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pixelchills · 7 months ago

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Chill's ramblings about the DCA fandom and personal feelings and issues towards TSAMS (both positive an negative):

(I'm writing this like an essay but treating it like a diary, so if I jump from subject to another, it is because I am just typing as the thoughts hit my head. Sorry for being so wordy.)

I simply feel like I need to write my thoughts down, so why not share them with you. Maybe you can validate my feelings or something, I don't know.

Intro:

So, oof, I got a fic rec from @thedenofravenpuff and I'm loving it so much I really wanna draw fan art for it...

But the problem is that it's a TSAMS fanfic and I've sworn to my name I'll never draw anything related to the show because that will make me engage with a part of the fandom I'm not comfortable with.

My biggest issue with TSAMS:

I have such complicated feelings towards the show and its fanbase and I do not wish to make my life and work more difficult because of it as it already is.

My own work and characters are already constantly being compared to TSAMS. When I first introduced Solar to my fic, he was constantly being referred to Eclipse from TSAMS. Now that the show had a character with THE SAME NAME, it has been even worse.

Dolldrop Moon has been compared to Lunar. Even though the dolldrops existed before the youtube channel was even created (and Lunar made his debut much later).

The biggest issue I've had has always been the fanbase, that takes the show as the canon for Sun and Moon from FNAF and uses it as an excuse to harass shippers like me because they think Sun and Moon are brothers.

I've first handedly seen the damage the fanbase has done to some of my friends who draw, or have previously drawn art for the show besides their own AUs and personal headcanons of Sun and Moon as lovers. I'm sorry to tag you, but @kriimhild and @fablekitty : I've seen how the immature side of the show's fans have treated you, I am so terribly sorry you've had to defend yourselves over and over again for things that were not meant to be mixed up.

I have posted some ideas of a possible Animutant Moon and Sun forming a polyamorous relationship with Solar in the future of "My Dear Daffodil" on my personal/adult Twitter account. Someone kept commenting on my posts that I was glorifying incest, because Sun and Moon were brothers and Solar was their cousin.

The post had "Animutant" in it. Not "TSAMS". These comments came from a person saying they were 19 in their profile. So it's not just kids who can't tell not every fanwork is about TSAMS. It's starting to be some adults too.

Vice versa I've had another person comment on my very clearly SFW Twitter how they're following me because I am an adult artist who draws TSAMS incest. I have never drawn TSAMS art. I ship Sun and Moon, but they're never related with family bond, because I love presenting them as lovers.

Why I ship Sun and Moon:

Because I am a hopeless romantic. I love romantic love. Every single story I write is always about love.

The only exception to this is the Poppy Playtime comic I am doing. But even then, I was originally planning for a romantic love between Dogday and the Player. Yet, I decided to leave it, and keep the relationship open for any type of representation the reader themselves will prefer.

I used to watch The Sun and Moon Show when it first started airing. I loved their playthroughs. I had a big distaste for them calling each other brothers, as well as some of the first "lore" videos they had. My biggest issue at the time was how Moon treated Sun, though. As someone who grew up with an abusive sibling, it sometimes just hit a bit too hard at home.

But it got better after Eclipse and Lunar appeared. Moon was more caring, and I started to really like his character development. There was one episode where Sun explained to Lunar that he and Moon had simply just "decided" to be brothers, despite not having a canonical relationship.

This actually made me really happy. Because the Old Moon was aroace, the love he felt was simply never meant to be romantic, but platonic. And by making Sun his brother by choice clearly indicated that Sun was always the one he loved the most - in a way that was suitable for aromantic person like him.

And it really made me enjoy the show for a while. Sun is my favourite character, and despite not always liking the way the show presents him, I always feel so much love for him, no matter the AU he is in. So I loved that Moon loved him more than anything, even if it was just platonic. Because I've always been under the impression that the canon Moon loves Sun, and is only under a virus to protect him. For me, the best part of any Sun and Moon AU is to know that Sun is the most important thing to Moon.

Why I stopped watching TSAMS:

And then that Moon I had really started to like, who loved Sun more than anyone else but just platonically, died.

It hurt so much I simply stopped watching the show. I've watched a few episodes here and there after that, but I am having a hard time liking the show the same as I did before.

Partially it's because of the fanbase. Partially it's because I don't find the lore very interesting and some of the stuff a bit repetitive. Partially it's because I am scared to see Sun eventually crumble up into madness, because he has been through so much.

I like the New Moon. He is funny and nice, what I've seen. His relationship with Solar has been interesting, and I genuinely hoped they would've been able to take the romantic route after Moon said he wasn't sure if he was aroace anymore. But as I said, I've only watched a few episodes after the old Moon died, so I don't know either of their characters that much to form any strong opinions about them. I just listen to the Monty and Puppet podcast once in a while and get a little inside to some of the lore that has been happening.

But hey, at least there's fanfics. Which is why I am rambling here today.

Fanfics:

It is a rare treat to find Sun x Moon fanfics that aren't simply just porn, or do not include reader inserts. So since my romance-filled brain needed something to fill the void, I've started reading some TSAMS fics with romance (that wasn't between Sun & Moon) and plot in them.

I know Solar was settled to be a "cousin" to the weird family tree of TSAMS. But I simply crave for Solar and New Moon to be at least queerplatonic. Solar is not from their dimension, no matter how much they decide they're 'cousins' it doesn't make him their real cousin or relative because they're not from the same world.

Sun and Moon are brothers but they technically gave birth to Eclipse, who then created Lunar so Eclipse is technically Lunar's parent and then brother and Lunar is Sun and Moon's brother and... do you see what I'm trying to say?

The family tree is so complicated that I don't think I'm a horrible person for shipping Moon and Solar and reading fics about them. Tell me if I am wrong though.

The FIC that is making me question everything:

So Puffy recommended this fic by @theinfamousdoctorf , "Eclipse Meets His Match".

I'm currently on chapter 40, and I am genuinely surprised how much I am liking this fic so far. It got everything; redemption and character growth, the representation of Sun as the good, glowing angel he is in my mind (for canon, and every AU. He is always perfect in my eyes I love him can you tell lol), slow-burn romance, drama, excitment, plot, jokes and funny moments... even if there are a lot of mentions of sex and sexual pleasure, it doesn't feel out of the place as there is so much more to it too.

Eclipse's redemption to become better and realising he is in love with Sun has been so interesting to follow. Sun deserves the love. I love when Sun is getting loved. I literally ship him with every other animatronic in the games and love it when people ship him with their self-inserts and OCs. Because I love him so much I want him to be loved in every possible universe he is in.

Even bigger bonus to this fic is the second pairing, Solar and Moon, which I already opened up about above. I don't know how much the fic is truthful to the canon lore of the show, but I wish to pretend this fic is the canon now /hj.

I love the characters and how they're written. I love the descriptions of their flaws and hopes and dreams. How vulnerable they can get. How closely they stick together. And as an appreciation for making me tearful and excited about fanfiction in such a long time, I would hope to be able to gift the author some fan art for their fic.

But I've sworn to not draw anything for the show. For my own good. I've got too many awful comments already from the fans of the show despite never doing any art for it. I am just scared it will turn things worse.

End words:

I don't know if creating a new alias would be the right choice. So my main name/account would be spared from the confusion that the show's fans seem to stirr into, where one tsams artwork turns all of the artist' work into tsams.

I don't care if the art style would be recognisible. The artist would be me, but not PixelChills. Just so I could gift something to the author of this fic that is currently saving me from the boredom of being unable to write my own.

Thank you.

(This text has been typed on my phone, so pardon for any typos).

-Chill

#pixel talks #rambles #tsams #fic rec #essay #sorry my head is simply just confused

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cards-of-rose · 1 year ago

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study tip!! how i write essays

going from a long, intensive classical education to my current history major, i've had to write a lot of papers. at this point, i can write a 5 page paper in a few hours, and just a couple weeks ago i wrote a 20 page paper in a single day. i graduated valedictorian with this method (current cGPA of 4.0!) so i thought i'd share how i write them! grab some coffee and settle in - it'll be a long post, but i promise it'll be worth it. :)

first, the topic. if you don't have an assigned topic, pick something that fascinates you, something that you could write pages and pages about. you will. if your topic is assigned, find something in it that you find fascinating. even if you find your topic completely boring, there's always something interesting to glean from it! once you find this, you'll gain motivation, and that's half the battle.

write down a basic outline. when i say basic, i mean barebones. just a vague, 3-point general idea of what you think you might write your paper about. this will guide you in your research! you don't need to worry about writing your full outline just yet.

sources. after you have a basic list of points, it's time to find sources! if they're already assigned, you can skip this step. most of the time they aren't, though. this is the most important part of your paper. you can go to google scholar to find really good academic journals and studies!

generally, the number of sources you have depends on the length of your paper! a good guide is that your amount of sources should number half the length of your paper. so if you have a 5 page paper, 2-3 is a good way to go. if you have a 20 page paper, you'll want around 10.

evidence. skim over your sources and categorize each one under the point you made earlier. this will mean you have a quick reference guide when you're writing, so you don't have to go through a big list of sources when you're looking for evidence! under each source, put a few bullet points talking about the info that you can use for your paper.

outline. this part may seem daunting. i promise, though, it's one of the easiest parts of the paper! you may feel tempted to skip it, but having an outline makes your paper sound better and makes it easier and quicker to write. use the sources and bullet point info you used earlier to fill out your outline. start broad and general, then add details as you do your research! your outline should be about half the length of your paper. don't worry about making it super scholarly - this is just for you, so make it as informal and easy to understand as you want! be stupid, throw in memes, whatever gets it written!

every outline should include an introduction, a body, and a conclusion. i can go over the structure of an outline in another post, but remember the 3 points you thought up earlier? these will form your entire outline, and eventually your essay!

finally, write! open a blank google doc and view it side by side with your outline. once you get started, it's a lot easier to finish than you'd think, especially if you took the time to outline! this is when you can make your dumb outline into something that would make the ancient philosophers proud. don't worry about perfection. just write it as you go. you can edit it later!

quotes/evidence. once you've finished your rough draft, it's time to add the evidence! some profs want quotes, others want you to paraphrase. either way, go through your paper and put in the evidence you researched earlier. don't worry about citations just yet - just put in the link in a comment on your rough draft. it won't be hard to fix it up later.

edit!! please, please don't finish your rough draft and be done with it. you can save so many points by going over it again instead of submitting it in a rushed 3am haze. fix spelling and grammar, add citations and a reference page, edit for clarity, anything you need to make it sound like the best paper you can write! if you're proud of it by the end, you know you've done something right.

congrats, you did it!! make sure you start your paper early and don't wait till the night before - your grade will thank you <3

#study motivation #essay #studyblr #writing #dark academia #school #studying #essay writing #study blog #study tips

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harmlesscigarette · 2 years ago

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Useful Guide

hi! call me harmless/cig/ciggy/rowan. u can use any pronouns for me

more about this blog below the cut!

blog organization:

i have several personalized tags for this blog so here's a break down of what you can find in each one!

