#high school was godawful but i had a lot of friends and good teachers and good memories | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starryflix · 2 years

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Teachers

The 26th of November, 2022

So, how to explain to people that a good one and a half year after graduating high school you are still in contact with your old mentor? That is most definitely the case for me. We (kinda, I am only home on the weekends) live in the same town, not all that far from another, but it's not like I come from a small village at all. It's not all that common to keep that good of contact with an old teacher.

I ran into her yesterday and she seemed really happy to see me, as I had spend an entire year abroad and have now moved 3 hours away for my studies. She then asked me if I'd like to join her and her wife and kids for a walk with lights for a Dutch children's holiday.

I talked with her a while during the walk, and am, just like last summer with all of my friends actually, been invited to stop by for tea another time to catch up in a more convenient setting. I will get back to her later.

I have a handful of teachers during my 16 years in the school system that have been of great importance for who I am as today and it has furthered my ideas that schools and teachers can actually leave a good and big impact on the next generation if they really wish to do so. Good teachers truly care about their students.

The first two teachers to achieve this were my year 5 (I think if translated to the English/American system? It's 'groep 7' in the Dutch system.) and year 6 (Groep 8) teachers. My 5th grade teacher is the one that pushed my drawing and once told me I would be a writer one day. 10 year old me called him crazy but he did turn out to be right.

I am writing and planning an entire Fantasy Novel.

Whenever I went back to visit my primary school for several reasons, one of which being picking up my younger sibling, he always asked me to see my drawings and showed them to his students. They were apparently always so impressed that I even got asked to give a few guest lessons where I tought them to draw. This actually continued on even after his retirement with my year 6 teacher, another one of great importance as she always felt generally so safe and calm, someone who gave me the same support as the year 5 one. Most of the trouble started when I was 9, but even before that I dealt a lot with being excluded and left out, and thus these two teachers gave me the first bout of confidence in my own abilities and naturally saw my interests in art, writing and teaching and instead of berating me for practicing them they supported me. 10-11 year old me needed that confidence a lot. They gave me extra tips and tricks and opportunities to utilise my talents. Every time I hesitated if I should just quit or give up I could hear their voices in the back of my mind pushing me forwards.

Then came my first year of high school which was hell. The teachers were not understanding at all, I had just started topsport and I was 11-almost-12 and struggling. I was young, I admit. The Dutch schooling system also does not know a middle school so it was a large leap and I felt unsupported through the entirety of it. Never mind being actually bullied there for not being 'normal' and for apparently underachieving even when I got a passing grade.

It took a lot of my energy and when I finally decided to switch schools a lot of me had been lost to insecurity and fear.

Insert my theater and history teacher of my second and third years. (year 8 and 9 for the american system)

My theatre teacher helped me find a passion through the arts again, as did a large part of the art department. I was pushed to do what I enjoyed and to stop caring about others. It helped me along greatly. Then came my third year of high school, the most traumatic year of my life and details be damned my mother got diagnosed with cancer for the third time and was sure not to survive. Bless my history teacher and mentor of that year for the way he handled it. 2016-17, a godawful year that he helped me through swimmingly. He made it easy for me to communicate with him, he supported and talked with me whenever needed and made sure to also care for the communication with the other teachers and the higher ups. He has supported me more than I can ever put to words, also in the change from lower-high school to higher-high school. The transition from year 3 to 4, with completely new teachers and a new mentor went also so swift due to his tenacity and care and I will forever be thankful for my theater and history teacher for caring so much. They even went to my mother's funeral as to support me a little, since they seemed aware I took a great deal of strength from their support. They went beyond what they were expected to do. Beyond what anyone expects of a school, of teachers. Yet they were there to help me. I was 13 and 14 at the time and this was the external support I was missing, they filled in where friends were supposed to be. Friends I didn't have.

I just want to make a really clear note that everything of course went within professional boundaries and never once was there any question of anything else or other intent. With recent stories and such surfacing I want to clarify that none of that was the case. I have multiple witnesses and friends, among family and my father to contest to this. They were all parental figures in a sense.

Another teacher important in my third year was my English teacher, English teacher M. (as the other one, my mentor S, is the other one that's important haha... Gay kids and English teachers.. I guess.)

M was super sweet and by doing a very simple thing helped me immensely. It's hard for a lot of people that knew me around that time to fathom me flunking my English class, but I went from a 4 to a 9 within a year all because M realised that learning simple grammar wasn't working for me. In turn she told me I could neglect some of my homework and I should just start writing. There it is again; writing apparently a magic word. I would write something and she would read it and correct any mistakes. This way I learned a lot more than by simply following the lessons.

Then onto two of the most important teachers I ever had in my life. L, my social sciences teacher and mentor and S, the mentor and English teacher mentioned earlier and at the beginning. L and S, as it turned out, are also best friends. I didn't know this until like three years into meeting both of them.

They kind of became mother figures after my mother passed away. Just two adults I looked up. L had studied psychology and it's thanks to her I opened up and started talking and didn't hesitate to search for professional help. She asked me the right questions when I didn't even know myself. I was known to omit the actual answer and answer with facts whenever someone asked if I was okay and L was the best in figuring out how to actually get me to talk. S came later and took over from L. But both never stopped making sure I was doing alright, mentally and in the educational sense. I wish I could honestly put into words what they did for me, how important they still are even if I left the school two years ago. These two... truly. What I said before of the teachers from my second high school going beyond, these two went so far and were so important and intertwined with my last four years (I had to resit my 5th year, again 11th in the american system) and stood up for me and guided me whenever I struggled. When S was diagnosed with cancer she cared more about me than some (in my opinion) more important people, she notified my dad of the news beforehand, before telling it to me, to make sure he could support me and knew what was going on, she asked him if it would be better to tell me earlier or to tell me with the rest of the class. She told our mentor class before informing some of her colleagues. At that point in time only her direct family and the directors of the school knew about it. And I was next on that list of important people. It still baffles me, and I still want to sometimes hit her upside the head for taking care of me before anything else.

L, at this point in time, had already silently taken over mentorship for me. And S kept repeating that she understood if I liked to have L more as a mentor than her multiple times, while in all reality both were kind of accidentally doing the same things anyway. These two cared about me when it seemed no one else (besides my family) did and helped me ground myself, find myself on my feet again.

L once asked me if I thought I wouldn't have run into mental problems sans my mother anyway. It was a 'what if?' question but she poised a point that was important. I was dealing with more than just grief at the same time. And L and S helped me through all of it, whether direct or indirect. When I started to (more openly) struggle with my sexuality and gender, but also confidence and finding my footing and finding friends, these two were there to help me figure out any doubts. Specifically because while I knew my dad would be accepting it wouldn't have been the same, and coming out to him was really scary. There is honestly so so much to say and tell about these two incredible human beings. It just makes me look up to them that much more.

Teachers, and just in general role models in life, can leave such a big and positive impact behind. It seems a little silly in hindsight, penning this down, knowing damn well my experience is a special case and an odd one, but it shows in a hyperbole the impact someone can have on someone else's life even by being simply sweet and accepting. To just simply support someone and someone's interests.

Coming back on S, I sometimes truly miss seeing her face at school everyday. But I also know that I will always be welcome to stop by for a cup of tea and a chat. Even if it's been years.

S is someone who might give a little too much of her self for the sake of others, one day I just hope I can return her a favour. She means a lot to me.

I think a lot of my inspiration comes from the people I have met and their stories. I think a lot of our inspiration comes from our experiences of meeting other people. And it's rather fascinating.

#Felix' Blog (a collection tag)#personal thoughts #teachers #school

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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

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Memories Are Golden

The prom of ‘85 was just one week away. If you asked Steve how much involvement he would’ve have in the event, not even a month ago he would’ve guessed it to be nothing more than maybe taking a flyer home and immediately throwing it in the trash.

Because he wouldn’t be able to go anyways, him and his date didn’t exactly abide by the administration's rules, or society’s, for that matter, so he didn’t care about the whole thing, until last minute, when Nancy had successfully convinced him to be a part of the prom committee with her.

The conversation had basically been a very lengthy guilt trip, he’s well aware of that, and her whole, ‘best moments of our lives’ speech hadn’t really done much to change his mind either.

In the end, Steve had only decided he was going to do it for three reasons: he’d get extra credit in the teacher in charge of prom, the math teachers, class, he wouldn’t have to go to any of his morning classes, and Robin joined in on Nancy’s bullying him because her and Heather would be apart of the committee too.

So now for the next week leading up to the big day, Steve has to spend his mornings in the gym putting up the decorations for the grand march.

But it isn’t all bad, because their small little task force made up of the other poor souls Nancy had rallied to do this with her is all of his friends, Nancy and Barb and Robin and Heather, with the addition of one very begrudging Billy Hargrove.

The girls were all the type you’d expect to be into this thing, the crafty ones mixed in with popularity, and everyone knew Steve would do anything to show school spirit, especially if Nancy bullied him into it, but nobody actually expected Billy of all people to even show up.

He certainly looked more likely to be the one crashing the prom than hanging up little foil stars on the walls, and anyways, rumor had it he only was on the committee as an alternative to detention for smoking weed under the bleachers.

But Steve knew that had absolutely not happened, for one thing, Billy’s weed stayed tightly locked up in his bedroom, thank you very much, and for another, he was there completely willingly. Steve knew that, because he’d been the one to tell Billy to sign up.

Which, when it really got right down to it, Billy honestly was the only reason Steve was even doing this whole thing. They were used to working in a couple of very limited interactions on the court or in the few classes they shared, but with the prom committee they’d be required to spend at least four hours together every day. It was the golden opportunity, even if that wasn’t the way Nancy intended it.

So maybe Billy does show up a little late every morning on purpose, just to keep up appearances, but he’s got a smile on his face, hidden behind the styrofoam coffee cup he gets from the cafeteria as he seeks out Steve and sits beside him in the bleachers to wait for that days instruction.

“Mornin’ Bill.” Steve mumbles tiredly, used to coming in late every day and getting at least an extra hour of sleep most days.

Billy nods and hums in his throat as his only response, so Steve asks him, “You wake up on the wrong side of the bed this mornin’?”

And of course, in true Billy fashion, he flashes Steve his most shit eating grin, and says all nonchalant, “Always do when I wake up alone.”

It’s so cheesy, and very obviously meant to get to him, but Steve can’t help the blush that creeps up his neck. He’s still trying to think up an equally as flustering comeback, when the teacher in charge finally shows up.

She announces that this year’s theme was ‘under the stars’, which Steve thought sounded incredibly tacky, but there was still no way it would be any worse than the godawful ‘hollywood’ theme from the year before. Hawkins High had a reputation for a lot of things, but creativity was not one of them.

They get split up into groups, Nancy and Barb in charge of the promo, the writing up, designing, and printing of the announcements and tickets, and Robin and Heather got the delicate detail work, blowing up balloons, laying down the artificial grass squares and hanging or putting in place whatever the other groups made them.

Billy and Steve, on the other hand, were stuck with all the dirty work, the manly jobs. They’re the ones who have to paint the banner that’s going to go over the door, and carry anything that’s considered too heavy and hang anything too high (even though Barb really isn’t that much shorter than them), and set up the tents and string the electricity to the lights in the fake lamp posts.

Quite frankly, Steve doesn’t think it’s fair that they have double the workload as the girls, most of the week had been dedicated to their work, but he just can’t bring himself to complain about getting to watch Billy working every morning, still barely awake yet, his hair pulled up so it didn’t get paint or that much glitter in it.

~~~~~~~~

On their last day in the gym, all that’s left is to sort out a few last minute details, the final squares of fake grass are laid out, lights are tested and glitter is spread out on everything. It doesn’t take too awful long, so they end up with just under three hours leftover to kill.

What they’re supposed to do is report back to their morning classes and try to catch up on all the work they’ve been missing out on for the entire week, but Billy isn’t looking to worry about a bunch of school work, so he tries to convince the rest to skip those last few hours with him.

From Barb and Nancy he gets an instant no, which, he was honestly expecting that. They’re responsible girls, and he can’t blame them for giving two shits about their education. The fact of the matter is though, that he doesn’t.

What he isn’t expecting as much is for his best friend to tell him no, but Heather’s too excited about her senior prom to get in trouble the day before it, and he can respect that.

He already knows that if Heather’s not going, Robin’s not either, so he waves her off before she even bothers trying to explain herself.

That just leaves Steve, and lord knows Billy’s been a bad enough influence on him that he doesn’t even have to ask if he’s ditching, so when Mrs Mitchell and the girls leave, they follow behind until they’re out in the hallway, then duck out of the back entrance of the gym.

Most of the time when people skip they just go home considering the lack of literally anything at all to do around Hawkins, but with Steve’s house too far away for it to be worth leaving, and Billy’s stepmom still at home, that sort of wasn’t an option for them.

Usually they don’t skip for those very reasons, but today they have a handwritten excuse to be out of their classes until exactly 12:15, so in a way, it isn’t so much like skipping as it is just using their free time wisely. Or at least, that’s how Steve rationalizes it, earning from Billy, who thought it was sweet that his former bad boy felt it necessary to make excuses for skipping, a chuckle and a warm smile.

They decide to just hang out on the school grounds, nowhere in town to go but the diner and the stores downtown, and they weren’t in the mood for food nor did they have enough money to blow buying stupid shit they didn’t need, so smoking and sneaking kisses by the tree line on the practice field it was.

It’s nice, but Billy doesn’t like the quiet, furrowed brow as he plucks blades of just growing grass trying to think of something to say that would break the silence. Steve just waits patiently with a lit cigarette burning out between his fingers for Billy to speak, listening intently when he finally says, “You know, s’a shame that I can’t take you to the prom after all that work we did for it.”

“Nah, prom’s way overrated.” Steve blows him off, not wanting him to feel bad about it, personally viewing the dance as stupid anyways, in a way sort of glad he doesn’t have to go, “It’s just a way to pay for new football uniforms and make kids who piqued in highschool feel good about themselves.”

But Billy doesn’t even laugh at that, flicking the head off a dandelion to keep his hands busy as he basically mumbles, “Guess you had time to think ‘bout it already.”

“Yeah. I guess I just always thought dances were kind of dumb. Now that I’m not King Steve anymore I just don’t really see a reason to bother with ‘em.” Steve explains, sliding his hand over to Billy’s across the tips of cool blades of grass, linking their pinkies together and leaning his head against his shoulder, soft touches like these the only way Billy could tell the difference between an open conversation and an argument.

“Still, think it’d be nice to be able to show you off. Let ‘em know what they’ve been missing.” Billy admits, a shy crack of a smile, like he was afraid to bring it up, and it makes Steve smile back, looking straight into the vulnerability behind his blue eyes and saying so softly it’s almost a whisper, “S’not necessary, B. I’m all yours.”

Billy pulls his hand away, a flush on his cheeks that wasn’t just from the warmth of the sun, overwhelmed by the affection just a bit, not uncomfortable with it, just not used to it, and bumps his shoulder into Steve’s, telling him, “God, you’re such a sap.”

“Hey, you’re the one that wanted to take me to the prom.” Steve says, barely even defensive, making Billy smile again.

There’s a break in the conversation, both of them flustered and thinking about the other, until Steve interrupts the quiet this time, leaning back on his hands in the grass and suggesting, “We could do our own prom though, you know.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“Well, we can’t do the real thing, obviously, but I don’t have any other plans tomorrow. You should drop by.”

“You’re really askin’ me to be your prom date?” Billy smirks, but the vulnerable hope in his eyes gives him away, and makes Steve’s heart flutter, though he replies nonchalant, “Who else? Be there at 8:30?”

“It’s a date. See you then, pretty boy.” Billy says with a smile, leaning in to kiss Steve, but getting interrupted by his watch beeping, their break time almost up already.

Steve chuckles and kisses his nose, and says, “Guess we better get back then.” waiting for Billy to leave first so his boyfriend had a head start to get into the school before him.

Billy throws a wink over his shoulder as he retreats towards the gym doors, and suddenly the weight of what they’d just agreed to settles with Steve.

Maybe this prom thing wasn’t as overrated as he thought, because did he ever feel over the moon right now, blushing like an idiot and just standing there dazedly until he hears the bell ring inside the building.

Apparently it showed too, that butterflies in his stomach feeling he had for the rest of the day, if the fact that Robin pulled him aside in the cafeteria for an emergency meeting about why he couldn’t wipe the goofy grin off his face was any indication.

He told her some lie, something about one of the teachers he got his makeup work off of cutting him some slack, and Robin doesn’t believe that, but she knows it’s none of her business, so she lets him keep smiling.

Still, as much as Steve was looking forward to this, at the end of the day when he waved at Billy from across the parking lot, he got nervous. Like, speeding back home to Loch Nora in under ten minutes on a normally fifteen minute drive nervous.

Because he still has a lot of shit to get done between now and tomorrow night when Billy is supposed to show up.

For one thing, his house is a disaster. He almost never cleans it until it’s too late, half-assing the dishes and overloading the washing machine and hiding things in closets usually the day before his parents were supposed to get back.

Another thing is how should he dress? He had a few fancy suits of his own from outings with his parents and past dances, but he knew Billy wouldn’t. Still, wouldn’t it be rude to underdress just because he assumed Billy would be too poor to clean up?

And what did people even do at prom? Get drunk and have sex? If Billy wanted to do that he would’ve just said so. How was Steve supposed to figure out what else they were going to do? The rest of prom is just bad dancing and even worse food, was that something he was supposed to include?

What if he’d sent the wrong signal in the first place and it wasn’t just going to be them? What if Billy showed up at his door with a bunch of other losers skipping out on prom night and this wasn’t really special at all?

The thing is, he knows he’s being irrational. Billy’s not the type to care about this stuff, and even if he did he wasn’t gonna like, break things off just because their little fake prom in Steve’s living room wasn’t perfect. That’s just ridiculous.

So he tries to redirect that initial panic into productivity. Get at least something planned out and put together before he freaks all the way out and loses his motivation.

He decides to do it in small parts, tonight he’d start with the cleaning and getting everything he already had together, and tomorrow would be for shopping and decorating.

Because he’s got such a scatterbrain, he makes a list of all the things he needed to get done before 8:30 tomorrow night, and already he feels the stress start to dissipate with each thing he gets to check off, the living room cleaned until Ruthie would approve, picking out a nice sweater he’d never worn before, fancy but not too much, and tracking down all the things he already had, a record player, the fancy wine Billy said he liked, and a couple of strings of fairy lights and tinsel.

