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undyingsunshine · 4 years ago

Note

YESSSSS YOU’RE BACK AND TAKING ASKS

14 and 15 for the most recent post, and I’m gonna come back with more too

Here we go!!!!

14. At what point in writing do you come up with a title?

Honestly, it usually differs from piece to piece! Usually, though, the title comes last! (Though I do have a short list of potential titles for Li Cu fics stored away, most of which are just lyrics from songs xD Whether I end up using them or not, only time will tell!)

15. Which is harder: titles or summaries (or tags)?

All of these tend to give me a bit of trouble xD if I was to rank from hardest to easiest however, I think I'd say titles are the hardest and tags tend to be the easiest. For summaries I usually just slap a portion of the fic in and then add a small almost-summary below it, mostly because I feel like giving a sample of the fic will be more effective than trying to give a succinct description? Kind of shows you what you're getting into before you've even clicked xD

Titles, I use a lot of lyrics from songs, especially ones that I think fit with the character. Though, this does sometimes mean my titles are... long and it can make it a little awkward when trying to talk about the fics themselves. xD

Examples include;

"Come with me, I promise the water is fine..." Which is a lyric from God Bless Eric Taylor by Marietta, a song that I relate to Li Cu somewhat.

This next one is the title of a chapter instead of a whole fic, but I'll count it anyway xD Chapter 2 of I'm Here is titled: "I have this dream that I'm hitting my dad with a baseball bat and he is screaming and crying for help..." which is from the song Father by The Front Bottoms.

I ideally try to make it so that the lyrics also match up with the contents of the chapter/fic. I'm Here's second chapter is all about Li Cu's nightmares, so I thought the title would be pretty fitting xD Honestly, thinking back maybe I could've added more types of dreams.... Ones that fit that title even more.... Small rewrite of that Chapter perhaps? I don't think it would be that different, but still... Would add more angst onto everything xD

The title for "Come with me..." Also sort of relates to the contents of the fic, but moreso in the following line that appears in the summary: "I need something else to comvince me I won't die."

Honestly these lines could have me ranting a whole lot, especially in relation to Li Cu. Just makes me think of all his conflicted feelings, and how he must feel when he drags his friends into the mess he didn't even make. (And these feeling really would increase after Su Wan blames him for the snake bite and getting Shen Qiong inveolved, and during just... the entirety of the time he, Yang Hao, Su Wan and Liang Wan are in the desert together. (ESPECIALLY when Yang Hao is being absolutely mistreated by the 9 families, like sheesh.)

It's just a whole lot of guilt, but also maybe some stubborn determination? Li Cu is very adamant on living just to spit in the face of everyone around him. Existing out of pure spite, but with friends involved, it's more like he's existing to fulfil a purpose? One that he feels like he's bestowed upon himself. Not Wu Xie, or Rishan, or anyone. Just him. He stays alive so he can protect his friends. He'll keep them safe, he'll get them home alive. He has to. And he knows that he will. Or else, what is he even persevering for? "I need something to convince me I won't die." In the fic, this could also be referring to Wu Xie, as he kind of marks safety by the end of the drama. Wu Xie being there means it's okay. It means he doesn't have to fight anymore. And in the fic, it also means that Li Cu can let go. Of Everything. Permanently. (I have so many branching ideas based on that 300 word demon of a fic, you wouldn't even believe)

ANYWAY I'LL STOP RANTING ABT THAT FIC MAYBE I'LL TALK ABOUT THAT FIC MORE IN DEPTH SOME OTHER TIME IF PPL WANT IT.

As for tags, I struggle mostly because I never know what's okay to tag? I'm afraid of tagging a fic with something if the content of that particular tag doesn't show up all that much in the fic? Unless it's something that's a potnential trigger, and then I'll tag it, even if it's small. Just ot be safe. But like. Characters, I don't tag unless they're actually there and present and doing something. If they're mentioned, I tend to not tag them since it's not all that crucial? For people to know they show up for a second? Idk, I like to be as succinct and precise as possible with my tags, because I know how annoying it is for tags to be clogged or for fics to have too many tags xD

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

I have a few, surprisingly! I'll choose two, both from the second chapter of I'm Here!

"Each one makes him wake up, terrified and shaky and wanting to hide or just outright stop existing; to become intangible, untouchable, safe. Of course, he can't actually do that, so instead he pushes the fear down and suffocates it before burying it in the backyard of his mind in the hopes it'll never be dug up again."

Something I try and do while writing is find ways to explain how I. Just. Experience life? (This is also present in Chapter 1 with the line "Further frustration gathered in his chest, making it tighten with stress before it shot up into his throat". Just little things that I've never really seen in words before? That I feel but never know how to accurately describe.) There's always the whole "let the void swallow me/him/her/them whole" thing in media that I love because, honestly, mood. But I guess for this I just wanted to word it differently? In the way I felt was most accurate to myself. Just to be in a state of which nothing can get you, be it life or that one imaginary demon that you sometimes think is lurking around the house at the convenient time of 3 AM, Y'know? When real life becomes TOO real and you just want to blip out for a second, just pause everything and have a moment to be free of everything xD

I also just kind of like the metaphor(?) with his fear. Trust Li Cu to not only associate feelings with violence, but also treat his feelings violently xD I feel like I'm not the best when it comes to imagery and creative expression, especially through words. I point out the obvious, the facts, a lot, both when speaking normally and in writing, and it takes a bit of time for me to remember that I'm writing a story and not jotting a list of events xD So anytime I actually come up with something more kind of creatively written, I feel particularly happy with myself.

"He can't even fully comprehend what's been going on - everything feels bizarre and just out of reach, moreso than usual - but what he does know is that Wu Xie is here and he's angry. The man stands above Li Cu, his cold calculating eyes burning him with wordless accusations that, despite their ambiguity, feel justified. There's guilt, desperation and denial crashing inside him like waves assaulting a rickety raft on a stormy sea. What these feelings are for, he doesn't know. It makes him want to plead for forgiveness all the same."

Let's be honest, Li Cu probably has way too many mixed feelings on Wu Xie. The man who simultaneously built him up and destroyed him. The man who caused him agony, but is also probably one of the best things to come into Li Cu's life??? Like damn, I think I'd be pretty conflicted if I was Li Cu. And things only get worse when, in this fic's timeline, Wu Xie essentially ghosts Li Cu out of guilt for what he did to the kid. This is taken wrong by Li Cu, and he ends up feeling abandoned. By his own kidnapper. I just feel like this snippet is pretty okay at capturing all the blame he puts onto himself, and captures some of the trauma that comes with the events of Sha Hai as well. I just kind of like how this paragraph turned out in the end. xD

6. What character do you have the most fun writing

LI CU!!! Absolutely Li Cu. I don't know exactly what it is but it just. Clicks with me? Or at least the version I write of himd does, it's probably not even close to Li Cu's canon portrayal xD Maybe it's because of the fact that I'm also an angsty, angry 19 year old that I feel as such? It's much easier to put myself in the mind of a teenage boy rather than a 40 year old man xD In terms of non DMBJ writings, I have OCs that I love writing for! Funnily enough, one is an angsty 19 year old boy with a lot of self-worth issues (ringing any bells?) and the other is an angry, confused and conflicted character that was modified to be a kind of living weapon, but had since escaped and repressed all their memories of what happened. Though, the memories eventually start to resurface and they begin to question themself a whole lot, with flashbacks haunting the corners of their mind and driving them deeper and deeper into guilt-filled despair.

In general, angsty characters with a lot of conflicted emotions are super fun to write for! To flicker around from thought to thought and dive into all the hidden feelings that a character can have. It's just super enjoyable for me xD

#writing this while also writing an essay #it's helping me turn those rusty head gears #i feel like i can finally write things again xD #THANK YOU FOR THE ASKS SIERRA! I hope my answers were satisfactory!! xD #i think i went way too off-topic with some of these but honestly when do i ever stay on topic????#ask game #undying prattle #ramblerambleramble #miiiight edit this tomorrow to make it more comprehensible #but for now you can have this mess of a post xD

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rosenmarille · 4 years ago

Note

First of all: that One Day bit is quality content. Second of all I read "3.5 for Holly" and am Highly Interested

HI yes! i will explain, however i first have to correct myself. its actually a part 2.5, not 3.5. like i mentioned in the other post, the part is called “heart unbound”, this is about 25 years after battle tendency, when holly is in her early 20s!!

the rest of this im gonna put under the cut

so the setting. joseph (43), suzie, and holly (21) live in new york, smokey is in georgia, lisa lisa (75) is Somewhere in the states, erina and speedwagon have passed away (sad). its 1963! the speedwagon foundation has continued expanding, with joseph and lisa lisa closely involved after speedwagons death. they’ve mostly moved their attention into new territory, but still have all their old research kept. stands aren't a thing yeeet, but its been long enough that the pillarmen have faded into unpleasant memory.

until one night the power at the swf hq goes out for just a moment too long, and santana manages to escape.

joseph and lisa lisa are contacted asap, and they decide to travel down to texas and find him (preferably take him out for good this time). holly, who has grown up hearing about jojo’s wild escapades, really wants to come along. she knows some hamon! she can defend herself! come on!! (yes i said it, holly learned hamon, do you think having lisa lisa for a grandmother would result in anything less?) anyway, joseph and lisa lisa Really don't want her to come since it could be really dangerous and they'd rather not put her in harm’s way.

so holly (rich, unsupervised) books a plane and goes after them.

we skip to texas!! joseph and lisa lisa investigate at hq and the surrounding area and find practically no trace of santana or where he might have gone. when holly arrives, she decides that since she can't look into hq without getting caught, she’ll ask around with locals, and manages to hear rumours about a new sort of cryptid (only appears at night, weird anatomy etc), both cattle and people have been disappearing, but on a very small scale. she looks into similar stories and realizes that santana must be moving south, though what he's planning, she doesn't know. but she will follow!! (and leave breadcrumbs for her family to pick up on this pattern too, she guesses. not so helpless now, huh?)

so this goes for a while, taking her down into mexico, until she is pretty sure that she can triangulate the missing people reports accurately enough to actually Find him. holly isnt stupid, she doesnt think she can win in a battle against a pillarman. what she’s hoping to do is prove herself to joseph and lisa lisa by prepping and helping out enough for them to then take care of the problem. she's an adult now and she doesnt appreciate being treated like a child. (you may say this contradicts how she behaved towards joseph in part 3, but to that i counter: she's in her 40s in that one, and her being an adult is established enough that she knows she can act a lil silli without that being put in question)

but hey!! she does find him!! she decides to stalk him for a bit, see what he does. so she happens to be there when santana attacks a young woman (midnight snack), who pulls a KNIFE instead of running away, so Holly rushes in and deflects an attack with a quick hamon swipe. santana has learned from his previous hamon encounter and instead of sticking around, he decides it isn't worth it and absconds instead (smart). (at this point you might notice this is the first fight of the part. yeah it be like that in this one. call it battle untendency)

holly and the woman (who later introduces herself as Maria (no last name yet; but named after Maria Maria by Santana (lol)) also get out of dodge and hide out in an alley, where maria decides that she needs to know what the fuck that Thing was, yesterday. magic?? sparkling?? hello??? and hollys like uhh hah yes so. that's an ancient semi immortal vampire creature? and this is sunlight breathing magic, which he's allergic to. yea. and maria is like ................yeah okay i buy it. teach me sunlight breathing magic, i wanna come.

maria side paragraph! she's our oc and we love her. remember that awful scene from the santana arc with all those prisoners and the one kid who doesn't get sacrificed? that's her older brother. he was “let go” but “let go” basically did just mean “free to wander the desert and find civilisation maybe”, so when he did eventually find his way back home, he'd been severely traumatized, plus on death's door. other prisoners had been turned into vampires to test on the pillarman discovery, so the word “vampire” is something he'd have heard and conveyed to his family, who didn’t. really believe him. he also hasn't really recovered from that experience :( then the war happened and maria's dad served in it, and afterwards decided that his other child needed to know how to defend herself, and maria learned how to handle a knife, as well as how to physically fight. their family managed to avoid post war financial problems for the most part, and maria was able to finish her studies! she's a pilot :) she is, however, harbouring very deep anger and resentment for what happened to her brother, and has not really had a face to direct that anger towards, so it's been on a relatively low burner for the most part, but now there’s talk of vampires and a person she can blame for her family’s trauma.

they exchange notes and she realizes that yeahh, that is pretty much exactly what her brother had told them, so it was true. hah :) yes actually, i would like to learn vampire killing magic please holly. and holly, who didn't really want to bring someone with her, but kind of does believe in accidents not being a thing, decides that yeah, she probably should bring maria along. and sure!! if they have to deal with sanata again, why not teach her hamon!! they share stories and continue to follow the trail while they train together, and become really close friends! jobro time.

we've now reached the first third of the story.

we travel further south!! soon, holly begins to realize......... ohh..... the temple they found santana in.. that's south of here, isn't it? oh huh. what could he want there?? the masks have been destroyed as far as she knows?? she doesn't know enough first hand to know what significance there could be, but the girls prepare for anything. maybe a big weapon the researchers had not been able to identify?? MOre pillarmen, secretly living underneath the temple???

(there are gonna be some scenes that involve lisa lisa and joseph figuring out where they need to go, and maybe also realizing who set that trail, maybe they have smth else going on, who knows)

holly and maria follow santana and eventually do find the temple, and prepare to stake it out, hopefully hopefully not alerting him to their presence, because that would be.........bad. (tho tbh marias kinda itching to try out vampire begone magic. wouldn't You want to if you suddenly learned how?) neither of them have ever been here so they're honestly pretty floored by the temple interior, the tunnel that leads into the main chamber dark and uninviting, with who knows what hidden dangers are lurking about.

and then they see him. santana is investigating the place where the pillar had been cut out of the structure, the stone masks crushed and broken, strewn around the floor, running his hands over the broken stone. Then he walks to one of the murals carved into the wall, a large one, similar to the one speedwagon had been investigating, with the 4 faces representing the pillarmen, and he lingers there. dips his head, then walks back to the empty space of the pillar and sits down where it was, crosslegged, and closes his eyes. and then he stays still. what does That mean??

the girls decide this is enough, they should fall back and formulate a proper plan, maybe wait for joseph and lisa lisa to catch up. buuuut we can't have that be the end of it, and so something happens, maybe one of them trips? steps on rubble that falls loose? they make a noise. and get noticed.

change of plans! fight now! except there isn't an attack? they stay still but “i know you're there.” damn it. battle formation, stances ready, they make their way into the chamber, where santana hasn't moved at all. he's still sitting there, but he's looking at them now. holly asks what he's doing here, he asks the same back. she says not to play dumb, hes been killing people this whole time, he has to answer for that! and to that, santana honestly looks a bit confused because. has he? in his defense, he's not human, his prey is humans. pillarboy has to eat.

marias like “well? aren't you going to attack us?” and he's like “not unless you bother me.” and closes his eyes again. the girls aren't sure what to make of this.

santana side paragraph: first of all, this is a santana stan account. name one (1) thing he's done wrong, canonically. woke up in a strange place. captured?? got his bearings, tried to Leave and was accosted! shot some nazis (go king), and finally only snapped when joseph got mad he didn't laugh at his clownery. anyone would get murderous as a result. tried to escape further, ultimately was stopped and detained Again! morally, he's above joseph.

so they're just standing now. since their earlier encounter where holly used hamon, santana refuses to talk more at first, but holly has the bright idea to get his trust by having maria restrain her and then stand back with her weapon -- a show of putting herself in a helpless position and promise she wont attack. that’s enough for santana to agree to come closer and have a proper conversation.

holly asks again why he's here exactly? what's here? and he tells her that if she Must know, he's waiting. waiting for what, she asks. and maria looks back at the carvings and realizes “oh. there should be 4 of them.” now santana looks mildly uncomfortable, and holly rememebers that “oh fuck, dad killed all of them.” and then “wait they were evil tho??” and then again “wait fuuck, didn't the leader guy say they left this one behind in mexico on purpose? oh man does he Know?” holly finds herself in the position of “not only do i have to tell this guy his friends aren't coming because they're Dead, they also kinda abandoned him.” yikes.

meanwhile maria is kinda pissed that her one chance at revenge might have just been taken from her. she still blames santana for what happened to her brother, and she refuses to let that go. she’s too stubborn and proud for that. and now, especally since holly seems to be focused on creating a bond, it feels like a slap in the face. so she kinda… snaps, ruining their chance at resolving this peacefully and causing santana to run off again. she and holly have a fight. it sucks.

soon after that joseph does find holly and he Does send her home. maria, after explaining her intentions, stays with them. holly is heartbroken :( after shes gone, joseph and lisa lisa make a plan to trap santana, aimed to go off in a few days prep, and during this, maria is starting to realize that that... really isnt the right thing to do... shes now had some time to sit alone with her guilt and regret about how she handled the situation, ssso she gets an idea on how to make up for it...

meanwhile holly is sitting at home and is sad, until suzie drives her somewhere in guise of going to a fancy lunch with smokey (whos in town), but really she drives her to the joestars airpad where her friend marua(!!) is already waiting in front of joseph’s plane, which, turns out, she hijacked in the south and flew all the way up here, and suzie tosses holly a bag with clothes and stuff and tells her to hurry up and get going :3

and hollys all "but what about lunch with mr smokey? :o" and suzie winks at her and says "don't worry, he's waiting for me to tell him everything went well at the restaurant ;)" and then holly gives her a big hug, runs to her friend and hugs Her, and they are off to fly back south to save some lives. on the way, maria apologizes and explains -- how she had harboured this resentment for so long that the sudden target for her blame put in front of her, plus the immediate removal of it were so jarring that she acted impulsively... she knows santana isnt at fault for what happened with her brother... and now she just hopes they make it in time.

as luck would have it, they catch up with joseph and lisa lisa just in time to jump between them and santana (maria accidentally cuts off joseph’s prosthetic hand in the process and freaks the fuck out before realizing it’s fine) and try to talk it out. it’s a tense few minutes, but holly is determined and stubborn, and she manages to get her dad and grandma to see her side of things and santana is saved! they find something for him to eat, giving him the energy to heal his wounds. pillarmen absorbing shit never gets old.

And from there it’s mostly just everything getting settled down and smoothed out. they get back in touch with the swf and tell them the problem is handled. santana turns out to be a relatively peaceful dude when his life isn’t being threatened, and he becomes a good friend with all four of them, but especially holly and maria. they help teach him about the modern world and he decides that he’s going to do some travelling and learn about the history of his culture and other ancient mesoamerican cultures he interacted with in his youth, and he shares the things he learns with the swf so they can get the info about where theyre needed etc. maria gets hooked up with one of the many therapists we decided work at the swf that has experience with the supernatural things she and her brother have gone through. holly, maria, and santana stay in touch and go on regular trips together. holly receives many post cards.

it’s all really good and happy :) thats heart unbound baybee!! <33

#pari talks #heart unbound #jjba #au tag #(<< new tag for all future pari and jace aus jdfdkfjh)#this turned out Very long djfkdjh #ALSO important post credit notes: santana and maria stay involved in the rest of the jojo stories #mostly in the background doing their own things sometimes together sometimes separate #santana develops an actual cryptid status like fukin nessie or smth #‘the pillarman always walks at night. a huge behemoth of a human but Not Quite a body that can change shape at will…. always on foot….’#that last one was his personal choice because he can take his time going places #he walks everywhere and just enjoys how the world has changed #maria becomes an ‘’’adventurer’’’ by profession. she has a plane #she has a big knife #she goes and beats up poachers and is on the frontlines for social movements #jotaro has the coolest aunt

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mosylufanfic · 4 years ago

Text

You’ve Got Mail

This is for the second day of Killervibe week, the Meet Cute theme! Based on something that happened to a Facebook connection of mine, although as far as I know it didn’t turn out this cute.

You’ve Got Mail

The first note was stuck to Caitlin’s door with a piece of scotch tape. She frowned and unfolded it, wondering if the new neighbor already had a problem with her erratic hours.

