#you like it because it reminds you of a trip you took in 2006

[saintlioncourt]

its not enough to send someone a song i like!! i need to be able to send them every experience and emotion ive ever felt so they can UNDERSTAND

[thats-godscomma]

OKAY SO IT'S THE WEEKEND AND I FINALLY FINISHED MY NOTES AND FUN LITTLE HEADCANON BASED ON THE RESUME

(Please go read the resume yourself if you haven't. It's funny, and I'm sure the Psych writers took a lot of time making it.)

Firstly, Shawn apparently held 57 jobs in total prior to Psych, and I am like 87% certain that somewhere in USA’s offices, there’s like a piece of paper with all 57. Now if SOMEONE is willing to take one for the team-

Chairman and CEO, Psych, Santa Barbara, CA, 2006 - Present

Assistant Race Chair, Newport Sailing Assoc., Newport Beach, CA 2006

GENTLE REMINDER that Shawn sent postcards to his dad all the time. Do you think Henry cried when he got a postcard in the mail with a photo of Shawn placing third in a sailing competition?

(Then ofc there was the eventual realization that Shawn probably still doesn’t have a boating license so Henry runs his hands down his face in disapproval before tacking the photo on the fridge anyway)

Teacher, English as a Foreign Language, Kho Samui, Thailand, 2005

SHAWN TOTALLY KNOWS THAI!! FIGHT ME!!!! I am convinced that he’s fluent in several languages.

No, you don’t need to be fluent in a country’s native language to be an English teacher there. I know that. But he picks up languages pretty quickly. (We know that after he spoke Spanish well at the end of S4E14 and talked about working at a winery in Argentina in S3E4.) My money’s on Shawn knowing Thai, Spanish, and Swahili.

Or at least he’s fluent in speaking and listening. I am a firm believer that he graded student’s essays using pictures and rudimentary comic strips.

“Coordinated English-speaking opportunities for local students” I’m just imagining Shawn taking his students on “improvisational field trips” to places like the movie theater because “Hearing and watching English films will help you get used to the proper speed and cadence of native English speakers. Now let’s go see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.”

Lucky for him, his weird logic actually worked :) His students spoke English way better than the other classes, even if their grammar wasn’t 100%. The problem was the school district wanted to move him to primary school :/ He quit quickly afterward.

Concessions Vendor, Literally Everywhere, Why?

Now, this resume includes SIX instances where Shawn was hired as a concessions vendor at various baseball stadiums. It also says, “Tossed purchased items to buyers with accuracy and precision.” And after reading that, I came up with this idea:

So you know how at baseball games, there are always cameras catching establishing shots of the fans while the commentators talk between innings? So imagine it's an MLB All-Star Game. Shawn has one of those hot dog trays, and he’s yelling stuff like “Hot dogs! Get yer hot dogs!” just as the two teams switch off. Suddenly, he hears one of his coworkers yelling, “Shawn! Over here!”  His coworker a section over ran out of hot dogs, and there’s a few people who still want one.

So Shawn sees a hungry patron holding some money, he picks up a hot dog without thinking, yells “Catch!” and throws the dog. They catch it, and now all the other hungry patrons want to try it too! So Shawn just starts tossing hot dogs across this section of fans while his coworker collects the money. What Shawn doesn’t realize is some of the cameras are picking it up.

One of the commentators sees the commotion from atop the stadium, stops mid-sentence and says, “What is that guy doing? Is he throwing hot dogs across the stands?” The TV broadcast switches to Shawn in his funky little uniform tossing another hot dog followed by about fifty fans cheering when the guy catches it. The second commentator laughs, and says, “Now, that’s a great catch.” Does Shawn get fired? Yes. But does the story go viral and make it into Greatest Moments in Baseball 2001? Also yes.

Baseball fans recognize him as Hot Dog Guy.

Foot and Ankle Model, Apollo Agency, Seattle, WA, 2005

Do you think he was scouted? Was he just being an idiot CA native wearing flip flops in Washington State and some guy was like “I need those in the papers” because I think that’s how this happened.

Do you think Shawn ever sees an advertisement with his foot and he’s like “Ew” and Gus is like “What? You don’t like those shoes?” And Shawn just never clarifies.

This brings a whole new context to Shawn’s offended “I’m a model >:(” in the Black and Tan episode. Also he still gets pedicures regularly, I’m certain.

Customer Service, Ben and Jerry’s, Burlington, VT, 2004

The word “Recruited” pops out to me in the first point about the ice cream tasting focus groups. He called them his Flavor Jury. He also unionized them

Btw there is a Ben and Jerry’s promotional ad somewhere in the Psych universe with Shawn’s face or hand, and I need to know what flavor it was associated with. It’s for science

Raft Guide, Aquablanca Expeditions, San Jose, Costa Rica, 2003-04

Again with my “Shawn secretly knows Spanish” theory. Istg the only reason he struggles in the telenovela episode is because he keeps forgetting which conjugations are dialectical and which are standard Spanish.

