#i remembered my unsuccessful writing career

[tharannas]

this boy has been running on audacity and weed for several hours, please excuse his stupid pun

(2023/2018)

[yuna542]

Connected (OT8 x reader)

Part 1

Pairing: 3Racha x reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff

Warnings: 18+, Suggestive Themes, Swearing

Word Count: 3.3k

Note: That‘s the first chapter of a series, I‘m writing. It‘s my first time on tumblr… So I‘m a bit confused 0.0

On your first day of your new job as the personal manager of Stray Kids, you didn't expect to be standing in front of the man you made out with last night in a club. But it soon becomes clear that the Stray Kids don't just want you as their manager.

Will this passionate arrangement end your career?

It was one of those goldfish nights where you felt the need to drift in the waters of ecstasy and then forget everything naughty you had done. As if it had never happened.

Everyone did that when they shut down for an evening and dropped all inhibitions.

You'd go to a club, surrender to the neon lights, the sound of the music, and the alcohol, only to pretend the next day that you'd never danced close with strangers, drunkenly ripped your clothes off, or disappeared into a dark corner with the next best guy.

Tonight was one of those nights.

Your group of friends from university had invited you to go to one of the best and trendiest clubs in town, as they said. You didn't go out partying often, but when you did, you left all your worries at home for one night, and tonight was exactly the night you had something to celebrate.

After years of unsuccessful job hunting, you had finally gotten an acceptance letter.

Tomorrow afternoon would your first day at the new company start. Since you had only been living in Korea for a few months, you didn't know the company, so you were even more surprised when you got an acceptance letter for the job after only three days. It seemed like, they liked your profile so much, that they immediately chose you.

You had experience as a music and media journalist and had worked all over the world. Maybe that was exactly what they wanted.

So, to get rid of the excitement, you had accepted and gone to this club with old friends to have fun.

The bass vibrated in your ears and the lights immediately lulled you into the boisterous atmosphere.

Only after a few minutes you stood at bar and ordered the drinks for everyone. There was a group of seven people and you had lost three rounds of scissors-stone-paper. So now you had to take care of the drinks.

Once you ordered everything from memory and remembered the extra requests, even the bartender was impressed.

While he mixed the drinks, you leaned against the bar and looked towards the table that your friends had meanwhile conquered.

"You were able to memorize all that?", asked someone to your left, who was apparently also waiting for his drink.

"Sure... I have a pretty good memory”, you returned, giving the young man a curt look.

He smiled and that's when the bartender came over and set three drinks out for him.

His dark hair fell into his forehead and you looked at the silver rings on his fingers.

"That makes me jealous. I keep forgetting important things..."

He was cute, you had to admit. Although he was obviously trying to look tough with the tank top and leather jacket, his features were soft and his eyes sparkled like buttons in the spotlight. He was a weird mixture between hot and adorable.

You were served your first drinks and averted your eyes from the odd stranger.

"But I'll definitely remember your face!"

Your eyebrows shot up, as his pickup line was actually quite smooth. You turned back to him and couldn't help but smirk at his expectant look.

That's when you spotted two other guys behind him. They were whispering and giggling like kids while watching their friend. Apparently, he hadn't come to the bar just for the drinks.

"Are you flirting with me?", you asked, leaning back against the counter with a teasing grin.

He tilted his head and the corners of his mouth lifted mischievously. In fact, he was really attractive and you couldn't help but stare at him.

"I don't know... Does it work?”

This time you actually had to laugh.

"I gotta go, but feel free to tell your buddies I'm all over you”, you replied, nodding in the direction of the other two, who couldn't avoid to look over at us unobtrusively.

He glanced over his shoulder briefly and then grabbed his forehead with one hand.

"Those idiots..." he muttered more to himself and then put on an apologetic smile.

So you waved at a couple of your friends to help you with the drinks and carry them to the table.

"See you around”, you said goodbye and he just raised his hand sheepishly.

Back at your table, your friend Aiki grabbed you roughly by the shoulder and shook you.

"That guy at the bar! Were you talking to him?"

Confused at her excitement, you glanced again at the bar, where he was now carrying drinks to his friends.

"Yeah, why? He tried to flirt and obviously failed... Although he's really cute," you said with amusement, swirling the straw in your drink.

“No way!”

Her eyes nearly fell out of her head and you still didn't understand.

"What's so special about him?"

"I'm pretty sure that's Han", she explained, as if you had the slightest idea who she was talking about.

When you didn't reply, she said:

"Han Jisung! He is a member of this new K-pop band. They won a big survival-Show a few years ago, and everyone's been really into them ever since."

Sometimes you forget that in addition to her job as a journalist in Korea, she also had a fondness for all K-pop bands. She was almost obsessed with them. BTS was the reason she had gotten into the media world in the first place.

You, on the other hand, had only recently returned to Korea. Even though you were born here, you had spent very little time in the country.

The evening took its course and soon the shot glasses were piling up in front of you, the music sounded more and more enticing and eventually you were magically drawn to the dance floor with a few of your friends.

Another passion of you was dancing.

You had even given dance lessons in America to teenagers and young adults your age. You missed dancing here in Korea.

Therefore, it hardly took a second for you to move your body to the music. It was your very own therapy that brought your mind and body back into harmony.

The music flowed through the speakers directly into your blood and with the alcohol, any inhibitions fell away. Soon you lost your girlfriends somewhere among the people and danced alone. You didn't mind, but that's when you felt someone approaching from behind.

"Don't be startled", a soft voice murmured, and you looked over your shoulder into a frighteningly beautiful face.

Torn from your movement, you stumbled against his chest and he placed a hand firmly on your hip to keep you from losing your balance.

Astonished you turned around completely and the man looked as if he already regretted having approached you. He ran his hand through his dark hair and his biceps stood out.

He was wearing a simple shirt with a denim jacket and the broad shoulders and shy smile didn't quite want to match.

"My friend didn't mean to scare you away earlier. If he said something stupid, I'm really sorry."

That's when you finally recognized him. He was one of that K-pop-Han's friends.

"His pick-up line actually wasn't that bad", you admitted, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

In front of his broad shoulders, you suddenly felt small.

Now he looked genuinely surprised.

"Oh... Okay. Do you want to maybe have a drink with us? He could apologise and you seem a little lost all by yourself."

Judging by his engaging aura, maybe he was also part of that band you had never heard of. However, you highly doubted it. Idols were not that friendly. In all the interviews you had done with K-pop bands, the members had always been reserved and cold.

The man in front of you, on the other hand, radiated warmth and his eyes reflected a gentleness that contrasted completely with his massive appearance.

You nodded, after all you didn't feel like looking for your friends. You might as well use the time to meet new people. And the guy made you really curious.

Relieved, he exhaled loudly and let you walk ahead. He led you to a sitting area, where black sofas stood. There you already discovered the guy from the bar, who was talking to the third person.

When he spotted you,he fell silent and looked at you as if he had been hit by a punch.

"I'm Chan, by the way”, the man next to you introduced himself and gave you a soft smile.

"My name is Y/N”, you introduced yourself as well. He smiled broadly and you could only stare at his dimples for a moment.

As you got to the others, his buddy now looked to you and immediately grinned like an idiot.

If Chan was broadly built, this guy was a wall. He wore a tight black shirt under which his defined muscles were very present and the sleeves were so tight around his upper arms that you feared they would burst at any moment.

But he was also unusually attractive. There was something about them all that made it impossible to look away.

"Guys, this is Y/N”, Chan introduced you, and the muscleman stood up to bow curtly.

"I'm Changbin. So our Hannie didn't scare you away too much?"

Said Hannie was still sitting frozen on the sofa, looking at you as if you had flown across the room on a unicorn.

"No, he was actually quite charming. A little awkward, but nice”, you replied with amusement, glaring at him.

"You hear that? She didn't think it was as terrible as it looked from here."

Changbin patted his friend on the shoulder with a chuckling laugh, and he just puckered his mouth in embarrassment.

Then suddenly Chan was standing next to you again with two drinks in his hands. You hadn't even noticed he was gone.

"I didn't know what you wanted, so now I just got a strawberry margarita and a caipirinha. Have whatever you want! I'll have the other one then."

Surprised by his kindness, you blinked at him a bit surprised. Never had a guy been so accommodating in a bar.

"I'll have the margarita. Thank you.”

You sat down and ended up between Jisung and Chan. It wasn't long before Han had regained his confidence back and you were toasting, chatting, and you completely lost track of time.

The guys were really friendly and even though you were the only woman, you didn't feel the least bit uncomfortable in their presence. You even felt quite safe, which was naive considering that you had met them only a few hours ago.

But the alcohol helped to throw all worries overboard.

"I've seen you dance.... Do you do it professionally?", Chan asked, and you felt his thigh brush yours.

Restlessly, you tugged at the hem of your black dress. It reached your thighs and nestled comfortably against your body. Han looked at your legs and cleavage when he thought you wouldn't notice.

Chan, on the other hand looked so deeply into your eyes that you feared he could read your mind.

"I'm a dance teacher. But it's just a hobby."

Changbin leaned forward with interest and nodded.

"What do you do for a living?", asked Han now, and you tried to ignore Chan's hand resting on his thigh, almost touching your leg.

"I'm a music journalist. In fact, I moved back to Korea because I got a job here."

"That sounds exciting!" said Chan, his knuckles seemingly inadvertently brushing you bare skin. Your foggy mind immediately wondered what he would look like without the tank top.

Before you got even more lost in his eyes, you asked:

"And you guys? How do you know each other?"

"We were trained together and we also work together now”, Changbin began, and you noticed the warning looks from the other two.

"So you're self-employed?", you probed further.

Maybe your friend had been mistaken and they weren't in a band at all. Chan nodded quickly before Jisung could open his mouth.

"Yeah right. Us and some friends developed our own brand."

"Sounds cool”, you replied, as the alcohol gradually drove you away from the conversation. You were finding it harder and harder to focus between the men.

So you asked: "Are you guys coming to the dance floor?" You had to do something to get away from Chans teasing hands, Jisungs sweet glares and Changbins biceps.

Han pouted and shook his head.

"I'm going to stay here. Unfortunately, I hurt my foot and need to take it easy."

He really looked like he wanted to sprint out onto the dance floor but couldn't.

"I'll stay with Hannie”, Changbin said, leaning back on the sofa.

"Just the two of us, then", you said to Chan.

Before he could talk back, you pulled him to his feet by his arm and dragged him toward the dance floor.Once there, you turned to him and began to move automatically to the beat of the music.

The alcohol made all the people, the music and the lights melt into one mass and before you understood it, you were dancing pressed tightly against Chan.

At first he was timid, as if he was afraid to touch you, but gradually he became bolder. He also moved smoothly. Controlled and conscious.

Like a dancer.

"You can dance?", you asked amused, wrapping your arms around his neck. He laughed sheepishly and put his hands on your waist.

"A little”, he replied close to your ear so you could hear him over the loud music. Up close, his lips looked even more enticing and you wondered if they tasted as sweet as they looked. His eyes were now roaming up and down your face as well.

You turned and leaned back against his chest and pressed your ass agains his body. A knowing grin spread across your face as you felt his fingers digging harder into your sides as you rolled your hips against his.

He moved with you and with every little touch, the air charged electrically. You were insanely hot and his shirt was also sticking to his body by now. You grinded your ass harder against him and he immediately had to gasp right at your ear.

That's when he quickly turned you around so that you bounced against his chest.

"What are you doing?" he murmured in your ear and you let your fingertips trail over his chest.

"Nothing...", you replied, looking at him through your long lashes. The corners of his mouth slowly lifted and he began to get into the game, letting his hands wander down your back until they were firmly pressed against your ass.

The alcohol breathed carelessness and desire into the two of you.

His lips hovered in front of yours and suddenly you didn't hear the music anymore. His hot breath bounced against your lips and that's when he started spreading kisses on your neck. Overwhelmed by the sudden tension on your skin, you curled your fingers into his shirt.

His lips brushed over your skin as light as a feather, down to your collarbone and finally to your cleavage.

He looked up at you, and the same heat that tightened into a ball in your stomach was reflected in his eyes.

Without thinking any further, you grabbed his hand and pulled him off the dance floor. As soon as you were a little off to the side, in a corner that was dimly lit, you felt his hands on your waist.

Stormily, he pressed you against the wall and that's when his lips finally collided with yours.

That embarrassed, charming boy from before was gone. In its place had come a passionate and wild tornado that swept you helplessly along with it.

His lips moved hard against yours as you buried your hands in his hair.

His broad shoulders shielded you from the rest of the club, and your heart beat so loudly it felt like it wanted to jump out of your chest.

His hands were everywhere, exploring your body, every curve and every patch of skin not covered by fabric.

For a moment, he broke the kiss so you could both catch your breath. His forehead was pressed firmly against yours and there he was grinning again as sheepishly as before.

You were breathing heavily and he shook his head slightly.

"I don't usually do this", he muttered and that's when your eyes met.

"Yeah, me neither", you replied.

That was the truth.

It took a long time for someone to pique your interest, and you usually didn't let people get to you that easily.

But with Chan, suddenly this heat was flowing in your veins and you couldn't turn off the desire even if you tried.

"Actually, I wanted to help Jisung.... I'm a horrible wing man."

"Yeah that's right. Your pretty bad…”

As if he actually had a guilty conscience, he pressed his lips together.

That made you laugh and you had to put your hand over your mouth as he eyed you with those dark eyes.

"Do you regret it?", you asked after a short silence.

Directly, he shook his head.

"No. Definitely not. You're stunning."

That did bring a blush to your cheeks.

Not wanting him to see how much his words flattered you, you pulled him closer again and kissed him intensely.

He pressed you against him until you felt his bulge clearly against your already soaked cunt.

"I want to fuck you right now”, he growled with a deep voice, that turned you even more on.

An excited moan escaped you and you rolled your hips harder against his growing bulge. It would have been easy to push your panties aside and free his dick so he could fuck you in the dark corner against the wall like a slut.

Your head was spinning and you wanted to tear his shirt off his body here and now. But the wild smooching quickly found its end when a voice sounded behind Chan.

"I really don't want to disturb you, but we have to go, Chan!"

He merely released his lips from yours and hung his head, not releasing you from his grip. His hands gripped even harder into your hips.

"Already?"

Changbin had a big grin on his face and you stared at the floor.

"Yeah... You know what's coming up tomorrow. And Han had way to much drinks."

There was a certain professionalism returning to Chans body as he heard about his friend.

"Hannie is already waiting in the cab. Hurry up!"

Chan nodded, then Changbin turned to you again.

"It was nice meeting you."

With that, he awkwardly said goodbye and left.

"I'm so sorry, but I really have to go", Chan said, as if he needed to justify himself, and you suppressed a disappointed sigh.

Instead, you simply nodded. It was getting late for you to go home as well. After all, you had your first day of work tomorrow.

And so the mysterious charming man disappeared and you remembered much too late that you hadn't asked him for his number.