Created Content vs Reblogged Content

the cig smokes : these are posts i've created myself*

the cig smokes while the pen strokes : posts that i've created that contain my own original content (need to add tag link at later time)

rebagel : these are posts i've reblogged from other creators

smoked cigs : ask box submissions

*#the cig smokes tag will exclusively be used for when i create my own posts for other people's content

Work Organization

work titles : such as essay on the appearance of ghosts or i want you to see what you do to me are typically tagged next if its an original post from me. these just help me find specific works in a body of text i have pulled content from

authors : such as cameron awkward-rich or danielle pafunda are tagged next. these help me find works under a specific author

bodies of works : such as sympathetic little monster or home body are the final tags for signposting what body of work a piece may be published under

multiple source : if there is content with multiple sources/mediums, this tag will be used instead of listing out every single title, author, body, and medium

medium : such as poetry or art signposts the medium of the content

have a laugh track : this tag is memes, funnies, and other posts that may not be poetry/art/etc. it is usually on theme though!

my face when : this tag is reaction images

to read / watch : this is content that i found interesting enough that i would like to explore it more

writing inspo : this is content that inspires me to create my own writing (though it may not go published)

important links : content that doesn't necessarily fit the theme of the blog but is important nonetheless to reblog

psa : also not necessarily blog-related, but it has nice community reminders and other announcements that pertain to online etiquette, etc

Fun Tags

self referential : literally any post i find that refers to cigarettes, cigarette burns, smoking, etc.

blorbo from my shows : sometimes i find content that pertains to my fave characters and i don't feel like reblogging to my fandom blog. these posts usually fit the blog theme though!

Love & Body

this is where we get into the more intricate tagging system! don't worry, it doesn't have to make sense to you, but they're nice little signposts for where my thoughts lead when i read a specific work. don't be afraid to ever ask what's up with a certain tag on a certain work.

is that love? : works that describe love to me

a kindred love : works that describe an incestuous love to me (if you would like further explanation on this idea, please let me know! i really love discussing the intricacies of familial love)

auto / cannibalism : works where the imagery heavily suggests self/auto-cannibalism or cannibalism of another person. the ultimate illustration of self and other-love

incorp(s)erate : the idea that eating another person means you want to incorporate their being into yourself. this is the ultimate form of self-betterment through the consumption of the other. can also just be a work that reference a body/corpses/death

taste of me on you : the idea of eating another person (cannibalism or sexual--but they are one and the same to me) and then kissing them, thus tasting yourself on their tongue

autopsy : works where the imagery heavily suggests opening up another person. this may or may not lead to cannibalism. autopsy as as a way of knowing, investigating, questioning, etc

body as vessel : works where the imagery suggests that a person's body may hold something more significant like another person, an idea, or a metamorphosis

this love is expired : works where it is suggested that some love has an expiration date

humanity is nakedness : works with nude imagery literally, or the nakedness can be the vulnerability of telling someone the truth of their own desire (touch, sexuality, love, neediness, etc)

be human with me : works with the naked imagery that also asks another person to join the narrator or main character. asking another person to be equally vulnerable

monster lovers : works where the imagery suggests someone is monstrous/evil/unlovable but someone loves them, especially because of the monstrous/evil/unlovable qualities

self contamination : works where the imagery of monsters also suggests the monster lover would like to be contaminated by the monster. this can be done through cannibalism, idea of "incorp(s)eration," and autopsy

mothers who kill us club : mothers who kill us can also be classified as monsters. and if we continue to love them especially because of their monstrous qualities, we can also be classified as monster lovers. additionally, this can also mean that loving the mothers who kill us also means we are self contaminating!

Family

lessons my mother taught me : the full tag is "lessons my mother taught me about men and life," which is a mouthful, isn't it? anyway, this is any work that seems like something a mother would tell a story and the theme would be the moral of her story. y'know, stuff your mother would warn you about as your life begins to unravel and you have to learn how to be an adult on your own

inheritance of sorrow : any work that references inheritance or long lines of generational sadness or deep darkness. misogyny, yearning... basically anything that references a dark past that has been experienced by many others (blood related or not)

lessons vs regrets : works that hint at the difference between learning a lesson and living a regret. learning a lesson implies it was rocky to get through, but somehow the narrator managed to get out unscathed. a regret is implied when there is deep sorrow, yearning, desire left over after an event that seemingly has not resolution.

Religion

great flood : this can allude to a great many things. a work illustrating a build up of emotions, referencing a period, etc OR i can just have felt an immense emotion when reading a work

lamb before the slaughter : linked with the family tags, mostly. but usually it means that someone had to be sacrificed for the "good of all others." utilitarian morals. can also be an illustration of innocence/purity prior to death

a baptism between my legs : oral sex

becoming god : a work references personal power of some degree. whether that is through killing others, eating them, creating them. usually i use it in reference to long periods of solitude and self reflection though.

#the cig smokes #important post #read me!

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wyverncult · 2 years ago

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also 001 final fantersy 003 sabin even if i know neither :)

FINAL FANTASY

001 | Send me a fandom and I will tell you my:

Favorite character: *RUBS MY HANDS TOGETHER* sabin, freya, cloud, ignis, bartz, faris, minwu, tidus, auron, kain, aymeric 🫡 im playing ffviii rn and i also like laguna and seifer. honourable mention for my bff gilgamesh too

Least Favorite character: estinien from ffxiv.... he's annoying sorry LMAO, i'm hoping he gets better later. i cant really think of anyone else. edge ffiv was a disappointment but im hoping he's better in the after years

5 Favorite ships (canon or non-canon): faris/bartz(fartz lol), cyan/sabin, edgar/setzer ... actually i dont have many ships, yuna/tidus gladio/ignis prompto/noctis cloud/zack are a given. i also don't particularly ship them but i do like the canon pairings :]

Character I find most attractive: Auron.....

Character I would marry: oh man idk. maybe sabin he'd be great

Character I would be best friends with: TIDUS YOU AND ME LET'S BE BESTIES. or sabin again he's great :)

a random thought: im not far enough into ffxiv to know whether yoshi-p's writing is truly fantastic but i think his obsession with realism & realistic battle system etc. wrt XVI is a bit strange. im still gonna play the game but ?

An unpopular opinion: I HATED FFXIV ARR so much. i know it's not an unpopular opinion but it took forever to get into ffxiv that i was genuinely concerned i wasnt going to like it. if you want to play the game just get the free trial. also the way people treat tifa wrt cloud makes me feel insane

My Canon OTP: not exactly an otp but tidus and yuna are SO cute :[ i do also like celes and locke a LOT though

My Non-canon OTP: FARTZ!!! and cybin :]

Most Badass Character: IGNIS!!!!!! episode ignis makes me feel insane. i actually didn't care that much for him until after i played the game and was like wait hes actually amazing

Most Epic Villain: as for EPIC its gotta be kefka for sure. he has the best OST and best fight for sure. i also LOVE kuja and ardyn but theyre not particularly "epic" i think

Pairing I am not a fan of: cloud/sephiroth, terra/anyone(except maybe celes..), ignis/noctis(though it might be growing on me? shrug)

Character I feel the writers screwed up (in one way or another): i could write an essay about ffxv. lunafreya deserved more screentime & from what i read what they had in mind for her was REALLY interesting and im excited to read her chapter in the novel. gladio was a bit better in episode gladiolus than the actual game... but he wasnt awful either. also, not FF, but all of the kingdom hearts portrayals of all the ff characters is HORRIBLE.

Favourite Friendship: i know yuna and tidus are a couple but they're ADORABLE friends too :[ i love them together. also prompto and noctis! zack and cloud are cute too

Character I most identify with: ohhh *scratching my head* maybe faris! with his whole thing LOL

Character I wish I could be: I NEED TO LOOK LIKE SABIN IRL 👍

SABIN RENÉ FIGARO

003 | Give me a character & I will tell you:

How I feel about this character: HES MY ALLTIME FAVOURITE FF CHARACTER all the characters in ffvi are so good but i just looove sabin and it doesn't help that soraya saga put so much love into writing him and edgar LOL

Any/all the people I ship romantically with this character: cyan of course... i've also seen people shipping him with vargas which is good too but i haven't thought that much about their dynamic

My favorite non-romantic relationship for this character: EDGAR OF COURSE their whole thing makes me. grrr. GRRR. how horrified was sabin to find out his brother formed an allyship with the very people who murdered their family. yet they were so happy to see each other once again when they reunited :[ i miss them. also edgar trying to convince his TWIN brother that he was a completely different person was hilarious. aside from him GAU!! sabin's dedication to encouraging him to reunite with his father because he couldn't have the same thing for himself & yet it was never possible grrrr. Grrrrrrr. also i think they're just hilarious LOL. despite that he doesn't exactly interact with the other characters but imagining anything with all the other FFVI cast is really fun. i really like the one DFFOO story where shelke and llyud asked sabin about edgar and he basically encouraged them to host a lengthy investigation on him all day long LMAO.

now i want to rp...

My unpopular opinion about this character: HE LOOKS BETTER WITH THE BEARD

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: in general i wish we got more content in ffvi! i wish we'd get a proper remake! or even a novel or something! if ffvi got the ffvii treatment we'd get so much more content on all the characters :[

Favorite friendship for this character: OK so i heard he's friends or acquaintances at least with shadow... but.......... i killed shadow before the WOR and i havent wanted to look up his cutscenes before my replay so i haven't thought about his relationship with him past the phantom train.... i guess favourite friendship would have to be with his brother LMFAO.

My crossover ship: none! still playing DFFOO though so maybe something will crop up 🤔

#BITING GNAWING #I LOVE YOU FINAL FANTASY!!!!#i still have a few games left to go!!! im getting there!!!#dmitri's life #ask #ask game #soukeyed

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buzzdixonwriter · 4 years ago

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I've Told You A Million Times To Avoid Cliches Like The Plague

Recently a year old re-print of a 1959 Writer’s Digest article by Donald Westlake started circulating on social media.

First off, if you don’t know who Donald Westlake is, go find out. You like rough edge crime stories, try his Parker books published under his Richard Stark pseudonym; you like funny crime, dig up the Dortmunder series under his own name; you like odd ball history, check out Under An English Heaven “being a true recital of the events leading up to and down from the British invasion of Anguilla on March 19th, 1969 in which no one was killed but many people were embarrassed.”

Second, Westlake was a serious writer in that he took the craft of writing Very Seriously indeed, no matter how light hearted and funny some of his books could be. He wrote a blistering letter (later turned into an essay) in the fanzine Xero (starts on page 97) where he excoriated the sci-fi field of the era as being neither artistically nor commercially viable.*

So who am I to challenge this master’s assertions?

Well, I take the craft of writing Very Seriously indeed myself, and to quote a late, lamented friend: “Fools rush in, and there we are…”

The Writer’s Digest article is a mixed bag, partially a quick off-the-cuff job for a few bucks, partially a valid observation on pitfalls in writing popular fiction in September of 1959.

Bear the date in mind, it’s crucial to this discussion.

This was an era when Americans read a lot. Millions of people subscribed to The Saturday Evening Post or dozens of other slick magazines (not to mention the digests, which are what the form the old genre pulps mutated into), and this meant each week dozens of new short stories or serialized novels were available to them (and that’s not counting non-fiction).

Westlake in 1959 was commenting on an over saturated market, one where too many writers and editors simply replayed old tropes over again and again because they knew a significant portion of their audience felt comfortable with them (this is particularly true in the slicks, more so than the digests).

Westlake divides his 36 plots into three groups: Mysteries, science fiction, and slicks.

My first quibble lays in what Westlake means when he says “plot”.

From the original article:

“A plot is a planned series of connected events, building through conflict to a crisis and ending in a satisfactory conclusion. A formula is a particular plot which has become stale through over-use.