Also Shawn as a raft guide is like:

Shawn: *make wrong turn into rapids*

Shawn: *narrowly avoids capsizing*

Shawn: I think that went well. Who wants sandwiches?

Event Planner, Flynn Special Events, Santa Barbara, CA, 2003

Of course he was an event planner. Why wouldn’t he be?

Idk why the line “supervised and guided group activities, including conga line and Chicken Dance” made me think of Shawn leading the dance floor by standing on the DJ platform like a Zumba instructor but just know that’s what I’m imagining

And that last bullet point about training his replacement convinces me that he quits most of these jobs instead of getting fired. Half of his bosses were probably begging for him to stay

Christmas Light Hanger, Mo’s Outdoor Decor, Santa Barbara, CA, 2002

The “first-ever oversized illuminated talking Menorah” was probably the reason he had to “revive electrocuted co-workers when necessary”

Tour Guide, Graceland by Night, Inc., Memphis, TN, 2002

Literally, how was Shawn not already on a government watchlist at this point?

“Shot prop television set with actual handgun” I cannot even begin to process that bullet point. Wtf Shawn

Driver, Oscar Meyer Wienermobile, Madison, WI, 2001-02

You don’t just drive the wienermobile as the pace car for the 2002 Indianapolis 500. He got the job for being Hot Dog Guy. I just know it, but I can’t prove it.

Mystery Shopper, Feedback Incorporated, Santa Barbara, CA, 2000-01

He unionized the mystery shoppers focus group.

Constituent Relations, Assemblyman Skip Warner (D), El Paso, TX, 1999

Never saw Shawn as a political guy, but then I saw the comment on the side: “just doing my civic duty, no matter what the grand jury says…” and I am fully convinced he decked a Republican

Water Ski Instructor, Camp Durango, Silverton, CO, 1998-99

Camp Counselor lookin ass, “Camp Durango” ?? “Young athletes” ??? He babysat a bunch of 11-15 year olds.

It was probably some kind of action and adventure camp where people could sign up for lessons, but over the summer, it’s all little kiddies. Most camps provide free housing for their full-time employees, and full-time means you have to work at the summer camp.

Conclusion: Shawn took this job 20% for the housing benefits, and 80% so he can dunk on middle-schoolers.

He’s that “cool” counselor that pretends he hates kids and drops lore like no one’s business. “Oh yeah, I had to escape from the trunk of a car once. My dad was training me to become the greatest detective in the world.” “Why didn’t you become one?” “It was beneath me. Also I stole a car.”

His silly camp counselor name is obviously Pineapple. Some of the kids made him pineapple-themed crafts one weekend, and he was like *visibly crying* “It’s alright, I guess.”

“Pineapple, have you ever gone bungee jumping?” “Are you kidding me?! I used to teach bungee jumping!”

Shawn curses up a storm when he injures himself in front of the kids, but he likes to make a show of it if someone else even dares to use a bad word.

Other Counselor: Crap.

Shawn: Hey! Little! Ears! Are in the room!

And he’s the best at giving first aid so when his campers get injured (par for the course when teaching water skiing to children) he’s like “UGH why did I take this job” “gosh I hate children” “you little snots are the reason I’m getting wrinkles at 22” while bandaging a kid’s knee, but he does it with such bravado because his real objective is to distract them from the pain that they just laugh at his antics.

Camp Durango is also one of those camps where every cabin tries to rack up points to win some kind of trophy at the end. Pineapple’s cabin always wins B)

Because of his eidetic memory, Shawn always knows when his campers are getting into trouble. He knows all their secrets. This starts a rumor that he’s actually a super spy that had to retire early because of a terrible accident, and now he’s part of witness protection. Of course, Shawn knows, but he refuses to correct them because now his kiddies think twice before breaking the rules.

Camper, out of nowhere mid-lesson: Do you want kids, Pineapple?

Shawn: No, I think children are sticky.

Camper: Then why are you a camp counselor?

Shawn: Because I can do this *tackles child into the water*

Also imagine Shawn being forced to give a “your body is changing” talk to a stressed out 12 year old whose voice cracked for the first time. That’s the first moment he ever seriously considers quitting.

“Skivolley” was created during one of the last weeks of camp because his advanced kids were already experts, and he was running out of things to do to keep them entertained. (Who tf gets bored of water skiing? He’ll never understand kids.)

Camp Leader, last day of camp: And let’s thank our camp counselors for guiding you through the summer and teaching you the morals of Camp Durango—

Shawn, whispering: “I was supposed to teach you losers morals?”

Pineapple Cabin: *giggle intensely*

When one of the kids asks if he’ll be here next summer, and he says no, they all cry and give him a big group hug because they’ll miss him. He tears up a bit too.