Hi! (read the computer-printed note)

I just moved into 202 and wanted to introduce myself to all my neighbors. I'm Cisco Ramon and I'm starting my Masters' in electrical engineering at the university. Normally I'd knock and say hi but this whole quarantine thing kinda keeps me from doing that. :(

I speak English and Spanish and a little bit of Klingon. I cook sometimes but mostly get too much takeout so any good restaurant recommendations are welcome! I like tinkering and video games and SF/F books and movies and shows, like you couldn't tell from the Klingon. I have a cat named Buttercup who is a giant butt and I love him. If you see him outside, I’d really appreciate it if you called or texted because he's not an outdoor kitty.

He'd added a picture of the cat, staring menacingly at the camera as if promising that anyone who tried to pet him would lose a finger. Caitlin smiled in spite of herself.

Hope you have a great day! Cisco Ramon, Apt 202

He'd also added his phone number.

Caitlin read it through a couple of times before looking across the courtyard and up a floor at 202. It being 11:30 at night, the door was shut tight. There was a muted bluish flicker in one of the windows, like he was watching TV. It would be rude to knock on his door at this time of night.

Also, they were all practicing social distancing right now.

Caitlin was a champ at social distancing. She could social-distance on Olympic levels.

She went into her apartment, shutting the door behind her.

***

On her way to the hospital the next morning, she left a plastic container full of cookies on the mat of 202. There was a note carefully taped to the top.

Thank you for your nice note. Here are some cookies to welcome you to the building. They're chocolate chip. If you can't eat them, it's okay to throw them away. I've been baking a lot in quarantine.

She was halfway to the hospital when she realized she hadn't put her name or apartment number on the note. So for all Cisco Ramon knew, some anonymous benefactor had dropped cookies on his doorstep.

She sighed. She really was bad at this, just like Jay had said.

***

There was another note on her door when she got back home, this one hand-written in a sprawling, jagged scrawl.

Hello Cookie Queen!

I hope I'm not creeping you out or anything. I saw you through the window, leaving the cookies this morning, but I didn't want to freak you out by opening up the door right away.

They were delicious. I will happily eat any baked goods that you want to get rid of. That's not a beg, by the way. I can make my own cookies, once I find a good grocery store. (Any recommendations?) Just if you're the kind of person who likes to make entire batches and then has to eat them for the next three weeks, I can help with that. I don't have any allergies or anything.

Anyway I think I've weirded you out enough for one note.

Cisco

***

Hi Cisco

My name is Caitlin Snow and you already know my apartment number. The grocery store I like is the Safeway at the corner of Livingston and Bellmore because they are very firm about masks and disinfecting right now, much better than the Kroger. Also closer. There's a Taco Galaxy across the street from them that delivers until midnight and I like their chicken taco salad.

She stared at the note for a few minutes, then wondered if he would think she was saying a Mexican place because he was clearly Latino. She crossed out and substituted The Golden Wok on Bellmore delivers, and they do a good sweet and sour chicken.

I am a first-year resident so my hours are kind of strange but please let me know if I can ever help out with anything.

Caitlin, Apt 106

She chewed her lip for a moment, then added to the last paragraph before the sign-off, I wasn't weirded out.

Then she wrote it out in pen on a clean sheet of paper and found another plastic container to fill with butterscotch oatmeal cookies.

***

Hi Caitlin!

Nice to have a name and stop calling you Cookie Queen. Unless you want me to continue calling you Cookie Queen, that's okay too. Thank you for the second batch! Just as delish.

I took your tip about the grocery store and stocked up. Also got green pepper beef at the Golden Wok. Nom, nom, nom! Any ruling on the Taco Galaxy across from Safeway?

I'm major impressed with the residency thing btw. Are you doing okay? Is your ICU totally packed? I have a sewing machine because I do cosplay but obvi no cons right now, so I've been making masks and stuff too. Do you need any?

Cisco

***

Cisco,

We're doing okay right now. I'm not treating many COVID cases personally because I'm in my first year, but everybody is doing more than they would have normally. If you have extra cloth masks, I know some shelters and the local food bank are distributing them.

I like the chicken taco salad at Taco Galaxy.

She paused, studying the note. She wanted to continue this conversation. She liked him - his warmth and his humor. Maybe she should start texting him. She had his phone number, after all. Or would that be weird?

She wrote down, Where did you move from?

Caitlin

***

They traded notes back and forth, at least once a day but more often twice. Their correspondence ranged from the mundane - he'd moved from Coast City, she had come here from Gotham - to the personal - neither of them had very good relationships with their families - to the downright philosophical.

I dunno, he wrote one rainy day, I feel like the people who say this is God's punishment or whatever are totally getting God wrong. Like I don't believe in God anymore but if I still did, I don't think I'd believe in that kind of God.

A virus is a virus, she wrote back. There's debate about whether a virus really counts as alive or not, but it's just doing what all life does. The pandemic is definitely down to human hubris and selfishness and shortsightedness. No need for divine punishment. And I don't believe in that kind of God either.

At work, she would mentally compose parts of her next letter during her rare free moments, and every time something funny or strange or horrible happened at the hospital, she found herself telling him about it. No names, of course, because of HIPAA, but writing them down helped her work them out.

The day he mentioned his most recent ex, she caught her breath, a strange flutter in her stomach.

She did a number on me, I'm telling you. It's weird because I do think she liked me, maybe as much as I liked her. It's just she was in some bad stuff with her brother, and she wasn't really interested in getting out. When I realized that she was using me to help him out, I was done. Probably way after I should've been, but that was the last straw. I'm not saying that breakup was why I picked CCU for grad school and moved here two months early but I'm not NOT saying that.

She lay on her couch reading the note over again. His tone was cheerful, as it usually was, but she could almost feel the regret and self-recrimination behind it.

Also, did this mean he was single? He hadn't wrapped it up with any other mention of someone else he was dating now.

I know what that's like, she wrote back. My most recent ex was -

She lifted her pen and stared at the paper. How to describe Jay?

My breakup with my ex was pretty bad too. You just start to doubt everything that you ever thought or felt. Like, is this real or is this another time bomb he put in your head?

God RIGHT he wrote back. The good exes leave nice little presents for you in your head. You think of them because you see a movie they liked or something they used to wear and it just makes you smile. But the bad ones leave freaking land mines and time bombs.

***

More than once, she arrived home to find a bag of takeout or a tupperware full of some recipe he'd tried out. His tastes were a little more adventurous than hers, but she willingly ate whatever he left. Knowing somebody was thinking about her was as nourishing as the meal.

And some of it was really good.

She kept baking, leaving cookies and bread and other treats at his doorstep. Sometimes she experimented, too.

One day as the first leaves were turning, she left a jar with a note taped to the top. I decided to try something. Let me know if Buttercup likes these.

She got a reply within hours.

Buttercup would like to formally request to move into your apartment now, because I'm a terrible kitty papa and never thought of making him treats. Also I'm very cruel because I won't let him eat the entire jar no matter how much he yells. You are a genius.

She laughed and wrote back, Obviously you're an excellent kitty papa because you love Buttercup very much. It was a pretty simple recipe. I'll attach it for you so you can make your own. I'm glad he likes them.

She didn't see a reply on her door that night. This wasn't unprecedented, though it was unusual, and she found herself cycling through a few anxious loops of what-if - what if he was sick? what if he had nothing more to say to her? what if it had been just too weird for her to make treats for his cat? what if he was talking to someone else now?

But the next day when she went out to get her mail, she found a note tucked into her screen door. She grabbed it and opened it up.

Hey I realize this is kind of a weird question since we've been passing notes all this time, but would you be okay with texting? Or FaceTiming or WhatsApp or something? I don't know if you kept my number but here it is again anyway.

She read the short note through a couple of times, trying to identify the feeling bubbling up in her stomach.

She did like writing the letters. There was something so calming and old-fashioned about sitting down with paper and pen and writing everything out that was on her mind. And getting a letter back felt like a present.

But on the other hand, this felt like a step toward something . . . new. Something more. Closer.

She looked up at 202. A curtain twitched, and she caught her breath. Cisco leaned against the glass, spotted her, and lifted his hand in a wave.

She waved back.

She'd seen him a couple of times, leaving something at her door or going to grab his mail. She liked his face and his smile, what she'd seen of them.

He saw the note in her hand. That much was obvious. Even from here, he looked a little nervous. Or maybe that was her, projecting.

She pulled her phone from her pocket and tapped in his number. He looked away from the window, reached out to grab something, and lifted his phone to his ear.

"Hi," she said shyly. "It's Caitlin."

His smile spread over his face, big enough to bathe her in warmth from one floor and a whole courtyard away. "Hi, Caitlin," he said. "Cisco here."

She smiled back. "So. How's your day going?"

It would be a long time before they actually got to meet in person, without a mask. But she was looking forward to it.

FINIS

#Caitlin Snow #Cisco Ramon #killervibe #killervibeweek20 #fanfiction #mosylufanfic lives up to her damn name #current events #neighbors AU #quarantine AU #fluffy fluff #the flash

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supernaturalee · 5 years ago

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Green and Gold: Part 2 - Gwilym Lee x Reader

Pairings: Widow/Single Father! Gwilym Lee x Reader

Warnings: Some swearing, Mentions of X rated thoughts, and more KAREN

Word Count: 4.4k

Previous Parts: One

Summary: When Gwilym lost his wife two years ago he feared raising his daughter alone in a small coastal New Jersey town would be difficult. In the two years since her death, Gwil and Brianne are finally ready to start moving on. Following the words of a child psychologist, Gwil signs Bri up for cheerleading with the local youth squad, something Gwil knows nothing about. As he is thrust in the world of cheer bows and back handsprings, he will learn it takes a lot more than green and gold uniforms to mend his and his daughter’s hearts. Hopefully through the squad they will find strength, friendship, and possibly a spark of new love for the widow himself.

Taglist:@the-baby-bookworm @ixchel-9275 @slutforbritdick @kurt-nightcrawler @radio-hoo-ha @imgonnabeyourslave @queendeakyy @girllety @im-an-adult-ish @what-wicked-delights @drivenbybri

Author’s Note: It’s almost 2 am EST and I thought to myself, why not post part two. We are getting into meat of the story here, y’all! Again, this update is late, but my writing was hard to come by for a while. So without further ado, he is part 2 of Green & Gold. Please let me know if you want to be tagged in future installments.

In the four short weeks since Brianne had started cheerleading practice, Gwilym had come to learn three absolute truths. First being that cheer made Bri happier than Gwil had ever hoped. In the time since that first practice, he had seen her smile more than he had seen since before Angela had passed away. Her eyes lit up now whenever she spoke about how the routine was coming along or how she was learning all of these different things. Such as stunts or new tumbling passages or jumps that had odd names like toe touches, herkies, and pikes. While Gwilym cooked dinner or checked over her homework, he could always hear her routine music coming from the stereo in the living room. Once he got her to wash her hands and then settled at the table. It would become Gwilym’s inquiry into the world of cheerleading and Brianne was more than happy to oblige his many questions.

Bri had taken to cheering like a fish takes to water. It was in her blood, Angela’s cheerleading history flowing through Brianne’s veins now. It made Gwil so happy. She spent three nights a week on the mat now and Saturday during the day at either the home field or away fields cheering on the young football players. The football team’s age coincided with the cheerleaders of Bri's team’s ages. Or the Mustang Pee Wees as Gwil had learned. He had finally found out the difference between the game cheers and the competition cheer as Bri had once told him. He usually sat in the game bleachers trying to decipher how American football was more popular than actual football. Or as Y/N lovingly reminded him every time he complained, “It’s soccer here.” she would say with a smile. At first he thought it was kind of annoying but now anytime she reminded him, he found it endearing. The way her lips curled up in a smile as she said it, he found himself mesmerized by it.

When Brianne wasn’t cheering and once her homework was done, she could be found hanging out with her new friends Jasmine, Joey, and Selma. The carpool Y/N had promised had been fruitful for Brianne and Gwilym on the friendship front. They had been the type of cheer parents Gwilym had hoped for and luckily he got in with them instead of the others. That was the second absolute truth he learned that, cheer parents were absolutely bonkers bananas insane. Karen Diguimi was just the tip of the massive iceberg that was the “Stepford Stangs” as Joe lovingly coined them. Gwil had now become a member of the mailing list. A dreaded place to be that he wouldn’t have agreed to had he known what a nightmare it truly was.

He had now started to receive daily emails with updates on fundraising and how close they were to the nice buses. Game schedules, rule changes, and low fat recipes to keep your little cheerleader in proper cheering shape were among the other important articles. Plus little snide comments on the surrounding towns’ teams and how far superior the Mustangs were to them. It was like a tabloid magazine that Gwil now had a daily subscription too.

Y/N had sent him a long paragraph text about the low carb recipes and how dare the “Stepford Stangs” imply that only certain shaped children could be cheerleaders. ‘It is the middle of October and they are nine and ten years old. WHY DO THEY HAVE TO BE SWIMSUIT READY?! Gwil, you will have to stop me from strangling Karen at the next practice.’ It made Gwilym feel a swell of pride for a moment that he read her text. It caused the return of a certain set of emotions. These feelings that he was feeling were something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Often he would check over the email for that week’s game schedule then file the email away. His new gang of misfit parents would mock the over ridiculous links in the emails or the fact that they received a new one every day. Joe always sent a meme or two about them, while Rami commented on the complete lack of email etiquette. ‘It’s too many emails and too many people hit Reply All instead of reply. It is chaotic!’ Rami had sent in their group chat. ‘I think its nice to keep us informed with the same information that we knew yesterday.’ Lucy had added. Gwil finally being able to put a face to the name as he met Rami’s other half at the first football game of the year. She was blonde, slim, and in a way almost fairy like. Her movements were graceful but she had this hidden strength to her. Rami and Lucy complimented each other well. Rami was a computer engineer, who like Gwil, could do most of his work from home. Lucy, on the other hand, was a certified midwife and a nurse at the local OBGYN. Often traveling between the hospital and the doctor office. Their schedules mostly allow for their twin girls’ busy sports schedules to work. Joe ran an accounting firm but swore he was bad at math. He stated he liked the business but preferred leaving the accounting to his dedicated small team of accountants.

Finally, the third absolute truth that Gwilym Lee knew was that Wednesday nights were now his favorite night of the week. It was the only night parents were allowed to stay for the whole practice. This meant about two hours of watching Bri have the most fun and grow into an even stronger, more beautiful young woman. It also meant getting to spend time with his new friends including Y/N. Y/N had quickly become Gwil’s confidant in all things cheer related. Any question or need he had, she had the answer and was always there with a smile. It was just another reason why Gwil was now harboring a crush on this woman. He and Bri had not seen her coming. He thought he would scrap by with googled information and keep his head down. He would be quiet and lonely, knowing just enough to get by.

Yet there was Y/N with her intelligence, her helping hand, and her kind heart. Bri also loved her and Jasmine. She was treated with so much love, respect, and care by Y/N. Gwil found it hard to keep himself from melting every time he was in her gaze. He felt like a teenage boy with a crush. He had confided in Ben who told him to get back on the horse. However, to Gwil, the horse was a twenty foot tall bear that was very hungry. Angela was still on his mind, in his life, in his heart. He saw her every day in the brown eyes of his daughter. He feared that any new relationship he would start would be doomed to be branded as the rebound relationship for the man with the dead wife. Even if he found someone, they had to pass the most important test in his book, being well loved by the most important person in his life, Brianne. He shook away the heavy thoughts as the red light turned green. He pressed his foot on the gas as he continued the drive to practice. Bri and Jasmine chatting in the back of his car.

Y/N had asked him to pick Jasmine up from school and drive her to practice. Y/N had a meeting with the college board about one of her students. She would meet them at the cheer gym later. Gwil’s mind couldn’t help but wander to Y/N. He hoped her meeting went well. He knew in just the short few weeks of knowing her that her job meant a tremendous amount to her. Professor Y/L/N had a very nice ring to it. His mind wandering further to dirtier thoughts. If they were ever to be together would she let him play the teacher's pet. His fantasy slowly took form in his head when Bri’s voice snapped him back to reality.

“Dad?” No answer came from the driver’s seat. “Earth to dad. Father?” She laughed. Gwil pushed all X rated thoughts from his mind and looked to the rear view.

“Hmm?” He answered, putting on a small smile to show her that he has really been paying attention the whole time.

“Could Jasmine and Ms. Y/L/N come to dinner with us?” Bri asked sweetly. The two had joined them for dinner every Wednesday night since that first practice.

“Please Mr. Lee!” Jasmine used the same sweet voice. Gwil rubbed his jaw with his free hand as the two girls started repeating the world please.

“Please please please please please please please please please please please please please!” Bri and Jasmine begged together. Gwilym laughed, smiling.

“It is fine with me but we will have to ask your aunt, Jasmine, when we see her.” He said. Both girls cheered happily as they looked at each other.

“Of course Mr. Lee!” Jasmine smiled. “Aunt Y/N likes getting dinner with you and Bri.” Jasmine said. Gwil felt his cheeks heat up for a moment. This came as a surprise to him in a way. Sure he knew she cared about their friendship but maybe this meant she also felt something more for him. He quickly pushed this thought away, no it wasn’t a good time for him to get into a new relationship. I’m not ready. His thoughts continued his mantra.

“Well we like having dinner with both of you as well, dear.” He answered her. Jasmine’s smile grew. She was a wonderful little girl who Gwilym had grown to care for. She didn’t know what she was doing for Brianne, but Gwil did and how it helped her improve immensely. He had known his daughter had tried to hide her sadness from him. It was something she tried to do to prove she was strong like Angela but she didn’t need to. Gwil and her grandparents knew that Brianne had every ounce of Angela’s strength tenfold.

As he pulled into the parking lot of the cheer gym he saw Y/N’s Jeep had not yet arrived. He also didn’t see Joe’s or Rami’s cars either which meant he would be alone. He would most likely have to face yet another conversation with Karen. Or he could just hide out in his car until his friends arrived. He shook his head for a moment, he had to go inside, he could handle this. As both young girls made their way inside, Gwil followed behind them making sure both safely got in the building.

He signed both in at the desk where the young man who Gwil had learned was one of the coaches’ sons sat. He gave the teenaged boy a wave before moving to his usual spot in the bleachers. He had settled into the groove of sitting with everyone, Gwil sat on a lower bench due to his height, while Y/N sat on the bleacher bench above him so she could make eye contact easier. Rami would sit above her and then Joe would sit beside her, the four almost making a little diamond of security. His blue eyes looked around the room before he spotted her.

Karen was talking to some of the other team parents, her eyes scanning the room for him. He dropped his head down trying to hide himself from her.

“Oh Gwilym!” She exclaimed, moving to him. Gwil sat up straight, damn he had been caught. He politely smiled and nodded. Please don’t come over, please don’t come over, please don’t come over… He repeated in his head, it was too little too late. She made her way over to his place of peace and quiet.

“Hello Mrs. Digumi.” He said politely. Her smile grew. Damn, his British charm. She stood in front of him.

“Please call me Karen.” She smiled still. “I wanted to ask how everything was going with Brianne. She is quite the little cheerleader. One of the best on the squad. Almost as good as my little McKenna.”

“Thank you. I will tell her that later. She certainly seems to be enjoying it and that makes me happy.” He said honestly, maybe he was wrong about Karen.

“You should have her over for a play date with my McKenna. You and I can exchange parenting tips or tips of some other kind.” She batted her heavily mascaraed eyes at him. He gulped softly.

“I will have to talk to Bri about it and get back to you Mrs. Dig-Karen.” He corrected himself.

“I am just saying Brianne seems like a very sweet girl and you don’t want her to get in with the wrong crowd before middle school. Popularity is key and my little McKenna is going to be one of the most popular girls in school. Just like I was. If Brianne settles herself with the likes of those children, her social life is over and I don’t want that for her or for you. Popularity is everything.” She said as she sat next to him. No, he wasn’t wrong about Karen.