--

The two rappers raised their eyes as their friend finally got into the car. After they drove off, Han asked while rubbing his eyes with one hand:

"What took you so long? We were supposed to be back at the dorm by now. We have a busy schedule tomorrow..."

Chan swallowed and was glad he was sitting in front of his friends and didn't have to face them. So they couldn't see that he was stained red up to his ears. With his arm he tried to hide his erection that won’t get soon if this girl won’t stop to ghost around his head.

He knew that tonight had been a big risk. If someone had recognized him and taken pictures of him with the young woman, he would have been screwed. He didn't know himself what had come over him.

"Hyung?", Han tried again, sounding annoyed. There was silence for a few minutes until Changbin couldn't take it anymore and it just burst out of him.

"I just caught Chan making out wildly with that girl."

The oldest whirled around in his seat despite his seatbelt and stared at Changbin. But Han looked surprised, not angry.

"Really?" he asked, and that's when one corner of his mouth began to lift.

"We just kissed for a second", he justified himself, and Changbin couldn't help but laugh.

"From what I saw, it was a miracle you were still wearing clothes at all. You almost fucked her right next to the dance floor."

Chan lashed out, but couldn't reach Changbin in the back and hit the air. This now made Jisung laugh as well, and they continued to tease him all the way to their apartment, where the rest of the Stray Kids were sleeping.

But in the next morning all of them knew the story of their leader fiercely making out with a hot girl at the club and did not stop teasing him.

-> Part 2

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© Yuna542 — 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[modern-day-bard]

Worth The Feeling

Note: I want to apologize in advance because my singular semester of Italian in college did nothing to help write this chapter. I relied on Google translate alone. I'm sorry to any Italian speakers! I tried my best

Content Warning: 18+

This story includes explicit smut, intimidation, and an age gap relationship (26 x 40s). Minors, do not interact.

Chapter 12

For the second time in 48 hours, I wake with my head resting on Javi. Though this time there was far less panic. As soon as I press snooze on my alarm, I take a moment to inhale his scent. Even in Italy after a long flight, he still smells like him. Cedarwood, soap, male. Everything about him was so masculine, even in his gentle touches. And there were a lot of those last night.

He caressed my hair as he told me about his time in New York and we compared our favorite restaurants and coffee shops. He played with my fingers as he gave me a rather brief, for my benefit, recount of his former relationships. He kissed my forehead several times, especially when he was politely deescalating any advances I made on him. I knew he had caught the way my cheeks blushed and my breathing caught when he had unzipped his jeans to get into bed, but his face informed me that it was purely for comfort purposes. He really was sticking to this new plan of waiting until my head was clear. As if that could ever be the case with him nearby.

We agreed, through a far less heated conversation last night, that we shouldn't tell anyone at work about us. He knew, of course, that Lana had already known. Or he figured, and I confirmed it. He hadn't seemed to care, and the more we discussed it, I was the only one bringing up the fact that the age gap could have a serious impact on his career as well. The only thing he seemed to be focused on was waiting until shooting was over. That way we could say the relationship started after we worked together and no one could question my integrity.

But that didn't solve his career problem.

If I reminded him of it, he would pivot the conversation to my future as a director. What size studio I want to work for, what sort of projects I hoped to work on, etc. By the third unsuccessful attempt of bringing up his side of things, I gave up. And at that point, I was so tired that I was almost happy to relinquish my side of the conversation and give into sleep. I had fallen asleep with my head on his chest, his arm wrapped securely over my shoulder, and I had woken up just the same.

To my surprise, he didn't stir at the alarm. I know I only have a few more minutes before it goes off again, so I lift my eyes to catch a glimpse of him. His eyes are shut, his face softened by sleep. There is an innate warmth about Javi, but he feels even warmer like this. The window to our left still has its curtains open. It's still pitch black outside, and the sun won't rise for several more hours. I feel a dull ache in my chest over the fact that I won't be able to lay here exactly like this until that time. But I know if I don't move now, the alarm will sound again, and I'll wake Javi up before I have time to get ready. After how long he let me keep sleeping on the plane, I owe it to him a few more minutes of rest.

Slowly, I remove my hand from his chest, lifting my head along with it. I start to wiggle toward the edge of the bed, and let out a sharp gasp when I suddenly feel his arm tighten around me.

"Oh no you don't," he slurs the words slightly, making me giggle. His movement makes me flop back onto his chest, not exactly reluctant.

"I don't have the luxury of sleeping in, sir," I pull back a little, but he just pulls me back down.

"Sir?" He pries open one eye to peer down at me. "I like the sound of that."

I look at his lips, perfectly parted and just a little bit swollen. It physically pains me not to just climb on top of him and spend the rest of these early hours together.

"You might get to hear it some more today. I'm in charge of you and Jack, remember?"

Javi hums in reply, the arm that had been slung across me is now tracing slow circles on my back.

"We get to see the lake today," I sing in an effort to wake him up a little, and also to distract myself from his fingers.

"I would rather stay here." His hand traces down my lower back, sending tingles up my spine.

With his eyes closed again, I take the opportunity to lift myself closer, until my lips are inches from his.

"So would I," I whisper against his mouth, "But I would rather keep my job."

That got his eyes to open. Whether it was the mention of my job or the proximity of my lips to his, it didn't matter. As long as he was waking up.

I'm allowed to pull away from him now, but he gives my bottom a light smack as I get up, making me squeal. I grab another pastry off the desk and sift through my suitcase, feeling Pedro's eyes on me the entire time. I don't risk looking in his direction and I take everything in the bathroom with me. I get dressed in a hurry, opting for linen pants instead of my typical jeans. I figured I would change it up while we're in Italy, and I have no idea how hot it will be today. With the potential heat and the fact that I fell asleep with damp hair, I create a french braid down the back. After some minimal makeup that may hold up on set all day, and after my pastry is scarfed down, I exit the bathroom.

I almost bump into Javi, who was about to knock on the bathroom door.

"That was almost the second time I've hit you with a door, you know."

He shrugs, one hand slipping into his pocket. "I wouldn't have minded." His eyes are still sleepy and he assesses my outfit. The once-over should probably make me self-conscious, but it just pulls me deeper into his gaze. He places his hand on the side of my face, stroking my cheek softly before running his hand to the back of my neck.

I let out a startled laugh as he pulls on my braid, stepping close enough to me that our chests are touching.

"I'm a fan of this," he says, yanking down even further. He leans down, placing a lengthy kiss on the hollow of my throat. All I can do is try to breathe.

"Were you..." I get distracted by his hot breath on my skin, "Were you coming to tell me something?"

To my dismay, that makes him pull back so he can look me in the eyes.

"I'm going back to my room to change, just in case anyone saw me in this yesterday. It would also be smart to brush my teeth for my first day on this set." He smirks, letting go of my braid, bringing his hand back to my cheek. "Thank you for last night..." I swear his cheeks have a light dust of pink to them. "I'll be thinking of you today."

"You too," I give him a small smile. How can these words make me shy? I was the furthest thing from coy when he was tugging me back by my hair a moment ago. "I'll come get you soon, sir."

Javi's eyes spark with heat as his smile grows. He gives me a quick kiss on the cheek before heading out the door. I get the feeling that if he didn't leave in a hurry, one of us would have been too tempted to stay.

Twenty minutes later, I decide to go to Jack's room first, giving Javi more time to freshen up. Jack greets me with a mumbled, "Good morning, or evening..." as he closes his door behind him.

"Do you need a copy of today's pages, Jack?" I say as brightly as I can at 1:30 in the morning. The older man just shakes his head, following me to Javi's door. He opens it after only two knocks, looking far better than should be allowed for someone who got a maximum of four hours of sleep.

"Good morning, Javi." I say in the same tone I used for Jack.

"Morning, Ava. Morning, Jack." He smiles at each of us in turn, lingering slightly on me when he realizes that Jack is still half asleep.

"Follow me," I say, bounding down the hallway. I'm finding that it isn't that difficult to feign a bubbly disposition today. I lead them to the front of our hotel where the driver is waiting. I'm struck once more with how fresh the air is, even in the dampness of the middle of the night. There are a few bars open a few streets away, and I can hear the music and laughter from the entrance of our hotel. It feels strange to me that my day is just starting and theirs hasn't yet ended. I might wish I could join them if I wasn't seeing Lake Como today. That, and I'm decently pleased about spending more time around Javi today. Crazy how much can change in a matter of days.

We hop into the car, me in the front and the talent in the back. Javi has made a couple of attempts of light conversation with Jack, but most of his tries have been met with mumbles. Maybe Jack is getting too old for this. As we careen through the city streets, making our way toward the country, I can see Jack in the rearview mirror. His head has started to lull back, hitting the seat rest several times before he eventually gives in and stays put. I risk a glance at Javi, who meets my eyes immediately in the mirror. I smile to myself, my cheeks warming as they always do from his gaze. He smirks, breaking eye contact and focusing out the window. I follow suit.

It takes a little over an hour to reach the lake. I rest my eyes a few times, but I'm far too excited to actually sleep. I've always wanted to visit this part of Italy. I know that the majority of my time will be spent running around, as I always do, but even catching a few glimpses of the lake will be a dream come true. I scan over just a few pages for the first scene we're shooting today, and it looks like Jack and Javi's characters will be speaking at a coffee shop overlooking the view. That must be the sunrise shot that Lloyd wants, and it should give me some time to see the water.

When we arrive, it's still pitch black out. I know from the map left in my room that the set crew is camped somewhere near the cliffside of the lake, but I still can't see much when we exit the car. I check my watch and we're only a couple minutes behind which is always expected when wrangling actors. I suppress a laugh, knowing that if I had it my way I would have wrangled one in my room for the rest of the day. I open Jack's door, lightly tapping his arm to let him know we're here. Javi is thanking the driver, and already someone from hair and makeup spots him and is waving him over. He turns around and smiles at me over the top of the car.

"Thank you, Ava."

I nod and return his smile, "No problem. See you later."

He holds my gaze for another moment before turning to go to hair and makeup. I shake Jack just a little bit harder, stirring him enough to let him know he's arrived and is needed in hair and makeup as well. He mumbles a gruff, "Thanks," and stumbles his way toward an equally as tired looking hair assistant. I thank the driver, and turn to try and find Dwyane and a walkie. It takes a bit longer than I'd like it to, because even though we're now on location and it's forced everyone to shrink closer together, it's about double the amount of chaos as L.A. I hope for Lana's sake that she has a moment to drop her stuff off at the hotel before making her way over here, but I know it's unlikely. I can see a few of the lighting crew scurrying about, and I know the sound crew can't be far behind.

I eventually find Dwayne, who immediately hands me a walkie, a piece of paper, and keys to a golf cart.

"Do you speak Italian?"

I almost laugh but then I realize he's serious.

"No, I don't."

"Dammit," He runs a hand over his bald head. "Okay, try to find someone on set who speaks Italian. While you're at it, I need you to get up to this bakery and set up the prop food. Well first you'll need to go to props and get the food. It's for the first shot this morning and we're rolling in only like, two hours." His walkie buzzes to life just as he finishes speaking, effectively ending our conversation.

"You got it," I say even though he's not listening to me anymore.

It takes me longer than I want it to to find the prop department, but they're waiting with the golf cart full of fake baked goods. I take out the piece of paper from Dwayne and punch in the location on my maps app. Though I don't know what work awaits for me at the bakery, I feel pretty relieved to be zooming away from the chaos on my little cart. The further I get from our campsite, the more the lake becomes visible. It's still dark out, but the sky has a tint of blue to it now. I feel a buzz of excitement as I drive further up the cliffside. I'll probably have a good view of the water once the sun rises, so long as I don't get placed in another trailer for the day.

Finding the bakery isn't too difficult once I make it up to the top of the cliff. I forget sometimes that shooting on location means that we're going to be interacting with locals and real, functioning stores. And as I start to attempt and explain why I'm there with a cart full of fake food to a bakery employee who clearly wasn't aware that I'd be coming today, I seriously regret not taking Italian in high school.

I try to make a TV screen with my hands and pan it over our surroundings. "See? I'm with the movie people."

The man just stares at me, visibly irritated. I'm sure he has to get back to baking real items for the bakery that will actually open in a few hours. I wish I could tell him that I relate to the early hours in some capacity, but I can't even seem to explain to him why I'm here.

Another man comes out from behind the counter, meeting us in the doorway where I'm awaiting further instruction.

" La troupe cinematografica, Gio. " The older man claps the guy I was attempting to speak to— Gio apparently— on the back.

"Ahh," Gio nods, going back inside.

The older man extends his hand, and I smile apologetically and take it.

"I'm sorry, I don't speak Italian."

"That's okay," the older man says in a thick accent, "They said they would be coming today. We roped off the side of the cafe for your crew. You can put the food there."

"Thank you!" I sigh in relief, getting back in my cart before pulling it around to the side of the building. I know I need to wait here for the props department. They'd kill me if I set things up incorrectly or out of order. It doesn't seem possible with baked goods, but stranger things have happened.

The next hour and a half is spent simply waiting for the rest of the crew to get here. Though at the time it seemed imperative that I take these props to this bakery immediately, now I'm just sitting and waiting. I don't know exactly where the phrase "hurry up and wait" comes from, but it ought to come from the film industry. Just when the sky is beginning to show the first signs of morning, more crew start to arrive at the top of the cliff. Prop people take the things off of my cart, and lighting has arrived along with a few cameramen and some of their hand-held cameras. A few stray locals on a morning walk stop and peek at our work for a little while, and I wonder if the excitement will grow once Javi and Jack arrive.

Finally, I see some of the sound team pulling in, and I smile knowing Lana must be with them. Sure enough, I see her curls and a signature colorful scarf on the back of their cart, and I spring up from mine to greet her.

"You made it in one piece! See? I told you so," She exclaims, giving me a hug.

"It wasn't without its struggles," I grumble, but I can't deny how happy I am to have her here to scold me. "How are you? Did you drop your stuff off at the hotel already?" I pull back, assessing her.

"Nope, straight from the airport to set today. I hope you weren't planning on us going out tonight because I'm beat."

"Argh, you poor thing. I'm sorry. I am all for a night in, I didn't get much sleep either."

Lana tilts her head, "Were you still nervous from the flight?"

"No, no. I'll...explain later." I know that Javi and I agreed to keep things low-key at work, and he already knows that Lana is aware of our attraction to each other. But I still feel weird telling Lana. For the second time, I want to keep this between me and him. Luckily, I don't have to elaborate because Lana is already being pulled away to work.

"We need two mats on the ground near the tables for the first shot!" Hank, the sound director, is waving in our direction, "Let's go."

Lana gives me a tired, understanding smile. "See you later, babes."

"Bye," I watch her jog toward the cafe, but am distracted quickly by the sound of several vehicles to my right.

