#not me realizing I can change the format of the pictures ages after I’ve posted this lmao whoops

[m-aximumjoy]

like brother, like brother

[kaigayoso]

2023: too much

i used to think that my writing would suffer when i wasn’t depressed anymore and that turned out to be somewhat true. not that i was like debilitatingly depressed in the way that i used to be when i was younger but like the general feeling of depression that comes with a mass amount of instability in your life. 

this might have been the first year post initial covid where i actually had the mental capacity to process what the fuck just happened in the last few years. i changed jobs, i moved across the country, i am a completely different person than i was in 2020 or 2021 even. and i love who i’ve become. 

writing that feels somewhat foreign, and acknowledging it to other people even moreso. liking who i am feels like a betrayal to the persona that has gotten me through the past couple years - someone who pushes through amidst all of the self hatred and flagellation to achieve and earn that big, beautiful life. 

i turned 30 this year and to be honest it’s been something i’ve been looking forward to for years. there’s a capricorn trope that we benjamin button as we age, meaning that after an initial set of hardship years in our youth, we learn to ease up as the fruits of our labor begin to flourish. we somehow act younger as we get older. whether as a coping mechanism or confirmation bias, i have believed that with my entire being. i don’t think i’ve ever spiritually felt this young and alive before.

for those of you that are new on this read, hey. this is year 5 of this format and year 8 of me taking the time in december to actually recap what this year meant to me. truthfully this has turned into a thing i cherish and love greatly so i appreciate anyone that reads these as it is incredibly personal. 

i read all of my past editions before writing this year’s and it’s crazy to have a pretty accurate depiction of you in a single instance, i feel like i write these for future me as i do for present and past me. there’s something here directly correlative to some inner child work which we’ll get to in a bit but i don’t think i have an articulate way of phrasing why i love these essays so much except for the picture of me getting to share these essays with my future kids so they could see that their dad has had some really incredible memories, insights, and people he surrounded himself with. when my dad died, all we had left were his letters to us over the years and i remember thinking how sudden it was that these became finite. i think that’s when i realized that there is a set number of times to tell someone you love them. how can you create something tangible to embody that love?

here we are in december of 2023 and i will look back on this year as the year that i realized i was enough. and what a beautiful feeling that is. 

i got coffee a few months ago with my philosopher friend ian (we met on twitter, whole thing) and we went back and forth a few times about the concept of peace. i waxed poetic on something and immediately felt the twinge of cringe, that i had boasted a little too much or was pushing too far on my friend, and apologized for the casual narcissism. he asked why i felt the need to add a caveat to my statement and i didn’t have an answer other than the honest one: i didn’t want you to think that i thought of myself like that. 

there’s a need for the ability to be able to sit with your feelings and discomfort and work through them. as a compartmentalization king, this has been one of the more difficult things i’ve had to learn but think i have gotten infinitely better at it. i can sit in silence with myself at the table and have no anxiety about it. what no one told me about is how this needs to be learned for the good times too. mind blown! learning to stand still and be loved is the hardest thing of all.

everyone in my circle is incredibly ambitious, something that has really pushed me. you really are who you surround yourself with. i think my close friends has had multiple iterations over the years: proximity based when i was in various levels of schooling, history based as i transitioned into post grad life and began to build a life for my own in a city away from my closest friends at the time, and now this current version, one that probably is a mix of both but with my newfound identity permeating through it all. i get to look at my friends and see my favorite version of myself. isn’t that what friends are supposed to do? bring out the beautiful parts of you?

i’ve had a couple rough patches in the last few years but i’ve gotten through them with the help of my friends, both current and past. i think the funniest thing about 30 has been how my relationship with time has fully changed. i used to feel like i had so much time to do everything, that my life was moving at a clip that was wholly unsustainable but so fun and so full of color. this year, i couldn’t feel more differently. at some point in the spring this year, i felt it; i felt the switch flip. i was now acutely aware of just how fast time really is. 

this dichotomy was a bit of a mental jungle gym for a bit, on the work side i could not wait to wake up every day. we’ve had a really incredible year at work and i think that’s reflected in just how excited i am to get to it every morning. weeks flew by this year because i was always building something that i was excited about and there’s no better feeling that seeing something you’ve spent so much time on begin to bloom. i felt it in my clients, the work we’re doing, my team, and even in myself. in the earlier years of range, the job felt a bit like a jacket that was a little too big on me and now it fits. i’m really proud. personally, it became important to treat my friendships and personal relationships as a priority which counterintuitively meant slowing down. when you factor in work travel, events, conferences, and a life in two cities, it becomes very easy to just be a passenger and engage with what’s in front of you. 

a life in constant transit requires intention. i needed to slow down and make sure i was carving out time for relationships that were important to me. for me that meant being there for the small stuff, the random nights for drinks after work or running errands on the weekends. i was in nyc for the entire summer basically (a 32 day stint and a 28 day stint, two of my longest in one place in years) and i got to enjoy the familiarity of being around. i was always down for a drink or dinner or adventure and my friends knew it - i was reliable in that way and i cherished it.

something happened last year where i lost this exact cornerstone of my identity. i didn’t really know what was important to me. don’t get me wrong, last year was net positive and special for a number of reasons but that was not me there. i have an unruly habit of editorializing people and situations (i’m a storyteller at heart, that’s showbiz baby) mixed with a bit of intuition, i was so overly focused on preparing for whatever my mind could come up with that it put me at a distance from actually experiencing my life. i was so worried about losing people, i was convinced i was off my rocker, i was concerned with how i was being perceived, what my narrative was… it’s all very not me. well, actual me. i used to think i was psychic until my therapist told me that hypervigiliance was a trauma response and that i was just really good at context clues. last year i continued to get more of what i thought i wanted and it just kept feeling off. i chose to ignore the feeling.

i remember a conversation i had with my friend TJ years ago before life got really crazy where he praised my predictability. if there was a wedding or birthday or promotion or new relationship, i made it a point to be there for my friends. i was running a close circle of 50 people and it was what i wanted. a few years ago i realized i was so involved in my friends’ lives that i hadn’t really built a life for myself. i had a huge circle of friends and a great job but i was purposely neglecting building anything for me. i felt trapped by the weight of my own definition of “being a good friend/person.” i was starting to hate myself for not having my own life. 

i’ve been selfish the last few years, there isn’t really a way around it. and i think it’s fine to admit that, i’m human. i’ve been known to have debilitating FOMO over the years and last year i began to have FOMO on what i was “missing out in my life” by going and doing the right thing and being there for my friends in their big moments. i missed weddings, birthday, baptisms, all because i had created this narrative that the life i was living would be negatively affected if i were to miss anything that served the narrative. i began to resent some of my friends for having lives that began to diverge from mine, the ease of commonality we used to share now replaced with other friends/relationships/priorities and catch ups now spent trying to find new ground other than old memories. in return, i began to weaponize my absence in their lives as my life continued to grow bigger.

seeing that in writing is pretty difficult honestly, it’s not that fun to see an imperfect side of yourself in writing no matter how obvious. i didn’t know who i was without my friends and to see them fall in love, start families, and enter a new chapter together was really hard. i read a long time ago that the true measure of a friend is the ability to be unconditionally happy for them, and i’ve actually never had an issue doing that. and now, all i could feel was left behind. so i did what i do best, and i ran. i stayed away for a while.

i moved to nyc because it had the greatest concentration of my remaining single friends and, we will call it what it was, it was a very drastic effort by me to run away. so many of my problems were LA-centric, the people i left behind or wanted to leave behind, a life that i had built from the ground up that used to bring me such effortless joy now felt suffocating. i went to where i could find predictability again at a cost that was just so high.

i’ve spent a lot of this year making up for what i did last year. i made up with a ton of my old friends, ate a lot of shit that i absolutely deserved. i moved without telling people or making a big deal out of it because i didn’t want to come to terms with the fact that things were changing. i’ve always hated change. it was embarrassing to admit that i didn’t know how to grieve the end of an incredible chapter of my life so i instead chose to prolong it by not admitting that it was over. i’d be back in LA a ton, it’s not like anything would change… ya ok brother.

it was important to me that i go back and make things right this year. i was going to make this life in transit thing work. i was committed to staying in nyc (i genuinely love it and view it as the best thing i could’ve done for myself) and i realized the only way for me to be able to enjoy it was to go back and deal with all of the damage i had caused. these were relationships that used to be the most important in my life and people i knew intimately well, if i wanted to keep them in my life then i needed to kill my ego and actually do the work. 

there’s an amazing vogue article i read about talking to ex-friends and what you can learn from those talks about yourself. as a former people pleaser, this was pretty much the apocalypse - admitting that you let someone down and coming to terms with the consequences. for the sake of brevity (we’re on page 4 and i still got a few life lessons to go) i’ll summarize them as best as i can (initials changed):

A & B were my two best friends/former roommates in LA and were the last people i saw when i left for new york, things were great then. at some point in the months after, i had gotten it into my head that they hated me as they continued to post with our old friends and i distanced myself from them completely. when we spoke, there were issues we needed to discuss together but we were all surprised that none of us ever hated each other. we had all missed each other but they were never going to voice it to me if i had not taken the initiative to give them the forum to do so. my narrative about them turned out to be completely false. now they are two of my first texts whenever i have LA plans, we are actually in the best place we’ve ever been as friends.

C was my best friend during covid and is genuinely one of the greatest people i have ever met. our friendship developed so beautifully over the covid years going from a party friend to a hangout friend to a first call friend. we connected on all levels as sons of immigrants and wildly ambitious entertainment execs and had such fundamentally deep conversations that we had talked about being in each other’s weddings. he could’ve been one of my best men. naturally avoidant, i remember a story one of our mutual friends told about the only fight they had ever gotten in and the drastic measures he had to take to get C to talk to him about it honestly so they could work through it. as our friendship began to deterioriate with my move, he tried in his own way to get me to talk to our friends and i didn’t. we talked recently about appreciating the friendship we used to have but there wasn’t a way forward for us. i had hurt him deeply. he didn’t think the trust could ever be regained and i felt that too. 

D was one of my best friends growing up and, at a wedding during covid, he and my old friends completely iced me out. a rare social situation where i ended up completely alone. that one hurt. we sat and he talked about how i made them all feel. like i was always going to be onto something bigger and better than them, that for how nostalgic i tend to be that i would never actually turn around and look back for them. i didn’t have an answer other than i’m sorry. we probably will never be close again but there’s no beef here.

there’s something inherently freeing about coming to terms with being imperfect. it was really important to me that i created a space for my friends to have a really difficult and honest conversation with me. i know i can get defensive and emotional and shut down and i wanted these to be productive because i wanted them in my life again. the commonality i found in all of these conversations was the acknowledgement of the love that was still there. it is really hard to look at someone you know everything about and see anything other than love in their eyes. these conversations were a result of our shared history and our future, or lack thereof, was not up to me. and i had to be okay with it. in the case of C, there had been too much time between now and then. he met someone he will probably marry. his life had moved on without me.

after these conversations, i had nothing left in LA to be afraid of. and i felt that. i had dealt with so much of the trauma interlaced with the city and my life on the west coast that I actually started to feel the passage of time move once again. in a good way! in the wake of these conversations, i had tapped back into the me that i wanted to be, that i had always been up to that point. i showed up for my friends. i did what i said i would. i have people i care about deeply and they care about me. with this newfound momentum, i started to try and do the things i’ve always wanted to do. i started standing up for myself and advocating for my own needs. i stopped saying yes when i wanted to say no. 

at some point in the last few months, i started showing up as the version of me i wanted to be. my life started to feel different. i want to use every cliche in the book here because it is that beautiful to me. 

i’ve spent a lot of my therapy sessions lately trying to come up with the right way to describe this so it’s a bit unfinished but i’ve landed on the idea of assured confidence. i don’t have many questions about who i am anymore. i’ve operated from a place of fear and abandonment in my personal relationships for so long and i finally can begin to enjoy the big, beautiful life that i’ve created for myself. there are people that really love me and now i can finally feel it without questioning it. 

i wanted to end this with one of my favorite realizations this year. yes, i have a fear of abandonment. yes, i have a fear of change. but the greatest of them all has been the fear of being too much. this one has always cut a bit deeper given the code switch of growing up closeted, you learn how to audit yourself in real time so that you aren’t too crazy or emotional or dramatic or gay. you learn how to mute your own brightness for the sake of being more palatable to others. 

moreso in the last 2 years than any other i’ve been called my most hated word: dramatic. and i am, just to be clear. i don’t shy away from the fact that sometimes things mean more to me and i have an emotional reaction that can be outsized. i’ve had that word weaponized against me in every way this year, from former friends to peers to people who honestly don’t know a single thing about me. i wish i listened to my gut in those moments, things were off and i was right the entire time. but what’s the point of being right if everyone is worse off for it. i was lamenting a few weeks ago about the most recent of these situations and jack started laughing, to which i had a totally reasonable reaction of having a complete meltdown. he goes “it can get dramatic but you aren’t dramatic. you just care. a lot. it comes with the territory. and to be cared for by you is one of the greatest gifts i have in my life right now, i wouldn’t trade it for anything.” 

friendship is a privilege with a price. you need to be around people who understand the first part and are decisive on the second. whether intentional or not, i have spent so much of the last few months surrounded by only friends i can be my entire self around. and i can feel it. i go out and feel fully present, one of my best friends asks me to be an usher in his wedding so yes i will obviously cry at the bar, i make my friends text me when they get home and they appreciate it, i tell them i love them every chance i get and they say it back. for the first time, i feel like i can rest. like i am enough. like i am loved. because i am.

i can’t tell you what the meaning of life is but i can tell you the meaning of my life in this moment is making the people around me feel seen and loved. i love it and it makes me happy. i hope i remember this when it’s hard. i talk about grief all the time because it’s a feeling i know initimately well, it’s a feeling born of loss. this year i discovered the love in grief. it’s in all of the unsaid i love yous, the things you never got to do together, the song that reminds me of you, the quote that speaks for you. there’s a lot of people i have had to say goodbye to or have to love from a distance, it’s the nature of change. i hope they get everything they’ve ever wanted and i don’t hear a single thing about it. i’ve come to appreciate the collage of love that i am. i am everything and everyone i have ever loved. 

dear orpheus had one job: not to look back. he could have had it all if he just hadn’t looked back. i think i will always look back, it’s who i am

[7spaceace7]

These Thoughts We Carry

No one really knows about Sooga’s past. No one knows where he came from, or what burdens he carries. But Hylia damn them all, Master Kohga doesn’t let anybody go through that shit alone, especially when he knows what it’s like to deal with nightmares all the time. Especially when it’s the one he loves most.

 Master Kohga x Sooga hurt/comfort fic that I churned out after like two days and a bad set of nightmares. I hope you enjoy! I’ll post it on AO3 as well!

Warnings: Implied physical abuse 

Word count:  2387

In a desert, it is easy to forget that the sky can change. From early morning, it seems the sun is always burning down your back, clutching you in its comforting, yet suffocating, grasp. You almost forget that dusk is just hours away. The unclouded blue skies seem to go on forever. 

Though, every resident of Hyrule knows that the desert night is even more unforgiving than the daytime’s blistering heat. You are placed at a disadvantage amongst your foes. Lizalfos and bokoblins settle in for unsuspecting prey wandering about the sands. Anyone who has the wit about them could surprise you, if you are unlucky. And of course, the frozen winds bring a chill that digs deep into bone when just moments before you might have been begging for such relief. 

But none of those things were the reason Sooga hated the nights of Gerudo Desert. No, Sooga despised them for their unending silence. The vast emptiness. The endless searching for something besides your thoughts. Desert nights used this loneliness to stir up a past better left forgotten, and that is what Sooga hated most of all. 

He stood at the entrance of the Yiga Clan hideout, just before the land dipped and delved into its rugged formations of rock. The inverted eye statues stood through the whistling winds. Their cloth counterparts strung up above blew with a disheveled intensity. This nuisance of a noise was the only sound Sooga could hear rustling through the valley. Well, that and perhaps his restless mind. 

His thoughts were always loudest when he was trying to sleep, and often woke him up in the middle of the night. Tonight happened to be such a night where they were too loud to be kept inside the hideout. Certainly, they were too loud to continue resting next to Master Kohga, lest he wake him unnecessarily. Sooga would never dare to do this. Instead, he would resign himself to the chilled desert air at the beginning of the hideout when the memories became painful enough. If he could not sleep, at least he could be useful and take a nightwatch shift. His one good eye settled right on the valley’s opening.

Focus, Sooga. Do not let your mind drift. 

But his memories would not be silenced. He remembered a broken picture frame from his dream that night. The frame once held a family of three, but had broken into a family of only cracks after a bout of rage from a man he once called a father. It might have meant nothing to anyone else, but to Sooga...the screaming of the drunken bastard entered his ears at the simple sight of it. Sooga tried desperately to shake it from his mind, but his memories of the nightmare shoved through.

A broken picture frame, pieces splintered around thatchwood floor. A broken picture frame, having been thrown at his person when he hadn’t the skill to protect himself. A broken picture frame, among other airborne objects, that he narrowly avoided by the miracle of perhaps Hylia herself.

The Yiga warrior let a shaky breath escape his masked lips. Fists clenched tightly, as if that man would be right behind him if only he found courage to look. A quick glance told him nothing was there, but his heart was not at ease. 

Logically, Sooga knew there was nothing. He knew his father had left this world long ago. Sooga knew it so firmly because it was his own hands that finished him off. Simple strangulation, soon after he had only turned eighteen years of age. The warrior had made sure there was none of his father left in this world to haunt him ever again.

