looks around excitedly as Caleb continues, everything washes away. “Welcome to the Renaissance. With poets, painters, and bon vivants and merry minstrels. Who stroll the streets of London a strummin' they lutes”

“In puffy pants and pointy leather boots!” The male ensemble continues, Chad smiles. It sounds great.

~~~

“Hit it, Bill!” Chad exclaims, and so Bill does hitting the keys ecstatically but carefully. Ted turns to Paul revving up.

“Ohhhhh God I hate Shakespeare!” The crowd cheers. Paul clutches his pearls offended. “That's right I said it”

“No!” The ensemble cries, Ted feels his heart flutter. Everything seems ok as the music plays and the bubbling energy bounces around the room. Everyones buzzing with excitement, happy to be here.

“I do, I hate Shakespeare”  He makes sure to sing that line at Sam who couldn't care less.

~~~

“I am stronger than you think, Don't be thinking I ain't tough I am where you oughta go. When the going's getting rough. So when things are going badly-” Charlotte belts happily, lovingly staring at Ted.

“But they're not” Ted insists, Charlotte bites down a giggle.

“They kinda are” Paul points out. Bill continues happily watching his friends.

“No, things are fine” Ted turns to Paul, who raises his eyebrows innocently.

“But if they weren't” Charlotte tries again, Ted and Paul smile widely.

“But it's ok”

“Love?”

“What?” Something catches Ted off guard at the name, he glances to Tommy feeling his face fall.

“Oh!”

“What?” He watches as Tommy bounces happily, watching the trio back and forth. His heart pounds in his ears he can't hear the music anymore.

“Quit trying to protect me” Charlotte's voice seeps through grounding Ted once more, he shakes his head delivering his line.

“Can we change the subject, please?” He didn't mean to beg so desperately, hopefully, they would just think he was getting into it.

“Not until I know that-”

~~~

“What the hell are musicals?” Ted asks feeling his voice get caught, Tommy can't meet his eyes and seems focused on his sheet music.

“It appears to be a play where the dialogue stops and the plot is conveyed through the song” Tommy says, his voice sweet with a hint of insane. Ted chuckles to himself, he's been practicing.

“Through song?”

“Yes” The group laughs and Ted does too, he's doing exceptionally well.

“Wait, wait, wait, so an actor is saying his lines and then out of nowhere he just starts singing?” Ted recites, he likes this monologue.

“Yes,” Tommy repeats, his grin his wider now. It feels like it's just the two, practicing as if no one was there. Ted looks to Bill nodding, he turns and prepares.

“Well that is the-” He starts singing “Stupidest thing that I have ever heard You're doing a play, got something to say so you sing it? It's absurd! Who on Earth is going to sit there while an actor breaks into song? What possible thought could the audience think other than "this is horribly wrong?" Bill hangs on the note as Tommy smiles wide.

“Remarkably?” He asks “They won't think that!” Ted can practically feel the room buzzing with excitement.

“Seriously, why not?” Ted asks back, Tommy can't hold it in, he flashes his most insane smile.

“Because…” He looks to Bill, they smile at each other “It's. A. Musical! A musical!” Everyone lets out small cheers as the song begins. “And nothings as amazing as a musical” Well, I can think of one or two things that are, Ted thinks as he watches Tommy enchant the entire class. Tommy continues with Ted and for a moment it's as if nothing is wrong.

~~~

“Paul and Emma, ready?” Chad asks, Bill flips to the song nodding at the group. Paul takes a deep breath as Emma just giggles smiling at him.

“Ready as I’ll ever be” She announces, Chad points at Bill who begins playing softly. “I love Sidney and Marlowe and often I borrow their words to express how I feel. I love poems of mystery, fantasy, history, Oh, what seductive appeal. At night, alone in my bedroom satisfying my needs. The candlelight fire ignites my desire...to read” Emma sings sending thrilling chills down Pauls back, he might miss his cue from listening to her enchanting voice. It's suddenly his turn after he misses three verses tuning out the actual words.

“It's the end-all, the be-all, oh, you oughta see all the books that I have on my shelf” He sings softly, a little nervous. Ted and Bill nod encouragingly.

“Me too!” She exclaims “I find pleasure perusing those writings and musings, so often I pleasure myself” She pauses giving off an awkward smile, the crowd laughs “Wait, that didn't sound right”

“No, I know what you mean” Paul goes again, a little more confident “When I'm deep in the throes of impassionate prose I could scream”

“You scream?”

“Yeah!”

“So do I!!” And so she did scream, much to everyone's delight

~~~

“Sam, boys, you ready,” Chad asks excitedly going through his notes. Sam practically bounces a childlike grin wide across his face. Charlotte giggles and Emma can't help but smile, he looks genuinely excited. “Go Bill!” And he does almost less excited. Sam stands, followed by his 4 boys already.

“My days are so busy, it's making me dizzy, there's so much I gotta do. There are lunches and meetings and poetry readings and endless interviews. Gotta pose for a portrait and how I deplore sittin' there for eternity. Then it's off to the inn where my innkeeper friend wants to name a drink after me! Then it's back to my room, where I resume my attempt to write a hit. Just me and my beer and the terrible fear that I might be losing it” He sings drunkenly, the groups nod along enjoying this. He's got the voice down. The boys jump around him singing their lines.  “And it's hard”

“It's hard” They point at Sam playing around, it's a whole routine.

“It's hard”

“It's hard” They go again, struggling to keep a straight face. The whole song is pure fun.

“It's really, really hard, so very, very hard” They sing in unison

~~~

“Welcome to America!”

“Land of opportunity!” Ted finishes strong smiling. The room erupts into cheers with everyone hugging everyone, at one point Ted feels himself wraps his arms around Tommy pulling away quickly. They stare awkwardly giving each other sweet longing smiles before each is pulled off into a respective group. Bill stands to join his friends congratulating them. They pull him into a hug. “Bill! You were amazing! Seriously, singing and piano wise!”

“Oh! Well, thank you” He nods blushing slightly. Chad comes over clapping him on the back. Bill lurches forward making an ‘umph’ sound.

“Bill that was wonderful!” He compliments “You are truly gifted” Now Bill is blushing harder than ever. Ted smiles, pride is not the words he's looking for. Bill leans in a little to Ted who laughs wrapping an arm around his small friend, understanding what he needs. He continues the conversation politely before leading Bill away from the crowd and setting up right outside the doors. “Thank you” Bill mumbles as they sit down on the cool floor, a change from the sauna that is the auditorium. They lean against the wall, Bill collapses onto Ted's shoulder, his eyes heavy.

“Of course,” Ted says nudging his friend, Bill yawns flexing his hands. They're cramping after such a massive play, he feels the ivories phantom and urges to keep playing. “You really did do amazing Bill” Ted compliments playing with his fingers, Bill chuckles nodding. A comfortable silence falls between them, Bill can't seem to relax his hands so Ted takes them applying soft pressure. It feels nice, Bill sighs relieved. He looks up a bit to Ted seeing him stare far off as if playing with Bills fingers is the only thing keeping him from drifting off, becoming particles of sand left in the wind for all of eternity.

“Would you like to discuss it?” Bill inquires softly, Ted's eyes merely gaze over to him. “You and Tommy, I mean” He clarifies, wanting to be there for his friend as he had so desperately failed in the past few months.

“Hmm?” Ted hums, he shakes his head a sad smirk appearing on his face “Not unless you want to talk about whatever's going on with you” Ted says, he's sure the subject will be dropped, that he has ‘won’, perse.

“Ok,” Bill says sitting up, Ted's face falls and so do his hands, losing contact with Bills. He giggles softly before continuing “I dont know whats going, or what was going on with me. I treated you unfairly and was somebody that I was not. I let my emotions get the best of me, the fight with Billy…” He eyes Ted, his tone becoming softer “And at the funeral” He barely whispers. Ted nods processing the words his small friend speaks.

“I miss my mom, and my dad...apparently kill-” He chokes suddenly, Bill squeezes his hand, no pressure...take your time. “And I made a mistake, I took it out on Tommy,” He sighs rubbing the bridge of his nose “But he doesn't deserve me! He deserves someone better, someone whos not…” He grunts pressing his lips together tightly, irritated “Me...someone whos not me” Ted finishes, Bill takes a deep breath.

“You're right,” Bill says, Ted's eyes go wide, oh? “He doesn't deserve you, in my opinion, nobody does Ted. Nobody is good enough for you” He says, Ted feels his heart pull “I've always thought that you're my best friend how could I not?” Ted chuckles lightly “But I have never seen you happier than when you're with Tommy, every word, every movement, every smile...I see how it affects you” Bill remarks, Ted struggles against tears. “You love him, and mind you, he loves you too” Ted nods, that he knows, I do love him. “I will always think that no one is good enough for you but Tommy? He comes pretty damn close” Bill finishes, Ted raises his brows lovingly.

“Bill Dorris, did you just swear?” Ted asks teasing his friend. Bill turns to him, dead serious.