A van arrives, and I feel a few butterflies release in my tummy when I realize it must be either the talent or the director. And to my pleasant and unpleasant surprise, it's both. Lloyd looks borderline deranged, dark circles painting his under eyes, his gray hair even spikier than usual. He tumbles out of the van, moving instantly to Hank who now stands at the front of the cafe. I can tell that Lloyd is doing his best not to shout in the presence of the locals who will surely become prospective fans, though it certainly doesn't stop him in L.A.

My heart leaps as I see Javi exit next. His hair is slicked back, and his muscles are peaking through a crisp white linen button down. Sunglasses perch on the bridge of his nose, and I feel a tingle thinking of how that nose grazed my neck last night.

Snap out of it. As far as the crew knows, a night like that would be out of the question.

I shake my head a little, looking down to organize the scripts in my hands. Or rather, to put them out of order so I can pretend to reorganize them.

A few more people step out of the van, with Jack appearing last. Or so I think, before I see a handsome head of chestnut locks follow him out. As he straightens, I feel my eyes widen. That's Blake Henley. Unlike Jack, I can place him immediately. His show on HBO took off like wildfire last year, and he's been the talk of the town recently. I really, really should have checked out that cast list that Lana sent over. I quickly flip open today's pages and skim enough to find that he is playing an Italian Interpol agent helping Javi's character. I guess this cafe scene is the introduction to this character through Jack. Maybe I would have known that before stepping on set if I hadn't spent last night the way I did. I remember Barb's words of encouragement to "live a little," and I decide to forgive myself for now.

I make my way over to Lloyd, silently offering him one of the scripts in my hands. He takes it with a barely noticeable nod in my direction. I pass them out to the few other members of the crew who got off the van with him. Javi walked to the side of the cafe to speak with Jack as soon as he exited the van, so I don't have to worry about feigning indifference while handing him pages. I turn to Blake next.

"Good morning, Mr. Henley. Do you need today's pages?"

Blake looks up from his phone, pulling down his sunglasses slightly with one hand. His bright blue eyes are inquisitive.

"Good morning," he smiles warmly, "That would be great, thanks."

"Of course," I hand him one, making a move to turn away when he speaks again.

"What is your name? You already seem to know mine."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Ava Cohen," I extend my hand to him, balancing all the scripts in one arm. "Production Assistant. If you need anything feel free to radio to me or to Dwayne. He's the Key-PA. He can usually track down one of us if you need assistance."

Blake shakes my hand, his gaze relaxed, his smile still warm. "I'll be sure to remember that."

I feel like we've been shaking hands just long enough for it to slip into uncomfortable territory.

"Great," I say. Why do I feel so awkward? Maybe I am actually starstruck this time. I don't feel it though. Blake seems nice enough, just also famous and attractive. I've been around plenty of famous and attractive men at this point. That reminder still doesn't ease the tension in my shoulders. Blake holds his smile before returning to his phone, and I make my way over to my cart again to wait out the first few runs of blocking.

- - -

I spend the next several hours sitting in that golf cart. The scene is shot and reshot. Lloyd calms down somewhat when his vision starts to come together. Jack's character introduces Javi's character to Blake, and I see this introduction about nine times before Lloyd calls cut, only to wave me over.

"Ava, I need you to talk to that guy," He's mumbling so much that it's hard to understand him. He jerks his head to the left, and I look to find Gio, the irritated waiter from before.

"What about?" I keep my voice casual, not at all hinting at how tired I feel.

"I need to move those two tables back, otherwise I can't get the wide shot."

I peer over to the side.

"The two tables with customers in them?" I whisper.

Lloyd nods as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"You speak Italian, so I figured that would be best."

It takes all my remaining energy not to scoff in his face. We just had this conversation this morning.

"Lloyd, I don't speak–"

"Please just figure it out!" He waves his arms in the air, brushing past me to talk to one of our producers.

I decide it best to look for the owner who spoke some English earlier. But after scouring the inside of the small cafe, he is nowhere to be found. Gio is the only waiter I can see, and the girl at the cash register is too busy with customers. I take a deep breath, and approach Gio before he can enter the cafe again.

"Hello again," I give him a smile that he does not return. "Would it be possible to move two of these tables inside just for a few minutes? I'm sorry to inconvenience you, I know you have customers seated there."

Gio just stares blankly at me before spinning to look at the tables I gestured to.

"Move them? Maybe?" I try, my tone increasingly apologetic.

Gio shakes his head, muttering something to himself.

Then, rather loudly to me, "Cosa ti ho detto stamattina? Non capisco–"

Suddenly I feel a hand lightly graze my back. I look up to find Blake, smiling at Gio.

"Mi scusi, potremmo spostare quei due tavoli all'interno per qualche minuto?"

I'm no expert, but his Italian sounded pretty great to me. Gio seemed to understand him just fine, and the two of them negotiated back and forth for a moment before Gio walked over and spoke to the two tables of customers. And, thankfully, they moved inside.

"Thank you," I exhale to Blake, "I think I'd leave here in a body bag if I told Lloyd we couldn't move those tables."

Blake laughs a bright, musical laugh. "My pleasure. I'm guessing you lied a little bit on your resume?"

Presumptuous. "No, Lloyd just has a goldfish memory when he's under pressure. I've worked for them for a few years now."

"Ahh..." Blake gives me a once-over, not exactly subtle. Maybe he's trying to discern how old I am? How many years I could have been working for them?

"Were you hired for your Italian?" I ask, mostly to break the silence. I realize quickly that he could take it as an insult. Some actors certainly would. He was probably hired for his incredible talent, or his resemblance to the character description, or his charm, or whatever other combo he would spit back at me now.

Thankfully, he laughs again.

"No, but it's helpful."

"Ava!" Lloyd calls out to me.

"I'll leave you to it," Blake turns to go, "Feel free to radio me, if you need any more... assistance," he winks, mimicking my words from earlier. I furrow my brow. Could he be flirting with me? I've had approximately two actors in the past do this, but it becomes clear pretty quickly that they just like to make people flustered, and nothing more. I assume that either Blake is in that category, or he just naturally seems flirtatious.

I walk swiftly toward Lloyd, feeling eyes on me from my left. I glance over, catching Javi's stare only momentarily before I reach the umbrella where Lloyd is waiting. Even catching his eyes for a moment, I feel the heat rise to my cheeks. Beforehand, these moments were my secret alone. I could look at him as often as I wanted, and if we caught each other's eyes, I always figured it was an accident. Now that these moments are shared, the typical heat feels more like a fever being passed between us. Of course, he looks so casual that it appears tranquil. And with this sweat beading down my neck, it makes me feel as though I'm the only one affected by our contraband gaze.

I explain the situation to Lloyd, who's relief is fleeting as a few clouds move in front of the sun, destroying his concept. I try explaining that the clouds will move, but the look he shoots my direction practically incinerates my tongue. It will probably be best to lay low the rest of the day. Hours pass, more tasks are completed, a lot more waiting is done, most of which sitting on my golf cart, and eventually Lloyd calls for a wrap. The sun has already set, and we were shooting some b-roll footage of each of the characters on set today. The cafe owner, now returned from wherever he had gone, seemed quite relieved when Lloyd announced that we were finished for that location. I had to agree, otherwise I would need to work on my Italian. Or ask Blake for his help again, but I wasn't sure how sincere that offer was.

I pick up any other PA's I see on my way down to base camp before we jump in the van to take us back to our hotel. After a long day of filming, the ride back feels quick as I nod off a few times. When I walk back into my room, Lana is busy unpacking her stuff. I give her a wide-eyed expression to say how long the day has been.

"Dude, I know." Lana says, taking out her toiletry bag and plopping it on the bed in front of her. "I'm really starting to feel the fact that I've had about six hours of sleep in the past three days. Going out before the flight also wasn't the best idea."

I think back to the photo with that random guy, and back to Javi bringing it up last night...

"Yeah," is all I manage to say. Lana gives me a quick sideways glance, leading me to add, "I'm sorry your flight was delayed, you must be exhausted. First shower is all yours."

Her face brightens, "I knew there was a reason I roomed with you."

I roll my eyes, plopping down on my bed as Lana shuffles past me to get to the bathroom. I stare at the ceiling, thinking of laying here last night with my head on Javi's chest. I wonder when I'll be able to do that again. If I'll get to do that again. Last night he brought up his concerns of me wanting him just for a release, but it's more than that. Up until last night, I hadn't felt that level of peace in a very long time. Maybe it was selfish, wanting him just so I could bask in the serenity his presence gave me. But I did want him. I wanted him for the warmth of his hands on the plane, coxing me into a steady heartbeat. I wanted him for his easy-going nature, making me feel welcome, like I was always meant to be there. With him. I wanted him, yes. But I wanted to be with him, too.

Lana comes out of the bathroom, dabbing her hair with a towel. She apologizes for the time that she took in there. I must have been lost in my thoughts for longer than I realized.

"Hey," she says, dropping her towel on the chair by the desk, "I was thinking we should try to sneak off one of these days and try to do some sight-seeing. There's the cathedral, and the Scala theater. I don't know if they have any shows there but I think it's a museum and—what are these?" I hear some crinkling, and sit up on my elbows.

Shit. In my middle-of-the-night, Javi-induced haze, I had completely forgotten to clean up the provisions he had brought with him last night. Lana is now inspecting a package of crackers in one hand, and a croissant in the other.

"Oh, I went to the store yesterday when we got here. I thought we might be hungry and I didn't know if I would be able to get breakfast this morning."

"What store?" She asks, her tone bright and even as she opens the packet of crackers.

"I don't know, there were a couple little shops down the street."

"Mhm," Lana pops a cracker into her mouth, "And do all of the shops on the street have the name of our hotel on them?" She turns the packet around, showing the logo.

I gulp.

"Not down the street, I meant that I bought them at the hotel shop."

Lana nods slowly, "Weird. I was starving when I just got back. I couldn't find the hotel store. I even asked the receptionist, and she told me that they don't have one... She recommended I try room service."

I had never been a decent liar.

I could feel my palms start to sweat. She already knew I went on a pseudo-date with him. And she certainly knew that I had been upset about our time apart. Would it really be so bad if she knew now? Something about him being here, in the room...I felt that tug that I wanted to keep that part a secret. At least for now, until we figured out what we were going to do. But I also didn't want to lie to Lana, even if I could do it properly. So I settled for a half-truth.

"Okay, fine, Detective. He brought me some of his mini-bar food."

Lana's raised one of her full, arched brows. "And...when you say he, you mean Javi?"

"Yes," I half hiss. Who else would it be?

I jump, startled by the croissant Lana had been holding a moment ago hitting my shoulder.

"The last I heard, it was never going to happen between you two! What changed?" She munches on more crackers, sitting cross legged on the bed next to me. I get the feeling that this curiosity is partly due to the need for a bedtime story. I tell her about the plane, which earns several puppy-eyed, pouted-mouth stares. And in her classically good nature, she also seems genuinely relieved that I wasn't sitting alone. I tell her about him appearing with the food, and I leave it at that.

"So he shows up, gives you the food, and leaves like a delivery driver? He doesn't come in at all?" That innocent tone isn't fooling me this time.

"Yup. It was a long day, I think we both wanted some sleep."

She gives me a look as though I just suggested something incredibly foul.

"Speaking of, I need a shower, and we have another early day tomorrow," I pop up from my bed, grabbing my pajamas to head into the bathroom.

"Ava," Lana calls, and I turn with one hand on the bathroom doorway. "You are being...safe, right?" I give her an incredulous look. She hurries to finish her thought, "I don't just mean in terms of health class. I mean, he's an actor. I know it's been a long time for you and...I want to make sure he knows that this isn't just some fling for you. You know what I mean?"

"You don't think I'm capable of having an Italian fling?" I toss my hair for mock-insult.

Lana, however, is completely serious.

"No. I know you're not. It's either real for you, or it's...nothing."

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

[runwayrunway]

No. 43 - Porter Airlines

I consider myself very lucky to live near enough to an airport, located directly beneath one of the main departure paths, that I can regularly see airplanes flying overhead on their way off to wherever. Depending on the plane, they can pass over my house as low as 3,000 feet! ...which is still way too high for my phone's camera! So while I can see the plane decently, even make out details of the livery, what my camera sees is...this.

Okay, so my planespotting hobby mostly consists of literally spotting them (I am very good at this part! It's the photography that I struggle with!) because I'm unable to shell out for a telephoto lens, but thanks to the magic of flight tracking software I'm able to identify the exact airplane that this is, rather than being forced to base my review off this crunchy "photograph".

So, I'd like to introduce you all to our subject for today, C-GLQR! And, by extension, Porter Airlines - requested by @fungaloids, plus an anon.

First flown in February of 2009 and delivered in December of the same year, C-GLQR has served her entire fourteen-year career with Porter Airlines. She's actually only slightly younger than the airline itself. Porter was founded in 2006, featuring executives who formerly served in similarly high positions in Canadian regional airlines Air Ontario and Canada 3000, American Airlines, and...apparently the former US ambassador to Canada for some reason. They're about as large as you can get while still more or less being a regional airline, and they fly a fleet I'd call medium-sized of Embraer E195-E2 jets and an even larger number of Bombardier Dash 8-Q400 turboprop planes, like the pictured C-GLQR, out of their hub in Toronto.

One interesting thing about Porter (inconsistently stylized as lowercase-p porter, but it lacks the clear intent of something like condor so I'm not going as far as to write it that way myself) is said hub. See, when I say Toronto, you probably think of the worst airport in the entire world, Toronto Lester B. Pearson International Airport. Thankfully for Porter's customers they do not have to go to the labyrinth of human misery which is Toronto Pearson, and are instead corralled into Billy Bishop Toronto City Airport, colloquially known as Toronto Island Airport, potentially because it's changed its name twice and the local population got sick of remembering what it's calling itself now.

image: DXR

The 'island' designator is quite literal. This is a teeny tiny airport, just barely large enough to land the Q400 and definitely too small to land jets. The fact that Porter flies to Chicago-Midway, Washington-Dulles, and Boston-Logan is a testament to the Q400's absolutely wild range rather than an indication that this tiny scrap of land is in any meaningful way an international airport. It has two runways and both are shorter than the ones at the smallest airport I've ever flown into that had an actual terminal, Vieques. I'm surprised they can operate a Q400 there. In fact, they can't - they had to pick a seat configuration smaller than the standard in order to be able to use the runways at Billy Bishop. (Incidentally, this means their seats have a more generous pitch, so I suppose that's a point for them.)

So why would they want to put the biggest passenger turboprop in service in the West onto this tiny airstrip? Well, Porter's...reason for existing, so it seems, is to force the Toronto Port Authority to expand the airport and build a bridge to the mainland despite the fact that nobody who lives in the area wants this. Hilariously, they have been entirely unsuccessful in this venture and now operate a second hub in Pearson. That's where they put the jets - after all, if you tried to land an E195-E2 at Toronto Island you would have a very wet plane and some very mad passengers on your hands very quickly.