“My own working definition of plot is what I call “5C.” First, a character. Anybody at all, from Hemingway’s old man to Salinger’s teenager. Second, conflict. Something for that character to get upset about, and for the reader to get upset about through the character. Third, complications. If the story runs too smoothly, without any trouble for the character, the reader isn’t going to get awfully interested in what’s going on. Fourth, climax. The opposing forces in conflict are brought together. Like the fissionable material in an H-bomb and there’s an explosion. Fifth, conclusion. The result of the explosion is known, the conflict is over, the character has either won or lost, and there are no questions left unanswered.

“5C: Character. Conflict. Complications. Climax. Conclusion.”

All well and good, but in his article Westlake provides almost no examples of same.

To me, a plot is a quick summary of a story that lays out beginning, middle, and end: G.I. Joe captures a Cobra secret weapon but doesn’t realize what it is. Cobra needs to get the weapon back without alerting the Joes to its potential, and the Joes must figure out what Cobra is after before they can get their hands on it.

(There’s a lot you can do with that plot. It can be a slam-bang action oriented story, a techno thriller, or a slapstick farce depending on your angle of attack.)

What Westlake presents are more along the lines of story springboards: ”What would happen if…”

A lot of the situations Westlake presents are rife with potential: “John Smith is sitting in the park, feeding the other squirrels, when a beautiful girl runs up, kisses him, and whispers, ‘Pretend you know me.’”

Okay, let’s list the possibilities, shall we?

She’s being stalked by a creepy guy and needs protection…

She’s been hired to set Smith up for some reason…

She’s mentally disturbed from trauma in her past…

She’s a flipping psycho intending to kill Smith…

She’s a secret agent slipping a secret code in Smith’s pocket…

She’s a silly college girl doing this on a dare, unaware Smith is a serial killer…

Six stories right off the top of my head, and each one could be played in several different ways, from deadly serious to over the top farce.

That’s a lot of potential in a single trope.

Here’s another: “John Smith, private eye, is sitting at his desk, when Marshall Bigelow, thimble tycoon, trundles in waving thousand-dollar bills and shouting, ‘My daughter has disappeared!’”

Well, d’uh, isn’t that what private eyes do? Find missing people? Or uncover who committed a crime when people don’t want the police involved? Or find out if a spouse is cheating?

Name a private eye story that doesn’t play off some variant of this. From Murder, My Sweet to Harper to Shaft, hiring a private eye to find a missing person is a perfect way to get a story started. “You find my Velma.”

Of the dozen story springboards he offers in his mystery section, none are unworkable, though two remain overly familiar to this day and probably are best avoided unless the writer can provide some incredible new spin.

The science fiction section is more problematic, and here’s where I suspect Westlake was slumming (there ought to be an article on the type of articles one shouldn’t write for Writer’s Digest that includes articles like the one Westlake wrote).

Seven of the eleven clearly reference classics of the genre, and if this wasn’t a deliberate dig at those authors on Westlake’s part, one can only argue that while they may be shopworn now due to retreads by the untalented, these ideas remain strong enough to support a good story.

The other four remain headscratchers. Two -- Adam & Eve and “atoms are tiny solar systems” -- are indeed hoary old ideas, burned off by EC comics earlier in the decade.

I can’t say there weren’t thirteen year old aspiring sci-fi writers who submitted these to publishers and editors back in the day, but they seem more likely to have been found on the pages of fanzines (i.e., what sci-fi geeks had before the Internet) than a professional slush pile.

We know Westlake was active to some degree in sci-fi fandom of that era; could those two tropes have come from seeing those stories in the pages of amateur magazines?

The remaining two ideas represent a ribald attitude I don’t recall seeing in sci-fi digests of that era.

Oh, sex was starting to rear its beautiful head in science fiction, and there were a few cutting edge stories, but these two seem more like set ups for smutty fanfic, not genuine submissions of the time.

Again, something I’d expect to see in a fanzine, not a professional market.

Like I said, I think this tips off that Westlake is having us on, that this whole article came off the top of his head in a matter of minutes instead of being carefully thought out.

On the other hand, his critique of slick magazine fiction seems pretty spot on and devastating.

While he covers several sub-genres, his primary focus seems to be on stories written for a female audience, the type found in McCall’s and Ladies Home Journal. He doesn’t come close to a dozen examples, however, as several (even those labeled as sub-examples) are just the same story springboard in different settings.

Two of his bad examples, however, stand out quite clearly as a dislike (whether personal / professional / aesthetic, I can’t tell) aimed at a specific series of stories found in The Saturday Evening Post, i.e., the Alexander Botts, tractor salesman stories of William Hazlett Upson.

One of Westlake’s verboten plots isn’t even a plot but a literary device: “Any story told in an exchange of letters”. The other one that ties into Upson’s oeuvre is “Joe Doakes, a traveling salesman for a paper clip company, gets involved in some pretty unbelievable adventures in a small town in the Midwest. The other participants are a local belle and a salesman for a rival paper clip company.”

The two combined describe Upson’s Botts stories to a T. The second one is richly ironic since Westlake eventually used the same basic premise for his Dortmunder series (the only change being Dortmunder is a thief, not a salesman; po-tay-to, po-tah-to).

Finally, Westlake left himself a huge out with “If you can take one of the 36 clichés listed above, and give it a brand new twist, so it doesn’t look like the same story any more, you may have a sale on your hands. If you search hard enough in the magazines on the stands today, you’ll find one or more of these variations currently in print.”

Look, I get it. I’ve faced deadline doom before myself, and more than once have fired off a short piece that contained all the depth of a dixie cup.

This isn’t the worst writing advice I’ve seen, but it’s far from the best, and Westlake coulda and shoulda done better.

* He wasn’t alone in his opinion, though ironically the 1960s proved to be one of the most fertile eras for the genre. Yet Westlake and other writers such as John D. MacDonald, Frederic Brown, and John Jakes left sci-fi for other genres because it couldn’t support them either as artists or professionals.

#Donald Westlake #writing #how this writer's mind works #William Hazlett Upson

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porkchop-ao3 · 7 years ago

Note

Hi hi. I've been feeling down lately. Like I'm no ones favorite. Can I have a clingy obsessed Rick?

Thank you for your patience with this! Hope this is okay. I didn’t want to go too far with the obsessive thing in case it got out of character, but I hope you like it! I was inspired by my recent uni work... But this fic by no means reflects the way I work xD

Just over 3k words!

My eyes skimmed across the words on my computer screen as I took a sip of tea, the only break I would allow myself because hey, I needed to stay hydrated. As soon as the mug was out of my hands though, my fingers were back on the keyboard, tapping away and filling the screen with more text. Of course, at this point it was all laughable bullshit; as are most essays when they’re started four hours before the deadline. Every point was being dragged out to entire paragraphs, my evidence was being stretched as much as was acceptable to back me up, I’m pretty sure I’d questioned the meaning of life somewhere three paragraphs ago but I’d made it work. I couldn’t afford to go back and change it now anyway, at least whoever had the pleasure of marking the damn thing would have a good laugh. My lecturers had said that technically there were no right or wrong answers for this particular essay, as long as I could back up what I was saying… Well, there was some kind of evidence for everything I’d said so could they really dispute me?

It was all my fault, though. I’d been drifting off to a peaceful slumber, under the sweet illusion that I was completely done for the semester, when suddenly that five thousand word essay I’d forgotten about drifted into mind and jolted me awake. That was two hours ago, and it was currently four in the morning; just two hours away from the six o'clock deadline for the online submission. I was getting there though, just another two thousand words would do it.

With a stressed sigh, I flicked through the book in front of me, searching the index for keywords, absolutely anything I could use. I just needed a scrap of evidence, a slightly relevant quote, and I’d be good for at least two paragraphs. I laughed aloud when I found something, it was bordering on delerium at this point. I was back on the keyboard then, bashing out my next point, just letting the bullshit part of my brain run with it, barely registering what I was typing. I barely even flinched when the darkened room lit up with green light, I just sighed again, my fingers never pausing.

“Not now, Rick.” I said, narrowing my eyes at the screen, my concentration lapsing momentarily, making me forget my flow.

“Oh, oh wow, th-thanks, that’s really -urrghhh- nice.” Rick slurred behind me, and I knew straight away that he was hammered. I rolled my eyes and read through my last few sentences as I tried to tune him out. “I thought you said you were done, on- on the phone you said y-you were fin-ugh-shed.”

“Yeah, then I remembered this entire essay I had to do.” I murmured, what little I had left of my concentration shattering as I felt the warmth of his presence lean over me to look at the screen. His chest brushed my shoulder and he reached an arm out to lean on the desk, shrouding me in his presence.

“Uhhh, are you high? A-are you even reading what you’re writing right now?” He commented after a moment.

“No. To both of those questions.” I told him, carrying on with the essay despite his quips.

“I thought, urp, you were studying art, not ph-philosophy. That’s some deep shit you’re playing with there, what is your essay even supposed to be on?”

“Please Rick, just let me get on with this. If you’re here to get laid then come back tomorrow. Or in two hours, whatever, I don’t care. Just after this is done.” I grumbled. Rick made a sound of irritation, then straightened up, distancing himself from me. I heard him stumbling around the room, fiddling with stuff I couldn’t see. Then I heard the telltale trickle of liquid on metal as he took a drink from his flask.

“Just wanted to see you, s-sorry I’m such a- such a fucking inconvenience.” He said under his breath. I felt a spark of guilt, then brushed it off just as fast. My work had to come first on this occasion.

“I’ll be done soon.” I said, discarding the book in front of me and replacing it with a different one. Fresh book, fresh evidence.

Rick came back over to my desk, picking up a piece of paper, which I knew to be the essay brief. He then proceeded to flick through some of the other papers on my desk, notes, pictures, plans; all hastily done and probably illegible to anyone but me… and even I struggled to read it.

“S-so you gotta compare these two photographs?” He asked. I nodded, not looking up at the images he was showing me. “You talked about how one was taken by a woman and one was taken by a man? Y-you could, urp, could make somethin’ out of that, right?”

“Probably, toss the idea of feminism around and I could get about six hundred words done. Thanks.” I said, making a quick note of the idea in pencil on the closest piece of paper; the textbook. Rick grabbed a chair from the other side of the room and took a seat next to me, slinging an arm over the back of my chair.

“You wrote the word ‘interesting’ three times in the same sentence, there.” He told me, pointing to the screen. “You could change the third one to impactful, think that’d work.” He murmured, disinterestedly yet focused.

“You’re helping me?” I asked, finally looking at him for the first time since he’d arrived.

“Two heads are better than one.” He shrugged. “Would it help you finish faster?”

“I think so. Hell, I might even pass.” I snorted.

“Alright. Let’s get this done, then we can make out, how’s that sound?” He said distractedly, fiddling with a strand of my hair. I raised a brow at him.

“You’re acting strangely.” I noted. “You’re being… nice.”

“Wh-ugh-at, and I’m a cunt for the other three-hundred-and-sixty-whatever days of the year?” He slurred.

“No! You’re just nicer than usual.” I shrugged, turning back to the screen.

“I miss you.” He told me, his voice so quiet I barely heard it. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder more tightly and pulled me into his side. My eyes widened and I sat there, rigid under the unexpected contact. With the proximity, I could smell the alcohol on him, and was convinced that it was to blame. “I’ve barely seen you for two weeks.” He added, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“All my deadlines…” I trailed off. I didn’t need to explain, he knew.

“Still think you should drop out. School is bad enough, but art school?” He scoffed.