“Yes I did, and no one will ever believe you” They erupt into tired laughter and sit until the night comes to a close. The professors come to collect Ted, and Bill gets a ride with Paul. But something changed that lively night, another part of the puzzle was found and it fits perfectly. However, another part of the puzzle was lost that night, a part no one thought could be lost, a fury of love and sunshine...finally dimmed out.

~~~

Something had died that night, and it had died alone. Tommy watches as Ted led Bill out of the theatre, smiling at the pair happy to see things falling back into place. He waved at Ted who only caught a glance but smiled at him. He sighs happily turning towards another group, he starts a polite conversation with them but feels something boiling in the back of his brain, an itching. He glances around seeing Billy leaning against one of the sides watching him intently. He shivers trying to shake off the pit now consuming him.

“Bye Tommy,” Charlotte says hugging her friend, he hugs back eyes wandering towards Billy, he holds on a little tighter wanting her to stay. But she does and soon so does everyone, until its just Tommy, Chad, Billy and his friends. Chad and Tommy carry on a conversation that leaves Tommy feeling pleasant, it comes to a slow however much to Tommy’s disappointment.

“Oh wow” Chad says looking at his watch he perks back up to Tommy “I gotta get home, um...have you by any chance seen Ted?” He asks, Tommy ponders for a moment recollecting the events that had transpired.

“He went out towards the foyer with Bill” Tommy smiles, as the professor nods. He thanks him quickly, giving him a rushed farewell until suddenly once more Tommy stands alone on the stage with Billy watching him. He moves to the piano feeling himself wince at every step. He reaches for his phone checking for an update from his mom or anything really...from Ted.

“Hey” A slimy voice whispers abruptly, a painful shiver runs down Tommy's spine as he recoils jumping. Billy smirks at him, play the part, Billy. Tommy feels his lip quiver, he feels his phone buzz and reaches for it once more. An instant wave of relief hits him seeing a familiar, not yet changed name pop up.

Dearest

Ted: Hey… I just wanted to make sure that you were really alright

As much as Tommy wishes to reassure him, to continue to another subject he can't. He wastes no time sending an urgent text, something he knows he’ll understand. How could he not? It was pretty clear.

Tommy: Still at school, alone with Billy, please help.

“Oh no need for that” Billy's voice intrudes his mind once more, he watches as the disgusting teen grabs the phone from Tommy's hands throwing it on the floor. Tommy winces instinctively as the shatter hits the ground...and the pieces all fall apart.

[stupidspaceseven]

A Memori Fic Rec

Hi Friends! In the spirit of celebrating memori engagement week I’ve decided to celebrate some of my favorite fics! Under the cut are a range of fics in different genres and ratings, divided between canon fics and AUs. It’s long but by no means exhaustive. All these fics are completed ;) Happy reading!

Canon Compliant Fics

How All This, And Love Too, Will Ruin Us by biextroverts

Rating: T, One-shot; Genre: Found Family/Angst

Emori finds a family and loses a lover on the Ring.

A great Ring fic that covers the six years in space. I’ve only read it once because it made me That Sad, which is really a testament to how well writting and IC it is, so if you’re a sucker for angst and raven&emori friendship definitely give this a read. 

The Lotus Eaters by maelidify: @maelidpoetree​

Rating: M (no smut), One shot; Genre: Fluff, Character Study

“I don’t like this place, John,” she said. “We’re not safe here.”

Am I partial to this fic because it was a gift to me? Yes, but I firmly believe that more people need to read it and that the author deserves more recognition in general! This pre 4.08 science island fic is sweet and romantic but explores inner conflicts of nature in such a beautiful way (with some awesome anecdotes and metaphors). All her writing is beautiful and poetic and it’s worth your while to go through her memori tag to find/read the stuff she hasn’t posted on AO3.

Cataclysmic by maelidify; @maelidpoetree​

Rating: E (by author request don’t read if you’re not 18+) One-shot, Genre: Angst

She’s looking up at him, half angry, half looking for permission for something. For what—?

Oh.

More breakup angst!! This remains the best Murphy POV I’ve read, it’s messy and angry and sad and the fic tears me up a little every time. I’d even recommend this to people who don’t like/read smut because, while present, it’s tasteful and really this fic is about all the emotions. If the two fics in a row haven’t clued you in just read everything Liz writes, because I don’t have space to talk about all her fics but they are all worth your time!!

First Impressions by interlude; @bombshellsandbluebells

Rating: T, One-shot; Genre: Drama

John Murphy comes back to Arkadia with an unfamiliar grounder woman. The Arkadians and former delinquents react.

(Or: Memori seen from different points of view. Takes places between 4x03 and 4x04.)

Personally I’m a big sucker for outsider POV fics, and the author does a great job with keeping all those outsiders in character and addressing their most pressing motivations while keeping memori in the spotlight of the fic. The story has all the urgency present in s4 and fills in some of the gaps nicely!

The Wild by Debate; @stupidspaceseven

Rated: M, Multichapter; Genre: Fluff

When Emori points up at the sky, it’s with a pointer finger twice the width of his own. He locks away the knowledge that she trusts him deep inside his chest.

[Post Wanheda 2, detailing Murphy and Emori's early season 3 adventures as they grow to mean the world to each other.]

This one is a shameless self-promotion, but I’m recommending it because I think it’s really good!! Fun shenanigans, theft, first kisses, angsty backstory reveals, smut, this fic basically has the works, and I’m like, 98% sure it’s the longest memori canon complaint fic out there. (I have a host of other memori fics, canon compliant and otherwise if you want to check those out too, but this one’s my personal favorite).

Canon Divergent AUs

Her What If List by the_most_beautiful_broom; @the-most-beautiful-broom​

Rating: G, One-shot; Genre: Meet Cute/Ugly

Memori Appreciation Week: Day One: Canon Divergence

Emori and Otan's latest robbery goes awry when the mark ends up being very much awake, but all's well that end's well, and an unexpected connection is made in the middle of the desert.

And she wonders if his eyes weren’t just sad, that they were just asleep. Because maybe it’s the fire, or the fading adrenaline, but now Emori can swear his eyes are sparkling. Which is a stupid thing to think. She’s in the middle of the dead zone, with a gun that isn’t a gun, and a man who could be conning her just like she’s trying to con him.

A really imaginative AU with Grounder!Murphy. This puts our characters in a familiar situation but makes it new and unique. Emori’s POV is both critical and vulnerable and the memori banter is amazing!

home is what the heart protects by emperor_bell

Rating: G, One-shot; Genre: Family/Friendship

"John Murphy had lived a hundred lifetimes in his year on the ground and yet still, somehow, after a year of living in space again, nineteen year old John Murphy hears the word “dad” and his first thought is 'I’m too young.'"

I'm obsessed with the thought of Emori having a baby in space, and I set out to write Memori parents. Instead I wrote 2k words of John Murphy feelings. Enjoy.

More messy feelings! The dialogue here and what characters (mostly Murphy) do versus what they think and say is really interesting and makes for an engaging read. Plus a look at how complicated memori as parents would be and a super angsty sequel if that’s the kind of thing you’re into!

Taking A Village by Zaffie

Rated: M, Multichapter; Genre: Found Family/Survival

Once they get it all sorted, the technical aspect of living on the Ring turns out to be the easy part. It's the rest which is hard. Everyone's got their personal demons to face - except when you're seven people trapped together for five-plus years, "personal" is easier said than done.

This one is much less memori-centric than spacekru-centric, but it’s probably my favorite Ring fic, and the AU aspects just make it better. Both Murphy and Emori are incredibly in character and their chapter is beautiful and sad. If you happen to also be a big Spacekru or Raven fan this fic is a must. Also there’s a great sequel in the works!

I know the sound of your heart by dylanobrienisbatman; @dylanobrienisbatman

Rating: G, One-shot; Genre: Fluff

Bellamy fought hard, and got them the 80 acres on the edge of the valley. They built a house, big enough for all of them, they had a farm, they were happy and safe. Emori should be happy, she should feel like it was enough, but it wasn't. She and John were still apart, and their history made her scared to try.

But as time went on, she watched as John became part of the group. She kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, but the longer she waited, the more it seemed like he was really better.

Was it time to give him another chance?

The soft spacekru feels in this one are almost as great as the memori ones which feature reconciliation and addressing their s5 issues in a healthy way. The lead up to them getting back together is as good the second go around as in the first.

eat, drink, and be merry by flowermasters

Rating: G, One-shot; Genre: Fluff

Murphy and Emori do what they can to improve morale.

So this is the wedding fic that everybody needs in these hours. There’s a healthy dose of spacekru to make it all the ore sweeter and Murphy and Emori are adorably in love while trying to maintain their aloof and uncaring reputations. This fic did so much to heal my soul while in the depth of the s5 angst. 

In This Valley by Kats_watermelon; @katswatermelon​

Rating: T, One-shot; Genre: Angst/Fluff/Kidfic

written for day 1 of memori week, prompt: canon divergence 

This is mostly a really fun spec fic if God Complex went worse and Murphy and Emori got six years alone on Earth. There are big shifts in tone from the start to the end of the fic, but they feel earned and memori have a cure kid in addition to Madi and you get to see them square up with Diyoza asap. Something for everyone!

Life After the Mountain by Ghelik; @ghelikblack 

Rating: T, Series of One-shots; Genre: Hurt/Comfort

The Mountain falls and the grounders keep their distance, because the Sky-People are soldiers that have earned their respect and the lands of the Mountain that they have conquered. Which is good, because skaikru might need a break.

Series of one-shots in an AU where season 3 kind of didn't happen, but elements of it might be borrowed from.

This one is a little different because it’s a series of one shots and not all of them deal with memori but the fair majority of them do, and it’s a great what-if of how Murphy and Emori learn to function in society in a (sort of) kinder world. There’s lots of angst and vulnerability and feelings of inadequacy as well as fluff and healing. The fics span genres so there’s probably something for everybody!

Burn brighter than we ever have before by Zoadgo; @jonnmurphy

Rating: G, One-shot; Genre: Drama

Murphy flees an unknown threat in the Promised Land, running right back to the desert that almost killed him the first time he crossed it. It seems intent on fixing its past failures, and Murphy isn't strong enough to fight it on his own, this time. But someone from his past offers him a chance to survive, and even to prosper in the Dead Zone. That is, if he can bring himself to trust someone who has already betrayed him once.

Another great Murphy POV with additional cool (or hot, rather) desert descriptions and personal conflict. It’s a cool what-if and explores how things could have gone down if t100 didn’t go full scifi. Most of all Murphy and Emori’s understandings of each other/immediate connection shine through. 

Show Them the Mercy They Won’t Find on Earth by berxnica

Rating: NA (no smut), One-shot; Genre: Drama

she just showed up swollen and scared, eyes so impossibly big that they left no room for a smile. she pulled murphy aside and removed the blanket that she previously was clutching to her stomach. and there it was, her stomach, swollen and full and round with the promise of life.

Another memori becoming parents fic, but in a different era. The character understanding shines through in the prose here. Our faves are suspicious and afraid and angry while still being soft with one another. If kidfic is your thing at all it’s def worth your time!

Earth Skills: Reap What You Sow by BeaRyan

Rating: E, Multichapter; Genre: Crack/Smut

That week everyone got high on mutant corn and John Murphy realized juvenile prison might not have taught him everything he needed to know about how to please a woman. Canon adjacent.

This is a Memori story from John Murphy's snark-tastic POV and as such contains minor whomp of everyone. Complete.

This story contains a multitude of side pairings, but it is really good for a laugh, and despite being cracky Murphy and Emori’s feelings are very real and present and sweet. A grand ‘ole fic.  

AUs

Litany by infernalandmortal; @infernalandmortal

Rating: T, Mulichapter; Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

After leaving an abusive relationship, Murphy moves into his best friend's house. He's fine, really. Their new roommate comes with more than enough baggage of her own.

(A Memori college AU)

If you read memori fic chances are you’ve read this, but it’s definitely worth reiterating! Great writing really brings forth raw emotions from both Murphy and Emori’s POVs and a lot of reading this fic is like getting sucker punched in the best way. There’s also a nice side helping of found family feels, and you get it all in Amanda’s lovely prose (her setting descriptions? kill me) truly a must read.

Little Beast by infernalandmortal: @infernalandmortal

Rating: T, Multichapter

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

John meets her eyes from across the room. What are you running from? his eyes ask.

Nothing, she blinks back. Everything.

“Will I see you again?” His eyes are trying not to be earnest. They are a strange shade of blue-green in the flickering yellow street light outside her house. They are uncomfortably difficult to read.

“Maybe.” It’s all she can give. She’s supposed to fear boys like this. “I’d like to.”

(A Memori-centric small-town AU. Title and opening excerpts from Little Beast by Richard Siken.)

Less angsty than Litany, but no less emotional, this fic is *chef’s kiss*. The fic features Murphy and Emori growing together and becoming family with one another while trying to manage their pasts. The growth the characters have through the fic is amazing and the ending make me feel all kinds of Soft. There are also bonus drabbles in the same ‘verse. And after you read those you might as well read everything else by this author because her stories are numerous and amazing. 

Don’t be surprised if I love you (for all that you are) by not_a_total_basket_case; @raven-reyes-of-sunshine​

Rating: G, One-shot

Genre: Fluff

Emori doens't want to find her soulmate, she wants to make that choice herself.

Who doesn’t like a good soulmate AU? The mechanics of soulmates in this AU are really unique and structured in a way to make the payoff at the end all the better. It’s a great friends to lovers story, and the supporting cast is lovely too, this fic make you feel all warm inside. 

Tired of Yourself and All of Your Creations by Chash

Rating: T, One-shot

Genre: Fluff/Drama

Murphy didn't ask to be successful and relatively wealthy and friends with people in good standing in society. It just sort of happened, and now there are all these families who apparently think he'd be a good match for their daughters. Being a respectable member of society is a pain, really.

I certainly didn’t know I needed a memori Regancy!AU until I read this, but the characterizations were picture perfect and the plot quick and smart without getting pulled down by the type of dialogue common in regency writing. A very fun AU!

Quiet Thought Come Floating Down and Settle by LayALioness

Rating: T, One-shot; Genre: Drama/Fluff

When Murphy meets the girl, it’s not under the best circumstances.

A great example of canon transferred to modern AU well with prickly Murphy and mysterious Emori. The story is fast paced and all of Murphy’s inner musings and snark are highly amusing. 

traitors never win by Kats_watermelon; @katswatermelon​

Rating: T, Multichapter; Genre: Crime/Drama

Murphy's been kicked out of his crew. Emori's been alone for a while now. They both have a knack for robbery and dreams bigger than their pasts, and they're willing to steal from anyone and everyone to prove it.

If you like the high drama this is for you, a very edge of your seat read with a great payoff at the end. Lovely dialogue as well and a combo of both Murphy’s and Emori’s POVs.

Golden by frikdreina;

Rating: E, One-shot; Genre: Smut/Fluff

It was their two years anniversary and Emori had planned this for weeks. Murphy would be at her place after seven and Emori skipped her last period so she could get everything done before he got there. Her heart was pounding as she unlocked the door to her apartment, the thrill of anticipation taking over her. It was like if electricity was running through her veins and she couldn’t get enough of it, with her mind drifting to the way he kissed her and how his touch had always felt right on her skin.

If you’re just looking for some hot and sweet memori smut this is the fic for you! Doesn’t get into anything too kinky and remains intimate throughout with great descriptions. 

she’s the tear in my heart by flowermasters

Rating: M, One-shot; Genre: Fluff/Drama

Murphy is in love with the girl he's sleeping with, and is incredibly bad at handling it.

Oh man This Fic. The banter is amazing and full of little call backs and tie ins, the descriptions speak to Murphy and Emori so well and transfer to a modern AU so easily. The fic is lovely and if you want something where Murphy and Emori are just dumb about their feelings than this is for you. Another author to keep your eye on if you like memori (or becho) fics. 

[valntinemorgenstern]

Regret

A Jordelia TLH one-shot fanfic, inspired by Cassie’s post that Cordelia reads to James. 

There was something illicit about this, Cordelia thought.

She could not for the life of her recall what exactly she had just read.

It was perhaps the proximity, she thought. Being so close to James, sitting beside his bed, handling one of his books. The greenish fabric of the hardback was beginning to fade; pages yellowing, the edges furred. This was, in any other circumstance, prohibited, unallowed; this was, in any other circumstance, utterly unreal: an unmarried woman, and an unmarried man, present in the same bedchamber. James, in his own bed. This close.

This close.

If she turned her head just so, she would see — she had done it ten times, already — fanned-out, ink-black lashes cast down against a milky pallor of skin. There was even the faintest tracery of vein just over his closed, slightly fluttering lids. She felt absurdly gleeful. How many times had she dreamt of such a scene like this? Whenever else would this moment like this arise? 

She imagined Lucie, suddenly, her expression disapproving and puzzled. No. This was something she could not confess to Lucie. Her brother was scandalously handsome, yes, anyone could see that; but she would be horrified, surely, to discover her own parabatai’s affection ran so deep: the things that occupied her mind.

What would the ends of those lashes feel like, she thought, brushed against the tip of her finger? Her imagination vaulted, leaping over to other, more thrilling possibilities, scudding fast as clouds: pressing a light, delicate kiss to each lid. 

James, in Cordelia’s mind, was painted on a daytime canvases of motion against murky London sunlight: sauntering around a drawing room, slinging on a dark coat, feet up on some sofa or chaise longe; twirling a pistol mid-air; grinning wickedly at Matthew. This was unprecedented, James, alone in his bed chamber, and she, alone with him. Her mind, suddenly, supplied the word for her, the thing she was hesitant to give form to: intimate. That is what this scene was. And unlike all those other times she had ever been close to James, now there was not a single soul to watch them.

Cordelia could hear his slow, deep breathing; every little twitch and shift she detected against the heavy sheets piled on top of him. Were his feet bare, she wondered? Though perhaps, given his injury, he was merely wearing a nightshirt—

She read the next few lines louder, with renewed fervour. Concentrate. By the angel. She was reading Thomas Hardy, which, in hindsight, she wished she had not picked from the leaning stack of books on his bedside table. She would much rather it had been something more decorous and turgid like Dickens, rather than this splayed, sensuous prose, like a split-open fruit. Indecent, people said. She could see why. Of course a Herondale would like something like this. The heat in her cheeks, the trilling in her chest, intensified.