I mean, to be fair, getting to not go to Pearson is a selling point.

I don't have any other place to put this but they have an adorable raccoon mascot named Mr. Porter. I'm not sure why a raccoon, but I like him. He doesn't appear on the livery at all - heaven forbid we do something interesting - but he's there and he's cute. I do have to point out, though, that this is one of the worst names for SEO I've seen in a while, given Mr. Porter is the name of the men's department of extremely popular luxury fashion outlet shop Net-a-Porter.

I think raccoons could be a pretty nice source of inspiration for a livery, what with their colorblocking and stripes. You could even make the planes' engine cowlings look like weirdly human little hands. I would hate that, but I would respect it! Instead Porter has taken the approach of making the plane mostly white. Revolutionary for sure.

I'll begin with the good and say that I really like this grey underside with its little outlines - I think this is an absolutely brilliant design for the Dash 8. Unlike the ATR series, which I've talked about a fair few times before on this blog, the Q400 is about as angular as a plane can get. I've never touched on that shape before, but I've discussed how carriers, though I'm sure it's by accident and they never consider this, work with the shape of the ATR to good effect. The curvaceousness of the ventral fairing on the ATR is complemented by long swoops like the ones used by Azul, IndiGo, and Air Astra. The Q400, in contrast, stores its landing gear in the engine cowlings, allowing for a very flat belly and uninterrupted fuselage that looks best with sharp long lines and blocky geometric shapes. If this livery had any other details, this would be such a nice touch - they even hammer the point in with the same design on the bottom of the cowlings.

Unfortunately, it's so light-colored that it's difficult to notice. You could mistake it for shadows settling on natural grooves in the airframe if you didn't know what the bottom of a Q400 is supposed to look like, and it isn't as if you can see it when the plane is parked.

You may well not see the wordmark, either. While the sans-serif font chosen is almost gratingly boring it is at least not hideous, but it's located in such an out-of-the-way location it almost feels like they're ashamed of it. It's so needlessly far back and low-sitting that the wing blocks it from half the possible angles, and it's not like it's accentuated in any way. You could so easily miss it. This wordmark is honestly Lufthansa-tier.

Another thing I don't like is the use of the tail. It's blocked out very Detached Tail Syndrome style, refusing to engage with the large block leading from it to the fuselage. I would understand, though not approve, if this was because they didn't want to redesign the balance of the tail when applying the livery to a new style of plane, but the Q400 is what they started with! The livery was designed for this plane and it seems to want you to just not notice this significant chunk of fuselage! It makes the whole airframe look so desolate and empty. The kindest thing I can say for it is that it looks lazy, but really it looks more unfinished. I just struggle to understand why these choices were made, in all honesty. Surely this isn't the best you can do.

Right, right, okay. There's something I've been dancing around on purpose and I think it's obvious what it is. I just wanted to get in an entire review first because there's sort of no going back once I've mentioned it. Everything I said before, while very important, is subordinate to this one...utterly perplexing choice which turns failure to infamy.

PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER PORTER

Grade: Z-

[cosette141]

How to Write and Create for Yourself When You Make Writing Your Career

I made a post about why it’s important to write and create for yourself first, rather than do it for external validation or pleasing other people. And on that post, I received this wonderful question from @hotherus-the-blind :

This is a question I just asked myself not too long ago, so you are definitely not the only one wondering.

It isn’t easy. I’ll start with that. It's one thing to write fanfiction or hobby-work (and even that has the pressure of wanting people to like your work). But the pressure of a writing career only makes writing for yourself first harder, and seemingly impossible.

But the short answer to your question is simply this:

All successful professional writers do write for themselves first, because you can’t be successful if you don’t write and create for yourself first.

(And we are glad it works this way!)

Believe me—I have a decade of failure and rejection from trying to write for others first to prove it.

Why You Still Have to Write for Yourself First, Even for a Writing Career

10 years ago I decided that I wanted to write TV shows and publish novels for a living. An ambition I still have.

Prior to that decision, I used to write only for myself. I wrote stories since I was a little kid, and only cared about what I found interesting. And when I write fanfiction, I feel much more comfortable writing for myself first.

But for the past 10 years, I took writing classes and screenwriting workshops and spent that decade trying to learn how to write stuff people would want to watch and read, stuff that would get me hired (which, potato, po-tah-to, right?). What other people would be interested in reading was my only focus. I just wanted to be successful at this; I no longer even remembered that I chose this career because I love to write.

But despite the fact that not writing for yourself first is unenjoyable and ruins something you love to do...

It also is inevitably unsuccessful.

These past 10 years, I came up with concepts that I believed were interesting, based off of what I learned in classes, thinking things like “they did this in Breaking Bad and people love that so I should try it!” or “these two ideas are such opposites; it would be so interesting if I put them together!”

But the problem was that I wasn’t interested.

And that was the important piece of the puzzle I had been missing.

I was writing things I thought were cool or unique or trending. As I was writing, my only thought was of the person who would be reading it; what they would think. But even as I came up with those ideas… they never made it past the idea.

Because I was so uninterested, I didn’t even want to write them. But even when I forced myself to write them, they were cold and boring and uninteresting. And when I shared them with my teachers and friends, they said the same thing; it was impersonal, boring, unemotional. There was no heart and soul. One of my teachers asked me why I was writing that story, and I answered, "Because I think it can be good."

And then he kindly told me: “The stories you write should be ones you feel the need to tell, that you have this desire to write. Stories where you are the only person in the world who can tell that story, because of the way you tell it and the emotion it comes from. That is the connection we’ll feel when we read it.”

My teachers' philosophy, as successful professional writers in the business, is that writing strong compelling stories that other people will be interested in is only as strong as your own interest in what you are writing. (A concept I kept straying from, since I was so terrified and focused on other peoples’ impressions of my work.)

One of my writing teachers is Corey Mandell, who teaches this workshop called Creative Integration. In this workshop, they teach that the trifecta of writing is a harmony of these three things:

1. What other people are interested in

2. What the characters naturally would do in the given situation

3. What you, the writer, care about and find interesting

(here's a video of him talking about this stuff)

When you have all three components fulfilled, you are writing your BEST work, and your most SUCCESSFUL work.

If you are missing any of the three, your story will be lacking.

That includes, especially, your own interest in what you're writing.

And I would even argue that if you had to only pick one, the most important one is the 3rd---what you're interested in. Something filled with your emotion. Because I can think of so many stories that I felt the passion in, even if the plot wasn't all that great. I forgive and still read a story with a bad plot if the emotion is great. I don't often forgive an emotionless story just to see a cool plot.

Additionally, my teacher always tell us this in classes, and I remind myself of every single day now:

“Writing is an energy-transference business. What you felt when you wrote that story is what the reader will feel when they read it. If you felt nothing, they’ll feel nothing.”

Your interest in the story is directly related to your success. You need to feel something if you want other people to feel something.

And this, my friend, is exactly why you need to write for yourself first in order to be successful in a writing career.

Here's some proof of uber successful writers who wrote for themselves first:

If you go to any author or screenwriter or artist who wrote or made something you love, and you ask them, “What compelled you to write this?” You won’t get an answer of: “I thought it’d be cool and people would like it.” Or, “I thought it would sell and be successful.”

99% of the time, it was inspired by something personal to them; it was a story they had to tell.

Take the TV show Psych for example. Psych is a show about a guy who grew up with a detective father who groomed him to be a detective for his entire childhood. But his father sucked as a dad. Due to that bad relationship, instead of becoming a detective like he was trained to be, Shawn pretends to be a psychic to solve crimes rather than do what his father wanted him to do (become a proper detective). The show is a comedy of antics and hilarity, but the underlying story is that of a healing relationship between father and son.

Check out the actual inspiration behind Psych:

(x)

Is this show a biography? Not at all. Putting your soul into your work doesn’t mean it has to be your literal life. But Steve Franks put his pain into that show, his heart and his soul. It was a story no one else in the world could tell, because the main character of that show was a reflection of him. He didn’t just set out to write a detective show with a funny main character; he wrote a show about a broken relationship between father and son, and told it through a show about crime solving. That’s what makes it a show only he could write.

That’s why we watch Psych. Not for the crimes. For the emotion that Steve Franks poured into it.

How about the inspiration behind Breaking Bad?

Percy Jackson?

Game of Thrones? (A Song of Ice and Fire) (by author George R. R. Martin, quote from him below):

(x)

That last sentence is really amazing: "I realized I really want to tell that story."

That is what we should strive to say about all of our own stories.

Try this with any book or tv show or movie you love. You'll find a personal inspiration behind it to prove that those writers were successful writing a story that they felt personally compelled to write.

Here's my favorite quote on the subject that I keep over my desk:

How to Write for Yourself First

Writing for yourself first means that if you write something, and no one in the entire world could ever see, watch or read it, ever, you still feel that it was worth writing. It made you feel good to write. It was something you wanted and needed to write.

There's a quote from an episode of the TV show Leverage where a character tells another character (Eliot Spencer), "You fight like something is trying to get out of you." I think about that quote in terms of my own writing: let's write like something is trying to get out of us.

I spent the past 10 years telling myself, “I just want to write a story that works.” I never used to write that way before. I used to go, “Oooooh, what a cool idea! I want to see what will happen!” And just sit down and write. Or, I’d be angry or upset or afraid and I’d write out of that emotion, and something unique and wonderful would come out and I would be able to cope and pour all the emotions into it. I learned that I write and create to feel better. And realizing that changed everything for me. Because for me, if it doesn’t make me feel better, it isn’t writing.

Why did you used to write, before you decided on this career?

Why did you decide on this career?

What compels you to write? What would make you happy to write? What would make you smile? Laugh? Cry? Cope? Feel better? Deal with your anger? Live vicariously through a character in a fantasy world you’d rather live in? What do you want to write?

Sit down, open a new document or blank page, and ask yourself: if you were to show no one what you write right now, what would you write for yourself? For your own eyes? You aren’t allowed to share this with anyone else, so what would you like to write? It doesn’t have to be incredible, it doesn’t have to impress anyone. It can be silly or stupid or embarrassing or offensive or heartbreaking—anything. It’s just for you to enjoy the process of writing it. Are you upset about something? Are you angry? Think about a crush you have; write a scene of a fantasy date they take you on. Write about a character with superpowers you’d like to have, or someone going on an adventure you’d like to go on—anything your heart desires.

What would make you, and only you, happy to write about?

What would make you feel anything to write about?

If you want to be a writer professionally, I assume it’s because you enjoy writing enough to want it to be a career. Which means that at some point in your life, you were writing before you were thinking about money or other peoples’ feedback.

Try to think back to when you were writing as a kid. Why did you write? What compelled you to write? What did you want to feel or accomplish when you wrote? (I also used this uquiz to help rediscover why I write).

I may not be able to guarantee that people will love what you write (though if you’re interested, it’s highly likely other people will be too!)

But I can guarantee that if you are not interested, if your heart is not in it, then no one else will be interested in it, either.

I spent 10 full years trying to write in a way that would interest other people, putting my interest aside completely. And I have nothing but rejections to show for it.

Am I professional writer with oodles of success right now?

No.

But I can tell you one thing: after 10 years of writing for other people first and making myself miserable, I've learned that writing for others first doesn't work. I tried damn hard to make it work, and still failed. But the most important part?

I don’t even want to be successful that way.

I had to start fresh and start writing from a place of emotion, pain, love, need again. And finally there are stories emerging that I actually care about again. Because I realized that I would never be successful unless I do this. But more importantly…

I will never be happy as a writer (or a person) unless I do this.

Personally, I would much rather write something where my emotions bled onto the page and get it rejected than write a boring draft for others that makes a million dollars.

The bottom line is you can’t capture someone else’s heart with your story until your own heart is somewhere inside it, leading the way.

Yes, it is important to interest other people with your stories if you aim to be a successful professional writer.

But only after you write for yourself, first.

[builder051]

Steve from Whoa Bessie ‘verse? I love that one!

(This is grown-up working professional Steve, just to ground us in space and time.)

A therapist seeking therapy, what a rarity (lol). Something new and scary must be quite wrong and negatively affecting your life. Or, alternatively, something has been negatively affecting your life for a long time, and you’ve researched and trial-and-errored and just now realized you need a different perspective. Steve would be polite and acting calmly. He might hate me and think I’m useless, but his face would never betray it.

I’d probably present him a basic worksheet out of CBT and one of my own invention: the life wheel (rate your feeling of success in several areas of life against each other) and an action/reaction Dichotomous key (write down a frustrating situation, then put down possible successful/unsuccessful responses and how the situation would evolve if they actually happened—this one is great for neurodivergent people, neurotypical folks sometimes need to pull back to basics, too.) I’d let Steve talk and explain as long as needed without cutting him off or making suggestions. I wouldn’t not want to make the relationship adversarial, especially since therapist-therapist can easily turn into ‘I know more than you.’

Mentally, though, I’d have some pretty wild ideas, which I do not think Steve would like. He’d benefit from a career change. Or at least a long vacation. He’s so used to helping and comforting that his personal life has become his work life (as opposed to his personal life becoming his work life several years ago when James showed back up). He needs a shake-up, and who knows, James might benefit from one too. Also, this bit is uncharitable, but necessary for me to have in mind. Steve used to be an insecure kid and a depressed teen, and he covered with artificial confidence and bravado. He’s done such a good job that he’s gone too far. He doesn’t have to only take care of James; he needs to remember how to relate to him.

[scotianostra]

On 14th January 2016, the Scottish screenwriter, television producer and journalisRobert Banks Stewart died.

Many Doctor Who fans will remember Robert fondly as the creator of the Zygons.

Edinburgh-born Robert Stewart left school at age fifteen and parlayed his skill into a series of newspaper jobs. His career was interrupted by his National Service, during which he was part of Field Marshal Montgomery's staff. Stewart also began writing plays, and worked for the BBC as a radio commentator for Scottish football matches. He finally left the newspaper industry to serve as a foreign correspondent for Illustrated magazine, prompting a move to London. Stewart was twice married and twice divorced; his first wife bore a daughter, while he had three sons with his second wife, Helen.

When his job with Illustrated came to an end in the late Fifties, Stewart joined the Rank Organisation, initially as a story editor on Interpol Calling. He was soon providing scripts for the programme as well, and he began writing prolifically on shows like Danger Man, Ghost Squad and The Saint, as well as several editions of The Edgar Wallace Mystery Theatre. Stewart's first commission for the BBC came on a 1962 episode of Dr Finlay's Casebook. It was at this stage that he adopted “Robert Banks Stewart” as his professional name, in order to distinguish him from similarly-named writers; Banks was his mother's maiden name. He was also approached to develop ideas for Doctor Who during its formative stages in 1963, though nothing came of this.

The latter part of the Sixties saw Stewart write for everything from The Avengers to Adam Adamant Lives! to Callan. He was a script editor on��Armchair Theatre, and earned his first credit as a producer on Intrigue. At the end of the decade, he travelled to Australia to produce and write for Riptide, until issues with the local labour unions prompted him to return to the UK.