Yet here he was. Years later, still scared by ghosts he’d conjured up himself. The uniformed man sighed, and in a moment of weakness, pried off his white mask. Sooga was careful not to deepen the crack as his palm gingerly encased the object. Perhaps the cold air against his bare skin would be of use to his intruding thoughts. At least, he thought, it was nice to feel fresh air.

“There you are!” Came a familiar voice from behind his post. Sooga jumped and smacked the mask back onto his face in a panic. He blinked once from surprise, and once more from the shock he just gave his facial nerves.

“M-Master Kohga,” Sooga got to his feet and bowed automatically, hoping his pounding heartbeat wasn’t able to be heard by his superior. “I had not thought you were awake at this hour.”

“I wasn’t, but then I rolled over and realized you up and vanished,” Kohga yawned, scratching an itch at his neck. He was without his uniform, but still donned a type of mask. This one was specifically for sleep, and made of soft, red fabric that held a sewn pattern of the inverted eye, closed instead of open. For now, this mask rested atop his forehead. “Yunno, for a big guy, you’re real hard to find. Took me forever to figure out where you went.”

“My apologies, Master Kohga.” 

“Eh, don’t sweat it, I was only a little worried,” This of course was a blatant lie, as Master Kohga had quickly woken up in a cold sweat after his hand fell upon an empty spot next to him in bed. He had grabbed only his robe in his haste to find where Sooga had gone. But of course, a dignified leader such as he would never have done a thing like that. Kohga took a spot next to Sooga’s post and sat down. “So what’re you doin’ way out here so late?”

Sooga was silent for a moment as he sat down next to his master. He contemplated brushing off the comment with a vague answer, but...something compelled him to confide instead. 

“A dream demon made its attempt on my subconscious,” Sooga spoke. He hoped to retain at least a bit of dignity by acting professionally, but the facade was lost on Kohga. “I did not want to wake you with it.”

“Nightmares gettin’ to ya again, I see.” 

Again? Had Kohga somehow already known of his recent night difficulties?

“Don’t look so surprised, we’ve been sleeping toge-- er, bunking --for a while now, and you get kinda squirmy when you aren’t dreaming well.”

Sooga hadn’t any idea of this happening. Shame sat upon his masked features and settled its way down to his throat. His tongue searched for something to say. An apology, perhaps? That was all he knew to do in a moment like this. Apologize for the inconvenience, apologize for the worries he must have induced, apologize for the disturbance of his master’s rest, apologize, apologize, apolo-

“You don’t have to feel bad, Sooga, I know you put all that pressure on yourself,” Master Kohga said. Sooga’s head turned towards the unmasked man beside him in utter surprise. Had he suddenly learned a new technique for mind-reading? “Nightmares suck. Real bad. I get it.”

Rather than questioning how he knew such an appropriate response, Sooga nodded, and dared to ask a different question. 

“What...happens? When you are brought to notice I am not resting well, that is,” Sooga asked quietly, head turning away once more. It was no surprise that Sooga was soft-spoken, but that was out of his own self-discipline. His day-to-day tone was based on leadership and careful thought, but this...this was a tone Kohga had never heard from his friend before. This was laced with fear. 

“Well, ah,” Kohga started. His brown eyes softened as he recalled one night waking to Sooga thrashing about their shared covers, murmuring something like a cry for help. To another night where Sooga had begun shaking uncontrollably. To a night just last week when he unmistakably heard a pleading for someone to stop. Stop what, Kohga didn’t know, and he knew even less of who it could be about. Even his best attempts to wake his second-in-command went without fruition. “Sometimes you say stuff. Sleep-talker nonsense, yunno, I usually don’t have a clue what you’re going on about. But you always seem so...scared.”

I always hold you when they get bad like that, Kohga wanted to say. The words were right there, threatening to spill out of him all at once in a jumble of messy worries and care that the Yiga master so desperately wanted to confess. But this wasn’t the time. 

Kohga left out the part where he’d always wrap his arms around a nightmare-stricken Sooga to calm his shakes and trembles. He left out the part where he’d draped a hand across Sooga’s chest and gently adjusted his mask enough to wipe away the hidden tears. He left out the part where he’d discovered that nuzzling his face into Sooga’s neck would cause the larger man to remember he was safe and briefly find relief. At least, Kohga hoped he did.

“I am sorry you have seen me in such weakness, Master Kohga..” Sooga finally replied, bringing Kohga back to the present moment. Kohga was right next to him, but still, the man seemed so far away.

“Being afraid isn’t weakness. Everybody gets scared of stuff, even me,” Kohga nudged Sooga’s side in a lighthearted gesture, as they both knew just how terrified the ‘fearless leader of the Yiga Clan’ could really get. “This world’s full of some scary shit. You’re allowed to get scared, no matter how strong you are. And you’re, like, the strongest guy I know, besides me of course.”

“You truly believe that?”

“Course I do! I mean look atcha, you’re twice my size and a badass,  dual-wielding blademaster. There’s no one in the world cooler than you and me, big guy.”

Sooga cracked a smile at that.

“My point is,” Kohga continued, “You don’t have to save face with me. Dream demons get to me too, yunno, that’s why I’ve got my big strong bodyguard next to me every night. That’s what makes me not so scared anymore. I know that nothin’s gonna get to me because if it tries, I’ve got you.”

Kohga paused, eyes drifting over to where Sooga’s own eye would be. “So, I wanna help you feel protected from ‘em, too.”

“But that is my job-” Sooga tried to protest, turning back to face his master.

“You deserve to feel safe, too, Sooga.”

Sooga was silent at this. They sat in the silence for a while, just simply staring at each other. Master Kohga’s brow furrowed in the rare serious manner that it did. He was determined to get Sooga to see how much he cared. He would do anything to help him, if only Sooga would allow it.

The warrior next to him saw that determination in his chocolate brown eyes, paired with another feeling he couldn’t quite pin. Whatever it was, it was inviting. Sooga couldn’t help but want to see it more. He wanted to share moments like this more, where it was just the two of them and neither put on a show. Moments where he could see the bouncing curls that framed Kohga’s chubby cheeks up close, and feel the warmth from his gaze. Perhaps one day, even, Sooga could let go of his own mask.

Kohga sighed, which led to a loud, long yawn overtaking his features. The plump clan master gave a little stretch and sat back against the wall. If Sooga didn’t want to, he wouldn’t bring it up again.

“I’m not gonna force you or anything, I just-”

“I would like to feel safe with you,” The words tumbled out of Sooga’s mouth before he had the notion to stop them. Somewhere along the lines, his hand had grabbed Kohga’s and was now clutching it tight. He hardly knew what he was doing, but didn’t back down. It felt right. “There are many things I must atone for. I do not know how to achieve this peace just yet, but…”

Kohga squeezed his hand back, trying to ignore the blatant blush dusting his cheeks. If not for the dark, surely Sooga would have seen and fretted over his health, as he often did, but Kohga wouldn’t mind. He never minded. 

“I’ll be here the whole time,” He assured. And he meant it. Whatever Sooga needed, Kohga would offer help. It was obvious that the masked man was holding onto something painful, and Kohga would offer his support in any way that he could. Even if it interrupted his sleeping schedule.

Another yawn bubbled up from Kohga’s chest, and when he tried to stifle it, it forced out as a hiccup anyway. 

Way to ruin a moment, Kohga thought.

Cute, Sooga chuckled to himself.

“Perhaps we should return to bed, and continue this in the morning,” Sooga offered. Master Kohga’s shoulders visibly relaxed in relief as he slumped his face into Sooga’s chest. It felt like two muscular pillows smushing against his cheeks, a blessing from Hylia probably. Er, Ganon. Totally meant Ganon.

“Yes please,” He whined pitifully. Another chuckle rumbled through Sooga’s chest, vibrating Kohga’s whole head. 

This time, Sooga took to reading his master’s mind. His strong arms effortlessly picked up the stouter man and cradled him against his chest, as if Kohga were a bride. The night air brought a chill, after all, and Kohga had only dressed his robe over his undergarments. He looked down to the half-lidded face against him.

“I do appreciate your words, Master Kohga. I will always remember your kindness,” Sooga whispered above the wind. He looked down at the bundle of a man for a response, but only found soft snoring instead. 

The stupendous chief of the Yiga Clan was asleep before his sentence was finished. 

Sooga’s smile was soft. The winds of the desert night rolled behind him deep in the valley, and Sooga turned away from them feeling slightly freer. If any dream demons dared test his patience this night again, this time they would be answering to the courageous man in his arms.

[tea-at-221]

So, let's delve a bit into the Spanish dub of Supernatural.

I'm going to go through a lot of terms here, and a lot of basics, in order to increase people's level of understanding as to how the dub may possibly have come about the way it did.

This post will provide information and, I hope, allow some members of the fandom to move forward with their own theories with more reassurance. Information is power. I will define and clarify industry terms to the best of my novice ability to make it easier for others who wish to do their own research.

This post was inspired by the fact that I've been part of multiple fandoms in which queerbaiting has played an enormous part: I am tired of seeing fandom friends left devastated and without answers, no emotional resolution in sight. So this post is, in spirit if not content, largely dedicated to my fellow Johnlockers and Queliot shippers. And most of all, for Quentin Coldwater, who deserved not just better but the very best.

Disclaimer: This is my own research and there is a bit of speculation involved; I can't guarantee 100% that I will get everything right (I hit some very frustrating walls looking up what should be easy-to-find facts), but I did a *lot* of work for this. Other people will doubtless be able to clarify points/give better specifics/correct what I've gotten wrong. I am not promising a concrete answer to “SPN gate” here, as without more information than we currently have that is impossible to declare with certainty.

More under the cut.

All that having been said, onwards (see end for sources):

First, who airs the Spanish dub of Supernatural?

Answer: the Warner Channel.

Why? It goes back to who owns The CW.

From Wikipedia (2): "The CW Network, LLC, a limited liability joint venture between the CBS Entertainment Group unit of ViacomCBS; and the Studios and Networks division of AT&T's WarnerMedia, the parent company of Warner Bros., former majority owner of The WB. The network's name is an abbreviation derived from the first letters of the names of its two parent corporations (CBS and Warner Media)."

Warner Bros apparently is the side that handles the delegation of dubbing to outside studios. So, who does Warner use for their dubbing? Perhaps multiple studios, but the two I found in the course of my research were SPGStudios(5) (who specifically handle localization for Latin American Spanish productions) and Iyuno Media Group (formerly BTI Studios)(3).

What is localization?

Simply put, it refers to the translation of the home language of the show in question to the language of the new market it's entering. So, Supernatural 15x18 is translated from its native English to Spanish for Latin American viewers.

And what exactly *is* dubbing (actually called revoicing within the industry; dubbing is a widely-recognized term, however, and it's pretty well understood what is meant by it)?

Here is the Merriam-Webster definition:

"1 : to add (sound effects or new dialogue) to a film or to a radio or television production —usually used with "in"

They dubbed in the music.

2 : to provide (a motion-picture film) with a new soundtrack and especially dialogue in a different language

The film was dubbed in French and Spanish.

3 : to make a new recording of (sound or videotape already recorded) also : to mix (recorded sound or videotape from different sources) into a single recording"

There is a slang term, "dubby," which refers to any overdub that is comically jarring and obviously a dub. The history of dubbing has been such that this has become a way to think of and recognize it: by how awful and ineffective it used to be when it came to foreign films sloppily overlaid with English dubbing.

However, we are in the midst of an age of networks and companies scrambling to play catch-up, eager to use modern technology to create more effective, convincing dubs. In short, they see the moneymaking potential of presenting finished works that viewers may not even realize *are* dubbed without careful inspection. It's true that a good dub is about 10x more costly than subtitling, but it's hard to satisfy the viewer's desire for escapism if they can't suspend disbelief because they're busy reading.

The truth of that is reflected in internal statistics Netflix (for instance, but not just them) parses to gauge viewer interaction and retention with their various shows: when comparing subtitled vs. dubbed shows, it's easy to see which is the winner.(1)

So to be sure there is no nefarious intent here, we would need to be able to identify the following:

A.) What exactly was the process for this dub?

B.) Who decides what changes to make during a dubbing process?

C.) Who approves those changes?

*Can* there be such a thing as a "rogue translator," as Misha Collins put it? (I am going to clarify here that I think Misha is an upstanding person who believed the best of the show he was involved in and all the people who made it, so his assumption of a rogue translator makes sense in the context of that emotion-based reasoning).

I'm not sure which studio did the dub for the Latin American Spanish version of Supernatural; if I had access to that episode perhaps it's mentioned in the credits. You'd think that would be simple enough to figure out anyway, but I was unable. So maybe someone can take a look and let me know. But, as an example, here is how SPGStudios outlines their localization (dubbing) process:

1.) They make a digital or analog transcription of a show/movie.

2.) The translation, or localization, is done by their staff (in any of 40 available languages their staff can speak). When translating, they translate for meaning and then adapt for time, tempo, and style. They say that "extensive experience is required to capture the essence of the language dialog while accounting for variances in speaking time between the source and destination languages." i.e.,  wording/word choice will be kept as true as possible to the original intention of the native language, but at the same time the translation will need to use its chosen wording in a way that fits what is being shown on-screen. To produce a convincing/pleasing dub, they won't replace a word like "looked" with a longer phrase like "scanned the horizon" because it's not going to match what's onscreen. That would be venturing into "dubby" territory.

3.) They perform the ADR process: the voice actors (in this case it would normally be Guillermo Rojas performing for Dean Winchester, though it appears things may have been different in 15x18, possibly due to covid) record the new dialogue to replace the original actor's performance.

4.) The newly recorded dialogue goes to the sound editorial department "to ensure that lip-synch is optimized and technical aspects of the vocal performance match the original."

5.) All of the new audio--including dialogue, music, and sound effects--is mixed together to emulate the quality of the original production as closely as possible despite the changes in rhythm that resulted from the dialog having been translated.

6.) Designers, animators, and VFX editors assist with the localization or enhancement of graphics, if needed.

7.) Localized Master: SPG has a 'traffic team' who 'ensures that all client delivery and storage specifications are met, including file formatting, labeling, and uploading." So in other words, the files are heavily encrypted (or that's how I read this).

Presumably, after all steps are performed, SPGStudios transfers the show back to Warner, who then distributes it. The other studio, Iyuno, makes it very clear that *they* can coordinate and handle all distribution themselves to a vast number of networks. That means that if the client desires, Iyuno can send the finished product directly out into the world.

There seem to be two types of scripts that can be given to the dubbing company:

1.) "In-Production Dubbing indicates that dubbing production is active in tandem with post production. In-Production Dubbing fulfillment partners should expect potential changes to source materials."(4)

2.) "Final Asset Dubbing indicates that dubbing production takes place after final delivery of the show. All source assets will be in a final state. The dubbing fulfillment partner should not expect any changes to the source materials."(4)

Without knowing which of these was agreed upon for SPN 15x18, it is very hard to say exactly where or if additional edits may have been performed on the original material that weren't performed on the translated material (in other words, earlier draft).

If the studio was given the episode as an In-Production Dubbing project, this could explain why the title of the Spanish translation reflected the original script title, "The Truth," rather than the final title in English, "Despair".

Assuming this difference was unintentional, rather than a calculated marketing ploy re: audience enticement (which seems admittedly unlikely), then yes, it could indicate a screw-up on someone's part. The question is, was the dub company given the task of generating the title card, or did some other graphics department handle that before the project made it to them? If the latter is the case, the choice to add "Me too" instead of "Don't do this, Cas" could be either a conscious choice on the dub studio's part as sort of a nod to what they thought "the truth" was, or could just be them going with what they were given and making their translation choices based on something else, such as rhythm/timing.

SO, could there have been an original script that had Dean say "me too" in response to Cas, which then went through translation and made it out into the world? Teeechnically yes, but one would assume that the original script and original *footage* would have to have arrived at the dub studio together if the script is being transcribed in-house as SPGSTudios outlines in their process. I'm going to reason that the odds of them using a later edit of the visual--one that contained what in this instance we would be assuming was Warner's preferred dialogue ("Don't do this, Cas") yet choosing to stick with their own audio revoicing of the (supposed) original script/visual's "Me too, Cas" with its now subsequently poor timing, seems unlikely.

So either they would likely have to redo the exact same "Me too" audio again (having made the choice to keep the original dialogue, while also having to work under pandemic restrictions re: travel and talent availability) to make everything match the visual footage time-wise, OR, it was simply a matter that the English scene always was just as we saw it, but that the studio chose to interpret the script the way they did and were able to do their timing the first time around to match accordingly.

This still leaves a question in the air regarding the origin and fate of certain clips of Dean's more visually emotive reaction to Castiel's confession that have been floating around the internet. I've only seen very very brief glimpses of them, myself, and I'm not certain that they're really evidence of anything other than more than one take having been done of that scene, which wouldn't be uncommon and doesn't necessarily point to a conspiracy.

I also want to state that in the wake of 15x18, I opted to protect my mental health rather than follow every development/rumor/speculation that cropped up in the aftermath, so there’s probably a lot that I’m leaving out of this post that may be pertinent. Do me a favor and do assume that I know nothing of it. lol

I will also add this about the other studio, Iyuno: they are very careful to state on their site, repeatedly and with great pride, that they are committed to presenting the world with the smoothest, most true-to-the-original localized version of a film or show possible. Quote: "...our entire team of staff wants nothing more than to make every single one of our partner's content feel as if it were never translated." They are not fucking around. They want to please the client. Would they have done something like the translation in question without any direct go-ahead from Warner? It seems unlikely, though they don't outline their process on their site the way SPG does.