Wrong crowd? What the hell, they are children not teenagers. He thought to himself before defending the children of his friends. Popularity is everything. What a bunch of bullocks.

“Jasmine, Joey, and Selma are good kids. They are smart, fun, courteous, kind and they are Bri’s friends. They were the first ones to welcome her with open arms,” He said. Gwil was a bit taken aback that a grown woman would say something like that about ten year olds. If Bri and Jasmine weren’t on the mat about 50 feet away, he would have forgotten his manners and let Karen have it.

“I don’t appreciate you talking that way about my friends’ children or about your child’s fellow teammates.” He continued, his tone was serious and sharp. Her eyes went wide as she heard the manner in which he spoke.

“Oh! I didn’t mean the kids! I meant, um, the parents.” She was quick to backtrack and try to fix her mistake. Her chance with the Welsh man slipping away. “Gwilly, you are new to all of this. I should have specified that I meant that if Brianne settles herself with the likes of the parents of those children, her social life is over. You both deserve so much but you are still so naive, honey.”

“My name is Gwilym.” He stated. She had called him Gwilly, a nickname that Angela would lovingly call him after a few glasses of wine. How dare this woman even try to put herself in the same realm of love as his wife.

“I am so sorry honey.” She smiled to try to cover up the large hole she had dug for herself. “Like I was saying to you that first practice those parents you have chosen to bond with don’t understand the mustang way.” It was clear to Gwilym that Karen intended to keep digging. “Especially Y/N, I mean she likes to pretend she was a good cheerleader because she was once a national champion herself. But she was the worst one of that team, I should know, I did date her brother.” Karen said as jealousy slipped between each word. It was clear to her that Gwilym cared more for Y/N than he would ever care for her. “They carried her to the gold medal and she got the recognition for it like everyone else. Even made her brother break up with me, how dare she. That bitch.” That was the final straw for him.

“I am going to stop you right there, Mrs. Diguimi. I do not want to hear you ever bad mouth my friends or their children. Please understand I am friendly with you because I have to be. You are the team mom and I do not really like having issues with anyone. However, my daughter is the only reason I am here. Y/N, Joe, Lucy and Rami plus their amazing children came as an incredible bonus to all of this. You did not.” He said calmly. “Now please step away from me and know, this is the last conversation we will have that is not about fundraising or cheering information. I do not take kindly to people belittling others or their children for their own personal benefit. Thank you and have a good night.”

Karen let out a breath of air through her nose, standing up quickly. Moving from the bleachers, staring him down.

“Oh I understand.” Her voice dripped with sweetly sickening venom. “If you ever change your mind I am right over there with the good parents.” She moved to the other waiting ‘Stepford Stangs’. Gwil let out a long breath as a smile appeared on his lips. God, how good it felt to let her have it and god how he wished Y/N had seen him. She would be so proud once he told her. It was the sudden sound of two voices that drew him away from his fantasy.

“I see you are on the list now.” Rami said as he and Joe joined Gwilym in the bleachers.

“List?” He asked, tilting his head curiously.

“I’ll let Joe explain.” Rami smiled.

“It is Karen Diguimi’s way of saying you are cancelled until you apologize.” Joe smirked. “We just caught the tail end of what you were saying but from what we heard, it was fucking brilliant.” He said quietly enough for just the three men to hear. “Welcome to the list. I have been on it since the ‘I won’t let my underage child wash stranger’s cars in the shortest shorts debacle of last summer season.” Joe said.

“Rami, how did you end up on the list? It seems like she likes you the most out of all of us.” Gwil asked. Rami chuckled.

“I once asked her if the pom poms for adults were necessary at a competition because it was just one extra thing to carry.”

“That’s not too bad.”

“She also hates my wife.”

“Ah, I see.”

“So we both reside on the list with Joe and Y/N.”

“What did Y/N do to get on the list?”

“What hasn’t she done to get on the list?” Joe laughed. “First it was being Dominic Y/L/N’s little sister during high school. Then it was becoming Jasmine’s key guardian when he died, then it was a few other arbitrary things I don’t remember, but most recently, it was getting you to be our friend instead of hers.” Joe said.

“It’s a rite of passage to get on the list.” Rami said. All three men laughed as Gwil felt more at peace than ever before. Even though Karen had basically verbally bashed children in front of him and badmouthed Y/N, she did provide one key piece of vital information. Y/N as a former national champion for the Mustangs, maybe even on the same squad as his late wife. He marked it in his brain to ask her later.

As practice started and the three men continued their conversation, still no Y/N. Part of Gwilym began to worry that something bad had happened. He checked his phone to see if she had called or texted but nothing. He tried to push the worry to the back of his mind as Joe began to talk about the upcoming competition this weekend. It was the same thing Bri had not stopped talking about for the past week. Even as he got her and Jasmine into the car today, they talked about their nervous excitement for it.

Joe was going to ride up with Rami and Lucy. Figuring Gwil would want to carpool with Y/N. Actually all three of them, Joe, Rami, and Lucy, hoped something would blossom between the two.

“Oh I hadn’t even thought to ask her. It is probably too late, I will just drive up myself.” He said he was a bit disappointed he hadn’t asked.

“She’ll say yes if you do ask.” Rami smled.

“She might not.” Gwil continued.

“Oh no, she will definitely say yes.” Joe smiled slyly. Both men looked at each like they both held the same secret that Gwil wasn’t privy to. It was at that moment Y/N moved into the gym still in her work clothes. Her blazer that was once covering the purple silk blouse, was replaced by a jean jacket. She wore black slacks and black vans.

“I don’t drive in heels, I don’t want to be responsible for that many lives.” She had told him their first Wednesday night dinner out with the girls. He knew that she kept a pair of black lace up vans in her Jeep for the drive home from the university.

“Speak of the Devil and she shall appear.” Joe teased her as she sat in her usual spot. She laughed and Gwil’s heart skyrocketed into flight.

“Ha ha. Good to see you, Mozzarella.” She snarked.

“That’s Mr. Mozzarella to you.” Joe answered. Both tossing their heads back gently and laughed. There went Gwil’s pulse racing for a moment.

“Did I miss anything?”

“Gwil’s on the list.”

“No!”

“Oh hell yeah!”

“How? Tell me! I have to know how Karen’s little lust for you somehow got you on the list.”

“Karen’s little what?” Gwil said.

“Dude, she wanted to bone you.” Joe said. “Hard.”

“Bone?” He asked.

“Sleep with you, knock boots, cherry pick, dude I know too analogies for sex.”

“She’s married!” Gwil exclaimed quietly to the group.

“Hasn’t stopped her before.” Y/N said. “Anyway, tell me how you got on the list.”

Gwilym began to tell the story of her confrontation with Karen. His own smile grew as he watched Y/N’s own smile grow as he got to the words match.

“Mr. Lee you are bloody brilliant.” She said, her hand rubbed his arm for a moment before she withdrew it. Gwil blushed.

“It was nothing.”

“This is cause for celebration. You being on the list. We will all go out kid free and celebrate soon.” Joe said.

“Sounds good to me.” Rami agreed. Y/N nodded, her eyes looking up and waving to Jasmine as the girl waved back.

“Hey Y/N, did you know Gwilym here was going to drive to Trenton all alone?” Joe stated. Gwil’s eyes went wide as he looked at the man over Y/N’s shoulder. He felt his cheeks heat up.

“Really?” She asked.

“Yeah. He was going to drive by himself.”

“Why don’t you ride with me? It isn’t as long as a drive if you have a partner.” She offered him. Her Y/E/C eyes meeting his blue. A small smile on her lips.

“Um, you won’t mind?” He asked shyly.

“No, it will be a treat to spend time with you alone.” She said honestly, all the room felt almost like it was silent around them. Joe and Rami watching the two just share prolonged eye contact. Gwil could almost swear there was a light pink tinge on her cheeks as well.

“Then it's all set. I’d love to ride with you.” He smiled. The tinge got a bit darker.

Joe poked his head between the two, “Is your, um, neighbor coming?” He asked her. His voice was almost giddy, like Gwil’s when he talked about Y/N on the phone to Ben. Who was this woman that was making Joe act like the same lovestruck teenager he was?

“Oh no. Unfortunately, Jolene had one of her advanced painting classes rescheduled to Saturday. It is too much money to miss out on but she promised Jasmine she was coming to Regionals.” Y/N said as she raked her hair up into a messy ponytail.

“Oh.” Joe’s smile faded quickly.

“You know you could just ask her out. She likes you too.” Y/N patted her friend’s shoulder. Joe shook his head.

“The divorce is still too fresh to Joey. It wouldn’t be fair to him for me to get involved with someone new so soon after his mother and I split up.” Joe admitted. Gwilym understood that point. A divorce was a similar loss to a child as a parent passing. Everything became different over night for them, changing so suddenly. Joe and his ex were friendly enough to a point for the sake of their son. The one thing that will keep them forever linked.

“Okay honey. One day though, Joey is just going to want his dad to be happy.” She said with a soft smile to their friend. Joe just nodded looking over at his son.

How Karen could ever call this wonderful woman a bitch was past Gwilym’s arena of thought. He looked at Y/N and smiled. God how beautiful she is even in the lighting of this gym. He thought to himself. As more time passed for the practice, the three experienced cheer parents told Gwilym everything he would need to know to be ready for Saturday. How he would have to have Brianne ready before 6 am to get her to the gym so that the team could take a bus together to the arena before driving there with Y/N. He would have to make sure he paced enough bobby pins, snacks, water, everything. His worry level that he would mess this all up grew. Especially the idea that he would have to do her hair in a high slick back ponytail. Brianne had hair like her mom’s thick and wavy, he could barely get it into braids without at least three Youtube tutorials.

“How about this? I bring Jasmine over at like 5. I can do both of their hair and you can make sure they have enough snacks?” Y/N offered, once again being the incredible person that she was.

“Please. I fear what I would do to my poor girl’s head.” He said honestly.

“I think you would be fine, but the first competition is the scariest for both the parent and the cheerleader.”

“It will put not only my mind at rest but Bri’s mind too. Thank you Y/N.”

“Anything for you, Gwil.” She smiled. “Oh and um, thanks for standing up for the kids earlier with Karen. She can talk all the crap she wants about me but Jasmine doesn’t deserve that. It means a lot to me and it shows me how wonderful of a human being you are.” She said before turning her attention back to the mat. His heart raced again. God, Wednesday nights really were his favorite.

#green and gold #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym x reader #gwilym lee imagines #gwilym lee #bohemian rhapsody #midsomer murders #Lucy Boynton #rami malek #joe mazzello #ben hardy

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instrawberrymoonlight · 4 years ago

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10 Things I Love About You

Every time I watch that scene where they call you a freak I get so angry. I know it’s cliché to say they hate what they don’t understand but I firmly believe it in this case; they only superficially put up with you because you show them a way “out” to all their problems and it’s completely despicable. Self preservation prevails, I guess, at least to them and it’s insufferable and deeply saddening.

Everything about you is brilliant and I’d never truly be able to describe the way I feel about you ever, because language is so restrictive, but at the very least I can mean the things I say. And, I do. In every sense of the word. So, just because I’m a lovesick puppy and I’ve never truly been able to convey a fraction of the feelings I have for you, I’m writing this: 10 Things I Love About You. (Yeah I know it’s a very creative list name, thank you).

One

Your smile, as silly and swoony as it sounds, captivates me. It’s contagious and lights up my world. You’re the star of the show in my universe and I could stare at your dimples and the way your eyes crease up when you smile – when you genuinely smile – forever. It’s a sight to behold and on the rare occasion it slips and I’ve been blessed with the chance of seeing it, it stays with me. It’s almost like my own precious little secret that I get to cherish and recall until the end of my days. (Also sometimes your nose scrunches when you smile and unfortunately I could only talk about 10 things so I couldn’t insert a whole paragraph on how amazing and cute your nose is so I’m putting a short except here – PLEASE LET ME KISS IT PLEASE PLEASE AAAAAAAAAA.

Two

Your eyes. There’s an intensity to them and while their darkness has struck fear in the hearts of many, it has only won mine. They’re a beautiful, unique shade – never to be replicated in another, and are distinctly you. They’re also incredibly emotive, I can always tell when you’re thinking hard about something and I can always tell, even if it’s for a split second, when something has bothered you. They’re just so diaphanous. And that’s not to say you’re easy to read but rather the insight into your soul is through your eyes; there’s also a warmth to them as well. A heat. While your touch can be cold, and I usually identify you by your chilling presence, your eyes capture the fire within; It embodies you. When the flame is fuelled by passion (gasoline for humans) it epitomises your unfettered wildness and your freedom. And when calm, it provides this sense of shelter to the people who love you and consider you family; your eyes reflect that blanket of warmth. That hidden side you only show to those close enough. Both are dazzling and I’m so glad to have met you – and to be able to interact with you.

Three

Your scars. As superficial as it sounds, I find them gorgeous. I want to kiss them softly and treat them so gently. To tell you the truth, and to let you in on a little secret, I get really defensive over them. I hope this doesn’t sound like I’m fetishising them in any way but I’d love to see you without your makeup more often. I don’t want this to come across as pushy or anything, I promise this is only if you’re comfortable I would never want to put you in an uncomfortable position. I just want you to know that what I feel for you isn’t shallow and it isn’t based on the symbol you’ve built yourself as. It isn’t because you wear make-up and you hide yourself; my love isn’t conditional. I’ve fallen in love with you, the man beneath the make-up, Alexander Harper, for nothing more than the reason that you’re amazing. Sorry, I’m kinda focusing on this point so much because I feel so strongly about them. I feel as though you’ve been wrongly told, for a good chunk of your life, that they’re horrific for whatever reason. I feel as though you’ve gotten weird looks because of them, or like I mentioned earlier, that you’ve been called a freak. The idea of any of these being the case completely riles me up, it’s so fucked up to think about anyone shaming you for them. Personally, I think they’re a bold portrayal of your personal strength (of which I’ll touch on later – spoilers), and a show of your resilience in an all too often fucked up world. They’re beautiful, and they will never not be. If you aren’t proud of them yet, or if there’s a part of you that’s still somewhat ashamed of them, I will personally tell you anytime I can that they’re beautiful to me and are a representation of hope until you take pride in them. Or at least start to believe it. Even then, I’ll never shut up about it. Battle scars, whether metaphorical or literal, are always valid and are a big fuck you to not only mental illness – mostly the voices that try to destroy you from within – but are also a big fuck you to our abusers. It’s saying in big bold writing “hey fuckers, I survived despite all the shit you’ve thrown my way,” and that’s something we victims don’t get to experience enough.

Four

Your ability to unapologetically be yourself. I think this one’s mostly self explanatory. You have this amazing capability to set aside the social dogma and the fear it instils regarding individuality. You know who you are and what you want and it's inspiring, especially since I personally struggle with identity and navigation. Your confidence in your belief system and in a lot of ways, yourself, is something I also look up to and I hope that one day I can reach a point like that too. You probably already know this and if it isn’t overt enough it’s sure as hell implicit – I look up to you so much. You’re one of my idols and maybe that’s daunting or a lot of pressure but as long as you keep being you I assure you there’s nothing you could ever do to deter me or make me feel differently. I’d also like to quickly touch on how accepting you are of mental illness and of your own! None of that matters to you and it creates such a safe space. You’re so incredibly patient with me. I can only hope I’ve been able to create the same feeling reversed! Lastly, I love all your little idiosyncrasies – the way you speak and move your hands, the way you flick your tongue against your scars (which weirdly enough never triggers my misophonia, you’re like the only exception) the way you pronounce things and draw out words, the way you interrupt yourself with hums and ahs and other butterfly inducing noises. It’s so perfectly you and it joys me to no end.

Five

Your strength. I don’t want to get too specific into trauma because this is meant to be uplifting and I just want to stray away from the prospect of triggering you as best as I can so I’ll try my best to keep it short; though, there are some things I want to say–

Holy fucking shit you are strong. You are so so strong. And that’s probably the most vaguest, cliche thing I’ve said yet but I fucking believe it with all my possum heart. Your childhood and the relentless degradation you endured by a parental figure who was meant to protect you, but instead disgustingly treated you like no child ever should be treated was horrific. What he did to you was unspeakable and the way you feel about my abuser hits the nail on the head regarding how I feel about your father. I’m sure you were the sweetest kid when you were younger and none of what happened was any fault of your own. You deserved to have your needs met and deserved to be treated with such love and compassion. You still do. There wasn’t something wrong with you, you didn’t cause your trauma. I know it’s really hard to believe that when you’ve experienced incredible distress and it can really fuck with your perceptions but I’m here to tell you that none of that is true. To put it in perspective, Arthur, Kali and I have experienced similar thought patterns. We’ve all doubted ourselves and believed at one point or another that we’re just awful and that we deserved it but it’s a lie abusers have ingrained in us. I’m not sure if anyone has told you this properly but I just want you to know this, please. I’m kind of going on a whole tangent here but this is so important. I just want the best for you and I want you to want that too. I want you to take care of yourself more, to be more patient with yourself – at the very least for me. You deserve to break out of this vicious cycle trauma imprints on us all.

Further, going to war is arguably one of the most harrowing things a person can experience. I’m really not going to get in on the details here because it’s pretty self-explanatory too. You’re my hero Alexander, you encompass courage and resilience more than anyone can. Despite everything you’ve been though, in the end you’re still fighting in what you believe is right and fighting against oppression. Your spirit cannot be crushed and it’s really touching. My big dumb borderline heart feels so much for it and for you. I love you so completely.

Six

Your humour. You seem to make the darkest situation into the brightest. You’re so quick witted and it never fails to make me laugh. Your secret love for puns, which I feel like you’ll deny because they’re cheesy but it slips a few times in the film, is the most adorable thing I’ve seen. It’s so so so endearing and I’m giggling to myself as I write this.

Seven

Your voice is angelic and it has the power to give me butterflies. Continuing this thought, I always found it funny that no one can replicate it, at least I personally think; people fall short when they try to mimic you and it’s interesting. There’s just something about you that makes you incredibly unique and even when people try, they can never truly be you. Maybe this sounds like a crazy love ramble but you’re special. It’s why you’ve captured the hearts of so many and it’s why I’ve given you mine in full. Speaking of hearts, this leads me to my next point.

Eight

Your heart – you say you don’t have one though your heart is especially brilliant. I’ve seen it, albeit hidden, it’s big and has sustained despite the things you’ve been through. Apart from Kali and Arthur I’ve never had someone care for me as much as you, I’ve never had anyone treat me so gently and I’ve never had anyone validate my experiences the way you have. Despite experiencing all the bullshit judgement people project onto you (evident within the first few minutes of the film) you remain one of the most understanding, non-judgemental and comforting people I know. I have a feeling like you’d disagree with me about all this or try and block out what I’m saying by replying with “im dangerous” but I’m telling you I’ve never felt safer around anyone more than you – particularly in your arms. As someone who has a serious problem with people touching them and getting close to them physically or relationship-wise, I’m telling you Alexander Harper, that I trust you with my life and I feel wholly protected by you. I know you’d never hurt me, you’re terrified of doing so. I’d let my guard down with you any day, and I don’t do that. I want you to know you’re precious to me, every single side of you; every single part of you. You don’t scare me. I know how hard it is to open up and I’m so so so happy you’ve chosen me and the family to trust in. Just know that you don’t have to hide anymore. You can be yourself. And maybe this is pushing it, maybe this is me overstepping, I hope it isn’t but it’s okay to be the young Alexander you never got to be. It’s okay to let go and enjoy things and to do the things you want to do. To open up, to show people you have these feelings. I just want this to come across as a friendly reminder, like a little caress on the cheek because I can understand it all: the hiding, trying to pretend that you have no emotions at all, trying to pretend that you’re okay, self sabotaging relationships and the personal relationship you have with yourself. You don’t have to do this anymore though my love, you don’t have to go through this alone. I want nothing more than to support you and be with you when you’re going through your worst. I love all parts of you, remember?