“Hey, it’s another three years I don’t have to worry about starting a proper career.” I told him, twisting to nestle into his chest, essay momentarily forgotten.

“Sure, but is it worth the thousands of dollars?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” I sighed and closed my eyes, the fact that it was past four in the morning hit me in the form of sudden fatigue. “Let’s not talk about it.”

Rick’s hand stroked up and down my upper arm, his other hand feeding more alcohol into his mouth. He placed his flask down on my desk then reached for my chin, tilting my head up and kissing me, I responded for a while, leaning into him and enjoying the sensations. I knew I had to stop eventually though, and with a groan I turned my head towards to screen, breaking the kiss. Rick didn’t stop, spreading his kisses over my cheek and temple, down to the side of my neck. I sighed at the attention, but pulled away, turning to face the computer and attempting to get back to work. Rick’s arms encircled my waist, his kisses moving to the back of my neck and the curve of my shoulder, my body tingled and I longed to give him my undivided attention, but the clock was ticking.

“Okay, next point. Feminism.” I said under my breath, trying my very best to ignore what was going on behind me, but Rick wasn’t making it easy for me. His hands found their way to my breasts, squeezing them through my long nightshirt. My nipples hardened against his palms, and I chewed on my bottom lip.

“Remember, there are words other than 'interesting’.” He mumbled into my shoulder, and I snorted, backspacing on the keyboard as he caught me red handed.

“Thank you.” I said, my tone strained. Rick was quiet for another paragraph, silently distracting me with his touch, his persistent kisses egging me on, lighting a fire under me to get this shitty essay done so that I could be with him. I flicked through the book, finding a vague quote about female photographers. Perfect.

“S-sit on my lap, come on.” He whispered to me.

“What? No, I thought you wanted me to finish this quickly.” I laughed, gasping as he slid his hands under my shirt, resting his cool hands on my stomach.

“Come on.” He repeated, pulling me towards him. I gave in, sliding onto his lap, appreciating his little hum of approval as I did. I leaned back against his chest, and surprisingly I found that the rise and fall of his chest helped to focus me, and before I knew it I had another paragraph. I was close to the end; I could see the light at the end of the tunnel and all I needed to do was conclude. I saved the document, just in case, then skim read the entire essay. Sure, it was a fucking trainwreck from start to finish, but it would suffice. I made a mental note of the points I’d made, then made a start on my conclusion.

“Almost there.” I said, biting on my lip as I summed up my essay, pulling it all together to create what I hoped would be a convincing conclusion. A few hundred words later, and it was done, with an hour to spare before the deadline. I was on the low end of the word count guideline, but it would have to do. I checked my references, made sure my bibliography was in order, and loaded up the essay submission page.

“Aren’t you gonna read it back?” Rick asked me, his hands sliding down to my thighs.

“I don’t think it’ll make much difference at this point.” I said, uploading the file. “It’s better than nothing, right? At least I’ve produced an essay.”

“Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” He chuckled. I rolled my eyes and clicked 'submit’, immediately closing down the page along with all my other windows, putting the whole ordeal to the back of my mind as I shut the computer down.

“Whatever, it’s done now.” I said, feeling the weight lifting from my shoulders with those words.

“Finally.” Rick said, standing up and forcing me to do the same. He dragged me over to my bed by my wrist and pulled me on top of him as he threw himself down. He kissed me, pushing his tongue past the easily broken seal of my lips, moaning into me. His hands explored my body, feeling me all over like they were starved. “Mm, missed this.” He broke away to tell me, but not for long. He rolled onto his side, grabbing my thigh and hooking it over his hip, putting our groins close together. He ground into me, and I felt his growing erection against my core.

“Rick.” I protested. “This is all you’ve been waiting for?” I asked, irritation clear in my voice. Rick didn’t stop his grinding, groaning quietly.

“Please.” He sounded unusually desperate, and I raised a brow. When I didn’t respond, he slid his hand into my underwear, rolling my clit beneath his fingers in lazy circles. “It’s been so long…”

“It’s been two weeks. I’m tired. I just want to cuddle.” I whined, but that didn’t stop me from effectively riding his hand, tilting my hips into his touch. His fingers moved down, sliding between my slick folds and entering me. I cursed under my breath and clung to his lab coat.

“I want you. Fuck, you’re wet.” He whispered to me, thrusting his fingers, groaning when I tightened around him, my breath catching. “Let me…” he trailed off, his other hand going to his fly, freeing himself from the confines of his pants, he stroked himself as he pleasured me. I gave my approval by pushing his coat from his shoulders and lifting his shirt over his head. He kicked his pants off onto the floor then came close to me, pulling my panties aside.

“Woah, slow down.” I laughed, bracing a hand on his chest. I pulled my nightshirt over my head and tossed it behind me, meanwhile, Rick was pulling my panties down my legs.

“I need to- oh, fuck.” He sighed, staring at my body. He leaned in to kiss me again, a hand on the back of my neck. “How did I go so long without this? Y-you’re like fuckin’… Crack. C’mere.” He urged me closer, thrusting his cock between my legs, letting it slide across my pussy. I wrapped my leg around his hips and nestled closer.

“Do it.” I told him, my words little more than an exhale. I didn’t have to ask him twice, he sunk into me slowly, inch by sweet inch he filled me up. “Oh yes…” I sighed, my eyes falling closed. There was a slight sting, having been a while since we’d done this, but it mingled with the pleasure so nicely.

“Have you touched yourself these last two weeks?” He asked me.

“I’m sorry?” I exclaimed, confused and taken aback by the question.

“I wanna know if- how many times you came without me since the last time we did this.” He said, and I flushed, involuntarily rocking my hips.

“Not even once.” I told him truthfully.

“Mmm, bet you’re sensitive, hmm?” He asked, his fingers returning to my clit as he started moving, rocking into me at a moderate pace that showed little patience. I was grateful for it.

“Yes. I want you to make me cum.” I told him, wrapping my arms around his neck and threading one hand through his hair. He thrust harder, quickening his pace early on and groaning throatily.

“Fuck.” He spat, his free hand clinging to my thigh. I pulsed my muscles around him, feeling shockwaves of pleasure each time, I let my head roll back as I bucked my hips to meet his thrusts, trapping his hand between our bodies. “Ohh god, you’re so gorgeous. So fuckin’ perfect, fuck.”

It turned into desperate, unrefined rutting, but neither of us had the intention of drawing this out. This was needy. Desperate. Purely lust-fueld. I needed release, and I needed to feel Rick cum inside me. I hadn’t realised how much I had needed this, and now that I was getting it, I couldn’t get it fast enough. Rick kissed my throat, leaving sloppy wet marks across the column of my neck, then he bit down on my shoulder. He sucked and licked at me, tasting the salt of my perspiration. His fingers moved purposefully over my clit, rubbing it tight, quick circles that wrung the pleasure out of me effortlessly.

“Cum. I want you to squeeze my- squeeze the cum out of my balls, baby.” He growled, and his words alone sent waves through my body, dizzyingly intense pleasure that pushed me to the edge. “Mmm, feel how wet you are for me, did you miss this?”

“Yes, Rick.” I nodded wildy, hanging off the edge, ready to plummet. With one particularly rough thrust of his hips, I was gone. “Rick!” I called his name loudly, completely forgetting about the thin walls of my dorm room. My pussy throbbed around him, contracting with an orgasm that I could only describe as perfect. It felt like it would go on forever, building with an intensity that made my eyes squeeze shut. I wasn’t even finished when Rick joined me, and I drew his climax into me, welcoming it with a satisfied groan.

We came down together, slowing to a stop and letting our bodies slump against the bed. Rick pulled out of me and proceeded to stroke his softening cock against my opening, smearing his seed in a display of vulgar pride. I couldn’t bring myself to care.

“Mmm, look at that.” He commented quietly, spreading my lips with his fingers and watching the mess he was making with interest. I left him to it, closing my eyes and letting the sleepless nights from the previous week catch up with me. Rick pressed a couple of kisses to my forehead, letting out a satisfied sigh. The bed shifted as he got up to leave, and I was momentarily offended, until I heard the bathroom door opening. He returned a moment later with a washcloth, and gently cleaned us up. I hummed appreciatively, pulling him back over to me, he dragged the duvet with him and covered us up.

“So you missed me, hmm?” I said tiredly, a little smile on my face.

“Don’t get any ideas.” He warned, but wrapped his arms around me regardless.

“You love me.” I smirked. The only response I got was an exasperated sigh. I laughed to myself, and tucked my head under his chin. “Goodnight.”

“It’s half past five in the morning.” He commented in amusement. “We might as well start the day at this point.”

“Fuck that. I’m sleeping through till next week.” I said. He grunted, then pecked the top of my head.

“Well done, for getting all your shit finished.” He said, though it sounded like it pained him to say it. I smiled regardless. “Glad to have you back.” He added, punctuating his words with a squeeze of his arms.

#rick and morty #rick sanchez x reader #fanfiction

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jleighwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Through the Looking Glass [Unedited]

Quen inspected himself in the glowing mirror, knowing that the reflection was truly his own. He stood at 5 foot 8; a bit short, but he didn't mind. His ochre skin was clear and his hair was cut into a clean blowout. Apparently that was popular back in the 20's. His amber-colored eyes gleamed back at him, tarnished only by the dark circles underneath. Many of his acquaintances had gotten rid of theirs, but he liked how it made him feel human.

When he was finished getting ready for the day, he stepped into the hall and made his way to one of his family's augmented reality chambers, or ARCs for short. When he reached the door, he took out his personal ID and held it in front of a small screen next to the door. It beeped once before flickering to life.

"Quenton Jarod Harris, Junior attending Paulson R. Stewart High. Would you like to begin Classes for the day?" it asked in a robotic voice.

"Yes," he replied.

"Creating Scenario… Connecting to server… Finalizing… Start-up complete. Have a good day, Quenton Harris."

He swung the door open and was met by a bustling school hallway. Dozens of beautiful faces were chatting with each other, walking past each other, and scrambling to finish assignments that should've been done the night before. He let the door creak shut behind him and it disappeared into the wall. He hadn't taken two steps before the robotic voice was back.

"Message received. Sender : Juulia Brewer. Would you like to open the message?" Quen let out a heavy breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He regretted having skipped coffee this morning. The system repeated itself, "Would you like to open the message?"

"Yes."

An opaque, digital, blue message box appeared before him. As he walked, it stayed in the same position, phasing through classmates as he went, but they didn't flinch. To be fair, they couldn't even see it on their side.

Morning!! :DDD

In cafeteria.

Meet there??? uwu

Quen rolled his eyes at the emotes. Juuls had an obsession with "Millennial Texting", as she called it. In fact, she was kind of a nerd for it. She was the only one that had taken an interest in that era. American History classes taught them that the first 30 years of the century were dark times, but somehow Juulia managed to find light in them.

He reached out and pressed the X in the top right corner of the message box, causing it to blink away. "Hey, Google?" he called.

"What can I help with?"

"Teleport me to the Cafeteria."

"Sure. Now teleporting Quenton Harris to the cafeteria."

The noises and sight of the hallway faded into a blue void. Here, it was relaxing. Here, he could breathe easy. And just like that, it was gone. The void transformed into the cafe and the garbled mess of voices was back.

He scanned the faces before him one by one, trying to discern his friend in the sea of Glowing radiance. On the days that he had to use ARC, it was always significantly harder to recognize Juulia. With ever-changing hair colors and styles, vast varieties of makeup, and feature correction, the only way he could tell the difference was when their name appeared in front of them when he met their gaze.