Notice that in the SPGStudios process outlined above, there is no mention made of a review step in which the studio presents the translated dialogue to the client for approval re: the new wording. That doesn't mean there isn't a review step; however, without seeing the contractual agreement that was made between Warner and whatever dub studio they used, or knowing Warner's preferred process by some other means, it's difficult to be certain whether or not there was a review process for the translated script. I did find evidence that Netflix reserves the right to review such translated scripts before air.

Speaking of Netflix, I will include here what their translation requirements are, as I did find those. They, like Warner, also use Iyuno Media Group much of the time for dubbing (voiceover style dubbing in which they apparently like to leave the original language audible underneath, so that's slightly different from revoicing, but I'm working on an assumption that the general expectations are the same for both):(4)

"1. Translation Requirements

1.1 Main Dialogue

   All main dialogue in the source (original) language should be translated unless specifically noted.

   Due to timing limitations, some of the dialogue may be condensed/truncated as long as it retains all essential elements of the plot.

   Please refrain from dubbing redundant words such as character names and repetitions.

       Additionally, do not recreate laughs, hesitations, reaction noises, etc."

I'm looking at that bit: "Due to timing limitations, some of the dialogue may be condensed/truncated as long as it retains all essential elements of the plot."

So let's say just for argument's sake that this is pretty standard language provided to the dubbing studios. Netflix is a giant, so I'll proceed with that assumption given the lack of more concrete information:

Does it really change essential elements of the remaining plot to have Dean return Castiel's declaration of love? Forgetting about the outside, emotional ripple effect such a declaration was bound to set off in the viewing audience, no. The two characters have no further scenes together, nor does Dean go on in the next episode to immediately embark on a new relationship, or tell anyone that Cas said he was in love with him but he couldn't return it because he didn't feel the same. So technically, no rule was broken. And that is what it comes down to, if you're thinking like a lawyer reading a contract: specifics, not theoretical implications or consequences.

So, possibly what we have is something that was simple to add and easy to get away with/argue for: translated dialog that fit a dub better due to its length, and didn't actually change anything plot-wise (or at least, the argument for that could easily be made). This points to the painful crux of the matter: why would the Spanish version of Supernatural which aired in Latin America allow Dean Winchester to return Castiel's declaration of love with a "Me too, Cas"? Could it *really* be as insulting as the fact that "Yo a ti, Cas" would be a quicker, smoother dub than "No hagas esto, Cas"? ("Don't do this, Cas" in English.) Or did they see something they could get away with, and a reasonable argument to provide for it, so they went ahead and claimed a small LGBT+ victory?

Is someone, somewhere, getting in trouble for all this? Maybe. But could action be taken against them? That would look pretty bad, public-relations-wise, for the party expressing condemnation if that got out. Could Iyuno, or whatever other studio (again, I don't actually know which one handled the dub) theoretically feel a ripple effect from the fallout of this? Could they quietly suffer a drop in acquisitions/revenue for "reasons unclear"? Sure. That sort of thing happens all the time, so theoretically yeah.

Whatever the reasoning behind the decision to have Dean return Cas' declaration of love, surely they didn't have to do it. Surely they could have chosen some other phrase that fit. But they chose to do exactly what they did. I don't know what went down, in the end, or whether censorship was indeed involved, but I will certainly say that I think it was a brave and admirable choice that was made with the Spanish dub. It doesn't undo the "bury your gays" trope of course, but for some LGBT+ audience members it surely provides a sense of validation and maybe even lends a little hope for better representation--which is long, long overdue.

Thanks if you read this far. I hope that even though it’s not perfect it will be helpful in some way.

Sources

(1) https://www.indiewire.com/2020/02/subtitles-vs-dubbing-what-you-need-to-know-1202212800/amp

(2) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_CW

(3) https://www.iyunomg.com/

(4) https://partnerhelp.netflixstudios.com/hc/en-us/articles/115016062708-Dubbed-Audio-Style-Guide-VO-Style-Dubbing

(5) https://www.spgstudios.com/localization

[raviposting]

Hey guys! I have a fic that’s based off of @niamaggie ‘s prompt list, the prompt is as follows: 

Prompt: There’s more to Alex’s story with his family outside of what Luke said. They don’t just disapprove of him, they outright pretend he doesn’t exist. It gets to a point where he completely breaks down in the studio after having a bad practice day (the kind of day where nothing is going right). Being a ghost, is like what his family did to him, but on a much bigger scale. It’s much harder to deal with...Just want the band to comfort him, please.

Huge thank you to @superbandnerd99 for beta-reading! I’ve tagged people under the cut who liked my excerpt post; please let me know if you want to be untagged!

Crossposted to AO3 (properly formatted here) 

Fic:  Ghost in the Family 

Alex had told himself that he was going to be fine being in his old home. It was fine. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t stepped foot in the house in twenty-five and a half years. It was fine. It was fine. 

Sure, his stomach was twisting in knots and he felt like his heart could beat out of his nonexistent chest - actually, wait. Could it do that? He still wasn’t sure how much their new solidity worked and the thought of his chest literally beating out of his chest was almost as terrifying as the thought of stepping back into his family home was. 

Okay. He was doing it again. Spiraling, as Julie liked to call it. Or totally wigging out, dude, as Reggie liked to call it. Or haha, wow, look at this dude lose it, guys, as Carlos liked to - okay. Alex sighed, shaking out his hands and staring at his house. It hadn’t changed a bit over the past 25 years, save for a new white mailbox with an American flag emblazoned on the side. Alex couldn’t remember their old one, but he was pretty sure it was better than that. 

He walked up the steps slowly, each step closer feeling like another step towards his doom - which was dumb, of course, he had been the one to say he wanted to just check up on his parents, he was the one who told the rest of the band and Willie (and Carlos, who followed them around everywhere he physically could) to not come with him, he was the one who got it into this head that he needed to see his family again. 

He closed his eyes and took three deep breaths, trying to center himself. Relax, he told himself. They can’t see you. You’ll be fine. He breathed in deep again before opening his eyes and ringing the bell. 

The door opened, and Alex looked at the woman in front of him. “Mom?” he asked - a stupid question, because she was looking right through him and obviously wasn’t going to answer, and because if this woman was mom, she would have to be a ghost too. He squinted as the realization hit him. “Lizzie?” he asked this time. 

His sister looked around in confusion, for a millisecond looking right at him, and when he heard an old woman’s voice ask who was there, his sister shrugged and said, “Doorbell must be on the fritz.” 

Alex slipped in before she closed the door, and stared at the place he used to call his home. 

It hadn’t changed a bit. Well, it had changed a little since the day he had left. They had stripped away the carpet and there was a mahogany floor now. Alex wondered when that had happened. Certainly after he had left. He remembered the carpet covered with bits of glass after his father had thrown the family photos on the floor with such a force that the frames had cracked. Alex could remember the stony silence as he had stood there, staring at the pieces of glass glistening on the carpet, barely registering Luke’s hand on his own as he pulled him out the door. He had mumbled something about his clothes, only for Luke to say he had grabbed some, but when Alex was in the backseat of Reggie’s car looking through the duffel Luke had packed, the David Bowie sweatshirt he had borrowed from Reggie hadn’t been there alongside his favorite puka-shell necklace and Alex had tried to tell himself that it was okay even as the tears had run down his face and the pressure in his chest tightened so much that he felt like he was going to choke. 

Maybe that was his unfinished business, to give Reggie his shirt back? He wondered if it was still around, somewhere, but his thought was interrupted when he felt his sister walk through him. God, what a weird thing to experience, Alex could always feel people’s emotions when they passed through and it unnerved him whenever it happened. As she passed through him there was a hint of - anxiety? No, not quite, he told himself. It felt a bit like his anxiety creeping up, but while he would feel like there was something in his chest tightening as it tried to get out, this felt heavier somehow, like a great big nothing that could swallow him whole if he let it. But there was a warmth there too, slow and steady, that let him know without a doubt that this was his older sister. 

He wondered where Nina, his younger sister was, but one look at the family photos on the wall answered his question. An unfamiliar woman was on the wall, side-by-side with a brown-haired man, two smiling babies on their laps. Nina must have moved out ages ago. His eyes flitted to the photo next to it. Nina and Lizzie were there, their arms around an older woman with long graying hair and an old man with his mouth set in a straight line but a smile in his eyes. The family photos littering the staircase didn’t seem to have him on it at all, just photos of Lizzie and Nina and his parents. It was as if every trace of him was gone from their lives, down to the pictures. 

Two figures walked down the stairs, and Alex backed up quickly, giving them a wide berth. He knew they could pass through them and could already hear Reggie and Luke’s voices in his head reminding him that he was a ghost, it was fine, but the thought of Alex’s parents passing through him made Alex feel sick in a way that he couldn’t quite explain. He followed his parents as they sat down in the living room, his mother on her phone and his father turning on the television to watch some sitcom. His mother leaned towards his dad, showing him something funny on her phone, and the two laughed, and when Lizzie came over and peered at the image and joined in, the sounds mixing in with the canned laughter of the unseen audience from the sitcom. 

Alex tried peering over their shoulders to peek at the phone, but his dad’s frame kept blocking his view. “Just move for a second,” he said absentmindedly to his dad. “I want to see.” 

His father, of course, didn’t respond, and then the phone was put back into his mother’s pocket, Lizzie went towards the kitchen, and the house was quiet, besides the commercial about some discount furniture store playing on the screen. Alex stood in front of the television, watching his parents look through him. He would accompany Luke and Reggie to see their families from time to time. Luke’s parents always walked around like living ghosts, as if a little bit of the light had gone out of their eyes. Reggie’s would laugh and smile but stare off into the distance when they thought nobody was paying attention. 

Mom looked a little bored. Dad yawned. 

Alex felt the crushing anxiety switch to a feeling similar to anger, and it welled up in him as he slammed the wall in frustration. At the last second, he thought, No, maybe I should just phase through but his hand was already making contact and he could only soften the blow, making just a sad pitiful thump on the wall. 

His mother’s eyes went to the wall and furrowed in confusion, but his father waved his hand. “Bird probably hit the window again,” he said, and his mother shrugged, turning her attention back to the screen. 

“I - okay,” Alex sighed, the angry-adjacent feeling gone. He suddenly felt tired, and he walked out the door, leaving his unaware family behind. 

He moved past the people strolling down the sidewalk, narrowly avoiding bumping into people as he walked by. “Excuse me,” he muttered as he moved around a group of kids riding their bikes. He sidestepped one house’s sprinkles a second too late and he flinched slightly as the water shot out towards him until it passed through him and he sighed. Right. Ghost. 

It wasn’t until he had gotten to the garage door that he realized he could have just poofed home, and he blinked back tears. He couldn’t even be a ghost correctly. He squared up his shoulders and tried to make his face as light and casual as possible, and he poofed inside, where the band was already setting up for their next practice. 

“Alex!” Julie said, lighting up, though her eyes filled with concern when she saw his face. “Are you okay?” 

Well. There went light and casual. Yet another thing Alex couldn’t do, apparently. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Alex said, though even to himself it sounded like an obvious lie, but besides Luke and Reggie sharing a look that they thought he didn’t see, there were no further comments, and Alex sat down in front of his drums. 

Practice was a disaster. 

Alex tried staying on beat, but with every measure of the song, a new memory would come to him. 

Him locking eyes with Luke whenever Luke would turn during a performance, the way his heart would flutter when Luke winked at him.

Stuttering out a confession to Luke, only for Luke to lean in and kiss him on the lips, Alex staring at Luke and asking, “Does - does that mean you like me too?” 

Him telling his parents that he was gay, watching his father’s eyes glass over and just...getting up, ignoring Alex’s frantic, “Dad?” 

Of the one time his Dad had acknowledged him in months when he said he liked that young man Luke in his band, something that Alex thought was Dad was secretly telling him that he knew they were dating and was proud, and that they could tell him, that he was finally ready to see Alex. 

When his father slammed all the family photos and threw them on the ground, and Alex realized he had been so desperate for acceptance that he’d misunderstood his father’s comment, which meant nothing. Just like him. 

Him breaking down in the garage one month into living there, telling Luke that he didn’t think he could do this, any of it, and the hurt in Luke’s eyes before he told Alex that he had to do whatever was best for him. 

Alex was aware that the band had stopped playing and were staring back at him, concern clear in their eyes. 

I can’t even get it together for my band, he thought, and he threw his drumsticks down in frustration. They were moving towards him, and Alex felt the crushing feeling in his chest again except ten times stronger and the tears that had been threatening to flow ever since he had entered his parent’s home were now freely streaming down his cheeks. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Julie said, and he felt three pairs of arms around him. “Tell us what’s wrong,” she said. “Don’t keep it in.” 

“I never gave you back your sweatshirt, Reggie,” Alex sobbed into what he thought was Reggie’s chest. 

“Uh, well, that’s fine,” Reggie said, a bit of confusion mixing in with his sympathy. “All of you always stole my clothes. I’m pretty sure Bobby’s still wearing my jeans, which honestly? Super dumb. We’ve been dead for 25 years, what’s his excuse for wearing the same clothes?” 

Alex laughed, and the group broke their hug, smiling along with him. Julie’s arm was on his back, Reggie still had his arm around Alex’s waist in a semi hug, and Luke was holding onto Alex’s hand. Alex looked down at their intertwined hands and then back at Luke, but instead of withdrawing, Luke simply squeezed his hand. 

“I’m guessing the family visit didn’t go so hot?” Reggie asked. It was blunt, but his tone was kind and he unconsciously gripped a little tighter onto Alex’s waist. 

“No,” Alex admitted. “I haven’t been there since...well you know, since I left, and it just…” he trailed off, not knowing how to continue. 

“Did it remind you of the day you left?” Julie asked, rubbing small circles on his back. His mom used to do the same for him as a kid whenever he came home sobbing because he messed up a performance or had answered a question wrong in class. The motion made him feel safe and comforted, even as it caused a heavy ache to spread across his chest. 

“No,” Alex said, wiping at his tears. “Or, kind of. It was definitely part of it, but being there just reminded me that…” he trailed off again, trying to think of the words.

Alex had hated the day he had left, but a sick part of him had been relieved when his father had thrown down all their photos and raved at how upset he was, at his mother sitting on the couch massaging her temple, saying that she was disappointed. 

It had been awful, but nothing compared to the months before. Throughout the day it was bearable - they all had their own things going on and it was easier to pretend like everyone was just busy instead of actively ignoring him - but whenever they sat down to eat was always the worst. Only Lizzie and Nina would be asked questions about their day and Alex would have to grab a plate because there were only four set on the table. Nina was so little that she thought it was a game and she’d grin with delight every time Alex asked for someone to pass the salt, giving her the chance to ask, “Did you guys hear something?” and lighting up every time their dad said, “No, I don’t think I did.” Lizzie would sigh at it and pass it to him, but even with her distaste at the petty shunning, she still wouldn’t look at him. He had asked her once, to look at him, and she had said, I am, all the while avoiding eye contact. 

“Me being a ghost and me being alive is the same thing,” he finally said. “That’s what it feels like. Every song we had was stolen by Bobby, nobody sees me if Julie’s not around, and there’s not a single picture of me up back home.” He gave a humorless laugh as a thought came to him. “I always felt like a ghost in my own home, and now I literally am.” 

“No, you’re not,” Luke said. 

“Well, you are a ghost,” Reggie added, and Julie nudged him. “Ow, what?”

“Okay, well you’re a ghost, true,” Luke amended. “But this is your home.” 

“And we see you,” Julie said. 

“And Willie, Flynn, Carlos, and Ray now too,” Reggie chimed in. “You may be dead, but your social life has never been better.” 

“And I don’t know how yet, but I will find a way to make sure everyone else can see you too,” Julie said, moving her hand from his back and holding on to his other free hand. “Not just when we’re performing. Always.” 

Alex looked into her eyes, wide and earnest, and he nodded. “Okay,” he said. It didn’t encompass what he thought - that he knew without a doubt that Julie was telling the truth, that she’d spend the rest of her life figuring out how to do it, that even if she couldn’t it still meant the world to Alex that she was going to try, no matter what. 

Luke spoke next. “And they may be your family on paper,” he said in the same carefully gentle voice he always used when he spoke about Alex’s family. “But we’re your family too. You’re our family.” 

“Nothing is ever going to change that,” Reggie said, and he got up. Alex looked up at him, expecting a mini-pep talk, but Reggie’s eyes filled with tears and he tackled Alex into a hug, knocking Alex back, chair and all. Julie and Luke shrieked as they fell backwards with him on the floor. 

Alex laughed and sat up (not easy, with Reggie still clinging onto him, but he got it done). He wrapped his now free hands around Reggie. “Okay, okay,” he said. “I know. We’re family.” 

“We definitely are,” Luke said, practically throwing himself onto the both of them and enveloping them both in a hug. 

Alex smiled at the two of them and then looked over at Julie, who had sat up and was smiling at the group, an unsure look on his face. 

“Julie,” Alex said lightly, “I think I need one more person hugging me to feel better.” 

She rolled her eyes, but the smile grew and the unsure look in her eyes disappeared, and she joined in on the group hug. 

The garage doors squeaked open, and Alex heard a sigh. 

“You guys are having another crying session?” Carlos asked, and the group broke apart.

“No,” Luke said, wiping at his eyes. 

“Sure,” Carlos said in a voice that yelled, I definitely don’t believe you. “Well, when you’re done not crying, Dad said it’s time for dinner, so hurry up.” 