In the early Seventies, Stewart wrote for shows like Jason King, Arthur Of The Britons, The Legend Of Robin Hood and Sutherland's Law, while script editing Harriet's Back In Town and Van Der Valk. In the middle of the decade, he developed three serials for Doctor Who, all featuring Tom Baker's Fourth Doctor. Stewart invented the Zygons for  Terror Of The Zygons- set in his native Scotland -- and then the Krynoids for The Seeds Of Doom. He had written most of the storyline for “The Foe From The Future” when Thames Television hired him to script edit Rooms and Armchair Thriller

The producer of Doctor Who during Stewart's time on the show was Philip Hinchcliffe, who subsequently moved to Target. When Hinchcliffe was preparing to leave the police drama, he suggested that Stewart take over, only for Target to be cancelled altogether. Instead, Stewart created two very popular series in a similar vein: first Shoestring, starring Trevor Eve, and then Bergerac with John Nettles. After an unhappy spell in the mid-Eighties as the executive producer of drama for London Weekend Television, Stewart returned to the BBC to produce Lovejoy and develop Call Me Mister. He rounded off the decade as the producer of Hannay and Storyboard.

The Nineties began with Stewart producing another hit, as he helped to launch Catherine Zeta-Jones' career with The Darling Buds Of May. He went on to produce another of his own creations, Moon And Son, before working on McCallum for Philip Hinchcliffe, who was now the Controller of Drama for Scottish Television. Stewart's final scriptwriting credit was for My Uncle Silas at the start of the new millennium. Although he was keen to continue working in television, Stewart was frustrated to find his age a barrier in securing work. Instead, he adapted an unsuccessful television pitch into a novel: The Hurricane's Tail was released by Kaleidoscope Publishing in 2012. Stewart followed it with his 2015 autobiography, To Put You In The Picture, from Miwk Publishing.

Robert Banks Stewart succumbed to cancer just three months later, on this day in 2016 hw was 84.

[bopsweneverforgot]

“Tamar” - The Good, the Bad, and the Ridiculous

Many fans think Tamar started her music career as a break-out reality star from “Braxton Family Values” with her 2013 album “Love and War”. A select few Tamartians know there was a body of work before all of that. “Tamar” or some may remember it as “Ridiculous”.

Let’s take a deep dive, shall we?

Any Braxton Family Values fan knows the story of how Toni Braxton was picked out by Babyface and L.A. Reid from the original quintet group “The Braxtons” and left to start her solo career. Nevertheless, Toni Braxton always promised her sisters she’ll come back for them. Indeed, she did with a record deal for the remaining 4 sisters; Trina, Towanda, Traci, and Tamar. Unfortunately, Traci was pregnant at the time of signing and planned to return to the group after her pregnancy.

Then, there were 3. In 1996, Traci, Towanda, and Tamar turned into a trio and released their debut album, “So Many Ways”.  Beautiful yet underrated tracks like “Take Home to Momma” and “Girl on the Side” (based on a true story of how Tamar unknowingly became a side chick) graced the album but did not see the commercial success of a Destiny’s Child or even a Brownstone. However, from Tamar’s lead vocals she showcased in this new trio, she began working with Tricky Stewart and Red Zone Entertainment on an EP in hopes of being noticed by a record label. This led to the future disbandment of The Braxtons and the beginning of Tamar’s solo career with a record deal with DreamWorks. Deja vu?

Now, in the beginning, there was “Ridiculous”, the original titled debut album, and she broke out to the music scene with, some critics will call her “The Parkers” -esque single, “Get None”, released in 1999 produced by Jermaine Dupri, and background vocals sung by Mya. it was an empowering anthem telling men,  “stop trying to use cash to get you some ass because you ain’t gon get none”. No reason why this should not have been a chart-topping success? Yet it was not. Peaking at #59 on R&B Billboard Charts, it failed to catch the attention of radio stations nationwide, and Dreamworks panicked. 

The now-defunct label, Dreamworks, changed the tone of this project and leaned into the sound Tamar’s big sister, Toni Braxton, was known for - the big, R&B ballad. Now, in the new millennium of 2000, Tamar’s new self-titled album “Tamar” led with a Toni Braxton-like follow-up single,  “If You Don’t Wanna Love Me” giving very much Fantasia’s mantra “if you don’t want me, then don’t talk to me”. Shoutout to Latocha Scott from Xscape for co-writing this masterpiece! The single peaked at #89 on R&B’s Billboard Charts and the album was released in the following months charting at #127 on the Billboard 200.

Now, let’s dive into some background with this album. Many people assume Vincent Hubert was her 1st husband. Indeed, he was not. Co-writer of tracks of the "Tamar" album, “Money Can’t Buy You Love” and “Once Again”, Darrell “Delite” Allamby was married to Tamar Braxton briefly between 2000-2003. Despite Darrell being a writer of one of my favorite artists’ hit single “Whatcha Gon Do '' by Link (he’s getting a deep dive, too, so stay tuned), Tamar has claimed severe abuse allegations in that marriage and has publicly shied away from this topic numerous times. Additionally, Tamar has come forward multiple times on how she really wasn’t ready for fame and simply thought she was going to be an 18-year-old Mariah Carey, and simply was not there yet.

Now, with all that being said. I completely understand why Tamar acts as if this album never exists. If my abusive ex-husband was associated with my commercially unsuccessful debut album, I would ignore it as well. However, as artists tend to forget, songs are art. People from all over the world connect to this album and wish she’ll shed some light on some of these gems.

Personally, I learned of this album’s existence in Season 1 of the Braxton Family Values in 2011. At the tender age of 11, I came across “If You Don’t Wanna Love Me” and thought it was a nice song, but it didn’t stick to me like Toni’s records. 10 years passed, and now 21, I went through a situationship break-up and only the REAL know situationship break-ups hurt more than the real ones. Anyway, after I played “Where’s the Good in Goodbye” by the Braxtons to death. I found myself on Tamar’s track, “I’m Over You”, and I played it until I really meant just that. I’m over him. Then, after that situationship, I upgraded to a relationship and played “Miss Your Kiss” by Tamar for the whole 9 months. Then, as I re-evaluated some things in the relationship, I noticed that man was financially irresponsible and incapable of understanding the basic components of chivalry. I blasted “Money Can’t Buy You Love” and “You Don’t Know” to classes senior year. When I finally got the guts to finally break up with him, I played “Get Mine” and knew I would be okay.

In summary, Tamar’s album helped me get through every stage of love in one album. From the beginning to the end. Tamar’s sophomore album was the polar opposite in terms of commercial success. Tamar has mentioned how she was mentally and spiritually ready to receive fame and accolades with the second album. However, I’d love to see Tamar embrace “Tamar” more. A good album doesn't merit success only on Billboard chart positions or award nominations. It’s based on the stories it tells and the people like me who got through tough times with that album. I think the sooner Tamar can accept her personal good and bad memories associated with this album, the sooner fans can see her perform and acknowledge this well-produced and well-written body of work, “Tamar”.

[heca-tia]

PORTRAIT Summary/Notes

I'm gonna start writing summaries of stories I read for my own benefit. There's a lot of stories, and I have a tendency to forget details.

Akiomi is having an interview for the first time in a while about his idol career and modeling. He talks about how no one would probably remember him as an idol because he was unsuccessful, but he was a pretty popular model. He talks about "the incident at the department store that made him have to take a break from modeling."

This takes place 14 years before the establishment of ES. Akiomi is in middle school, so I'm guessing he's around 14 here. Izumi is 5-- MAYBE 6. Arashi and Makoto would be 4-5.

Akiomi arrives at a photoshoot early, announces himself as the "Shining Prince of the industry," and baby Izumi calls him a loser. Makoto is in the middle of a shoot, and Izumi snuck out of his house to go watch Makoto and spend time with him. He notes that Makoto is reaching his limits, and tells Akiomi to get him some water and a place to relax once he's done. He offers them the place he usually goes to relax away from everyone. Despite Izumi acting like an angry brat, Makoto notes that he looks kind of happy today.

Arashi has been following Akiomi since that morning (she was trying not to be seen, but she's not very good at it) and she says it's because Akiomi is her enemy and she's observing him so she can take everything away from him. Once she's done with him, she'll take down Makoto next. After the shoot, Izumi's parents barged in and forcibly dragged him home with them.

Akiomi runs into Makoto all alone on the street, and says he's "here to see brother." Akiomi brings him into his modeling office where Izumi is there and throwing a fit. Izumi's parents got in a fight with his manager at Izumi's modeling agency, so he got kicked out and moved to the same agency as Akiomi and Arashi because their company promises to take anyone and turn them into a successful model. Also Izumi's parents immediately started spreading rumors about his old agency.

Izumi is freaking out because he's going to be separated from Makoto, and says that Makoto can't do anything without him. He gave Makoto the address to his new agency in case he ever needed anything, and they could see each other whenever. Eventually, (after Arashi slaps him) Izumi calms down and falls asleep with Makoto. Akiomi and Arashi are being a bit loud and bickering (Arashi let's slip that she admires him), and Izumi thinks its annoying that they're being so loud when people are sleeping, but thinks they're all like a family and wishes he had a family like this.

Arashi and Izumi are said to be similar. They're both rude, bratty, and violent. People don't seem to like working with Izumi because his parents are terrible and "problematic to work with." Arashi mentions that she has a "normal family," but none of them are interested in each other.

Notably, Makoto seems a lot less well spoken and childlike compared to Arashi and Izumi. Akiomi says that he probably uses phrases he's told to say around people and just uses them without thinking. Arashi mentioned his parents were terrible as well.

Akiomi and Makoto both get cast in a movie, and are on the film set at a department store. Makoto was forced to act in the movie even though he doesn't want to, and is disappointed he doesn't even get to see Izumi. Originally Makoto wasn't even supposed to be in the movie, but they changed the script so he could be in it to advertise the new "prodigy" of the modeling industry.

Makoto's dad is dead and his mom is sick, so he has to work hard and earn money for him and his mom. Again, he is like 4 years old here. Izumi bursts in and both he and Makoto are happy to see each other, despite Izumi's parents warning him to keep away from Makoto, and the industry warning Makoto to stay away from Izumi.

Akiomi doesn't want to separate them, even though he knows he'll probably get scolded, which he does. He asked for a role in the movie so he could be close to Makoto and let Izumi accompany him so they could be together. Akiomi gets in trouble with the director of his company for taking on a menial task from with their rival company when he has plenty of other work to do, and makes up the excuse that he wants to become and idol in the future, and wants to gain more experience in other areas. He notes that, although he answered impulsively, he does want to be an idol in the future, and that he's getting less modeling jobs as he gets older. He wants to become someone like Jin Sagami who is needed and loved by everyone.

Arashi sneaks up on Akiomi while he's walking home. She startles him, and he scolds her for being out so late. Arashi is jealous that Akiomi isn't "just hers" anymore, and that he's changed after meeting Makoto and Izumi. After sending Arashi home, he finds out that Makoto and Izumi are missing and runs back to the movie shoot to find Makoto still there. Akiomi feels bad for leaving them to do his other work despite taking the role of their guardian, but figured they would be find since he left them with someone from Makoto's and Izumi's old agency. Makoto says that Izumi isn't friendly with anyone but him, and Izumi got in a fight with the staff member and left to "go on an adventure."

Akiomi finds Izumi in the other room putting on lipstick and being upset that he can't get prettier like his mom is, even though he's copying her. He says he's not going home, and he's going to live there with Makoto. Izumi says his parents are the worst, and they're always talking bad about Makoto. When Izumi told them to stop, his dad got angry and his mom started crying. He notes that they were probably surprised he talked back, because he's always so well behaved.

Izumi wants to stop doing only what his parents tell him to do, and do what he wants to do: stay with Makoto. Makoto is the first thing he's ever wanted for himself that wasn't given to him by his parents. They need each other. Akiomi notes that being able to have Makoto was probably the first time Izumi has felt any kind of freedom.

Izumi started modeling because his parents told him too. They wanted everyone to see how pretty he was and to love him. He didn't like it because unlike his parents, the people he worked with were always angry. Makoto was the only one who was nice to him. They started talking more, and Izumi would teach him things as his senior, and Izumi would do things to make him happy. Izumi says that since his parents keep getting in the way of him and Makoto he doesn't need them anymore and he's getting rid of them. (Not in the murder way.) Izumi says Akiomi can live in the department store with them, because he's more useful and kinder than the other adults.

Akiomi knows that pulling the kids out of their fantasy world would be the "right" thing to do, but for now he just suggests he and Izumi go back to Makoto in the other room. They run into some dude in a mascot outfit on the way there.

Makoto is waiting in the other room, because Izumi told him to. He wonders if his mom is awake and misses him, and says she makes good meals. He's hungry in lonely, but he has to endure it so he'll be a good boy.

Arashi shows up and tells Makoto to stop dragging Akiomi into their mess. Akiomi is supposed to be hers alone, and she worked hard and did "a lot of awful stuff" to be able to catch up with him. She won't let anyone get in her why until she can stand by his side. Makoto says she must have been enduring a lot of stuff she doesn't like, just like he has. When he was little(r), his dad told him to endure everything so he could help his mom.

After some bickering, Arashi properly introduces herself, and Makoto calls her "Narunaru onii-chan" which is cute ngl. I think Makoto is actually few months older than her.

Makoto here's some weird noises, and Arashi gets a bit freaked out because she hates ghosts and things that can't be explained. Makoto thinks it's coming from Izumi.

Meanwhile, Akiomi is running away from the person in the mascot suit with Izumi thrown over his shoulder. It's throwing sharp things at them, and chasing them. Akiomi wonders if he'd have an easier life if he didn't get involved with these kids and ignored them, but then he would be just like the the adults he looks down on. Arashi calls Akiomi on his phone, but he's trying to get away from the mascot, so Izumi answers it instead. Akiomi is about to run down the stairs with Izumi, but Izumi remind him to go back for Makoto. Akiomi promises to get them all home safely, but Izumi says that home isn't always safe and comfortable. Right now, he does want to be help by his mama and papa a lot, though.

Arashi calls out to him, and he's surprised since he sent her home hours ago. She says that he "always switches between an adult and child depending on what's convenient." Izumi explained everything to her on the phone, and to save the lecture, they need to deal with the person in the costume. She already called the cops, so they have to buy time until they arrive. Arashi told Makoto to hide in a dresser.

Izumi, Arashi, and Akiomi are hiding (and bickering) and the mascot moves away from them and towards the dresser where Makoto is hiding. Izumi starts struggling to go help Makoto, but Akiomi holds him back and says he'll do it instead. Izumi argues, but Akiomi finally puts his foot down and tells them both to stay where they are. Kids can't win against adults, and even though he's still a kid too, he's the only one big enough to stand up to the mascot.