~~~~~~~~~

The next morning he goes straight to Melvald’s, with the rest of his checklist to but candles, more decorations, a boutonnière, just to do it, and maybe something other than takeout to eat for once.

He must look as nervous as he feels, dumping his purchases on the counter, because Joyce smiles that understanding smile of hers, and asks him, “Last minute jitters before prom?”

“You could say that.” He responds breathily, trying to return the smile.

“Jonathan and Nancy decided not to go, but it sounds like it’ll be fun.” Joyce says with a nod, and Steve realizes he’s given her the wrong impression, explaining, “Oh, I’m not going to the real thing either, just hanging out with a friend tonight.”

“Well that sounds nice anyways.” She says, as she rings up his stuff remarking, “You must really like this friend to go all out like this.”

“Yeah he’s-“ Steve physically shakes his head, a reminder to stop talking before he gets himself caught, backpedaling with a shaky excuse, “I-I mean, it’s not like it’s a prom date , it’s just, you know, two guys hanging out.“

Joyce puts her hand on his, that same warm smile still on her face, and tells him, looking him right in the eye as if to say, ‘I know, but it’s okay’, “I’m happy for you, Steve. Have fun tonight.”

Steve nods, a flush to his cheeks as he leaves the store with not another word than, “I… Thank you Mrs. Byers.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Billy knew absolutely jack and shit about school dances.

The first and only he’d ever been bothered to go to was way back in elementary school, and that didn’t exactly hold a candle to the fucking prom.

It helped some that it wasn’t the real thing, but Steve was talking like it might as well be, and quite frankly, he wanted it to be. This was going to be special goddamnit.

But before he can even think too much about it, he realizes none of that will matter if it turns out he can’t show, so he brings it up with his dad at dinner.

At the table is where he’s least likely to get beat if Neil said no, so that was always the time he chose to ask for things. “I know it’s, uh, kind of last minute ‘cause it’s tomorrow night, but could I go to the prom?”

Neil quirks an eyebrow, seeming mostly uninterested, “With who?”

“Nobody as a date.” Billy explains, using the cover story he’d been coming up with since the minute Steve asked him, or rather in anticipation of, “Heather has a spare ticket ‘cause her actual date ditched her last minute and she asked me if I would go with her.”

Neil nods, seemingly believing him, and asks, “When’s it start?”

“Uh, about 8, I think, so I’ll probably leave at like, 6:30 or so.” Billy throws it out nervously, tapping his fingers against the underside of the table, and freezing when Neil speaks.

But he doesn’t get yelled at, it’s just a simple, calm, “Susan, do we have anything planned that time tomorrow?”

“No, dear. Max is going with her friends at six, but other than that...” Comes her timid response without a hitch, and Billy already knows he’s in the clear before Neil gives his response, still not looking up from the table.

He agrees, but with a few conditions that Billy wouldn’t dare disobey, “If you drop your sister off first, you’ve got yourself a deal. Just don’t come home if you’re drunk, and don’t waste all my damned money on pictures.”

Billy nods, his heart racing in anticipation of something he was pretty sure at this point wasn’t going to happen, though some part of him was still waiting for the slap across the face and a never your mind as he says dutifully, “Yessir. Thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~

Billy starts getting ready six hours early for two reasons: for one thing, the sooner he’s ready, the more time he had away from Neil and to psyche himself up to knock on Steve’s door, and for another, his hair on a normal day takes at least an hour if he doesn’t want it frizzing out or losing it’s curl or getting heavy, and this was his prom, he was willing to spend a whole day on his hair for the sake of looking nice, even if there were no pictures of it.

Of course Max, being the little nuisance she is, follows him to his bedroom when he goes to get ready, holding the door open with her foot so he couldn’t slam it in her face, and earning herself a grumbly, “What do you want, Maxine?”

“I thought you told me you weren’t going to the prom.” She says it like she caught him doing something wrong, as if plans couldn’t change, and it pisses Billy off a little bit.

“I’m not-“ He starts to explain, cutting himself off when somewhere in the house Neil pops the tab on a beer can, a tiny sound Max probably hadn’t even picked up on, but if his father was out and about in the house Billy doesn’t want to admit what he’s going to in front of him. He opens his door wider and ushers his step sister in, immediately shutting it behind her and finishing what he was saying, “I’m not going to the prom.”

She quirks an eyebrow, through Billy’s eyes maybe looking a bit too much like her step-dad when she does it, “Why’d you tell Neil you were?”

“Crashing the after party. Thought it’d look better if I said I went.” He just shrugs, half assing the lie, and, picking up on that, Max fires back smugly, “You’re lying.”

Billy snaps, no longer looking at her while he starts lining his shit up on his makeshift vanity, getting ready to get ready, “Yeah, I am. But it’s really none of your business, shitbird.”

“Are you going on a date or something?” She looks at him knowingly, if not a little surprised, and asks as it dawns on her, “Oh my god, do you have a boyfriend?”

“Maxine Nicole!” He hisses through his teeth, turning to glare at her and seeing that she’s holding his hair spray that he literally just put out, probably planning on stealing it, “Jesus, give me that.”

She lets him snatch it out of her hands and puts it back in its spot on the vanity she told him didn’t count as a vanity multiple times, rolling her eyes, “Yeesh. I’ll take that as a yes then.”

“If you’re going to tell on me Max, I swear to god-“ He starts, defensive, more vulnerability in his voice than intended, but Max insists honestly, the most not bratty she’s been since she stepped into his room, “I’m not, I wouldn’t.”

Though it doesn’t last very long, her not being a brat, because she immediately cracks a big smile and asks Billy, “Who is he though?”

“Mind your own, Max, Christ.” Billy blows her off, catching glimpse of himself in the mirror and taking note of the barely there flush to his cheeks, pointing to the door and telling his meddling step sister, “Out.”

“Awww, Billy-“ She tries to whine, but he cuts her off, “ No. Out. Of. My. Room.”

But Max offers quickly, like it’ll change his mind, “I’ll do your hair if you let me stay.”

And maybe it doesn’t immediately change his mind, but it does successfully stump him, because he’s asking her, equal parts genuine curiosity and sarcasm, “Why would I let you touch my hair?”

“No reason.” Max says, looking down at his carpet, definitely overplaying the bashfulness in bringing up her answer to appeal to Billy’s emotions, “I just thought, and maybe it’s stupid but like, most guys have their moms to fuss over them for prom, but, you know, you don’t, so I wanted to, I don’t know, be a good sister and do that for you or, whatever.“

Billy sighs, that had been exactly what he was thinking about all night last night, how his momma would be proud of him for finding a way to do this with the person, the boy he loved, and how she could’ve been there to do exactly what Max said, so he agrees, “Alright shitbird, guilt trip successful. You’re not kicked out.”

Max claps her hands together and sits on her brother's bed, getting all of Billy’s wrinkled button ups tossed at her from where they had been previously shoved, unfolded into a dresser drawer, and a command to, “Help me pick a shirt.”

She asks him while she’s unfolding all of his shirts he’d thrown at her and spreading them all out over Billy’s bed, “Are you going to button it.”

“What do you think?”

“Billy. It’s your prom.”

“Fine. One more button.”

“Two?” She tries to bargain, but he shuts it down again, making her giggle when he jokes, his tone level like it's a real threat, “One or I‘m going shirtless.”

“Then I pick.. this blue one.” Max says and puts her hand on a navy blue, quarter sleeve shirt after careful consideration of holding each button up up to Billy and thinking hard about it, but one more once over and she changes her mind, handing Billy a white shirt with snap buttons instead, “No, no, no, wait, this one with full sleeves is better. Yeah, that one for sure.”

“Sleeves it is.” Billy says taking the shirt and hanging it on the door so he’d remember to iron it, crudely shoving the rest of the button ups back into the drawer, and asking Max, “Will I need to wear like, a coat or something?”

She shrugs asking him smugly, “That depends on who it is.”

“Sensitive information.” Billy says immediately, when she looks like she’s going to argue shutting her down before she can say anything, “Which means I’m not tellin’ you.”

“Can I guess?” Max asks, making her case by reasoning with him sweetly, “Please? You wouldn’t be telling me that way.”

He genuinely considers it for a minute, and decides it’s whatever, in his head assuming there was no way Max would be able to figure it out, so he waves his hand with an eye roll, giving her the go ahead to start guessing.

Her first question is, “Okay, okay. Is it.. someone I know?”

“Yep.”

Max furrows her brow, and asks, “Do I like him?” To which Billy shrugs and responds, “Probably.”

“Um, is it…” Max snaps her fingers, an idea coming to her, “Is it Tommy?”

But again she’s shut down, because for somebody she’s supposed to probably like, she sure does a lot of complaining about Tommy, and he calls her on it, “Do you like Tommy?”

Max hums thoughtfully, taking a second guess, “I guess not. Is it Keith?”

Billy shakes his head, giving her the most confused look she’d ever seen on his face as he asks, or basically exclaims, “Who the fuck is Keith ?”

“Well excuuse me for not knowing a lot of guys around here!” Max says, defensive, making Billy roll his eyes again and turn back to digging through his drawers for a decent pair of jeans to wear with a button up, most of them stained and worn.

“Not Tommy, not Keith, who’s left?” She thinks hard then gasps, connecting something in her mind, a devious, knowing little smile on her face, “Is it Steve?”

Billy doesn’t answer her, quite frankly doesn’t know what he should say. It’s his fault, letting her guess between the only three boys his age in town she apparently knew, but now that Max knew who his mystery boyfriend was he wasn’t feeling so hot.

Honestly, some part of him is expecting Neil to come busting through the door any second, like this was some sort of run around way of finding him out, but after a few minutes of her squealing like teenage girls do, he realizes all he has to face is an excited little sister.

He flushes, and asks her over his shoulder, his forcing his tone to sound bored, “Are you done?”

“Yes.” Max says, nodding, but she smiles wide and dissolves into a fit of giggles again, covering her mouth with her hands when Billy crosses his arms, and insists, “Okay, okay, I’m done!”

“Good.” Billy says, but he can’t help cracking a smile. He angles his mirror down towards the floor and sits in front of it, telling his sister lightly to, “Help me with my hair then, shitbird.”

Max sits behind him, and runs her fingers through his hair, “You should’ve put curlers in it or something last night.”

Billy rolls his eyes, realizing as he does so for the dozen things time since Max barged in that she maybe learned that from him, deciding that doesn’t even warrant a response, and hands Max the comb and one of the many cans of hairspray off of his vanity.

She sits up on her knees, and brushes back the hairs just behind his ears that always frizz out and lose their curl, holding them at the back of his hair with a bobby pin, one of the blond ones she bought specifically for him so he could use them without immediately getting caught using ‘girly’ things, but had so far been too scared to anyways.

It looks strange on him, looks more like something Max would wear than him, but honestly he doesn’t hate it, so he lets her keep going, only frowning a little when she adds a pearl adorned hair clip, big enough it looks more like a fancy brooch, to the back of his hair.

She sprays it with so much hairspray it’s tacky, scrunching it up so his curls are tighter, and smoothing the sides so they won’t come unclipped.

When every curl is in its place and approved by Billy, who insists he’s not in the least bit emotional about what Max had said early, that thing about having nobody but her to fuss over him, she hops up, telling him to, “Wait one minute.” while she runs to her room.

She returns with her bulky pink Caboodles box, the one that has all of her mostly unused makeup in it, tapping him on the shoulder and telling him, “Alright, turn towards me.”

Her plan didn’t work though, at least he’s almost positive it was her plan to break down his defenses just so she could use him as her dress up doll anyways, but he isn’t having it, telling her quickly to “Put that shit away, Max.”

“Why? You wear makeup everyday.” Max observes simply, making Billy hiss and tell her to lower her voice, “Yeah, but never the extra strength shit that makes your eyelashes curly and your face pretty. Neil will sniff this out the second I step out of this room.”

Max just shrugs, “Then I’ll make sure he doesn’t see your face. It’s not a big deal.”

“He’ll make it into one.”

“I think your senior prom is an even bigger deal, though.”

Billy sighs, once again losing to her arguing skill, and turning to face her like she told him, “You owe me if I get caught like this.”

Max rolls her eyes and does her magic, each second that passes Billy regretting agreeing to turning the control of his appearance over to his little sister, expecting to come out of this looking like her Diva doll, fidgeting more and more the longer it takes her.

Just before he’s about to panic, Max tells him, “All done.” and lets him look in the mirror.

He blinks repeatedly at his own reflection, surprised to see he didn’t have sparkly eyeshadow up to his eyebrows or rouge on his cheeks, just a tasteful amount of lip gloss and a copper tint to his eyelids, framed by darker than usual eyelashes and the smallest bit of eyeliner.

She gets impatient after a few minutes of Billy not saying anything, and pushes his shoulders to turn him around again to look at her, staring at him until she decides what she thinks is missing.

She hurries to the upright jewelry box in her mother’s room, and brings him back a clip on pearl earring for his right ear, opposite the chain of silver stars she already picked for his left.