With that, he was gone, and Julie got up from her spot on the floor. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go have dinner.”

“Your dad remembers we’re ghosts, right?” Luke asked. 

“Nuh-uh, not this argument again,” Julie said, struggling and failing to keep her face serious. “You remember what Dad said last time you said that, family time -” 

“-is family time, whether you eat or not,” the rest of the boys finished, and Julie grinned.

“Exactly,” she said. “So come on.” 

“Just give me a second,” Alex said, and at the worried looks from his bandmates he gave them a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, don’t worry. I just want to clean up the equipment a bit and then I’ll be in.” 

Reggie patted him on the back and then he was out the door, yelling that he wanted to sit next to Ray, while Julie laughed and trailed after him. Luke reached over to squeeze Alex’s hand, and then he poofed away. Alex could already see Ray jump as Luke poofed into his usual seat next to Reggie and Julie, and Carlos’s eyes light up at the sight. They’d have the gluten-free-paleo-whatever tía Victoria had brought over for the week and Julie would absentmindedly pass him the salt to season his food. They’d say grace, and Ray would say thanks for the wonderful five kids in his house, something that had thrown Alex off the first time he had heard it but was grateful for each time. Afterwards, Carlos would show them some of those ghost hunting shows he liked to watch on you-tune or whatever - maybe Willie could even come by, if he was free, and they’d all circle around the screen and laugh as one of the guys fell over himself with every random noise. Julie would video call tía Victoria, who’d fawn over her niece and nephew and ask about the rest of the band, talking about how she had just seen yet another new performance of theirs and had loved it. 

Unbidden, an image of his sister and her family popped up in his head. It occurred to him, briefly, that he never got to see Nina and his nephews or nieces, wherever they were. Maybe he’d try again, this time bringing his entire family along. They never made the crushing feeling in his chest go away, but it didn’t feel like it was choking him and they made everything all the more bearable. Maybe he could go visit, he thought, getting up from the floor. Maybe it’d be good for him, maybe it wouldn’t, but they’d face it together and he knew they’d gladly come with him if he asked. Maybe he’d even take another visit to his parent’s house, and try to get closure much like Luke had some time ago. 

“Yo,” Carlos said, reappearing at the door and looking around the room. “You coming?” He stared just to the left of Alex (he was getting better at figuring out where the boys were without Julie, Alex had to give him that). 

Alex tapped his drum cymbal in response and Carlos grinned. “Oh that’s so cool,” he said. “And perfect, because I’m starving.” 

Alex grinned at the younger Molina and followed him out the door, his thoughts of his parents and his sister disappearing into the background. Maybe he’d do it, maybe he wouldn’t. He wasn’t sure yet. 

For now, though, he was going to have dinner with his family.

Tagging: @random-nerd-3 @glgrdsklechhh4 @thewickedandthehufflepuff @isnt-that-wizard @ellicxr @kymwitthaus @starryseavey @kristallbluemchen @fanficfighter @mariechensterntaler @iamtiredofmydreams @rubyblaze22 @speedycubed @tyrantlizard-king

[tonydadisbestdad]

It’s Positive

Peter ParkerxReader

Dad!Tony

Word Count: 1,987

Summary: Pregnant by accident and dad tony finds out

A/N: this is stupid but I wanted to write something dumb so here it is. Sorry if formating it weird. I’m posting from my iPad bc I can’t be bothered to use my computer rn but it would have made it worth it if I had bc I can’t make this look how I want to on “mobile”. Whatever. Also sorry I haven’t written in ages, as some of you know, I work more than 40 hours a week and don’t normally get home until after 8 pm and am tired as hell. But since I’m fiinally quarentining (is that even how you spell that is it even a word?) myself I decided to try some writing instead of watching hours of tik tok videos. Enjoy! Sorry for my rant.

Perspiration collected on your forehead as you rode the elevator. Pain twinges in your abdomen as the pressure begins to become too much.

You had to pee. Of course you had to pee. You drank half a gallon of water when the thought occurred to you.

You ran through the penthouse, clutching your purse protecting the contents from jumping out, praying your bladder would not release it’s contents before you were seated on that throne.

Nervousness overtook you as you shut and locked your bathroom door behind you. You riffled through your bag for the thing you'd just returned from buying.

With shaking hands you unpackaged it.

After waiting the designated time, plus 10 minutes out of fear, you finally worked up the courage to look at it.

Your heart sank seeing the positive symbol. Your 19 years of life suddenly feeling like it all just ended.

You couldn't believe how absolutely stupid you were.

Grabbing your phone from your bag, you sent a text. Knowing you wouldn't be able to have the conversation in person.

“Pete, I got a meeting to get to. Do you got the rest?” Tony asked. They were in the lab, working on another new device.

“Yeah Mr. Stark, I should have it done by the time you get back.” Peter answered.

Tony left with a quick see ya later and was gone. Peter on the other hand returned to working.

Until his phone went off. He saw it was from you and opened it. His stomach dropped. There was no way. You were joking with him. You had to be.

All the message was, was a picture of a pregnancy test box and 2 words. “It’s positive.”

He thought about that one night a few weeks ago that you spent together. It was an event night, both of you required to be there per Pepper.

You might not be of age but that didn’t stop you from drinking and Peter liked to take his off nights to enjoy himself some so he was drinking too and next thing either of you realized your innocent flirting that usually happened turned into high key sexual tension and with nothing to stop it, well you both took advantage of the situation in a deserted bathroom two floors below the event you should have still been at.

And now you were about to pay the ultimate consequence.

Your nerves grew as you waited for a response. You practically shot out of your skin when your bathroom door opened.

“Please tell me this is some fucked up joke,” Peter said, not even caring that he just walked right into your bathroom without even knocking.

“Pete-Peter I-,” you shook your head. “Why would I joke about something like this?!”

“I don’t know!” He wouldn’t meet your eyes as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Retaliation for me fucking you in a bathroom at an event for your dad?”

“That’s all that was to you?” You asked quietly. Things just kept getting better and better. You sat down on the edge of your tub, you wrapped your arms around yourself. You were not going to cry right now.

“I-“ he tried to start but you stopped him.

“It wasn’t conventional or perfect but hell Peter it meat more to me than just a quick fuck.” Before you could even register the tears you were holding back slid down your cheeks. You shifted, your head going to your knees and your hands covering your head. It was getting hard to breathe and his silence was not a reassuring thing.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, sitting down on the floor in front of you. He pet your head.

“What are we going to do?” You sobbed.

“Hey,” he said, tugging you forward so gently, bringing you into his lap. He secured his arms around you. “We’ll figure it out, I promise. We don’t need to have all the answers right now. Okay? Let’s just take this a step at a time.”

“How are you not freaking out,” you asked, pulling back some to look at him.

He finally looked you in the eyes. “I’m terrified,” he admitted. “But I know we can get through this.”

You gave a hesitant nod.

He kissed your forehead and didn’t leave you the rest of the night.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/

The two of you tiptoed around the topic for 3 weeks before you were finding yourselves cornered by your dad.

“What’s going on with you two? You’ve been acting weird for a couple weeks now.” Tony stated. He’d called a team meeting but as soon as you arrived, Peter was already there, you discovered that no one else on the team was arriving.

Peter looked at you, you both knew he was a terrible liar when under pressure like this.

But you? You were a great liar. You learned from the best after all. You arched a brow at your dad. “What do you mean? How have we been acting weird?”

Your dad hummed. “Let’s see, the two of you get all jumpy when the other shows up. I keep catching the two of you whispering to each other whenever I’ve left you alone for a few minutes. There was the fact that at that banquet I had a few weeks ago the two of you disappeared for a while. Y/N you’re not eating normally, Peter everytime I ask you something you either jump out of a daze or I can’t get your attention at all. I can go on guys, so tell me. What’s going on?”

You leaned back in your chair. “Peter asked me out, we didn’t want to tell you, things are a little weird right now.”

Tony looked at you in surprise.

You prayed that as Peter did the same your dad wouldn’t notice or wouldn’t realize that the look he was giving you wasn’t the “oh my God you had to go along that route to avoid the worse one? You shoulda just told the truth and not lied!” Look.

“Oh,” Tony said, nonchalantly he added, “Here I thought you were pregnant.”

Your eyes went wide, fuck.

“What do you take me for, kid?” He asked. “Did you think the cleaning staff was going to not gossip about having found a pregnancy test in your bathroom trash?! That I wouldn’t find out about it?”

You took a shaky breath.

“I know when you’re lying, you can’t lie to the person that taught you to lie, Y/N. It doesn’t work.”

You had to try, “Well then why is Peter here if that’s what this is about?” Maybe you could get him off the hook.

Your dad’s face went blank. “Now you’re just insulting my intelligence. Of course it’s Peter’s! Kid’s been in love with you since before you two even met!”

Peter’s face went red as he twisted the computer chair he was in away from both of you.

You blushed lightly. “Dad stop!”

Tony sighed, finally he sat down in a chair across from you. “What was your plan?”

You glanced at Peter then down at the table. “I… we-we don’t have-have one.”

Tony reached across the table and took your hand in his. “Okay, that’s fine for now, sunshine. Whatever you decide, I'll support you. There’s options if you don’t want to keep the baby or if you do. I suggest though that you two figure out what this means for the two of you before you make any of those decisions first.”

Tears welled in your eyes.

Peter was looking off to the side but he had returned his chair to facing your dad. “Thanks Mr. Stark,” He added quietly.

Tony smiled at him. “If you hurt my daughter, Parker I will kill you and no one will find the body. Understand?”

Swallowing the sudden lump in his throat he nodded in response.

Tony stood, he leaned across the table and kissed your head. “Sorry I forced this out, but you two were driving me crazy. I’m here when you want to talk more baby girl.”

You nodded and wiped at your face.

Your dad left, leaving you with Peter and impending conversation about the child growing inside you and what your futures held.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/

“So,” Peter started after the two of you sat there for 10 minutes in silence after your dad left. “I… I think now would be a good time to have this conversation, Y/N. So, I’m gonna just lay everything I’m feeling about this out.”

You glanced at him, he’d scooched closer to you and faced you.

He took a breath and started. “Your dad wasn’t wrong. I… do love you. I just… this is all messed up, but you know, it’s me why would anything go the way it should go, right?”

You went to speak but he continued.

“I’m not ready to be a dad. But I’m willing to take the responsibility because of my actions if you want to keep this child and want to raise them together. Or if you want to do it on your own. Or if you want to give them up for adoption. Or just want me to-“

You turned your own chair to be facing him and wrapped your arms around his neck.

He relaxed some and hugged you back as best he could with the angle.

“Would it be alright if… if maybe we just start with a date first?” You hesitantly asked.

He let out a sigh of relief. “Yeah, yeah please.”

“I don’t want to get rid of them. But with that being said, we have plenty of time to decide on what we want. And I just really want us to give being together a try before we make any life changing decisions.”

Peter nodded then kissed your cheek.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Of course your date went perfectly. As did the one after that, and the one after that and the, you get the point.

Peter went with you to your first doctor’s appointment and made sure he’d be there for all of them after that.

After that first ultrasound, well to say your minds were set on a decision was an understatement. You couldn’t believe you were so hesitant to want them.

Everything after that was a blur. You and Peter got closer, as did your expecting date.

Your dad and Pepper supported both of you the entire way. As well as Aunt May and the entire Avengers team.

You couldn’t have asked for more.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/

“Shh,” You whispered to the little girl. She giggled and held a tiny finger to her lips. The two of you poked your head through the cracked door.

A tuft of wavy brown hair stuck up everywhere from the pillow.

“Go ahead baby,” You whispered.

The little girl pushed the door open and ran for the bed. She jumped up, right on top of the man laying there. “Happy birthday, daddy!” Shouted as she sat on his back and shook his shoulders. “Wake up! Wake up! Mommy and I made you breakfast.”

You got into your side of the bed, set the plate down on your nightstand as Peter pretended to still be asleep.

He let out a loud fake snore.

“Daddy, wake up!”

You chuckled. “I think daddy might need some raspberries with his pancakes, Rory.”

Her eyes lit up. She smashed her face right into her daddy’s neck, making him flinch and laugh.

“Oh my I see how it is my girls wanna play games with me huh,” he scooped his little one up in his arms and raspberries her cheek before she could get away.

Rory squealed and struggled against him.

You laughed at the scene before you. But this caused both to stop, share a mischievous look before they’re both pouncing on you and giving you the raspberries now.

Which led to a full out tickle war, cold pancakes, and warm morning cuddles.

Tags: Wanna be tagged just ask!

@manchurian-barnes, @marrvelle-fics, @chloe-geoghegan1 , @buckysendoftheline ,

@peterparkerscamera , @esistmon , @httpmcrvel , @karlitabi-rrito rrito, @ximaginx

[litakino]

I was asked by @floraone​ about my personal experience about Sailor Moon, so enter at your own risk, it’s a reaaaaaaally long post. There’s a lot of ramblings, and some pictures 😅

Alright, some context. I'm from Buenos Aires, Argentina, 31 yo, born in 1988. When I was a kid (7 or 8 y/o), during the summer break (which is December - March on this side of the equator) I attended what in Arg is called "colonia", which essentially is going on the weekdays to a club or school, meeting with other kids, and doing sports and going to the pool, supervised by teachers. It's the place your parents sent you in the summer in place of regular school, because they had to work. All this to say, I started watching Sailor Moon on TV after these summer classes.I came rushing home, and while one of my parents fixed me lunch, I would turn on the TV to watch an episode of Sailor Moon.

I found it! Thank you, internet. It aired from 1996 to 1998, first in a channel called "The Big Channel" and then in "Magic Kids" https://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Magic_Kids If you go to the 1996 seccion in "cronologia" you'll see the mention of Sailor Moon being aired for the first time.

People my age, from my country, who had access to paid cable TV will remember these logos fondly:

About the dub: Some of the names were changed for the latin american version. Rei and the outter senshi stayed the same, but Mamoru was called Darien, Usagi was Serena, Minako was just Mina, Ami was pronounced Amy, and Makoto was Lita (hence my handle, Lita Kino). I believe these names were the same as the English translations. Well, also, no one called them "senshi", instead they were "guerreras de la luna" (moon warrior, in it’s feminine form). Also, they were called "Sailor Scouts" (yes, in English), but I have no idea where this came from, probably from the English version? Oh, and The Dark Kingdom was called "Negaverso", also no idea where they got this name.

Also, it's worth noting, when I say "latin american version", I mean that usually, voice overs are made in a neutral voice? accent?, that it's not from any particular american spanish speaking country. So it's not Mexican, nor Chilean, nor Argentinian, but a mix of all of them, and not one of them in particular. We all have a specific way of speaking the spanish language, not the meaning per se, but kind of the sing-song quality of the tongue. So, to spanish speakers, someone from Venezuela and Colombia sound really different, even if we all understand what is being said. So most movies and series in latin america are usually "voiced-over" in a way that will sound native to no one, and "neutral" to all. (These are not made for Spain, that voice-overs are made in a distinctive spaniard accent)

About censorship

Recently, I've read about some episodes that were cut or smashed together in the english dubs, and from what I've read that was censored, that never happened in the Latin American versions. I know that Michiru and Haruka were made to be cousins in some translations, but not in the latin american one. Though I know their dialogue was often modified and "softened" to imply their relationship, instead of saying it front and clear (this was modified in the Crystal dub, that they are more literal and use the word "novia", meaning girlfriend, in a romantic context). The only outright censorship the classic anime had, as far as I know, was making Zoisite a woman, dubbed by a woman voice actor.

Daily life? Back then

In regards to my friends at that time, I know most of them were aware of Sailor Moon as a series, but I don't remember any of them being big fans.

There were tons of SM merch like school supplies (pencils, backpacks and such), but I don't think most of it was officially licenced. This is an example of a fannypack from around that time, that I found in an online market page:

Oh, a really really cool thing we had was these magazines that came monthly (starting in 1996), that had a bunch of cute articles about the series and characters, a central page with a "poster", and a comic version of the anime series (that's based on a manga, yeah, I know 😅) With these magazines sometimes came the movies in VHS format, and this is how I realized the movies existed. Also, there was this book called "the friendship book", that had a bunch of quizzes and questions to write about your friends, all SM themed. Oh, I also remember it had a brief explanation of the "I Ching", and a simplified version to "play" with your friends, and try and predict your love life. I have no idea where my copy is, it's possible I lost it :(

Here’s the short comic in one of the issues:

I believe we had the manga, translated to spanish, and flipped so it would read from left to right, but honestly I was too little to care about it, so I can't give you a detailed description of the manga story in this country. I only have only one edition from that time, that I bought when I was little, a 1998 Spanish (from Spain, not Latin American) edition of "The Lover of Princess Kaguya". I was little so please don't judge me, but I found that this "comic book" (as I saw it at that time) being in black and white was the perfect place for me to practice colouring so yeah. I defiled it 😅:

About Crystal, I just found out it was dubbed in latin american spanish, I never knew  It was never aired in Argentina as far as I know. Turns out, some of the voice actors are the same that did the original series, mainly Usagi / Serenity / Queen Serenity / NQS (whose voice actor is the same that dubbed Lisa Simpson in the LA version of The Simpsons xD)

You can find more info, in spanish, in this page: https://doblaje.fandom.com/es/wiki/Sailor_Moon_Crystal  

I have no idea about an Argentinian fanbase, though I'm sure there are tons of fans here. As I said, none of my school friends were particularly fond of the series, but as I grew up, I found tons of people who love SM as I did. Specially in the conventions world, there a lot of fan-made goods.