Arashi asks if there's anything she can do, because she wants to be useful to him. She wants to be praised and loved by him.

Back to the present interview: Akiomi does end up taking the person down from behind, and the kids get picked up by the cops and sent home to their parents. Izumi's parents were too overwhelmed to be angry, and held onto him and cried. Arashi's family, who were usually indifferent, all came to pick her up, and apologized for neglecting her. They seemed to be slowly having a chance of heart. Makoto's mom fainted from reliefe the moment she got him in her arms. Akiomi's parents were the calmest, and worried about him normally.

To this day, they don't know the motive behind the person who broke into the store, and tied up the security guard. As a result of the aftermath, the security of the department store and both modeling agencies got backlash from the public, and the movie got canned.

Akiomi got blamed for "endangering the kids," so his relationship with his agency got strained. He got less modeling jobs after that, and started focusing on his highschool entrance exams to enroll in Yumenosaki to follow Jin Sagami's footsteps and be an idol. With everything happening, he became more distant with the kids, and his involvement with them was only for a brief moment.

Akiomi goes over what they're all doing now, and how Makoto was basically forced to be a model because his father was. He wants to do something for them now. Not as a senior, but as their teacher who can guide them.

Makoto comes into the room looking for Akiomi who wanted to talk to him. They talk, and apparently Makoto's dad isn't dead, he just went to prison from "stress from childcare," but just got released recently. Makoto says he's from a single parent family to maintain decency. He hasn't even told Trickstar. He hasn't been in contact with his dad since he got out of prison, and he took his mother's last name. Makoto doesn't wish him any ill will and hopes he's living happily. Akiomi says he's sure Makoto's dad wishes the same from him.

Oh my god, the interviewer is Makoto's dad. Oh my god, the guy in the mascot costume was also Makoto's dad. Well. He says he's happy to see Makoto happy and healthy, at least.

Makoto's dad believed the slander spread by Izumi's parents about the modeling agency, and wanted to save Makoto. By dressing up in a mascot suit and kidnapping him???? Maybe?????? Akiomi says even though he was convicted because of that "rampage driven by misunderstanding and futility," he couldn't bring himself to blame him.

Makoto's dad was on parole when the incident happened, and because of it he got his sentence extended. The world changed completely while he was in prison, and that's why he came to talk to Akiomi.

Akiomi tells him he doesn't have to disguise himself as a journalist next time, an can just visit like everyone else.

Izumi busts in and accuses Makoto of cheating on him with Akiomi. Makoto says Izumi used to be a lot cooler when they were kids.

Arashi also barges in and says she saw Akiomi in the room with a beautiful guy and thought she was being cheated on. Why is everyone in Knights like this?

Anyway. Akiomi tells them to go out and work hard and show off everything they've gained. They're idols now, and they're born to be loved.

[thefourhorsemenoftheapocolypse]

Part Two: The Come Up

Part 1

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Cade Manning (singer songwriter): "I began to write songs when I was 11 or 12. I spent most of my middle school years writing and making music. I didn't really bother with making friends or anything. Music was the only thing that I cared about. During those years of my life I was always writing songs, recording them, and editing so I could post them onto Soundcloud and whatnot. When Musically was a thing I posted there too, so I could build my platform. Doing all of that really took up my time , so there wasn't ever really time for me to do normal preteen things like hanging out or whatever. I was focused on building towards my career."

Anne Manning (Cade's mother): "I was, not worried per say, but concerned with the lack of friends Cade had when he was younger. I mean don;t get me wrong, I loved that he was dedicated to working towards his dream, but I didn't think that not interacting with kids his age was a good thing. John and I did try to help him but were unsuccessful."

Cade Manning (singer songwriter): "I wouldn't say I had no friends. There was a guy I grew up with. Tommy Wade. I would say he was, is, my best friend. Our moms were, still are, childhood best friends. Tommy's mom had him a few weeks before my mom had me so I think they had hopes of us becoming like the 'next generation' of them. They were right. Many memories of my childhood include him. Like the time we were on the swing set at his cousin's house and I thought it would be a great idea to jump off while I was high in the air and ended up scratching up my knee pretty bad. Blood was oozing down my leg and I remember Tommy screaming and almost passing out. But yeah, he and I have been great friends since were babies. Even through those middle school days where I was grinding pretty much day and night building and expanding my music. Tommy helped me through all of it. He became my first real fan. From the very beginning he was always hyping me up and helping me. He helped me develop my style and genre and was always there for me whenever I was stuck or hating the way a song was coming out. He helped me get my music out there, posting songs that I had recorded or was in the midst of making. He showed his other friends my music and they all fell in love with it, asking him when I'd make more. I honestly feel like none of this would have happened had we not become close. So, thank you Tommy. For everything."

Tommy Wade (Cade's childhood friend): "Yeah, Cade was always into music. Always banging on anything that made noise, he was. Our childhood was fairly normal. We were always at his place or mine. It depended on whose parents were working. We had sleepovers almost every weekend. Family events, birthday parties, my grandpa's funeral, he was there. Every important milestone he witnessed. And vice versa. When we hit middle school that's when Cade really doubled down on making it into the industry. I thought it was a bit weird that someone my age already knew what they wanted to be. But at the same time I knew that Cade had made up his mind long before we reached middle school. I fully supported his dream. I wanted to see him make it. Whenever he recorded new music I was always the first one that got to hear it. I loved everything he made. I remember the long nights of posting his new songs everywhere. Soundcloud, Musically, Snapchat, Instagram, anywhere really. In school I would show my other friends his stuff and they loved it. They always asked me when he would make something new, and I always felt a rush of pride in me when they would rave about his new song or beat. Watching Cade's music spread around to people outside of school was surreal. Then it spread out to other counties and eventually our of state. As social media became more popular, more people would post themselves singing along to his music or dancing. It felt good watching Cade get more popular. And I was there from the beginning."

*******************************************

Anne Manning (Cade's mother): "I remember the day very vividly. September 19, 2021. I'm the kitchen, going through the mail, when I get a call from an unknown number. I answer it because I have this feeling that I should. A man's voice comes through the speaker. He asks me, 'Is this Cade Manning?'. I'd told him it wasn't, that I was his mother, and in my head I'm wondering, 'what does this man want with my son?'. He explained to me that he was a music producer with a record label and that he wanted to talk to Cade because he had come across him on Musically or some app like that and was interested in hearing more in person. And I'm like 'Oh my gosh, this is it. This is what he's been waiting for.' I had told him that Cade wasn't home at the time, he was out with his dad, but I would give him Cade's phone number so he could speak with him about it. As soon as we hung up I immediately called John to tell him about it. He was ecstatic. I didn't tell Cade directly about it because I didn't want to spoil the surprise but I did tell him to watch out for a call from an unknown number. He was confused but he listened to me. And from then on, the rest is history."

John Manning (Cade's father): "When Anne called I nearly yelled out loud from shock. Cade and I were out at the grocery store when she called me. As soon as we were done I sped home."

Cade Manning (singer songwriter): "I was very confused when my dad started acting weird. He kept giving me these weird glances. and started speeding, which was unlike him. When we got home my mom was standing in the doorway, with a big smile and bright eyes. It was honestly a bit freaky. She told me that she had gotten a call, didn't tell me who from, and to be on the lookout for a call from a number I didn't know. A few hours later I got a call from a California number and I answered it because my mom had told me to and it was a producer with Pacific Coast Recording Company that was interested in hearing more of my music. He wanted to meet with me to do a studio session. I was stunned. In my head I was freaking out because this is what I had been working towards since I was 11. I said yes, of course. Then two weeks later I was off to LA."

*******************************************

Billy Reign (music producer): "I first met Cade when he was 16 in October 2021. A buddy of mine had a teen son who had been obsessively listening to this artist who had been trending on Tiktok for a little while now. He gave me the name of the artist and some of his stuff, I listened to it and didn't to hear more than 10 seconds of this first song before I knew that I wanted to meet him. I worked with my team to find him so I could get in contact with him. I first got into contact with the mother before she forwarded me towards Cade. I called him and invited him out to LA to do a recording session to see if I wanted to him on the label. He came out, we got to know each other, and within a couple of days I had him walking out of the studio with a contract."

Director: "Why did you decide after only one session with Cade to sign him?"

Billy Reign (music producer): "Great question. I knew I wanted him because there wasn't any artist like him out there. His vocals were so raw and real and you could feel the passion he poured into music. He was so in tune with his emotions that they flowed into his writing which were only made greater when he sang. And he could play almost any instrument you put in front of him. And with him being so young I knew I would be able to help hone him into what he wanted to be."

*******************************************

Cade Manning (singer songwriter): "After Billy and I, professionally, recorded a couple of songs together he handed me a contract and I signed it, with my parents and lawyer present because I was a minor at the time. It was agreed before I left to go back home that we would wait until I was out of school for the summer to record any albums but I still had to write new songs, make beats, and send it all over to Billy so that we had stuff ready to record when I was done."

Tommy Wade (Cade's childhood friend): "I remember Cade telling me that he was going to be gone for about a week a little less than a month after school started because he had to go to LA for something important. It wasn't until he got back when I found out what the important thing was. When he got back from LA, Cade showed me the contract he had signed with Pacific Coast. It was insane. I remember freaking out with him and crying tears of joy. I was really proud of him."

*******************************************

Billy Reign (music producer): "When Cade got out of school for the summer he came back to LA to record his first album with us. Over the course of the school year he had been keeping in contact with me about songs that he had written and wanted to record. Over the nine month period he sent me samples and recordings of him playing the things he written and some of his revised songs he'd written when he was younger. As soon as he'd settled down we were in the studio recording for hours. Honestly I was shocked by how much he was giving us. On the first day alone we were in the studio for at least 10 hours, taking short breaks in between a few songs of course, but even then he didn't look tired at all. By the end of the first week we had recorded about 18 songs. We went through all of them one by one and cutting the ones he didn't like. When we were done with that we had 14 songs left. We edited those and created the album. All in all it took about a month but we had done. We helped him create his first studio album."

Cade Manning (singer songwriter): "It was crazy. Better than anything I had ever imagined. My first real studio album. I titled it TEENAGE DREAMS. A bit on the nose but I thought it fit perfectly. Me and Tommy were posting about it just to get the word and we dropped the album on July 1, 2022. People who had been following me and my music for years were really excited and stuff and when it dropped it was like a tidal wave of love and support. Within the following weeks it was getting more and more streams everywhere. It was even trending on Tiktok. I heard one of the songs from it on the radio for the first time when I was out with Tommy and another friend of mine who were visiting and it was like an out of body experience. It was great. After the album was released my account followings tripled on every platform. The love I was receiving was insane."

John Manning (Cade's father): "When Cade's album was released it was mayhem. Nearly overnight he went from this desperate kid trying to make it to a media sensation. Every radio station was playing his songs and he was riding that high for a while. For good reason. His music was good. Cade was achieving things that I had dreamed about and I was so proud of him. Still am. Anne and I watched as Cade was gaining the fame he deserved and we almost cried. Really. We spent the summer in LA watching Cade rise to stardom at such a young age. He was being recognized on the streets by fans and was signing autographs not too long after the release. It was a true wonder watching him reach his dream."

*******************************************

[wrestlinghistorywithkay]

Golden Girl : When Kelly Kelly Became The People’s Choice To Win The Divas Championship

I grew up when the Divas era was happening in WWE. I can remember when WWE Divas Championship in 2008 with Michelle McCool being the Inaugural Divas Champion. I can remember when the Divas Championship was retired in 2016 with Charlotte Flair being the last Divas Champion. However , I’m going to be writing about the time when Kelly Kelly became the people’s choice to win the Divas Champion.

Kelly Kelly was originally drafted to the Smackdown roster in 2010, making her the first female superstar to be drafted. However , she was moved to RAW in the 2011 Supplemental Draft in April. Therefore after being moved to the Red Brand , she received a massive push and was very popular with the WWE Universe. Kelly was also with WWE ever since she was 19 years old , starting on the rebranded version of ECW. Thus, while she was on RAW , she being a feud with The Bella Twins with Brie Bella being the Divas Champion at the time . At the Over The Limit Pay Per View that took place on May 22, 2011 , Kelly was unsuccessful at trying to become the Divas Champion in a match against Brie. Brie won the match by switching places with her twin sister, Nikki. This was known as ‘ Twin Magic ’.

On the June 20, 2011 episode of Monday Night RAW, Brie Bella was set to defend her Divas Championship against either Kelly Kelly , Eve Torres, or Beth Phoenix. This episode of RAW was called ‘ Power To The People ’. The WWE Universe had the power to vote for matches and who they wanted to see. The fans voted for Kelly Kelly to take on Brie for the Divas Championship. Kelly put up a hard fight and defeated her opponent with a roll up pin to win her first Divas Championship. Her big win would give her the Slammy for Divalicious Moment of The Year. However, she lost the Divas Championship the same year to Beth Phoenix at the Hell In A Cell Pay Per View. Kelly Kelly left WWE in 2012 to continue her modeling career. In 2015 , she was a cast member of the reality show , ‘ WAGS ’. She has made a few WWE appearances in three Women’s Royal Rumble matches , RAW, and Smackdown as a Legend. She also became the first female 24/7 Champion.

Kelly Kelly married Bodybuilder Joe Coba in 2020 and announced she was pregnant in 2023. She a mother to twins Brooklyn and Jaxon.

In April of 2024 , Kelly Kelly went on Chris Van Vliet’s ‘ Insight ’ Podcast. She discussed how her Divas Championship win happened. She said that she went to Vince McMahon to pitch the idea and got his approval. She also said that she was encouraged by the other Divas to do so when she pitched the idea to them. She also is looking at a WWE return because she she wants her twins to watch her in the ring. Kelly says that she wants to create a memory for her children as Michelle McCool did for her daughter at the 2023 Royal Rumble.

My Final Thoughts:

I loved Kelly Kelly and I still do! She is one of my all time favorite Divas. As a kid and watching her win the Divas Championship for the first time, it made me so happy. She has inspired so many young people to be wrestlers . I hope she gets to make a WWE comeback.

Love You All,

- Kay

[nikgannonphotography]

Sydney Street Files: Natural Progression Part 1

Welcome back my fellow street photographers. I’ve lacked inspiration for this blog the last couple of weeks, which has been a regular occurrence while traveling on my creative journey.

The most important to remember is that your timeline is unique, and no two people will ever experience the same levels of motivation and creativity at the same time.

Your personal life, career path, societal pressures (COVID-19 and lockdowns, for example) can all affect your journey and can have a strong impact on whether you decide to go pro in a creative field or only practice art as a medium for expression.

While this is a photography-based blog, the tips below should apply to all creative fields. My goal in this article is to hopefully offer you some reassurance and remind you that nothing is ever concrete. You never know where life will take you so remember to relax, enjoy everything as it comes, and you will work out the steps to becoming a better artist along the way. A lot of mistakes will be made along the way but if you prioritise your enjoyment, you should see success sooner rather than later.