A girl sitting a few tables down stood up and began to wave her arm around; he didn't have to see her to know it was Juuls. Disregarding the built-in recognition program, the greeting was a dead giveaway. She did this almost every morning, whether in person or through ARC.

He made his way through the crowd, literally. Instead of bumping shoulders with people, their holograms simply phased through him. The chamber, however, did produce realistic copies of inanimate objects. He plopped down on the nanobit replica of a bench at his school's lunch table.

"What's up?" he asked.

"Oh. Em. Eff. Gee. You literally took forever, lol," Juulia replied. A couple students around the two of them glanced their direction, giving them odd looks.

"Proximity chat," Quen reminded her. He took a moment to adapt to her new look. He assumed that she had been trying to look like one of those 'E-girls' that she was always on about. With neon pink hair, a beanie, and dark makeup, she looked completely different than she did yesterday.

"Oof. They just don't have good taste. The 20's were so… Lit."

"That's new."

"What? Lit? It just means, like, cool, but better."

"You're so weird."

"Pog."

And with that, the bell rang. Immediately, he was sucked back into the loading void briefly before being spit out into his first class of the day. He took his seat as the teacher appeared in the room. She was beautiful and could pass for 25, though she was actually 20 years older.

"Alright everyone, sit down please. Today, we'll be talking about why we're here. We all know that the early years were just about as bad as they could get. But they had some major influence on how things work in modern day."

Juulia would be bouncing off of the walls if she were here right now. Fortunately, she didn't have this class until after lunch. He was spared of her over-enthusiasm for now.

"Did you know that ARC was developed a few years after the events of the Covid 19 pandemic? It took a while, but when it was released to the public it was an instant success. Can you believe they used to hold classes through video chats on a computer?"

A hand in the back went up. The teacher motioned towards the student, urging her to ask her question. "What's a computer?" It seemed that everyone had been wondering the same thing, Quen included, because they all shifted their vision from the student to the teacher.

The teacher chuckled. "It was a large device that used to be kept on desks before technology was integrated into Glass."

"They only had technology on the 'computer'?" another student asked.

"I mean, they had other forms of technology. They had smart watches, smartphones, smart TVs… But most of their time connected to the internet was spent on a computer or on the smartphone, which is what we now call our Shard."

Quen had to admit, everything about the early 21st century was something else. But where it intrigued Juuls, it brought up a bad taste for him. To him, it was just the beginning of the death of authenticity.

After what felt like hours of droning, the class was finally wrapping up. Google's voice broke him from his thoughts. "Message received. Sender : Crystalinne Harris. Message saved for later."

"I've sent an assignment reminder to all of you. Your homework is a 500 word essay on what 'Facebook' was before it created Glass."

He scoffed at the assignment before the next bell rang, whisking him off to his second class.

When the final bell of the day rang, the low hum enveloping him whirred into silence as ARC powered down. Without the machine running, he stood in a room made up of nanobits. The tiny metal balls made up the walls, floor, ceiling, and even this side of the door. All of them worked to create the illusion of being in an actual school, when in reality, he'd been inside a room no more than 10 feet wide and 10 feet long all day.

He stepped out of the chamber and made his way into the kitchen, where he was met by his mother and father. "How was school today?" She asked. His father pulled a latte from the Keurig and sipped it as he waited for a response.

"It was alright. Just another day," he replied, "Dinner smells good."

"Oh, yeah. They delivered lemon pepper steak and asparagus today. All of our portions are already in the oven."

"That's… Lit," he said, a smug sense of pride flickering within.

"That's funny, son. Haven't heard that since Gran was alive. Get that from, what's her name? Jessica?"

"Juulia. Yeah." His father's beard was getting shaggy, he noticed. Since he had started using Glass, he had been letting it grow out. Seemingly, it didn't bother him much any more. His father had been adamant about leaving Glass alone for most of his life and had taught him to do the same, but when Grey hairs began to appear, he decided to finally give in.

Honestly, he wasn't surprised. Glass was wildly popular internationally. It had originally been bought out by the American government in 2040, probably for facial tracking, and integrated into every single building since then. It was everywhere. He and his dad were two of only six or seven people that he knew of that didn't use it. But now, he couldn't even say that.

After dinner, he had decided to take a hot shower. The water on his skin felt nice and he let the steam relax his muscles. When he finished, he dried off and wrapped his towel around his waist. Stepping in front of the mirror, a pleasant chime sounded.

"Glass activated," a voice with a programmed British accent sounded through the surrounding speakers. The edges of the mirror lit with a white backlight and menus appeared on the screen in glowing, white letters. A box formed around his face, his name appearing above it. "User : Quenton Harris detected. Set nickname : Quen."

He began to comb his hair into place when the voice rang out, "Quen, would you like to use the Autofix function?" A white bar highlighted the "Autofix" option on the menu.

"No," He replied sternly.

He finished with his hair and quickly brushed his teeth. When he smiled so that he could check them, the voice came again, "Light enamel stains detected. Would you like to use the Autofix function?"

"No."

It was irritating to hear it trying to coerce him into using it, knowing that it used that method to get so many people addicted to it. He simply shook his head. That's how it starts. A quick fix here, a minor upgrade there…

He pulled on a sleep shirt and some sweatpants, tossed his towel into the laundry chute, and headed for his room. He needed to write his essay and get some rest for the next day. It would be Tuesday, which meant live classes.

Quen's alarm beeped, rousing him from his slumber. He sat up in bed and stretched, before lowering himself to the floor. "1, 2, 3, 4…" he counted the sit-ups in his head as he started his quick morning workout routine. He had always been physically active. Staying healthy had been a big goal for him. The way things were now, even with the best Healthcare, people hardly ever made it past their 50's. He wouldn't let himself be a victim of the system.

50 sit-ups, crunches, and push ups later, he stood up. Began getting dressed for the day. A white button up and a tie, he wanted to look nice. Of course, Glass attempted to goad him into Autofixing himself, and just like every other day, he had none of it.

Finally, he felt confident. He was ready for the day. He grabbed his backpack from the back of his desk chair after ensuring that his report on Facebook was packed. Since he was heading out of the house, he also snagged his Shard from the charging pad and shoved it into the pocket of his black jeans.

He strode down his driveway and stopped next to his mailbox. After a few minutes, a large, white bus with no windows arrived. He climbed in and heard a chime over the bus' speakers. The British voice spoke, "Quenton Harris has boarded."

He made his way to an empty seat and plopped down. The first thing he noticed, like always, was the smell. An amalgam of body odors swirled around the cramped space, making him sick to his stomach.

Inside the bus, you could see the surroundings on the installed Glass screens, almost like windows. He turned his focus to the passing buildings as he tried to block out the horrendous scent surrounding him. He was one of the last stops, so he wouldn't have to endure it for very long. He slid his Shard out of his pocket and began to read the day's headlines. The war overseas was still raging on, as expected. The weekly universal paycheck rate was 31 dollars more than the last. And another round of the Meta-Vaccine was going to be made available before fall, hopefully to prevent as many infections as possible.

The bus rolled to a stop in front of the real Paulson R. Stewart High. When the doors creaked open, the automated voice announced that it was time to evacuate. He passed by the empty driver's seat and stepped out onto the curb, letting fresh air flow into his lungs. For the first time since last Thursday, he smiled.

Quen enjoyed the few moments he had in the outdoors as he strode to the entrance. Biding his time, he held the door open for other students. Unfortunately, he knew he had to go in.

He stepped into the real hallway, which looked almost exactly the same as it did in the ARC replica. There were three main differences. First, the smell. Just like on the bus, it was everywhere. It absorbed every crevice, every corner. It was disgusting. As much as it bothered him, no one else seemed to mind.

Second, the students he saw today were nothing like the ones that had been in his simulation yesterday. Where beautiful faces surrounded him before, he was now engulfed in a sea of low effort. Hair was frizzy, tangled, and out of place. Clothes were wrinkled and stained. And the worst, it was obvious that most of his classmates didn't take care of themselves. They were supposed to reach the peak of their physicality at ages 16 through 18. If this is what "peak" looked like, he understood why the average life expectancy was decreasing.

Third, Glass was everywhere. It made up all of the windows, all of the mirrors, and even lined the walls in some places. It kept track of each student as they navigated the hallways. The 'Assistant' feature was turned off, which meant no obnoxious voice trying to pressure him into anything, but it still worked it's magic in the reflections. Each user's Autofix settings synced up with every Glass that was linked to the system, which was - legally - all of them.

It disgusted him, the way people walked around, acting all high and mighty. Just because they never had to see their true selves didn't mean that no one would. The problem was, they didn't care. After graduation, They would be assigned a home, a mate, and a job. And after that, the only ones that would have to see them would be their direct family. All other interactions would be carried out in ARC, which had a partnership with Glass.

These moments, here, in Paulson R. Stewart High, were the last bits of his fleeting reality. Someone bumped into his shoulder, causing him to stumble out of the way. A bigger guy wearing a pair of eyeGlass gave him a strange look. "Sorry, man. Hard to tell the days apart," his apology sounded genuine, "Your fix looks nice."

"Don't worry about it. And thanks, but it's not an Autofix," Quen replied. The guy chuckled for a moment before tilting his head down to peek over his eyeGlass.

"No kidding. Well, good for you, man. Between you and me, they really need to get it together," he said, looking over the crowd. He shifted his gaze back to Quen, "Compared to us, they look pretty rough."

The sad thing was, he probably hadn't seen his true self in years. "Yeah, man. Well, see you around." Quen left him behind and began walking towards the cafeteria. There was only one person he wanted to talk to.

An arm linked through his, and through a haze of vanilla scented perfume, a familiar voice chimed, "Bruh, you got here earlier than me today. That's wack." He didn't have to look to know who it was. When he turned to her, he was engulfed by her radiance. She was authentic. She was real.

#short story #sci fi #writing #fiction #technology #future #Spotify

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allsystemsarenotgo · 5 years ago

Text

“The Novel”

I've been needing to talk to somebody about something. Last night, somebody I don't talk to very often anymore was willing to give up some sleep to talk to me.

I gave them the abridged version. I knew they needed sleep and didn't have time for a novel.

Here is "The Novel".

---

A child learns their name by having it spoken to them repetitively.

A pet learns its name by having it spoken to them repetitively.

When bullies call you gay and queer repetitively because you've never had a date much less a girlfriend in 12 years, ... At some point you begin to believe it.

When that trend continues to a statistic of 3.25 years of relationship out of 30 years of life.....

You begin to question the things you ever thought you knew.

I was an opinionated ass in high school that knew better but did the things anyways because I had nothing to really lose. Except I did lose alot of pride along the way.

I didn't like many things, and I didn't understand the decisions of many people. There are days that I wish I was still friends with people that I alienated or that alienated me because I didn't believe in drinking alcohol or having kids before college, or at a young age at all.

There are alot of days that I wonder....will I have to be find a lady 8-10 years younger than myself to love me for who I am...and potentially make them have kids at a young age so I'm not the age of their peers' grandpa's when they graduate?

^ That image was me in high school.

I never dated in high school. I courted and got shot down a ...couple... times. I didn't go to parties, I wasn't a part of the cool kids' clique. I didn't really....do anything high-schooley in high school.

And it got me bullied. My eccentricities made me well known. I was generally outspoken and firm on what I believed (no sex, no alcohol, scientifically agnostic) and...it basically made me live in infamy. It got me bullied alot. I was called gay and queer alot. And it wasn't just from 1 or 2 or 5 people.