“Here, it’ll look better if you have earrings in both ears.” She reaches up, pushing his hair out of the way and clipping the earring on, letting him do the screw on the back himself so she didn’t make it too tight.

Billy lowers his hand and scrunches his nose, leaning in slightly towards the mirror, “They don’t match.”

“It looks nice though. You look really pretty.” She tells him honestly, not realizing the impact the simple compliment, though not so simple for somebody like him, has on her brother until he’s trying to subtly blink away tears behind mascara coated lashes, pretending like that wasn’t the case and telling her, “Whatever, it’s too late to change it now if you want to be on time.”

He does one last once over himself in the mirror, though he knows he’s going to be using his car windows for the same purpose at the last minute, and shoos Max out of his bedroom door, trying to hurry out of the house before Neil can stop him and see him all dolled up.

He’s got one hand around the door knob and his keys through his belt loop when his dad does stop him, his heart just about stopping as Neil calls from the other room, “Do you have flowers for the girl?”

“I have a corsage in the car.” Billy lies, hoping his tone is sure enough for Neil to buy it.

“Good. Just remember what I said, boy.” Neil says, still from the living room, so Billy lets his posture relax a bit and breathes out a quiet sight, saying casually, “Get Max to her friends, don’t spend any money, and don’t come home drunk, I got it, dad.”

“Watch the attitude, William.” Neil says low, the air going still for a minute until he adds, “And have fun tonight.”

“Yessir.” Billy says, ushering Max quickly out the front door, sighing when it closes behind them.

~~~~~~~

Billy drops Max off at the Wheeler’s, just driving around Hawkins until it’s time to show up at Steve’s, making sure to stop past the Holloway’s place just in case Neil went asking around wanting to know if anybody saw his car in the neighborhood.

At 8, he decides he doesn’t want to show up empty handed, buying Steve some flowers like he’d lied and said he had for Heather from Melvald’s, not understanding the knowing look the cashier lady has in her eye when he brings a dinky bouquet of flowers to the checkout counter.

He rings the doorbell at 8:30 on the dot, checking himself out one last time in Steve’s window while he waits, fifty cent roses held behind his back.

On the other side of the door, Steve stands in the dining room, now adorned with cheap party decorations that would’ve made his mother pitch a fit, waiting a whole thirty seconds before he goes to answer it, trying to collect himself first.

Billy smiles wide, and, as cheesy as it was, seeing him standing there all dressed up taking Steve’s breath away and stealing the words right off his tongue, Billy having to invite himself in because Steve was busy catching flies.

He hands him the flowers, nodding towards the silver tinsel wrapped around the banister, the stars hanging in the archway that lead into the living room that were almost identical to the ones they hung from the basketball hoops at school and saying, “Place looks nice.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” Steve says, quickly adding, “You know, you look nice too.”

Billy smiles softly, looking at him with that ‘you’re an idiot Steve Harrington’ look he was so used to by now, “C’mon, Stevie, we’ve been dating for four months now, you don’t gotta be all awkward with me still.”

“I’m not, I mean it, you look really good, Billy.” Steve says, smiling now that it’s his turn to fluster Billy.

“Oh by the way, I almost forgot. Got you this just because.” He remembers, handing Billy a box with a floral pin inside, pink roses with lace, and telling him expectantly, “It’s a boutonnière.”

But Billy doesn't open it, just raises an eyebrow and says, “I thought you did corsages for prom?”

“Corsages are for the girls.”

“Ah. Got it.” He says it like he already knew that, like he was hoping maybe Steve didn’t, so Steve offers, not really understanding it, but knowing what he means all the same, “It came as a set, I still have the corsage upstairs, if you want it.”

Billy nods and pins the boutonnière to Steve’s shirt instead, explaining simply, “Just so we match.”

Steve runs upstairs and gets the corsage, giving Billy a minute to actually appreciate just how much went into decorating this place, snickering to himself when he imagines Steve having to stand on a step ladder to put the string lights so high up on the wall.

Steve tosses Billy the box from the top of the steps, letting him open it while he comes back down and ties it around his wrist, having to tie it twice because he put it on the wrong way the first time.

Billy asks him, shaking his wrist to make sure the bow is tight enough, “So what’s our official plan for tonight, Stevie?”

“Honestly I don’t really know. I’m sort of just winging it here, I don’t know what you even do at prom.”

“You never went at all?” Billy asks, surprised miss priss hadn’t dragged him along to their junior prom last year.

“Nope. Like I said, overrated.” Steve confirms, and Billy smiles wide, saying, “I’m sure I got a few ideas in mind then.”

~~~~~~~~

Billy’s idea basically consisted mainly of drinking all that fancy wine Steve had gotten out of the cellar specifically for this, shoving his tongue down Steve’s throat, and complaining about the real prom happening up at the school.

Honestly, Steve suspects things wouldn’t have been so different had they actually gone, but he can tell the fact that they weren’t able to go was still bothering Billy, judging by the sheer number of times he brings it up.

After what must be the tenth time that night Billy brought up Heather and Robin getting to go, Steve asks him, “Do you wish we were there?”

“No, that’s the thing. I couldn’t give a damn less about the whole dance, a thousand times over I’d rather just be here with you.”

“But?”

“But I wish we had the choice to go, you know? It’s just, bugging me that if we had genuinely wanted to go, we couldn’t’ve.” Billy rants, very obviously having been holding this in, “And I keep thinking about all the other gay kids who don’t have a big empty house or a safe place to do what we’re doin’.”

“Yeah, but it’s really not a big deal. Prom is pretty much all for the parents anyways, and the way I see it we, and all the other people like us, we’re so used to disappointing them, what’s it matter if we don’t go?”

“Just, I don’t care about the event or whatever, but it feels like we’re missing out on something. Like maybe we should’ve just swallowed our pride and went with Hetty and Robin anyways.”

Steve stands up abruptly, picking up their wine glasses and kicking the coffee table all the way over to the far wall to clear the floor, offering Billy his hand, “I know you feel like you’re robbing me of something by us not going, but we don’t need all of that for this to be good. I meant it when I said that’s superficial to me anyways. We can make it mean something to us.”

Billy looks up at him, still bothered deep down, but out of ways to argue about it, and accepts Steve’s hand, wrapping his arms around the back of his neck when he pulls him close by his waist.

It’s not really a slow dance as much as it is an excuse to just be close to one another, to breathe each other in and sneak kisses and be sappy, but that’s was this whole thing was about. They could’ve just hung out tonight if they wanted, and honestly they probably would’ve anyways, but they called it a prom, put that title to it that made both of their hearts pitapat.

Steve had always heard, even felt it a few times before, that when you were with the person you loved, everyone and everything else would melt away around you until it was just you, but somehow, this was different than that.

Because that would mean there were times when his world didn’t revolve around Billy, and that there was ever a moment when he could focus on anything but the boy he loved, and that just wasn’t true.