Get used to failure and re-evaluate your goals

You might find yourself at times envying or becoming jealous of creatives who have made it big, have done something you haven’t, or seem to have figured it all out. What most of these creatives will tell you is that they have made the exact same mistakes you have, that it’s not as easy as it looks and that not everyone will get to their level. Social medias a great place to promote your work and to gain recognition, but it can also breed a lot of negative self-thought on what you have made, what you can make and what your limit is.

The worst thing to do is convince yourself that because you aren’t at the level of someone like Peter McKinnon that you’re unsuccessful. Peter has said in his YouTube videos on multiple occasions how many times he changed career path, failed, altered his goals and did things that were uncomfortable for him to get to that level.

When I first started doing professional work, I hated some of the photos I was producing, but as each project was completed, I found myself getting more comfortable, working out the kinks, and finding out what worked for me and what didn’t work for me… and then there would be another setback. Suddenly, I’d have to learn something new again, I worked out the kinks, and then this cycle continued. This happens A LOT.

After lockdown #2 in Sydney, I decided my best way forward was to drop pro-work for the time being and focus on content I actually wanted to produce (which is how this blog came to be as I fall back into the street photography game). I have adjusted my goals and guess what – I am again failing! I haven’t been consistent with how many articles I write and put out and that annoys me, but I understand that it’s a part of the process. I know I will learn new ways of motivating myself to write and will eventually pick up a regular routine, but it’s about putting in the work, accepting my failures, and re-evaluating my creative goals at each point.

Get used to imposter syndrome – it’s inevitable

Every creator has felt it at some point – that anxiety you get when you post an Instagram photo with every tag possible just to get some exposure or posting something and wondering if it’s going to be well received or not, and then being disappointed when you get 5 likes on a photo you think is good.

Don’t let Instagram or other social media platforms define your idea of success. You need to look at each post as a moment in your own creative timeline because your audience will constantly shift. You never know if or when you will get noticed so take every moment as either a moment of success or as a learning opportunity.

It's also important to remember that marketing your products is a game, which I have approached differently at every level. I have learned a lot through failure, and I no longer see it as a personal attack on myself if my work doesn’t reach an audience. Pick yourself up, dust yourself off and continue with what you’re doing because eventually, you’ll find comfort in the process.

Imposter syndrome pits you against yourself and can often be your downfall. Just know that working out what works for you is an uncomfortable process, but inevitably you will find what works best.

[elisaenglish]

And Did Those Feet in Ancient Time

“What is the good of your stars and trees, your sunrise and the wind, if they do not enter into our daily lives? They have never entered into mine, but into yours, we thought—Haven’t we all to struggle against life’s daily greyness, against pettiness, against mechanical cheerfulness, against suspicion? I struggle by remembering my friends; others I have known by remembering some place—some beloved place or tree—we thought you one of these.”

-E.M. Forster, Howard’s End-

There’s a past participle that must not be marginalised in the act of remembering. That emphasis on the current, and ongoing, process of reflection as it pertains to us informs the forecast to come, the wisdom of generations wrought from their pain, ours, and enough light to counteract the frost with fire or an adept vice versa should the need arise—and bedded all in one is all succession.

Art be my cenotaph or, as E.M. Forster writes in Howard’s End, “The house was very quiet, and the fog—we are in November now—pressed against the windows like an excluded ghost.” The almost-presence, ephemeral but all too real, reminiscent of Cathy at Heathcliff’s window or those gothic storms apostrophised, here in blood-beats and temporal lines, flesh, bone, stardust ground and atomised, is gathered as is tender life to heart.

It is the back. It is the now. But it’s never quite what we expect despite our capacity to dream, invent. As Forster continues:

“Actual life is full of false clues and sign-posts that lead nowhere. With infinite effort we nerve ourselves for a crisis that never comes. The most successful career must show a waste of strength that might have removed mountains, and the most unsuccessful is not that of the man who is taken unprepared, but of him who has prepared and is never taken. On a tragedy of that kind our national morality is duly silent. It assumes that preparation against danger is in itself a good, and that men, like nations, are the better for staggering through life fully armed. The tragedy of preparedness has scarcely been handled, save by the Greeks. Life is indeed dangerous, but not in the way morality would have us believe. It is indeed unmanageable, but the essence of it is not a battle. It is unmanageable because it is a romance, and its essence is romantic beauty.”

For a novel published in 1910, we are drawn to its prescience. The circuity that aches from season to season, across epochs and claws its way beneath our ribs, half-buried but no less potent nor diminished. “[S]o wide and so widening is the gulf that stretches between the natural and the philosophic man,” Forster ponders. The “vague aspirations, the mental dishonesty, the familiarity with the outsides of books,” the unholy fucking everything that mistakes marker for destination, existence for meaning—it’s the cost of forgetting, of leaving every grave unknown.

What then? What of death? What of life? Teetered on the edge of each, a moment hangs austere though ours for having. “What he said wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t right, and a false note jarred,” Forster writes. “One little twist, they felt, and the instrument might be in tune.” Blazoned by the metaphor, voice transforms; incandescence surges forth for context. Hence, in consonance with the core, a blush unfolds:

“London was beginning to illuminate herself against the night. Electric lights sizzled and jagged in the main thoroughfares, gas-lamps in the side streets glimmered a canary gold or green. The sky was a crimson battlefield... but London was not afraid. Her smoke mitigated the splendour, and the clouds down Oxford Street were a delicately painted ceiling, which adorned while it did not distract.”

Depicted this way, the city itself is an epiphany, precursor to that “tinge” unfurled in Mrs Dalloway and no less relevant to our breath here now. “There are moments when virtue and wisdom fail us,” Forster maintains. But to deny oneself, to consign oneself to a futile thread alone, is to miss the essential bond we bear. As Forster conveys by the end:

“It is only that people are far more different than is pretended. All over the world men and women are worrying because they cannot develop as they are supposed to develop. Here and there they have the matter out, and it comforts them. Don’t fret yourself... A place, as well as a person, may catch the glow. Don’t you see that all this leads to comfort in the end? It is part of the battle against sameness. Differences, eternal differences, planted by God in a single family, so that there may always be colour; sorrow perhaps, but colour in the daily grey.”

And attention, too, at times of loss and that peace in moving forward. “Connect,” as Forster writes. As in constance, as in stream—deep in careful consciousness, honour for the dead that remain through us. And seek: “...connect the prose and the passion, and both will be exalted, and human love will be seen at its height. Live in fragments no longer.”

[antitheticaldreamgirl-13]

okay I’m back…lets continue… (the same tw applies)

One point from the Swiftologist that I forgot to mention is how he thinks that Anna Marks is equating queer fans with Gaylors. He has a very strong reaction to this, him being a gay man who is not a Gaylor. I would agree that a lot, probably most, of queer fans are in fact not Gaylors but Marks was mentioning how they might pick up on different hints, which I do think is true. I’m pretty sure that she also didn’t want to have to keep saying “Gaylors” over and over throughout the article too….it’s not really that deep…

Then he discusses a point Marks made: “How might her industry, our culture and we, ourselves, change if we made space for Ms. Swift to burn that dollhouse to the ground?” (The dollhouse being the straight image she has created for herself where “she fails in love with a man or she gets revenge,” as Marks explains.) The Swiftologist points out that maybe Taylor doesn’t want to burn down the dollhouse. He argues that Taylor needs to have agency to do what she wants.

My response is that if she doesn’t want to burn down the dollhouse, she doesn’t have to. Marks is just asking what might happen if we made the *space* for Taylor to do so. There’s a difference between forcing her to come out and simply making room for it.

The Swiftologist then critiques the argument that Taylor would be unsuccessful if she were to come out. I agree that Taylor would still be famous and respected if she were to explicitly state she’s queer, but, at the same time, we must remember that she is not just any artist. She has, in a way, built her career on the idea that she is writing songs about men. To change that narrative, even if only partially, would be a very unwanted surprise for many of her fans. So many more people would start to question all her relationships with men, whether they were fake or not. Also the Swiftologist is the one who keeps pointing out that we should never out people, that people should decide if and when to come out, so he clearly understands why people would want to stay closeted. So that seems hypocritical to say that there is no reason for her to stay in the closet; if there wasn’t, why would it be problematic to speculate about her sexuality? And if there is a reason to stay in the closet, then we can understand why she hasn’t come out as queer.

The Swiftologist talks about how other celebrities have explained how harmful outing and speculating is, such as Harry Styles. He uses this as evidence that the “speculating” Gaylors do is harmful to Taylor. But my question is…if, as you say, many celebrities have gone on the record about how speculation and outing has affected them, THEN WHY HASN’T TAYLOR? And don’t point to the 1989 prologue. She literally explains how she dislikes the speculating about her dating random men was harmful and the speculation about how all her friendships with women were potentially secretly romantic. That means both men and women (that doesn’t stop the Hetlors from speculating about male relationships though). She’s talking about people randomly saying “this friendship she has with X woman is romantic,” not about friendships with women she hints at heavily in her songs.

The Swiftologist just keeps repeating points…any evidence presented in the article is “false pattern recognition” or “confirmation bias,” but he doesn’t explain why. I mean, Marks presented a good amount of evidence, not just a few random connections, so it’s annoying when all he says in response is that Gaylors are delusional.

There are a few points that I didn’t cover/accidentally missed but I’ve addressed his main points.

tw: I’m horrible at trigger warnings and am not good at wording them, but just know that I discuss a lot of really frustrating and harmful points made by Hetlors and horrible insults directed at Gaylors. Take care of yourselves.

Alright folks the time has arrived to cry and sob and scream about Hetlors, specifically the Swiftologist. His reaction video to the NYT article: https://youtu.be/9Pd9KWKKxfE?si=ByMrJSbyNJOD1T3t

I’m going to go through each of his points and point out the flaws of such points.

*gets out notes*

Okay, so. The first thing he does is call Gaylors conspiracy theorists. Anything Gaylor-related is a conspiracy theory, in his view. Not only that, it’s a conspiracy theory comparable to QAnon and other far-right conspiracy theories, a conspiracy theory with “no merit or factual basis,” a conspiracy theory that is “delusional” and “meth math.” Gaylor theories are “based on misinformation and false beliefs,” according to him.

Whew. This is a very strong reaction. First of all, comparing Gaylor to QAnon is so ridiculous. I mean. Come on. Really? Second, we know that Gaylor theories do have evidence. There is so much, even just within that article. I reblogged just before this a list of all the evidence made in the article. Also, what is the “misinformation” that he mentions? Gaylors just point out the evidence that we have and let people draw their own conclusions. We aren’t misrepresenting anything (most of us, anyway).

Alright let’s continue. Swiftologist then argues that Gaylors have a distrust of the narrative Taylor has created and the “many times she has stated she is not part of the community.” Gaylors apparently do not respect Taylor or her songs and aren’t really Swifties at all—just people who are trying to prove that she is gay.

Okay I really want to know this….WHAT ARE THE MANY TIMES SHE HAS SAID THAT SHE IS NOT PART OF COMMUNITY?! SHOW THEM TO ME! She said that once. *Once*. And that still doesn’t mean she is saying that she is straight. Furthermore, we do trust Taylor. If she says she’s straight, we’ll believe it. I mean we’re the ones looking at all the tiny details of her songs. We’re the ones drawing the connections. Hetlors doesn’t do that, and yet Gaylors are the ones who don’t trust Taylor’s narrative? Like??? What kind of argument is that?

Then he says that Gaylors are trying to out Taylor.

But we aren’t. We really aren’t. We’re just looking at what TAYLOR HERSELF has said and done and connecting the dots. We’re not trying to spy on her personal life or anything like that…we’re literally just looking at her OWN lyrics that SHE put created, knowing what the reaction would be. It’s just. This argument from Hetlors makes me laugh every time.

Okay so THEN he lists a bunch of crazy stuff Gaylors have done. I don’t want to get into them because I agree with the Swiftologist that they were crazy. But, at the same time, it’s not like you can blame the entire Gaylor community for a few Gaylors’ actions and use that to debunk Gaylor theories. That’s just not how it works.

He continues by listing different…logical fallacies you might call them? Different things that are common with conspiracy theories: false pattern recognition, confirmation bias, etc. I won’t get into that right now, but this is a large part of his argument later, so keep that in mind.

He makes a critique of the way the article compares Taylor to Chely Wright. He says it’s a “false equivalency.”

I would say that the author, Anna Marks, was simply pointing out an example of closeting and the effects of staying in the closet on one’s mental and emotional health and an example of coming out and the effects of coming out. I personally don’t think she was saying that Taylor is very similar to Wright…

Then Swiftologist talks about some Gaylor evidence presented in the article. He doesn’t actually give a reason for why they are unconvinced but simply states that it is “so delusional to me that people think this is true.”

He mentions the YNTCD music video and claims that only a straight person could have made it and that it was cringey and even that it portrayed LGBTQ+ in such a stereotypical way that it was “deeply offensive.” I mean. It was definitely cringey. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that only a straight person could have made it. It’s honestly just so odd that he attacks Gaylor theories for their lack of “merit or factual basis,” and yet he literally uses the cringy-ness of a music video to say that Taylor must be straight? I know it was largely a joke, but he was also serious, and for some reason it just bugged me.

Marks talks about how the YNTCD song and music video were mostly perceived as performative allyship but she raises the question of whatever they were genuinely expressing herself. Swiftologist responds to this by saying that this is a false binary (performative allyship vs. Taylor is gay) , but I don’t really think so. If Taylor is straight and she wrote that song and made that video, she probably came at it from a decent place, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t performative. (Honestly if Taylor is straight, a lot of the stuff that she’s done I would consider to be very iffy, so I think Marks raises a good point here.)

Swiftologist then goes on another rant about Gaylors, asking why they don’t just believe Taylor and literally calling them “delusional 9/1 truthers.” Look, I get that he’s upset, but he doesn’t have to insult and name-call and be generally immature. As Taylor would say, why you gotta be so mean?

He continues to simply state that all the evidence provided is not proof and that Gaylor theories are delusional, but he does also say that the Cruel Summer lyrics—“I don’t wanna keep secret just to keep you”—could easily be explained by the fact that Taylor CHEATED ON JOE and/or was desperately avoiding the paparazzi.

Like. Lemme get this straight. He would rather that Taylor be a *cheater* than be gay? He thinks that saying she is a cheater is perfectly fine but saying that she might be gay isn’t. I have no words.

*manages to regain my bearings*

Alright, so then Swiftologist (oh my god I just realized that I could simply call him by his real name, Zach, instead of typing out that long name, but now I’m committed) says that he has an OPEN MIND and is open to different interpretations versus the author of the article, who is a “crazy person,” who is completely close minded, apparently. He says, “point me to one piece of solid evidence in this article.” He then continues with his point about open-mindedness, saying that he agrees that Taylor songs COULD be about women (they probably aren’t, but there is a potential there) and because he believes that it means he is a generous and intellectual and open-minded human being, according to him. But Anna Marks, on the other hand, like all other Gaylors, is *completely* close-minded and has not even THOUGHT of the possibility that Taylor could be straight.