Nine

Your playful side and your passions (yes I’m sticking two points into one, it’s not cheating, deal with it raccoon boy). Even if it’s small things like crosswords or rubik's cubes, to sliding down money piles and scribbling on newspapers (or um,,,,, taunting police) you have this sweet proclivity for mischief. It’s so endearing and I swear I fall more in love with you as the seconds go by. I love it when you fixate on something and create elaborate plans, it's riveting to watch them unfold – kind of like finishing a puzzle and watching the pieces come together. It’s so satisfying, and knowing you’re the man behind the plan makes it all the more thrilling; but my favourite thing of all is that it’s an insight into your mind (which I’ll also touch on next). On the flip side, you have this staggering ability to think on the spot under pressure, you always know exactly what to do or what to say. It’s awe-inspiring. You’re perfect.

Ten

Your mind, I love the way it works and ticks. If I could spend hours asking you questions and asking your opinions on things I would. I don’t want this to come across like I want to psychoanalyse you and pick your brain in the worst way like some lab experiment. I’m just so interested in the way you view and perceive the world, even with the most mundane things. I just want to hear you talk. Like I said, I look up to you so much and I enjoy spending time with you. I guess you’re not the only one who likes reactions ha h. I’m hilarious.

And finally, in the memorable words of Frankie Valli—

I love you, baby.

(Yes I know that was cheesy, kill me).

#MMM YES #THIS ENOUGH SUGAR FOR YOU #HFDIUHFSDIUFHSUD #priestess to high priest

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maesterkenobi · 5 years ago

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how I run my blog

Tagged by: as usual I’ve stolen it from @mynameisanakin Tagging: no one, i am too lazy and i follow like 14 people so. just do it if you want to.

SPEED: is not my forte. I try my best, but there are several factors that work against me in this aspect: 1) I’m a chronic procrastinator 2) I’m scatterbrained 3) I have more than one blog 4) I almost never write replies that are less than two paragraphs and I want it to make sense and be good and be enjoyable for my partner, so it takes time. I almost never reply the same day (MAYBE on discord, because there my replies are way shorter and it’s mostly to my best friend), and you’re lucky if I reply within a week. I really try to be faster on this blog because I made a promise to myself (and I was doing okay until the whole virus thing happened and I ran into a bunch of personal problems) AND I am keeping a low profile on this blog so it doesn’t get overwhelming. Long story short, if you are looking for a super active daily replies partner, I am not it for you. If you’re okay with waiting for a while but getting more developed stories and longer replies in turn, then we should talk :)

REPLIES: Are on the longer side on this blog. I don’t really have the patience for one liners because they tend to go nowhere and then feel like bread crumbs of randomness all over my blog. They’re okay sometimes, but more often than not they feel like crack. Writing replies is really exhausting for me sometimes, but I try to force myself because I WANT to do it, I’m just having issues concentrating on one thing at a time so it takes me forever.

STARTERS: I don’t write welcoming starters because 8 out of 10 times they get ignored or are so random that they lead nowhere. If someone writes me a welcoming starter, it depends on the content but usually I’ll try to make it work for me and reply. I don’t often like starter calls because most people write absolutely pointless starters. For example they’ll write a paragraph of explaining what their muse did all day (unrelated to my muse), then walk into some random place they’ve never been to (e.g. a shady bar) and suddenly get surprised by my muse being there, and/or, my personal favorite, say something like “what the hell do you want from me”? Which I struggle with for several reasons. One, if you create a setting but don’t bother explaining why we’re there, you put the entire weight of explaining that (aka creating the actual setting) on ME, but you add an additional complication by making it something that I didn’t come up with, so now I have to introduce a world YOU invented with 0 idea of why you chose that particular location in the first place. Second, you put my muse in a situation that makes no sense for them and again force me to explain that, without even giving me a good reason to. And third, I play very different muses, but most of them are going to lose interest in the conversation immediately if the first thing you say to them is rude af. So, yeah, I actually really struggle with most random starters. Please just plot with me and then I will love you forever for writing me a plotted starter that I know will not create 400 questions in my head that I then have to bother you with, which makes me feel like a nuisance. (Or at least keep the setting neutral? Or try to come up with something that seems reasonable for my muse? I always try to do that and when I am unsure, I message the person who liked my starter calls.) Speaking of which, I rarely post starter calls, because.. well, like I just kind of explained, it’s comes with responsibility and work. And I’m lazy.

INBOX: is open for memes at all times, and questions of any kind. I often don’t get notified, so I sometimes see certain messages months later - when that happens, I usually don’t reply anymore if they’re anon because I’ll assume that person forgot or isn’t even around anymore. Sorry about that! It’s an issue I’ve had on several blogs and I don’t know how to fix it. Anon hate is deleted without comment, unless I feel there’s a point in replying to it publicly, or if it’s entertaining. I don’t roleplay via inbox and therefore any “ic” questions or interactions posted in there will be treated as a one-time meme, if I can reply to them at all. Asks of sexual nature from complete strangers will usually be ignored because Obi-Wan isn’t the muse for that at all. As I’ve stated in my rules I only roleplay with mutuals and therefore won’t roleplay with someone I don’t follow, even if they ignore that rule and start rping with me via inbox. I don’t mean to be dismissive, but I have these rules for a reason and I ask that people read and respect them.

SELECTIVITY: I am selective with whom I follow because I have limited time and energy for this blog (and all my blogs) and therefore find it irresponsible and pointless to accept 600 followers and threads when I know I can’t possibly reply to even 10% of them. Before I follow someone (back) I look at their blogs; in particular at their writing (to see if I like their style and their portrayal), their rules (to see what they like/dislike and if our general understanding of the RPC, roleplay, and in a way social interactions in general go well together), and sometimes their OOC posts to get a feeling of how the other person is. (Obviously I also sometimes don’t follow back when I don’t know the muse or fandom at all.) Blog rules and ooc posts can say A LOT about a person, and there are plenty of people in the RPC (in any fandom) that quickly rose to tumblr fame with shiny graphics and fancy formatting and dozens of well-developed verses and headcanons, but they straight up suck as people outside of writing. My rules state very clearly that I discourage hateful comments, mob mentality and callout culture, and unfortunately many “popular” blogs use exactly these tools to execute their power (which comes from being admired for all the wrong reasons). So, I know many people think being selective means you only pick partners with fancy graphics and poetic writing, but for me it actually means I want decent human beings as partners. I don’t give a shit if you format your posts (as long as you cut them) or if you have a blog with a fancy theme, or just a rules google doc, or if you use icons or not. If I like your writing and you seem like a nice and reasonable person, I’m good to go. If you talk to me about dogs I’m even better to go.

WISHLIST: I always try to have one because I find it very helpful when looking for plot ideas with new partners. I will look at yours if you like a plotting call or something too, but I know not everyone has a wishlist~

HONEST NOTE: I’m not a teenager anymore and I’ve been rping for over 14 years. I work with lots of strangers, I study for a job with lots of strangers. I think about philosophical concepts a lot, about morality and human behavior and I’ve come to the conclusion that kindness, empathy and compassion are some of the core values every single person should focus on to make the world a better place. I have no patience and no interest in engaging in the absolute toxic and harmful hate movement that’s taken over this website (and other social media platforms) in whatsoever way. Occasionally I’ll make a salty comment about it, but only because I’ve had it up to here. I am here to enjoy fandom the way I used to, and the way it used to be meant to be enjoyed - not to completely ignore real issues like world politics, economical and environmental crises, in order to entertain witch hunts on people who happen to enjoy a fictional ship that isn’t 300% approved by puritan statutes of the 1600s. I am responsible for the content I seek out online, and so are you. Does it suck when I see something I dislike? Sure. Is it the fault of the person who posted it? No. Especially not when I read their rules first, like I’m supposed to, and they clearly state that the thing I dislike will appear on their blog. And even if they didn’t, it was my choice to go on their blog and look at their content. If you can’t handle taking responsibility for the content you seek out online, then you are probably not old enough to use the internet unsupervised. I am free to write, read, and post on my personal blog whatever I want, as long as I am not breaking the law. Liking a fictional ship that involves an age gap? Not illegal. Liking a fictional ship that involves siblings? Not illegal. Liking a fictional ship in which one party was abusive to the other at some point? Not illegal. Liking a fictional character who killed your fave? Not illegal. It’s fictional. Get over it. And if you really think that seeing fictional characters or ships online that YOU consider “problematic” is hurting people in real life, then you should join those politicians who burn books that are “corrupting the people’s morals and minds”, who ban video games because they “make gamers violent”, and censor songs from the radio because they “present biased views on people of public importance”. Please reflect on your behavior. Destroying someone’s life because they liked something you don’t, telling them to commit suic/ide, ruining their chance of making friends who maybe share their love for a ship or character.. that’s bullying. Some of the cases I’ve seen on here were so severe, they qualify as serious cyberbullying and should be reported to the police. I don’t give a fuck if you hate Rey/lo or Damon Salva/tore, or the Joker. You don’t go and send someone messages telling them to kill themselves because they RP it. Because that is the real crime. And finally, if you feel the need to “educate” someone you consider “problematic” for whatever reason and you actually approach them - make sure you’re actually there to educate and discuss, not to throw an opinion at them and get aggressive when they don’t immediately magically agree. Because chances are they won’t. If you choose to open a dialogue, make sure it IS a fucking dialogue and not a condescending monologue. Learn how to shape an argument, find evidence to back up your claims - because not only will you become better at talking to people in any kind of situation, you’ll also maybe realize that your opinion wasn’t as well-founded as you thought.

#.tag game #.munday #.ooc

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83gigsof90semocore-blog · 5 years ago

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Bonus post: Everybody Hurts - Review

So the letter D is going along nicely, but before that I'm going to do something quite different, namely a book review.

My hope is that my pseudo-academic academic style will be complemented nicely by exploring what other people have written on the genre. I hope to do more of these eventually, but probably not at a too steady rate because I can be rather lazy when it comes to reading.

Everybody hurts is a book published in 2007 that was written by Leslie Simon, who at the time worked as an editor for Alternative Press and Trevor Kelly who worked as a staff writer, also for Alternative Press. The book is actually quite different from my blog in many respects. Aside from the obvious ones, it isn't specifically focused on 90's emo but instead on what in 2007 was considered contemporary emo. Also unlike my blog it's focused on emo culture (the cover says "an essential guide to emo culture") as opposed to just music.

Some background: The 4th wave, Real Emo and the death of Scene culture

Part of what makes this book interesting to me is that it's very much a product of its time. The story that it tells about the music and community surrounding it is incredibly different than what would have been told in the 90's and even more so today.

So, first some basics: Emo is a very broad term that at many points have meant different things. One popular way to categorize it is by splitting it into 4 (or 5) waves. We have the first wave which refers to the offshoot of hardcore-punk that is the origin of the genre. The second wave is much more influenced by indie, alt-rock and pop. It's much less overtly punky, depending on where you draw the line between first and second wave. The third wave (which corresponds to the time period when this book was written) consists to a large degree of pop-punk and poppy post-hardcore. This is the period of time in which emo music was the most commercially successful and emo culture was properly cemented in the public conciousness. Finally, we have the fourth wave also known as the "emo revival". Now, this is where things get interesting.

As the name implies, emo revival was a movement concerned with bringing back emo to an earlier stage, namely the second wave. As such, many people associated with the revival where to some degree self-concious about the way "their" genre was misinterpreted as being about something else, namely third wave emo. Emo culture at the time was often mocked and the more commercial emo music wasn't looked upon favourably in underground circles. Fourth wave wasn't just a re-embrace of the values of the second wave but a rejection of the third wave.

I should also mention that this isn't nearly as true as it used to be now that enough time has passed for people to be nostalgic sooner than derisive, although it's an assumption that is very much woven into contemporary emo culture.

The history of emo as told from a fourth wave perspective would generally look on the third wave as an embarrassing parenthesis that we'd be better of forgetting. Some people have even gone as far as referring to the bulk of the third wave as "fake emo", being emo in name only while failing to embrace the core values of the genre sufficiently to be considered part of it.

So, this is where this book comes in. Being written in 2007, instead of viewing third wave emo as a heretical misstep, it's treated as the logical conclusion of the genre.

Emo as an identity

Another contrast with modern-day emo culture is it's treatment of emo as almost more of an identity than a music genre. This is also very typical of the time period. I'm born in the mid 90's, and my first exposure to the word emo (as I remember it) was when I was perhaps 10 or so and a friend told me about "a group of mentally ill people who dress in black and self harm". Not even a mention of the music! From then on my pre-pubescent self was mostly exposed to Emo as an identity. Sure, they had a special type of music that they listened to, but it wasn't any more integral to their emo-ness than their fashion for example.

Fast forward to today and I would never unironically call myself or anyone else "an emo", and I don't think almost anyone else would either. The understanding of emo that you find by modern fans is of something that might have cultural connotations, but is ultimately a style of music at heart.

While the authors where a lot more familiar with what emo in general than my 10 year old self and also saw music as a more central part of it, it is very informed by the view of Emo as a broader identity and only a small part of the book is actually about music.

My impression

The book starts of with a foreword by Andy Greenwald, author of Nothing feels good: Punk Rock, Teenagers, And Emo, a book that I'm hoping to eventually cover on this blog.

Then we get to the first chapter, titled ideology. For a second I (foolishly) thought that it would be a Žižek-style examination of pop-culture or something, and got very exited. Reading a few words below, we get a faux dictionary definition of the word:

ide•ol•o•gy n a body of ideas and social needs that separates you from your parents, the pep squad, and Dave Matthews Band fans.

Žižek was never this snarky.

After appropriately adjusting my expectations, snark is a constant background noise in the book. It's sometimes funny, sometimes making fun of a target that deserves it, sometimes an excuse to not treat a subject seriously and sometimes something that has aged quite poorly (ableist slurs stand out like a sore thumb, something it generally didn't in 2007).

The book is divided in 9 chapters, discussing everything from emo ideology, emo fashion, emo literature to emo eating habits and oh right, actual emo music. I generally found that the book was quite well researched (although it is an entertainment book, so it's not exactly done with any academic rigor) and that the authors where happy on going in to detail on most of the subjects they brought up. The facts and anecdotes that make up every chapter are accompanied by either helpful advice ("Don't put on a band shirt right after buying it from the merch table, you'll look like an emo novice") or snarky commentary ("Let's say that a guy and his crush watched One Tree Hill a week earlier with a group of seven of their friends. Never mind that there where nine people in the room. In emo terms, this was a date.")

One section of the book is about emo blogs. Just for fun, let's see how my emo blog measures up:

[From the section "how to emo-fy your blog" [...] you're going to want to look over your text and ask yourself a series of questions before hitting the "submit" button and releasing your deepest, most intimate thoughts into the world. Those questions are as follows:

Does this read well?

Am I making my points in a clear and efficient way?

Did I use actual paragraphs?

Did I capitalize all the words that need capitalisation?

Is this what my life is actually like?

Ok, 5. doesn't really apply but for the others it seems like I'm doing fine. So far, so good.

If you answered "yes" to any of these questions, you should probably scrap your post and start over. Ideally, a good emo blog post should be over dramatic and a bit abstruse. You know the magnets you see on fridges that people sometimes assemble into bizarre phrases? That's what emo posts are supposed to look like

Well, fuck.

Chapter 6: Music - a review

While it can be anywhere from amusing to interesting to read about everything from proper show etiquette to Emo porn sites (yes, seriously), this being a music blog first and foremost I'm gonna give some extra attention to their taste in music.

They have a section titled "Essential Emo Records 101". So what does it consist of and what do I think of it?

Rites of Spring, S/T

Embrace, S/T

Sunny Day Real Estate, Diary

Jawbreaker, Dear You

Lifetime, Hello Bastards

Texas is the Reason, Do You Know Who You Are?

Weezer, Pinkerton

The Promise Ring, Nothing Feels Good

The Get Up Kids, Something To Write Home About

Jimmy Eat World, Clarity

So far, so good. Lifetime is almost never talked about these days, but Hello Bastards is still a solid record. Mineral, American Football and Cap'n Jazz are all absent, although American Football and Cap'n Jazz weren't very popular until a long time after they split, so it's not that strange I suppose. They would be impossible to not include had the list been written today though. All the bands are accompanied by some text. For the first two albums they snarkily remark that they're not so much good as important historically. I believe that this comes from viewing the history of as stepping stones to what it was when this book was written and not with an attempt to see emo as it was at the time which I think is disappointing although not very surprising.

Saves the Day, Through Being Cool

Glassjaw, Everything You Ever Wanted

At the Drive-in, Relationship of Command

Bright Eyes, Fever and Mirrors

Thursday, Full Collapse

Dashboard Confessional, The Places You Have Come To Fear the Most

Taking Back Sunday, Tell All Your Friends

The Used, S/T

The All-American Rejects, S/T

Brand New, Deja Entendu

Coheed and Cambria, In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth: 3

Yellowcard, Ocean Avenue

Hawthorne Heights, The Silence in Black and White

My Chemical Romance, Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge

Fall Out Boy, From Under the Cork Tree

Panic! At the Disco, A Fever You Can't Sweat Out

There are a couple of albums that I personally don't really think qualify as emo even from a third wave point of view (although, maybe I'm just too poisoned by 4th wave elitism) namely Fevers and Mirrors, In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth: 3 and A Fever You Can't Sweat Out. I do still think that at least the first two at least are quite good so it's more of a matter of being overly loose with the genre. Although, maybe it's worth interpreting this list as more "music that emo people like" rather than "emo music" in line with the rest of the book. I did honestly think that it would be a bit worse in terms of including "non-emo" music so I'm honestly positively surprised. The authors do in my opinion manage to escape with a good amount of emo cred.

One thing that I'm disappointed in is the complete absence of screamo music, although this is once again more disappointing than surprising really.

Final verdict

One helpful question to ask when reviewing any piece of media is "who is this for?". My impression is that it's mostly for people who are already immersed in Emo culture who are interested in laughing at themselves. It is a very silly subculture in many ways (particularly in 2007) and the authors poke fun of this many times. If you can take it in stride, this book might be a pleasant read. You might also learn some things that you have missed.

For people such as me who are trying to puzzle together what emo culture actually was like at the time I find that the snark gets in the way of actually learning things, and I wish that they had taken a slightly more serious approach. The book could also have done with a lot more interviews.

Ultimately I think this leaves the book with a quite narrow audience in the present day, but that's fine maybe. At the time it came out it was actually commenting on something culturally relevant and might have served as a decent primer to the subculture.

Today however, I think that I can only really recommend it to the unhealthily obsessed (like me) and the nostalgic.