This wasn’t performative, wasn’t a relationship formed on the status of being able to show off that they were better for being in love either, this was simply Billy and Steve, dancing in their tennis shoes on Ruthie's carpet, snickering when a particularly sappy song came on the radio, barely able to be separated long enough to turn to side B, falling in love all over again under the stars.

~~~~~~~

When the wine bottles are all empty and the stack of records has been spun through, Steve’s schnockered, and insisting they get a picture, searching the house for an old Polaroid camera and making Billy stand with him in front of the fairy lights strung

They only had three chances to get a good picture, no new packs of film and only a few left in the camera, so Steve took all three.

The first one was upside down and so off center he was hardly in it, Steve being maybe a little more drunk than he thought, and the second Billy closed his eyes because the flash was too bright, but it didn’t matter too much anyways because the film didn’t develop properly and the picture was nothing but reddish-yellow tinted blackness anyways.

The third one by some chance turns out fine, maybe a little blurred because he moved and still not quite centered right, but it’s a picture, something to hold onto the memory of this night forever when the hangover wore off and things got a little blurry, and that was important to the both of them, for different reasons.

As soon as it develops, a little 8 by 10 of Billy kissing his cheek, Steve runs upstairs to hang it on the cork board above his desk before it gets misplaced, dating it and doodling a little heart with a S+B inside it, hiding the picture behind a ribbon for a middle school art contest and a picture of him and his parents.

Billy hooks his chin over his shoulder, his hands traveling a bit lower than Steve’s waist this time as he watches what he’s doing. He hums and asks, when Steve stands up straighter and turns in his arms to face him, “So? What have you got planned for the after prom, Stevie?”

#stranger things fanfiction #harringrove #billy x steve #billy & max #steve harrington #billy hargrove #max mayfield #ej writer #story by ej!#slipped in the teensiest bit of billy w/ ocd because i can #also gnc billy #there’s a lot more characters but they don’t have major enough roles to tag #posted to ao3 yesterday

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livefromtheelephantsfoot · 4 years

Text

I am one month into college and I want to tell those of you struggling with high school that it's going to be okay. Those four years were the worst of my life and I was worried college would be harder, more stressful, that I wouldn't be smart enough or driven enough and would end up dropping out.

I can't speak for all college students-- hell, I can't even speak for my future self. But I can say that right here, right now, I am... happy? I don't even know what that word means anymore, but I have friends and like my classes and don't feel sad and empty all the time.

My whole life, I just wanted to get to this point. 1. Get good grades 2. Get into a good school 3. Get scholarships 4. ??? 5. Profit. I've never been ambitious beyond what I had to be, and I was scared that without that motivation, which was really a fear of debt and poverty and unfulfilled needs, I would lose the will to try.

But I didn't. I am relearning what it means to do things because I like them. To study because I want to know things. I don't see the financial aid I got as a ticket to success but the freedom to fail. If I graduate with a "useless" degree and work minimum wage it will be ok because I know how to scrimp and save, and I know how to scratch my creative itch without it taking up most of my income.

My situation is unique to myself, but if I divide myself by my identities I can perhaps give limited advice.

To LGBTQIA teens: if the people around you are cruel, I am sorry and I want you to know that this is not normal. There will come a time and place where you will expect decency from people.

To ADHD teens: school is hell, amiright? Here's the thing: a subject you enjoy taught by a teacher who cares is the most incredible thing in the world. If you're not an academic you'll find this experience in skills classes and trade learning, but if you are an academic I cannot recommend college highly enough. Even if high school was godawful and you never want to see a textbook again, just try a community college class that looks cool. Once school becomes fun, there is no turning back. (Also, I'd bet good money that a large portion of college professors are ND.)

To Jewish teens: not a lot of specific advice to offer, but oh boy will you meet a lot of other Jewish people at college. If you're worried about antisemitism, there is TONS of info online about campus culture, and even ranking lists for which places are most welcoming (same goes for lgbtq teens!).

To teens with mental illnesses: this one's hard, because experiences and struggles vary a whole lot. But focus on what makes you curious. No matter how swamped you are in apathy or despair or stress, there's gotta be something that makes you want to hang on and see what comes next. Make "fuck around and find out" your new life motto. Can you find something curious in a tv show? A class? A friendship? What do you want to find out badly enough to wait and see?

To otherwise nerdy, isolated, or awkward teens: as you get older, people will be more accommodating. You will have access to new sources of like-minded people. You will have more resources to dive into your interests or work through social problems.

And to every teenager struggling with school, parents, relationships, mental health: the control over your life that comes with independence is incredible. Just wait and see.

#long post #lgbtqia #lgbt #queer #Actually adhd #Adhd #Advice #Jewish #Judaism

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wangxianfics · 4 years

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Hey, I hope this isn't too much of a bother as you probably get a lot of messages/requests, but can you recommend some fics with a focus on 1) a plot that includes the juniors being spectators/commentators to wangxian's developing relationship, and also 2) wwx getting hurt and lwj getting scared/angry/vulnerable because of it? thank you!

Hi nonny!

We’re going to answer your first question here because we’ve covered the other ask in another post that’s already in our drafts.

Our recs for “Juniors on Wangxian”:

Canon Compliant

A Dramatic Reading by pupeez4eva (5+K, Not Rated)

(Post-Canon, Humor, In-Universe RPF, Public Confessions, Getting Together)

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian make out in a room full of Sect Leaders, Jiang Cheng tearfully declares his love for his estranged brother, Sect Leaders Yao and Ouyang beg for the Yiling Patriarch’s forgiveness, and Lan Qiren openly welcomes a new nephew-in-law into his family.

None of them want to be doing any of this. Thanks to the Juniors, they don’t exactly have a choice.

(Or, wherein the Juniors accidentally write a cursed fanfiction, and everyone has to reenact their parts in it, or potentially cease to exist).

Cut sleeve (m/m), slow burn, pining (lots of pining) by Lucky_Moony (6+K, Teen)

(Canon Compliant, In-Universe RPF, Crack, Fluff, Junior Quartet, Zhuiyi)

Nothing to see here, just Lan Jingyi writing fanfiction about his favorite ship: Wangxian.

How Lan Sizhui discovered his best friend was writing romantic stories about his parents.

the spice of life by whats_the_mintTea (10K, Teen)

(Post-Canon, 5+1, Humor, The Juniors ship Wangxian, Getting Together)

Lan Qiren sputters and turns a livid eye towards his nephew. “Oh?” the doctor interjects before the vein on the other’s temple bulges too much, “And what does Wei Wuxian do with his collection of herbs?”

“Cooking,” Lan Wangji responds placidly, though Lan Sizhui notices a tug of his lips upward. “Crude medicines from the roots for emergencies. He also enjoys a bolder flavor that the Cloud Recesses does not supply.”

“Yeah, Wei-qianbei isn’t trying to overthrow the Lan sect gardeners or anything. He just uses his spices to make us sweat or to make tea for Sizhui,” Lan Jingyi adds defensively.

Or, 5 times Wei Wuxian helps his favorite juniors with the power of spice, and 1 time they helped him back.

coming of age, coming alive by narie (16+K, Teen, WIP - 2/3)

(Canon Compliant, Found Family, Juniors, Coming of Age, POV Outsider)

"That Mo Xuanyu," Jingyi grumbled, "I don't like him. He has the thickest face. And he's dishonest, too - he's no more of a lunatic than I am. So why does he keep pretending anyhow?"

Sizhui hummed his acknowledgement. The way their new guest's moods could shift from shrillness to stunned stillness seemed something other than lunacy to him too. "Hanguang-jun trusts him," he said, when the silence between them made it clear Jingyi desired more conversation.

"I know." It was, apparently, a source of deep frustration for him. "I just can't understand why."

–

The summer they meet Senior Mo, Sizhui breaks the rules against gossiping more than once.

━━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━━

Modern AU

Operation Old Men by chiharu (37+K, Not Rated)

(Modern AU, Boarding School, Single Parents, Juniors, Everyone Lives, Matchmaking, Family Dynamics, Reunion, POV Outsider)

An ill-fated parent teacher conference reunites Jin Ling's wayward uncle with Sizhui's father. AKA: A matchmaking disaster as told by Jin Ling, Sizhui, and Jingyi.

Jin Ling knows he’s in deep trouble even before reporting to Headmaster Lan’s office, but the words “your uncle will be here soon” still strike the fear of God in him. His only consolation is that Jingyi and Sizhui’s guardians are also in the office, Jingyi’s mom already lecturing her sheepish-looking son. Lan-ayi only stops when Sizhui’s father, a quiet and tall man in white, clears his throat, causing her to engage him in one-sided smalltalk.

This is a disaster. Jin Ling had spent such a nice break at home for Mid-Autumn Festival, and Fairy’s presence had soothed his homesickness after returning to boarding school in Gusu. He knows pets aren’t allowed, but who is going to report Jin Ling when his father pays good money for a private suite in the dorms? Then there was the incident with Jingyi, a box of mooncakes, and a door left ajar. Long story short, he spent an hour chasing Fairy down the halls with Sizhui and Jingyi before finding his dog nosing up to a very angry Headmaster Lan.

you're two steps away but i i'll take three steps towards you by chesire (kierenwalkers) (14+K, Teen)

(Modern AU, High School, Fluff, Humor, Bad Matchmaking, Getting Together, Juniors, POV Outsider)

“Can you imagine Lan Wangji riding a motorcycle?” Jin Ling asks. The three of them stare at each other in dead silence. Sizhui shivers. The thought of the ever-stoic Lan Wangji on a motorcycle, complete with a helmet and leather jacket makes the hairs on the back of Jin Ling’s neck prickle.

Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are, amazingly enough, not together yet despite the loads of sexual tension between them. Fortunately for Lan Jingyi, this means he can play matchmaker. Unfortunately for Jin Ling, this means he's somehow roped into godawful plans.

For more similar fics check out our disciples and outsider POV tag!

#Anonymous #disciples #povoutsider #othersonwangxian #shippingwangxian #ask #masterpost

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johnnymundano · 5 years

Text

Prom Night (2008)

Directed by Nelson McCormick Screenplay by J.S. Cardone Music by Paul Haslinger Country: Canada, United States Running time: 88 minutes CAST Brittany Snow as Donna Keppel Scott Porter as Bobby Jessica Stroup as Claire Davis Dana Davis as Lisa Hines Collins Pennie as Ronnie Heflin Kelly Blatz as Michael Allen James Ransone as Detective Nash Brianne Davis as Crissy Lynn Kellan Lutz as Rick Leland Mary Mara as Mrs. Waters Ming-Na Wen as Dr. Elisha Crowe Johnathon Schaech as Richard Fenton Idris Elba as Detective Winn Jessalyn Gilsig as Aunt Karen Linden Ashby as Uncle Jack

Theft Alert: All images from IMDB

Donna Keppel (Brittany Snow; working hard here, bless) is the only survivor of a family massacre perpetrated by Richard Fenton (Johnathon Schaech; looking very Sean William Scott), a creepy teacher with a boner for her. Tonight Donna’s Prom Night is being held at a swanky hotel, but tonight is also the night Richard escapes from The Home For Creepy Teachers With Wayward Boners. Everything you expect to happen happens, just a lot less interestingly than you would expect for a slasher movie, certainly for one that cost $20 million. Prom Night (2008) is like an experiment see if it possible to make a slasher flick so inoffensive and dumb it could be screened at tea time on The Disney®©™ Channel. It turns out it is in fact possible to make such a thing, but unfortunately no one would want to watch it. It actually makes you hanker for Prom Night (1980), as low-budget and timeworn as that disco slasher may well be.

For starters, Prom Night (2008) is not a remake of Prom Night (1980) despite what anyone says. Fuck that noise, someone obviously just wanted to use the title. End. Of. They are both slasher movies which take place on Prom Night, but that’s it. I know this because I watched Prom Night (1980) recently for the first time, and last night I watched Prom Night (2008) for the last time. Prom Night (1980) has a mystery surrounding the identity of the killer, which keeps you awake and which also has a surprisingly strong emotional pay off, whereas in Prom Night (2008) we know who the killer is from the off, which is boring and has no pay off at all. Essentially then, this is the difference between the two, one is a bit amateurish but very entertaining, while the other is slick as snot on a door handle and as dull as ditch water.

Ultimately only one Prom Night successfully evokes the youthful exuberance of the night in question, which is important as I am 50 and English, so I have no personal experience whatsoever of a Prom Night. Also: get off my lawn! Prom Night (1980) makes it look like a fantastically enjoyable event at which hormonally crazed kids dance enthusiastically to fantastically simplistic disco. Apparently the movie was shot with the cast dancing to real, popular disco hits until the makers realised you have to actually pay to use other people’s music (?!who knew!?). Being a bit strapped for cash they had the soundtrack composer Carl Zittrer cook up some home-made disco beats at roughly the same tempo so the visuals and sound would still gel. Carl Zitterer did an excellent job. A bit too excellent in fact, since the similarity was still so pronounced a $10 million lawsuit was brought against the movie (and settled for $50,000 – phew!). A small price to pay for one of the most cheerful and fun dance sequences I’ve ever seen, particularly as I didn’t pay it. Prom Night (1980) is a decent slasher flick but the dance floor sequence is just pure joy. Prom Night (2008) makes Prom Night look like a shit night club where nobody knows anyone else there; seriously, the interaction of the core group with everyone else, who they apparently have known for years, is ridiculously minimal. And the songs are the kind of heatedly sexual nursery rhymes I am generationally disposed to dislike. I just don’t get it, basically. You crazy kids! “Who’s your daddy? And is he rich like me?” isn’t so much a song lyric to me as a reason to call the sex police. And while technically the dancing in Prom Night (2008) is smoother, the dancing in Prom Night (1980) is more realistically ramshackle and energetic.

Also, in Prom Night (1980) the killer, whoever they are, is refreshingly human (they slip on the slippery floor at one point, etc) but in Prom Night (2008) the killer is a tediously efficient killer; which is odd because he’s just a school teacher with a creepy boner for one of his female students, which explains none of his killing efficacy. By rights he should just be crying while wanking over the school yearbook, as I imagine most creepy schoolteachers with boners for their female students do. Maybe creepy schoolteachers with boners for their female students find that reductive and a little offensive of me, and that’s a real crying shame there, because the last thing I want to do is offend creepy teachers with boners for their female students. Every school has that one teacher who dates his female students “secretly”, and as the female student ages out of school he replaces her with a new female student. Maybe you are that guy. In which case you need to hear this: Dude, you are creepy. No one is impressed; they are creeped out. Preying on children is not cool. And if they are in school they are children, I don’t care how developed their chest is. A light prison sentence or some intensive therapy are what you need, creepy teacher dude, not high fives and Budweiser with the bros. (I do apologise for the fact I went to school in the 1970s leading to my not acknowledging that creepy schoolteachers can also be female, and the students being creeped on can be both female and male; with any combination of gender being creeper and creeped upon. I guess everyone sex creeping on everyone else, well, that’s progress? Well done, everyone. Personally I would have tried to phase out the whole creepy-schoolteacher-with-a-boner-for-their-student thing but I guess expanding it across the gender spectrum is certainly one way to go.)

In terms of cast Prom Night (1980) only really has Jamie Lee Curtis and Leslie Nielsen as “names” but everyone is okay, and the characters are all quite quirky and sympathetic. Prom Night (2008) might not have many “names” but it has a far more professional level of acting, which is a win for it. But, alas, while there are real actors in Prom Night (2008) and they all try hard with what they are given, what they are given is so lacklustre and generic it is dismaying how much effort they probably had to put in just to make the characters seem as bland as they do. There’s the black couple; he’s good at sports, she’s a bit sassy. There’s the co-dependant bickering couple; he’s controlling and drinks too much, she’s whiny and, well, she’s just whiny. The gym teacher is sparky and enthusiastic like absolutely no gym teacher I’ve ever met in my half a decade existence, but very like every gym teacher in American high school set shows on Nickleodeon. The most interesting character is Detective Nash, and that’s only because James Ransone appears amusingly miscast; unless a cop who resembles Christian Bale if he was a candleblogger is your idea of a movie cop. Obviously that’s nobody’s idea of a movie cop, luckily though Idris Elba knows what everyone expects from a Movie Cop and delivers it with lightly self-parodic gusto. Of course Idris Elba is unarguably a charismatic screen presence; I know that because most of the things I’ve seen him in are godawful but he is always a pleasure. Maybe it’s just unfortunate choices on my part and I’m actually missing a string of entertainment pearls starring Idris Elba, even so Prom Night (2008) would come in on the poopy side of the mark sheet. But, again, even in something as poopy as Prom Night (2008) Idris Elba is fun. Here he’s The Big City Cop so he walks like he’s prolapsed and rasps his dialogue like he regularly gargles lava-hot cawfee. The enthusiasm Elba invests in playing this poorly written part makes up a bit for the utter idiocy of the character. Ultimately though nothing could distract from Detective Winn’s stupidity, so colossally boneheaded are his actions in the movie.

Prom Night (2008) seems to take place in an alternate universe where every authority figure is a moron. In a better slasher flick this might be a genuine attempt at a point, but here it’s just bad writing. Sure, you might think that everyone in authority in the universe we actually inhabit is a moron, and at this point in history you would have a strong case, counsellor. Exhibit one being our current lying coward of a Prime Minister (I write this in the year 2020). But the authority figures in Prom Night (2008) are actually more excessive in their cretinous obliviousness than even that lying shyster. Having (eventually) realised that the killer is loose Idris Elba visits Donna’s guardians, who decide not to bring her home immediately or have her placed in police custody for her own protection, because it might “embarrass her” in front of her friends and put a big downer on this magical night of awful dresses, terrible music and light fingerbanging. Idris Elba, a policeman remember, goes along with this, which is kind of epically dumb, but then he raises the dumbness stakes by going to the Hotel Swank to keep an eye on Donna. Literally. He actually stands by a bit of silver scaffold in the dance hall for hours, and stares at the back of her head, occasionally rubbing the top of his own head and pursing his lips. Incredibly this does nothing to locate and apprehend the killer, who is merrily killing staff and guest alike at his own convenience. Idris Elba even asks at the desk if they have seen the killer, even showing them a picture (which is some amazing police work for Prom Night (2008)). But when asked by the desk clerk if he should be concerned Idris Elba says ”no”. Later when the fact that the killer is in the hotel killing people can’t even be avoided by Idris Elba he pulls the fire alarm and the entire hotel decants chaotically onto the street. Because there’s absolutely no way the killer could get out unnoticed during that, right? Absolutely no way at all. Nu-uh! Essentially most of the people in Prom Night (2008) who die do so because Idris Elba’s character has all the brains of a shoe.