Like jeez. Does Swiftologist not see the hilarity of this argument? I”m seriously starting to lose it.

In fact, I’m going to take a break and continue where I left off in the morning. I don’t even have the energy to revise this so hopefully there are no glaring mistakes.

Thanks so much for anybody who read this! Have a great morning/afternoon/night!

[everyonesfavoritepipecleaner]

Cocktails and Confessions

Summary: a night out with the ladies of the BAU leads to more than one spilled secret

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Genre: fluff (shocker, I know)

Content Warning: alcohol/drinking - think that's it but please let me know if I missed anything

A/N: this is for @reidslibrarybook's 1k celebration!! Congrats Nat, I had so much fun writing for this 🥰

Cards: Kitchen (Season 5), Gold Pen (Drunken Confession), Alvez (Prompt 5: "There's no way that's happening, absolutely not.")

“Another, another!” Penelope chants as she slides the shot glass in front of you. You eye her warily and she piles on, “Come on, last one of the night!”

“You guys are the worst influences I’ve ever met,” you laugh, the corners of your eyes crinkling up in the way they only do when you’re truly happy. JJ counts to three as you tap your glasses on the table before knocking them back and grimacing at the burn of the alcohol.

“Hey, with everything we see at work we have to let loose somehow!” Emily says with a wild grin.

You hum in agreement. In the six months you’ve been with the BAU you’ve dealt with some of the most grueling cases of your career. It takes a toll at times, emotionally and physically, but it’s worth it to know you’re doing your part in bringing some of the worst people in the world to justice. And while you couldn’t have asked for a better team to work with, sometimes you still feel like a bit of an outsider. It’s clear they’ve forged strong bonds with one another throughout their years of working together, but nights like these make you remember how openly they’ve welcomed you into their chosen family.

Penelope nudges your shoulder, shaking you from your thoughts, “Y/N, don’t look now, but that gorgeous specimen of a man over there has been making eyes at you all night.”

You cast a cautious glance toward the bar. He’s the textbook definition of handsome with his strong jawline and steely blue eyes, blonde hair perfectly coiffed. You give him a polite smile when he sees you looking his way before turning back to the table.

“Objectively, yes, very hot. Not really my type though,” you remark, raising your eyebrows and taking a sip of your drink.

“Not your type?! If that’s not your type, what is?” Penelope asks, wide-eyed.

“Seriously! I would be all over that if it weren’t for Will,” JJ interjects, her giggles devolving into a fit of hiccups.

You give a halfhearted shrug. “I don’t know,” you start, unsuccessful in stopping your mind from drifting to thoughts of Spencer. “I guess someone who’s always there for me, who will put aside what they’re doing to hear about my day. Caring, tender, smart… maybe a little nerdy. Looks don’t matter as much, although I’m definitely more into brunettes. Bonus points for curly hair. Oh! And if it’s a bit longer too—so I can tug on it. Grab a fistful of his hair, pull his head back, kiss his neck—“ you cut yourself off, the alcohol coursing through your veins causing your mouth to run wild alongside your thoughts.

“So… Reid.” Emily smiles devilishly.

“What? No,” you say a bit too quickly.

“Oh my god! You totally like him!” Penelope squeals, practically bouncing out of her seat with excitement. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god! You two would be the cutest couple! Em, Jayje, we have to make this happen.”

“Penelope, no! There’s no way that’s happening, absolutely not,” you beg. “He’s just a friend, not to mention my coworker. I’m sure he doesn’t think of me that way!”

At this, JJ lets out a small gasp.

“What?” Emily whips toward her.

“Nothing!”

“Oh my god, you know something! That is not a ‘nothing’ face,” Penelope chimes in, scrutinizing JJ’s features. You stare intently too, your interest officially piqued.

“Spencer has a crush on Y/N!” She rushes, eyes wide as she claps a hand over her mouth after the words escape.

“He… he does?” You ask, heart fluttering in your chest.

Emily lets out an exaggerated groan, “Oh my god, of course he does! How did I not see it before?! It’s so obvious!”

“Em, now is not the time to be lamenting your profiling skills—we need details!” Penelope exclaims, emphasizing the syllables of her last words with four quick taps of her palm on the table.

“JJ,” your heartbeat hammers in your ears, “I need you to tell me exactly how you know this. Did he tell you?”

“Yeah… It was that night after the two of you babysat Henry together. You had just left, and he couldn’t stop talking to me and Will about how great you were with him. At one point it just kind of slipped out. He said something like ‘that’s why I like her so much, she’s sweet and considerate and so beautiful too—” her words are cut short by another hiccup, “He didn’t even realize he had said it at first. But as soon as he did he made us promise not to tell you.”

“That was like, three months ago!” You shriek as you let out the breath you weren’t aware you were holding, head spinning from this sudden influx of information. “JJ, I’ve been pining over him practically since I set foot in the bullpen, and you’re telling me I could have been with him this whole time?”

“Well, what are you waiting for now? You have to go tell him how you feel!” Penelope shouts, waving frantically to catch the bartender’s attention to close out your tabs.

“I’ve got the Uber!” Emily offers, already pulling her phone from her bag.

You walk outside and take a deep breath, the dull warmth of the alcohol starting to fade from your veins, overtaken by a rush of pure adrenaline. This was really happening. You were about to go confess your feelings for Spencer Reid.

The drive to his apartment is filled with you finally spilling the details of your crush to your friends—how he always has extra tins of your favorite tea stashed in his desk, how you love the fact that he teaches you something new every day, how he even lets you win against him in chess every now and then. You clamber out as soon as the car comes to a stop, excited energy thrumming through the cool night air as your feet hit the pavement.

You scan the facade and take in the distilled moments, vignettes of different lives, each window offering a glimpse into a unique story. There’s a couple washing dishes at the sink, a cat perched comfortably in a bedroom taking in the night’s views, and then your eyes land on the telltale soft glow of Spencer’s apartment. His silhouette is reclined in the reading chair by the window, the green tint of his walls visible through the sheer curtains. You find a few small pebbles on the sidewalk and toss them at his window, turning to give an elated smile to the girls cheering you on from the car.

There’s a flurry of movement before Spencer draws back the curtain, the look of annoyance on his face morphing into one of confusion and concern when he sees you. He opens the window and shouts, “Y/N? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

“Spencer! I like you too!”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“JJ told me everything! And I like you, Spence—a lot! So much so that I have a hard time thinking about anything else when I’m around you.”

“Hold on, I’m coming down,” he calls.

Your heart beats faster with each passing second until he emerges from his building, awash in the dim glow of the streetlights. As he crosses the lawn to you, his eyes dart to the car and take in the sight. Penelope’s face and hands are pressed eagerly against the window, Emily shoots him a drunken grin accompanied with finger guns, JJ gives him a look that’s somehow a cross between apologetic for spilling his secret but ecstatic at the romantic comedy-esque events unfolding before her.

Spencer turns his attention back to you, “Y/N, are you serious? This—this isn’t some joke you guys are playing on me?”

“Spence,” your heart breaks a little at the implication, “Yes, I like you! I’ve liked you ever since that day in the break room when I asked you why you take so much sugar in your coffee and you launched into that whole explanation of how we’re genetically predisposed to like sweet things, and that sugar was widely regarded as medicine in ancient Greece and Rome.” You roll your eyes to feign annoyance, but can’t keep from smiling fondly at the memory.

“You remembered that?” The concerned wrinkle sitting between his brows finally smooths out, the beginnings of a smitten smile playing on his lips.

“Of course I remember! I remember everything we talk about. Well, almost everything. It’s not like I have your eidetic memory, but when it comes to the people I care about, I remember,” you assure him. The truth is that with him, you find it hard to forget. Every time he absent-mindedly swept his hair out of his eyes or accidentally brushed his arm against yours is seared into your mind, the way one’s mind only works when you’re hopelessly in love.

“Can I tell you something?” He asks.

“Always.”

“I really want to kiss you right now,” he says with an intense sincerity, like it’s the only thing he’s capable of thinking at the moment.

“Can I tell you something?” A mischievous grin plays on your face as you take a few steps forward.

“Of course,” he answers, the two of you drawing closer with every breath.

You take his hands in yours and pull him in, “I really want you to kiss me right now.”

A spark ignites, his lips on yours the match that fuels the flame. You’re enveloped in peppermint and the lingering taste of coffee, his hands drifting from their place in yours to cradle your waist. Yours travel to the nape of his neck to pull him ever-closer to you, and what started as a tender kiss grows deeper, his tongue slipping into your mouth to tangle with yours. When you break apart and open your eyes into his, you peer into a world where your lives are intertwined—woven together so seamlessly, it’s a wonder you had ever known a time without the other.

A series of whoops and high-pitched squeals erupt from the still-parked car and you let out an embarrassed laugh, having been too swept up in the moment to remember your teammates were witnesses to the whole ordeal. You watch as Emily leans in to tell the driver something, then gives you a suggestive grin as the car starts to pull away.

“You know, I’ve told them before that I wish they wouldn’t meddle in my personal life,” Spencer remarks sheepishly, “but this time, I have to admit I’m thankful they did.”

“Me too,” you say with a blissful smile.

He tightens his grip on your waist and plants a kiss on the top of your head, and contentment washes over you, knowing that this is just the first of a lifetime of moments together. And with Spencer by your side, you can’t wait to watch your stories unfold.

as always, thanks so much for reading - hope you enjoyed :)

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[digressions21]

The Adam Driver Complex

I’d like to preface this by saying that this isn’t really about Adam Driver, but more of an outpouring of thoughts and feelings towards fame and why so many people want it. I recently graduated university and will soon be starting my first job in the ‘real world’. My job is nothing to do with acting, nor does it have any way of making me rich and famous. This fact has caused me to deep dive into despair over the fact that I am not famous, and probably never will be.

The Adam Driver part of this comes from a Fan Fiction story I read a month ago, after I discovered how amazingly written a selection of stories based around the Star Wars characters ‘Rey’ and ‘Kylo Ren/Ben’ are, of which Driver plays the latter. Fan Fiction can be a bit of a cesspool at times; however, it is a guilty pleasure. Anyway, I read a story where Rey was a clothes designer to the stars, and Kylo Ren/Ben was a famous actor who she designed. I won’t go into detail about the story, but they of course ended up together engaged and happy, after some initial drama. It is not a new formula, and I have read similar stories hundreds of times. However, this story stuck with me. This version of Rey was a relatively normal girl just doing a job she loved – she was not initially rich or famous, just a ‘normal’ person. Upon entering her relationship with the famous actor she became known, and discussed things such as the Oscars with her famous now-fiancé. When I finished the story I felt surprisingly melancholic, so I went on a drive to a park and thought about why I was upset but this story which was good, but perhaps shouldn’t have caused such a reaction in me. I realised that it bummed me out because I would never be that Rey character, I would never meet and fall in love with this character based around Adam Driver, and I would probably never marry him. But why would I? I don’t know Adam Driver, and though I am sure he is lovely, I am confident that he is very happy with his wife and family. So, why am I still bothered?

I realised that it wasn’t some infatuation with Adam Driver that was getting me down – it was the fact that I am not famous enough to have the opportunity to meet a person like him. Of course, one doesn’t need to be famous to meet a famous person, but it definitely makes it easier. Now, I have developed a complex with the actor Adam Driver, through no fault of his own. Whenever I see him online or in a film I am reminded of my inability to have the same opportunities as him or be as famous as him. More annoyingly, whenever I see an actor in a film that he is in, I relate this complex to them and am reminded once more! (For example, Lady Gaga is in the new House of Gucci film – which looks fantastic – however, she stars opposite Driver, and now when I see her it all comes back to me). It is starting to become a little dramatic.

This led me to another question – why would I want to be famous? I have a lovely life surrounded by great friends and family, opportunities related to my passions, and a positive-looking future. Additionally, I value my privacy, something which celebrities often seem bereft of due to the demanding and insidious nature of social media and paparazzi (this word reminded me of Lady Gaga, which reminded me of Driver – it’s hard to escape this cycle). Sure, being rich must be nice, and it must be great to provide for your family easily, but it takes hard work to get there, I’m sure. I’m not a particularly gifted actor, and I don’t really want to make the sacrifices needed to become an Oscar-winning actor either. My career in amateur acting came to a slow end after an unsuccessful audition at a drama school in London. So, if I can make these conclusions, surely this should quell my sudden desire to become famous enough to meet Adam Driver, right?

Wrong. I cannot seem to escape this complex. I find myself trying to think of ways I can become famous on the sly, whilst progressing through my everyday job. Dreams of a famous agent seeing me on the street and stopping me, because I look like the perfect person to cast in some blockbuster movie, and of course they don’t need to audition me – they can already tell I’ll be perfect! However, this sounds like the plot for another Fan Fiction story, which is what got me into this trouble in the first place.

I know that I am not the only person in the world who feels this compulsion to be famous and walk the red carpets but feels like I lack the opportunities (and if I’m being honest, talent) to get there. This reminder does make me feel better, along with the fact that the majority of people in the world are not famous and are very happy. I am reminded of a quote from Rainer Maria Rilke, from the book of hours, which states “Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final”. I hope that one day this feeling will slowly fizzle away, so I can appreciate the accomplishments that I do make in life, even if they probably won’t involve being famous and meeting Adam Driver on the red carpet.

I often remind myself that there are many people who were considered the crème de la crème in terms of fame and reputation one hundred years ago that are probably forgotten now. It is this idea of not being remembered that underlies this entire issue, as of course none of us wants to be forgotten. However, you can be the most famous person on the planet, but that doesn’t mean that you’ll be remembered in three-thousand years’ time (unless you’re somebody like the Greek figure Achilles, who is still discussed in 2021). Homer’s epic the Iliad focuses heavily on this concept, that the names of men “fall likes leaves”, and the downfall of many heroes within the story is that they care too much about their kleos – their glory and reputation. The fact that this poem discusses a topic which bothers people thousands of years later makes me feel good – our feelings of insignificance are not original, and they don’t need to be our downfall. That is why I wrote this piece, in case there are other people out there who have complexes of their own – perhaps yours is based on another famous individual, such as Brad Pitt or Kermit the Frog. Whatever the case, I have made peace with the fact that from time to time this feeling of insignificance may plague me, even when I am doing well in my life. I mean really, we are all insignificant in the grand scheme of things – will Adam Driver be remembered in three-thousand years’ time? Maybe! He is a pretty great actor – but who is to tell. It is unlikely any of us will be remembered that far into the future, and that’s ok. As long as we are having a good time in the here and now and making a positive impact on the planet I think we are going to be ok. Even if that positive impact is something as small as writing a blog post on why the idea of Adam Driver is causing a bit of drama in your life right now.