James shifted, a troubled noise emanating from him. Cordelia’s watched him, pausing again, noticing that his cheeks had pinkened to a sleepy, soft colour; his brows were furrowed, his mouth sad, a darkening shadow all around his jaw. She thought, some woman, some day, will wake up to this sight every morning.

Cordelia felt a surge of emotion, something searing hot and bursting, almost like rage, sweeping all the way up through her body, as she gazed at him. She had this thing before; she knew it well. But it was getting worse, she thought; she felt a constriction in her throat, as if she could hardly breathe. I had better leave before I do something I shall regret.

Trying to disguise the sound, she inhaled deeply, as far as her stays would allow her, and then simultaneously snapped the book shut and stood, gathering her skirts.

There was a quick, shocked gasp from beside her.

“Sorry,” She said, “I did not mean to wake you.”

His voice was a breath, croaking and broken. “Daisy?”

“Yes.”

He coughed slightly, his voice a little clearer. “What are you doing?”

His eyes, as she watched him, were bleary and half-open. “I…” What had she been doing? “I was reading.” To you, she added, internally.

“Are you leaving?” His voice hitched a little.

Her mouth formed an answer that she could not articulate. She sat back down. “I was stretching,” She said, giving him a tight smile. “What were you dreaming of?”

His gaze moved to the quilt cover. “I have horrible dreams sometimes.”

Cordelia hardly knew what to say. Would it be rude to enquire? “So do I.” She said.

“Really?” His tone was incredulous. He looked back at her, and held her gaze.

“Yes. As my father says, there is no better actor in this world than woman.”

James’ frown deepened. “Yes,” he said, eventually. “I think your father is right.”

She knew they were no longer talking of herself anymore. “You were dreaming of Grace. Would you like to talk about it?” She felt something in herself deflating, turning cold.

He shook his head. “Talking is of no use. It is as if…” He trailed off, a little sigh escaping him, “she is lodged in my mind, dug in somewhere I can’t find. And I have tried and tried but I…sometimes I think, in a year, in two, or three, will it still be like this? This incessant…will it be even worse? I swear by the angel,” he looked at her, something in his expression suddenly fierce, “I will go mad. I already feel it, sometimes. Possessed. I look at a seraph blade and wish I could plunge it straight into my head, if only I could cut her out with it, I would in an instant.”

She let her breath go. “Jamie.” Damn it all to hell, she thought, and she leant down to kneel beside his bed, to grasp his hand. She brought it up to her mouth, pressing a desperate kiss onto the back of his hand. “Jamie, please. Please.” She did not know what she was begging for; she did not know why there were tears, suddenly, filling her eyes.

“I am sorry, Daisy, pretend I never said anything—“

“No, no, Jamie, you— we will find some way,” She vowed to him, two cold, wet tears running down each cheek. “We will.”

He stared down at her and whispered, “I feel it is hopeless.”

“Don’t say that.”

He gave her a weak smile. “You’re right. You are so good,” He stroked back her hair from her face. “I’m sure we do not deserve you.”

Good. She thought, that’s what I am to him. Good. Her tears streamed faster. His fingers moved to brush them away, but she arrested his hand, and brought it to her mouth, proceeding to blanket it over in kisses, just as she had imagined thousands of times — into his wrist, in his palm, over his fingers.  

She stopped. Recoiled. Swallowed. She felt like she had that time when she was a little girl and she had picked up her mother’s most favourite and expensive vase from Tehran. Inevitably, it had slipped through her fingers and shattered disastrously into fragments all over the tiled floor, making such a sound that surely the entire house had heard it. She remembered looking up to find her mother’s eyes on her; the deep chill that ran through her as she met her eyes. This is it. This is regret. There was no undoing this, now.

She cringed at the shock in his voice. “Daisy?”

“I’m afraid I must go.” She hastily dropped his hand and got to her feet. “I feel — rather — rather ill.” It was the only thing she could think to say.

She dashed out the room, feeling James’ gaze piercing the back of her, searching, dumbfounded. The moment she escaped, she threw herself against the nearest wall, savouring the fresh air, closing her eyes, biting down viciously on her lip. How could you be so stupid?

“Cordy?” She heard Lucie’s voice to her right. Where had she come from? Cordelia’s eyes flew open. “Are you…” She saw her expression become puzzled. “Why are you out of breath?” She saw her parabatai’s eyes flick to the door behind her — her brother’s room — and flick back to her.

“I feel unwell, suddenly. I have no idea why,” A breathy sound left her.

Lucie smiled. “Come with me.”

[vers-shiro-blog]

fics that I’d propel myself across a dangerous chasm for

These are some fics that I am deeply in love with, and I need absolutely everyone to know about them. So, here’s a rec in the spirit of @sheithparticipationweek day two!

Trenches by commodorecliche • 9.9k 

This fic is incredible. It has such a fantastic atmosphere, melding unsettling beauty and romance into this fucking masterpiece of a fic. Subtle world building, beautiful prose and pacing, and the most captivating characterisation - I swear it’s worth it, please give it a read.

Coming Out by melonbug • 1.3k

This is one of those tiny fics that just steals your soul away. The dialogue has great, subtle comedic timing and the characters absolutely shine. I wish I could read this for the first time all over again, but all the same I keep coming back to it. 

I wanna hold your hand by tsunkiku • 3.4k

I thought I had reached peak love for Keith. I was wrong. Sometimes I try to reread this fic and I have to take a little break because my heart is literally threatening to bust out of my chest. This is the sweetest, most well-written fic, and Keith’s internal dialogue is so well placed and genuine. If you want to be smacked over the head with soft-dorks-in-love... prepare for some spinning cartoon hearts, because this is the fic for you.

Wildfire by Graysworks • 13k

Fake marriage AU! Literally what more do I have to say? Except I’m going to say more because I’m actually in love with this fic. Humour! Action! Romance! Stunning characterisation! A plot that sweeps you off your feet! And I swear it’s as exactly as good as it sounds. Go read it, and then accidentally reread it because you scroll back to review your favorite part and just get lost in it all over again. 

soft as a lion tamed by ghostlypng • 11k

Alright, the truth is - nothing I could say here would do this fic justice. I am completely, totally in awe every time I go back. The prose is steal-your-breath-away incredible, and the characters are complex and so deftly written. It’s one of those quiet stories that is lodged permanently and perfectly inside me now. If you’re looking for something different, and interesting, and hugely inspiring - follow that link now. 

and run to the light by the hyacinth girl • 9.3k

This fic feels like the softest nostalgia. It’s fairy-tale beautiful, with enough complexity and and quiet sadness to have you daydreaming about the world inside it for days afterwards. I’m no kind of romantic, but my heart is aching right now just thinking about this story, and as soon as I finish making this post I’m probably going to go read it again. You should do the same.

Make You Sweat by filthbaron • 4.5k

A good author can get me into anything, and this author is uniformly excellent. This (very very extremely nsfw) fic edges that perfect line between absolute filth and sweet, sweet romance, and it does it so well. If you’re looking for something unapologetically different, give this one a try. 

A Floral Fuck You by HaroThar • 4k

This fic is just a whole lot of fun. There’s somehow a whole plot tucked into a few thousand, perfectly paced words. Soft pining, humour, intrigue, plot twists! If you grew up reading fic in any capacity, this is going to remind you why you love it in the simplest, most joyful sense. 

***

And that’s all, folks! Try to drop a comment on some of these if they make you feel any type of way, and always, always remember - sheith is love... and sheith is life. 

[slavicafire]

5,7,11,12 on hi im not american pls!! :)

5. favourite song in your native language?

(I am so incredibly glad I got this question a lot, it let’s me justify picking more songs than just one.)

this time I’ll say “Z nim będziesz szczęśliwsza” by Stare Dobre Małżeństwo.

my mother used to play this as a lullaby - and then my lost love sent it to me. it’s both a memory of childhood and of broken hearts. the melancholy, the nostalgia, the sadness...

7. three words from your native language that you like the most?

krew - blood - all all words coming from it - krwawy, krwisty, pokrwawiony...

wrzosowisko - moor, heath, field of heather

przekleństwo, klątwa - curse, also swear word

I love harsh sounding words - losts of r, rz, w, k, ch. and harsh meanings, too.

11. favourite native writer/poet?

Marek Hłasko, Marek Grechuta - and the great grump Sapkowski, I owe the Witcher saga so much.

12. what do you think about English translations of your favourite native prose/poem?

they are very often really well done - such as The Witcher - but I will always be bitter. I believe that there is no way to render our harshness, melancholy, rawness, in English.

and fuck will never carry the same meaning and weight as kurwa.

thank you so much!

“hi, I’m not from the US” ask set

[lurkerdelima]

“If you die, I’m gonna kill you.” - SilverFlint but make it fluffffff.

I wrote some ridiculously fluffy illness hurt/comfort for you @beneaththeblacksails! I hope this is something like what you had in mind. 💕

This is set in a modern universe of my own creation, which I call Hawaii verse or No Ka Oi (loosely ‘the best’ or ‘none better’ in Hawaiian) verse. Flint is a writer who lives in North Shore, Silver is a masseur who lives in a rundown apartment with Max. Our two Gross heroes met on the beach because of course they did. 

Silver tries to deny it for a few days, but by the time Thursday night rolls around, he just can't deny it anymore: he's sick. Fever, chills, a cough, the sniffles, he's got it all. That's not the worst of it, either - he'd planned to have a date with Flint tonight and now he'll have to cancel.

A few hours before Flint’s supposed to pick him up, he texts him, reluctant: ‘so I thought I could fight it off but I have a bad cold, I can't go out w/you tonight. I'm really sorry :(‘

He sighs and puts his phone aside immediately after sending the text, lying prone on the couch in a state of sadness and deep, syrupy self-pity. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the screen light up with a new message.

‘I’d still like to see you. How about I pick you up, bring you back here, and make you some soup?’

Silver beams when he reads Flint’s message, not quite believing his luck.

‘that sounds perfect, I'm sure Max would like a break from me and my germs (and my whining, lbr, I’m not a good sick person)’ he texts back.

‘Great, I'll be there at 7,’ Flint replies, and Silver definitely doesn't hug his phone to his chest or anything because that would be ridiculous. Instead he heaves himself up from the couch and packs an overnight bag, hopeful that Flint will invite him to spend the night. They've only had a handful of sleepovers so far - all at Flint's house, since he lives alone and Silver does not - but they've all gone very, very well.

He texts Max, who's out with Anne, so she won't be surprised if he doesn't come home that night. Then he showers and changes into a fresh set of pajamas - lime green ones with pineapples printed all over, because he knows Flint will be amused by them. He settles on the couch to wait for Flint to come rescue him, and without meaning to, he falls asleep there.

He wakes a short while later to someone knocking on the apartment’s door. He hurries to answer the door, opening it and smiling when he sees Flint.

“Hi,” he says. All he wants to do is fling himself into his boyfriend’s arms, but he holds back, not wanting to share his germs right off the bat.

“Hello there. You look better than I expected, I think you're the prettiest sick person I've ever seen,” Flint says with a little grin. “Nice pajamas, too.”

“Flatterer,” Silver says, grinning back. “Shall we?” he asks, then steps out and shuts the door behind himself. He locks it, then follows Flint to his car, overnight bag in hand. “I hope this isn’t presumptuous of me...I brought my toothbrush and a change of clothes, and some other things, just in case.”

“Not at all. I’ll gladly have you for as long as you want,” Flint says.

“Careful, I might just want to stay forever,” Silver jokes, easing himself into Flint’s sleek car. It’s much fancier than his own island beater of a pickup truck, that’s for sure.

“Well, I’m certainly not opposed to that idea,” Flint says, and then he’s starting the car and driving off toward his house in North Shore while Silver seriously ponders moving in with him, even though they’ve only been dating a little while.

They arrive at Flint’s gorgeous seaside villa a short time later and Silver climbs out of the car, following Flint inside and whistling a jaunty (if somewhat congested) tune. He sets his bag down inside the door, standing still when Flint’s ornery cat Kapena saunters over to sniff at him curiously.

“He’s coming around. He doesn’t hiss at you anymore,” Flint observes as the cat circles Silver once, then trots away. “That’s progress,” he says. “Now, let’s get you set up on the couch and I’ll start making soup.”

That evening finds Silver curled up on the couch with Flint, enjoying delicious homemade chicken soup and watching a TV series they’ve been waiting to watch together. Once he’s through with dinner, Silver rests his head in Flint’s lap and falls asleep there, despite it being barely 9 PM.

He wakes a few hours later to Flint gently rubbing his back. “John,” he murmurs, “it’s time for bed. I’ll help you up. Do you want some cold medicine first?”

“Yeah,” Silver says drowsily, more than willing to let Flint stand him up from the couch and half-carry him to the huge, welcoming bed in the master bedroom. He drinks down the little cup of foul-tasting cough syrup Flint brings him afterward, and then he’s out like a light.

—-

When he wakes the next morning, despite the soup and the cough syrup, he feels even worse than before. He groans and buries his face in the pillow, whimpering.

“What’s wrong?” comes Flint’s voice, and then a big, warm hand is on the back of his neck, rubbing gently just the way he likes.

“I think I’m dying,” Silver mumbles into the pillow, turning his head so he can squint dubiously at his boyfriend.

“If you die, I’m gonna kill you,” Flint says tenderly, then leans in to kiss Silver’s forehead. “Hm, you are a bit feverish. I prescribe a day of rest with a handsome older gentleman catering to your every whim.”

“Sounds good to me,” Silver says, rolling over onto his back and stretching his arms over his head.

“Cough syrup makes you really weird to sleep with, by the way. You woke me up and pointed at the wall, then said ‘can you see it?’ I asked you what you were seeing and you said ‘all the barbed wire, and the demogorgon,’ then went back to sleep,” Flint says.

“Sorry,” Silver mutters sheepishly, feeling himself blush.

“I’m not done,” Flint says, smirking. “Around 2 in the morning you woke me up again, saying that I knew nothing about the swamp because I hadn’t lived in it and you had. You were pretty incensed,” he says, laughing. “Then for your grand finale, just before dawn you grabbed me, gave me a big kiss, told me to have an excellent day at sea, and pushed me out of bed to the floor. Then you stole all the covers.”

“Wow, I am apparently a dick when I take cough syrup. Lesson learned. I am really sorry,” Silver says, reaching out for Flint’s hand.

“It’s okay,” Flint says, taking his hand gently and kissing his knuckles. “I still love you.”

“I love you, too,” Silver says, feeling his heart beating a little faster.

Flint beams at him, and Silver feels that smile all the way down to his toes. “Can I make you breakfast? What do you feel up to eating?”

“Pancakes?” Silver asks hopefully, shuffling closer to Flint in bed when he reaches for him. Together they leave the bed and Flint walks Silver to the living room, getting him set up on the couch with cartoons and a box of tissues before disappearing into the kitchen.

They have breakfast together - pancakes, fresh fruit, and coffee - and then Flint makes sure Silver has everything he needs, fussing over him.

“Let me know if I can get you anything. I’ll be in my study, I have to get some work done today. But you can text me if there’s anything at all you need, I’ll have my phone,” Flint says, kissing Silver’s forehead. He shouldn’t like that as much as he does, he thinks. “You get some rest, and recover.”

“You got it,” Silver says, smiling wearily up at Flint. He watches Flint’s cute butt as he walks away, thinking about how very lucky he is that said butt is his to enjoy.

He falls asleep again and wakes a little before lunch, feeling restless. He gets up from his nest on the couch, ambling to the bookshelf to find something to read. To his great surprise, he finds a few titles he recognizes - J.E. McGraw gay romance novels. Who knew that a literary, educated man like Flint would even read such a thing, let alone apparently enjoy them so much that he’d buy hard copies to keep forever?

Silver reaches for one of his personal favorites - Captain & Quartermaster - and is shocked to realize he’s holding a first edition. All he can think is that Flint must really, really like McGraw’s work. He takes the book with him back to the couch and settles in for a comforting reread, slowly shutting out the world around him, carried away as he is by the beauty of McGraw’s undeniably erotic prose.

He doesn’t surface from the story until a shadow falls across him and he hears a pointed throat-clearing noise. He starts, nearly dropping the book, and looks up at Flint, chagrined.

“Uh, hey. Sorry. How long have you been there? I got really absorbed in the book,” Silver says.

“Not long. I just wanted to see if you were hungry, I’m going to order something for lunch,” Flint says, a curiously self-satisfied smirk playing around his lips. “So you enjoy that one, hm?” he asks, gesturing to Captain & Quartermaster.

“Yeah. I’ve been reading McGraw since— well, since I found a copy of his first book shelved in the wrong section of the library as a teenager, actually. It was a big part of my sexual awakening,” he murmurs. “You must really like him too, I noticed this isn’t the only first edition you have of his on the shelf,” Silver says, gently putting the book aside on the coffee table.

“...you don’t know, do you?” Flint asks, a strange expression crossing his face. He looks bewildered and amused all at once.

“Know what?” Silver asks. He’s normally pretty quick on the uptake, but being sick makes him slow and sleepy, and he’s not getting what Flint is implying.

“I am him. I wrote those books, I’m J.E. McGraw,” Flint says, folding his freckled arms across the enticing expanse of his chest.

“No fucking way!” Silver blurts out before he can stop himself.

“Yes fucking way,” Flint replies, laughing. “Really, I swear. I could call my publicist now and prove it. That’s why I have all those first editions - I wrote the books.”

“I can’t believe I’m meeting one of my favorite authors,” Silver says, rising slowly from the couch, feeling a huge grin threatening to overtake his whole face. “I can’t believe I’ve been dating one of my favorite authors. I’ve had sex with J.E. McGraw!” he crows, slightly delirious with both fever and excitement.

“Easy, there. You’re still sick, I can’t have you getting all worked up,” Flint says, easing Silver back down onto the couch and sitting next to him. “Let’s order something to eat and then I’ll let you ask me whatever you want about my books.”

“Okay,” Silver says, nuzzling Flint’s shoulder and grinning some more, his eyes closing. “Can we make out, too?”

“Hmm...I would be worried about getting your germs, but I probably already have them from letting you sleep in my bed. Sure, if you can stay awake, we can make out,” Flint says, slipping one arm around Silver and drawing him in close.

Five minutes later Silver is asleep again, his head on Flint’s shoulder, drooling and snoring. In his fevered dreams, he and Flint are a dread pirate captain and his beloved quartermaster.

[raysofthesun-allaine]

Remember Me

( Short Story by Allaine Eclarinal)

*pls listen to the song while reading!*

Its 9am in the morning when I woke up. Yesterday was very tiring day, going in and out of cities in the Philippines to visit my company and business, plus some issues with the customers because of the mistakes of my employees.

" Should I fire them?" I think to myself, it's always my thing to fire employees if they do mistakes, I never tolerate mistakes in my company.