In regards to daily life nowadays, as a lot of my friends now are small-shop owners, and entrepreneurs, I've come to know and love a lot of people who make art for a living, sometimes SM related. Here are some of my favourites:

This is my favourite tattoo artist in the world. She’s an AMAZING ilustrator too. Would you look at that half sleeve? 🖤🖤🖤  https://www.instagram.com/bazanjara.tattoo/ Also, if you want to see the tattoo she did on me: https://www.instagram.com/p/Bykswm4AoWm/

She makes everything piggy  🖤🖤🖤 https://www.instagram.com/mundochanchan/ https://www.instagram.com/chanchanglobal/

She makes tons of stuff in air dry modeling clay https://www.instagram.com/poteitos.cosaslindas/

He’s an ilustrator, sometimes makes pins and sticker with his art. It may look cute, but most of what he draws is scalotoglyc humor 🤭🤭🤭 https://www.instagram.com/brunancio/

I even had some friends make me a SM mate 🇦🇷:

In regards to SM being a big LGBTQ+ representation, I know Haruka and Michiru are big parts of that here as well. I know someone who has Neptune and Uranus' symbols tattooed as a nod to that part of her identity, for example.

I'm sure there's a lot more to SM in Argentina, but this is as far as I know. Hope it helps!

[thatssokatsuki]

What We Had | Katsuki Bakugo x Reader

Pairing: Katsuki bakugo x Reader Song: Sody - What We Had Summary: Katsuki is left awake to recount his former relationship with you. Thinking of what was. Warnings: Angst, potential fluff, post-breakup heartbreak, cliffhanger

A/N: I?? Actually really like this, having been my first fic in quite a while,, maybe i should write a part 2 of this?? Y’all will have to let me know! (also, in this fic, alongside, many others, the characters are most likely going to be aged up) as a bonus side note, If you’re on mobile, I’m so so so sorry, not all of the formatting is crossing over ㅠㅠ

It's like the t-shirt that I'm never gonna wear again But I can't throw away

Another sleepless night graces Bakugo as he wakes up from another nightmare. He tosses and turns trying to get comfortable again, but your absence becomes very apparent yet again. His relationship with you had ended only six months ago, but everyday (and every night) it becomes obvious just how much he truly needed you in his life. He sat up and looked around his room for a moment, hoping that this was all just a nightmare, that you would walk back into your formerly shared room wearing your favorite shirt of his, brandishing a glass or two of water since you could tell when he wasn’t sleeping well. He shook his head, knowing that it was just a fantasy. You wouldn’t be coming back and he was well aware of that.He sighed as he stood up, walking towards his dresser and pulled out the very shirt you used to always wear and clutched it to his chest tightly, wishing he was hugging you instead. He barely took it out since you left, the memories still being to fresh in his mind, but it was nights like this.. where he needed you most, that allowed the shirt to see anything but the inside of his drawer. 

And I can't stand the thought of not talking to you one day Forgetting our old ways

He sat back down on his bed, shirt in hand. His tears threatened to greet him once again, as much as he had tried to ignore them. His phone lit up at that moment, grabbing his attention. The notification itself wasn’t anything important, but yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen. His lockscreen adorned one of his favorite pictures of you. Kirishima had taken is just at the moment you and Katsuki had shared your first kiss. He remembered how shocked you were at first, and then how much love he felt from you as you relaxed into it, and every kiss you shared after it was always just as passionate and soft. Unable to stop himself, he unlocked his phone unsure as to whether or not he should text you. Hell he’s honestly surprised you haven’t blocked him yet, but thats not a chance he’s willing to take as he begins to think over it more. He ends up just re-reading your old texts, painfully noticing how different your tone was after the break-up. Before it was warm and loving and bright, and now all your texts are laced with hopeful hellos and empty how have you beens. 

We had to say goodbye

His regrets bubbled up in his mind. He knew he had screwed up. He knew he had to try harder, but at the end of it all, it was too little too late. He was so preoccupied with his own desires that he devoted all his time to his work, so you had decided to do the same yourself, hoping the extra work load would take your mind off of your missing boyfriend, however that didn’t become evident to him thats what was happening until the end. When you finally sat him down to talk. The sad part was, he was so scared of losing you, that he ended up just pushing you away. It was by no means an argument, when it ended, but it sure as hell hurt as much as one. He knows now that things probably couldn’t have been salvaged, that in order for him to realize his own mistakes, that things had to end. 

I know I'm being selfish and I've got no right But I can't help thinking about you tonight And I don't wanna say it 'cause I know it's bad But I don't want somebody having what we had

I know I'm being stupid but I just can't stop Thinking that you're with somebody and I'm not And I don't wanna say it 'cause I know it's bad But I don't want somebody having what we had

He finally gets up the courage to at least check your instagram, hoping to only find posts of you and Ochako or Momo or even Mina. Hoping that you didn’t go back and delete all your old posts together. Hoping that you, too, couldn’t let go of the memories of your relationship with him. But sometimes what we hope for isn’t what we get. He’s met with selfies of you snuggled up to Deku, and he can feel rage making its way to the forefront of his emotions. Out of everyone you could’ve been with, why on earth did it have to be Deku. Before he threw his phone across the room, though, he noticed one word stand out. It was nothing big, it wasn’t accentuated, it wasn’t special.. but it made him take a second and pause. The simple word that would mean nothing to most, but everything to him, was at the bottom of your bio. “Single.” He said, having to read it outloud in order for it to sink in. He had his doubts because of how close you were to deku in some of your recent photos, because of how much you were smiling,, but it gave him enough courage to tap on the most recent one and at least read the description. A sigh of relief left his lips soon after. “Movie date with my best friend!” it said. You’re phrasing caught him off guard, but your use of the words best friend set his mind at ease. He’s already barely scraping by with not having you around, but finding out you were in a relationship, especially this soon, would absolutely crush him even though he knows full well he no longer has any right to you. 

I've still got the pictures from the memories that we once made Can't seem to let them go I thought that we'd grow old

He exits that one photo and decides to scroll down a bit more, curiosity and hope burning inside of him, he just had to see if they were all still there.It took a while, you posted a lot since the break up, but he was finally met with a picture of you both. It was the last one you took together before things turned upside down. The picture showed you both at a park, he was holding you in his lap. You were laughing over some dumb joke you just heard, and he was smiling, face buried in the crook of your neck. This is when the tears finally fell, unable to hold them back anymore. He knew he had to stop looking, the pain practically unbearable, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Nor could he soon stop himself from opening the gallery and flipping through all the photos he had of you. Some showed you sleeping, but in most of them you were smiling, or even blushing. Most of the time it was all because of him, but sometimes one of your mutual friends, or extras as he’d call them, cracked a joke at the perfect time, and he would be able to sneak a picture. It was something he loved to do while you were together, although most didn’t know because he didn’t want everyone to think he was a big softie or anything. But for you? He was whipped, and he loved taking random pictures of you in the moment, feeling whatever it was you were feeling. He loved looking back and seeing your genuine smiles and laughter. 

Down to see you happy But I don't want to see you happy without me

The only thing he missed more than your touch, was your laughter. How you’d snort when he cracked a dumb joke, or the way you’d giggle when he’d make a sassy remark at the characters who danced across the tv screen. He missed the way you would try to hold back your laughter when the bakusquad pranked or teased him, and how you would joyfully pet his hair when he got angry over said antics. He put his phone down, and rubbed his face, sighing into his hands. Realizing that he can probably never hear that anymore, other than when you were doing interviews or any other “voluntary” public showings that all pro-heroes had to do. He wiped his tears away, and tried to choke back the rest of them to no avail. You were so happy with him, and he with you, but now it seems you’re happier without him and that hurt like hell.

We had to say goodbye

He took a deep breath, and stood up. He needed a glass of water to help him calm himself down. He walked to the kitchen, his breathing irregular. Once he finally had a glass full, he took a wavering sip, and placed the glass back down, hoping the feeling of the cool water would help him focus on calming his breathing. This happened a few more times before finally wiping away the remainder of the tears. He left his glass on the counter, wanting to go back and grab his phone. Maybe now that hes calm, he can finally change his lock and homescreen. He sighs again, looking at it, and instead contemplates calling you. Yeah, sure, its 3am, but he needs to at least hear your voice. A knock at the door tears him out of his thoughts. Its in the middle of the night, who in their right mind would be knocking at his door at this hour. He walks over to his front door, unsure of who is on the otherside. Another knock, softer this time, graces his front door, causing him to finally open it. 

[norafinds]

ATWWV - Karolina Żebrowska

It is very exciting for me to click publish on this interview with Karolina. I first spotted her exceptional style on Instagram, but almost immediately found her YouTube channel (which brings me so much joy!). I really wanted to get to know her so I just had to feature her on the Around the World with Vintage series. This lady has a great sense of humour and her vibrant personality really shines through her photographs and videos. She’s definitely one Instagrammer I’m dying to meet because I think we will get along like a house on fire! On top of her great personality I am in love with her versatile fashion choices - she wears anything from Victorian to reproduction and damn she pulls them off really well! 

What did you study in Scotland?

I studied film and specialized in film directing. I did my bachelor on film studies back in Poland, but I was missing the practical aspects of filmmaking.

You said you started wearing vintage when you moved to Scotland, what decades did you start with?

As many people, I started off with being fascinated by 1950s and then realized I enjoy the 1940s styles and silhouettes more. So my wardrobe at the very beginning was sort of a mix of both – turtlenecks and circle skirts, buttoned up blouses with A-line skirts, depending on the mood. I think finding your style when it comes to vintage can be a long and confusing process that many people don’t realize!

Photo by Klaudia Balazy

What decade do you wear day-to-day now?

Now I’m leaning towards the more simple styles of the 1940s. I like going a bit extra every now and then, with hats, heels and matching accessories, but my wardrobe is a mix of original and reproduction/vintage style clothing at this point, so usually it’s not so over-the-top. I also hate heels, which in terms of creating an authentic 1940s look is a little bit tricky!

I know you originally fell in love with 19th c costumes and started making historical costumes, do you also sew other decades? How do you come up with the pattern and the details? Do you think it’s important for your sewing techniques to be authentic?

At this point I pretty much sew whatever I feel like at the moment, though the 19th century is usually a priority. For some reason sewing more modern clothing, such as 1940s style dresses, is much more difficult for me than making, let’s say, a Victorian bustle era dress. It might have something to do with a fact that it’s much easier to find free old patterns, because the copyright have expired and a lot of them are available online. On the other hand, 1940s and 1950s dresses and clothes could often pass as “modern”, so I feel like there’s a big interest in vintage patterns now, which makes it harder to obtain them. That’s why I often improvise when it comes to 20th century patterns, and that is also why it’s more tricky. When it comes to the sewing techniques, I used to choose whatever gives the fastest results (haha), but now I tend to focus more on how the garments were made back in the day. The techniques and tricks they used were usually thought through, often created especially for the particular silhouette, and affected the fit of the garment. That’s why they give you the most authentic results.

How do you find the confidence to wear antique or antique-inspired pieces when you’re out and about? How do people react?

I don’t wear my historical costumes every day, it’s usually only a matter of getting to a particular spot where a historical event/photoshoot/meeting is held, though it does require a bit of courage. It’s always a lot easier when you go around the city with a friend or a group of friends who are also dressed like it’s 1894, because the chances are you aren’t all insane. When I’m on my own though – it get’s a bit tough. My favorite method is pretending there’s nothing unusual with the fact that I need to lift all four of my petticoats when getting on public transport. My resting bitch face usually scares people off quite well, though there are times when strangers are chasing you with a camera without asking for your permission to take a picture. It’s moments like this when I think to myself “Well, this is why you don’t dress like that every day”.

Is there a big vintage community in Krakow and in Poland?

I think it’s growing really fast. I used to recognize most of the people that dressed vintage or were retro/pin up inspired, but there’s more and more of them. Same goes for vintage themed events, vintage shops and fairs and so on. It’s actually very exciting.

How did you decide to use YouTube as your main platform? Do you have any background in video production or acting?

I actually started out with my own blog, just like you – but then gradually realized that YouTube and it’s format fit my needs best. I had some doubts at first, mainly concerning “putting yourself out there” – internet critics can be harsh and while you can pick your best shots for the blog, you’re suddenly becoming very self-aware when on a video. Do I do something weird with my face when I speak? Will they hate my voice? Is my English even good enough? I did some acting, filming and editing back in my high school days, so I had some background, which I think helps tremendously when you’re starting out with YouTube. The thing I’ve learnt though is to constantly stay up-to-date with the newest content, even if it doesn’t have anything to do with what you specialize in.

You successfully inject humor and popular culture into your videos - how did you decide on what kind of content you want to produce and how do you regularly come up with ideas for new videos?

I remember myself a couple of years ago, thinking “I love vintage style, I love the elegance, but there’s no way I could ever be like all those sophisticated Instagram ladies – I’m just too goofy for that”. What I used to think was my weakness turned out to be what some enjoy the most about my channel. They like to see vintage style being “normalized” or “modernized”. All the beautiful models we see on Vogue covers from 50s and 40s can give you a very wrong idea of what these eras looked like. Also, there’s no point pretending it’s not 2019. I can dress up all I want, but I will scroll through Instagram in my 1940s suit, and I will eat a cheeseburger in a Regency dress, because I’m hungry and have no time to change. I think it’s the contrast between the eras I’m talking about in my videos and the fact that I’m doing it now, in the age of memes and pop culture, that makes it all so funny.

When it comes to particular ideas, it’s usually pretty random. I sometimes come up with an idea and write it down on my phone. Then, when I have the time I dig the ideas up. Either that or I just start setting up the camera thinking about what I’ll be shooting today - unless it’s a topic that requires some deeper research or preparations.

Tell us a bit about the process of your video productions? Do you have a regular cameraman or audio person etc.

No, I do everything on my own. I think as long as it doesn’t lower the video quality significantly I’ll keep doing it myself, because working with other people always slows down the whole process. My sister is my camerawoman sometimes when we go outside, and it’s hard enough to work around our schedules. Most of the videos I do are also quite spontaneous. Very rarely I do some actual planning – usually I wake up and think “Hm, it’s been a while since the last video. I should probably shoot something today”.

How did you decide to do YouTube full-time? Does it free up your time to pursue other interests as well? Tell us about your book and any other project!

I never really decided anything, it just sort of lined up with what happened in my life – I just finished my master’s degree, moved back to Poland, didn’t have the slightest idea what’s happening next. But I kept doing the videos, because there were people out there waiting, and after a little while it was enough money to keep me going. To be honest I still see it as a sort of a “side job” – I’m hoping to be still working on other projects while “youtubing”. Last year it was my book on Polish 20th century fashion which I started working on around March and it came out in December. This year I have a couple of things lined up, but I’d rather not say yet. You’ll have to wait and see

Photo by Klaudia Balazy

What is the one thing you’d like the readers to know about you?

That I often dress up especially for my videos. Same with Instagram - I only post pictures of myself when I’ve actually put an effort into my outfit, which is not too frequently. The internet lies, I’m not that fancy every day!

[news-mashable-yahoopartner-blog]

'SighSwoon' merges self-care tips with hilarious memes on Instagram

Scrolling through @SighSwoon on Instagram is the equivalent of picking up a mysterious book at a thrift shop and falling into words that both enlighten and entertain.  

Gabi Abrao, a 24-year-old Los Angeles native, is the mind behind one of Instagram's shiniest hidden gems. SighSwoon showcases self-reflective memes and guides on how to feel things, whether it's simple pleasures or a broken heart. It’s a treasure trove of content tailored for millennials navigating creative lives. 

Sighswoon began in the summer of 2016, Abrao tells Mashable over email. Heartbreak and the desire to make some changes drove her toward the internet as a medium for creating and connecting with others, mainly through memes. With an ever-growing follower count of 62.3K, she's connected with a lot of people.

“When I share a realization online and see that thousands of people are going through the same thing, it makes me feel less alone, less hard on myself. I want people to feel this way too — understood, empowered,” Abrao explains. 

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Reminder that we’re all multi-faceted human beings and inner movements and conditions are subject to change constantly. There is no fixed condition. The more you do and the more you experience, the more understanding you will gain about your many facets and when they show up for you. There is so much to you - your capabilities, your moods, your modes. Being in one mode doesn’t make you in fixed opposition to the the other. There is no forever, there is no never. Fixation is an illusion. Change and shape-shifting is nature. After you understand your modes, you may get close to managing them. The gift of this will be synchronicity and balance. ** (Reposting myself from last October because this theme keeps showing up for me time and time again. Love this truth too much. Happy shapeshifting.)

A post shared by GABI + MEMES (@sighswoon) on Apr 7, 2019 at 6:20pm PDT

The artist uses her platform to offer a plethora of self-care tips, from how to sunbathe ("a secluded location where you can get as naked as possible") to the best ways to "shapeshift," a visualization practice for when you're uncentered. Reading her is kind of like speaking to a caring physician who knows exactly what ails you and then gives you the perfect prescription, free of charge. 