#emo

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mossible · 2 years ago

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ALRIGHT i’d like to preface that this is most likely gonna be really rambly (mostly due to excitement), but i promise that some questions will be sprinkled here and there as well, just bear with me LMAO ANYWAYS

with that out the way, i just finished reading all the chapters you’ve released of Cracked Snowglobes so far, and WOW you’ve done such an amazing job with it!! seriously, the way you’ve characterized everyone, especially octavio, just makes my heart sing. i feel like nintendo’s slept on developing octavio within splatoon’s story modes when there’s SO much available that they could work with, so reading your interpretation is such a fresh breath of air. what inspired you to write it from his perspective?

also, i love how splatoon’s silliness and flair is still present without interrupting the genuine and heartfelt scenes; the story naturally ebbs and flows (sorry not sorry :)) between the two wonderfully, it’s really a treat to read. speaking of the pacing, you’ve done the cuttletavio content SO WELL. i really appreciate the seeds you’ve planted throughout the story, because it creates a solid foundation for their relationship to grow from and, well, make their development believable! after all, the two of them have been through a LOT, so it makes sense that’d it take a while to work through it all.

before i finish, here’s some misc. questions for you! what have you learned about yourself while writing this fic? did of any scenes leave you stumped on how you were gonna approach it? what’s your greatest strength and weakness as a writer? and lastly, what’s your favorite scene you’ve written so far? feel free to answer as many or as few of those questions as you’d like!

thank you so much for the time and effort you’ve put into the fic so far!! it’s evident you’ve done your research, and i can’t wait to read what comes next! wherever the story goes, i’ll be there for the ride!! :))

OMG HI!! sorry this took like a day to get to but holy shit this is such a thorough and well thought out ask im like. in awe thank u so much for sending all of this in

if i thanked you for every incredibly kind thing u said throughout this entire ask i would fr be typing for like. hours so i will consolidate that all here; THANK U SO MUCH FOR UR KIND WORDS OMG !! i am so glad that youre enjoying the fic so far, and that you think so highly of it ?? i am absolutely blown away every time yall give me such encouraging feedback like this thank u so much!

ok on to the questions though!

what inspired you to write it from [octavio's] perspective? ok well funnily enough, you sort of answered your own question, (at least, the second half of what my reasoning is lol,) in the paragraph before you even asked it nintendo has ABSOLUTELY slept on octavio's more indepth nuances, i totally agree! i think to fully contextualize why i chose to write his perspective specifically, i do need to let myself be a little smug and say that i just so happened to revisit and reread Dissonant Melody in its entirety this summer, long before the b-sides were ever being posted. it. oh my god it fuckign awoke something in my brain and gave me cuttletavio brainrot BAD up until the new game was released and even then that absolutely did NOT help considering how our beloved dj got such an awesome spot in the limelight during the final boss. to summarize, though, i decided to stick with his pov partly because i felt i was not alone in my own personal sentiments over him and how silly and interesting of a guy he is, that others would also probably enjoy to see his pov, (as well as the octarian pov as a whole,) quite a lot. the other part is just that i had baaad brainrot and also that he is so silly and i wanted to write him interacting w cap'n more. bc, again, nintendo!!! youre sleeping on these two!!!! quit making us writers and artists do all the work for you tell us what they were like before the war!!!

ok i said i wouldnt repeat myself over and over again thanking you but!!! ahhh im so glad that the humorous beats i wrote landed. ive genuinely always been someone who cannot handle something serious without it being just a little silly and goofy on the side, just to make it feel. believable i guess? that the world isn't as dark as it sometimes seems? that and just. most people who know who i am as a person know where a lot of my influences lie and that a lot of it is in comedic source material, so there's that as well.

what have you learned about yourself while writing this fic? did of any scenes leave you stumped on how you were gonna approach it? i am going to lump these two questions together bc i think my answer will go hand in hand. i have been very much humbled to the fact that i am naught but a humble young adult who has yet to truly drop the young part and quote, unquote, "grow up" as they say. …by which i mean; my scope of the world is very very limited, and for as much research as i am able to do about a fictional, sci-fi-esque, futuristic society dominated by evolved mollusks, there is just as much real life experience that i feel would change the entire trajectory of this fic, were i to have it under my belt. perhaps some future plot points i have prewritten would theoretically play out much differently? perhaps some characters would be characterized differently, leading to said different plot points? perhaps, we will never know… perhaps, though, there are some experiences that i will never feasibly be able to live through to then incorporate into my writing. like living for over a century to reunite with my scorned, ex-whatever the hell these two are! specifically addressing the second question with that in mind, i can say, without spoilers, that there is indeed a scene that i'm working on right now funnily enough that is. stumping me quite a bit. i'll let your mind and the context i provided before to fill in the blanks on what could possibly be in store that i'm trying to figure out how to approach next.

what’s your greatest strength and weakness as a writer? and lastly, what’s your favorite scene you’ve written so far? i'll group these last two questions together as well because i have both a short and a long answer to at least part both of them; DIALOGUE!!!! i adore writing dialogue so much i love it when characters interact and say things and when i am able to study and practice their vocal quirks and nuances in such a way that it paints not just a picture of two plot devices talking to move the story along, but two very much matching or opposing sides to a discussion that has been thoroughly baked into the narrative. that and i like making nintendo characters say things that the NA localizers would never have the balls to make them say. not just in a swearing way but in an actually natural and not trying-and-failing-to-be-hip-with-the-kids type of way. (sorry NA team i still love yalls work but sometimes it doesnt seem like yall even read the JP text at all </3) to answer the second half of the question though, i do think that my weakness is feeling a bit too comfortable writing dialogue and the like. as someone who got got their start in writing from roleplaying online, whether as canon characters or ocs, i can say for certain that it is physically impossible for someone to perfectly mimic how a character acts in canon, down to a T. you can absolutely get close, don't get me wrong! but everyone's always going to view their fave or their muse in a different light than how someone else views them. humans are perfectly imperfect, and the things that we create and put out into the world are equally such. there are most definitely a lot of times where i will let my own preferences and biases for how a scene should play out cloud my judgement, and, as a result, i write myself into a future plot hole when it comes to consistent characterization. still love dialogue though <3 speaking of things i love! that last question… hmm… i think i had the most fun writing callie's final scene in chapter 3, but genuinely everything that involved the octarians in chapter 2 is a close close close second! esp stella's little scene. i talked about this a little bit in the comments on ao3, but, without spoilers i can absolutely promise yall that she is coming back. she has evolved from just a side character to my dear sweet little scrumply munchkin she is my scrimblo. sorry shes just really fun to think about and im excited to write her more </3

#cracked snowglobes

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kuragecharms · 7 years ago

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One(1) whole ramble about being INTJ

It’s weird to watch videos about INTJs from the perspectives of other types, in all honesty. Sometimes it feels as if there is a whole lot of very shallow stereotyping going on, other times it hits the nail right on the head and I’m laughing.

Of course, MBTI is not a personality quiz, it’s a thought type indicator. But there ARE some common shared experiences. So I guess it’s nice sometimes to realize that others have the same struggles as yourself. I’m gonna talk a bit about some common categories and labels placed on INTJs, and kind of...rant about my experiences with (or without) them. :>

The INTJ “death glare”

One thing that almost always gets thrown in on some sort of comment is the “infamous INTJ death stare.” I realized this about myself over a decade before I even heard the term MBTI breathed aloud, in all honesty it was a big stumbling block.

My natural instinct is direct eye contact. I don’t naturally show a lot of emotion on my face, etc. It’s a learned behavior because honestly, it’s more efficient to fit into some social status quos in order to be understood better, right? Saying it that directly can sound cold or calculating to some people, but it’s the truth, as far as I’m concerned. The whole “just be yourself!” thing works.... IF you are naturally charismatic or have a grasp on socialization tactics. Or if you are surrounded by people who can more naturally understand you. But for a rare type, for a highly introverted, independent, often over-opinionated blunt speaking female? The truth of the matter is, no matter who I’m dealing with, there’s some level of adjustment going on. I think that’s why i was drawn to languages from a young age. The prospect of conveying complex thought in another venue entirely was appealing to me. Being understood is a goal. I picked out patterns of speech from the internet, from books, from those around me, and would apply them (often quite consciously) in order to get my points across. In debate forums, I was often praised mostly for my ability to convey what others had been thinking, but in a clear to understand format. That was because it was my whole goal.

I remember being really young, like...less than ten? I think I was about 6-7 years old. When my parents would rebuke me for something I’d done, I would sometimes cry. That’s not a necessarily strong stereotype for INTJs, but it does happen. I felt things really deeply, and never knew how to grapple with them when a strong emotion interrupted my play, so that’s the best I can describe it as. Eventually, I got told to stop crying so much, so I would steel myself for such rebukes. Now, my natural instinct is to meet someone’s eyes. I know this, even though sometimes I doubt it because of the strength of my learned behavior. But I distinctly remember BOTH of my parents pausing in the middle of getting after me to say, “Why are you looking at me like that?!” and I would ask, “Like what?” They usually didn’t have a very good description of what the look was, but the gist of it was, I suppose, that it looked like I was judging them. I don’t know why this bothered them so much, because at the time I wasn’t usually striving to be petulant (although on occasion the look came about when I was thinking about the unfairness of my punishment). My mother (INFJ) was particularly bothered by it, especially because she was the more involved parent. Sometimes, it really seemed to throw her off, to the point that we got off the topic of the immediate punishment, and I was told to watch my attitude on things. Which, in retrospect, is fair. You don’t want an egotistical child. But I was confused because I didn’t see it that way. The world was always one to question, and my mother raised me with that philosophy, but there was a limit to it that I hadn’t felt out quite yet.

I did understand, though, that my expression was discomfiting to some. It happened with more frequency, often with my siblings. My younger INFP sibling would sometimes cry when I would look at her with any strength of feeling, and say that I was glaring or judging. Very rarely was this intentional, I promise.

When I reached high school, I would sometimes examine my own expression in the mirror or in photos. I don’t think mine is a very harsh face in general, so the accusations were confusing. But I decided I needed to adjust. It was easier, not only to avoid the ‘glare’ of judgement, but also to control my own emotions, if I didn’t make too much eye contact. I started to deliberately look away from people’s faces after a few seconds, because I wanted them to know I was listening, but also that I wasn’t focusing in too harshly in order to judge them personally. It seems to work, so it’s something I’ve kept with.

But lately, I’ve been wanting to focus on being truer to myself, and get back to the roots of my own natural self, and re-establish myself with the added information I’ve learned over the years. I want to make eye contact, even if it seems intense. My natural instinct is part of who I am. If I’m truly engaged by a topic, my learned behaviors weaken, and I realize I make much eye contact. I lean in and I pay 100% attention to the conversation at hand. The majority of the time, I don’t make eye contact at all, both because of my investment in the topic but also my gauging of how much eye contact I can make with the other party without infringing on their comfort level. I want to care about this less. I’m well aware I can be too intense of a personality for some, so I can withhold or gauge myself in most instances. But with this, I think I should be allowed a little more natural habit.

The Know-It-All/”Too Smart”

In uni, I wasn’t AFRAID to answer questions, but I rarely did after the first semester. I was just being myself and came across as a know-it-all or pompous, because I was nervous and focused on the class material, which some people weren’t (admittedly, it was gen eds, so it isn’t a commonly attractive set of courses anyways). I started setting goals before each class, like, “You should only answer three questions at most for this class.” and such like that. It wasn’t really to make others like me, as I already had established that reputation and I didn’t make moves to change it. But it was because I had to adjust, to improve, to better blend in.

When I DID answer questions, half the time it was to help other classmates. I’d look around and realize others weren’t getting what the professor was saying, so I’d raise my hand and state something like, “When you say X...do you mean that Y?” and I would elaborate Y as a more relatable, easier to digest phrasing or simile. The professor would often be a bit confused, but I’ve literally heard classmates around me go, “Ohhhhhh” with realization. Things went a bit smoother after that. I was seen as studious, but less pompous.

I’ve never thought of intelligence or logic being partial to female or male, or emotions being preferred by female or male, until I interacted and socialized more. Naturally, my instinct is to not distinguish. I grew up homeschooled, in a family where the boys and girls boy cooked and cleaned and cried, and we were ALL avid readers. My natural tendency to debate was often rebutted by my older brother, and I saw us on equal ground.

In middle school, I saw the huge difference in the way my father treated my brother and I (we’re both INTJs) and how hard this was on him. He was told not to have emotions, and for an INTJ? We already struggle enough with this. Being told not to cry at much, after all, instigated a huge self-study in my own expression and aura.

Looking back, I was pretty naive about it. I wanted to prove myself as strong as my father and brother. I did this physically (my relatives know me to be the girl who pushes in to help move furniture. It’s caused some pretty sexist debates, in all honesty) emotionally and psychologically. I wanted to prove that there was no difference between my brother and I, and I tried very, very hard.

I’ve since come to terms with the fact that the difference in treatment had more to do with my father’s underlying sexism and not much to do with my own competency, or my brother’s. I’ve accepted my own strengths and still see us as equals, and I have nothing to prove to anyone else in regards to that. Rather than proving anyone wrong about me, I do it because it’s efficient and positive to take care of things on my own and for the sake of my own independence.

I’ve been told, however, that I’m “too smart” for a girl. I’ve been literally told that I’ll scare men off with my words. I’m normally quiet, in person. But when broaching a topic of some knowledge or interest, I will instantly just explode with thoughts or theories, discussion and debates. I’ve exchanged 2-3 messages with a person before going off on a multi-paragraph rant (via text) about MBTI and its common misconceptions.I’m just like that. I don’t see it as showing off my intelligence but an opportunity to engage with others in a mutually educational environment.

Again, I see myself as not having anything to prove. I’m no astrophysicist. I suck at math. I’m good at English. I like talking about things I’m interested in, but I know when I’m not an expert or have insufficient knowledge. But it can be very disheartening to know that just being my natural self and actually being engaged without holding back constantly is seen as an attack on someone else’s ego, or that I’m scaring people off. I want to engage with ideas and such. If everyone is intimidated by me, with my speech and my eye contact, then those opportunities are lost.

I know what I know, so I feel confident. But I also know how much I do NOT know, so I feel humbled and eager to learn. I don’t see that as a character flaw, although many would paint it as cockiness.

INTJ’s organization/strictness

It’s another common trope. I’ll see people talk about INTJs being rigid about things, unable to admit that they’re wrong, distant or set in their ways, liking the routine. I find some of this true, but not most. Because this is getting a bit far into the personality side of things, rather than a thought type, the way that most people apply it.

Do I like things organized? Yes. Am I organized? Sometimes, just like anybody. Do I like to know what’s expected of me? Hell yes. Am I unable to adapt (for example, if I’m talking with someone more emotional )? That’s just limiting. As I said, socially speaking, I HAVE to adapt. I’m well aware of being the minority. Most people don’t wanna say, “Hello, let’s analyze film cinematography for fun” they wanna get to know each other on topics that I, frankly speaking, find dull. I have to fight to pay attention to half the conversations I have, I have to nod and make noises to acknowledge that I’m listening CONSTANTLY. That’s how it is. I can adapt. I’m not always as flexible as I’d like, and to err is human. But INTJs are box-people, I assure you.

But man, do I fucking love spreadsheets. I love using succinct methods to help introduce others to MBTI, for instance. I have condensed explanations of the letters and typing help and such, all prepared. I have lists of people I’ve typed and it’s color-coded. It goes along with that efficiency of explaining to others my viewpoints. :> If I’m easy to understand through my words, I feel I’ve succeeded in a task.

I think the part where I get the most rigid and immovable, is when it comes to planning social time. I’m very withdrawn and I’ve discovered over the years that, even when I’ve learned to adjust, my ability to socialize is still very limited and EXTREMELY draining. Given that INTJs are, on the gradient scale, among the very utmost independent and introverted, this isn’t so surprising. I have to gear up for social interactions, and often this takes hours of mental prep. I spend most of my time on a computer, writing down my own thoughts or organizing things, rather than interacting. I keep my cell phone IN MY HAND during new situations and social events, almost the entire time. I’ve learned that if I can pull away and, say, check my messages or Twitter, it pulls my head out of the socializing (even if just for a few moments) and let me reassess and recharge a bit. Am I actually tired, or just need a bathroom break? Am I done for the night, or is my leaving a bit too premature? Constant interaction with anyone outside my immediate family is draining, even if I’m enjoying myself and having a good time. (With my family, I’m more blunt, easy going, and very positive, I think. I tend to be physically clingy and talk a LOT more freely) So I have to gauge myself, and I can feel myself getting overdrawn sometimes.

Even just running into someone by accident at the store can jolt my energy levels. I’ve been known to duck around corners if I see someone I know (even if I like them, generally speaking) because I wasn’t ready for an interaction, mentally.

Now, when I know what’s expected and how much socializing I need, I’m fine, and very dedicated. I had a monthly social meet up with my friends in Japan, and I liked that. I LOVED it, actually. I knew about how long I’d be out, when I was expected to show up, and once a month filled my social meter pretty well. It was with a close-knit group I could be fairly comfortable with, and my warmer sides had a chance to shine.

At work now, I’m garnering a reputation for being independent. I do my tasks early in the evening, usually, and then I’m fine being at my desk for 4-6 hours even if I don’t see or hear from a living soul. One coworker informed the shift manager that he didn’t even need to check up on me or anything, that I was perfectly fine on my own. It was stated like it was something worth note, although I saw it as natural. lol It was a bit amusing.

The organizing thing is kinda true, though. I recently decided to respond to a YouTube comment (a very, very rare experience) and I actually bullet-pointed my reasons why the original commenter was mistaken, in order to make myself more succinct. lol When I replied I had to laugh at my own actions.

Other/misc.

Among strangers, I rarely speak my own opinions or thoughts at any length. I can work in a place for a year and not reveal anything more than what is asked of me. This can cause problems. I often have a lot to share with others, whether it’s creatively or in theories or advice. I have many thoughts, but... my “efficiency” stamp and also my increasing self-awareness of others’ perceptions of me, holds a lot of this back. It’s not like I particularly blame anyone for this, it’s really my own decision.

But to me, I’d decided that if someone ASKS me about something, then they care enough to know the answer. If I mentioned my work once, and someone asks about it, I’ll answer them. If they want to know my thoughts or feelings on something, I don’t hesitate to start formulating a reply. I have a thought on MOST things. BUT, if I’m not asked? I assume it isn’t on their mind as vital enough to get an answer on. I wouldn’t want to bother elaborating a whole goddamn essay when they weren’t interested, right? That’s when I get the “Wow. lol You wrote a lot.” and no thoughtful response, which is disheartening when I want to exchange ideas and got excited or invested.

So if they don’t ask, it’s not that I exactly hold onto it or get bitter. But I take that as data for gauging future conversations. If a friend of mine isn’t interested in a fact about me, I don’t offer similar data in the future.

For example, I don’t really do much to celebrate my birthday anymore. i explained to my mother that being the center of attention and getting a lot of OBLIGATORY wishes of good will is not how I feel special or loved. I’d rather get to sleep in, eat what I like, I’d rather spend quality time with people, or relax. Usually this means not going out or anything.

Now, if someone wishes me happy birthday? That’s fine. I don’t get a whole lot out of it, but... it’s still kinda nice? But I hate when people do it purely out of obligation. So my resolution to this was to remove my birthday from Facebook. The only people who wish me happy bday are those who already know me and that date, not because FB reminded them of an obligation.

I have no problem telling people I’m a Capricorn or such, or a winter baby. But I usually don’t give the exact date of my bday because I don’t want others to feel pressured to remember it or care too much about it, or feel guilty if they missed it. If they ask when my birthday is? I’ll tell them. If the day comes, I don’t hide it. But I think that those who would genuinely care about wishing my happy birthday come along, that they’ll ask,and then I can offer that info. This kind of logic goes across the board, really.

To some people, this is seen as manipulative. I’ve been accused of ‘testing’ my friendships and their sincerity with this, or being passive aggressive. It’s not really my intent, but because of the accusation, I try to re-evaluate such behaviors and try to ensure that these truly ARE my reasonings, and not because I’m secretly seeking attention or validation.

It’s hard to be understood as an INTJ, I suppose. There’s a lot more than goes into this. I know MBTI isn’t a 100% thing (all psychology is a soft science, anyhow) but I like to use MBTI as a sort of helper, or key, in understanding commonly misunderstood behaviors in me. I know it’s helped me navigate social interactions a lot, and I’ve grown as a person because of it.

One common problem I’ve had is...well... basically anything in the realms of emotion. That fucking Fi tertiary function, goddamn it. lol

It’s hard to explain, but the easiest way I’ve found is to tell people that sometimes my emotions “are on a delay.” For example, I’ll go to an event with my friends - like a concert - and I don’t have much exterior emotions about it. My ESFP friend is literally jumping up and down and screaming, while I feel like all my enjoyment is trapped inside my body, and my body won’t move and dance too freely. I’d rather stand very still and enjoy the music, even if I’m having just as good a time. I’m too busy internalizing things to ‘let go’ as the ESFP would. lol

As another example, when I first went to a haunted house, I did enjoy my time there. But emotionally? I wasn’t sure until like two or three days later, when I was thinking back on it. I didn’t know if I’d go again, or if I had fun, or if I liked it. I knew the experience, as I’d lived it, but my FEELINGS on the matter didn’t get processed for a few days. This seems odd, I know. But it makes big emotional events that I get up to very hard to process. Going to Japan, I didn’t properly “feel” excited to be going until like a week after I got there. lol

One sign that I’ve really enjoyed myself or am emotionally worked up, is that bc I don’t externalize it, I get a headache. After the haunted house, because I hadn’t screamed or let out any outward stress or emotions, everything was bottled in during processing, and I got a really intense headache from it. Recently, I met an online friend of mine in person for the first time, and I could tell I was excited, mostly because my head started hurting once I picked her up.