I get up in my bed and go to the shower. While holding my phone, it rings.

" What time is it?? Today is the boardmeeting Ana!" Sam shouted in the phone. Sam is my fiance, we've been together for five years and last year was when he propose. It's been a year but the wedding is still postponed, I don't know why but there something, probably he's cheating?.

"Yeah yeah I know... those business man can't wait huh? And Another thing, I already said to cancel that partnership with that brand diba?!" I said getting angry, here we go again.

"Ana this is the time! it will be a great step for our company! Don't you want this?" Sam said.

" Cancel that partnership, my company can stand on his own" I said with firmly and end the call.

Those business man are hungry for power and money, if only I could kick them in the company but there are my father's friends.

I did my bath and go downstair too eat breakfast. My secretary hurriedly come to me, probably gonna tell about the boardmeeting. I peak at the clock, it's ten am I have to eat then.

"Mam, the meeting is going on" my secretary said.

" Those men can't wait huh? Okay " I said. They getting on my nerves slowly

" They still proceed when I said to cancel... " I said with an amusement in my voice, they never learn huh?

I was always feared by my employees and business man. I always display my unwelcoming face and strong sttitude to people that I met because I need it, to run this company so that no one will ever take advantage of me. Being a young girl and A CEO of the most famous company in the country is not a joke. People know me as Agatona Lasera a beautiful shark in the business world.

I finished my breakfast and got in the car with my bag. I drive to the office with my secretary.

"What's my schedule for today?" I said while my eyes on the road.

" You have a meeting with Mr. Shang at 12nn and later, u have a visiting appoint in another new branch of hotel." my secretary said.

" it's that for today?" I said.

"Yes mam," my secretary said.

oh? Good that my schedule is not packed because yesterday was a tiring day and I don't want that again.

We have reached the parking lot. I walk through the elevator holding my bag. I got in and my secretary press the floor. I see my reflection on elvetor, I wearing a jumpsuit with higheels, I let my hair down brush it with my fingers. I also put lipstick and powder in my face that bring brightness in my face.

The elevator stop and open. The employees stop talking when they see me, they were all standing and bow at me as I pass through them. Some greeted but I ignored, I don't have time to chitchat.

I opened the door in the meeting room. Business man were all shock because of my appearance.

" Go on with ur meeting.. I know that y'all can't wait to this partnership. " I said while walking to my sit and rolling my eyes in them.

They still silent. I glanced at them, putting my elbow in the table with my hand holding.

" what? I said go on? " I said with a smirk. " Ah sorry to interrupt, but I already said no to this partnership right?" I said a little angry this time.

The people in the room starts to be confused, probably shock because of my decision.

" But Miss Lasera, This Is a Big opportunity to us to bring our company overeseas!" A business man stand from he's seat shouting at me.

I look at him in the eyes, he got intimidated at me. I smirked.

" You know that company can go on it own right?" I said while starting to draw circle on the table. I am getting angry at this. " The company dont need this partnership! " I said firmly.

They were silent. I called my secretary, and asked a question.

" Who insisted to proceed this partnership?!" I said.

"Mr. Ladesma po" he said slowly. My fiance? we already talked about this but why did he proceed this? I said in my mind.

I sighed and look at the people on the board.

" Cancel the partnership or I will fire all of you, even if y'all are my father's friend" I got up from my seat and walked to the door. Those people are really testing me huh?And what the hell is Sam thinking?.

" Where is Sam? " I said to my secretary while entering my office.

" Mam I don't know po" He said.

I seated on my chair and lean. Sam is starting to cold be cold on me since he proposed on me, I don't know the reason of it.

I reached my phone and called him. He didn't answer but its ringing. I put my phone down, annoyed by it. I checked at my watch, it's eleven am maybe i should go out.

" I'm going out, stay here. Just called me when there Is important" I said to my secretary.

" Copy mam" he said

I walke to the elevator with my cellphone and car keys. I dialed again Sam's no. and still there is no answer. Where did he go huh?. I got on my car and start the ignition. Where would I go? hmmm, I know I will visit the site of our ongoing project.

The traffic was heavy and my temper was getting high. I have no patients when it comes to this. I was opening my window when I see Sam on the window of the restaurant, he was talking with a girl, they were laughing and holding hands. I was stunned and froze at what I see. I stared my eyes in front of me. My eyes getting blurry as I hold the string wheel tightly, all of this years being with him was very important to me, but why? how could he do that. I slammed my hands infront crying hard, I coudlnt breath properly. The car behind me was honking at me and passing by me, I didnt notice that the lights was green. Out of anger, i step on the gas and drive straight not knowing where to go. I was getting fast and can't see properly because of the tears.

I shouted loud and close my eyes and felt a strong impact, my body feels numb as the darkness eats me.

Chapter 2: A wandering soul

I regain conscious but my body was okay, I look around and I'm on the street. I see my car and run to it. It was crashed on a truck, people were flocking on my car. Its looks like they trying to get someone out, when they got it out. I was horrified, it was my body, full of blood and no concius. I start to look at the people, it seems that they don't see me.

An ambulance come. They take my body on the car probably go to the hospital. I got shocked, am I a spirit now? how?. Still crying but not hard, I can't proses properly, I just go on with my body following it until we reached the hospital. I stared at my body, nurses and doctors flock at my body. All I can do was to stare at it horrified.

A man in black jacket came right me. I was shocked because he was staring at me and could see me.

" Your name is Agatona Lasera right?" he said to me.

Still shocked " Y--yes" I Stutterd.

He was writing something in a notebook of his. This time I look at him fully, he was tall and look like an angel if he wearing some white.

" So you are on the waiting list huh? A wandering soul" He laugh at me.

My one eyebrow raise, how could this man laugh at my situation. I'm no longer in my body! My god!.

I rolled my eye right him. Ignoring him.

"That's right, keep adding your sins... that why your soul wandering" he said to me while smirking.

"What the hell your saying?" I said getting annoyed at him.

"Shss! Stop saying that word, you could go to hell already" he said in a serious way.

I look at him curiously. " Okay, Who are you? Can you explain what's happening? why I'm like this? And why do you know my name?" I said getting out of breath. I need to know something.

He smile at me " Well... You didn't do good things in your life soo.. karma I must say?" he said while looking at my body. Doctors was busy reviving my body. I started to panic a little, I need to live and need to smack Sam for cheating me.

The sound of a hearbit, I heard. They revive me but why I'm still in this situation? I need to be back at my body.

" No you can't " he said " Your a wandering soul so you have to wait for the heavens decision if they will permit you to live" he said and turn his back at me. he started to walk away from me.

" What? U mean I have to stay here like this? wth" I said really annoyed. He didn't answer and entered into a room. A famiily was crying, a little girl where comforting his parents. It seems like they can see him, she's like me a soul.

"It's time to go huh?" The girl said to the man I was talking too.

" Uhuh, let's go." he said

" Will be my family be alright?" the little girl said " Yes, probably sad but they be okay" he said happily.

The little girl turned back and smile at her family. Slowly she disapperead, a emotion was getting me, i felt a saddness got me. I looked at him and he look at me.

" You need to do good things starting today so that god will let you live okay?" he said. I didn't get it at first but slowly I understand. In my life I always been so harsh to people, getting angry all the time for a little reason. Firing employees and not giving them a second chance to work. I've never been realize that I've been a bad person all along. I always look the world as cruel that's way I néeded to be strong.

" How do I start then?" I said in low voice, I'm ashamed to myself. This is my firstime I felt so defeated and hopeful was my only choice. This time I want to make things right.

Chapter 3: Making things right

We are here now standing here in front of my building aka my company. I don't know how we get here but I don't care. This guy better help me to this or I will swear the God.

" Uhmm, why we here?" I take my eyes from the building to hiim. This time I can fully see him in broad daylight. He has a black eyes that shapes like an almond, his eyebrows are thick and has a pointy nose. Damn, he's hot! I wonder what kind he is ? maybe a servant of God? if yes I just want to die maybe in heaven there's a lot of boys like him heheh---

" I know what you're thinking, stop that, ur sinning again" He said when he's done looking something in his notebook. I wonder what is the purpose of that notebook?hmm.

He started to walk again, I followed him when he enter the building. It felt so weird to be here, not a CEO but as a wandering soul! I never thought to be in this situation, walking like a ghost and people just pa's through my body like wind.

He was not seen by the bodyguard when he entered. Yes, people can see him, but how ? How can he entered when there is a security system? Is this what I'm paying for work? How can this gaurd be so---

" Stop that, don't fire him" he said while not looking at him as he walks. People where busy, like its a normal day? probably some are happy because my accident, huh surely the board members are dancing right now! That thing makes me angry, wait ttill I'm came back hahahah.

He stop at the janitors lounge and greeted some employees. What is happening? Is he working here? How?.

" Yes, I work here" he said as he open his locker probably change he's oufit.

" How? You're a Janitor? by the looks ur not, ur just kidding me" I said with a smirk. He closed the locker loudly that made me jump. he was looking me intensely like I'm just a joke.

" So ur gonna humilated me by my job?" he said " I never thought u could be this so bad huh?'' he said

" Sorry.." I said " I never want to humiliate you, Im just amazed that ur working in my company and to this job I mean---'' I said. He haved changed his cloth with a workers name Antonio.

'' You're name is Antonio huh?... cute" the last word was a whisper. " So what we will do? where do we start?" I said getting ready.

He look at me and sigh. " We should start with your Secretary" he said preparing to go in the elevator.

" Oh okay how?" I said while finding my reflection, still I cant see it thou.

He sighs again. " Remember, when he was requesting something to you. It was an increase in his salary since he was working with u for 10 years. He was the bread winner of his family and having a financial trouble." he said

" I have never thought he was that, he never tell me" I said. I realized that I have nothing know about my secretary because mostly we talked about business, he was a effecient and professional, he was the best even thou he's annoying somestime.

" So raise his salary" he said seriously.

" but how? I'm a ghost ?" I said unbelievable " unless u will help me?" smiling at him. Damn hes handsome in that uniform.

" Yeah " I hinted some hesitation but said yes sooo... I smiled and we get out to elevator.

Our plan was to sneak him up to my office to use my monitor so we can wire some money to my secretary, but we decided to wire some money to my employees. This is a little thing for me, and it feels so great to give something to someone. I did tell him my security password and he did do the thing. While he was doing it, I looked at my shelfs. All this award were nothing when you die honestly. Money and wealth can't be brought in heaven too, this was a realization to me.

" Done" he said while streaching his body as he get up. I came out first to check if there is someone outside, maybe my secretary was in the hospital. He came out in the office quietly and we walk when suddenly all employees was jumping and happy. Some are crying while looking at there phone, probably they receive the money.

" So what now? " I said. I feel happy that somehow I did something right, I hope it helps them.

" I don't know you should wait when the time comes.." he said looking at his watch.

Watching the employees smiling and crying was a greatfeeling. Suddenly, I miss my family, maybe my mom and dad is crying because of what happen to me.

" U know, this is actually great huh?" I said looking at the employees. " I never thought Ive been so selfish all this time. I view the world was as a cruel place and there is no good so that u have to be tough on this life. But I'm wrong, good is the beautiful thing that I feel and do now." I said out of nowhere. When I didn't here a response I looked at him and he was looking at me intensely.

"What?" I said still gazing att him.

"nothing" he replied. " I need to do work, go somewhere else" he said

" But I have nothing to go, and to talk to ! I'll follow you!" I said. I've never been so scared in my life but this! Is so unbelievable! I never believe about God or anything but now ....

" Okay suit yourself" he said.

Chapter 4: The Choices

It's been a week since the accident and I'm still not wake up, I'm not still in my body I've been in many place for the past week. My house and my parents house, and hospital. Sometimes, I see Antonio here talking to other ghost, sending them to the heaven. I follow him every time but its okay for him. He maybe look annoyed at me but we pretty getting close now

I'm here in my hospital room and staring at my body. my parents go home to change. I don't know but my hopes wear starting to fade now. Maybe god decide to take me and send me in hell for thing I had done.

I got out before I think something else. I got out from the room when I came across to a random soul. He was spacing out so I came near her.

" hey u okay?" I said. He looks sad. He sigh and replied. " I will got to heaven now, it feels so sad living here" he said.

" Butt why? Don't you wanna enjoy life here ? plus god will decide to you? right " I said

" No, I chose to goo up now, I don't wann live anymore. We choose our own destiny and God will only guides us." he said.

I am starting to doubt. I thought God will decide if I could live? Why Antonio lied to me? How.. I've could have choose already if he only said to me early, but why not now.

The boy start to walk to my left and meet Antonio, I was mad rushing to him getting ready to lash out.

" Why didn't you tell me ? " I said while in the verge of crying. "How could you lie to me? that I'm a the one who will chose my decesion in life?!" I scream at him frustrated that I had to feel this.

" You can choose now" he said. His face was nothing, but I can see in his eyes that hes hiding something to me. " You will live and get back on your body or die and will live on heaven" he said. I don't know but the suddenly I can see a sadness in his eyes.

" I choose to be live" I said calmly to him. " I don't want to be like this anymore. " I said but theres something not right.

He smiled at me sadly and replied " Okay, I wish you to be happy" and then turn his back at me leaving me at my place alone. I should be happy now but why I'm sad? his face, I can see the sadness but why? he should be happy right?

That night I stayed in the hospital with my body so when time comes I could wake up easly. The sun was up now, I was still sitting on the floor waiting for the time. When Antonio was rushing to my door and when he see me he run to mee and hug me tightly.

" I will miss you" he said " Remember me when u wake up huh?" he said while he run his fingers through my hair. God I have a crush on this man! Damn.

" So u finally come to me huh? I thought ur angry at me" I said, I didn't see him through the night. I hugged him to tightly. Damn! this guys smell nice too.

" Of course I'll remember you!" laughing att him. " I'll give salary bonus when I wake up" I said seriously because I will dot it first when I wake up

" How I wish uu could remember me" he whispered it like something he always pray.

" I promise ! I'll treat you when I got in my body okay!" I replied to him as he looking me. We touch our head together and hold hands while I close my eyes. He whispered something but I didn't here it and when I open my eyes. I see tears on his eyes, he was sad. As I dissappear in the air..

Chapter 5 : She awake

I opened my eyes slowly, I feel dehydrated now and my body, I can't move except my fingers. I touch something and it made sound. My vision still blurry but all I can see is white and the sound of an operating system. I couldn't remember anything but only the accident and why it happened.

A sound of the door opening. A two hospital doctor and a nurse hurriedly check on me, I couldn't here clearly what they saying because I felt tired, I still want to sleep. Then I closed my eyes because of the tiredness that I feel.

I suddenly woke up from the noises of people talking inside my room. I could move my head and my arms now. It was my parents and Sam who is there. When they notice that I'm awake my parents came to me.

" Ana! Are you okay now? How do you feel? You need something? " My mother who was about to cry in front of me.

" I'm okay now mom" my rasp voice came out. I looked at my dad who aged maybe from stress that he get to me. " I'm sorr mam and dad, I made you worrry" I said.

" No, Ana ! I'm thankful that ur alive now, your mom couldn't sleep for days thinking about you." he said. I smiled to my parents I'm lucky to have them.

" How's the company? " I said.

" It's okay, our investors where shock at what happened to you! thankfully Sam willing to help us with the company" dad said while looking at sam.

This asshole has the audacity to visit me after I see him cheating on me huh? let me say something. He was looking at me smilliing like he didn't do something.

" I'm calling the engagement off, get out my life Sam" I said firmly. Myy parents where shock at what I've said.

" Ana what is happening? Why you calling of the engagement? " my mother said. I didn't answer because I don't want to humiliate him in front my parents. I raise my eyebrow at him and smirk

"I know what your doing, so save yourself and get out in this room! I don't want explanation !" I said .

He did get out quietly after staring me for a second. My parents were confuse but I didn't say a thing. I just sleep again

It's been a three weeks since I got discharged from the hospital that I stayed for at least a month. I'm fully okay now and strong, news we're all over the place, it is about me giving bonuses on my employees which I don't know, but then I didn't regret it and go with the flow.

Today, its my first time to comeback at the company. Sam was fired by my father after they discovered by themselves that he was trying to take the company and planning some dirty and also the cheating stuff. I'm gladly that he's gone. Since I was in the hospital there is something that i couldn't remember, I always cried thinking about it day and night. I don't know but in my heart there's something missing.

Im in front of my building, as I enter all the staff was bowing and greeting me. I greeted them back and they were shock by it. I proceed to walk when I bumped into someone tall. I looked at the guy and the first thing that I saw was a name Antonio. I looked at his face, he is familiar to me. things were getting awkward the employees were curious of whats happening.

I smiled at him and he smiled at me as I pass by him. He's cute I wonder where he work.

----------The End---------

[wolfgoddess77]

Love Letter Masterlist

After the...what are we calling this thing? FluffFest2k17? After that, anyway, a lot of us were flooded with anonymous (and not-so-anonymous) love letters from our favorite characters.

I wanted to thank everyone who sent me one (or more) letters. They meant so much to me. Some of them hit me straight in the feels and made me tear up a little, while others...hoo boy, they DID THINGS™ to me.

"If I could wake up every morning to see your face next to mine I would be more than happy. I feel like it would be the perfect heaven to know that you are there for me as I will always be there for you. Whenever you are down I want to be there to lift you up back on your pedestal, to me you are a goddess that is meant to be worshiped and adored. I want to be the only one that is allowed to worship at your temple for I love you so much." - Nyx Ulric