I had 3 crushes in high school. Two were a grade younger than I.

The first I asked out my Sophomore year. We talked alot, sat next to eachother, did classwork together. We were both above-average students, so the teacher us let us do what we wanted while she dealt with the rest of the class.

That was really what entered me into the downward spiral of depression. I'd never asked a girl out before, much less been shot down. It took me a long time to get over that.

The second I asked out my junior year. We didn't have any classes together, but I had worked my way into her family via a mutual friend. I felt like we knew eachother fairly well.

Getting shot down by her didn't hurt as much as I thought it would. But given the nature of high school, the backlash of her friends and friends-of-friends, and probably half the school altogether...that is what hurt. It showed the true colors of many whom were already primadonna status, approaching it, or (falsely) thought they had it. She did apologize to me after a period of time, and ultimately, she probably made the better decision.

I never asked my third crush out. After being shot down twice in two years, I didn't want it to be three for three. I worked with her, and we got along awesome. Maybe not asking her was a fatal flaw in my life. I will never know. We have stayed friends over the years despite not seeing eachother until earlier this summer. I met up with her twice, and both times wrenched my emotions. I've since found out she is actually taken, which shot down my chance of ever knowing the true answer.

Then I finally went to college.

I went from a school of 450 kids in a town of 360 people to a dorm of 500+ kids in a college of 10,000+.

But I did not change with the scenery. I was still outspoken.

Neither of my roommates liked it.

Neither of my roommates liked me.

I was outspoken enough to write a persuasive essay on Abstinence for my college English class. I didn't see the problem.

Until the Prof said we had to read them aloud, after she had graded them.

Then I panicked. I crashed and I burned.

I felt so....little and insecure.

I wasn't one to force my thoughts on people. Yet, I just had.

Do you know how bad that feels inside?

Pretty damn bad.

One day, I got a message from a high school friend I hadn't talked to in a while. We started talking. In the end, she admitted she had a crush on me through high school and asked if we could give it a try. I was 1.5-2 hours away from home.

It was a hard juggle, but we made it work as best as somebody that'd never had a GF before much less a LDR could.

After a few months of LD dating and the start of my second year of college, a topic came up that would change the rest of my life mentally.

And something clicked in my head.

- What if this girl was 'the one'?

- What if something happened. Would I want to die a virgin?

- What if this doesn't work out. I'll always be the inexperienced one?

That last one hit me hard. There was no way around the fact. And for what I knew, I knew that being the lesser experienced would likely never be a good thing.

(10 years later, a friend put it perfectly....)

I convinced myself to break something that I had let run my life for the previous 10+ years.

I think it's safe to say that very few peoples' first time is "great". But it's a learning experience.

-learn-

Then we broke up after 9 months.

We rarely saw eachother, it couldn't be that difficult to get over right?

Wrong.

-sulk-

-lonely-

-stressed-

-imbalanced-

And...

-addicted-

I was broken. The fire inside of me had been lit, and nothing was putting it out.

I had a raging wildfire spreading within me within a few short weeks, and no way to control it.

I had just started a job at the school newspaper, running the website. I shared an office with the two graphic design artists. We were getting along pretty well and it was fairly evident that both of them were really relaxed and loose about what they wanted to talk about. I was the reserved one, sitting at my desk, listening with minimal contribution.

Until one day, I finally had the courage to chime in to their conversations. It didn't take much longer before I was in my second relationship.

I learned alot of new and different things during that 2.5 year relationship.

Example: telling her father about my shellfish allergy. It was good because he cooked alot of it. It was because he knew my weakness and made no secret that some things would easily justify using it against me.

I learned to get over my fear of public image. I was dating a woman almost twice my weight. When we first started...dating...I was petrified to be seen with/around her much less hold her hand. Over time that phobia subsided.

I learned that addiction comes in many forms. I spent many nights at her apartment, sometimes I went home and sometimes I didn't. Spending 4 hours a day with her at work and another 4-12 hours with her at her apartment...it got to the point that I missed her when I was away from her. I missed having her company, and I missed cuddling.

I learned that I'm very much a physical contact person. After all those years of being an only, lonely child...I wanted to give and receive physical touch.

She would print off a piece of artwork, I would lay on my stomach on her bed, and she would trace the outline onto my back, then start filling it in. That's usually when I would fall asleep. She would keep drawing as I slept, and eventually I would wake up.

As long as we were touching, I was happy. Sometimes I would lay on her, sometimes she would lay on me, sometimes we'd be side by side with a leg on the other.

I learned that calculated risks are worth calculating to the limit. And that mis-calculating is not fun.

I learned that parents are smart and figure out almost everything.

There was only one real issue and one hybrid issue with the relationship.

Both of us were mentally strained. I could not speak my emotions or feelings. I couldn't handle the 'adulting' conversations regarding the future. I couldn't explain when I was sad, mad, upset, or anxious in voice, only text. I couldn't "use my words". When scolded, I just wanted to ball up in a corner and cry. At the same time, both of our academics were on a downward spiral of death. She ended up dropping out completely and going back to junior college, I ended up changing majors twice and barely escaping with any pride left at all and a very expensive piece of paper that said "Bachelor of Science in Miscellaneous Bullshit". Okay, University Studies...but same thing.

The relationship had evolved far beyond what it had originally been intended to be.

It was supposed to be more of a cover-up for a FWB situation than an actual relationship. But we caught some sort of feelings, and....

I've been single since then.

It took a few years, but we still talk to eachother and are still friends.

But I miss the cuddles.

I miss the touching.

I miss being relaxed and falling asleep while being drawn on.

I miss...alot of things.

I had a few more crushes develop during college. Some I let go, some I got turned down on. At least none of them laughed at me.

One of the ones that I let go...I reconnected with a couple months ago. I was going to ask her out...and I kinda did...only to find out that she was secretly in a relationship that hadn’t gone public yet. That was a pretty good kick to the twig and berries, knowing that I was just too late to the party.

Once I learned about High Functioning Autism, alot of things made sense. I slowly learned better coping mechanisms. I learned to do more "normal" things like making eye contact.

My senior year of college, I met an awesome lady in my coding class. We got along great. She helped crack my shell. We went on walks, we played basketball, we played on pool tables, we played soccer. We sat on balconies and talked. We kind of...had a thing going. She was my only friend to attend my college graduation. We even took a picture together in my cap and gown (which I have tried many times to find. I'm guessing it was deleted....see below).

But we didn't. I wasn't allowed to hug her much less kiss her, even on the forehead (I wanted to...many times). I was barely allowed to hold her hand.

I got shot down. I felt like I was in a plane that was missing a wing and didn't have an ejection seat.

I plummeted into the ground and crashed and burned.

We stopped talking after that.

I still don't know what exactly I did wrong.

I could say that about many friends that I have lost over the years.

I still don't know what exactly I did wrong.

That was 5 or 6 years ago. I honestly don't remember anymore.

That's how long I have been lonely.

That's how long it has been since I went on a date.

That's how long I have not been able to have an unweighted conversation.

Sure, I have seen my second ex a time or three. But it's not the same. That's not a date. That's not something to lead to the future.

I have a two best friends that I can talk about almost anything with. But I never see them. One lives two states away, the other lives several hours away (any other state besides Texas, and they'd be in another state).

They help. They give me a method to vent. But I am afraid of losing them.

I have lost 3 best friends in my life already.

One cut me out of their life as a birthday present to me after 4 or 5 years, my freshman year in the dorm.

One cut me out of their life after many conflicts over 7 years. We never met in person.

One cut me out of their life after I became a burden to them. We saw eachother on a regular basis, I even stayed at their house once after they tried to break my shell and I (mentally) collapsed into a puddle of goo. They also hurt me once by calling the police for a welfare check, and my parents got involved.

Of the two best friends I have managed to keep, the closer of the two has issues in their own life going on right now. I feel guilty and sad for even talking to them...they have asked that I limit interaction while they try to straighten out their own world. They have also called the police on my for a welfare check, and got my co-workers involved.

I already had a hard time making friends before. Anymore, it's hard for me to trust anyone at all.

I don't have any friends to go places with.

I'm always working my ass off (working 7 days a week these days, haven't had a real day of rest in months).

Social Anxiety says that I can't go anywhere alone. Plus I don't really trust myself alone, much less in a foreign Environment.

How am I supposed to meet a friend, when I work my ass off 7 days a week? When I don't know what resting is?

How do I elevate a non-existent friend to "More than a friend" status?

A child learns their name by having it spoken to them repetitively.

A pet learns its name by having it spoken to them repetitively.

When bullies call you gay and queer repetitively because you’ve never had a date much less a girlfriend in 12 years, … At some point you begin to believe it.

When that trend continues to a statistic of 3.25 years of relationship out of 30 years of life…..

You begin to question the things you ever thought you knew.

Sometimes I wish I was Ace.

Sometimes I wish I knew what I am.

Historically, I can be described as a smart, odd, minimally sarcastic ignoramus. But that is only my personality.

Am I straight? Am I gay? Am I bi? Or am I just hopeless?

Will I ever find love? Will I ever have kids?

Is there something wrong with me that revolts women away?

Will I have to find a woman 8-10 years younger than myself and cause her to have children at a young age to avoid being the age of their peers' grandparents at graduation? If I find a woman now, we date for 3 years, engaged for 1, married for 3, then have a kid...I'll be 37 when they are born and 55 when they graduate high school.

We're the bullies in high school right all this time? I don't want them to be. But what if they are? Or am I just that broken inside?

The things that I like/enjoy...they scare me a little. And that's coming from me. For years I have said I was a sapiosexual (turned on by intelligence rather than personality or looks)...but it never occurred to me, what if the gender lines do not in-fact exist? What if....

These are the questions that keep me awake at night.

These are the questions that feed my depression.

These are the scenarios that feed my anxiety, my trust issues, my loneliness.

These are the reasons that, more than anything....I will never turn down a hug.

Because a hug means you love and care about me.

And I need that reassurance.

But it feels good on the inside, too.

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philsllamasdanslions · 7 years ago

Text

Help I've Fallen (part one) BEING RE WRITTEN

Summary: Dans been blind since he fell off a cliff on a school trip in 7th grade. Phil lesters bullied him since then.

Tw: bullying, insecurity, swearing.

Genre: angst? And fluff I guess. It’s happyish I guess???

Words: 2.6k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dan hates school. He hated the way he knew the hallways, he’s seen them before, but he can no longer do that. He can’t see the posters, the sign up sheets, or the paintings of art students. He didn’t get the privilege of seeing students faces as they worked, or knowing where the teacher was looking. He couldn’t see the writing on the board, or the decorations up for certain events. He can’t read books from the library or watch the schools theatre kids perform. He couldn’t watch football, or see everyone smile as they were told there was going to be a school dance. For so many of those reasons he hates school. It was no longer the same to him. It was no longer a colorful place where he can have fun, because he couldn’t see all of the fun.

He hadn’t always been blind, he used to be able to see colors, or the sky. He loved sitting outside and watching the stars, but one accident had to ruin this all for him. He often found himself angry. Angry that people liked to take advantage of what they had, they called things ugly and said they wished they had never seen it. They don’t understand that to someone who can’t see, anything seen could be beautiful. They don’t understand how much he would love to see something, anything at all, no matter how ugly someone said it was. People just didn’t think before they say things. He was angry that people tried to make it beautiful, because it wasn’t. There is nothing beautiful about being blind. Mainly because nothing at all was beautiful. He couldn’t see to know. What’s beautiful about seeing nothing but black? The ugliest color to most.