And a lot of people do die in Prom Night (2008), but don’t get too excited slasher flick fans, because it doesn’t really feel like it because the kills are largely inoffensive stuff; which in a slasher movie is kind of offensive in itself. Prom Night (2008) tries to distract from the lack of splatter with sudden bursts of convulsive editing which just makes it look like the killer is over amorously cuddling people to the floor, or re-enacting his favourite Super Bowl tackles. The only clue that his victims are dead comes later when we get to see the body with some dainty little red marks on their clothes. So averse is Prom Night (2008) to actually getting bloody that one character has their throat slashed and so little claret splashes it’s preposterous. If you were asleep next to somebody with their throat cut you’d wake up sodden in the red stuff, you wouldn’t have to turn them over to discover they were dead. Maybe Prom Night (2008) should have invested some of that $20 million in a medical professional acting as a consultant to tell them that throat wounds tend to, you know, bleed profusely since it’s all the blood inside you coming out of that new hole that kills you. Okay, sometimes it’s the shock of blood loss that offs you but, whatever, there’s a lot of blood involved. There is, I admit, one artfully shot kill where an arc of blood spatters a sheet of plastic but mostly the effects in Prom Night (2008) are less Tom Savini and more Tom and Jerry.

Sadly then, when it comes to this particular Prom Night (2008) you’re better off staying at home and washing your hair.

#Prom Night #Movies #canada #United States #2008 #The 2000s #Slashers #Horror #Nelson McCormick #Brittany Snow #Idris Elba #Creepy teachers #Johnathon Schaech

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surveys-at-your-service · 5 years

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Survey #239

i just want to sincerely apologize if my surveys take a negative nosedive again. i know this one’s kinda grim and i don’t want to make that a routine, but things are just rough right now and i’m not gonna lie on a survey, y’know.

Do you know anyone who works at McDonald’s? Not that I'm aware of. Do you know anyone who plays heaps of sports? Probably through school. Have you ever been suspended from school? No. Where do your cousins live? Aaaaaaall over the U.S. Have you met any of your second cousins? Possibly at some point? Do you like the All-American Rejects? I like "Move Along" and "It Ends Tonight" is good, but that's all off the top of my head. Oh wait, of course there's "Gives You Hell." When was the last time you wore a skirt? WOW I have ZERO clue. Probably not since elementary years. Have you ever finished a whole video game? Plenty. If so, which one(s)? There are way too many. Do you know anyone with a pet snake? Me, Sara, probably others. Which one of your friends has great music taste? Sara. Was the last person you hung out with single? That would be my young niece and nephew... so yeah. Have you ever attended a private school? I'm a private college now. Have you ever been in an abusive relationship? No, thank Christ. Have you ever cooked for anyone other than yourself? I made breakfast for Sara once. If your phone has a hole for phone charms, is it on the left or right side? I don't have one. Would you rather live in the city, the suburbs, or the rural area? Kinda like... suburban mixed with rural. I don't wanna be totally isolated, particularly away from necessary stores and such, but I also do NOT wanna be swarmed by people. Maybe like a loose neighborhood in the woods outside a small town? Do you know someone who is really ambidextrous? Sara. Did you use a pencil today? No. Are you adopted? Nope. Have you ever had your car break down on you? Never when I've driven, not that that's been much. With Mom, yes. Dad, idr. Jason's prom night, yeah; his truck broke down otw home at a stop light. Oof. Who was the last person that cried in your presence? My mom. It's the worst. When was the last time you ate at your favorite restaurant? Oh wow, probably not since my last birthday. What was the last thing someone gave you? A close family friend/my former teacher lent me a $20 just in case I needed anything while my mom was up in NY. Can you write your name in a foreign language? My first name (at least) is the same in German; even though "y" doesn't exist in the language, I guess it does for foreign names?? Idk about my last name. Who is the person you often go to for venting? Sara. Do you keep an actual journal or diary? No, not anymore. I did briefly when I had that WILD and totally random Jason obsession episode, but once I came off that godawful medicine and I went back to normal, I deleted it. Have you ever been prescribed Vicodin? That sounds very familiar... Maybe? Perhaps that's what was prescribed after my surgery? Have you ever cheated on someone without them finding out about it? Well considering I've never cheated and never would, I can't answer this. Was the last person you kissed male or female? Female. Who were you with the last time you went swimming? Colleen, at the beach. Does your dining table currently have place mats on it? No; we don't even eat at it. What was the last thing you cooked in an oven? I myself have literally never used an oven. I'm scared to. Oh wait, yeah I have... on some occasions where Mom needed me to put something in there or take something out, but idr what. But boy and I can tell you without memory that I was jumpy as hell about it. Is it hard for you to be “just friends” with the opposite sex? No. It's difficult for me to like-like people, especially men when you consider I'm generally afraid of them, on top of I'm just paranoid and don't trust easily. Do you prefer wheat or white bread? Wheat. Do you have an electric toothbrush? No, but coincidentally, I actually have that on my Christmas wishlist. Have you ever had an “exotic” or “abnormal” pet? Do you consider a Chinese water dragon "exotic?" Then I have a ball python morph. Have you ever eaten lobster? No, and considering crab is nauseating, I doubt lobster would be too different. What is your grade point average (if you’re still in school)? I don't know right now and don't know where to find it. Have you ever played croquet? Oh yeah. My sisters and I LOVED that shit as kids. Who was the last person you called? Dad. Have you ever watched Ghostbusters? No, believe it or not. When was the last time you drew a picture? Yikes... been a while. Not since I started a concept drawing of encompassing a panic attack in a meerkat form, as I tend to do. I haven't touched it in months. It's right on the second shelf of the table beside me, so... my only remaining excuse as to not finish it is that the paper is horribly wrinkled now. Are you happy? Not exactly. Should you be doing something now? I could be doing the practice exam work my math professor gave us all considering it's extra credit, but. Yeah. I'm absolutely awful at math and barely passing but I don't exactly need another stressor right now. Is there a smoke detector on every floor of your house? We only have one floor. What was the last kind of soup you ate? I tried vegetable soup anyway when I got my tongue pierced because I literally could not eat solids for over a week, but I'm a picky asshole who didn't like it so wasted the can. I had to survive almost exclusively on meal replacement shakes and popsicles. Warning from the wise: you want your tongue pierced? You better fucking want it bad because healing is a P R O C E S S. Or at least mine was, having to get it re-done and all... Have you ever had to do a class in summer school? No. Have you ever went a year without getting your hair cut? I don't think a year... but maybe? Do you think you could go a week without sugar? Considering sugar is in like... EVERYTHING, probably no? Would you be willing to go one day each week without meat? I don't really pay attention, but I probably already do. I'd like to eat as little meat as possible. Hell, I wish I could go full-on vegan. Do you feel comfortable telling people how much you weigh? NO. Do you have any talents that your friends don’t know about? No. Are you any good at sewing? Never tried, not interested. Has anyone ever interviewed you about one of your hobbies/talents? No. Would you ever consider experimenting with drugs? Marijuana for medical purposes if I didn't have to smoke it. I'm not smoking anything, I don't care what it is. What’s been tugging on your heart lately? I guess life in general. Mortality, death. Teddy died in my arms, I saw my grandmother physically ravaged by cancer, and just life hasn't been the kindest lately. I've been thinking about how time just flies, how every moment should be cherished even though it's so fucking hard, and just yeah. I don't wanna go down this rabbit hole. Are you comfortable with who you are? Have you accepted who you are? I don't know dude I shouldn't be taking a survey during like an existential crisis lol. What is the last thing you did that made you feel guilty? Decided to get some really unhealthy fries with my dinner. Would you have sex with the last person you texted? It's not a matter of "would," I want to. I may have already, I don't really know what separates foreplay from lesbian sex. Do you consider weed, marijuana, pot, etc. a drug? This isn't even an argument anymore, it's fact. It's a mind-altering substance. "Drug" does not always equate to bad, either. Are you planning on kissing anyone tomorrow evening? It'd be nice. Do you require a lot of private time? Oh yeah, but way less than I used to. I get depressed if I'm alone for too long now. Have you ever done something humiliating while drunk? N/A What is your favorite classic Disney movie? The Lion King. Do you like looking at old photographs? Yeah, usually. Do you enjoy puzzles? Yeah. Do you prefer painting or drawing? Drawing by a long shot. I'm taking a painting course this upcoming semester though, so hopefully that'll up my skill and thus enjoyment of it. Do you ever wear high heels? No, I don't have a reason to. Do you use belts? No, considering I never wear anything with belt loops. When was the last time you played Uno? Oh my fucking god, it's been forever, thankfully. When I lived with Colleen, as did her younger sister, we played Uno a lot, and then, AND THEN, came the night Chelsea dyed my hair red. Mind you, the ONLY TIME dyeing my hair had been truly successful and long-lasting. The process took hours, and we played Uno round after Uno round... and now I literally hate it. What do you like better, kiwis or pineapple? Oh man, I love both, but I gotta say kiwi. Are you trying to grow out your hair? No, I actually need to cute it again. What is your favorite perfume/body spray/cologne? Don't have one, really. Have you ever wanted to try karate? Not seriously. How often do you drink water? Ah yikes... I really fell out of my regular habit of drinking multiple bottles daily. Do you ever wear headbands? No. How many video games do you own? A lot. There's like a huge CD case in a living room drawer full of them. I've been considering making an EBay or something to sell a shitload of them as I'm sure a lot are actually pretty valuable now, but I think a lot about how I want to pass them down to my current and possibly future nieces and nephews when they get to a certain age to figure video games out or even have a console that can play PS1-PS3. Have you ever been to a casino? If so, which one(s)? No. What’s your favorite suburb in the city you live in? Why would you... name that on the Internet...? Besides that even, I pay no attention to suburbs' names I happen to pass. Have you ever visited a sex shop? No. I don't know if I could ever muster up the courage to even go in one. I'm the type that would just order online. What’s your favorite place to get pizza? I'm a basic Domino's bitch. How many times have you been to the beach? Multiple, but not a LOT. I have little reason to ever go, and it's never my idea, that's for sure. Has there ever been a fire inside your house? Tell me the story. Childhood home. Trying the Jiffy Pop popcorn that you make over the stove. Next thing y'know the thing is seriously on fire and we had to use the fire extinguisher. Fuck you, Jiffy Pop, the harbinger of the next fucking idiots moving in setting the entire house on fire thanks to the stove too. Have you ever had a scary encounter with a wild animal? No, besides like bees 'n the like being near me. Have you ever had a spray tan? No. Do you own any sports bras? Where’d you get them from? No, but I'd like at least one. Wouldn't know what to use it for, it's not like I go jogging or anything, but. I think it'd be good to have at least one. Have you ever had sex in a kitchen? No. What’s the most expensive restaurant you’ve ever eaten at? I have zero clu- no wait I'm gonna guess the Italian restaurant we went to on Sara's birthday, but that's just a guess judging by how it was fancy as fuck. Who crosses your mind the most? Sara. Have you ever been on a scavenger hunt? Probably as a kid. Ever been to an auction? No. would you ever get acupuncture? omg no Ever got stitches? At least twice. What is a must have on your french fries? At least some salt. Entirely saltless fries are boring. How do you like your meat cooked…medium rare? well done? Nothing less than medium well. If meat tastes even a little bit beneath lukewarm I can't take that shit. Are there two colors that you just simply despise? Bright yellow and puke-green. What do you usually do with recurring dreams? ... Nothing? What CAN you do? Have you ever been told you were hot by a complete stranger? I don't think someone has used the term "hot," but I know I've been called pretty, at least. Do you want to be single or with someone? I want to be with Sara. It kinda feels like we still are, like no feelings have changed, we're just not "official" anymore and not "bound" to one another. Have you ever had a sleepover with the opposite sex? I actually have twice (or thrice?) platonically with my younger neighbor FOREVER ago. We were still kids. Then there was a big (birthday?) party at my place where Juan stayed the night, and then I believe there was an occasion Girt totally knocked out on the couch so... I guess it turned into a "sleepover?" lmao Who are you closest to in your family? My mom. Who were the last 3 people to text you? Sara, Mom, and my sister. Have you ever dated someone in jail? No, and I wouldn't unless it was for something incredibly stupid or I'm aware was a false charge. What’s a movie you cannot BARE to ever watch again? Nothing's coming off the top of my head. Who got you hooked on the addiction you're addicted to (If you have one)? ... I just connected it all in my head. Jason got me into the Amnesia game. I got into custom stories for it. I was playing one one day. I got stuck. I YouTubed it for help. Guess. Who. I. Fuckin'. Found. This is a revelation; I have discovered the main purpose of my and Jason's relationship. Perhaps things do happen for a reason lmao. Are you a little bit cautious around horses? Do they scare you a bit? Not really, but I wouldn't say I'm in no way cautious. They definitely don't scare me, though. I just respect that they're very powerful animals and I'm not experienced with handling them. Have you ever burnt your tongue like REALLY bad? If so, what on? Yes, on rice that was literally right off the fucking stove lmao. LOOK I didn't know it had JUST come off and I was hungry as fuck but boy did I have REGRETS considering the burn lasted for well over a week, maybe two. Do you think having a sleepover with a guy is theoretically acceptable? Um, yes...????? Do you like to have cake on your birthday? Which kind of cake in mind? Yeah, and red velvet or chocolate frosted, depending on what I'm feeling.

#survey #quiz #questions #bored #random

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cyberstarlope · 6 years

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Why Swap Force meant a lot to me

This is sappy but since I’ve just gotten back into Skylanders this year, I wanna talk bout it :V depression mention but just me being sappy other than that

So I was in 8th grade when Swap Force came out and since I never played Giants, it’d been a while and the improved graphics was crazy to me at the time. Pretty obvious, but Freeze Blade has always been my favorite and showed up a lot in my old sketchbook since I’d just started taking up drawing.

8th grade was like... the last “pure” year I had. I had beginning issues with a friend (who would later treat me horribly and end with me pushing her as far as way as possible) but I had friends, I was happy, and for the most part I wasn’t worried about myself or other people.

Skip some years ahead and I’ve just gotten out of high school which was godawful mentally. My studies went fine and I adored most my teachers but I was seriously stunted emotionally and socially and I’ve been coping with anxiety and depression since Sophomore year.

I missed out on all the Skylander games since (though I do own Trap Team and I’ve been catching up with collecting). When I came back to it, I immediately felt good! It was like greeting an old friend again and I guess since I connected it back to a time when I was much happier, that feel good sense stuck. I literally just have to listen to anything from the American Authors album “Oh, What A Life” and I’m suddenly a kid again playing Swap Force and role playing with my friend.

There’s no real point to this but uuuuh don’t let go of “kiddie” interests! If shit makes you happy, keep indulging.

If you actually read this, I love you btw

#cyber rambles #skylanders #skylanders swap force

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iampikachuhearmeroar · 6 years

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a list of gross/weird ass advances that i’ve had from people:

•that one boy in primary school who was a younger brother of someone in my year, in the year under us, that harassed me for like two years straight by following me around singing/rapping eminem’s “shake that” ft nate dogg to me. like y’all this shit was happening when i was like 9-11 years old. and this behaviour ruined that song for me for literal YEARS. obvs, you could fight this one with “well, he was just a kid and you were as well. so, it can’t really be helped or criticised bc he was just repeating the things you’d both heard on the tv/radio. he probs thought at the time that this was an okay song (which it obvs wasn’t) to sing to a girl that he liked; bc it was so popular back then (2005-2006)” which, of course, is to some extent true. but still???? a kid should know the meaning of “can you please STOP following me around singing that song, thanks?” that i asked him several times to do, but he kept doing it, until i told a teacher.

-that one time at 13/14 when i signed up to facebook for the first time ever, after two years of being used to myspace (good times),and got automatically signed up to the dating app zoosk bc FB had decided to sign me up as single and lonely and therefore, i needed a man. so, i spent my first 3 fucking months of facebook trying to find how to deactivate that fucking app and had men in their late teens to their early/mid 20s hitting on me through the whole thing. but at least most of the guys were understanding here and were rightfully freaked out as i was that fb had signed a fucking 13/14 year old up to a motherfucking dating service.

•”your name is so fucked! like it’s so hard to learn how to fucking spell and pronounce... like why the fuck would your parents call you that bc no one would call their kid that??? anyway, I’m just gonna call you *insert plain ass white girl name here* for the rest of conversation bc it’s soooo much easier for me! but like, why the actual fuck won’t you give me more than two word replies you super over conceited bitch!? when i’ve been nothing but nice to you?! btw you’re sexy anyway and that should fix this. ps. send me nudes on snapchat bc its 2am and im lonely.” (all the same guy.)

•”oh hey.... we should make a wager where we if we ever meet and go out to a bar.... and we should bet off each other virginity’s right? are you with me? anyway, so, we go to a bar and see who gets fucked first and so loses their virginity first. and whoever loses their virginity first has to fuck the other one so that we both lose out virginity on the same night! sounds like a great idea doesn’t it? hahahahaha 😂😅 ”constant harassment for nudes and nude videos to be this guy’s private cam girl, bc apparently “following you for 4 years on tumblr is a lot of trust and so you owe me nudes bitch” ”oh and by the way, how are all your vibrators? are they getting a good work out? 😉😏😏” (this is all the same guy who follows me on here.)