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Three years ago, following a mildly devastating heartbreak, I dragged my mattress and box spring to the very center of the room and said, “I am a lush, self-sustaining island“. I slept in the center of the room for three days. That weekend, I took myself to a local playhouse. A 20-seat theater, the space was tiny and intimate. I arrived alone in a long black dress and proceeded to watch a stubborn man fall in love with an alien. The play was incredible, surprising, I cried. Once home, I felt ready for the luxury of leaning on a wall and shoved my bed back up against it. . . Later, ready for guests and no longer isolating, I thought of myself as a castle in the desert. “Grand for itself, wise for itself,” I wrote in a poem. In this new form, I was rejecting the need for outside validation, especially that of romantic partners. I imagined myself made of stone that remained cool, even at the highest noon. I imagined myself as an abundant whimsical structure in an environment lacking of. Sturdy and welcoming and independent. “Grand when you arrive, grand when you leave,“ I added to the poem. . . In a meditation class in high school, our teacher told us to pick our place. My teacher, who did past life regression on dogs, said, “Pick a place to be in. Just sit there and listen. Make room for visits from animals, insects, spirits.“ I settled for a giant warm boulder in the sun, next to a free-flowing river, surrounded by woods. A buffalo visited me that day, my eyes closed in a classroom. When things are neutral, when things are good, when things are great, I am the boulder in the sun by the river. Or I am laying on it. . . The house cat reminds me to stretch my body and take time in the sun. The house cat makes me not feel guilty for napping too long or staring at the traffic outside. The house cat reminds me to give myself permission to relax and take it slow.

A post shared by GABI + MEMES (@sighswoon) on May 2, 2019 at 7:19pm PDT

With so much to do and see online today, it can be difficult to slow your scroll and ask yourself how you're feeling. Abrao's hyper-aware content offers a mirror with which followers can take a nice, long look at themselves. The focus falls on subjects like self-worth, illusions, success, and creativity. She utilizes extensive captions to explain specific ideas in depth — or even just to describe a sunset.  

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me drinking the sunset on a hill overlooking the city. it’s incredible how some of the most impactful events occur in line with some of the most devastating. sometimes intensity is just intensity. i am living my dreams and aching simultaneously, and i’d be a fool to think this could ever be any other way. dual, shifting, unbelievably fair. i am so happy to still be here. when things feel gigantic, and the imagination builds tall tales to match the sensation, we can always return to water and sunshine.

A post shared by GABI + MEMES (@sighswoon) on Mar 26, 2019 at 3:50pm PDT

“As a teenager, I used to do street art wheat paste posters around the city that said ‘sigh swoon sigh’ on them," Abrao says of her page’s unusual name. "It was a mini poem I made up and attached meaning to, and sharing it like that was a reason to run around and be bad. Years later, the phrase would come back around and feel like the most fitting title for what my page has become.”

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My Higher Self just whispered this to me and I was floored. May we recognize crossfire. May we recognize deliberate, aimed fire. May we protect ourselves first before engaging in any perceived battle.

A post shared by GABI + MEMES (@sighswoon) on Mar 13, 2019 at 9:36pm PDT

The Sighswoon feed is aesthetically pleasing, everything kissed with a tint of beige. It's light and welcoming, which is exactly the way Abrao wanted it. She blames her fascination with the hue on her time spent at the beach: “I was renting a bed and a balcony in a living room for $500/month. The building’s stucco was beige, the cheap '90s carpet was beige, and the sand was beige. I think I just wanted to match everything.” 

SEE ALSO: I don't know who needs to hear this, but these memes are good

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tbt to the longest but purest #vintage #meme wrote this a year ago

A post shared by GABI + MEMES (@sighswoon) on Feb 5, 2019 at 1:40am PST

“The cyborg in me recognizes the cyborg in you,” reads her bio, just above a link to her online store where she sells merch that features the saying on totes and sweatshirts. “It’s a claim to embracing the digital age,” Abrao explains, “the very human-meets-technology existence we all participate in, and are still wearily adapting to.” She admits that while it’s meant to be humorous, she also means it with her “whole heart." 

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my beloved cream crewnecks are now available! i got one sample made for photos are I absolutely adore it. sizes run a little big and on the “men’s” side of sizing. sweaters are made-to-order and will ship within two weeks. link in bio 🏹🏹 p.s. totes are still available in the shop and any orders made today before midnight will ship on thursday morning along with every order placed this past week. love a cozy cyborg

A post shared by GABI + MEMES (@sighswoon) on Jan 29, 2019 at 1:41pm PST

With just about three years of memeing under her (beige) belt, Abrao has figured out the formula for making a solid one.

“A good meme is funny, relatable, insightful, and healing. In that order. You should laugh, then feel connected to the creator or others who understand it, then experience some introspect, then leave with a healed feeling from those three processes,” she muses. Her delivery method varies as she utilizes many different meme formats. 

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ok fine ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

A post shared by GABI + MEMES (@sighswoon) on Feb 5, 2019 at 10:30am PST

Occasionally, Abrao will post pictures of herself wearing interesting outfits made of neutral textiles and glowy silks. These portraits provide a face to the name (as well as maintaining her color-coded image). They also fuel fan encounters at her part-time book store gig: "A few times I have rung up a book, handed it to the person across the counter, and they’re just staring at me, and they say 'You make memes right?'"

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Years ago, I read a passage by an unknown source that said - “When you have an amazing day, take note of what you were wearing, what you ate, who you were with, what you did. Do the same with bad days.” This shirt is my absolute favorite of mine, and I’ve only had good days in it.

A post shared by GABI + MEMES (@sighswoon) on Apr 17, 2019 at 5:11pm PDT

Abrao just wants to help everyone chill out. "I aim for my page to be accessible, empowering, and soothing," she says. And she wants to keep it up for as long as possible. 

"I wish to continue my studies of the invisible and unseen — documenting my findings through paintings, writings, videos, memes, and other art forms," she says. Her end goal is literally out of this world: "I will operate a carousel in the desert some day, and I hope to re-spawn on another planet in my next life." 

In the midst of all the noise that is Instagram in 2019, Sighswoon provides a light-filled digital oasis, a faraway page that's easy to get lost on. Be careful, though. You might just walk away feeling refreshed and renewed. And with an affinity for beige. 

WATCH: Nickelodeon releases official SpongeBob meme figures

[lololollywrites]

thoughts about being 29 on the internet that i just had in the shower...

...and had to write down. they were all basically just about how f**king - NEW. and surreal. the internet, its capabilities, and its fandoms can still be to me sometimes. i feel like i forget this a lot. but when i think about it, i can easily recall my wonder at discovering that it all existed in waves of smaller finds. and because i know there are others like me, i thought i’d share some of my own experiences. because honestly, i’ve had fewer years on tumblr and sites like it than some people much younger than me. i’m catching up and enjoying it.

firstly, i know i’m old to some of you, but i’m not really old. not really. i’m still a millennial, screwed over by student loans and old white men and viewed as part of the technological generation. i’m a phd student, and because i’m always on a college campus, i’ve been mistaken as a freshman. a few times. but it’s been fascinating to witness actual freshman and other college students and consider just how different things are for them and honestly? i’m sort of jealous. 

because...

i can remember when i first discovered that fanfiction existed. i was in third period tech skills as a junior in high school - 16 years old - and got a little off-topic and searched for spoilers for a new supernatural episode. this was in 2005 and the show had just come out (yes i still watch, i can’t escape).

and what did i find? somehow? fanfiction.net. i was, no exaggeration, shocked. i sat and read a full-length chaptered fic in episodic format. my mouth was hanging open. i saw thousands more fics in hundreds of fandoms and suddenly felt less strange for envisioning full-scale episode re-imaginings in my head as i laid in bed, dissatisfied with what i had just watched. (btw, i watched new supernatural episodes the sunday after they used to originally air on the wb on thursdays, at my mom’s house where i had my own room and own tiny tv, because no one at my dad’s house wanted to watch and streaming episodes wasn’t something i could even imagine. plus i didn’t have internet at my dad’s house. i know.)

not only that, but i was impressed as hell. here was me, not even aware that you could somehow upload your own text to the internet, and people were not simply writing polished stories in private but posting them somewhere that allowed for chapters. that allowed for people all over the world to read their words. that categorized everything into a huge virtual library. and, most incredibly to me, that allowed for reviews from people around the world.

i couldn’t believe that this new world was open to me. that people would be so generous as to offer amazing stories to me to read FOR FREE. that i had a limitless supply of content to read and review. i barely had functioning internet at home, so i had been sheltered. i told the people sitting next to me in class about it and encouraged them to check it out, mostly to blank stares. i may have even told the teacher, but no one cared. i didn’t understand. who wouldn’t be interested? i told my dad and my sister about it when i got home from school. i was mind-blown.

months in and many reads and written reviews later, i wrote my first fic. it was for smallville. 6 chapters, with updates every few days, that received 14 reviews in total. i read them all multiple times. i showed my sister. i checked the story stats every half hour. i cried. i wrote on the family computer secretly in the evening when most of my family had gone upstairs, because i was about half a year away from owning my first laptop. i wrote more stories sporadically for about 6 years, gradually getting better, but also gradually becoming more stressed and aware of negativity, online arguments, and the embarrassment and shame i suddenly felt about having an online presence. i found a supernatural forum at tv.com (the forums sadly no longer exist), learned about fandom, and immersed myself in posting and being part of a community that i thought understood me more than my friends. like a secret life.

during my first year of college, in 2007, i was in a friend’s dorm when he asked everyone if we wanted to watch an episode of scrubs. i laughed. surely he was joking. “how can we just watch an episode? it’s not on now and you don’t have the dvds.” i literally didn’t consider that there may have been a way. he excitedly told us that he had found some website that had episodes just... pre-uploaded. and that you could just click. i didn’t believe him. the stress of having to be at the tv at a certain time each week for fear of missing an episode entirely and forever was just part of being a fan, right? buying the tv guide and checking listings was necessary. but he found the episode. and clicked. it only took a few full minutes to load and there it was. again, i was astounded. this memory is so shockingly clear to me. it changed how i spent much of my free time, for one. just that moment.

sometime during this first year of college, i was home for break and came across a video on youtube, this new website i had started to use. it reminded me of ebaum’s world, which my friend would show me at her house sometimes because her computer was faster than mine. it was called “cat soup”, and by two guys that called themselves smosh. it had more views than i could comprehend - probably not much more than 5 digits, but still. they were just two kids i could have gone to school with who could create a funny video and get famous. again, i was shocked. mind-blown.

i showed my sister, my mom, and all my friends. they appreciated it a bit more than the fanfiction, but no one seemed to grasp how incredible and revolutionary it was. they all liked “shoes”, with the kelly persona by liam kyle sullivan (we still quote it today), probably because its budget and effects made it a bit more familiarly professional and it appeared less homemade (though it definitely was). but i couldn’t forget smosh. i was so impressed by them. i watched more videos and eventually found communitychannel and jenna marbles and eviliguana and shane dawson. i even found fan edits for my faves, buffy (maybe i saw one of phil’s, lol) and supernatural and smallville, and tried making my own. i freaked in 2009 or so when fred reached a million subscribers. a million. i couldn’t wrap my head around that. again, i told my sister and friends, expecting them to see the enormity of something so crazy happening, and they just... didn’t.

back in 2008, after watching “stick it” again, i recalled the name of a gymnast my cousin used to always talk about when we were kids - from the 1996 olympics - and looked her up on youtube. i realized that all gymnastics competitions imaginable had been uploaded. again - not to be repetitive - but i was shocked. there’s no better word. i gave myself a thorough education on the sport, traveling through time. i am still so grateful that i was able to do that.

sometime in 2009, my friends started pestering me to create a facebook account. i was a junior in college. 20 years old already. it sounded weird - pictures of me online? why? but i gave into pressure and made one. my mom had never allowed us to make a myspace; we were a bit young, and she hated the idea (now, she’s on facebook more than i am). around the same time i got my fanciest phone yet - an LG Env3. i figured out that it could access the internet and that i could use songs to create ringtones. again, sufficiently mind-blown. considering my first cell phone had been a flip phone with no camera that i shared with my sister during emergencies when i was 13, i felt that technology was coming along fast. 

smart phones were foreign to me for a long long time, until recently actually. i thought they were unnecessary for quite a while. i don’t even remember what phones i had at the end of college and through grad school, but i’m pretty sure they consisted of a series of cheap pay-as-you-go phones from walmart. in 2013, i went to china for a year to teach. i got a cheap phone there and used it for about 7 months. one day, a friend of mine gave me his old htc smartphone because he was getting a new one. i didn’t know how to use it, but i played one app on repeat before class and snapped some low-quality photos. after that, i almost immediately went to indonesia for another 9 months to teach high school (2014-2015). the htc phone died very quickly, so i used the nokia brick phone given to me by the organization. it was fine. i had never even used my old smartphone to access the internet, aside from wechat, thanks to china’s internet blocks. it wasn’t until i got home, in the summer of 2015, that i finally got an iphone. it was a huge deal and a big learning curve. it was also around this time that i found dan and phil and tumblr. i only got my macbook two years ago and finally think i have some things figured out.

so i may be old in some ways and remember floppy disks and the card catalog and using encyclopedias to write my middle school papers and huge computers with black screens and green text that displayed math problems in elementary school. i may be able to remember the sound of ancient, huge printers that used reams of paper with perforated, tearable strips down each side. i may remember aol red, dial-up, and not being able to connect if someone was on the phone. but i can also remember watching technology evolve in front of me, discovering fandom and the huge world of content and friendship that lay ahead. and when people try to say i’m too old to like dan and phil, i remind them that dan and phil can also remember. we’re the same age. i relate to them and their stories. to phil’s buffy obsession. to dan’s love of smosh. i’ve only had about 10 fully-cognizant years here on the internet, and only a couple in the world of tumblr and iphones and mobile apps. i’m young in those ways. and i look young enough that strangers sometimes think i’m a teenager. 

that’s laughable to me in some ways, because i’ve lived so much since my teen years. so much has happened. but in others, i don’t feel much different. there’s no age where you just feel grown up. that your interests vanish. that things suddenly seem childish and dumb. yes, i cringe about some things i wrote or did back then and i think i’ve matured, but my interests are all still relatively similar and i can finally explore them in ways that i just couldn’t before.

i hope that this has made sense. and i hope that some can relate.

[grantfieldgrove]

Your friends want you to fail.

It’s true.

It’s true and it sucks.

But the sooner you realize this, the better off you’ll be. You can set yourself on the course for success while leaving them behind.

That’s exactly what your friends don’t want, but you have the capability to make it happen.

I’m not trying to be negative, but I’ve learned this the hard way.

Let me back up a bit.

Ten years ago I was working a dead end job at a grocery store. I hated it. The pay was crap. The work was crap. Most of the customers were crap. But I had friends!

I was miserable. I had a temper, I was angry about everything. I was bitter that I worked this job I didn’t like when I knew I should be doing better. I was all over social media, posting about everything, even belittling people I didn’t even know by snapping pictures of them and posting them, then enjoying a laugh at their expense.

That’s bottom of the barrel, self-esteem wise.

I would fight with people who held different political beliefs than me, different opinions about religion, or even movies. I was the loud mouth Fred Flintstone type, but I always got laughs. At least some.

It didn’t take long after my son was born to realize that something wasn’t quite right with him. He was extremely delayed and obviously autistic. I blew it off and didn’t believe it, making excuses as to why he was so behind.

We had to enroll him in a special school at age 2. The bitterness grew.

One day I decided to buy an iPad. Just because.

I took it home, unboxed it, and sat on my floor to play with it. But instead of playing games, I started writing.

I literally started writing a novel out of nowhere. It was a hoot. I started carrying a little notebook around work, thinking of plot points. It was great, because when you carry a notebook and pen around while working, people assume you’re working really hard!

Before I knew it, I had a book. I didn’t know what the hell to do with it, but I had one.

I found out you can self-publish books on Amazon, so that’s exactly what I did. I gave it a once or twice over, figured out how to format it, and it was published. And wow, did it have a lot of typos. The story was good, though. Some people bought it and it actually got good reviews. Some friends even bought it, though I doubt many of them read it. But still, it felt good. So I started the second book and finished it in record time. This one was even funnier and I liked it a lot, although, once again, I skimped on the editing.

Shortly before the release of that book, I had a falling out with most of my friends. I had planned a big party in Las Vegas, everyone was going to attend, but it was just a disaster. We had a suite at the Aria, but none of my friends even stayed in the hotel. Not a problem, but they stayed way down the strip at Paris. Then got so drunk at the pool, not a single person showed up. So yeah, I was pissed. And the party wasn’t just for fun, it was a special occasion for my wife. And every one of them let me down. So that’s that. We left first thing in the morning, leaving them all in the dust.

Nothing was really the same after that.

All of this is just specific backstory that doesn’t pertain to you, but the basic elements could. The moral of the story remains the same.

Cut to ten years after I first sat down to write that novel. I now have 11 books, including the first ever murder mystery series for kids, which even, somehow, became the runner up for some award I already forgot the name of. Three of my books have been produced into audiobooks and two have advanced to the semi finals in an Amazon-sponsored fiction contest where out of 10,000, 400 advanced. I’ve gotten positive reviews from Kirkus, and a few other publications.

These are facts that I am proud of. I share these from time to time on social media, although I am still not comfortable with talking about myself.

But, now my friends don’t buy my books. Maybe one or two, not even my “Facebook friends” who were on board at the beginning. The last book published is my favorite. I’m so happy with it and proud of it. I literally tried to give away copies to people I know. I didn’t have a single taker.

I would promote the book being free on Kindle during a particular day or weekend, or whatever, and not a single person would respond to it. I tried to give away Audible audiobooks. Not a single taker.

It’s so bizarre.

Why?

I could understand if the books were garbage. There are a lot of genuinely bad books out there, especially since self publishing has gotten so popular and easy to do. But my books aren’t those books.

I started a small publishing services company, just as a side job to help people out. People who were lost like me when I first started.