Sighing and trying to see over his cloud of negativity (see what he did there) he walked the hallway of the school he used to see, waiting for Louise, his best friend, to show up and tap on his shoulder like she always did to warn him she was there. It’s not that he couldn’t hear, but when you can’t see, you tend to rely on your other senses, and everything in school was so loud he probably wouldn’t know it was her and that she was talking to him. When she tapped he could listen for her voice. It just saved him the struggle really, and Louise would do anything to help Dan. She had always been a good friend, his only one really. He didn’t get bullied, no, everyone was too busy pitying him to be rude. Okay maybe that was a small lie, but he’ll tell you that later.

Dan jumped a bit at the hand patting his back three times, but then smiled turning to the hopefully close direction of his friend. “Hey Louise! How are you?” He asked. The one thing he hated about Louise was that they became friends after the “famous” school trip, so he had no idea what she looked like. She had of course let him feel her face, and she had described herself to him, but he still wished he could see his best friend. It was sad knowing that no matter what he does, he will never see the girl, and it was his own fault. Had he listened, he might have still been able too see. Maybe things had been for him. Maybe his life was going somewhere positive, somewhere he could see. Though he knew that was all ruined now.

He heard a girlish laugh and then her voice speak “I’ve been good Danny Boo, How bout you?” She giggled. Okay, Dan lied, he hated another thing about Louise, she always had a different nickname that’s equally horrible. “Oh ya know, I think I’m a changed man, I’ve been seeing the world differently.” He said giving it a second before they both broke into laughter clutching their stomachs. Or at least that’s what Dan was doing. “Oh my gosh Dan!” She laughed sounding a little breathless and high pitched. Dan smiled in her general direction or what he hoped was, before starting to walk into his home room. People use to try and help Dan, but soon gave up as Dan knew the whole school and didn’t really need help. He hated feeling helpless. It was very annoying for people to ask.

“Alright everyone, please remain silent or at least semi quiet while we play this movie, pay attention to the details of the Romance and how the director made the couples relationship form. Look out for things you believe you could make better.” Mr. Roman said. Dan sighed unhappy because the teachers didn’t make him write anything for essays because he couldn’t see. He would never use his blindness as an excuse but the teachers believed he couldn’t write on his own. It annoyed Dan to no end. That and having people ask questions to Louise instead of him. He’s not deaf and blind, he’s still a human, he just can’t see. It was very frustrating for him. People never really considered how he felt. Apparently being blind made it sure you couldn’t have feelings. Those came with eyesight only.

Setting his head on the desk he listened to the movie for a few minutes, trying to think of what the actors might look like, when a large mass hit him in the head. Sighing Dan ignored it, knowing for a fact what it was, and why it was thrown at him. You see Dan doesn’t have problems at school. Sure he only has Louise as a friend, but nothing made him want to move schools, of course there were bullies, but none picked on Dan, drawing the line at bullying a blind boy, but one person wasn’t against it at all, taking a liking to making sure Dan wasn’t happy. The same boy who helped break that rule, the same boy who watched Dan fall, and witness him become blind. He was horrible and Dan hated him. Kinda. It’s difficult okay.

His name is Phil Lester, him and Dan had been friends before the incident, but after that Phil had stopped being nice to Dan, he began to be mean. He remembers the day clearly, it was the worst day of his life besides the incident himself. He had just stopped talking to him, never saying hi, or having their normal sleepovers, then one day at school, he just started saying mean things and pushing him down. It was very confusing for Dan. He sighed thanking himself for the flashback of the accident. He always relived that day. He just loved torturing himself apparently. Honestly can he be friendlier to himself? Nope.

~flashback to their year 7~

Dan was so excited! The school was taking a trip to the mountains, and Dan loved to go hiking! He doesn’t know why, but he loved the idea of being surrounded By nature, where he could see and hear animals and water. Everything was just so natural. He was more excited though, to go with his best friend Phil. He and Phil have been friends for their whole lives and they loved doing things together. Whether it was Phil taking Dan to the lake, or running around the school to avoid angry teachers. They really were as close as they could be. Well I mean, for kids.

“Daniel!” His mother called, snapping him from his thoughts. She was sitting in the front seat of the car, looking back at him with a smile on her face. ‘Finally.’ He thought opening his door and getting out before racing towards the bus that would be taking them to what Dan liked to call heaven, but in reality was just a mountain camping sight. He couldn’t help it, he just enjoyed everything and was often a very happy child.

After a long goodbye, hug, and a promise to call every night, he got on the bus, waiting for Phil to arrive so they could talk. He hoped that Phil wouldn’t fall asleep, as Dan didn’t like sleeping in vehicles and would get bored alone. Dan just loved Phil so much. He was his best friend, and he just knew they would be friends forever.

Watching out the window at the school he smiled thinking of all the things he and Phil have done. He hoped they leave a legacy when they trade to the bigger high school. He was so lost in thought he jumped when someone yelled “BOO!” In his ear and quickly turned to glare at the male laughing next to him.

“Phhhiiillll” Dan pouted slapping the other boy on the shoulder. “That was hilarious!” Phil laughed smiling at Dan, and okay, maybe he was scared for a second, and was a little upset, but Phils laugh was contagious and he couldn’t help the giggle that flowed through his mouth.

With that the boys sat down, and the bus took off, leading to what Dan didn’t know, was going to be the worst time of his life. Maybe a bit dramatic but hey, that’s how they described him after all. He probably shouldn’t be making jokes about this.

~timeskip to the second day of the trip~

Dan was having the best time of his life! They had already gone swimming and hiking! The whole area was gorgeous, the lake was clean and the cafeteria was perfect. Currently him and Phil were climbing up the rocks. It was a pretty far drop, probably not enough to kill you, but to hurt you maybe, and thy had been told not too, but they were rebels and did it anyways. That was the best thing about being best friends with Phil, he didn’t question if Dan wanted to slip away, he just went with it and Dan was so grateful for it.

They were having fun, looking at the view and sitting down when Dan scooted closer to the edge. He wanted to see the sunset even closer. He hadn’t realized before it was too late that the rock was giving away. Phil watched, he watched in terror as the edge gave away and his best friend screamed, falling with the rock. He wasn’t sure how it happened, it looked so steady, but he could hear Dan at the bottom which meant he was alive thankfully. He immediately went to the teachers bringing them to Dan. It was definitely the scariest thing he’s ever seen. He wasn’t gonna lie.

~flashback over~

Since that day he hadn’t been able to see, and his best friend had hated him, calling him names, and pushing him down in the hallways. It didn’t bother Dan anymore, he was used to it by now, so he turned around to the general area he knew Phil sat and whispered “could you please stop.” He heard a harsh laugh and a felt a pencil hit the side of his head, so he just sighed ignoring it.

After class was over he slowly got up keeping his eyes closed as he began to walk to the library where he would stay for lunch. He usually kept his eyes closed so he didn’t have to think about the fact that he wouldn’t be able to see either way. Unfortunately he couldn’t make it without bumping into someone and he was sent flying to the ground, groaning as his head hit the floor.

“Watch out you stupid bitch!” He heard Phil yell. This was the part Dan hated. He couldn’t see Phil, so he had an obvious advantage on Dan and could easily kill him without him ever seeing who it was. Of course Phil had never gotten physical enough as to punch or kick before, but it could always happen, and that was what usually kept Dan from being rude back. No matter how bad he wants too. It’s very unfair and he couldn’t stand it but it was the truth.

“Sorry.” He muttered before getting back up and walking to the library. He wished he could see, perhaps he could see why Phil hated him, or what he looked like, what his family looked like or what Louise looks like. He just wished he had listened to that teacher and stay away from those rocks. He wished that people didn’t take advantage of their senses, because it really sucks losing one.

He walked into the large doors and headed towards one of the tables, using the black cane his mom got him to navigate. His mom often asked why he liked black, and why he insisted she buy him only black clothes. He had simply replied “I feel like I can see my clothes if their black, since that’s all I can see.” And left it at that. He knew his mom listened to him and wasn’t scared that he was wearing a peach crop top with white jeans. Besides, people often said he looked like death as he walked around.

Sitting down at the table he brought out his laptop and plugged in his headphones. People always asked why he had a laptop if he couldn’t see what’s on the screen. He had a voice that told him what anything says when he scrolls over it. People just never asked, which often got on his nerves. Why assume something when you can ask and know for sure. He doesn’t get why people thought he was helpless.

Especially people like Phil. He really did wish he knew why the male hated him so much. He hadn’t been the one who fell? So why was he upset. As far as he was aware he had done nothing for the boy to get angry at. Perhaps something happened with his family? Maybe it was just lame to hang out with a blind person? He didn’t know. To tell you the truth it hurt. It hurt so much for his best friend to leave him like that. He hadn’t eaten for a week. He got so skinny his mom feared he would die. He no longer had an appetite. He couldn’t see what he was he was eating anyways. He had started to get sad more often. He found himself crying a lot. He found himself angry and hurt. He was sad, angry, hurt, betrayed, and completely broken.

Things had gotten better after Louise. She had helped him, forcing him to eat and ignore what Phil said. She was honestly the best thing that had ever happened to Dan. She didn’t force him to do anything but often found herself scolding Dan for doing dangerous things. She was the best friend he used to have and he would forever be grateful for the lovely girl.

Shaking his thoughts away he started to write, having the voice tell what he was writing every once in a while. He was currently writing a romance novel. It was cheesy he knew, but he didn’t really care. The whole story was basically what he wished he could have. He didn’t mean Phil dramatically running back to him and him accepting the boy with open arms. He wasn’t in a tv show. He just wished he could find a guy that proved he cared for him. He wished he could have that high school love everyone talks about, but who would date the blind boy? Sad but true and Dan had grown used to it.

He was currently writing the part where Jacob ran after April, hoping to catch the girl before she left for good, when a hand came slapping down on the table. Jumping and taking out his earbuds, and by the sound and how loud it was he knew who had done it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ So this is my first chartered fic! Hopefully it’ll be okay for you guys! I’m planning on updating every Monday and Thursday. I put a cliffhanger there because I didn’t really know how to end it the way I wanted. I love you guys and I hope your all doing well!!💕

#phanfiction #phandom #phan #dan and phil #phil and dan #bullying

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dearnormajean · 3 years ago

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I rise up

dear norma jean,

I have not forgotten you, but I have let myself fall and almost forgot how to get back up. I am doing better now. It’s a process, that doesn’t come with instructions, so I will fall. I just have to remember to get back up again. Another reminder is that to ask for help, and share my vulnerabilities with those I trust, does not make me weak. Living with this on my own does.

Last Friday was my last session with my therapist before she leaves for her 3 month maternity leave (which of course could be longer depending on myriad of things). While I am so happy for her new adventure in life, I am also worried about how I will handle my mental health needs. I've spent about a week coming up with a plan. One awesome thing about anxiety is that you can think of every scenario that may ever come up. I set up some stuff in place, and I felt pretty darn proud of myself, when my therapist seemed impressed with my growth. Last time, when she went to away for her PhD, I was pretty nonchalant. I mean, I survived 35+ years without her. Yeah, surviving is what I am good at, but was I thriving? Anyway, that's where I have been. I have been reading so you don't you all worry. If I can’t read, then I know I'm in trouble. Reading gets me through a lot. It anchors my mind and soul.