•that one dude who thought that me inviting a friend along with me to us meeting in Bondi (in Sydney) made my friend an awkward 3rd wheel bc apparently we were a couple bc he liked all my posts on this godawful problematic hellsite. he was 18 like me. but still.

•those two 28 year olds who harassed me with sexual messages when I was 17 again on this godawful hellsite. and one of those guys always asking for selfies bc I was “so hot” and “so pretty” like y’all I WAS A FUCKING CHILD AND THEY WERE FULL GROWN ADULT MEN PAYING BILLS AND SHIT. IT WAS LIKE: PLS TRY AND PULL WOMEN YOUR OWN AGE. and then the other dude using the teacher sex fantasy where they fuck in the girls changeroom after sport.... when he was literally old enough to be a PE teacher at my school.

•literally just everything my high school stalker said to me back in the day and when I ended up running into him in 2015 on the bus home from uni.

•that one guy who I s2g was in his 30s and not his 20s like he said; from like azerbaijan or some other random country, hitting on me when I was 18/19 bc I “looked like a nice girl”

•those two guys somewhere in their 20s (where one of the guys was trying to set me up with his friend) when I was 17/18 who kept asking me if I’d ever watched porn and masturbated... and why I still hadn’t fucked anyone yet when I should’ve fucked someone by the time I was 15, apparently.

•mr creeper mccreepcreep who was absolutely hellbent in trying to confiscate/steal my phone (and my bag at one point) from me and just generally trying to leave me without my phone last year at a bar with some friends (2017) when he found out by peering over my shoulder at my phone, that i’d texted someone to pick me up from the bar to escape from him. bc remember: “HOW FUCKING DARE YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO LEAVE ME AND TEXT PEOPLE TO LEAVE THE BAR WHEN I’VE JUST MET YOU! AND YOU’RE SEXY SLEEP WITH ME, YOU BITCH! AND BY THE WAY, YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO LOOK AT OR EVEN ASK FOR MY PHONE EXCEPT TO ADD ME ON FACEY! :P” (this is what i think his thought process was it’s not what he actually said out loud) the whole time i was with him though, he was completely and utterly grossing me the fuck out and scaring me to death with how desperate he was to leave me without an escape route from that bar other than either him or my friends (ie my phone) and feeling straight up my dress and trying to “convince you (me) to kiss me (him)” i’m pretty sure i was close to getting my drink spiked if i’d had one with me tbh. he just gave off that feeling.

•ok this wasn’t from a guy... but when I moved schools at 16/17 (2012), one of the girls that I met was hellbent again on trying to “get you (me) a boyfriend bc you (i) need one”, apparently. in this process, she kept trying to set me up with men in their late 20s/early 30s (and a tiny minority close to our age at the time, at 16-18 even early 20s) and practically bribed me (i.e. she gave me jewellery and CD’s to keep me quiet each time) for the use of my phone to do so. she always asked me if i was talking to those guys and when i said no she was always like “why though??? they’re so nice!” and i was like “THE BULK OF THEM ARE ADULT MEN MABEL! THEY SHOULDN’T BE FLIRTING WITH/TRYING TO DATE GIRLS WHO ARE 16/17!!! SOME OF THEM ARE ALMOST TWICE OUR AGE!!! HOW THE FUCK DO YOU NOT FUCKING UNDERSTAND THAT???!!!″ to which she’d answer with “so?????” she even asked a few times if she could take my mobile phone home WITH HER to add more creepy men.... which i obviously said a resounding “NO????!!!!” to. finally, at the end of all that shit, she hit on me. when I said no she asked “is that bc you went to catholic school?” and I was like “no it’s just bc I don’t swing that way right now.” (and plus your behaviour is really fucking weird and concerning).

but the moral of this post is to fucking stay safe, my ragtime gals and my dudes.

#life #about me #shut up ilona #ilona whines about her absolutely shitty luck with dudes #the girls name has been changed lol #but seriously though #why tbr fuck are people so fucking weied #*weird and gross

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ceruleanspruce · 4 years

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i just wanna ramble about writing and what it means to me hang on

i think i started telling stories once i could talk, really. it’s always felt kind of natural to me. i had a bad upbringing but i was fortunate to come from a family that valued literacy and was able to provide lots of books. i read really voraciously! mostly because i didn’t have any friends.

sometimes i feel kind of lost. i have complex post traumatic stress disorder and major depressive disorder with anxious distress (or, if you’re not my hospital chart: i have a lot of trauma), and sometimes i feel very alone.

i wrote a lot in high school. high school was also the time when i started really really wanting to not be alive anymore. i wrote a 250-someodd page (times new roman, single space, 12pt, normal margins) behemoth of a story about vampire intrigue that went absolutely nowhere and was godawful in one summer. all the characters were flat, the word choice was somehow both pretentious and wildly incorrect, there was no plot. but i wrote it and i told my singular friend about it and i gave it to my tenth grade english teacher, who very kindly forgot to give me feedback on it.

i got into fanfiction in... i wanna say eleventh grade. it was avatar: the last airbender, i think, or pokemon, and it wasn’t very good. but i was in the process of learning that my boyfriend at the time was not treating me in a good or normal way, and i think i needed to write about love that didn’t hurt.

(hey, you wonder why my ao3 title is “write about love, it can be in any tense, but it must make sense”! hehe.)

i was diagnosed with ptsd in 2019, and everything kind of started making sense. it’s kind of a daunting diagnosis, you know? ptsd is one of those Big Bad Mental Illnesses, i think, that only people who have been through hell and back again three times have. not folks who lived in the suburbs, going about outwardly quiet lives.

sometimes i think i’m just writing the same story over and over again until it makes sense. i think maybe the story i’m trying to write is mine. i’ve never written it all out! i did a trauma timeline with my old therapist, but there’s only so many details you can squeeze into a therapy session. i lived with my abuser until i was 23.

i think maybe i want to write because i want someone else to feel seen. i spent a lot of time thinking i was the only person like me. i hallucinated daily for most of elementary school and didn’t say or do anything about it because i thought it was normal. doesn’t everyone’s mom treat them that way? don’t you eat sleep for dinner?

but then i got diagnosed, and i started reaching out, and i started going back over the media and characters that stuck with me. and it kind of clicked, you know, the story i’d been writing over and over again. someone gets hurt, and they hold that with them forever, but time passes. people love us. we can heal. sometimes i write different cross-sections of that story, sometimes i write something different.

and it helps, man, it’s so therapeutic. i write for myself, too, but i also hope that maybe one person reads something i’ve written, like i did when i was young and scared and sad, and sees a little of their own experience in that, and finds it comforting.

sometimes all you need to know is that you’re not alone, you know?

#lu writes #i dunno man

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assholemurphy · 7 years

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Hide and Seek : Chapter 1

Also on AO3

IT (2017)

Bill/Richie

Summary: Richie is a single father doing whatever it takes to raise his daughter, but as a high school drop out and foster care runaway, there's not much he can get in way of legal jobs, so he turns to criminal activities to provide for his little girl, by way of working for a man called Pennywise, who doesn't take kindly to finding out that Richie has been compiling enough evidence on his organization to take them all down. So, he comes after him, putting Richie and his daughter Alexia in danger.

Bill is a kindergarten teacher who just wants to make it through the school year without having to deal with Richie's bullshit, but that doesn't work out quite as planned, as the loudly dressed maniac manages to drag him down into the criminal underbelly of the city, leaving him with no choice but to flee with Richie and his daughter. All he wants is a break, but the hits keep coming, and fuck, how the hell does Richie expect him not to fall for him when the way he acts around his kid literally makes Bill's heart melt? But Richie is a complete mess. An attractive mess.

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3921

Warnings: Violence

Character Info:

Richie’s father died when he was seven, leaving his mother to care for him, which didn’t work out well as she blamed Richie for his death, because Richie was the one who demanded chocolate ice cream that night, and his father died getting in a wreck at the stop light because he was out at the wrong place at the wrong time. It was an accident, but she blamed him, and spent the next few years torturing him because of it. Finally, someone notices when he’s ten years old and he gets ‘rescued’ and thrown into the system, where he spends his time bouncing around to different homes until he runs away at fifteen. Richie was 17 when Alexia was born. He is now 24.

Bill’s father left them after Georgie was born, leaving his mother to raise two children alone, and with no job or skills beyond high school, and the bad reputation that a divorce from a man as powerful as him gave her, she could find little work, and did as best she could, resorting to a lot of under the table dealing and men that Bill wasn’t supposed to find out about. Georgie is alive, and Bill’s been protecting him his whole life, until Georgie went to college, that’s when Bill took off to the farthest place he could think to go to get rid of the reputation of being ‘one of those Denbrough woman’s kids, poor thing.’ Bill is now 25.

Chapter 1:

Bill would love to say that it was unusual for a child to be sitting in his classroom after 4pm, he’d really love to, and he supposed it was true for most children, but this one seemed to be a special case. At least once a week her father was late to pick her up, so he’d come to expect it on occasion. Mr. Tozier didn’t seem to have much of an internal clock, either that, or he just assumed Bill didn’t have anything better to do than look after his five-year-old for the afternoon while he was out doing god knew what.

No, really, he was pretty sure the only one who knew what Richie fucking Tozier did for a living was him and him alone, even Alexia didn’t seem to know anything about what her dad did. Not that Bill had asked her, he wasn’t about to start interrogating children just because their parents we a little bit – okay, quite a bit – shady. None of the other staff at the school knew anything about him, well anything beyond that fact that he was obviously colorblind and paid the school’s tuition in cash, which was odd in and of itself, but the school wasn’t about to turn down anyone’s money, not with how badly the public schools were doing in this day and age.

So, nobody knew anything about him, which had only made Bill more curious about him. So, he loved a good mystery, sue him, and it didn’t hurt that Richie was an attractive mystery, if one could get past the godawful combination of clothing he wore on a daily basis. Surely, whatever he was doing couldn’t be too bad, no employer in their right mind would let someone dress like that if they were supposed to be looking inconspicuous. So, Bill had let it go for the most part.

But still, Richie was late a lot, and on occasion he didn’t look to be in the best of shape when he finally got around to coming to pick up his kid. He would sometimes show up with his face bruised up or his clothing torn, looking like someone had tried to kill him, which, at first, Bill had believed they had, but after a few times, it looked like whoever was trying to take his life wasn’t very good at it, so he’d also let that go. Again, for the most part.

He sighed and looked up from his book and over at Alexia who was playing with the blocks in the corner of his classroom, at peace and completely unaware of exactly how late her father really was. Not that it mattered, honestly, Bill didn’t have much of a life outside of his work, preferring to stay at home and spend his time writing than to go out with the rest of the teachers and make friends. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them, most of them were kind enough, but they came from different backgrounds than he did, and he just couldn’t get past how for granted they took everything.

That was part of why he had so much sympathy for Alexia, and Richie, too, he supposed. He knew what it was like to have to work for what you wanted, to keep your family safe and secure, which is why he hadn’t reported the tardiness to anyone else, knowing that that kind of neglect could get them not only kicked out from the school, but it might very well warrant a visit from Child Protective Services, and if he was honest, he didn’t want to do that to the man.

If the circumstances were different, then he would have wasted no time in doing so, but Alexia was never hurt, always clean and happy, and seemed to be unaware of how sketchy her father seemed under the scrutiny of Bill Denbrough’s eye.

He looked up as the door to his classroom opened. He put his book down with a small, resigned sigh, and said, “Mr. Tozier. Nice of you to join us.”

“Sorry, I’m late. I know. I just got caught up at the, uh, the office, and lost track of time,” Richie gave him a sheepish smile as he made his way over to Alexia, who had finally stopped playing with the toys long enough to realize it was her father at the door.

“Daddy! Daddy, we’re learning to read! Mr. Denbrough showed us how to sound out words. Look,” she pointed towards the row of days of the week stuck along the wall closest to her, “That one is Friday, that’s today!”

“Yeah, it is. Great job!” He told her as he reached down to pick her up. “Come here, bug.”

Alexia giggled as he swung her into the air and pulled her against his chest. Bill watched them, a soft smile on his lips before he noticed the bruising along the side of Richie’s neck. His smile turned into a frown of concern.

He cleared his throat, “Rough day at the uh, office?” He asked, raising his eyebrows with a pointed look to at the collection of bruises.

Richie looked back at him, and for a second his face was almost panicked before he shrugged and laughed, a little nervously, “Yeah, they’ll kill you if you don’t make your quota by the end of the week. I was a couple shy.”

It was said like a joke, but Bill believed it more than he had anything else Richie had ever told him. “Well, take care to manage your sales better next week, then. Wouldn’t want Alexia to miss you if they succeed next time.”

“Yeah,” Richie nodded, giving him a weird look. “Look, I’m sorry I was late-”

“It’s fine. I don’t mind watching her. She’s a good kid. Besides, it’s something I’ve come to expect from you.” Bill didn’t mean it to be as rude as it sounded, but he didn’t take the words back. It was expected, and he had no problem telling Richie so.

“I’ll be on time, next time. I promise,” Richie told him. The smile was back on his face, but Bill could tell it was forced. He knew very little about Richie from their interactions, most of them polite, so he had no choice but to take him at his word.

“You do that,” Bill said as he gathered his things into his messenger bag. He watched as they left, wondering how Richie could stand to dress as he did. If he wanted to be respected by the other parents, he should at least dress like them. Combat boots and black and white checkered pants we not the way to do that.

Richie’s panicked face stuck with him all through the next week, however, and the next time Richie was late – Wednesday, this time – he decided he was going to ask a couple of the questions he’d been dying to know the answers to. And if he didn’t like the answers he received, well, he had the number to CPS scribbled in the front cover of his book, just so he wouldn’t forget it.

Because really, someone with a job like that couldn’t be that great of a parent, not if they were willing to put their kid in danger, which she was, because if they could get to Richie, they could get to her, and it was only a matter of time before they did just that. Richie wasn’t a good parent.

But, he didn’t truly believe that. From what he’d seen, Richie cared about his kid, even if he was a little flaky about picking her up from school. She was never hurt in any way, aside from the scraped-up knees and palms that came with childhood. She was always happy, too, one of the most well-adjusted kids in his class. She never threw fits or hurt other students, was always willing to share, and never complained when it was too rainy to go outside for recess. It was like she’d been raised by a saint, which Bill knew from looks alone, Richie wasn’t. Nothing about her screamed anything less than perfect parenting, which bothered Bill. He’d come to expect a lot of things from the children of the rich, and good manners and understanding were not very common. Either Richie had a very good nanny, or he was a damn good parent, and Bill wanted desperately to believe the latter. Because the worst thing about Alexia was her sense of style – which today was a bright yellow dinosaur t-shirt, a lacy pink tutu, and mini combat boots that matched her father’s – and Bill supposed there were worse things to teach your child than poor style choices.

So, when Richie showed up that afternoon, looking like he’d went back in time and robbed a nineties thrift store, Bill cornered him before he could get to Alex. From this close, Bill could see the chipped pink nail polish that he wore that matched Alex’s perfectly. Well, fuck, that was adorable. Honestly, the way Richie acted around Alexia made Bill’s heart melt.

“I have a question for you, Mr. Tozier,” Bill started off, trying not to invade Richie’s personal space too much. It wasn’t like he couldn’t just back up and move, but he seemed hellbent on staying as close to Bill as he could, that dumbass smile on his face that promised whatever he had to say was going to be complete horseshit. Still, Bill was going to ask.

“Ask away, Mr. Denbrough, I’m an open book,” Richie told him, dramatically wiggling his hands. It was an act, it was always an act. He had that happy voice going on, completely different from the one he used with Alexia, so Bill knew it was an act. He’d noticed a few things about Richie over the past year, one of which was that he used voices to cover up how he really felt. He didn’t panic easily, because he’d just transition into someone else, someone with the answers you wanted to hear, and you’d just let him, because you never actually wanted to hear the truth, anyway.

“What do you do for a living?” There, he’d asked. Now all he had to do was try not to let Richie bullshit him. Easier said than done.

“What?” The voice faltered for a second, replaced with a squeak of fear that was gone before Bill even got a chance to fully notice it. “I mean, why do you ask? It’s not like I do anything interesting.”

“I only ask because I’m worried about Alexia. You show up late at least once a week, look half dead most times, and honestly, it doesn’t seem like a healthy lifestyle choice, especially not for a parent. So, if you need help getting out of something-”

“Excuse me?” That wasn’t a fake voice at all. It was angry and real, and Bill knew he’d overstepped. Fuck, he should have just lied and said he was asking for career day, not that that would have been believable in the least. “What makes you think my life is any of your business?”

“I’m only worried about Alexia-” Bill tried to calm the situation. He hadn’t meant to piss Richie off, and now he was a little worried for his safety. If Richie was a criminal, he would have no problem harming someone who threatened him.

“Well, don’t. She’s not your kid. So, fuck off, because you’ve got no business getting involved,” Richie spat, backing away from Bill. He turned towards Alex, holding out his hand. “Come on, bug, let’s go home. I’ll make you a snack.”

“Graham crackers?” She asked, taking a hold of her father’s hand.

“Sure, Alex, whatever you want,” Richie said, making his way to the door. He pointedly ignored Bill’s gaze as he left, panic rising in his chest.