It’s hard to really explain what that sort of experience is like, but it’s the best I’ve come up with so far. My brain is still processing how I feel about things. This gets confusing when you’re having an argument with a friend. If I feel MORE emotional about a topic, I tend to withdraw and speak more bluntly, and more objectively. This irritates the fuck out of a lot of people, who think I’m shutting down on them. What’s really going on is that, I feel emotionally compromised, and I want to make the argument PRODUCTIVE and EFFICIENT. So I look for a solution to the issue, and doing so requires focusing on the facts, with the way my mind works. “Okay, so you feel the chores aren’t fair. What would you designate as a fair amount? Then who will take care of this?” It sounds accusatory, so I have to phrase things in questions, instead of demands, because I’m trying to find a solution, not attack. I don’t mind conflict, if it’s productive towards improving a situation.

When I do get emotional? It’s a fucking mess. But even then, I often shut down the emotional side of things and bury it until I’ve processed it and can examine it later. This delay often means people are disappointed by my lack of reaction to certain things, or feel like I don’t care as much as I do. Which usually isn’t the case.

This also means that a lot of relationships, I’m focusing more on the benefits or chemistry of, and I guess that makes people put INTJs on a pedestal? I could elaborate on that and how it’s affected a lot of my relationships, resulting many times in friendships where the other person gets very dependent on me for affirmation or help, and feels closer to me than I feel to them. But... I guess that’s for another day. lol

Essentially, I guess, some stereotypes have their basis in the truth. But I feel like life as an INTJ is a lot more nuanced, especially those that genuinely seek to improve themselves through the understanding being INTJ in a world where we’re rare, rather than just inflating our egos immaturely with the TITLE of “the scientist.”

#mbti #intj #kuragewrites

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thelillykane · 7 years ago

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for the salty ask meme #6 #1 #4 #5 and #12 Just pour all the salt, jennie!

oh my god i just refound this in my ask box so sit tight i’m gonna try & answer real quick~~~

1. What OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get? + 4. Do you have a NoTP in your fandom? Are they a popular OTP?

as always, the answer is l*cas and p*yton like!!! it doesn’t make sense to me AT ALL how people ship this couple and consider them to be like soulmates when l*cas spends half of season one, all of seasons 2 & 3, half of season four, and the majority of season five being blatantly and vocally in love with other women* (mostly brooke but then in season five he’s literally engaged to and planning to marry lindsay and um friendly reminder kids that he’s not the one that calls off the wedding!!! he’s not at the altar going “yeah i love p*yton” he’s literally…devastated when lindsay leaves him and he even tries to win her back but like sure ok i guess he loves p*yton)

also, like…p*yton literally only wants to date him the second he becomes unavailable which isn’t even me being mean it’s just the goddamn truth!! he wants to date her in s1, she isn’t interested, and then he starts to move on (and she finds out brooke has a crush on him let’s sip that fucking tea together) and she decides she wants him!!!. and then she does the same thing in season five when he asks her to marry her and she says no so he?? moves on like anyone who got rejected would do and THAT’S WHEN SHE FLIPS HER SHIT and is like “oh well when you were eighteen-twenty you wrote a book where you promised to love me forever so you can’t get engaged to someone else even though yeah i started dating julian like a week after i said no to you”

and tHEN when they weren’t pissing me off on screen by treating everyone (brooke) like trash they were boring!!! like how tf

ALSO LISTEN the fact that not only does the show do a 180 and be like “oh lol l*cas always loved her even when he literally was repulsed by the mention of still having feelings for her” BUT THEY ALWAYS TRY TO PRETEND LIKE EVERYONE ELSE IN TREE HILL WAS WAITING FOR THEM TO BE TOGETHER AND NO ONE WAS haley – l*cas’ best friend!!!! – is vocally against them being together on like 3 fucking occasions minimum, nathan is 100189001 team brooke penelope davis, karen & keith – lucas’ PARENTS – actually take the time to get to know brooke and end up rooting for her and her happiness both individually and w/ their son and they never bother to do that w/ p*yton, skills literally calls l*cas out on his behavior and calls p*yton out on hers (re: them being shitty af) but then two eps later is all ~lol i was a fan~ when he clearly wasn’t, i could fucking go on but you see my point like…no one wanted them to be together including them

the way they treat brooke formerly gets its own bullet point because oh my god even thinking about it makes my blood boil like 98% of the time i’m fucking i’m pissed

also re: them being ~soulmates~ and they ~were meant to be together from ep 1**~ hilarie burton, who plays p*yton, literally came out in an interview this year and said that they never intended, to her knowledge, as the actress PLAYING P*YTON!!, for l*yton to end up together but that the show switched gears around season four iirc (because sophia bush wasn’t super comfortable filming endless romantic shit with her ex husband who had cheated on her which i support fully)

ALSO i could be wrong but like….i’m pretty sure l*cas kisses brooke in every season he’s a main in (the s6 is a fakeout flash forward in which he lowkey envisions himself marrying brooke and lemme tell you that sure doesn’t seem like he’s super committed to p*yton) and you can’t say the same for him and p*yton (again i might be wrong but i don’t think they kiss in season 2) and they only kiss in season 3 because peyton thinks she’s gonna die and he’s sitting right there

^ the above is arguably the pettiest bullet point on here but i don’t give a FUCK i hate this fictional couple with every atom i possess

FUCK !!!! LISTEN that stupid “you’re always saving me thing” that p*yton says to him and it’s supposed to be romantic like lol he literally didn’t even go into the school for her that day!!! like sure once he’s in there he ends up saving her but that isn’t even what he wanted to do!!! he goes into the school to try and get nathan and to make sure nathan doesn’t get hurt!! when brooke is sobbing telling him she lost track of p*yton when she was getting out of the building l*cas doesn’t get all White Knight and go in to save her he literally was gonna stay with brooke!!! who he loves!!! (there’s an instance similar to this in season one where he only ~saves~ her because he is like…around when brooke is trying to get help for p*yton and probably others too but that’s the BIG one)

ALSO OH MY GOD in season 3 when they make p*yton realize she loves l*ke again they do it in the dumbest way??? she’s literally…with j*ke and she is asleep and mumbles l*kes name and then j*ke is like “u said his name in ur sleep u don’t want to be with me” and dumps her while she’s crying and saying she flat out doesn’t love l*cas (but then she has no one else so she’s like lol what the heck i guess i will love him romantically)

and btw that^ is another instance where it wasn’t p*yton choosing to be with l*cas it was literally someone deciding NOT to be with her…which come to think of it is how they always get together? like?? they never choose to be with one another except in season one after they fucking cheat on brooke like dirtbags and then l*ke dumps brooke to be with p*yton but after that they literally..only pick each other as last resorts because they have no one else. like lmao!!! that is not my idea of grand romance otp it’s literally…sad in the pathetic, embarrassing way

*idr season six that well but i am willing to bet he does it a little bit during this season as well (also from what i remember they literally…stopped writing scenes w/ him and brooke one on one together because they knew the audience would take one look at those scenes and KNOW he still loved her and not p*yton)

also um brooke/lucas parallel nathan/haley so much so it’s just so fake whenever people try and say they weren’t the intended endgame for a while there like…look at the parallels. open your eyes.

anyway y’all i could probably keep going i am the most bitter and angry about them always and there’s literally 200+ things that are just ??? about them it’s Too Easy

oh also fandom jumo but uh piper/l*o from charmed are boring as shit they’re okay in s1-2 and after that i was like hey can we get him off my screen thanks

5. Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?

I don’t think “ruined” is the right term, but there are definitely some ships that I saw overhyped imo and then when I watched the show I was…underwhelmed. (I’m referring specifically to Ch*ck/S*rah when I type this because the never ending will they-won’t they was just fucking exhausting and by season 3 – which is where i am currently on hiatus – when they actually got together i just could not bring myself to care) (also she can do better and deserves better and season 3 chuck is like the worst version of him so far but)

6. Has fandom ever made you enjoy a pairing you previously hated?

not to my knowledge!

12. Is there an unpopular arc that you like that the fandom doesn’t? Why?

i was just talking about this the other day with amanda!! (i would normally tag her but she loves l*yton and i respect that so i’m not gonna make her see the seven paragraphs in which i Destroy them)

essentially we talked about how everyone needs to back up off of season three of veronica mars. like, sure, compared to seasons one and two it’s not as good, but even those seasons have stuff i don’t like such as: gross rape plots, needless and unwelcome attempts at love triangles, sidelining of POC characters for ?? reasons (it’s racism y’all, that’s the reason), sidelining of female characters for White Male Development (re: Mac not becoming a regular that season while Dick & Cassidy both did), etc. and all of those reasons are the big reasons why people shit on season three but [dennis reynolds voice] newsflash asshole! it was there the entire goddamn time

^to continue the above, i think season three has SO MANY POSITIVES AS WELL for example: logan canonically tells veronica mars that he loves her. um. that’s Good Shit. also!!!: parker lee is there, weevil working w/ keith mars for a bit, logan and veronica making out on the stairs to fidelity by regina spektor, holy fuck does veronica mars love logan echolls so much, THAT SCENE WHEN LOGAN APOLOGIZES TO VERONICA AGAIN!!, BEATS UP GORY SORKIN BECAUSE HE’S RUDE AF TO VERONICA, SHRUGS WHEN GORY THREATENS HIS LIFE, IMMEDIATELY GOES AND APOLOGIZES TO PIZ, AND THEN VERONICA WATCHES HIM WALK AWAY BEAMING WITH HEARTS IN HER EYES LIKE THAT SCENE IS IN SEASON THREE YOU GUYS IT’S RIGHT THERE and then like!!! there’s quality eps in there that i love with my whole heart~~ wichita linebacker!!! poughkeepsie tramps and thieves!!! postgame mortem!!! charlie don’t surf!!!

in summary: like…yeah parts of it were geuninely awful. just..like….the rest of the seasons. and the movie. which is like.. another Thing

also fandom jump again but uh Rory’s decision to leave Yale in season six was absolutely the right one for her to make and Lorelai is the fucking worst about it. and if Lorelai hadn’t overreacted and ostracized Rory over it Rory would’ve gone back to Yale and lot sooner and that’s what you missed on Glee

#cariebishop #jennie interacts with people #anti leyton #buffys #victoria pls come drag l*yton w me #don't look amanda

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emberfaye · 7 years ago

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Regarding Mircea

There’s a lot of talk about him lately. I’m posting under a read more simply because this discussion will be jumping back and forth between books, including Ride the Storm.

So first off. Cassie is very much an untrustworthy narrator, we are in her head and see and hear things the way she perceives them.

Growing up, she made herself as invisible as possible. Most vamps ignored her, or found amusement in her fears and “meekness”. Eugenie and Rafe were the two who stood out as being kindest and most important to her. She also spent plenty of time with Alphonse, but probably not alone and while he may have been kindly towards her, she feared him in a way she didn’t fear the other two.

Eugenie was older and very crotchety while Rafe was like a father, Cassie says. And these were the ones she spent her time around.

Until Mircea came to court at age, what, 11? And he was kind, but she didn’t have paternal feelings towards him. It has been established in the Dory books (When he meets Aiden and stinky), that Mircea is good with kids, and they adore him and he adores them right back. So the fact that he spent time with her isn’t unusual. Even if he added a bit more of his charm on than usual (in a non sexual way, simply by giving her more attention and time than most would. I compare it to the way an abused kid might get more consideration from a teacher or family member), this is still not necessarily creepy. He may never have intended for her to get a crush on him, or for that crush to be as strong as it was. I didn’t find anything he did inappropriate from a pragmatic point of view (which is the way the vampires have been framed). Should he have tried to get her out of the abuse of Tony’s court? In a normal every day society yes, but as far as how the book magical societies have been portrayed? He did the best he could.

I do find it slightly creepy that all the vamps, Mircea included, sat around discussing who Cassie might most be interested in despite knowing her as an adult for exactly 0 seconds. However, as I have stated before, I view TtD as more of a pilot episode that doesn’t have all characterization and relationships down yet, more the idea of what they will be, and exaggerated to ensure that the series is picked up for the promise portrayed.

That said, even at this point Mircea is viewed through the eyes of Cassie, who had a childhood crush on him. And therefore she has an almost infallible view of him which leaks through her narration of him. And we didn’t get to see much of Mircea from the interrupted sexy times of TtD until we meet him again in England in the past, and the whole geis issue gets complicated.

So then her childhood crush is basically turned up to 11, and he is confused and attracted, and we don’t get to see a naturally developing relationship because they flew right by it. And all the conversations and getting to know yous are skipped, which can and has happened in both real life and fictional portrayals of relationships, but which has to be addressed.

However, with the war amping up, and both people having lots of issues to deal with, they didn’t get to talk about everything that meant. And honestly, at this point I still didn’t find Mircea creepy or manipulative.

And then came book 3. Where Mircea began to keep Cassie away from the circle, where he dragged her to nowhere and left her handcuffed on a plane, where he treated her like a queen in front of his family members and yet still didn’t tell her basic things, and actively tried to shush her instead of empowering her in her new position.

And honestly, at this point I began to wonder, because Mircea was literally being called manipulative and sexy by Cassie, who was also wondering why he was with her when she had nothing to offer. Karen Chance wasn’t delving into his feelings, other than to have him sometimes lose control around Cassie, to tap into something primitive and wild and fierce during some emotional paragraphs.

And then came Hunt the Moon, which was the first book I could see myself understanding the appeal of the ship, and the closest Mircea got to being the character we see in the Dory novels. He listens to Cassie, and gives her the help she asks for instead of thinking for her, he is fun and sassy and there for her.

Until he’s not. Until he assisted the Senate and the Circle to not allow Cassie to her own inauguration, not only diminishing all of the things he has told her regarding strength and listening to her, but also actively putting her in danger by providing her with no safe place to go. He shut her down in a (to me) cruel way.

And then they avoid each other, except for a few sexy times and a fight about the action to take for the war. Granted, I mostly agree with Cassie during the fight, Mircea was not thinking clearly and about long term consequences and was pressuring her into saying yes to him, but Cassie also made an ultimatum at the wrong time and Mircea leaped into it, and it got worse. But that’s what happens when people are emotional when fighting...it escalates.

And then in Ride the Storm, we have a moment in the beginning where Mircea saves her, and then later it seems like they are addressing their issues and going to come to a good place, but he gets called away. Then Dory attacks, and Mircea restrains her. You can see that Mircea yells out for the Consul to not title Dory, and you can argue his intentions til the cows come home, but the fact of the matter is, if there has been time for Cassie to notice that Mircea has a foot fetish, then there has been time for Mircea to clear up his family matter if he was going to.

And then the fight, and the flashbacks happened. And honestly? I am so here for this storyline. It’s gonna be painful, it’s gonna be dramatic, and it’s gonna be interesting.

Okay. So. If you’re still with me, I apologize for the length lol. All of that was from the storyline so far. My personal interpretation, is that Mircea does feel something for Cassie. For someone who feels as much as Mircea does, I can’t believe that he is ONLY manipulating her. Do I think it started off benign? Oh hell yes. Do I think that he continued manipulating her occasionally throughout the books? Also hell yes.

I don’t hate Mircea, by the way. I love him in the Dory books, and I hope that the next book brings him more to life and showcases a different side of him. I hope that he and Cassie can get some closure.

That said, I do believe that he has no idea that Cassie feels used and unloved right now from him. Whether it was intentional or not, I feel like Cassie thinks he never loved her, even though earlier in books she had a feeling he did. But between the adrenaline of getting attacked, to the shock at hearing that he had a daughter, and then the fight with him combined with the visions at the same time, how can she not feel used and cheapened?

I don’t hate Mircea. However, if someone read the books and had experiences with someone like him and grew to hate him, I could understand. I’ll poke fun of any of the characters, tbh, and Mircea is relatively easy because Cassie has described him as perfect, when we know very much he’s not.

Anywho. Thanks for reading. =P

#mircea basarab #chanceverse #long post #rts spoilers

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salted-barbed-wire · 8 years ago

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Lessons to be Learned 3

I’M BACK BITCHES!!!!!! For good this time. In celebration, here’s the chapter I was working on right before I had to shut down the ol’ laptop for what has it been now, two weeks? I’ve missed you all, hope you enjoy this even though it’s fucking long as hell!

Chapter One Chapter Two Master List

Summary: A week after the little encounter with Mr. Ambrose and Prinicpal AJ, the reader is frustrated with the secret. It seems that her teachers can forget about the whole thing easier than she could. Or at least she thinks… Word count:4252 (I told you, long as hell) Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT

TAG LIST(It’s been a while since I’ve been here so this might not be accurate. Remind me if you want to be tagged and I’ve forgotten. Or if you want to be added I’ll do it next round of junk)

@i-kneel-for-king-loki @straight-outta-the-asylum @ridingmoxley @paradoxical-opheliac @ambrosegirlforever @wrestlingnoob @m-a-t-91 @livingthestrongstyle @lip-sync @princess3733 @nickysmum1909 @ambrose-asylum-ft-mitch @shieldlovereve @jubaleelovehate @xstylesxclashx @the-geekgoddes @geekoftv @stardustmoonlightflower @lovelikelove @ashleyvc88 @cesaros-smile @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @alexispoo @llowkeys @artgurl559-blog

“So, you’re awfully quiet today.” Alexa said as she sipped on some apple juice.

I tore my gaze away from the bread of the turkey sandwich I had slowly been picking a part and looked at my best friend. Her blue eyes examining me as she chewed on her cob sandwich. I was suddenly aware of all the noise that surrounded us in the cafeteria.

“Just a lot on my mind.” I offered a half smile.

“Anything you want to talk about?”

My mind flashed through my detention session with Mr. Ambrose and Principal Styles a week ago. Dean’s body on top of mine. AJ’s eyes all on me. I felt a flush trying to break through my cheeks and my panties begin to feel wet, but I forced the thoughts out of my head.

“I’m fine, Alexa. It’s just been a rough week.” I insisted.

The concern in her eyes remained, “True. First, Mr. Ambrose knocks you to the back of the classroom. Then Principal AJ harping at you for anything you do at your locker.” Alexa rolled her eyes, “Apparently, we aren’t allowed to even have a discussion in the hallway.”

This was all true. Monday, when I returned from a weekend off from my little incident with my teachers, everything had changed. All my classmates walked into our second hour class with Mr. Ambrose only come to find that he’s rearranging our seating chart. My heart sank when he moved me to the back, right corner of the classroom. Any time I rose my hand to answer one of his questions, he’d pretend I wasn’t there. My prose I wrote over the weekend even got a ‘C’. A ‘C’! I had never gotten a ‘C’ in Mr. Ambrose’s class. Ever.

Then to top it off, Principal Styles barked at Alexa and I to “keep moving” or to “stop being disruptive during school hours” every time I was at my locker. Of course, my locker was right across the hall from his office so it was difficult to avoid him. I had planned on asking Alexa if I could just share a locker with her at the other end of the hallway, away from Mr. Styles. It was all I could do driving home every night not to tear up.

“It’ll get better.” I half said to myself, “Prom is in a few weeks, then we just have two more weeks before we graduate.”

Alexa held out her water bottle in a toast gesture, “Cheers to that.” She giggled. “Speaking of which, have you found a date to prom?”

I sighed, Here we go again, I thought. “No, Alexa, I have not. I really doubt I’m going to at this last minute.”

She huffed, “Well at least tell me you’ve picked out a dress.”

I sipped on my own water, “Why would I need a dress if I’m not going?”