I have been taking free courses in journaling, mindfulness, guided mediations, nature talks, history lectures, Black studies, support groups, book events and book clubs. I am hoping to gain resources to help me in my time away from my therapist. I want to take this time to take all that we have discusses, the resources she has given me and pair it up with creativity. I want to have purpose. I feel like most of my life I have drifted to things, or forced myself away from things that may look too flighty or even talked myself out of things because I think I will fail before I even try. In doing so, I may have missed out on my purpose. But it is never too late, and I am going to be honest with what I want for myself, and if I fail...I fail. How someone sees me is not my worth or my problem. I already have me to deal with, and that’s enough right there.

Soooooo, look what I also did! I have organized myself....and am hoping I can get into a routine. I read somewhere it takes 8 weeks to form a habit (I also could have heard myself saying to myself, and thinking it's a thing). I feel like I wait for January to get myself sorted, and when I don't I just get overwhelmed and hard on myself. I tend to not pick myself up again. It is June, the halfway mark to the year, a start of my hot girls who write and read summer.

At the top of the pile - with a salmon pinky-orange - is my writing journal. I am making it a priority to write. Whether it's poetry, personal essays, a short story, I want to make writing an important part of my life again. In my teens, I wrote every day. I have some of the stuff I wrote, but most I threw away deeming it unworthy. Fun fact about me - I liked to write creep horror stories. One of my first stories I wrote was about a hitchhiking ghost. I really wish I would have kept that. I am going to be working on poetry a lot. It's something that I thought I was horrible at, and seemed so diva-ish, I never really wanted to do it. Yet, I wrote a lot of poems, many on the fly. Hearing feedback on it, I might actually be a poet. I remember my two creative writing teachers in college, really pushed me to send my work out. I sent it to one, got a rejection, and was ready to kill that part of me. I also became so focused on finding my purpose in life, career wise, I kind of missed that this may be one part of it. I have been published in an online magazine and print, so I am not sure why my self doubt creeps in so bad. I will keep you all posted as motivation for me to keep going.

The sassy hot pink journal is actually my notebook of whatever. I am bad at remembering stuff and lists. I put it on stickies and forget where I stuck it, and have piles of paper neatly stacked so I never get to it. I try not to be on my phone, and I hate taking notes on it so this is my "remember this shit, Kris" book. Also, taking down rough notes to put in a more cohesive way later.

The longer pink notebook is my journaling - mental health/nature/faith. I am hoping to get into expressive journaling that can help me release my thoughts, and hopefully also get my creative juices flowing. I have a sketch book as well to do some drawings

The last, but definitely not the least, and the one you may be interested in is my reading journal. In there are my goals, challenges, book clubs, book events, books I come across, recommendations from others. I won't be putting reviews in there as I have this and Goodreads, but it is more my personal goals on reading. I will take some pictures to show on here, but my phone is being very dramatic about the amount of "space" I use - which I don't think is much. I forget that my mini iPad has a camera so I will take some shots with it to show you what I am doing. It's not super fancy, but I wanted to dip my toe in. I am a perfectionist. You would not think that of me, but I am. I tend to not do things because I think I will fail or I won't be good enough. I see other people with reading journals that look soooooo amazing, and then look at my washabi tape all crooked and ask why I bother. For the next twelve months I am going on a journey of self-compassion. I want to invite you on that journey with me, but no pressure if that is too much for you. One lesson I have learned from my therapist is that I may be too much for some people, and that’s okay, because for others I am enough. I will be putting up my boundaries and working on my anger that shows up as resentment and trauma.

Just to warn you about triggers...I will be discussing my anxiety, depression, obsessive compulsive disorder, childhood trauma, domestic violence (as witness and survivor) and there are two more that I am not ready to be public with...yet. I will be doing some of my writing on here, especially poetry. I will try to be mindful of triggers and post warnings.

If you took the time to read to this point, thank you. You have helped me be open and honest to the world and get to an authentic self. I am broken, but I can heal and mend.

#mentalhealth #anxitey #ocd tw #depression #writing #journaling #therapy

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douchebagbrainwaves · 6 years ago

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I'VE BEEN PONDERING IPHONE

I think it's easier to see, and more importantly, if you think of while you're employed by the company and get an option to maintain their power, and isn't too fussy about how. I'm not saying founders with families should uproot them to move halfway around the world; that might be easy. But apparently hackers are particularly curious, especially about how things work. You're not bracketing the problem. Sheep act the way they wait. So you don't have an iPhone, for example, would not work well with hackers. When I talk to don't know whether this happens because they're innumerate, or because their mother had one, you were squeezing the organization that was going to be one investor who gives them the first month's bill.

That's very cheap, and b I'm pathologically optimistic about people's ability to change. It turns out that looking at things from someone else's point of view, to be able to avoid having the round occupy your thoughts, if you have to design your society in a way that's more valuable to you than that. A lot of doctors worry that if they can find someone to handle the paperwork for them. That's normal for startups.1 Do not, however, approach our goal from another direction, by using ourselves as guinea pigs.2 It's because the company is about to expire at least, that worry will now be out in the end. But it was mysterious to me that any employer would be reluctant to express in front of you, and it will become as big as Google might well get it wrong. A lot of startup culture will thus be driven by a thousand rowers. 4, whereas xxx and porn individually have probabilities in my corpus of.

Does anyone believe they would notice the anomaly, and not dissing users.3 As I was writing this, but that I often spent money I desperately needed on stuff that I didn't.4 But it didn't matter exactly what the customers tell them to get into the deals they want. Of course, you don't have to be able to start successful startups. Einstein, Marie Curie, and George Washington Carver. If you use all the tokens, whereas I only use the 15 most interesting to know.5 Someone riding a motorcycle isn't working any harder. So it was in order to do it as a joke.6 You don't seem to be indispensable. During interviews, Robert and Trevor and I do because we always have, and Jessica does too, mostly, because she's so good that her stories don't seem made up. They insist on it. Excite, WebCrawler, InfoSeek, Lycos, and HotBot.

I can see the apples, they can start to see growth, they claim they were your friend all along, and are often mistaken about that.7 Some of the founders spent all their time programming. In the worst case, it was not till we were in our twenties that the truth came out: my sister, then about three, had accidentally stepped on the cat and broken its back. I didn't learn anything from philosophy papers; I didn't learn much in Philosophy 101. I was surprised how much fun the summer was for us.8 If someone who had to process payments before Stripe. But I don't think this is something intrinsic to programming, though.9 Thanks to Sam Altman, Paul Buchheit, Jessica Livingston, and Robert Morris for reading drafts of this.10 The market was pioneered by upstarts like Apple. Kerry ultimately lost 49-51, exit polls gave him a 52-48 victory.11 Incidentally, America's private universities are one reason there's so much venture capital. So if one group is a minority in some population, pairs of them will amount to anything.

Wild animals are beautiful because they have no redundancy. I've often had a juicy bug to track down. If you use all the tokens, meaning those with probabilities far from.12 Hard as it is in business.13 Many people feel confused and depressed in their early twenties be their own bosses, they rise to the occasion. But that is exactly the wrong way: they have so much more wealth than another. Observation confirms this too: cities either have a self-indulgent in the sense that we encourage the startups we funded, in the final version of an essay.14 One expert on entrepreneurship told me that what he liked about my essays was stuff I only thought of when I sat down and thought about what it takes to hear it. Compared to IBM they were like Robin Hood.

Thirty years later Facebook had the same sort of insight Socrates claimed: we at least knew we knew nothing. Investors have much higher standards for companies that have an exit strategy—meaning companies that could do it than literally making a mark on the world, we tell startups they can blame us. That might seem a prudent choice to write it yourself, then convince them. I usually tell founders to give the other side. And since no one is doing them yet. How could they be? The best ideas are also the most selective, because they know that as a question, not an associate.15

That's made harder by the fact that they have less reputation to protect. They got in fights and played tricks on one another. The Catch es If it were a property of the subject or the object if subjects all react similarly.16 That doesn't mean the company has succeeded. A startup could also give better deals to investors they expected to help them.17 Plus as a consulting company, or just bust. If there's one thing all startups have to worry about. Otherwise I just worked. Bill Gates knows this.18

Notes

Which means one of the editor, written in Lisp.

Norton, 2012. 5,000. Like us, they will only be a good open-source projects now that the only companies smart enough to turn Buffalo into a great programmer might invent things an ordinary one?

What should you even be working to help the company, and graph theory. I still shiver to recall. Cell phone handset makers are satisfied to sell them technology.

But the Wufoos are exceptionally disciplined. There's a good way to fight.

But Goldin and Margo think market forces in the Neolithic period. Handy that, go talk to corp dev guys should be protected against such tricks initially.

Obviously this is an acceptable excuse, but I wouldn't want the first question is not just for her but for the difference is that you're not even be symbiotic, because you need.

At one point they worried Lotus was losing its startup edge and turning into a significant effect on the critical path that they imitate even the most difficult part for startup founders and one VC.

And what people actually paid. If a man has good corn or wood, or at least what they made, but getting rich from a 6/03 Nielsen study quoted on Google's site.

Labor. Doing things that don't raise money, the government had little acquired immunity to tax rates. The other extreme, the closest most people are trying to steal a few people who run them would be unfortunate.

All you need to know exactly how a lot on how much you get to college, you'll find that with a faulty knowledge of human nature is certainly not impossible for a long time for your middle initial—because it has to their software that was more because they need to be tweaking stuff till it's yanked out of a lumbar disc herniations, but at least one beneficial feature: it has to be very hard to make a fortune in the belief that they'll be able to protect against truly determined attackers. Unless you're very docile compared to adults.

The conventional 1 in 10 success rate for startups, which I warn about later: beware of getting rich, purely mercenary founders will do that. The banks now had to work with me there. The biggest counterexample here is that you'll have to resort to in order to test whether that initial impression holds up.

Perhaps the solution is to the margin for error. Then Josh Wilson came in to pick a date, because they are like, etc, and the 4K of RAM was in his twenties than any of the companies that an investor they already know; but random is pretty bad.

Some would say we depend on closing a deal led by a big change in the early 90s when they decide you're a loser they're done, lots of customers you need to get great people. 01. As always, tax rates have had to pay out their earnings in dividends, and the cost of writing software goes up more than linearly with its size. Sullivan actually said form ever follows function, but you should always absolutely refuse to give them up is the desire to protect themselves.

They'd be interchangeable if markets stood still.

A lot of detail. VCs already are, but less than 500, because the median total compensation, including the order and referrer. Maybe it would have gotten the royal raspberry.

Some of the x division of Megacorp is now very slow, but a blockhead ever wrote except for that reason. Perhaps this is also the main effect of low salaries as the cause.

And since everyone involved is so pervasive how often the answer. We just store the data, it's cool with us he would presumably have got more of the biggest winners, from hour to hour that the most successful companies have little do with down rounds—like full ratchet anti-dilution provisions, even to inexperienced founders. The empirical evidence suggests that if you have two choices, choose the harder.

So for example, would be more alarmed if you have a connection with Aristotle, but they start to finance themselves with retained earnings was one in an era of such regulations is to imagine cases where VCs don't invest, regardless of how hard they work. Currently the lowest rate seems to be, yet. A Plan for Spam. Most of the auction.

#automatically generated text #Markov chains #Paul Graham #Python #Patrick Mooney #startups #Aristotle #Wilson #standards #redundancy #venture #counterexample #provisions #cause

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