My Reply

Before I met you, I felt that I couldn't love anyone. That nobody would be able to fill the void in my heart, but that all changed when I met you. I came to realize you were always on my mind. You're funny and sweet, you make me laugh & smile. You take away all my anger and sadness. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, more beautiful than any flower that I have ever seen. I started to write poems about you. Now I've come to realize that I am hopelessly in love with you. - Nyx

My Reply

You're probably going to laugh, knowing what a ladies man I'm supposed to be... but I've been pacing for hours trying to figure out how to say this to you. You're special to me... there's no one else like you. You're beautiful sure, but you're kind, supportive, intelligent, loyal... every time we part you're all I can think about. ...I love you. It feels so good to just say it. I've loved you for a while now. Maybe we could talk about this over dinner tonight? Love, Nyx

My Reply

Wolfie. Sweet, breathtaking Wolfie. Let me spend the night not ravishing you like a wild beast, but caressing every inch of your skin, telling you what I love most, kiss every so called "flaw" you say you have. I don't see them, lovely. I see an angel. -Nyx

My Reply

Moon of my life, I can't stand to be away from you any longer. If only I could show you how much I yearn for your gentle touch. How I burn for the not so gentle as well. I thought about what you said before I left when you told me you loved me. I wanted to say it back, but you looked at me like I held the world and it scared me. I messed up then, but I do love you. I do. There's poetry in your hip sway and the fire in your eyes. Let me say it to you in person. Give me a chance. Adoringly, Nyx

My Reply

You are all I think about. It infuriates me. Why does your face appear in my mind during battle? Why do I hear your voice in the still night even if you're not there? You've changed me, my love. Before, I was ready to lay my life for the sake of Lucis and for Galahd. My life was nothing. But when I met you? Everything changed. Dying scares the living hell out of me. The thought of your beautiful face, all alone... I can't. I can't. - Nyx

My Reply

Hello there, beautiful. Missed me? I miss you too if ever you're wondering. Training has been a bit difficult. I always come home and just sleep from exhaustion. But a hero's gotta be responsible. Tell you what, I'm free for a week after this. Drautos probably figured that we'd die before we even go to the front if this keeps up. We can do whatever you want during my break. Feel free to indulge. Until then the two of us have to be patient. Just remember that I miss you everyday. Your hero, Nyx.

My Reply

I remember my first glimpse of your face, of your smile. I was blown away, and I told myself that I had to get to know you. That's why I came up to you and introduced myself without any doubts. I always thought it was crazy, the thought that I might be happy with someone. But now, my heart is saying you are the one for me. I love you, and I want you to know that. Yours always, Nyx.

My Reply

I hope you aren't cross with me for the bruises. I was a tad bit over eager. I have never been so aroused yet simultaneously at one's mercy. I would kneel before you in an instant, should you ever ask. You are all I desire, you are who I want to twist about in the sheets with. Let me show you the heavens with my tongue. Let me wet my lips with your nectar and cry holy in the night. I love you. Sincerely, Ignis

My Reply

Wolfie, my beautiful goddess. Do you know how distracting you are to me, even when we are apart? I can't get you out of my mind. Your beautiful smile is always in the back of my mind, fueling my drive to continue to fight for Lucis. I love you so much. I never want to let you go. Be mine forever? - Nyx

My Reply

You, me, dinner, tonight? Been a few days since I last got to see you, and I'll be damned if I ever forget the way your face lights up when I tell you I love you. I bet it just did now, just from reading that. Gods, you're so sweet… So I was thinking, maybe after dinner I could commit you to memory in some other ways? I can think of a few. So be sure to eat your fill, Wolf. You're gonna need all the stamina you can get. —Nyx

My Reply

Why, hello there. I’ve heard much about your efforts in Discord, of how you attempt to resist my charm and wit... Why do you wound me so? All I want is to pleasure you in the best ways I know how. So please, my dear… Let me show you what I can really do. -A.L.C.

My Reply

Why hello there, darling. Care to join me for dinner later? I thought I'd make some of your favourites tonight, a smaller starter followed by a delectable main course. As for desert? Well, we'll have to move into the bedroom for that one. There's a specific sweet treat I want to get my tongue around. Perhaps I'll even delve back in for seconds... - I.S.

My Reply

Gods, woman, Nyx just told me about your... suggestion. And I can't say I didn't relish the thought of sharing you with him. I've always wondered what your moans sound like. Nyx never kisses and tells, but from what I gather, kissing isn't his go to move anyway. If you're still offering, I definitely want to partake. Your body is beckoning me to commit sins I never imagined prior. Nyx said he would come for you later. And I expect you will come over and over again. Earnestly, Pelna

My Reply

So it seems that you still try to resist me, my sweet? I can see it on your face. My, my, the way your cherry red lips tremble when you try to resist... It's enigmatic. I will wreck you, my dear. In the most wonderful and inexplicable way. How I long to hear you sing for me... and my, can this canary sing. You can run and hide all you want, my love. I do love a chase.

My Reply

Dear, to you this velvet rose I commend, in which a model of yourself I tend. How well within your palm its long stem rests, so just your smiling eyes my vision nests. To hold this goddess of mystique is life, a touch of you is much more so, my wife. The scent thins in air, the color is true, as true, yet how much more special are you. Whereas you, my wife, exceed in each right. - Ignis

My Reply

Hello, lemon cake. How was your day today? Hopefully swell. I'll tell you how mine went. I woke up, and immediately thought of you. Of your scent, of your smile, of your laughter. My heart cries when I'm not around you, and I constantly crave your presence. I plan to make you my wife one day, I hope you don't mind my saying. You're the only one I ever see spending the rest of my days with, my love. -With love and adoration, your Ignis.

My Reply

Hey baby cakes, I'm sorry I've been gone off and on all week with little time shared between us, I hope you can forgive me. All this deamon hunting and making sure people are safe has got me missing you so much though. I swear when I come home I'm gonna ravish you in ways you never thought possible love, I'll see you tomorrow I promise. Yours always, Gladdy.

My Reply

I heard you were feelin' a little out of it. I'll be right over with orange juice, babe. You've done so much for me and I feel like I don't do nearly enough in return so when you're feeling better, I have a dress for you to wear. It's kinda sheer, but I have a thing for those glorious curves, and it'll look amazing on you. Especially while we eat dinner in Galdin Quay. What do you say? Will you be my arm candy for the evening? Love, Nyx

My Reply

Hey, gorgeous. Just wanted to drop by and see how you're doing. I've been thinking about you all day, Lib's been smacking me for having this dopey smile on my face and getting distracted during training, but what can I say? It's just the effect you have on me, and I love it. You're amazing, don't you ever forget that. You hear me? I'll always be here to tell you that. Always. Keep being you, babe. - N.U.

My Reply

Uhm, I am super bad at this, ha, but, I wanted to tell you I may have a little, uh, crush on you. And it's totally fine if you don't feel the same way! I just really like you and I want to kiss you and do boyfriend/girlfriend stuff. So. Uh. Maybe let's get coffee or something? I really want to talk to you. - P.A.

My Reply

Foolish mortal, you think yourself worthy of my presence? Prove yourself worthy and then we may have an agreement. Touch yourself, scream my name, show me how you desire nothing more than my presence between your legs and my heat within your dripping folds. Show. Me. Then maybe, just maybe, I'll give you what you so desire. - I.

My Reply

My precious Wolfie. Soon will come the day when I can hold you once again, when I can feel the heat radiating from your skin in the afterglow of release, stuttered breaths as you come down from cloud nine. My greatest desire is to feel your body shift with the ebbs and flows of pleasure, and know that I helped you achieve such paradise. Apologies for the poetic nature of my writing; only you can inspire such prose. I love you, now and always - Ignis

My Reply

So close, yet so far away. Don't know if I can stand another day, I long to hold your mesmerizing face and on my lips, your kiss I taste. You've got me trapped in a box of wonder. Our bodies together, no matter who is under I need you now. I desire to know you in every detail, Give me this chance, my heart will not fail. Life is a trial, that's never ending but together is time we could be spending. - Ignis

My Reply

Nyx feels thoroughly satisfied with himself when he pulls down your skirt, only to see that you've already soaked through your panties. He smirks, eyes flicking up to yours briefly. A chuckle leaves him, low and raspy and your breath hitches. "Eager, are we? Me too," he admits, lowering his face to your wetness. His fingers slide the fabric aside and he takes in the scent of you. "Oh god," he lets out on a ragged breath. "I can't wait to taste you. Don't worry, I won't let a drop go to waste."

My Reply

Wolfie, darling, did you say your neck is your weakness? Ooooh, my love, surely you don't mean me running my lips over your throat, moaning at the taste of your soft skin. A shaky breath as I nibble just under your ear. How many marks should I leave this time? One? Five? How about I just stop when you are a trembling, wet wreck, crying my name? I'll have so much fun with you.

My Reply

Hello, dearest. So you want to embrace the flames? Experience my lustful rage? Oh, darling girl, you know what they say when you play with fire. But I digress. It is your wish, after all. Come play with me. I will have you reduced to nothing but a toy for my amusement. Nothing but a mortal vessel here for my amusement. And you asked for it, dear heart. You asked for it. And a god does not leave you wanting. -Ifrit

My Reply

Nyx sauntered over to you, his eyes scanning your naked body up and down. He was in nothing but his navy blue briefs, his erect cock aching to be touched. You jumped as the cold metal from his nipple piercings touched your back. "Mornin', babe," Nyx whispered as his tongue began to lick, up, up, up. up. "Let's start this morning off right."

My Reply

Nyx sauntered over to you, Prompto hot on his heels. "The boy and I overheard something about you having an eye for him? Is this true?" His eyes lingered for a bit too long on your chest and he enjoyed the blush it elicited. "Ohhhh baby, you poked at the wrong beast. See, I have wanted to see you between me and someone else for ages and now? Prom here is going to ravage you against that wall, while I watch. You will cum for us both."

My Reply

Sweetheart, why are you staring at your inbox? Did I not give it to you good enough last night? Do you need me to leave work and come take care of you right this minute? Drautos won't like it, but I'll do whatever it takes to make sure my girl is satisfied. On the other hand... if you can wait for tonight, I'm going to kick the door in and take you right there in the hall when I come home. How do you want it? Against the wall? On the floor? Just say the word, and I'm yours, babe. Love, Nyx

My Reply

Hey you. I saw a quote earlier and thought of you; 'We are each of us angels with only one wing, and we can only fly by embracing one another.' You're my other wing, Wolf. My other half. You help me fly through the skies more than I ever thought I could. Thank you, I love you. - N.U.

My Reply

"My sweetheart is feeling blue today?" Nyx asked softly, brushing hair away from your face. "I can fix that." You tensed a bit at his touch, but he was a patient man. "Shhh, darling. I've got ya." He laid down with you, running his fingers up and down your torso. "I've got you."

My Reply

Nyx pinned your arms above your head as he entered you, causing you to arch back up off the bed. "Oh, you like that?" He said, prime smirk on his face. "Guess we'll have to do this more often then, babe." He pulled out slightly before ramming back in until he was at his hilt, causing you to moan loudly. "Oh, that's it. Let me know how good I'm making you feel, don't you dare hold anything back from me. Not. A. Word."

My Reply

You felt Ignis' torso against your back as he leaned against you, cock pumping into you relentlessly from behind. "Such a good girl." He whispered, voice edging on a purr. "You take my cock so well, darling." He brought a finger to gently glide down your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "Such a beautiful body... I think it's time I marked it as my own..."

My Reply

A hot breath tickled the shell of your ear. You could practically hear the smirk painting the tone of his familiar voice, “Kacey.” Nyx's hand rubs the curve of your ass, “Why’d you try to hide it from me, babe? You know I’d find out eventually.” Teeth graze the skin of your neck and his hands explore the curves of your body. “I can’t wait for you to hear all the ways I can make your name.” He groans, “Especially when that cute pussy takes me whole."

My Reply

Iggy wrapped his arms around you tightly, picking you up and placing you into your bed. "Darling, we will spend the rest of the day in bed...where I will worship you as the goddess you are. My beautiful goddess."

My Reply

"I can't wait anymore," a low voice growled from behind you. "On your knees." You felt a strong hand on your shoulder and smelled a familiar cologne. "...Nyx." "Bingo." You dropped to your knees, trembling expectantly. "Teasing me with those luscious curves," he mumured, stroking your face. "Flaunting them in sexts when I am miles away." Nyx unzipped his pants. "I have been simmering, stewing in all of the terrible things I am going to do to you. Open up."

My Reply

Ignis approached you with a fire in his eyes, one which always excited you when it made itself present. Before you knew it, you were pinned up against the wall, his hands placed on either side of your head, giving you no room to escape. “My dear, Kacey, did you really think that you would be able to evade me? I’ve been watching you all day, your little movements, your little flirtations, I know exactly what you’ve been doing.”

“And what is that?” You breathed, heart beating a mile a second. Ignis smirked, bringing one hand to push his glasses back up his face. His lips descended on yours in a tender yet heated kiss, enough to have heat pooling to your sex and to send you dizzy. “Why, I believe you want me to ravage you for everything that you’re worth.”

Ignis bent his head down to your neck, taking a small amount of skin into his mouth and sucking. The pleasure you gained from it had your knees buckling, like nothing else in the world mattered at this point in time. He pulled back, admiring the purple mark he had left on your neck. “Such a beautiful neck… But even more beautiful when marked…” He said, moving to another spot and leaving another mark.

Once he had finished his assault on your neck, he moved his head back up to be level with yours. “Now, Kacey, you are to do exactly as I say. Failure to do so will result in me ceasing all action immediately. Do you understand?” He demanded, speaking huskily into your ear. “I’ve wanted this for a long time, darling, and I will not be denied any longer.”

My Reply

You came into my life when all was dark, but you gave me the light and I found my way. - N.U.

My Reply

If, out of time, I could pick one moment and keep it shining, always new, of all the days that I have lived, I’d pick the moment I met you. - I.S.

My Reply

How's my princess doing? Good? ... I hate that I can't ask in person right now. The Citadel's the last place I'd want to be, not while you're somewhere else. Unless I could somehow bring you here but then... I'd *never* get any work done. The only thing I'd be able to stare at is you, and that's, a bit counterproductive to being a guard, huh? Don't worry. The moment I get off work I promise I'll stare at you all I'd like. Can't wait. <3 -- Nyx 

My Reply

Ignis gently caressed your cheek, leaning forward to rest his forehead against your, the tip of his nose brushing yours. "I missed you today, my love...I hope your day was well."

My Reply

Stargazing With Nyx

Now, you've seen flames dance on my fingertips, but I would rather use those fingertips to light a flame in you, no magic required (even if it *feels* like magic...) -Nyx

My Reply

You hovered over the blonde glaive, smirking as he tugged on the belt that bounded his wrists to the headboard. "Looks like you're stuck, babe," you whispered in Luche's ear, biting it in the process. Luche winced, a soft whine escaping his chapped lips. "I may be tied down, but don't you think that I can't still make you see stars, my Princess." You raised your eyebrows, grinding your pussy against his hardon, making him squirm. "Is that so?" you whispered. "Let the games begin, then."

My Reply

A strangled cry emitted from Luche's throat as you sucked another hickey into the tender flesh of his thighs. This was a game of cat and mouse, a chase, a challenge to see how long he would be able to hold out before begging to be inside you. But than man was stubborn, he wouldn't yield to just any old act. "You're going to have to try better than that, Princess." He said, biting his lip in frustration. "Otherwise I'll make sure you're the one begging."

My Reply

"Your go," Luche grumbled, his cock glistening with your slick. Nyx grabbed at you protectively, glaring at the glaive. It had been hours since the four of you had begun this mess of sweat laden bodies on bodies. Tredd was spent, still a little drunk. "Hanging in there, Kacey?" Nyx whispered, kissing your thigh. He smiled when you nodded wordlessly. "Good. Because I am not done with you yet." New energy prickled through you as he knelt down, his tongue making slow circles on your sensitive skin.

My Reply

Nyx jackhammered into your well used sex, adding another set of long, jagged scratches down your back, glistening with sweat and cum. "Come on, Kacey, fucking scream for me. Come. On," he growled ferociously, cupping your breasts with a rougher than normal grip. He arched over you, wildly snarling into your hair. "Fucking cum for me." "I-I can't," you moaned into the pillow. "Like fuck you can't." His fingers found their way to your overly sensitive clit, his name ripping from your throat.

My Reply

Nyx gently glided the blade down your body as he sheathed himself inside of you, not enough to pierce the skin, but enough to have you shivering as Ignis worked at your neck. As he reached the bottom of your stomach, he withdrew the blade, turning to Ignis with a smirk. "Look at him, marking you like he thinks you belong to him..." Nyx started, thrusting slowly. "Let me show you who's princess you really are."

My Reply

Luche moaned against your heat, balling his hands up into fists as you sat atop him. "Ah ah, no noises or I stop." You said, rolling your hips forwards teasingly. His eyes rolled back into his head and he threw his fist down on the bed in frustration. Drawing your hips back, his breaths came in pants. "Please, Kacey, let me fuck you. I need to fuck you goddamn it!" He had a pleading look in his eyes, lip pouting as he begged.

My Reply

It was late when Nyx returned from patrol duty. Nyx took one look at you, clad only in one of his shirts, before he slammed you up against the wall. "I'm worked up and you look beautiful," he whispered roughly into your ear. He attacked your neck, licking, biting, sucking and teased his fingers along your wet pussy. Looking directly into your eyes he brought those finger up to his lips and licked them clean. "You taste like heaven."

My Reply

Luche's always been a put-together sort of man -- professional, poised, cool, collected. So getting him underneath you like this, unraveling him slowly with every roll of your hips more and more until he's practically *begging* for you to stop teasing him is a delight. His thumbs dig into the skin of your thighs, back arched and slicked-back hair a sweat-soaked mess, little whispers of "Gods, yes" and moans slipping out. He looks so pretty like this, and it's *all* your doing.

My Reply