He didn’t calm down until he’d gotten in his car. He had no idea what to do know. Obviously, that motherfucking Denbrough suspected something. He had to switch schools. But he couldn’t. This was the best school he could find that was close enough to his house and the farthest from his job, so they’d never find out where his little girl was, should something go wrong. And it could go wrong. It could always go wrong.

He had a plan for if it did, but that only worked if it went wrong because of an inside reason, not because some fucking school teacher stuck his nose in someone else’s business. God, rich people were so fucking nosy. Why couldn’t he just leave Richie alone? It wasn’t like his job was interfering with his parenting. Sure, he showed up late sometimes, but that was it!

He was a great father, better than any of the families he’d been with, including his own. As much as he loved his father, he had had a few places where his parenting had lacked. Richie was trying to do better for his kid. Trying to love her and raise her right. That meant less gender roles, rules, and punishments, and more talks about emotions, futures, and encouragement. And, of course, the best school he could afford, and thanks to his job, he could afford a good one.

That was the only reason why he did what he did. To provide for his little girl. All he wanted was to keep her happy and healthy, with the bills paid and plenty left over to give her anything she needed, and he knew he couldn’t get that legally. He was a high school dropout in a world where three college degrees left you working minimum wage at some fast food restaurant. He couldn’t compete in this world’s job market. So, he did what he had to, and if that meant working for Pennywise and the Bower’s Gang, then so be it. As long as he could take care of Alexia, that was all that mattered to him.

But now his life was being threatened by a nosy schoolteacher. He had to get him off his back. That meant he had to be on time, every day, from now on. No more bruises showing, no more reasons for questions to be asked. He bought cover up for the bruises and kept it in his car to apply when needed. He kept a change of clothes in the back at all times in case his got ripped. And for the next two months, he was on time every day to pick up Alexia. He didn’t fuck up once.

Not until all hell broke loose, at least.

Things had been slowly going to hell at his job for the past two weeks, but then they found out about him keeping documents on them. They found out how much he really had, how much he knew, and they were ready to take him down. He’d ended up having to scramble to get out of town, packing their bags and making a few stops to get everything in order. He hadn’t been warned until two that afternoon, that they would be coming for him that night, probably around midnight, once he was asleep. He had to leave, had to get out, but he’d ended up being caught in the middle of leaving and had to run from them. He didn’t get away until he’d driven them off the road. Their car had flipped twice, and he was sure they were dead. He didn’t even know their names, they were new, just following orders, and now he’d killed them. Killing someone always made him want to puke.

But now it was five thirty and he needed to get his kid and get out of town. Well, he supposed Denbrough wasn’t going to forgive this time so easily. He laughed as he pulled up outside the school. He had to get in and get out quickly, before anyone could find him. No time to deal with Bill’s bullshit.

“Are you okay?”

Richie ignored Bill, instead going directly to Alexia and picking her up in a hug before she could even speak. He held her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and allowed himself a second to relax. She was safe, he was going to get her out of there, they’d be okay. Everything would be okay, he had to believe that.

“Richie! Richie, you’re bleeding all over my carpet, would you like to tell me what the absolute fuck is going on, or should I just call the cops now?” Bill demanded, walking up to the two of them. He had no idea what was going on, but it was nearly six and Richie looked like he’d narrowly escaped death and now there was blood on his floor from the gash in Richie’s side. How the hell was he supposed to deal with this?

“Watch your language,” Richie hissed, setting Alexia down with a wince. “And I’m fine, I’ve just got to go now. Thank you for watching her. I promise, we won’t be any more trouble to you after today.”

“What do you mean by that? What’s going on, Richard? You want to explain? Because if you don’t, I swear to god, I’m calling the cops and then CPS and-”

“I fucked over some bad people, okay, William? That’s what happened. Now stop asking questions, because I’ve got to go,” Richie said, grabbing Alexia’s hand and heading for the door.

Bill stopped him. “The only place you’re going is a hospital. I don’t care what happened, you can explain it all to the police-”

“No! No hospital, no cops! I’ve got to get my daughter somewhere safe. Now get out of my way or I swear I’ll kick your ass,” Richie growled, stepping into Bill’s personal space.

Bill swallowed hard, a little bit afraid for himself, but more for Richie and Alexia, “At least let me tape up your side so you don’t bleed out before you leave the city.”

“What?” Richie had expected a lot from Bill, but not an offer of help. That being said, he did need it. “Fine, but make it fast. I don’t have much time.”

“It’ll take two minutes and then you can go,” Bill promised, heading for the first aid kit he kept under the sink. It wasn’t enough to completely fix Richie, but it was something. He grabbed it and motioned for Richie to take a seat on one of the tables. “Here, take off your shirt.”

“Now, see, I knew it. All those questions. You just wanted and excuse to talk me out of my clothes. Could have just asked, with a pretty face like yours. I wouldn’t have said no,” Richie snorted, pulling the shirt over his head.

Alexia let out a squeak at the sight.

“Hey, bug, go play with the blocks, okay? Mr. Denbrough is gonna play doctor for a minute, but Daddy’s gonna be alright, I promise. It just looks scary right now, but it’s okay.” It wasn’t technically a lie, he would be okay, just maybe not any time soon.

Alexia nodded, trusting her father, and let them to their work. If her dad said everything was fine, then it was. He’d never lied to her before.

“Well, it doesn’t look like you need stitches, so that’s good. I can just tape it up and you’ll be good to go. Do you want to tell me what happened or not?” Bill asked, pulling out supplies. The kit didn’t have everything he needed, it was made for playground scrapes, not criminal violence, but he would make do. He’d done more with less before, after all.

“I’d rather not answer any more questions right now. The less you know, the better, anyway.” That way Bill couldn’t get himself in trouble over this. Wouldn’t that make a nice headline. No, it was better not to spill his guts, Bill hadn’t done anything to him, he wasn’t going to drag him into this if he didn’t have to.

Bill nodded as he looked Richie over, noting the rest of his wounds, nothing too serious, but he’d look like hell tomorrow. His eyes landed on the chipped blue nail polish that he wore. Bill would have thought it was cute if he wasn’t so concerned about Richie bleeding out in the parking lot. There was a lot about Richie he wished he’d gotten to know, but it didn’t seem like he was going to get the chance. He sighed as he finished taping up the gash, letting his fingers rest on Richie’s skin a moment longer than necessary before pulling away and telling him, “You’re all done, now do you want me to see about that cut on your lip, or would you-”

“Well, well, well, looks like somebody got detention.”

Richie’s head snapped up at the sound of the voice, panic flooding his veins. “Shit.”

“We were just looking for you, but it looks like you’ve got a whole lot you haven’t told us about, haven’t you?” The thug grinned, looking pointedly at Alexia. “Never would have though you for a father.”

“You leave her alone,” Richie demanded, pushing past Bill to stand up, putting himself between the two men and his daughter. He wasn’t going to let them hurt her. This was his mistake, he wasn’t going to let them drag her into it. “Bill, I need you to take Alexia and run. Come here.”

Bill stood, shaken and afraid, unsure of what to do, but more worried about Alexia than himself. He’d lived his life, but she was just a kid, she was one of his students, it was his job to protect her. In that moment, he wasn’t sure who he hated more, the thugs at the door or Richie for getting them all tangled up in his fucked up mess. He came up to Richie, keeping an eye on the men who were closing in on them.

“Take my bag, there’s a flashdrive inside of it that you’ll need. Take her to Chuck E Cheese, the one on Luther. Don’t call the cops unless I’m not there by seven. If I’m not, call them and give them the flashdrive. I’ll come for you as soon as I get rid of these fuckers, okay? Keep her safe, Bill. Promise me you’ll keep her safe,” Richie instructed him, keeping his voice low so he couldn’t be overheard. He hated dragging him into this, but it was too late now. All he wanted was to keep his daughter safe, and if that meant using Denbrough to do so, then he would.

Bill nodded, not trusting himself to speak. If he said anything, it would probably be to tell Richie to go fuck himself. But that wasn’t helpful. He grabbed Alexia’s hand and made a run for the door to the playground as Richie charged the two men. There was no way he was getting out of this alive, Bill was sure of it. He was scrawny and already hurt, they were huge and looked like they could break him with their bare hands.

Bill hesitated at the door to his car, he could call the cops now and fix this whole mess. He didn’t want to be involved, this wasn’t his problem. But the way Alexia clung to his hand, he knew he couldn’t just abandon them. Richie said until seven, he’d give him until then.

Not that Bill had much hope he’d make it out alive.

Next Chapter -->

#it 2017 #bichie #richie tozier #bill denbrough #stephen king's it #i've been dying to write this for over a year #i'm p pleased with this chap #it fic #bichie fic #losers club fic #my fics #hide and seek au

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bessonbitch · 7 years

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To my followers,

I take dual-credit classes at my high school, which are college classes that earn both a college credit and a high credit. This semester, one of the classes I’m taking is Psychology 110. We’ve just started our positive psychology unit, and one thing that we have to do is write a letter to someone we believe we haven’t properly thanked and then we have to read the letter to them. The one I submitted for a grade was for my best friend, but I wanted to do one for you guys too. I tried to record this for you guys, but the video ended up being thirteen minutes long and was too large of a file to be uploaded to Tumblr. So, instead, I settled for just putting the written letter up for you guys to read. (For the record, this is a lot of background about me and who I am before I actually get to the appreciation part #sorrynotsorry)

If you don’t know me, hi. I’m Kayla, I’m seventeen, turning eighteen in November. I’m from a small town in eastern Kentucky that is the definition of conservative America. I’ve wanted to be a writer since I was five years old when my kindergarten teacher told me that some stupid story I wrote was good and that she was going to put it my writing portfolio that the school made us do. I started writing then, and I haven’t stopped since…

Well, that’s a lie. In sixth grade, I had this tyrant of an English teacher. She was obsessive, wanted us to write a very specific way and that didn’t sit well with me. I struggled in the class, and had panic attacks almost weekly for the entire year because I felt like what I wrote wasn’t good enough, that it didn’t meet her unrealistic standards. By the time I got to the seventh grade, I was completely turned off by writing.

So, for about a year, I didn’t write. I used to write fanfics all the time—mostly for Justin Bieber or the dance group ICONic Boyz (if you’ve been around long enough to know who these guys are, wow, hi, it’s nice to meet someone else who’s been as obsessive as I am for as long as I have), and the occasional Percy Jackson fic. That stopped, too, after the sixth grade. I didn’t get the same enjoyment out of it anymore, but I still read fanfictions online. In the sixth grade, I also found the band One Direction. I remember being the first person who liked them in middle school, because they weren’t quite marketing to America yet. Throughout sixth and seventh grade, I read fanfictions for 1D all the time. I never had any homework, so I spent every free moment just reading these godawful fanfictions written by people who used every trope imaginable in one story because that’s just what we did in 2012. In case you don’t know what that means, I believe 2012 was about when people started referring to “eyes” as “orbs”...Yeah, I’ve been around that long. (I started the fanfic phase waaaay back in fourth grade, in case you were wondering.)

I don’t remember what compelled me to write again. I think it was because I ran out of fanfictions to read. I’m not sure. But I remember one day, motivation hit me like a truck. So, I picked up the pen—well, the laptop, if we’re being technical—and wrote the stories that only I knew how to write. Sixth grade English did help me with one thing, and that was how to actually structure a story and its plot and not just go on forever about some crap that, at the end of the day, doesn’t matter in the story. You know, kind of like this letter than I have no idea where I’m going with.

I started writing again and I haven’t stopped since. I found people who loved and appreciated my work. I posted content on a website called Quotev (it used to be called Quizzazz and you can bet your ass I was pissed when they changed the name), and every once in a while, I’ll log on to see what’s going on over there. To this day, I still get comments from people saying they love my work even though I haven’t updated on there in years. And, really, that’s what motivates me to write.

Don’t get me wrong, I love writing. I love putting ideas to paper and expressing myself the only way I know how. It’s one of the few things that I can turn to, when I feel an array of emotions that I don’t quite know how to confront. But to know that someone other than me enjoys what I do…It’s a reward all on its own. I appreciate every comment, every person who says that they love the fanfiction I published. And I’m not just saying that—I really do mean it.

When I got to my junior year, they wanted us to know what we wanted to do with our lives. I wanted to write. I didn’t care what it was—if it was fiction, nonfiction, technical writing. I didn’t care. Writing is oxygen for me. I can’t live without it. I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t write anymore.

That same year, I had taken a bit of a break from writing fanfictions. I’d focused more on original stories, creating a world that no one else had ever thought of. I never finished anything—I never really do. My mind kept bouncing from topic to topic and refused to stay in one place for too long. I landed on an idea that I haven’t been shaken off of yet. It’s a story about magic, and it’s still in the planning stages so I don’t want to talk about it too much, but I think this is the story that I’ll finish.

Around that same time, my friend forced Why Don’t We on me. She made me listen to their music every time we were together, and we were together a lot. She sent me pics of them, videos, and everything else imaginable. That started back in either April or May, and I eventually joined the fandom in August. That’s when I started this blog and I think know I’ve said this a lot, but I wasn’t planning on keeping this blog. I expected myself to delete bessonbitch within a week of creating it.

Then, for the first time in a long time, I started writing fanfiction. I saw very few Corbyn fics on here, so I made a songfic of When She Loved Me. It’s a song from Toy Story 2, and I actually cry when I listen to it. It’s actually pretty pathetic to see someone who’s almost an adult cry like a baby while listening to this song, but I digress. Anyways, when I was writing the fic, I had tears streaming down my face and I didn’t know have the first clue where I was going with the story. I was in what my psychology professor calls “flow”, which is kind of where I’m so focused on a task that the world melts around me and I do my best work. I don’t notice how much time has passed. I wasn’t quite aware of what I’m doing. It’s something everyone can get to, but it’s really hard to figure out what puts you so the in the moment that nothing else matters. I hadn’t been in the flow in a very long time, and I didn’t realize what I was doing until I’d already hit the publish button. I was so in the moment that I don’t even remember tagging the fic, or even figuring out what the word count was.

All of a sudden, I had fifty followers. Then a hundred. Then two, three, four hundred. I’m almost to five hundred (499 as of 4:57pm!!!), and I have no idea why you guys like what I do so much. And I’m not just saying that—I really don’t understand why you like me. I’m not the best at what I do—half the time, I’m not even posting my best work on here. I know I can do better, but you guys still like it. You still like and reblog and add little comments that actually make my day better.

I don’t talk to most of you guys. I don’t talk to any of you, really. There’s only two people that I actually talk to on here. But I notice all of you. I see you when I’m at school and I just get a spam of likes. I see you when check my phone in the middle of the night and you’ve reblogged a fic that I’m convinced turned out to be shit. I see you and I want to talk to all of you, to be friends with all of you, but I don’t know how. There’s only two people I talk to frequently, and one of them I’ve known for four years and the other one initiated the friendship. But even though I don’t talk to most of you, I love you all the same.

I said earlier that I don’t always post my best work on here. That wasn’t just me being insecure or something. I know I can do better, but I’m not always motivated to it. I know that I can make the beginning better. I know I can make the ending better. I know I can make the actual plot better. But, for whatever reason, I can’t convince myself to do my absolute best work. There’s a lot of times where I feel like the imagines I’m posting are absolute crap. But you guys always like them, and I don’t know why.

When I first got back into writing, I didn’t feel confident in what I was doing. I had spent so long out of practice that I didn’t have the first clue where to begin with writing. It took years for me to finally feel comfortable in my writing. There are still times that I don’t feel comfortable at all. When I publish an imagine, I freak out. I care a little too much about what you guys think of my work. I know I probably shouldn’t, but after you’re made to feel like crap for something you love to do, it’s hard to get to a place where you don’t worry what people think. That’s why I have to schedule my imagines to be posted. I can’t just hit the publish button after I finish writing. It freaks me out waaay too much to do that. So, if you send me a request, and it seems like it takes me forever to publish it, that’s why. I will do every request, but they won’t be up as soon as you probably want. (If you’re interested in what my schedule is, I will post an imagine every three days.)

Thank you for everything you guys have done. Thank you for following me, thank you for liking and reblogging and adding little comments to every imagine I publish. I appreciate everything you guys do. Thank you for dealing with me. Thank you for being amazing.

I love all of you. I love all of you so so so so so much. I don’t think you guys understand how much y’all mean to me. I love you. Honestly, I don’t know what else to say except I love you. Thank you for everything you’ve ever done. I know I don’t talk to everyone, and I hate that I don’t talk to more of you. But please please know that I appreciate every interaction you’ve ever made with my blog.

Thank you thank you thank you.

Love,

Kayla Porter

This was something I added in the video I was going to upload with this, but because I couldn’t do that, here are my social links in case anyone wants to follow and/or talk to me:

Instagram: @/writingactually

Twitter: @/writingactually

Snapchat: @/thewallflower7

Wattpad: @/zukosprincess

:)))

#this was kind of long #and kind of rambly #but if you made it to the end #thank you #thank you thank you thank you #i love all of you #every #last #one #of #you #you guys are the best and i just wanted y'all to know that #this is also unedited in case you couldn't tell #sorrynotsorry #bessonbitch

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kakihoden · 7 years

Text

(/ω＼)ﾟ.+(〃ﾉωﾉ)ﾟ.+°50 More Interesting Questions