My friends didn’t care.

Granted, it’s not very exciting, and with the emergence of “multi-level marketing,” starting a business isn’t that impressive, apparently. (Remind me to tell you about this amazing magical wrap thing! Kidding.)

One thing I forgot to mention earlier, is that I went without Facebook for about a year and a half. I hated it. I hated the fakeness of it. And I was bitter. Bitter that I was trying to better my life, to branch out from a dead end job and try to make something of myself, and I never got any good feedback from it.

My son is severely autistic, he’s ten now and still completely non-verbal. We don’t have a typical life. We have to adapt to whatever life throws at us, and that’s what I was trying to do. My son hated when I had to go to work. He didn’t understand why I had to leave, often in the middle of the night. So I tried to change things.

And still I got nothing. So, bye bye Facebook. Good riddance.

It was weird at first. I still had this urge to let everyone know what I was doing. Like, them knowing would someone validate me doing it. If your Facebook friends don’t know what you do, are you really even doing it?

While I’m typing this, my Facebook is back. But there is a reason. Over the summer, while I was doodling on my iPad, I had an idea. I could put these things on tshirts. I would totally wear them.

So I looked it into. I saw that the possibilities were seemingly endless. Why stop at tshirts when you can make leggings? Why stop at leggings when you can make backpacks?

It goes on like this.

So I went all in. And I mean, ALL IN!

I had quit my job at the supermarket a few months prior. I had enough money to survive for a while while I explored new paths. So I sunk everything into this little venture. I was going to make horror related clothes. The horror market is severely underused. There are, of course, some major players in the horror game, but they all had to start at the bottom, too. So I went for it. I made a website. I made an Instagram and a Facebook. And after a week of the site being up, I made a sale. And then another sale.

Turning a profit is tricky, though. I needed word of mouth. I needed friends.

So I got back on my personal Facebook page after a year and a half, and let everyone know what I had been up to while I was gone.

It landed with a thud.

Nobody cared.

In the time I was gone I had a kid’s book, and novel, and this clothing company all launch.

I got nothing.

I started booking comic cons and would post pictures.

Nothing.

I have a little booth downtown, with all my stuff displayed, where you can walk in, buy something, and help support me and my family, by buying small, staying local.

I’ve had one friend visit it.

One.

It’s been there for six months.

I posted a few pictures of horror-celebrities wearing or showing off something I created.

Nothing.

I drew posters for a few events, movie screenings, even a stage play. I posted them. The most recent one I posted got 6 likes.

I have 590 Facebook friends and 6 of them liked a poster I did for a Scream 2 screening.

I have a family member whose daughter wanted “something Michael Myers” for Christmas. I have tons of Myers stuff. Stuff I poured my heart and soul into. Stuff you can’t find anywhere else.

This person did not buy from me. She bought a generic Myers t-shirt from a major store and probably spent more than she would have with me.

Right now, through luck and hopefully hard work, my work is in the processing of being officially licensed. Which means, with a little more work and a whole lot more hustle, it could end up in stores like Hot Topic, etc.

And then what?

I don’t know. I like to daydream. And I would like someone to be proud of it, someone who doesn’t live with me.

But, there comes a time when you have to let that go. Your friends won’t be proud of you. They will belittle you. They will find something to nitpick about what you’re doing.

And it sucks.

Strangers will support you. Your friends will not.

The sooner you know this, the better. You can delete your personal Facebook, you can shrug your shoulders at all the people holding you back and making you feel bad about leaving your comfort zone and taking a risk.

There is no law that you must remain friends with the people you were once friends with. Cut em loose.

This is about you. It’s about your dreams. Your life. Not theirs.

If they don’t want to follow you on your journey or cheer you on, cut them loose. Release that anchor from around your neck and push full-speed ahead.

You’ll be amazed at what you can accomplish when you stop worrying about what so-called friends think and start realizing that no matter what you do, there will be someone who admires you and looks up to you, just as you’ve looked up to someone else when you started your self-fulfilling journey.

Be the person you would want to look up to.

You can do it.

Start today.

Two months ago I had to attend a wedding where all of these people would be, all these “friends.”

All I heard were complaints. Whoever we struck up a conversation with, complained.

Complain complain complain.

I understood what was wrong.

We didn’t complain. My wife and I, we only told positive stories.

Our complaining days are over. We’ve moved on. We seemed out the positives from our lives and choose to focus on that.

All this did was draw out more complaining from the wedding guests.

So tone deaf and these people we’ve left behind, they were complaining about students (the teachers we knew) that are very similar to our son.

Like, really?! This is our life. You go home at 3. We live with this. And we still don’t complain.

So far back these people are, I had to hear outdated and cringeworthy jokes, I had to hear casual sexual harassment, breasts referred to as fun bags, in front of the girl they were talking to, and the groom’s nieces. They still use the R word to describe anything, despite knowing my son is extreme special needs.

Once you realize that you don’t want to live in the world these people still inhabit, the sooner you can progress to where you want to be.

You’ll never be happier leaving them, and their outdated thinking, and their complaints, and everything else that makes you miserable to hear about, behind.

And you can do it.

You can do it right now!

Log out of Facebook and get to work.

Find people to look up to and follow them. Do your own thing. People will begin to follow you.

I’m not saying it will be easy. I’m just giving you a heads up of what’s to come.

You can sidestep it completely.

You just need to realize that your friends want you to fail.

Prove them wrong.

Don’t even tell them.

Start now.

Go.

[cyrelia-j]

A Tale of Two Parmaks (or the big write up on my crazy versions)

In thinking of multiverse and character stuff, I thought this would be a good opportunity to familiarize everyone with the two big versions of Parmak that I write. He isn’t super fleshed out in the books, but I think that there’s still somewhat of a consensus on defining character traits both physical and mental/intellectual/emotional that make up the heart of him. I know that in both my primary iterations of him there are some characteristics which diverge sharply from what most people imagine he’d look like/think like/act like. There are a few short things I’ve written where I think he remains “canon” Parmak but those are definitely the minority.

So, without further ado, may I present:

C132 Parmak and C147 Parmak

(Yeah, I totally ripped off Rick and Morty for this)

The idea for those not familiar with the show is that there are various multiverses where alternate versions of the world/characters exist. It’s a pretty common theme in sci fi but I took the universe designation format from that show. Just as a reference, in the show it’s generally accepted that the “Primary Universe” characters are C137 so I definitely will not be using that number :)

C132 Parmak: This Parmak appears in my serious and dark/dramatic stories. I’m working on an ambitious series of backstories for his life in this universe. Right now these start with “If” and are going to continue through [upcoming as of 5/24/18] “The Downward Spiral” and others. Parmak in these stories is intersex- having characteristics of both sexes. In this universe I had envisioned Cardassia as having a detailed spectrum of sexes (Known as the Ba’zan Spectrum) which range from what we would approximate from Cis Male at one end to Cis Female on the other. I won’t get too detailed with that in this post but as a note, Parmak is “X210” which means that his primary body characteristics skew slightly female in appearance (ie the hip to shoulder ratio, slightly more feminine ridges, a bit of a softer voice etc) but as far as biological sex are closer to the center of the two.

The reason that this characteristic and matter of his sex gets such detail is because it’s a critical part of this Parmak’s identity. What I mean is this: I wrote this character to reflect a bit of myself. In the Cardassian records systems and medical systems etc he’s not considered male, he’s defined by this designation. But he considers himself male and refuses to be defined by the sum of his biology. As a trans male I wanted this part of him to be reflective of my own feelings and experience. (Yeah I know, confusing avatar- think of the Cyrelia J pseud like Conchita Wurst) This Parmak has spent his life with different expectations and prejudices being pushed on him because he refuses to call himself anything other than male. He’s rejected from his petition to study medicine before he gains a sponsor, he’s slandered and objectified by people he encounters, and he encounters a lot of pressure to conform. In spite of that he refuses to be anyone other than who he knows himself to be.

This Parmak is from Nokar. He was a physically “abnormal” child in that he is an albino (in the Cardassian sense), he has poor eyesight, and has kyphosis (a spine curvature which can be very minor to a pronounced hump- my cousin was born with this so that’s where the concept had originated from. Scoliosis, that thing they test for in schools is a spine curvature on the other axis). He’s terrified of his own reflection and has no desire to know what he looks like. He’s actually very attractive. His main drive and passion in life is medicine. When he was a teenager there was a plague of a mutated Yarim Fei which struck his village and everyone but him died. He spent months burying those who died while simultaneously trying to cure them with his own limited medical knowledge. He realized later he wasn’t infected because of his mutated genes. This really shaped his life because when he was able to devote himself to medicine he worked tirelessly for a vaccine on that and other diseases.

His passion and unique talent is in pharmacology and chemistry. This gets a bit “too perfect/sue-ish” but I like it so it’s not likely to change here. He’s like a magician/alchemist when it comes to his ability to mix up serums and drug compounds. It’s a highly coveted almost genius ability and one that Tain wants like oxygen. This Parmak was involved sexually with both Tain and Garak. He’s afraid of Garak’s eyes because of Tain’s induced illusion ability. He was soft spoken but fearless and was taught by his foster father Vakem Parmak that the Doctor’s role is to survive at all costs, be unbreakable, and so he was raised from his late teenage years to his mid 40s to withstand poisons and torture of an extreme form. It had only ended when Vakem Parmak died. Shortly after that he was recruited by Enabran Tain (albeit not exactly willingly). It made him arrogant in his abilities until Garak broke him. That combined with his experience in the work camp changed him.

In the present day, he’s kind but pragmatic. He’s aware of his own shortcomings but he still has a “survive at all costs” mentality due to his upbringing. The Parmak family credo which he lives and dies by is “one for a hundred” meaning for every life taken he must save a hundred. He’s unbending in this assessment. He still has his quirky sense of humor, he still refuses to look at himself in the mirror, and he doesn’t understand why people find him attractive as his own self-image is still poor. He has few hobbies because his life is work be it medicine, advocacy, raising a family, or self assigned “missions”. He enjoys reading and gardening but really has to be dragged into leisure because he doesn’t understand it. His life has taught him that life isn’t leisure only survival and work so he’s not very able to relax.

He’s a tireless advocate for the Northern Continents and northern rights and he has far less moral limits than I would imagine canon Parmak to have. He’s willing to kill to save but he works to heal the disenfranchised and protect those who need him most. He also has a warped pain tolerance because of his foster father’s training and enjoys being hurt- he doesn’t ask for it or seek it out, but he was conditioned to have that response when it occurs so that’s been used against him. I guess you could say he’s a bit of a broken Parmak.

Stories featuring C132 Parmak are: “If—“, “The Downward Spiral”, Invictus, and Inside a Dream” so far

If you like your Parmak closer to Julian ethically, more “light” than “dark”, and much less twisted then this isn’t the Parmak for you :)

On the opposite end we have:

C147 Parmak: This Parmak appears in all my humor/crack/lighthearted stories. His sex is irrelevant to the character unlike C132 Parmak though for reference he’s usually male in this iteration unless otherwise stated; so far in every story but “The Power of Three” he’s been cis male. This character borders on being a parody so I would encourage most to take this one with a grain of salt because he’s not meant to be a serious representation of Parmak. A lot of his traits come about because of silly late night conversations or “what if” jokes. The biggest example would be his cock obsession. For me this is more of a running gag because I imagine it to be so far off of real Parmak canon and behavior that it’s just silly. I find all sorts of stupid things amusing.

He had a happy childhood in the North, has living parents, and only moved South to study medicine for the adventure of it. He’s usually near lifelong friends with Garak (as this Parmak appears primarily in AUs) and occasionally it’s a friends with benefits arrangement. He appears as various types of doctors/healers but in the Extraverse he’s a yoga instructor as well. I’ll probably branch out his professions as I write more for him. He likes to wear his signature hair beads (silly fanon thing of mine) and often says outlandish things “unintentionally”.

He has a massive hoarding problem and he loves pop culture. You’ll find his space (car, house, office, etc) full of records, CDs, books, bumper stickers, old bottles, and anything he finds interesting. In some universes this includes a massive sex toy collection This Parmak loves taking pictures and loves music. He comes across as oblivious and spacey. Some of that’s genuine, some of it’s played up a bit because he likes seeing people smile and he likes spreading positivity. He loves yoga and tends to be super flexible and fit (sometimes in teasing contrast to the C147 Garak who’d rather lounge with a cocktail). This Parmak also loves television, Queen, and Columbo. He’s incredibly adventurous and has a devious little smirk. He’s a voyeur and a closet sadist (in a playful sense- he doesn’t enjoy actually hurting people).

He’s a bit of a bad driver, is into conspiracy theories in a big way, and is into alternative medicine and new age ideas. He’s more the “Hippie” part of “Hippie Lizard”. He absolutely loves sex and could be considered shameless but he’s proud of this and infinitely creative in that realm. I might even make him a sex therapist one of these days since I think he’d be good at it. As a side note, his companion C147 Garak is much the same. He loves games and stories and “cute” things though he seems rather unaware that he himself is one of those “cute things”. He likes to wear his sunglasses perched on his head while still wearing his glasses. Fun fact- his sunglasses aren’t prescription and he never actually wears them as sunglasses.

He’s a good listener, emphatic to the max and is comically strong while being pretty slim and unassuming. Sometimes he’ll also have the congenital stoop of C132 Parmak but not always. He dresses very free in the summer and bundles up like the kid in A Christmas Story in the winter. He has a strange obsession with tentacle porn and stopped consuming sugar sometime in the early 2000s. He’s pretty much everyone’s friend and can be outspoken and opinionated (especially on obscure things). He totally grows on people even if they don’t like him much at first and is always a brilliant doctor and ethically upright and kind character.

Sometimes he’ll appear in contemporary Cardassian fics/drabbles so some of the more Earth centric traits will be missing but everything else will pretty much hold true. The sex thing also holds for anyone in the C147 Parmak verse including Julian and Garak who are usually the 2 other constants. This too is actually kind of personal for me. It’s a lens through which I see the world. Maybe it’s because growing up I was like listening to Howard Stern since I was 7 and had a lot of exposure to that sort of thing. It’s difficult for me not to sexualize things and interactions and in my writing I tend to be super sex driven. Since my RL doesn’t even remotely reflect that activity I enjoy expressing it through fic even if the C147 Parmak and others get kind of caricature-ish.

Stories featuring C147 Parmak are: The Extraverse, Lizards Melt in your Mouth (epilogue 1 not 2), The power of Three, and the drabble Fine Print

So if you don’t like your Parmak to be an over the top extra dick magnet then steer clear of this Parmak :)

As a side note “A Gift for My Darling” has a mirror Parmak that’s a combo of both these Parmaks while being kind of completely insane.

Thank you everyone for taking the time to read, and I hope this enhances everyone’s experience with my stories. I’m always super appreciative of anyone reading and giving feedback. I’m kinda of like a sponge... but not the Seinfeld kind haha

I’ve been debating if people might prefer that I tag either version of this character for ease of filtering so any feedback on that either by reply or DM would be much appreciated!

[xtremedespair3d]

Should I move to WordPress?

This is kind of a sudden thing for me to talk about, but it’s something that I started thinking out of the blue this Thursday afternoon and I think I’m so close to make the final decision to actually do it because it’ll benefit me better for my blogging hobby in a better platform with better features, I might completely switch to WordPress for good.

For starters, the WordPress I’m talking about is the freemium version, WordPress.com, there’s no way I could use WordPress.org because I need to make a domain for it, and I don’t have the money to afford one and I think using WordPress.org might still require some coding to tweak some things, which is a hard pass.

I breifly talked about some things about moving to WordPress on my Twitter, but I think it’s best to explain in more detail as to why I want to move to WordPress.

Why should I move to WordPress?

As much as I like the theme I’m using in Tumblr, there’s this big problem with the pictures where it gets compressed so bad that the pictures look incredibly small. Just look how small it is.

And the worst part is if you click to view the picture, the compression really affected the actual resolution.

I’ve been running a test dummy website in WordPress and I chose this theme that I think it looks really cool, it has the style I like, but it still has the same problem with the image resolution when reading posts.

Although I think it looks somewhat better, it doesn’t look incredibly small compared to how Tumblr looks, but what’s better is that the compression doesn’t affect the resolution of the image when you click “View image” on Firefox (Or “Open tab to view image” in Chrome) and at least the placeholder tier shown here is normal, but when I put other images and I click “view image,” there’s this forced WordPress.com thing with menus all over, and no matter what you do, you can’t look at the bare image in your browser. Let’s just hope for the best that it doesn’t affect the resolution when you save those images.

Basically WordPress offers far better formatting options than Tumblr does if you’re using the Rich Text editor, and that’s what I’ve been using for my whole life, I don’t even bother using the HTML editor because I don’t know anything about coding at all. WordPress has this neat text editor where any item you put, some text or an image and they’re all set in blocks and it gives you some options right off the bat, we all know the basic text features like bold, headline, etc, but the headline is a life saver because I can make headlines at different sizes to balance the topics and stuff and that’s something I wouldn’t do in Tumblr’s rich text editor. I can even put images with no problem and the “Featured Image” option in WordPress works really good if your posts have thumbnails, I always tried to emulate this with Tumblr by just adding the picture on top of the text as if it was a thumbnail, it worked fine but I guaranteed it’s not as good of actually setting up your thumbnail as an option.

There’s also the option to add dividers which is something I really need for Tumblr, Tumblr did use to have dividers but for some reason they removed and I’ll just have to add pictures or something.