“NOT GOING!” She said all too loud. “(Y/N)! You are too going! It’s your senior prom!”

“Alexa!” I hissed, trying to get her to calm down. “Shut up. I didn’t go last year, why do I need to go this year?”

“Because it’s your SENIOR PROM!” Her voice became louder still.

“Shhhh..” I hushed her. Gazes were starting to look at us, teachers and students alike. “If we get in trouble so help me God…”

“I hope we do!” She kept her voice loud. “Promise you’ll come dress shopping with me tomorrow or I’ll keep yelling!”

I rolled my eyes. “You are such a child sometimes.”

She cleared her throat, “I’M SORRY! I CAN’T HEAR YOU!”

“FINE!” I yelled back, “I’ll go look at dresses. Jeez.”

“Yay!” She squealed. “I’m so excited.”

I glared at my best friend, “That makes one of us.

—–

Alexa left school after lunch to go to a dentist appointment, leaving me walking through crowded halls. The final bell had just rung, dismissing all of us for the day but most student hung around to make plans for the weekend or to head to after school practices. With prom just weeks away, it seemed to be the main topic on everyone’s lips.

I sighed, Prom is just not my thing. I don’t want to really go with anyone. Alexa has Murphy, I shot a glance towards a group of boys that were being pushy with each other. Buddy Murphy smiled at me and gave me a nod. I returned and kept walking towards my locker. Even if there was someone who wanted to ask me, I don’t know if I would want to go with anyone except for Dean or AJ. My heart clenched as I walked passed Mr. Ambrose’s closed door. Not that they could or would ever want anything to do with me again. A few more steps and I reached my locker. 03-26-20. I put in the code. Dean doesn’t even acknowledge my presence and AJ…

“Miss. (Y/L/N)!” I heard a low southern drawl pronounce my last name from behind me.

I turned to see Principal Styles standing behind me arms folded over his chest. His blue eyes were clouded over with anger. I wasn’t sure whether I was excited or scared to see him standing there like that. On one hand I was in trouble for something on the other, I had this sexy, dark haired man glaring me down like he could give me some punishment that I might enjoy.

“Yes, Mr. Styles?” I asked, trying not to let me fear or my excitement be known.

“Do you know what time it is?” He asked, walking over to me.

I glanced around the hallway, most of my classmates were gone; off to enjoy their weekend. I then shifted to the watch on my wrist, “It’s 4:15.”

Principal Styles nodded, “That’s right. What are you still doing wandering around my hallways?”

“Getting my books, sir.” I said trying to keep my voice steady.

He huffed, “You better hurry up, no loitering after school hours.” AJ then turned on his heels back into his office.

My head spun a little with the anger that was boiling inside of me. Five days, I could feel it bubbling, I’ve been putting up with nothing but attitude from these two. They cornered me into doing something I’ve fantasized about, that obviously they have as well, but now they’re punishing me for it? There was a low, involuntary growl in the back of my throat. NO MORE!

“Excuse me, sir?” I said firmly to AJ. He stopped and half turned to face me. I let my eyes wander his body. He was wearing navy blue dress pants, brown dress shoes, a tie, and a long sleeve white button down that had the sleeves rolled up. His arms and chest were barely contained by the material, something I never noticed before because he always wore a sports coat or a suit jacket. “Where exactly in my school handbook does it state that students are not allowed to loiter after school?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “Would you like me to give you and exact page and paragraph number?” He started to turn again.

He’s not going to treat me like this anymore, not unless I want him to. “Actually, I do.” I hesitated, a half grin planted on my lips, knowing that if I said this one last thing, it would send him over. AJ turned to look me up and down, as if to see if I was seriously giving him that attitude he heard. “Or do you not know your own rules, Daddy?”

AJ stopped, so did my heart. His blue eyes searched the hallway, probably seeing if any students or staff had seen or heard anything. “My office. NOW!” He shouted at me, causing me to jump. I scooted past him into his office, trying to hide my smile.

I had been in AJ’s office before, never in trouble, usually when he needed one of the other students to be put into the tutoring program I oversaw. I hadn’t ever really looked around his office until this exact moment. The desk was a dark cherry wood, mostly plain, but still elegant. There were to other doors that I assumed were closets of some sorts on opposing walls. They each had full length mirrors on the doors. Shelves were lined with awards, old copies of text books, and yearbooks. There were newspapers framed with articles written about people who were alumni of my school. There was very little clutter, but it somehow felt full in the tiny office space.

“Sit.” AJ commanded as he slammed the door shut behind me.

I put my hands on my hips, “Why? So you can bark at me some more? I don’t think so. I think you, me, and Mr. Ambrose need to have a talk about what happened a week ago.” He took a step toward me, then another, focusing on what I was saying. “I don’t appreciate the way you’ve been treating me. Can the three of us just get along until I graduate?”

AJ looked me up and down. “How has Mr. Ambrose been treating you?”

I looked at him puzzled, “Does it matter?”

He took hold of my ponytail, forced me to look at him dead in the eyes, “Enough with attitude or your punishment will only get worse.”

I shuddered, “P-p-punishment?”

AJ smirked, “That’s right, darlin’.” He released my hair and walked around to sit on his desk chair. Pulling out his cell phone he typed something quickly, then set it back down on the desk. AJ looked at me with a hunger in his eyes, “Come tell Daddy what Mr. Ambrose has been doing to you.”

I began to sit down on a chair in front of his desk, “No, no, sweetheart.” I looked up to see him calling me with a finger, patting his lap with the other hand. “Come sit on Daddy’s lap.” I hesitated, Oh boy. “Don’t be shy.” AJ coo-ed.

As I walked around the desk to AJ’s open lap, there was a wetness building up between my legs. What kind of punishment is this? I wondered.

I sat down on his left thigh, I could feel something beginning to harden through his pants. His hand rest on my thigh, pushing aside my skirt so he touched my skin. My body trembled under his warm, soft touch. AJ smelled warm and musky, but there was something hidden under the musk. A fruit. Like, peaches?

“Now, tell me, sweetheart, what has Mr. Ambrose been doing to you?”

I swallowed hard, “Nothing, Mr. Styles.”

He tsked and gave a light swat to my rear. “It’s, Daddy, darlin’.” He corrected me.

A small, quiet moan escaped my lips from the light spanking, “Yes, Daddy.” I noted the satisfied smile on his face.

“You say Mr. Ambrose hasn’t done anything to you?” He looked confused, “Are you lying to Daddy?” His palm rubbed my ass again.

“No, Daddy!” I bit my lip, my hips were grinding on his thigh. “That’s what he’s done; nothing. He put in the back of the class, he pretends like I don’t exist, and he gave me a low score on my last homework assignment.”

“My poor, love.” He hummed, “You’re not getting the attention you deserve, are you?”

I shook my head in response.

His hand came down on my backside again, harder this time. “Don’t forget who I am. You must use your words, darlin’.” His hand that had been on my thigh brushed up my flesh under my skirt, “Do you want Daddy to take care of you?” His fingers tugged at my lacey panties, tracing circles on my inner thigh, right next to were my body needed him most.

“Yes, please, Daddy.” I moaned.

His lips pressed against mine, kissing me more passionately than anyone before him. I eagerly parted my lips to allow his tongue full access. He explored my mouth, teased my tongue, causing the pool between my thighs to moisten further.

I felt his fingers move to my slit. AJ’s thumb rubbed against my clit as he pushed two fingers inside of me. I moaned against his mouth as they pressed against my entrance, pumping in and out.

“Your shirt,” he whispered as his lips trailed down my neck, “Remove it.”

I started working on one button at a time, my fingers shaking as my orgasm neared. Once opened, I let the oxford fall off my shoulders and reached back to remove my bra with AJ’s kisses trailing all over my collar bone. I cried out as he latched onto my left nipple.

“Shhh, darlin’.” He whispered against my skin, “Do not come until I say so.”

I whimpered, “Yes, Daddy.”

He continued torturing my body, making me shiver with every movement of his fingers, every flick of his tongue. I didn’t know how I was going to make it, I was going to explode before AJ let me come.

AJ slid his fingers out of me and remove his lips from my breast. I whined as the sensation of him disappeared.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Daddy’s got something better for you.” He smirked as he reached down to his pants that were filled a growing bulge. He undid the button and the zipper. I watched hungrily as he pushed the fabric aside and allowed his erection spring forward.

“Fuck!” I whispered. I had been right last week when I watched AJ jerk off to Dean and I; he was huge! I bit my lip at the thought of trying to fit him inside of me.

AJ chuckled as if he could read my thoughts, “It’ll fit.” He assured me, helping me adjust on his lap so my entrance hovered over it. I lowered my pussy down onto his shaft, grunting as I adjusted to his girth. “Tell me something, darlin’. How many times did you come with Mr. Ambrose?”

“Two, Daddy.” I admitted, feeling myself clenching around him.

AJ simply smirked, “I’ll be sure to double that. Kitten deserves some real attention.”

He took hold of my hips by my uniform skirt and pushed me up and down along his member. I moaned as the head of his cock rubbed over my sensitive G spot. I was already so close and we had just started moving.

“Can I come yet, Daddy?” I begged.

“Not yet. Wait until I say so.”

I whimpered again, not knowing how long I could hold on for. I circled my hips up and down on his lap, grinding on his cock. It felt so good to have him inside of me. AJ’s lips grazed the skin of my collar bone as his lips made their way down to my breasts again.

“You’re so soft, Miss. (Y/L/N). So warm. So tight.” His tongue flicked against my right nipple and my walls squeezed him again. His hips began to thrust up into me, still holding my waist to steady my body. His mouth wrapped around my nipple and his pace quicken.

I couldn’t hold it in any longer. My orgasm came crashing down, causing me to squeeze AJ even tighter as I cried out for him. His thrusts stopped and his hand raked across my ass. I yelped at the stinging sensation on my cheek.

AJ tsked again and stood up, knocking me to the floor. “Daddy told you to wait to come until he told you, didn’t he?”

I nodded.

AJ grabbed my ponytail again and pushed me forward between his ankles so he could give my behind another good smack. I could feel my butt turning red from his palm. He let me up then pushed his pants and boxers to the ground. He kicked off his shoes and pants.

“Your skirt, shoes, and socks need to go.”

I quickly stood and did as I was told. Removing everything except for my panties. I stood there almost completely naked and watched AJ loosen his blue and red striped tie. He laid it down nice and neat on the desk, next to where I stood.

AJ’s eyes looked me over, “You’re so beautiful, Miss. (Y/L/N). And with the mirrors on my supply closets it’s nice to get a full view of you.” His gaze shifted behind me to the closet door. “I can see my hand print.”

I blushed. “Yes, Daddy.”

“On your knees.” He told me. I knelt before him, his cock was in line with my mouth. I knew what he wanted. “Now, be a good girl and suck Daddy’s cock.”

I took one hand and guided it into my mouth. My lips wrapped around his member and I pumped him in and out of my mouth. Using my hand as an extension, I heard him moan in pleasure. “Good girl.” AJ praised me.

The praise only made me quicken my movements. The taste of his precum was on my tongue already. I felt him bend, limiting my movements. His hand lightly tapped on my ass, spreading my cheeks. “You should see yourself in this mirror, love.” AJ’s fingers tugged on my thong.

I whimpered as his finger trailed passed my butt and down to my wetness. My body still ached for more of him. He stood up straight, leaving my body in need of him still.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Clean daddy’s dick off. Can you taste yourself?”

“Yes, Daddy.” I whispered with a flick of my tongue, then plunged him right back into my mouth.

I looked up to see him pulling the tie off the desk, “Your punishment for being so mouthy.” He smirked and took my hands and tied them behind my back. My mouth could only go so far down his shaft and it was tough not to get the momentum going that I had before.

AJ must have gotten impatient because his hand took hold of my ponytail, keeping my head still while his hips thrust in my face. I felt my gag reflexes kick in and my throat closed around his cock. I choked.

“This is what happens when you don’t do as you’re told, darlin’.” He smiled pulling me off him.

“Yes, daddy.” I croaked, tears filled my eyes from the gagging.

AJ leaned over and pushed aside papers and pens from his desk, “Lay down.” He instructed.

I walked over to the desk and, with AJ’s hand guiding me, laid across the top of it. My hands were still bound behind me and the cool wood of the desktop pushing them into my back was slightly uncomfortable. AJ plopped down in his desk chair and scooted in between my legs. I groaned as the tip of his finger traced patterns along the outside of my slit, teasing me.

“Daddy, please?” I begged.

“You look so tasty, darlin’. I want to savor you.”

There was a knock at the door and I jumped.

“Boss?” A voice said on the other side of AJ’s door.

It was Dean. My heart raced and I began to be filled with panic.

“Come in, Mr. Ambrose.” AJ yelled.

“AJ!” I rasped. I tried to sit up or roll off the desk, but couldn’t without use of my hands.

His fingertips lightly slapped against my clit and my head fell back, mouth agape in a moan. “Daddy!” He hissed back.

Dean walked into the office and his eyes flew open wide, quickly making sure to shut the door behind him. He looked us over. “What’s going on here?” He demanded.

“Miss. (Y/L/N) was just telling me how you weren’t giving her enough attention.” AJ smirked, his finger slipped inside of me and I moaned at his touch. Goosebumps ran up my body. “I called you in here to show you how to properly give a woman like her attention.”

I heard a low growl rumble through Dean’s chest, “I refuse to-“

“Ah, ah, ah.” AJ wagged his free finger. “You’ll stay here and watch or I’ll out us all.”

My heart stopped and I looked up at AJ, “Wha-“ His fingers moved again causing me to writhe with pleasure.

“You’re bluffing.” Ambrose huffed.

“If you really believe that, leave. But are you really will to risk getting yourself or Kitten here in trouble?”

I could see the wheels in Dean’s head turning. He was weighing out his options. He looked at me laying there on AJ’s desk. His eyes trailed down my body then looked back up at my face. He sighed.

“Fine.”

He sat in one the chairs.

Suddenly, AJ’s tongue brushed against my clit. My eyes rolled back again and he began tormenting me with his tongue.

“You’re right, Ambrose.” He looked up at Dean, “She tastes as good as she looks.” He slipped a finger inside of me, “Come when you’re ready this time, sweet pea.” He told me gently and his lower lip pouted against my already sensitive bud.

My cunt moistened and my hips bucked against his head. AJ’s mouth was just as talented as the rest of his body and soon I melted against him. Crying out and moaning his name.

“Oh my God, Daddy.” I whispered as he stood up to meet my moans with kisses.

He slipped his member inside of me while my core was still curled from the force of my second orgasm.

“Jesus,” He grumbled, wrapping my legs around his hips. “You tightened right back up, like I’ve never been inside of you before.” His thrusts were deep and hard. My tailbone crushed my hands into the desk. “Do you like the way Daddy fucks you, (Y/N)?”

I whimpered while his fingers dug into my skin, “Yes Daddy.”

AJ licked his lips, eyes focused on my bouncing breasts, “Maybe you should Mr. Ambrose, Darlin’. Tell him how good it feels.”

My head leaned back, Dean was upside down in my prospective. There was a bulge in his pants that was noticeable, although he was attempting to keep it covered by his hand. I bit my lip and locked eyes with him, “It feels so good how Daddy fucks me.” Anger flashed through Ambrose’s eyes. He’s jealous?

AJ’s thumb pressed against my clit and the pressure sent me close to the edge. I turned my attention back to AJ, moaning and whimpering. “Can I come yet, Daddy?” I begged. “Please?”

AJ smirked, “Yes, baby. Come for Daddy.” He leaned down and took my perked nipple in his mouth, allowing his teeth to graze along the flesh.

I cried out, my eyes rolled to the back of my head. My third orgasm crashed over me, and I was starting to feel exhausted. My breathing was heavy and I could feel a flush coming from my neck through my face. AJ was sweating but still looking like he could continue for hours.

AJ helped me up and stood me up as best he could. I leaned my weight against him, beginning to feel a little like a ragdoll. AJ positioned me in front of him so I was facing the mirror on the back of the supply closet door.

“Look.” He whispered.

I did. My face was redder than I thought it was. My hair was frizzed out and falling out of my ponytail. There were bruises forming on my hips where his fingers had held me. I was sure that my backside was covered with bruises as well from my knuckles being pressed into it.

AJ gave me a kiss on the neck, “You’re mine.” He whispered so only I could hear it.

In that moment, I forgot Dean was in the room. I forgot that I was only in high school and fucking my principal. I nodded, “Yes, Daddy.” I told him back, “I am yours.”

I heard him moan and he spun me to lay face down on his desk. AJ’s palm kneaded my ass. “She’s mine.” He growled.

Dean was glaring at AJ. I could hear a low, animalistic growl coming from his body. His eyes moved to me and I realized what I had done. My heart broke.

AJ slammed his shaft back into me again and again. I knew he was close and I could feel my fourth orgasm nearing. But I was too distracted to fully enjoy it. I wanted to reach out to Dean. I wanted him to know I loved him just as much as I loved AJ.. I love them both.

AJ’s cock rolled over my gspot for a final time. “Dean!” I whined as my orgasm shuddered down my spine.

AJ came, spilling his load into me. “What did you say?” He gasped out of breath.

I looked up to see Dean’s eyes were wide with surprise. His mouth slowly turned up into a satisfied grin. “I think we both heard what she said, AJ.”

A hard pain shot through my ass. AJ’s hand stung against my flesh. It stung enough to make me cry out and my eyes filled with tears knowing I had fucked up completely. AJ pulled out of me and gathered his clothes up.

“Get out. Both of you.” Principal Styles growled and walked into the supply closet to get dressed, slamming the door behind him.

I let out a sob. “Wait. AJ!”

“Don’t cry.” Dean said, standing next to me with my clothes. “I’ll treat you better the next time I have you.”

“What?” I looked confused.

Dean simply winked and gave me a light kiss on the forehead before leaving me alone to get dressed in AJ’s empty office.

#wwe fanfiction #lessons to be learned #aj styles x reader #dean ambrose x reader #aj styles fanfiction #dean ambrose fanfiction #wwe high school au

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believermag · 8 years ago

Text

Something Happened on the Day He Died

Jordan A. Rothacker on David Bowie

On Friday, January 8th 2016, David Bowie turned sixty-nine and his final album Blackstar, was released. I purchased it that morning, having waited for months. On the following day I sat for a black star tattoo straight from the album cover; a recent writing project was lousy with black stars and I felt more than ever that Bowie and I were on the same wave. After a weekend of listening to the album I was awoken Monday morning, January 11th 2016 by my wife, “before you look at your phone, Bowie passed away yesterday.” She was right, my text messages were as full as my Facebook feed with tearful and shocked notifications from friends, but I was glad I heard it from her first.

It took until December of 2016 for me to finally read Simon Critchley’s little book, Bowie (OR Books/Counterpoint, 2016). I’ve wanted this book since it came out in 2014 and I remember reacting, “a book by one of my favorite living philosophers on one of my favorite living everythings? Yes, please.” Luckily I put it off until this 2016 re-issue with extra chapters treating Bowie’s death and final album. Although most of the book was written more than two years ago it is hard not to read the whole thing eulogistically. His spirit goes on though, now more than ever, as the last dreadful year has come to a close. I lost of close friends and faith in my country, but now my thoughts turn back to Bowie with hope his art can carry me forward.

What have I lost in Bowie? For the most part, the same things we all have: the chance for more music, more movie appearances, and just the knowledge that he is out there being brilliant and dashing, making art, and giving a wry smile to a paparazzo. What have I lost personally? True confession time. I have always dreamed of knowing Bowie (I’ve never even seen him perform live), but more so, and more embarrassingly, I’ve always wanted him to know me. I’d hoped one day he would read one of my books and like it. That moment of mutual respect between artists, that bump to my sense of worth from an artist who has helped shape my understanding of the world, art, and myself.

This is why sometimes Critchley’s book feels like it’s talking to me or for me. I haven’t read much about Bowie. He is mine and my feelings for him and about him need not be mediated. Critchley’s book however is now added to a small list of my favorite Bowie books which also includes Hugo Wilcken’s Low and Steve Erickson’s These Dreams of You.