Prompto bit his lip as you rolled your hips as you sat atop him, grabbing your hips with such ferocity you were shaking. He let out a loud moan, arching his back off the bed in pleasure. He lifted a hand to run a finger down your body, enjoying the feel of you, before flipping you over, eyes changing from their usual blue to an orange shade. "My turn." He whispered, voice hoarse and seductive. "Let's see just what I can do to you, my Queen..."

My Reply

"One or the other, huh?" Nyx grinned, raising an eyebrow at Ignis. "Iggy, you hear that? Lil' lady thinks she can't handle the both of us." Ignis leaned on Ulric's shoulder, flipping his switchblade absentmindedly. "It's almost as though she has forgotten about last week," Ignis replied with mischief in his eyes. "Kacey with my cock in her mouth and you claiming her viciously from behind." He ran the blade over Nyx's jawline and chuckled. "Seems we must jostle her delicate memory."

My Reply

"Damn, look at you." Reno chuckled, tongue flicking out over his lips as he looked over your naked form in the shower. "Couldn't wait for me to get home first?" A smirk graced his face as he slipped off his jacket and began unbuttoning his shirt. You blushed and tried to pull the curtain shut again. "Reno, get out--" but he caught your wrist and pulled your hand up to kiss your knuckle. "I will in a moment, but you look like you missed a few spots." He said before pulling you in to a deep kiss.

My Reply

Arms wound around your waist, catching you off guard but you didn't have a chance to turn and see who it was before you pulled back into his warm chest. His nose brushed up under your nose before he nipped lightly at your skin. "Hey baby, you miss me?" He purred, and you recognized the amuse lilt of Reno's voice almost instantly. "I sure missed you." He continued, a hand sliding down your curves and around your hip, teasing at continuing further still. "Let me show you how much I missed you."

My Reply

Nyx and Prompto Threesome

Ignis ran his gloved hands along your thighs, admiring the lines of hickies he had left along both of them. He stood up and moved his hands up to rest on either side of your head against the wall, taking your hands with him, lifting your leg up to rest on his hip and gently pushing himself into you as he interlaced your fingers. "Now, Kacey, let me worship you like the queen you are." He brought his mouth down to your neck as he thrust into you, every nerve in your body alight with euphoria.

My Reply

Hey, babe. Fuck do I miss you, I miss coming home to your arms waiting for me every night. I miss bending you over and railing you into oblivion against the table, the desk, wherever. It's driving me crazy, not being there with you. But I'll be home soon. This mission is sending me up the wall (Cloud's the main cause, as always.), but I'll be back to rock your world soon Kacey, I promise. Love ya. - Reno.

My Reply

"Morning, Princess." Reno said, gently kissing your shoulder as you stirred. You bid him good morning back and shuffled back into him, feeling him chuckle as you felt the bulge prominent against your ass. You turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "What?" He said, feigning hurt. "I can't help it, waking up to this hot body every morning. It has an effect on a man." His fingers danced their way into your pyjama bottoms. "Allow me to show you just how much of an effect it really has..."

My Reply

Reno hovered above you, eyes alight with lust as he looked over your body. "God, Kacey, you're gorgeous." He said, leaning down to nip at your neck. He ran a hand up your thigh, positioning it over his shoulder as he worked his way down your body, not leaving any area untouched as he settled himself between your legs. "Time for my favourite meal of the day." He said with a wink, smirking as he licked up your folds forcefully. "I could just devour you..."

My Reply

Reno panted as his hand gripped his length, squeezing tightly as he came, thick ropes of cum shooting up his body. "K-Kacey..." He moaned, sensations overwhelming him as he thought of you, your body, being inside you, every filth thought he had ever had racing through his mind all at once. An idea struck him, and he grabbed his phone, snapping a quick photo before typing out a message and sending it, making sure you knew exactly what effect you had on him.

My Reply

"Don't even think about moving." Reno said, pinning your arms above your head as he pushed you against the countertop. "This is the first night all week I've had you all to myself, Princess, I'm not about to let this pass me by." He kissed your shoulders as he slid into you, biting down gently as pleasure overtook him. "Fuck... I've needed this, I've needed you. You're all I'll ever need. I just... mmnn-fuuuuuck."

My Reply

Reno held your hips down as he pushed the vibrator against your clit, chuckling as you squirmed in pleasure. "Now, I know you love this thing, but it'll never give you the amount of pleasure I do, will it?" He asked, tilting his head to the side. You shook your head in response as he upped the setting. "That's why, for every orgasm you get with this, you're getting three more from me. Until you're practically begging me to stop..."

My Reply

Reno dipped his head back between your legs and groaned deeply, almost whining as he tasted you, savored you. His fingers dug into your thighs, his tongue working magic. "He's being such a good boy," a sing songy voice trilled behind you, gloved hands massaging your breasts. Your skin around the hands was unbearably warm, sweat dripped down your throat, hair plastered to your face as your legs clenched around Reno. "But who is your favorite?" he chirped. "Y-you, Axel," you gasped, arching.

My Reply

Axel chuckled to himself as he drew his mouth and fingers away from your heat, licking his lips as he sat up. "Sweet as always, princess..." He said, green eyes dark with lust as he looked at you, hands tied above your head as you whined at the loss of contact. He leaned down, biting your lip gently as he ran his hands up your bare sides. "Ready for me to rock your world, Kacey?" He whispered, moving to nip at your neck, hand once again travelling between your legs.

My Reply   

"Nyx..."you groan. He teases you with a toy and smirks. He's feeling cocky and in the heat of the moment, he has the head of the toy vibrating, pressing against your pussy but not in. You strain against the rope, the burn of it rubbing against your wrists has you gasping. "Do you like that...?" he teases. "If you want it, you're going to have to beg for it" his tone is silky smooth and there's a glint in his eye that tells you he's enjoying watching you squirm underneath his touch.

My Reply

Nyx trails a finger down, stopping between your legs. He lightly rubs your swollen nub and slowly slides his finger down, ghosting over your folds as he nips and kisses at the nape of your neck softly, eliciting small moans from your lips. "Don't tease me..." you manage to say. Nyx nuzzles your neck while he spoons you from behind. "You're already so wet," he croons. "Why don't you tell me where you want me, how bad you want me. If I like what I hear, you may just get it" he whispers huskily.

My Reply

Leather gloved hands ran over your bare sides as warm hands made their way across your breasts, a mouth attached itself to your neck, a finger played with your entrance. Choruses of 'Princess' and praise for your body were strung by both men, worshipping you with everything they had. When you asked them why, both Ignis and Axel replied with "Because it's you, Kacey. You're the hottest, and most valued, woman in the world to us."

My Reply

"That's it baby girl, nice and easy." Nyx crooned into your ear as you slid down onto his cock. You whimpered at the feeling of him stretching you wide, still reeling from your previous release. He hadn't even given you time to recover, simply picking you up from the desk he had bent you over and pinning you to the wall, forcing you to wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. Then he had softly cooed sweet nothings into your ear, praising about how gorgeous you were and how heavenly you always felt to him. Then, ever so slowly, he had coaxed you back down onto him, muttering how much he loved feeling and seeing you stretch to accept him into your body. 

Your sensitivity meant that you could feel every crevice of his length pressing deep inside you and it was driving you crazy how he did nothing but stay where he was, breathing in your scent and placing lazy kisses all over the side of your neck. “Nyx. Nyx, please.” You begged, arms and legs tightening around him but Nyx shushed you softly. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, princess. I want you so badly but you’re so sensitive, so tight and I’m an impatient bastard that can’t get enough of you.” He kissed you softly on your lips, lingering to savour the taste and feel of your mouth on his. “I’m gonna ruin you tonight, my Kacey, but Astrals you’re going to enjoy every single second of it.”

My Reply

Luche has you cornered now, caging you in and trapping you against the wall. "I'm tired of pretending this thing between us isn't happening..." He runs a hand through his blonde hair. "You know how many nights I've spent thinking about you? About us?" He cups your chin in his hand, lifting your lips to his. "We're made for each other, babydoll." He leans down to kiss you, his lips so soft on yours. He tastes of his favorite sweets. "You're magic, you know that? I can't stay away any longer."

My Reply

"Oh, greedy little princess," Axel moans, watching as your lips closed around his shaft. "Jealous, Reno?" Reno scoffed, stroking himself. "Kacey knows whose cock she prefers. Isn't that right, darling?" he laughed, pulling you away and into a kiss. He groaned lowly, exploring your mouth with his tongue while Axel wrapped his arms around to grope your chest. "Plenty of us to go around," Axel sighed, rutting against you. "Now, open up for us like a good girl. I have plans for you."

You lay on the bed, panting as you came down from your third orgasm of the evening. The redhead smirked above you as he withdrew, clearly pleased with his work making you come undone. The door slammed open, revealing Nyx, hurriedly stripping out of his glaive uniform. "Out, Sinclair." He ordered, shoving Reno aside. "You've had your time with her, it's my turn to please our Princess now." He said, attaching his lips to your neck hungrily.

Axel backed you up against the wall, using his teeth to remove his last remaining glove as he used his other hand to bring your leg to rest on his hip. Eyebrow raised, smirk on his face, he eases himself into you, letting out a loud moan as the sensation of being inside you overwhelms him, the radiating heat from his body setting your entire body aflame. He lifted your other leg, starting to thrust into you against the wall, moaning louder with each thrust. "You're mine, Kacey." He growled, emerald eyes boring into yours as he pulled on your hair gently. "All mine." He pinned your wrists above your head against the wall with his hand, keeping you supported with his other arm. "Now, Princess, come for me." He whispered, voice sounding strained, clearly nearly at his own end. "Let me hear your beautiful moans, baby girl. Let me hear them all."

"Oh, baby girl, look at how you move for me," Axel moaned, pushing your legs up closer to your chest. "Ah, fffuck, get on top for me, princess." You straddled him and he stated up at you with wide eyed admiration as you sat on his twitching cock. "Those hips, that fucking smile, gods." He tilted his head back, panting. "You're a fucking she devil, Kacey. You feel so good, so, ah, so good." His hands clawed at your thighs, his cheeks flushed. "Just like that, let me fill you up."

It's 2AM underneath a full moon, and your hair's sprawled back against your pillows as he rides you, teasingly slow, grin just as bright as the light streaming in through your curtains. "It's been a while," Axel mutters, his touch hot and vice-like on your hips, a sharp thrust drawing a moan out of your lips. "Sounds like you missed me. I missed you," he says, his voice a whisper, mouth just barely covering yours. "I missed you so bad, princess. Let me show you how much."

"Oh baby girl..." A familiar voice sang, the heated tips of his fingers running down your back as he bent you over the desk in the library, making every nerve stand to attention. "We'll have to be quick, Xigbar will be back any minute." Axel crooned, pushing himself into you in one sharp movement. "Please, I can hear the two of you from a mile away, not that I'm complaining. Show me what she can do, Ax." Xigbar said as he walked back into the room, smirk on his face.

You felt a hand grab your wrist, pulling you into the supply closet and pressing you against a shelf as you heard the door lock behind you. Amidst the darkness, you could see the faint outline of a braid as Nyx honed in on you, lips attaching to your neck immediately. You gasped at the contact, feeling Nyx smirk against your skin as he left a plethora of marks. "Well good morning to you too, Princess. Glad to see you could join me in this little meeting..." He said, nipping the delicate flesh.

Nyx ran his hands along your waist, gently skimming his fingers down your sides, causing you to shiver. He reached behind him, picking up one of his kukris, dancing the blade over your skin, as he ran it under the strap of your bra. He teased the edges of the fabric, a smirk coming over his features. "Now, my darling Princess," Nyx began, leaning down to kiss your neck. "How about we get this damned thing off of you? Hmm?"

Reno kissed down your stomach, hands playing with your breasts as he kissed you with urgency, trying to get his lips onto every inch of skin at once. "Have I ever told you how beautiful your body is, Kacey?" He mused, pressing a gentle kiss above your belly button. "The way you move for me, the way you take my cock, the way you arch... I could stare at it for hours." He moved down your body, kissing a trail down your abdomen before placing his head between your thighs, eyes dancing wickedly.

Ignis bit down on one of the fingertips of his gloves, pulling off with his teeth before throwing it aside. "My dear, I do trust you're feeling, shall we say, energetic?" He asked, pulling a bullet vibrator from his pocket. "Because I do not plan on stopping the use of this dear toy, I only hope that you'll be able to keep up with me. I'll be too much of a shame to see you ruined before the fun can really start..."

You felt a gloved hand teasing your entrance as you were bent over the bed, testing to see just how wet you were after the acts already performed by the two of you. A chuckle was heard behind you before you felt him enter, filling you deeply and causing you to gasp. "I want this whole damn place knowing who it is who fucks your as well as I do." He groaned, starting to thrust at a brutal pace. "Got it memorized?"

"C'mon, Princess." Xigbar cooed, biting down on your neck as you strained against the bonds holding you to the headboard, trying to reach him for a little bit of revenge. "Just let me tease you..." He ran his tongue along your collarbone and down to your nipples, before running his hand down your body to gently work at your clit. You arched into him, smirk never leaving his face as he worked on you. "Think it's time my princess got a little royal treatment, after all..."

Kacey, I know I’m not around much, I know you worry endlessly when I’m away. I can’t tell you I will always come back alive but I CAN tell you that I will always be thinking of you and I will always love you, no matter what. Remember that, when you’re alone, when I can’t be there and remember I’m fighting now only for the King, not only for Lucis but for you, to keep you safe. And maybe when you’re alone you can think about something else involving me too. - Nyx

Reno and Axel

Saix lay you down onto the bed, his hold on you still firm, still very much dominating, yet somehow gentler than usual. "It has come to my attention that certain... cretins are making you feel inadequate as of late." He said, tone firm as he ran his hands down your body. "Allow me to show you what it is that drew me to you, how much pleasure I gain from indulging in you, how it pleases me to see you come apart by my hand. I will give you pleasure unmatched, Kacey. That much, I can assure you."

The nose of one brushed against your neck, hands toying with your nipples, causing you to squirm. Or, at least, you would squirm, if your legs weren't being pinned to the floor by the hands of the other being wrapped around your thighs, his tongue buried deep within your heat. "Hey, Reno?" Axel called, pausing his actions for a moment. "Swap with me soon, we said we'd both make her cum twice each before the final act of the night..."

[ellyllonselegantemporium]

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The Waste Land

BY T. S. ELIOT

                                  FOR EZRA POUND

                                IL MIGLIOR FABBRO

              I. The Burial of the Dead

  April is the cruellest month, breeding

Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing

Memory and desire, stirring

Dull roots with spring rain.

Winter kept us warm, covering

Earth in forgetful snow, feeding

A little life with dried tubers.

Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee

With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,

And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,

And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.

Bin gar keine Russin, stamm’ aus Litauen, echt deutsch.

And when we were children, staying at the arch-duke’s,

My cousin’s, he took me out on a sled,

And I was frightened. He said, Marie,

Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.

In the mountains, there you feel free.

I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

  What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow

Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,

You cannot say, or guess, for you know only

A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,

And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,

And the dry stone no sound of water. Only

There is shadow under this red rock,

(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),

And I will show you something different from either

Your shadow at morning striding behind you

Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;

I will show you fear in a handful of dust.

                      Frisch weht der Wind

                      Der Heimat zu

                      Mein Irisch Kind,

                      Wo weilest du?

“You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;

“They called me the hyacinth girl.”

—Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,

Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not

Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither

Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,

Looking into the heart of light, the silence.

Oed’ und leer das Meer.

  Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante,

Had a bad cold, nevertheless

Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe,

With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she,

Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor,

(Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!)

Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks,

The lady of situations.

Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,

And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,

Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,

Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find

The Hanged Man. Fear death by water.

I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.

Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,

Tell her I bring the horoscope myself:

One must be so careful these days.

  Unreal City,

Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,

A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,

I had not thought death had undone so many.

Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled,

And each man fixed his eyes before his feet.

Flowed up the hill and down King William Street,

To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours

With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.

There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying: “Stetson!

“You who were with me in the ships at Mylae!

“That corpse you planted last year in your garden,

“Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?

“Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?

“Oh keep the Dog far hence, that’s friend to men,

“Or with his nails he’ll dig it up again!

“You! hypocrite lecteur!—mon semblable,—mon frère!”

              II. A Game of Chess

The Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne,

Glowed on the marble, where the glass

Held up by standards wrought with fruited vines

From which a golden Cupidon peeped out

(Another hid his eyes behind his wing)

Doubled the flames of sevenbranched candelabra

Reflecting light upon the table as

The glitter of her jewels rose to meet it,

From satin cases poured in rich profusion;

In vials of ivory and coloured glass

Unstoppered, lurked her strange synthetic perfumes,

Unguent, powdered, or liquid—troubled, confused

And drowned the sense in odours; stirred by the air

That freshened from the window, these ascended

In fattening the prolonged candle-flames,