I did try a different theme on WordPress and the images look far better than this theme I’m using, but the problem with WordPress as well as Tumblr, is that 99% of the themes aren’t even that good, they just focus way too much on galleries and even the blog focused ones are just very cluttered with junk I don’t even need and defeats the purpose of wanting to make a blog site, this WordPress theme, the Rowling theme, is the kind of style that I like, I like my blogs to be like this classic style with the widgets like search, archive and such on the right while I get the posts and stuff on the left. It may not be as cool as the Tumblr one I’m using and the Rowling theme still has some flaws but it’s still going to do fine.

The other theme I tried was the Penscratch 2 theme which gears towards more blogging and it’s the kind of style that I like, although I used to like the theme but now I grew tired of it because I didn’t like how it looked anymore and the color options are extremely limited. The Rowling theme, on the other hand, allows me to customize 3 out of 5 options, I may not change colors in some areas but for the most part it’s far enough for me to use the theme.

Tumblr is a dead site

Another reason why I want to move on to WordPress is for the potential to get better attention unlike Tumblr which is non-existent (I mostly share links of the posts to some Discord servers I occasionally interact with, but I do wish the posts by themselves would get some tractions, I don’t know if it’s the tags but they should get something), mainly because no one on this day and age uses Tumblr anymore because they nuked all of the NSFW content, and that’s probably what caused people to boycott Tumblr for good.

Another problem Tumblr has is being owned by different companies like Yahoo and Verizon which served no good, especially after the porn content purge, but I COMPLETELY forgot that Tumblr was recently acquired by Automattic, the company that owns WordPress. Well, this post has already become quite the irony considering I want to move to WordPress, although I don’t think they’ll do any favors to Tumblr, and as the title of this category implies, Tumblr is dead at this point.

Despite Tumblr being bought by the owner of WordPress, it doesn’t really do anything for me, they’re not even adding some quality of life improvements to redeem Tumblr, hell, they probably won’t even redeem Tumblr, so might as well switch to WordPress which works far better as a blogging platform.

What about the posts I published throughout the years?

I originally thought I should rewrite every single post I made on the website for archival purposes, but I realized there’s a lot of them and it would be a pain in the ass to copy and paste everything, especially my New Year 2021 post which is probably the longest post I’ve ever made in my life (And nobody even read that, all that effort I put gone to waste).

I think it’s for the best to start from scratch, I was planning to launch the site with the HajiKo Anime Winter 2021 post (The Cells at Work Black + Cells at Work season 2 thing is a teaser), but at the same time I should make the first post being about my move to WordPress and I’ll leave a link to my Tumblr if anyone wants to read all my previous posts.

Conclusion

The more I’m trying to build my website with a dummy domain, the more I feel like I’m close to actually make the decision to actually move to WordPress for good, though it won’t take a while until April where I’ll launch the site with my new anime review post, like I mentioned earlier.

Despite the flaws the Rowling theme has and amongst other things, it just takes time and figure out what pages I’m going to make and other things and I’ll have a nicely polished website to completely move on from Tumblr for good.

By the way, I’m mainly going to use the free plan on WordPress, I don’t think I would like to spend money on upgrades for more features, even though I would like to have a good domain, SEO and even make money, I don’t think it’s going to be worth the investment if I want to pay for the plan religiously (I’m already financially struggling with paying for Netflix, Disney+, Arknights month pack, Ogata Tei’s Fantia and Sky-Freedom’s Subscribestar anyways).

For the moment I still have yet to finish my dummy site to get a better picture for how will the website turn out so I’ll eventually publish the real thing, so please wait patiently until that happens.

UPDATE - February 20th: I’m seriously having a hard time trying to make my website look good because every time I’m making a new page from scratch, the way the titles are formatted and everything just looks god awful! Everything is so narrow and it’s nothing like how the Rowling theme’s live demo is supposed to look like!

Look how gorgeous the live demo of the theme looks!

Compared to the absolute trash from making a page from scratch! Everything is so narrow, I hate this!

This is seriously disappointing me so bad to the point I don’t wanna move to WordPress anymore, there’s no other themes that I like to choose from.

---

My Carrd.

[cherishtheartist]

Guernica et Mes moments de réflexion dans le Musée Picasso

Pablo Picasso, Guernica, Oil on Canvas, 1937, Museo Reina Sofia

Have you ever thought about why we admire some people? Because I have such an analytical mind, I am constantly asking myself questions like this. I remember the first art museum I visited and learned about Jackson Pollock, Pablo Picasso, and many other artists from the 20th century. But it wasn't until I was in my senior year of high school that I really started to think about why these artists influenced me. Over the years, these thoughts have gone even deeper. But before I get too deep into that part of my mind, I just want to express pure admiration for Pablo Picasso.

Most people know Pablo Picasso best for his cubist style. But some people outside of the art world don’t know that he could “actually draw” as Jean-Michel Basquiat said about himself. Picasso’s father was an art teacher and drilled traditional techniques and practices of copying old masters work (for example, the drawings of Michelangelo or Da Vinci). He became so advanced that by the age of 16 he was admitted to the Real Academia de Bellas Artes de San Fernando in Madrid, Spain. Although, he left soon after starting because he disliked being formally instructed.

Pablo Picasso, Autorretrato (self-portrait), Oil on Canvas,1896 (at 15 yrs old!)

Yeah, he’s also Spanish. Most prominent artists at the time were French (hence why he worked very hard to become successful in Paris, France – see my very last image in this post). He was seen as a foreigner in France. I had not realized initially that this was such a big problem. However, given the context of French society and how they react to “foreignness” it makes perfect sense. You see, the French believe that in order to preserve their culture and history that everyone who is to be a part of their society will adapt the same cultural norms – this is also known as assimilation. This is a simple definition of a very big part of French idealism, but I think it works for the purpose of it being mentioned in this post. I recommend you read into it more.  

I visited the Musee Picasso this past week, in which there was a special exhibition on one of his most famous piece Guernica. To say that I was living an art fan girl’s dream come true is an understatement. Picasso’s work speaks to me because it reminds me so much of my own work and work ethic. Picasso was always searching for a new muse, a new method, and a way to make people think critically about what they are viewing. I love to think critically and engaging others in these kinds of conversations through my artwork. I also work in a similar style and this is unintentional. I was indirectly inspired and unknowingly creating works that were reminiscent of Picasso’s work.

For example, I made a mega series about depression my senior year in high school. Within the mega series, I created seven abstract self-portraits that happened to look almost identical to a ceramic piece by Picasso that I had never seen until after someone who was viewing my work on display told me about.

Pablo Picasso, Head, glazed white-earthenware plaque, 1956

Cherish Joe, Cara de Cariña: Seis (Cherish’s Face: 6), underglazed earthenware, 2016

As I looked at his sketches for Guernica, I saw my own style of sketching reflected on the pages. His lines were so much more confident and crisp is the only difference. It made me realize what I should be doing in my own workbook. It also made me realize why I admired him.

In the 11th grade, I learned about Guernica in my art history course. Initially I thought that it was different than any other work I had seen of Picasso. It evoked a completely different feeling and meaning than most of the works by him that I had seen. Picasso made Guernica as a commissioned work. It was a response to the evil of the Nazis who bombed the small town of Guernica, Spain. This work is about the reality of injustice in our world. At this time, the world was going through its second World War and had been introduced to the atomic bomb, genocide, and widespread great depression. The world was on everyone’s mind for the first time. This was made very clear in the exhibition.

Posters about the Spanish Civil War in the Musee Picasso

From the moment I stepped into the Guernica exhibition, my eyes were wide open and I was taking in every object on display. I have a deep interest in the way Picasso represents reality in his work, especially Guernica. When you look at each component of this work, I believe that you can feel each subject’s emotion deeper than if the painting had been a tight rendering (in layman’s terms a highly realistic depiction) in color. In my opinion, the success of this piece is from the breaking down of horrific and complex imagery into shapes, lines, and black and white values to express emotion. Emotion is so complex and hard to express to a wide range of people from different backgrounds. At the beginning of the exhibition, each part of the piece is broken down for the viewer because you could read this painting like a book. Picasso was a highly intelligent person who worked very hard to create reality and constantly make people question what they see as reality. Arguably, I would say that the work he produced from Les Demoiselles d’Avignon onward is some of his most realistic work. This is when he was not only taking a critical look at his subjects, but what it meant to be an artist. The power of creating imagery goes over most people’s heads. I may be getting very art philosophical now, but I hope you are able to follow.

Earlier, I mentioned that I would go deeper into my understanding of the way the world chooses who to admire. Why is it that so many people admire Picasso? Well there are quite a few obvious reasons that would come to mind for the average person who’s heard of him. I’ve mentioned some personal reasons for admiration, but I did not mention my conflicting feelings about Picasso. Picasso was deeply influenced by African art,and I say art loosely because the concept of art is based on Western ideals of life art is usually used in a sense of mimicking or creating reality but the objects from different African cultural groups are mostly not that. Most of the objects in this category were reality, they were parts of everyday life. 

How a small African figurine changed art...

Picasso did not admit his admiration and influence from these cultural items, but without them he would not have invented cubism. He even said himself that “Good artists copy, but great artists steal.” I have conflict with my admiration for someone who perpetuates the system of racial hierarchy and the many cannons that dismiss the intellectual, technical and aesthetic quality of black and brown people’s work, especially since I am a black female artist. Sometimes, I think about the things I am learning about as an artist, and in other areas of life, and I wonder how different life would be if these things were truly meant for everyone. By this I mean if the canon included the efforts and accomplishments of people of color and held them to the same importance and acknowledgement as those of white people. And then, who would we admire?

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

Picasso signed many of his paintings with not only his name, but the date the work was finished. It is interesting that his work was often titled in French and had French date format and not Spanish. If you look closely, like the close up in this picture, you see that it is in French date format. I am a bit of a nerd when it comes to art, culture, and language so I noticed this difference and I think it has a deeper meaning. Picasso was not French so he worked hard to prove himself to the French, who were the leaders of the art world at the time. The French believe in a lot of the ideals that the French Revolution embodied, such as speaking the same language nationally and having a shared almost autonomous identity. I believe Picasso titled his work in French and signed with a French date format to prove to them that he was serious about the work he made and could fit into French society. What do you think?

Merci, Au revoir! 

[oliverphisher]

James Foley

Brobot (S. Tinker Inc) By James Foley

James Foley is a children’s author and illustrator. He makes picture books, junior fiction and graphic novels. He is in high demand for talks and workshops in schools and libraries across Australia. He comes from a long line of queuing enthusiasts. He lives in Perth with his wife, son and labrador.

James Foley makes picture books, middle grade novels and comics for kids. He’s the author/illustrator of the S.Tinker Inc graphic novel series for middle primary: Brobot (2016), Dungzilla (2017) and Gastronauts (2018) star Sally Tinker, the world’s foremost inventor under the age of twelve, and Joe Tinker, her stinky baby brother. James also illustrated Toffle Towers (2019), written by Tim Harris, and Total Quack Up (2018), an anthology of funny short stories with proceeds going to charity. James’ earlier books My Dead Bunny (2015) In The Lion (2012), The Last Viking (2011) and The Last Viking Returns (2014) have all scored several honours, including children’s choice awards, shortlistings in the Children’s Book Council of Australia Book of the Year awards, and selection to the International Youth Library’s White Raven list.

What are one to three books that have greatly influenced your life?

The Artists’ Way, by Julia Cameron

The Artist's Way: 25th Anniversary Edition By Julia Cameron

Roland Harvey’s Drawing Book, by Roland Harvey

Roland Harvey's Drawing Book (Young Designer Series) By Roland Harvey

The Eleventh Hour, by Graeme Base

The Eleventh Hour: A Curious Mystery By Graeme Base

What purchase of $100 or less has most positively impacted your life in the last six months (or in recent memory)?

It’s not related to writing or illustrating in any way ... my wife and I recently bought some reusable produce bags to replace the soft little plastic bags you use at the shops to put fruit or veggies in. They’re made from recycled plastic bottles too so they’re extra good for the environment. We also bought some bulk produce bags so we can go to our local whole food shop and buy bulk of rice, oats and other things we’d usually have to buy in little plastic bags at the supermarket. It’s reduced our plastic consumption A LOT and that’s making us feel a bit better about our impact on the environment.

How has a failure, or apparent failure, set you up for later success?

I first submitted illustration samples to publishers when I was around 20 years old. I didn’t get any invitations to illustrate books back then; my work wasn’t up to a professional standard yet, and I wasn’t ready mentally or emotionally either. But I did have one publisher who liked one of the images I’d pulled together, and they said they’d keep it on file. Nothing ever came of it, but that one little bit of encouragement was enough for me to keep going.

I was working on a picture book idea around that time too; I had character designs and a theme … but the story wasn’t working. 7 years later, I got my first publishing contract. The story had the same theme as the one I’d been working on way back when, and my old character design was definitely applicable. In fact a whole bunch of different little sketches that I’d just been doing for fun ended up finding their way into that first book. It was as if I had been working towards that first published book without knowing it.

Are there any quotes you think of often or live your life by?

There’s one that’s (supposedly) from Confucius that I’ve had written on a post-it on my computer for a long time: “Man on hill with mouth open wait long time for roast duck to drop in.”

What is one of the best investment in a writing resource you’ve ever made?

It was an illustrating resource, and it was my first graphics tablet: a Wacom intuos 3. I bought it back in 2006 and it served me well for a decade of making illustrations; I illustrated my first four books with it. It still works, too!

What is an unusual habit or an absurd thing that you love?

I’ve collected the ticket stub from every movie I’ve seen since 1994. The first in the pile is Independence Day, which I saw with some high school classmates after class one day.

In the last five years, what new belief, behaviour, or habit has most improved your life?

I had a near-death experience in 2016; I was in a major car accident. It could have gone really badly but somehow I emerged unscathed. That gave me a clear sense of my own mortality for the first time, and has changed the way I look at my life and work immensely. I recommend a non-injurious near-death experience to everyone! I also got married and had a son in the last three years, so that’s changed my outlook again.

What advice would you give to a smart, driven aspiring author? What advice should they ignore?

You don’t need to submit things straight away. You don’t need to get published straight away, and you shouldn’t expect to. It’s important that you get knocked back a few times. It’s extremely likely you’ll get knocked back a lot of times. The knockbacks and the constructive criticism will help you develop your craft and get your work up to a publishable standard. Take on the feedback that you truly feels rings true (because sometimes you will get positive constructive criticism from people who really get what you’re trying to do and see the potential in it); ignore the feedback that doesn’t really click or seems petty or mean (because sometimes you will get discouraging feedback from people who just don’t get what you’re trying to do). For this to work though, you need to be willing to take on feedback in the first place, and that’s absolutely vital. I see lots of people who are overconfident in their ability, and react very badly when given feedback that contradicts that belief. You need to be confident in your ability to put in the work of course, but also humble, as you have a lot to learn, and you will never stop learning.

What are bad recommendations you hear in your profession often?

Sometimes people say, submit your manuscript to one publisher at a time. That’s terrible advice! You will be waiting months and months to hear back from a publisher, if you ever hear back from them at all. The better thing to do is send to multiple publishers at once, and mention in your cover letter that this is what you've done. That way all the publishers know what the deal is, and they can contact you to check if the manuscript is still available before they start putting time and effort into reading it and considering it at their meetings in-house.

In the last five years, what have you become better at saying no to (distractions, invitations, etc.)?

Having a toddler means my wife and I have very little free time, so we’ve both had to become better at saying no to things; I think I still need to learn the lesson on a regular basis! It’s always a balancing act between work and home life; and within work, there’s a balance between spending time on the next book/s, spending time doing paid talks and workshops; getting admin done; and doing the other unpaid things that pop up (volunteer opportunities, media and promotional events, etc).

What marketing tactics should authors avoid?

On social media, don’t just talk about yourself all the time, and don’t just talk about your book all the time. You can share things that interest you, share reviews of what you’re reading, even just share a photo of your dog - social media is about being social, not just hammering people with advertisements and saying ME ME ME.

What new realizations and/or approaches have helped you achieve your goals?

I’ve gotten better at time management and networking, and I’m learning to draw quicker too; these are things that I guess anyone develops with practice. It’s meant I’ve been able to work on more projects at once, though I definitely bit off more than I could chew this year, so I’ve also realised that there’s a limit to how many goals one can realistically work towards at any one time. This year I’m illustrating three middle grade novels (the first is called Toffle Towers: Fully Booked, written by Tim Harris); I’ve also illustrated the follow-up picture book to My Dead Bunny, which will be out in 2020; I’m also working on a bunch of freelance jobs, and starting another graphic novel and developing some picture book ideas. So it’s all go at the moment.

I’m also finding that the sleep deprivation of having a toddler is really affecting everything in my life - my immune system, my energy levels, and of course my mental health and my work - EVERYTHING. So I’m becoming more health conscious, and realising I have to set aside time for naps, exercise, and just plain old downtime. If you don’t make time for rest and exercise then you’ll have to make time for ill health later.

When you feel overwhelmed or have lost your focus temporarily, what do you do?

Procrastinate. But I’m getting better at recognising when I’m in this state and I step away from the desk and do something else. That might be some deep breathing or some yoga stretches, or some mindless chores around the house.

Sometimes I’m overwhelmed because there’s too many things to do, so I’ll make a list. I’ll look at all the tasks and the time I have, and I’ll prioritise what needs to happen and when. Once I have a plan then I feel more in control and can calm down a bit - then I can get on with each task in turn.

Any other tips?

I’ve got a whole bunch of tips on my website at https://ift.tt/3dZDfr1

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