Critchley’s book praises Wilcken’s so I’ll start there and circle around back. Wilcken’s Low (Continuum, 2010) doesn’t need a book review; it’s kinda perfect (I say kinda since perfect is such a strong word). It’s one of the best 33 1/3s I’ve read, and I’ve read a lot. I’m a sucker for this series of tiny books on albums of music as I have always suffered from that most Cartesian of obsessions in regards to my most beloved art works, the need to know how he, she, or they did it. The reverse engineering of a work gives me faith that maybe I could also do or make something comparable. Wilcken’s Low is like the sweetest of candies; I wanted to devour and savor all at once, which is difficult with such a short book. Wilcken chose Low because it was a definitive turning point in Bowie’s body of work and during maybe the most beloved period in the myth of the artist. In 136 pages the reader experiences a thorough historical context for the album and detailed production notes for each song as well as each song. The most important moments I savor from this book are descriptions of his work ethic and the well-researched information about his time in Berlin.

After a teenage obsession with Ziggy Stardust, the Berlin years have always been my favorite period and that’s where Erickson’s These Dreams of You (Europa Editions, 2012) comes in, illustrating the Berlin years in the subplot of a larger novel. The book is about a white novelist, Alexander “Zan” Nordhoc, and his family. The narrative opens with the election of Barack Obama not long after their adoption of a little Ethiopian girl with gray eyes named, Zema (mostly called, Sheba). The structure involves small paragraph vignettes familiar from Erickson’s last Europa novel, Zeroville, but otherwise from the start of my first read I wondered, “is Steve Erickson actually writing a domestic family novel? Where is the trademarked weirdness I love so much?” My worries were for naught, for after about fifty pages it started getting weird, and oh so wonderfully weird. Ultimately it is a novel about race in America and therefore about America itself. On the second page, watching the first black president’s victory, Zan wonders, “Do I have the right… as a middle-aged white man, to hold my face in my hands? and then thinks, No. And holds his face in his hands anyway, silently mortified that he might do something so trite as sob.”

It is the only book by a white guy that I included in my African Diaspora Literature course, and only in a summer section to follow complementarily Obama’s memoir, Dreams From My Father. The book captures the spirit of Obama’s election, his place in history, but never directly names him. This is Erickson’s way of writing historical fiction since Zeroville, never naming names. But what does this have to do with David Bowie? We can only assume that he is the “British extraterrestrial in a dress” or “the man who sings the hero song [with] red hair” whom four year old Sheba/Zema is obsessed with. These Dreams of You is a complicated work that shows all of Erickson’s narrative deftness, the twisting, ellipsing Mobius strip orchestration of strands and timelines that all interweave and make total sense by the end. One of those twists that proves essential to the whole follows a black woman named Jasmine, who while working in the music business is assigned to assist a rocker who seems a lot like David Bowie. She accompanies him and his friend Jim (Iggy Pop?) to Berlin where they record music with a man called The Professor (Brian Eno?). In his not so covert way, Erickson depicts the recording of the albums Low and “Heroes” and all of the escapades of that period: the lingering Crowley occultism, the conviction to kick cocaine through copious amounts of alcohol, the transvestite clubs, the obsession with kraut-rock like Can, Neu!, and Kraftwerk. Moreover, Erickson captures what drew Bowie to Berlin, what first enticed him through the writing of Christopher Isherwood. Berlin was not just the City of Ghosts, it was the City of the Wall, both East and West, Old World and New, Weimar burlesque and pulsing kraut-rock. It was a time and place that inspired Bowie to create two of his greatest albums (and eventually Lodger, which is still pretty good) that both helped take “pop” music to a whole new place, along with great solo work from Iggy Pop (The Idiot and Lust For Life, both produced and co-written with Bowie). In the almost caricatured portraits by Erickson are a stylized ideal of the artists at work, inspired by this liminal space, the guards posted on the Wall just outside the Hansa studio windows. It is a space where maybe the most emblematic theme in Bowie’s work comes out: love as defiance. “I can remember/Standing, by the wall/And the guns, shot above our heads/And we kissed, as though nothing could fall/And the shame, was on the other side/Oh, we can beat them, forever and ever/Then we could be heroes, just for one day,” as he says in the song “Heroes.”

But now, what does this have to do with a book about race in America? The Bowie character in the book tries to explain to Jasmine why he’s in Berlin and what this new work is all about. “Look, the whole century has been about black and white fucking… New York Jews like Gershwin, Kern, Arlen cumming southern Negro music while Duke Ellington ravishes Nineteenth Century Europeans like Debussy,” he says. Erickson’s use of “Bowie” gets at the heart of another central theme in Bowie’s oeuvre, the embracing and merging of binaries.

This is why I chose the book for my class and why I believe the students responded so well to it. The narrator explains, “Zan began pondering race when he was younger only because he began pondering his country, and knew that it wasn’t possible to understand his country without pondering slavery and it wasn’t possible to understand slavery without pondering race. He considered how his countrymen from Africa were the only ones who didn’t choose to be there; Africans were compelled to come and only once they were made to come did they choose to stay. Did that make them, then, the true owners of the country’s great idea, by virtue of having accepted the country in the face of so many reasons not to? If the country is more an idea than a place then are those who were so compelled its true occupants, given how the country’s promise to them was broken before it was offered?”. This is to support a conversation Zan has about race in America a little earlier where he says, “what the zealot or the ideologue really believes in is the zealous nature itself, the devout embrace of hard distinctions—the crusade against gray.”

As this book illustrates, grayness is what Bowie was all about. This AND that. Andro and gyne. Like how gray is both black and white, Bowie was masculine and feminine, straight and gay, artist and pop star (one could be critical and declare that all of this grayness is aspirational and point out that Bowie never escaped being a white, straight male whose aesthetic endeavors were all rooted in privilege and appropriation, but right now I am most certainly here to praise Caesar). Bowie helped destroy binaries by embracing them. His place in Erickson’s wonderful novel helps express this. If you think Erickson might be alone in this sentiment some tangential support might be found in the Acknowledgements of the 2016 novel, Underground Railroad, where Colson Whitehead says, “David Bowie is in every book [of mine].”

It is especially the last duality, Artist and Pop Star, which always excited me most about Bowie. He was legit and fun. Dissertation-worthy and danceable. He was the first side of Low and the second. He was references to Greta Garbo and the Golden Dawn all in one song. Maybe this is what makes David Bowie the quintessential Pop Star to many people. In Low, Wilcken explains how “popular music as it developed in the fifties and sixties turns the cultural paradigm on its head. With pop, postmodernism always came before modernism. Pop culture didn’t actually need any Andy Warhol to make it postmodern. Rock ‘n’ roll was never anything but a faked-up blues—something that the glam-era Bowie had understood perfectly,” and then quoting Brian Eno: “Some people say Bowie is all surface style and second-hand ideas, but that sounds like the definition of pop to me.”

This now brings me back to Critchley’s book in which early on he describes the “inauthenticity” of Bowie. “The ironic self-awareness of the artist and their audience can only be that of their inauthenticity, repeated at increasingly conscious levels.” Bowie clearly understands this as is evidenced in his song “Andy Warhol” off Hunky Dory (1971) in which we find the line, “Andy Warhol, silver screen/Can’t tell them apart at all.” On this topic Critchley continues, “Art’s filthy lesson is inauthenticity all the way down, a series of repetitions and reenactments: fakes that strip away the illusion of reality in which we live and confront us with the reality of illusion;” and, “Bowie’s genius allows us to break the superficial link that seems to connect authenticity to truth.” Finally, after more Heideggerian digressions, he brings it all home with: “In my humble opinion, authenticity is the curse of music from which we need to cure ourselves. Bowie can help. His art is a radically contrived and reflexively away confection of illusion whose fakery is not false, but at the service of a felt corporeal truth.”

I might not have been able to express this better myself and that is why I’m so grateful Critchely did. He and I are of the same world, a world he describes “of people for whom Bowie was the being who permitted a powerful emotional connection and freed them to become some other kind of self, something freer, more queer, more honest, more open, and more exciting.” Critchley also helped me understand that what makes Bowie’s music so successful in reaching people is that what is at its core is a yearning for connection. For all of Bowie’s lyrics about tragic characters, dystopian settings, solitude, and loneliness, there is a romantic notion about the ability of love to triumph in some small way, to make us heroes even, just for one day. The song that ends the album Ziggy Stardust (1972), that ends the eponymous tragic character’s narrative, is called “Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide” and it sure hit a nerve with me as an angsty teenager. It can still bring a tear to my eye as the pleading bombast of final lyrics (which Critchley writes about in a short chapter titled, “Wonderful”):

Oh no love! You’re not alone No matter what or who you’ve been No matter when or where you’ve seen All the knives seem to lacerate your brain I’ve had my share I’ll help you with the pain You’re not alone Just turn on with me and you’re not alone Let’s turn on with me and you’re not alone (wonderful) Let’s turn on and be not alone (wonderful) Gimme your hands ’cause you’re wonderful (wonderful) Gimme your hands ’cause you’re wonderful (wonderful) Oh gimme your hands.

Critchley’s little book is heartfelt and thoughtful. I’ve read it twice now—almost as many times as the other two books—and it is another element in my connection to a great artist that I will never know but always love. What these three books reinforce to me about David Bowie, the thing I take the most away from him after sheer aesthetic pleasure, is a deeply committed artistic discipline. Critchley dwells on the fakeness and inauthenticity of Bowie’s artistry, and while I like what he makes of that philosophically, I’ve always understood this about Bowie to just be professionalism. Bowie wasn’t some bright shooting star of a rocker, burning himself out and dying young, although he did get to experience that with his Ziggy Stardust personae. David Bowie was a consummate artist who mostly worked in the medium of popular music and created great work until the end of his life, a year ago today.

Jordan A. Rothacker is the author of the novella, The Pit, and No Other Stories (Black Hill Press, 2015), and the novel, And Wind Will Wash Away (Deeds, 2016). He holds a PhD in Comparative Literature and a MA in Religion from the University of Georgia. He lives in Athens, Georgia.

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azuregold · 8 years ago

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ALL OF THEM (°∀°)b☆

You’re evil. XD This was fun, though!

When did you first start writing?

I don’t remember, exactly? I know I was making tiny books for my toys by the time I was seven. The stories weren’t very long, but I remember being proud of them.

What was your favorite book growing up?

Hmm…IDK if I can remember a specific one? I had a lot of books I liked when I was a kid. Marguerite Henry’s books were pretty high up there, I think. And then when I was…IDK, nine, maybe? my mom got me Katherine Kurtz’s Chronicles of the Deryni trilogy and those (and the other books in that world) were my favorites for a long time.

Are you an avid reader?

Definitely. I don’t get through as many books as I used to internet + fanfic are great at eating up my time, but I read at least a little bit pretty much every day.

Have you ever thrown a book across the room?

I’d never do it physically, but it can be very satisfying to do it in my head when I’m really upset with a book.

Did you take writing courses in school/college?

A little bit. It didn’t work out for me all that well. I can’t write on command, and prompts and such don’t do much for me, so if I wasn’t inspired during class, or we were told to write about a theme I couldn’t think of anything for, things got very frustrating very quickly.

Have you read any writing-advice books?

Quite a few, yes. Sometimes they can be dry, or they give advice I don’t agree with, but they can be helpful. And How Not to Write a Novel is hilarious. XD

Have you ever been part of a critique group?

Not really, no! I’m not sure I could handle it, at least not yet.

What’s the best piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten?

I love all of it! I don’t think I’d appreciate a flame, but thankfully I’ve never gotten one of those *knocks on wood* My favorites are probably the ones that either go into detail about what they think, or are a mess of excited flailing, though. XD (But seriously, it’s all great!)

What’s the worst piece of feedback you’ve ever gotten?

I haven’t gotten anything actually bad, but I did get a review once that said one thing about my story, then spent the rest of the review telling me about their story and asking me to read it. It was kind of awkward.

What’s your biggest writer pet-peeve?

Not having at least semi-decent SPaG. If you’re constantly misspelling things or using the wrong word, if you put multiple speakers on the same line, etc, you’d have to have the most amazing plot in the world for me to even consider continuing.

(Special mention because I’ve seen this a lot recently: putting one character’s actions on the same line as another character’s dialogue. IT GETS SO DAMN CONFUSING. Especially if not every line has a dialogue tag. You can start a new paragraph with action, you don’t have to wait until the moment someone else speaks to go to the next line. Really. I promise.)

What’s your favorite book cover?

I know I’ve seen some awesome ones, but right now IDK.

Who is your favorite author?

Seanan McGuire! Jim Butcher would probably be second.

What’s your favorite writing quote?

No idea? I’ve seen some good ones floating around, but I don’t keep a list or anything.

What’s your favorite writing blog? c;

Like, writing-advice blog, or person-posting-their-writing blog? Either way, I’m not following/reading very many, so it’s hard to make a comparison (Ceren’s writing is really good though!).

What would you say has inspired you the most?

Other stories. Which is not to say that I copy stuff, just that, like, I’ll read a story about ghosts, get interested in the topic, and want to create my own, or I’ll want to write a story that leaves me with the same sort of feeling as what I just read or watched. Stuff like that.

How do you feel about movies based on books?

I still get excited about them even though they rarely come out well compared to the books. I can’t really separate them in my head even when I try, so I’m usually disappointed, but I keep trying and keep looking forward to the movies anyway.

Would you like your books to be turned into TV shows, movies, video games, or none?

Once I actually have books, yes! Any of them, really. I’d want to be sure that whoever was adapting them was treating them with respect, and I’d prefer to have some control over what parts were changed or cut out (or added). And I’d want it to have a decent budget, so it wouldn’t come off looking like a b-movie (TV show, etc).

How do you feel about love triangles?

No thank you. There are stories I’ve liked that had love triangles, but I can’t think of any time where the triangle itself was one of the things I liked. (Someone changing their affections from one character to another I liked better, yes, but not the whole liking-two-people-at-the-same-time-however-will-they-choose thing.)

Do you prefer writing on a computer or longhand?

Computer. Definitely computer. My handwriting is super slow and tires my hand easily. Also, I write with my left hand, so I get ink/graphite all over it when I write. OTL

What’s your favorite writing program?

I’m using LibreOffice at the moment, and it works fine. I’ve heard about some that are supposed to be good that I’d like to check out sometime, though. I’ve been meaning to give Scrivener a try for a while now.

Do you outline?

A general outline, yes. I don’t usually have all the little details figured out, but I know where the story is headed.

Do you start with characters or plot?

Plot, mostly, though sometimes I get an idea for a character that doesn’t really fit in with any of my current stories.

What’s your favorite & least favorite part of making characters?

Favorite is probably getting the initial idea and filling in the general outline, especially when I know just how they’re going to fit into the story and I can feel things starting to click into place.

Least favorite, either designing their outfit (I’m okay with physical appearance, but clothes in particular are not one of my strong points), or getting into the super detailed stuff that shows up on those OC questionnaire lists and will probably never be in the story. I can’t really decide how a character would feel about X topic or what other characters would say about them behind their back or whatever before I’m actually writing the story. When I try, it feels like I’m locking myself into a position and can’t easily change it even if the story would be better if I adjusted the character’s personality.

What’s your favorite & least favorite part of plotting?

Favorite is figuring out the big picture and deciding where it’s all going to end up. Least favorite, probably the stuff in the middle, where I have to figure out exactly how things are going to progress from point A to point B (and all the way on to point Z).

What advice would you give to young writers?

Write! Read! And check out some guides on spelling, punctuation, and grammar at some point. XD

Which do you enjoy reading the most: physical, ebook, or both?

Both! It’s easier to turn pages on ebooks when I only have one hand free, and I love the dictionary function and being able to search for a specific name or word if I don’t remember where in the book I heard it last I also love being able to check out ebooks from the library without leaving the house. But I’ll always love physical books and want to have physical copies of my favorites. They’re easier to flip back or forward to check things, too, like when there’s a map in the front of the book and the characters keep talking about the different cities and countries it’s also easier to spoil myself on the ending if I want to make sure a character survives. ( ￣３￣)～♪

Which is your favorite genre to write?

Supernatural/fantasy. Especially in a more modern setting (though I’m not so big on most sci-fi. I like magic and ghosts and demons ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ).

Which do you find hardest: the beginning, the middle, or the end?

The middle. Not that the rest is easy, but the middle is usually the hardest.

Which do you find easiest: writing or editing?

Editing, usually.

Have you ever written fan-fiction?

Considering I started this blog because of my fanfiction, I’d say yes. XD My fanfic is longer than anything original I’ve written so far, actually, ahaha.

Have you ever been published?

Nope.

How do you feel about friends and close relatives reading your work?

Pretty scary. Maybe even more than showing strangers, unless it’s a friend I met through writing. *squishes @sircerenade*

Are you interested in having your work published?

Absolutely. Someday. OTL

Describe your writing space.

My computer desk. It’s not super messy but there’s not a lot of free space, either.

What’s your favorite time of day for writing?

Hmm…probably either early afternoon or at night.

Do you listen to music when you write?

Most of the time. Instrumentals only. And occasionally I prefer silence.

What’s your oldest WIP?

For original stuff? A thing I wrote for a school assignment and decided to expand into a book. I’ve kind of lost the inspiration for it, but there’s always a chance I might come back to it someday. For fanfic, From Mist and Ashes.

What’s your current WIP?

For original stuff, an idea that’s very special to me, with the current working title of Afterword. For fanfic, again, From Mist and Ashes. Plus a dozen or so other ideas crammed in a folder. XD Hey, some of them have a paragraph or so written! They count as WIPs! Honest!

What’s the weirdest story idea you’ve ever had?

Nothing I want to talk about. >.> My really weird ideas never leave my head.

Which is your favorite original character, and why?

From my original stuff? I love them all. But Razai is one of my oldest and probably has the most put into him, so if I had to choose… Kazuya is probably the one I’m most excited about at this moment, though.

What do you do when characters don’t follow the outline?

I see where they want to go, then either I agree with them, we compromise, or I rein them back in and explain why things can’t happen that way.

Do you enjoy making your characters suffer?

I want to? I have a hard time following through, but I try. XD

Have you ever killed a main character?

Does it count if I kill them before the story starts? XD If so, then I’ve killed almost everyone in both my original stuff and Mistyverse. During the actual story…not really, no. Do villains count as main characters? What if they come back to life later? I’m not a fan of character death, so I don’t usually put it in my stories unless there’s something more to it.

What’s the weirdest character concept you’ve ever come up with?

IDK, none of them seem all that weird to me. Though that may just be because of all the manga and anime I’ve been exposed to. X’D

What’s your favorite character name?

I couldn’t pick a single favorite.

Describe your perfect writing space.

I don’t know about physically (I feel like something different than what I currently have would be better, though I couldn’t say what would be ideal without actually trying it), but I need to be alone in the room (kitties are an exception). I can’t focus on writing if there’s anyone else in the room with me.

If you could steal one character from another author and make then yours, who would it be and why?

Tybalt, probably. But only if I could just keep him for myself and wouldn’t be expected to actually take over writing him or anything.

If you could write the next book of any series, which one would it be, and what would you make the book about?

I could never. Way too much pressure.

If you could write a collaboration with another author, who would it be and what would you write about?

I don’t think I could ever do that. I’d be too scared to mention my ideas in case the other person didn’t like them, and I’d be too intimidated to turn down an idea of theirs I didn’t like. Then I’d get frustrated that I couldn’t take the story in the direction I wanted, and the whole thing would end in pain. “OTL

If you could live in any fictional world, which would it be?

My stock answer to this for years has been Pokemon, but I’m sure there are other worlds I’d enjoy as much or more especially if healing/medicine were more advanced than the real world, and there were better opportunities to support yourself by doing something you loved. I wouldn’t want anything too dark or evil, and it would need to have something approaching modern technology or a magic equivalent I don’t want to live in a world without indoor plumbing, thanks.

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