Flung their smoke into the laquearia,

Stirring the pattern on the coffered ceiling.

Huge sea-wood fed with copper

Burned green and orange, framed by the coloured stone,

In which sad light a carvéd dolphin swam.

Above the antique mantel was displayed

As though a window gave upon the sylvan scene

The change of Philomel, by the barbarous king

So rudely forced; yet there the nightingale

Filled all the desert with inviolable voice

And still she cried, and still the world pursues,

“Jug Jug” to dirty ears.

And other withered stumps of time

Were told upon the walls; staring forms

Leaned out, leaning, hushing the room enclosed.

Footsteps shuffled on the stair.

Under the firelight, under the brush, her hair

Spread out in fiery points

Glowed into words, then would be savagely still.

  “My nerves are bad tonight. Yes, bad. Stay with me.

“Speak to me. Why do you never speak. Speak.

  “What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?

“I never know what you are thinking. Think.”

  I think we are in rats’ alley

Where the dead men lost their bones.

  “What is that noise?”

                          The wind under the door.

“What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?”

                           Nothing again nothing.

                                                        “Do

“You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember

“Nothing?”

       I remember

Those are pearls that were his eyes.

“Are you alive, or not? Is there nothing in your head?”   

          

                                                                           But

O O O O that Shakespeherian Rag—

It’s so elegant

So intelligent

“What shall I do now? What shall I do?”

“I shall rush out as I am, and walk the street

“With my hair down, so. What shall we do tomorrow?

“What shall we ever do?”

                                               The hot water at ten.

And if it rains, a closed car at four.

And we shall play a game of chess,

Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.

  When Lil’s husband got demobbed, I said—

I didn’t mince my words, I said to her myself,

HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME

Now Albert’s coming back, make yourself a bit smart.

He’ll want to know what you done with that money he gave you

To get yourself some teeth. He did, I was there.

You have them all out, Lil, and get a nice set,

He said, I swear, I can’t bear to look at you.

And no more can’t I, I said, and think of poor Albert,

He’s been in the army four years, he wants a good time,

And if you don’t give it him, there’s others will, I said.

Oh is there, she said. Something o’ that, I said.

Then I’ll know who to thank, she said, and give me a straight look.

HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME

If you don’t like it you can get on with it, I said.

Others can pick and choose if you can’t.

But if Albert makes off, it won’t be for lack of telling.

You ought to be ashamed, I said, to look so antique.

(And her only thirty-one.)

I can’t help it, she said, pulling a long face,

It’s them pills I took, to bring it off, she said.

(She’s had five already, and nearly died of young George.)

The chemist said it would be all right, but I’ve never been the same.

You are a proper fool, I said.

Well, if Albert won’t leave you alone, there it is, I said,

What you get married for if you don’t want children?

HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME

Well, that Sunday Albert was home, they had a hot gammon,

And they asked me in to dinner, to get the beauty of it hot—

HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME

HURRY UP PLEASE ITS TIME

Goonight Bill. Goonight Lou. Goonight May. Goonight.

Ta ta. Goonight. Goonight.

Good night, ladies, good night, sweet ladies, good night, good night.

              III. The Fire Sermon

  The river’s tent is broken: the last fingers of leaf

Clutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind

Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed.

Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.

The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers,

Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends

Or other testimony of summer nights. The nymphs are departed.

And their friends, the loitering heirs of city directors;

Departed, have left no addresses.

By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept . . .

Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song,

Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long.

But at my back in a cold blast I hear

The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear.

A rat crept softly through the vegetation

Dragging its slimy belly on the bank

While I was fishing in the dull canal

On a winter evening round behind the gashouse

Musing upon the king my brother’s wreck

And on the king my father’s death before him.

White bodies naked on the low damp ground

And bones cast in a little low dry garret,

Rattled by the rat’s foot only, year to year.

But at my back from time to time I hear

The sound of horns and motors, which shall bring

Sweeney to Mrs. Porter in the spring.

O the moon shone bright on Mrs. Porter

And on her daughter

They wash their feet in soda water

Et O ces voix d’enfants, chantant dans la coupole!

Twit twit twit

Jug jug jug jug jug jug

[luluuu-blog]

TANGLED UP IN BLUE

“At last I was ready to let go. I thought it would make me feel sad, but instead there is a great sense of freedom … a lightness of being seldom felt. I was holding on to threads of a past life … dusty cobwebs; brittle with age; they served no-one well. Once we walked hand in hand; side by side, but our paths now have taken different directions and I smile happily for him as I watch him go. He has found a happy ending; one that I could not give him and a great peace has settled around my shoulders; replacing the heaviness of responsibility I had previously felt for his happiness. I continue to declutter my house and my life and the space left behind is not empty, but the essence of true tranquility … “ – excerpt from a short story called “Goodbye to H” by AP

“I am and always have been a rebel, never caving into peer pressure; standing up for what I believe in; fighting against injustices; for those who cannot defend themselves and still it is possible to remain true to my inner core. These days my approach is softer; my words are gentler, because it really is not about who shouts the loudest. Even the stillest, smallest voice can be heard above the cacophony of sound in a noisy world … the secret is not really a secret at all … it is faith … it is hope … it is love.“ – AP

Soundtrack : www.youtube.com/watch?v=DJ4QoCskBN4 MAKE ME SMILE – STEVE HARLEY & COCKNEY REBEL

Last night I lay awake and silently listened the window open; I heard the sea breeze sigh I thought I heard the sound of a bittern above the gulls and rolling tide the moon looked down and smiled at me her glow mercurial lit my face I swear I heard the sands sweet whispers weaving a dream like silken lace oh what a tangled blue web you wove spinning your tales and all your woes I am free of you now; I’m letting you go what comes in with the ocean cleanses all that it knows no longer do I wander up and down looking for signs; searching for clues I know everything now; more than you know you were never the one; you could never be true still I will wonder what’s out there for me and pray I will know it when it rolls in from the sea a message in a bottle; a heart-shaped pebble a sweet cockleshell may play Cockney Rebel I’ll hold it up to my ear; hear it’s secrets intent for the sound of my loved one and all that he sent he’ll tell me he loves me and mean it this time I’ll love him forever; until I run out of rhyme he will light up my face from now ’til the end never cause me sorrow; always be there tomorrow a small satisfied smile hovers on my soft lips as I succumb to my dreams and time is let slip.

– AP – Copyright © remains with and is the intellectual property of the author

Copyright © protected image please do not reproduce without permission. I have gifted this picture to my dearest friend Kostas, who I am humbled to say has it on his desk top where he views it every day <3

This image is a compilation of 2 of my photographs.

Posted by Zen Beyond the LenZ on 2017-04-23 15:00:49

Tagged: , Cockney Rebel , rebel , Steve Harley , Steve Harley And Cockney Rebel , AP , Poppy , Poppy Cocqué , poem , prose , poetry , soundtrack , Make Me Smile , Tangled Up In Blue , quotes , quotations , excerpt , blue , sea , clouds , ocean , water , waves , beach , seaside , intense , layers , gulls , seagulls , seabirds , birds , letting go , goodbye , bye , faith , hope , love , message , sky , heavenly , ship , horizon , ship on the horizon , new horizons , past , the past , picture from the past , memories , memory , creative , creation , compilation , art , artwork , surreal , surrealism , surrealistic , P☆ppy C☆cqué

The post TANGLED UP IN BLUE appeared first on Good Info.

[limejuicer1862]

Wombwell Rainbow Interviews

I am honoured and privileged that the following writers local, national and international have agreed to be interviewed by me. I gave the writers two options: an emailed list of questions or a more fluid interview via messenger.

The usual ground is covered about motivation, daily routines and work ethic, but some surprises too. Some of these poets you may know, others may be new to you. I hope you enjoy the experience as much as I do.

Roger Stevens

has published forty books for children. He is a National Poetry Day Ambassador, a founding member of the Able Writers scheme with Brian Moses and runs the award-winning website www.poetryzone.co.uk for children and teachers, which has just celebrated its 20th anniversary.  His book Apes to Zebras – an A to Z of shape poems (Bloomsbury) won the prestigious NSTB award. Recent books include I Am a Jigsaw; puzzling poems to baffle your brain (Bloomsbury); Moonstruck; an anthology of moon poems (Otter-Barry) and Be the Change; poems about sustainability (Macmillan). Roger spends his time between the Loire, in France, and Brighton, where he lives with his wife and a very shy dog called Jasper.

The Interview

1. When and why did you start writing poetry?

I can’t remember the first poem I wrote, but I was probably around 12 or 13. I was at secondary school. This would have been in the mid 1960s. I do remember making books of my poems. I would fill hard-covered exercise books with poems and then ask my cousin, who had a typewriter, to type out the best ones. At school we had two English teachers and I guess I was lucky as they were both brilliant. ‘Old Nick’, as we used to call him, looked stern and quite frightening with a shock of black hair, was a strict disciplinarian – woe betide anyone who answered him back – and taught us about classic and traditional poetry. We studied Shakespeare, Chaucer, Byron… he taught with a passion and made poetry exciting and understandable. ‘Flossie’ was more laid back. He was fun and interested in contemporary literature. It was in his lessons that I first met e. e .cummings, whom I still love. Later, the poems of Roger McGough, Brian Patten and Adrian Henri, published in The Mersey Sound in 1967, had a great influence on me. In a way they were Britain’s answer to America’s beat poets. They showed me that poems could be about anything – girlfriends, a visit to the chip shop, anything at all. Roger McGough is still one of my favourite poets. The other big influence in my teens was Bob Dylan. I was in a band (a beat group we called it back then) and he showed me that song lyrics could be so much more than rhymes about the moon and June. I always thought his lyrics were poetry, something recognised recently of course, by the Nobel Prize people.

1.1. Why do you still love e.e.cummings?

That’s a good question. I think I probably liked him as a teenager because I don’t think I’d ever read anything quite like him. I think it was his sheer audacity – writing WITHOUT USING CAPITAL LETTERS? Wow! Flossie also introduced the class to the novel Tristram Shandy by Laurence Stearn. Written in the mid 1700s – it was a novel way ahead of its time. As a teenager “experimental” writing, as I saw it then, was very appealing. After school I went to art college and became fascinated with all things avant garde. John Cage… the Fluxus school… and that was all reflected in my writing and poems at the time. None of which would be good enough to find a publisher now. And now, when I read ee cummings – it’s not just the cleverness of the style, the content means more too. Which, I guess, speaks to me as a grown-up.

1.2. What other poets do you like to read?

I write mainly for children, and so I read a lot of poetry written for children. My favourite is probably Roger McGough. He writes for children, of course, but also for adults. He writes poems that are accessible, that anyone can read. But that have so much more to them. He can do that thing where you read a poem and he tells you something that’s true – but that you’ve never thought of before. And you think – Ah yes! Of course. I love Billy Collins as well, for similar reasons. It’s a phrase you often see on the backs of poetry books – deceptively simple. But sums them both up. I like Simon Armitage, Carol Ann Duffy… and for children’s writing Michael Rosen. I’m currently reading Stephen Dobyns, a poet that I’ve only just discovered. And enjoying his writing very much.

2. What is your daily writing routine?

I don’t really have a daily routine. I keep a notebook with me at all times and write in that most days, whenever I think of something worth noting or see something that could inspire a poem. I have been known to wake up in the middle of the night to write in my notebook, too!  Now and again I’ll look back at my notes, dig out any ideas that still seem sensible and work at turning them into a poem or a piece of prose.

But usually writing comes in clusters, when I need to spend concentrated bouts on a particular project, for example if a publisher has commissioned a book from me. When I have a deadline ahead, I will set aside a few hours each day, usually in the mornings, to work exclusively on that book. My time won’t be spent only on writing, because projects often involve research. When Brian Moses and I wrote What Are We Fighting For? for Macmillan, it involved a lot of reading about the two world wars and researching the roles played by people and animals at home and abroad. For that book I spent several weeks working all day creating the 60 or so poems that were my contribution.

I am currently working on a ‘best of’ my poetry collection, but the poems for that are already written and so at the moment I spend an afternoon or two every week trying to choose the best hundred from the thousand or so poems that I’ve had published over the years.

I have two writing projects planned for next year. One is an autobiography which will document what life was like for me and my family in the 1950s onwards. I hope my grandchildren, grand nephews and nieces and those who come after them will find this interesting. I will probably self-publish this. I am also going to write an adult crime thriller, which I hope will interest a mainstream publisher. That definitely will involve a daily routine and I will probably sit down to write immediately after breakfast, take a short break for lunch and continue until mid afternoon. The joy of writing for a living is that you can create a routine that suits you – and you’re not tied to being in one place. I can write wherever I am and, in fact, when I’m working on a big project I find I like to be at our house in France, where distractions are fewer than in England, or even away from it all in our camper van, at home or abroad.

3. What was the motivation behind What Are We Fighting For?

Well, firstly I should explain that I have to write, or make music, or create art. I don’t why this is, but I do! So the main motivation for all my work comes from within. I have written novels and poetry since my teens and have always written songs and played in bands.

But in the late 1980s I had an idea for a children’s book, which proved commercially successful. It was published in 1993 by Penguin. That was The Howen. Another novel followed, Creeper, and writing for children seemed it could be a viable career. I was teaching at a primary school at the time.

It was not until poet Brian Moses visited my school that I thought about writing poems for children. His spirited performance and the workshop that he ran made me realise this was something I wanted to do. So I wrote some children’s poems, sent them to Brian and my first poem was published in an anthology, My First Has Gone Bonkers, in 1993. That was a good year for me. From then on I had lots of poems published in anthologies, I started visiting schools to perform and run workshops for children and teachers and in 2002 my first solo collection, I Did Not Eat the Goldfish, was published by Macmillan.

By then Brian and I had become good friends. We collaborated on a book which was published to coincide with the 2012 Olympic Games and then looked for another project we could share. The reason our Olympic Games book was so successful was because the Games were held in London and the whole sport thing was really topical. Publishers like to know there will be a market for a book.

We thought there would be a lot of publicity around the 100th anniversary of the start of the First World War which we could utilise and our publisher thought so too. Thus, What Are We Fighting For? was born. But it would be wrong to say our motivation was just to cash in on an event. That might have been where the idea for the book came from, but the motivation behind the poems was to convey the evils of this war while acknowledging the bravery of those who were forced to fight in it. Brian and I both had grandparents and parents who’d fought in the two world wars. As children we were keenly aware of the fallout from these conflicts.

There are, of course, some brilliant poets who served in and wrote of both these wars, but their poems are not always easily accessible for children. So we were also motivated by the desire to show the futility of war in a way that children could understand. We wanted to write poems about sadness but with humour and which gave hope for the future. I think we managed it. This was a difficult book to write – to get the tone right – and I also needed to do a lot of research, much more than for most books of poems. It’s a book I’m very proud of.

4. What do you think is the difference between writing for adults and writing for children?

They are the same in so many ways because one writes for the same reasons, no matter what the audience – to communicate ideas. There are some obvious differences, of course: When writing for children I don’t use swear words, sexual or overly violent imagery. The main differences, however, are content and place. I remember being a child quite clearly. This helps, but I was young some while ago! A children’s writer needs to enter the world of children in order to know what matters to them, what will grab them, what will mean something to them. Visiting schools, having children and grandchildren, talking to children helps me keep up to date with the zeitgeist. I also place my writing in a world that is familiar to children. Of course, a poem can be set in a forest and that context can be understood by both adults and children. But a poem about an office, for example, would not work in the same way.  Poems can be set in places that are unfamiliar to children, but the situation has to be manipulated to be meaningful to a young audience. It’s common sense really. What a children’s writer does not have to do, despite a common misconception, is to over simplify the vocabulary used. Children are generally good with words and actually enjoy learning new words. Sometimes you need to keep the syntax straightforward but, in general, when writing for both children and adults the most important thing is that what you’ve written will resonate with those you’ve written it for!

5. Have you any tips or advice for anyone wanting to write children’s poetry?

When writing, remember what I’ve said about relating to children and their world. And always try out your work on a child who will give you honest criticism. If it’s poems you’re writing and you’d like to have them published, probably the best way to start is to submit them for inclusion in anthologies.  But do your research first and find out what the editors are looking for. This year, I compiled Moonstruck for Otter-Barry Books, to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the first moon-landing. I was sent a lot of poems, as you can imagine.  I am constantly amazed at how many poems seem to have no relation whatsoever to the brief. I had to discard quite a few that were nothing to do with the moon! I always strive for variety. So submit long poems, short poems; haiku, ballads, rhyming poems; silly poems, sad poems, serious poems. Lastly, as an anthologist I search for originality. I was sent lots of poems about the moon being made of cheese and quite a few about the moon being like a balloon – they didn’t make it into the book. I would also suggest that would-be children’s poets read some modern children’s poetry, to get a feel for what children read nowadays, and what publishers publish.