Rules: fill this out and tag at least one person you’d like to know more about! Or just fill it out! Or don’t! Answer only some of them! Make up your own questions! “What kind of requirement is that”, you ask? A reasonable one! Who am I to tell you what to do? Anything goes!

tagged by @theempresskaizer and @incorrectmidc THANK YOUUU <3

1. What kind of food can’t you stand?: FISH, especially Fried Tilapia. I dunno. I loved fish as a kid, but now just the smell of it makes my stomach churn. Oh, and broccoli. GDI the first time I tasted it was traumatic :’D

2. If you could choose one minor inconvenience to never have to deal with again, what would you pick?: losing my pencils -- for a person who draws often losing these babies is kinda ironic, isn’t it?

3. Have you got any useless talents?: Uhm.... I can sleep anywhere. LOL

4. If you could be really really good at one thing, what would it be?: drawing.it’s literally the oldest hobby i have so :/

5. Name a few people you think are extremely good-looking: real people?! okay, dumb question. i kinda view people’s faces as equal, but there are particular people who stand out. i love looking at Eva Green and Angelina Danilova. my girl crushes :v

6. What was your favorite way to pass the time as a kid?: doodle doodle on the wall; wait for my mama’s angry call :’D

7. What is something you’re proud of?: uhm... I dunno. I don’t dwell much on myself on a positive light, so I haven’t really thought of the things I should be proud of. Unless it means something else? IDK lels

8. What’s one character flaw in people that you just can’t tolerate?: being self-righteous, or being too self-important. I tend to act cold towards people like these cuz duuuuuhhhh. I’d rather treat you like fart than say mean things cuz people like these aren’t really worth getting work up over.

9. Do you consider yourself to be more of a leader or a follower?: Back when I was a youthful optimistic fellow, I have, indeed proven myself able to be a leader, but now I just wanna be a follower. Energy-saving mode on unnecessary things :D

10. What kind of student are/were you?: When I was in high school, I was the overrated student. And it sucked because teachers placed high expectations against my will when in fact I am the lazy student who relies on stock knowledge to get through school life :v

11. Butterfly effect question! Has there ever been a seemingly minor decision you’ve made (at the time) that ended up having a profound influence on your life?:Yes.*blushes*

12. Name your most irrational fear/aversion: I used to run away at the speed of light at the sight of anything worm-like. >___<. I once accidentally touched a worm and it felt cold and slimy it was disgusting I literally threw a fit (LOL), but now I can tolerate them. Just... stay away within a one-meter radius D:

13. Are there any fictional characters you find especially relatable?: a looottt.

14. If you drink, what kind of drunk are you? Alternatively, what sort of person are you at parties?: I don’t drink alcoholic beverages to the point where I get wasted. But let me tell you a story: when I was a kid, Mom gave me a quarter kilo of grapes. I finished it in one sitting, but I got drunk so I hit my head on the door knob when I tried to stand up. I wonder what kind of drunk I am now? AT PARTIES? NOOO... I just stay at corners and try to avoid having to party. It’s not the party that’s bad, it’s the socializing. :’D

15. Do you fall in love easily? Or does it usually take a long time for you to trust someone?: I fall in love with 2d men easily. And yes, it takes quite some time for me to trust someone nowadays, cuz I learned my lesson the hard way.

16. Would you rather have one close friend or 100 casual friends?: just one close friend is enough. I get tired of people quite easily.

17. Do you consider yourself to be more of a slob or a neat-freak?: *glances around my work area* Yep. I’m a slob alright. But that’s only when I’m too busy on something. Otherwise, you’ll often see me arranging my stuff here and there.

18. Describe a place (imaginary or real) that you would find incredibly cozy: a view of the sunset in a large window from a high place. and where a contrast of temperature is at its best <3

19. Do you have kids? If not, do you want them someday?: I’m not that fond of kids because the kids in my neighborhood are brutal. They call me pancit canton (instant noodle) because of my hair :’’’’’’’’’D (I’m a 23-year-old bullied by 5-year-old kids)

20. What was your favorite book as a child?: I didn’t like reading, believe me. I learned to read quickly because I wanted to get away from books as fast as possible. LOL

21. Name one thing you just don’t get what all the hype is about: uhm... mobile legends and despacito :x srsly what are those

22. Name one thing that you think is tragically underrated: what is. IDK... ಠ_ರೃ

23. If you had to be glued to a person for a month, real or fictional (who you have never met), who would you choose?: I’d be with Hitsugaya Toushiro! (then will secretly glue us together again before one month ends LOLOLOLOL) Taichou! <3

24. What’s something you’d like the chance to do someday?: I want to travel a lot to old places. Ah... it’s a life-long dream :3

25. Do you typically speak your mind when you have a controversial opinion? Or do generally prefer to not rock the boat?: I’m a peace-loving person, and I’m weak at arguments so I keep my mouth shut and let my brain become noisy until my thoughts settle down instead of speaking up.

26. What’s the dumbest fad you’ve been caught up in?: I live in a cave -- what even is the latest fad today

27. What’s something you thought was cool as a kid/adolescent, but now cringe at yourself for?: I was low-key emo back then but it only manifested in my music preference because I was keeping up a good school image. Now when I look back at that “shiny and brilliant student” facade I wanted to smack my younger self in the head (btw, my music preference never changed).

28. What’s a trait you consider to be very admirable?: Bravery. It can take you far if you have it. I admire brave people.

29. Is there a particular kind of item people always tend to give you as gifts? (For instance, people always get you things with ducks on them because you like ducks, etc.): I don’t receive gifts anymore (too bad, will you give me a gift? XD) but my godmother often gave me dresses and clothes, and blue items cuz she knew blue was my favorite :3

30. Do you speak multiple languages? Which ones?: I speak Filipino, English and not that fluent at Japanese (and currently taking a crash course at Bahasa Indonesia)

31. Would you rather live in the big city or the countryside?: I’d choose countryside in a heartbeat!

32. Has there ever been something you were certain you’d hate, but ended up loving?: none in particular.

33. Do you mind being the center of attention, or do you prefer the spotlight to be on someone else?: I do not like too much attention. I do appreciate it when someone notices me but if I get too much of that, it wears me out.

34. Favorite holiday?: Christmas!

35. Are you a more go-with-the-flow type of person, or do you need to have things planned meticulously?: there are days when I just go with the flow, but when the situation calls for it, I spend a night planning my days, especially trips. Yup.

36. Is there something you loved so much you wish you could forget it and experience it all over again? (A tv show, book, series–anything.): Final Fantasy Advent Children. I’d love to experience that doki-doki when I see Cloud in action <3 and my nightly walks back at the province. The moon-lit road home, the fireflies, the silence, the nature -- I’d love to go back there and spend a good vacation. Plus the residents are really friendly

37. What hobbies do you have?: Drawing, procrastinating, sleeping, procrastinating, reading manga, and did I mention procrastinating?

38. If you could have a superpower, but it was only mildly useful, what ability would you want to have?: what even -- then it’s not called superpower anymore, but rather just “power” LOLOLOL. I wish I could shut down my nose when someone farts XD

39. Something people are always surprised to learn about you: that I’m not actually intimidating and that I am indeed Filipina.

40. Something that took you way too long to figure out: how to answer this. also, still trying to figure out how I’ll dissect my building. -_-

41. Worst injury you’ve had?: I fell down the stairs when I was a kid and it damaged my knees. Now both knees hurt during the cold season.

42. Any morbid fascinations?: I like drawing gore?

43. Describe your sense of humor: dark! as a result of my depression, my jokes tend to be categorized as black comedy LOL. Also perv. :v

44. If you had to be born in another era/place, which would you choose? I wish I was born in Japan, or renaissance England (^◇^；)

45. Something you are irredeemably bad at: time management (/ω＼)

46. Something that sucked but you’re glad you went through: College. Why the hell did I have to pick Architecture major of all things? But I learned a few things so okay.

47. Would you rather have a really godawful ugly tattoo in a place that is only slightly inconvenient to conceal with clothing (upper arm, thigh, etc.), or the coolest, most beautiful tattoo ever in the middle of your face? (Neither tattoo can be removed or concealed with makeup, and the ugly tattoo will deeply offend anyone who sees it.): ugly tattoo. I don’t like having stuff on my face

48. Are you more of an optimist or a pessimist?: I’m a pessimist irl. I’m actually a depressing human being hiding behind my drawings online ﾟ.+(〃ﾉωﾉ)ﾟ.+°

49. What would be the most flattering compliment someone could give you?: that I’ve inspired them. Ah truly a ray of light in this dark depressing life of mine (￣∇￣) .+°

50. Something you feel people often misunderstand about you: my silence. me being silent to them often means I’m mad, or brooding, or being a bitch. LOL NO. that’s just my face ᕕ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ᕗ

tagging! @emigotchi @confused-tofu @rimalupin @arimii @pumpkingamelodge @spyroeden @midnightuglystepsister @midnightcindy @kseifert @oh-my-otome and you!

#tagging game #been so long since I last did one #others #personal

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sage-nebula · 7 years

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Hydrangea and Lavender

Hydrangea: What inspired you to begin writing in the first place?

Hah, well, there were three stages to this!

The first story I ever wrote, as embarrassing as it may be to admit this, was Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog fanfiction when I was in first grade. We had an assignment to write a story about anything we wanted, and, well, that’s what I wrote. I was super jazzed when we were first given the assignment because I loved reading and making up stories, and I enjoyed every second of writing it. I even drew some really bad illustrations to go with it. I mean, the story itself was bad too, I’m sure, but I was also about six or seven years old, so … I can be excused, I think. Either way, I knew at that point that I loved creating stories, although since I was so young it hadn’t really clicked in my head yet that I, too, could write books of my very own.

Fast forward to fifth grade. Stages two and three took place in that year. The first stage was when I was still attending my first elementary school, before I moved, and I was once again given a creative writing assignment. At my first elementary school, the fifth graders would write a short book every year that would be hard-bound and put in the school library. I was super mega psyched about this, because I had recently beaten The Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask and I wanted to write a sequel to it. (Note: My sequel idea was horrendous, good god, self. But again, I was ten, so I think I can cut myself some slack.) My teacher vetoed this idea, saying that it was plagiarism to write a Zelda story, which I was very offended by because, hey, I was making the plot and the words all by myself, that’s not plagiarism! Either way, I moved out of state before the project ever came to fruition anyway, but my first fifth grade teacher and I both clearly had very different ideas on the legitimacy of fanfiction.

Either way, I moved out of state for the spring semester, and at my new elementary school I met a boy who … you know those kids who would always brag about having super famous relatives or whatever to seem cool? He was one of those. He found out that I really liked video games, and although I was a huge outcast nerd that no one actually liked (trust me, I was very unpopular, I’m not exaggerating), he made up this whole story to me about how his uncle worked at Nintendo and was looking for new game ideas and that, if I gave him one, he’d pass it along to his uncle and it would get made.

And I, dumbass ten-year-old that I was, fell for it.

So I spent ages writing in a notebook, coming up with this game that was basically a Zelda rip-off, except the protagonist was a girl, had a dragon that she rode around on, there was no princess (although there were four female oracles to represent each season who were basically like royalty / demigoddesses), and there were fifty temples. No, really, I had conceived something like fifty temples because I was sad that my games ended and wanted one that would last FOREVER. Anyway, when I finally had all of these (terrible) ideas written down I took them to the boy, who then told me that, oops, the deadline had passed. I got upset because he had never told me there was a deadline, but it had passed and there was nothing that could be done. I spent some time being bummed about this (I put in all that work) before I realized … wait a second … I could turn this into a book … I could write this …

And that, my friend, is when it finally clicked in my thick head that I could write my very own books and when The Dream™ to become a published and beloved author was born. My original plan, when I was an idiot child, was to have a book published right away. I am now twenty-seven and feel I am not even close to that, but I also feel that I’ve improved a lot, and I do have my original fiction project that I’m working on, so … maybe someday. I hope. I dream. Please let it happen, universe. (In truth the universe can’t let anything happen. This power lies within me. I just have to utilize it. I must.)

Anyway, I know it might seem like all I write is fanfic, but I do have that original project as well. Fanfiction just helps keep me in practice … when I actually write it, anyway. I have got to get back in the groove.

Lavender: What is the most important thing to you as a writer?

HMMMM, I don’t know if there really one “most important thing”. I mean, when it comes to actually constructing the narrative, I feel like there are two main things:

The sentences — These are the framework of the story. They have to have the right amount of snap to keep the reader engaged. It doesn’t matter how creative your ideas are; if your sentences are garbage, your reader will not be able to get through the story. You have to have the mechanics down in order to get the story told, and so the sentence quality is massively important.

The characters — Your story is nothing without fantastic characters. You can have a myriad of plot twists and beautiful themes, but if your characters are boring, flat, or exist purely to be tropes or devices, your story is going to be tossed aside in no time at all. Further, your characters are what carry your plot; if they’re not strong enough to carry the plot, the plot will not be strong enough to support the reader for the entire ride. Really allow your characters to shine; they are what make the plot in the first place.

The second one also contains things like character development, relationships, dialogue, overall characterization, et cetera. All of those things are incredibly important.

Don’t get me wrong, the plot is important, too—you have to make sure it makes sense, that there aren’t gaping plot holes, et cetera. But your sentences and your characters are what make or break your story, at least in terms of whether or not the reader is going to toss it aside on the next page. I mean, for instance, I cannot read Tolkien’s work because, in my opinion, his prose is godawful. I understand that he set the stage for many of the high fantasy works that followed, that he gave birth to a lot of the tropes that we still see in use today, that his works were incredibly important for the genre. However, the man spends two pages describing goddamn trees. I cannot get through his prose. Even when it comes to The Hobbit, which is supposed to be for kids, I found myself so bored I wondered if I was reading an encyclopedia instead. Similarly, Neil Gaiman’s writing isn’t necessarily terrible, but I ended up disliking American Gods by the time I was halfway through the book because he was using similes or metaphors every other sentence, and so it felt like he was trying oh so very hard to seem impressive, which had the exact opposite effect. I distinctly remember rolling my eyes during the sex scene with Bastet because of yet another simile (or maybe it was a metaphor, can’t recall). I felt so annoyed at how smart he was trying to sound, and so his writing style is simply not for me. (Terry Pratchett, on the other hand? That man could write. His writing style is what made Good Omens one of my favorite books. Thank god he tempered Gaiman on that one. Thank god.)

So your sentences are incredibly important, but so are your characters. Your characters are everything. I don’t care how brilliant you believe your theme is, or how many plot twists you have; if your characters are garbage, that plot is not going anywhere. You will either get stuck when trying to write it, or your readers are not going to care about it. Readers like interesting plots, yes, but readers prefer fascinating characters. I mean, look at fandom. Sure, people talk about the plots of their favorite narratives, but what do they draw fanart of? What do they spend countless hours writing meta for? What inspires them to write fanfiction? The characters do. We don’t care about the Harry Potter series because of the plot. We don’t watch Star Wars because of the plot. We don’t really care about the plot of the superhero movies that we see and gush over. Again, aspects of the plot can be interesting, but the reason why we care is because we care about and connect to the characters. If your story does not have well-written, lovable characters (at least some of them have to be lovable, unless you’re explicitly trying to write a story in which everyone is loathsome and that is what causes the fascination), then it isn’t going anywhere, no matter how intelligent or witty your plot may be.

(And note: This is not to say that your plot isn’t important, because it is, of course it is. You need to put care into maintaining your plot as well. But it is to say that your characters must come first. Your characters are why your reader sticks with your story. And it’s worth pointing out that there are plenty of television shows that have great cultural longevity despite not having much in the way of a plot (e.g. Seinfeld, or The Office, or Parks and Recreation, et cetera), whereas it’s much harder to think of one that has lasted and been thought of as wonderful because it had a deep and intricate plot, but absolutely boring and dreadful characters. So your plot still is important, no doubt about that, but you must tend to your characters first.)

With all of that said, aside from that, originality is also important. Everyone should write a story that is theirs. And I don’t mean that cop-out I often see going around, about how, “just take someone else’s plot, because if you’re writing it’s automatically unique!” because that’s not true. Idea theft / idea plagiarism does exist, and I’ve seen it far too often in fandom (often done to my own works; I’ve been plagiarized in at least three different fandoms and it hurts like hell every time) to feel comfortable. However, although there are certain stories which are told time and again in different ways, they’re told in unique ways. You can see the narrative similarities between Harry Potter and Star Wars, for instance, but they’re both so incredibly different that you’d never feel that one was a direct copy of the other. The same goes if you throw Lord of the Rings into the mix. And although the His Dark Materials trilogy was written as a Take That at C.S. Lewis because of The Chronicles of Narnia, the two are still so different that if you didn’t already know that beforehand, you wouldn’t see how Lyra has elements of both Susan and Lucy in her. So I do think that originality is very important, and that everyone should strive to come up with something that is very much theirs, rather than just taking another’s idea and copying it wholesale. Don’t plagiarize. It never ends well and it’s incredibly hurtful to the person you do it to.

So yeah, those three things: Sentences, characters, originality. I think they’re all pretty important!

#flower writing meme #mywaywardcupcake

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