6. Do you write for adults then?

Yes I do. I’ve one adult poetry collection published as a book and two others are available as e-books. I also have a novel e-book and I’m working on a new book at the moment, which I hope will be published in 2020. Next year I’m planning to write a crime novel for adults. I am a musician and singer/songwriter as well as a writer and have three albums on Irregular Records and this year (2019) made a jazz album. I perform in acoustic venues and folk clubs.

7. Have you any more books for children planned?

Yes! Over the years, I have had three novels and 35 of my own poetry books published, some solo collections, some collaborations and some anthologies, and my poems have appeared in about 400 books. I sometimes think about slowing down, but I have had six books published in the last two years – The Waggiest Tails (Otter-Barry ) with Brian Moses, The Same Inside (Macmillan) with Liz Brownlee and Matt Goodfellow and the award-winning Apes to Zebras (Bloomsbury), a book of shape poems, with Liz Brownlee and Sue Hardy-Dawson in 2018 and I Am a Jigsaw (Bloomsbury), Moonstruck (Otter-Barry) and Be the Change, Poems to Help You Save the World (Macmillan) with Liz Brownlee and Matt Goodfellow in 2019. So slowing down seems to be just an idea at the moment! I have only two books for children scheduled for next year – my ‘best-of’ collection, which hasn’t yet found a title, and a book of poems about robots. And I will continue to run The Poetry Zone (www.poetryzone.co.uk) where children can publish their own poetry. The thing about being a poet is that it’s sometimes challenging and can take up all your time, but it’s also incredibly rewarding and fun. So I find it difficult to call it work. And I don’t really want to stop – ever!

Wombwell Rainbow Interviews: Roger Stevens Wombwell Rainbow Interviews I am honoured and privileged that the following writers local, national and international have agreed to be interviewed by me.

[mercerislandbooks]

Draft No. 4 by John McPhee

John McPhee has been doing basically the same thing for over fifty years, and been doing it so well that there’s now a name for what he helped invent: creative non-fiction. More than simple reportage, his writing is always distinctive and artistic while remaining resolutely truthful. Critic Michael Dirda says of him, “Never as flashy as Hunter Thompson or Tom Wolfe ... McPhee has always relied on prose that is fact-rich, leisurely, requiring a certain readerly patience with scientific and geographical description, and nearly always enthralling.” I might quibble with the use of the word nearly there, but otherwise spot on. Any McPhee book deserves notice, but the one he’s produced at this late stage in his career is worthy of more than usual. In Draft No. 4, he brings his full arsenal of talents to bear on the subject of his own life and work—catnip for his fans. I count myself among them, and so does the writer Matthew Fleagle, a frequent guest at Message in a Bottle. It was inevitable that we’d have a long conversation about DN4 and want to share it with this audience. Thanks in advance for your certain readerly patience.

--James

---------------------------------

Matt: I've been trying to synthesize the various points of my enjoyment of this book into something either insightful or provocative to lay on your doorstep. Clever and sweeping I left sitting in the car. Good thing, too, because even those first two have run off like unleashed hounds and won't come back. I'm left holding a book whose page edges are speckled with "archivally correct" nonstaining, bronze book darts marking chunks of advice I'd like to remember in my own writing, or phrases particularly well crafted, or judgments I strongly agree with or harbor slight anxiety about. Or just little delights that gave me a feeling of solidarity with the author. (I would start with the very title of the book and McPhee's use of the abbreviation “No.” for number, which I consider lovely and which I recently and with sadness opted not to use at work because I feared my colleagues would no longer know what it could possibly mean.) It's not that there's nothing to say about the book as a whole, it's just that I found so little controversial or even surprising in it. In fact, the only moment of disquiet I experienced was righteous anger on the author's behalf when he was confronted by misguided editors. More on those later, perhaps.

One thing I kept noticing is that this book is one big example of itself, or at least of the second chapter, "Structure." You read about how McPhee decides on an organization that best suits the material he's gathered, and then a little later, even in other chapters, you notice how anecdotes are arranged out of chronological order and what the net effect of that is, and it induces you to reflect on why he chose that structure for that section. In that way, reading Draft No. 4 felt a little like a favorite uncle explaining economics to me while slipping five dollar bills into my jacket pocket. How did the work strike you as a whole? I've not read many books on the writing process before, but maybe you have? How does it stack up?

James: I have read quite a bit on this topic in my time, but I won't mention any titles here. I don't want to embarrass the authors of those books with my stubborn refusal to put their good advice into practice. Kill my darlings? Never! McPhee's book is quite a bit different than the others I've read. Those were mostly full of prompts and exhortations, tips about priming your muse's pump and developing regular literary habits, but Draft No. 4 assumes a reader who's already a practitioner. He doesn't bother coaxing words out of you, he just talks about how you might better focus your good ideas and cope with the torrents of prose you're producing. Or more accurately, he talks about how he does those things. It's rather flattering to be treated with such respect, as though his lofty, glossy-magazine, major-publishing-house concerns are relevant to us, the grubbiest of Grub Street hacks.

So I'm not sure I'd say that these are the first pages to turn for aspiring writers. They are, however, a joy for anyone who loves to read. As he has done so many times before (more often than anyone living?) he takes up the smallest, dullest, most overlooked pebble on the shingle, holds it to the light, and makes it sparkle. Oranges? Shad fishing? What can't he do? I swear, if he decided to investigate the mysteries of colonoscopy, I would be first in line to buy that book. Luckily for the squeamish, here we're dealing with a more seemly topic, the minutiae of writing and revision. He does go pretty deep into the weeds during the "Structure" chapter you mentioned, when he discusses the careful organization of his manila folders, but it's not boring, it's humanizing and fascinating. Says McPhee, "If this sounds mechanical, its effect [is] absolutely the reverse." He's talking about his process, but he might as well be talking about this very book. Draft No. 4, like all his writing, is replete with details about how a skilled, intelligent person goes about doing what he does, and that specificity is what makes his writing so generally insightful. Even if you're not a barge captain or a tennis champion or an award-winning nonfiction writer, you can relate. After all my years behind the counter at Island Books, I couldn't help but relate to his paean to the noble typewriter, for example. And I commiserated with him through every paragraph about his long war with his editors over the appropriate use of profanity in his work. I dropped a couple of—ahem—clinical terms in a blog post half a decade ago and I still feel the aftershocks occasionally. I'm sure your sparkly pebbles were different than mine, though. Other highlights for you?

Matt: You said "different than" instead of "different from." I believe McPhee's Miss Gould would bluepencil that usage were the venerated New Yorker copyeditor not in her grave these dozen years; he says so on page 168. I must admit my nature is sufficiently compulsive that I enjoyed the discussions of the fiddly little rules and style conventions that make English such a Tartarus for some people and such an Eden for people like me and I presume you. I also like the particular way he slalomed past them. He didn't say, now these are the rules of grammar and usage I insist on. If his narrative is like a downhill ski course in which his primary purpose is to tell a number of anecdotes, the rules are rather like the poles his elbows happen to slap on his way down the hill, and often the discussion of a rule is by way of telling an amusing story about an editor or a fellow writer. Still, I fasten onto the rules themselves—can't help it—and I grin with puerile self-satisfaction to find that, for example, Mr. McPhee and I understand each other with regard to “that vs. which.” Or that we're on the same side of the coyness issue: ”He became close to a Georgetown neighbor—a young senator named John F. Kennedy”—gah! When I read about his having to defend his understanding of the possessive of “Corps” before the editors of The New Yorker, I found myself so deep in his corner on this point (it can only be Corps', say John and I) that I had to hogtie my inner Yosemite Sam to keep from popping a vein. It's shameful to use an author of such stature in this ferrety little way, but we're talking about how we enjoyed the book, yes? This is partly how.

I did feel a bit strange navigating his section on frame of reference, which in the main I thought was extremely useful, especially his image of points of reference as the lights on a night-flying airliner, a structure whose size and shape and rate of travel are implied (but not EXplied—my word) by these lights. The author makes a strong point about what we're asking the reader to do, and how we fail them, when we use cultural references that don't help them imagine the structure we have in mind. But it backfires for me. When properly caffeinated I'm okay quick of wit, but I'm never more learnéd than I am. The author took pains to illustrate why some references are too fleeting in the culture not to be stale before they reach the editor, and others too obscure ever to be useful. But throughout this section and indeed the whole book he uses references that sail over my shoulder like the can of beer that Bruce Willis tosses to Matthew Perry at the end of the movie The Whole Nine Yards (there's one McPhee would strike, I'm sure) while he himself actually seems to relish dismissing Wilford Brimley as someone he thinks no one's ever heard of. Wilford Brimley! It made me think, truly I am a Philistine if one of the few references in McPhee's book that I get is one that he says one of his students used in a giant fail. But one I did understand was Philistine, which is on his white list, and which I've just used, so I won't fall apart over this. Still, with all the reading I did in college I didn't read Proust, so I don't know what the madeleine signifies, and McPhee never tells me. It all seems a little arbitrary. I guess you have to know which parties you'll be comfortable at. Did anyone else here find Henry James' use of the word lugubrious in The Princess Casamassima distracting? As you mentioned, any book by McPhee is a delight to read. Off the top of my head, I remember smiling at “innumerate” for people challenged by digital things—the disciplinary Antipodes of “illiterate.” And “ficused over” to mean obscure cheaply and quickly, referring I guess to hiding a crack in the plaster by moving a potted fig against the wall. Maybe these are old barnstormers, but I hadn't seen either before. And the beautifully vivid line describing what it was like using a tape transcriber, which was "activated with foot pedals, like a sewing machine or a pump organ." But more than any of these details—although I've focused a lot on them—the book really delivers as a series of purposeful and constructive reflections on how McPhee delivers a story, soup to nuts, complete with omissions (the section on cutting good material out of a story is bound to cut a lot of us to the quick). And I like your assessment that, while anyone who enjoys good prose might enjoy it, this book most usefully falls into the hands of a writer who is already working on a biggish project, maybe some poor blighter already sitting on the floor surrounded by piles of scissor-cut strips of typewritten notes, manila folders at the ready. Did I say that out loud? How about you, James, were there things in DN4 that you might incorporate into your own process?

James: I’d love to say yes, but it’s hard to see how. My writing projects don’t have nearly the scope that McPhee’s do (although this blog post is threatening to move in that direction). What I take away from DN4 is mostly very general, with potential application in any field, personal or professional. Over and over, McPhee demonstrates how curiosity and close observation can reveal wonders, how talent is actually the product of effort, and how important it is to find the right tool for the job and use it well. His tools just happen to be words; yours might be bedpans or socket wrenches or Perl commands. Pay attention, take care, and keep trying. If this is a how-to guide, it’s really a How To Live.

You made fun of yourself earlier, but I’m going to stick up for mustelids everywhere and defend the ferrety picking of nits. One of the significant lessons here, as in all our man’s work, is that small details matter. You don’t get the proper Big Picture without them. I like knowing that a Union Pacific coal train is exactly seven thousand four hundred and eighty-five feet long and that a WWII-era Japanese incendiary balloon did not cross the entire Pacific Ocean and demolish a plutonium reactor at Hanford. At least not exactly.

I even like the things I don’t know. I mean, I knew about the madeleine and Wilford Brimley, but I sure as heck didn’t know until now that odobene was the perfect adjective to describe his facial hair. “Writing has to be fun at least once in a pale blue moon,” says Mr. McPhee, and his mustache fashion show was a monkey barrel’s worth.

I’m going to resist the temptation to talk about all this ad infinitum, piling up drafts of our own in double-digit quantities. Before we wrap up, though, I have to say something about the last pages of the book. My note about the anecdote that concludes Draft No. 4, the story of a meeting between a five-star general and a nondescript college kid—a young writer by the name of John McPhee (gah!)—was a simple one: “What an ending!” It inspires me to finish our conversation with a big musical number or something equally splashy. But since that ending is so great largely because it’s about the impact of what’s left out and not said, I’ll skip it.

–30–

[addhunter]

Mutants: Edgelord Supreme

March 20, 2017

Getting started writing is always the easy part. It’s the keeping at it until it’s finished that’s the super hard part. 

I could probably list about a hundred stories that I started and never finished. Some of them had super cool plots, really well thought out characters, even amazing settings and circumstances, but for some reason, inspiration would just fizzle out. I think it was that I lost a lot of motivation after the first few stories, which is why after a while I just started writing one-shots and short stories. (Until Transcend, that is.) But it wasn’t college or even in school where I learned to write well.

It was on Neopets.

Honestly, I haven’t even heard the name Neopets spoken out loud in like, five years. Every once in a while, it comes up on tumblr, but apparently it’s so so SO different now. I don’t even know if I’d like it anymore. Originally, when I signed up, it was because the eyries were dope as hell. Then I found the roleplay boards, and I was a goner.

Okay, starting at the beginning.

I’ve always been a great reader. The summer before kindergarten, I got grounded, and as I spent the week in my room, I taught myself how to read. (I think is was Amelia Badelia, if I remember right.) By first grade, I was reading the Harry Potter series, and when I was in third grade, I was reading at a college level. (Not to toot my own horn, but I was a big nerd.) 

I think a lot of me being able to write well (at least in my own opinion and my Creative Writing teacher for a semester in high school) comes from being able to read the harder books. At a younger age, I was reading those complex sentences and words and learning how to make things sound good. (That last sentence is a terrible example of that.) Combine that with an imaginative mind, and I was writing crazy stories since I was barely potty trained. 

I’m shit at grammar, though. Absolutely terrible.

Around third or fourth grade, the internet started becoming a bigger thing, and we had a tiny computer at home that took five minutes to start up. (I remember the good ol dial up days. Fantastic. I was a much more patient person, then.) After getting a McDonalds toy, I logged onto Neopets to see what it was all about. A few months in, I found the roleplaying boards, and was like, “Oh, it’s like writing stories but only with one character at a time, cool.” So I did that. I loved it. Existing in those little stories and creating a new character every time was fascinating, and I did it as often as I could. I had a few recurring characters, and an embarrassing few as well, but I kept at it. When I was ten, I somehow found myself in a roleplay guild with a bunch of college friends, and they believed me when I said I was 16 because of how well I wrote. (That was wild. I had a lot of fun in that guild. Eventually I told them I was going into fifth grade, and then they were even more impressed, and it was cool. Huge ego boost.)

I wrote my first ‘official’ book when I was in fifth grade, and it was called Mutants. It was about these kids who had been trapped and experimented on and given crazy animal-like powers. They escaped the lab and went to live by themselves and it got weird for a bit and the story’s end made no sense at all, but it was cool. It also had a finished sequel, and I think that one was called ‘Mutants 2: On the Run’. (They disguised themselves as normal humans and things got weirder, but it was more well-thought out than the first one.) Honestly, for an elementary schooler, it was pretty good, but looking back on it is downright mortifying. The main character, Flame, is an emo edgelord, and vague as hell, and nothing she does makes sense. And she’s possessed? By something??? And her boyfriend man dude (whose name I have no idea how to pronounce) is basically a velociraptor-human with wings. He’s an emo edgelord as well. He’s constantly like “She’s so cruel but I have to help her but I’m sad but she needs me we’re SOULMATES!!!!!” The only non emo dude is Feng, and he’s a big wolf boy and can’t speak English. 

Now that I think about it, Blaise might be the modern day version of the edgelord. He’s so angry all the time, and he wears black sweats every day and he swears like a sailor. Shit, I can’t get rid of him.

I got a bit off track there.

After the roleplay boards on Neopets, I moved onto a roleplay forum-based site and was a pretty high-ranking member because of my coherent posts and because I didn’t try and make every thread about me like everyone else did. And after that, I quit roleplaying and just started writing all my stories out by hand until I could get on my mom’s laptop, and then my own when I got to my senior year in high school. Some of my stories from even two years ago are pretty bad, but they still are leagues better than Mutants.

The point is, everyone has a shitty starting point. Mine was on Neopets roleplay boards. Now, I’m publishing a book about superhero kids. (Full circle, am I right?) But I learned a lot of tips along the way, and I got better. Sure, my writing isn’t like, Jane Eyre or anything, but I don’t think it needs to be.

That’s another point, honestly. Like, yes, my writing is a little more casual and relaxed, but it’s still good. I can do the flowery prose, I can do the crazy extended metaphors and page-long comparisons to galaxies and whatever else people compare love and eyes to, but I don’t think I need to. Not trying to bash those writing styles, but everyone has what works for them and their stories, and I don’t think my stories need super long descriptions about the way “his fingers grazed his arm like the way a gentle summer breeze dances across the top branches of a young sapling”. Like, no. My stories are about superhero young adults who are trying to figure out what the hell is happening in their town. They can focus on each others galaxy filled souls later.

(Or maybe I’ll write some moody side pieces. Those would be fun.)

I lost track of the point of this post. To sum it up: I taught myself to read like a nerd, learned vocab and read stories that no third grader should ever read, and wrote my first trashy action-romance at the tender age of ten. After that, I got better at writing through sheer practice alone.

And I STILL have only finished like, six stories, out of the hundreds I’ve written. 

Two of those six are the Mutants stories.

Shit.