Construction, Barrett’s Mardi Gras Universe, Algiers, LA, 1997-98

I am FASCINATED by the idea that Shawn is good at construction. And as someone who has worked in construction before, I am certain that Shawn garnered the reputation of being That Guy at a construction site: the god of construction, the slacker, the one who knows everything there is about building code, the one who also doesn't give a shit about code but somehow makes do. iykyk

He makes up the weirdest, most hare-brained ideas to fix problems when something goes wrong on the job site, and somehow it works?? No one knows how he does it. Also he’s never cut a piece of wood too short, and it pisses everyone off.

Desk Clerk, Hampton Inn, Austin, TX, 1995-96

As someone who was a desk clerk for like three years, it astounds me that he sat for that long. No wonder he “initiated unplanned guest activities and outings.” He probably had nothing better to do, looked at the calendar, and said “I’m gonna start a disco party in the ballroom. Who’s with me?”

And “Provided occasional companionship for solo travelers” Yeah, you could go the obvious route and think he flirted with any solo female in his vicinity (and he totally did, I’m not denying that) but I’m built different. I think he played chess in the lobby with seniors.

Lifeguard, Pacific Emerald Cruise Lines, San Pedro, CA 1994-95

Aww baby’s first adult job (read: he wanted to go on a cruise for free)

Fun Fact: on cruise ships, it is not required to evacuate the swimming pools during a thunder storm because the ocean is a much greater conductor so the chance of lightning hitting the pool is almost the exact same whether or not there’s thunder and lightning.

What I’m trying to say is Shawn totally hosted thunderstorm pool parties.

I’d like to believe that Shawn’s Marco Polo competitions became so popular that Pacific Emerald now hosts Marco Polo events on every cruise.

Also why did “supervised the tanning of others” make me start imagining this scenario:

Pool Deck: calm, quiet, serene

Shawn, through a megaphone: FLIP

Tanners: *simultaneously flip over*

--

K so that's all for the actual resume, but here's a handy dandy list of other jobs of the 57 that were mentioned in the show (might have missed some, I got this from a Psych fan page)

Other Confirmed Jobs Shawn Held Prior to Opening Psych

Candy Store (Position Unknown)

Acupuncturist

Bungee Jumping Expeditionist

Raked the Infield for Nolan Ryan

Scuba Diving Instructor

Greeter at the Flaming Tomahawk Casino

Interpretive Dancer in Buffalo

Winery in Argentina (Position Unknown)

Hasidic Deli (Position Unknown)

Meineke (Position Unknown)

Lobbyist for M&M’s

Ball Boy for Santa Barbara Seabirds

That is all :)

Also @wherdtonygo fun fact, I'm also doing this for every single job he holds during the show so STAY TUNED

So I just learned about "Shawn's Resume" which was the Official Resume made by Shawn Spencer posted to the USA Network site sometime in 2006, but apparently the link doesn't work anymore so people have been settling for a summarized version on LiveJournal but GUESS WHO FOUND IT???? BECAUSE BESTIES IT IS ON THE WAYBACK MACHINE

Here's a link to Shawn's Resume via the Wayback Machine

The video links don't work, but you can still scroll through and read the whole three-page interactive resume :) You are very welcome

[americancinema]

Jessie Rogers

Dr. Malone

COM 260

8 September 2023

Movie Chronicles

Halloween Town was released October 17th, 1998. The film originally debuted on disney channel and it was directed by Duwayne Dunham and written by Paul Bernbaum. The original cast of the movie included Debbie Reynolds, Judith Hoag, Kimberly J. Brown,  Joey Zimmerman, and Emily Roesk. On the website IMDb, it states that the movie received a  6.6 out of 10 rating but I personally think it deserved a 10 out of 10. I wasn’t born when the movie first came out, however, when I came into this world in 2002, this is the first Holiday movie that stuck with me. It was the first time I ever got into the Holiday spirit. 

Talladega Nights was the first movie that introduced me to comedy. I watched this movie for the first time when I was 10 years old. Talladega Nights was released in 2006 and was directed by Adam Mckay. The movie was written by director, Adam Mckay, and star actor, Will Farrell. IMdb states that the movie had a worldwide gross of $163 million. This movie is significant to me because I remember watching it on every road trip to New Jersey with my family. The movie made my whole family laugh no matter how many times we watched it together and I loved how light hearted the room always felt when the film was on.             

Hannah Montana the movie was released in 2009, but I didn't actually watch it until I was 14 years old. The director of the film was Peter Chelsom,  the writers of the film included Dan Berendsen, Michael Poryes, Richard Corell, and the main star of the movie was Miley Cyrus. I truly believe that watching this movie is what made me realize that I love singing. I always knew that I enjoyed singing but I realized just how passionate I was about it. My mom told me that after watching the movie for the first time, I would hold a microphone and sing Miley Cyrus songs in the mirror. I also have vivid memories of blasting the song “See You Again” and pretending I was a superstar. 

Big Daddy is an older movie but I didn’t watch it until I was a senior in highschool.​​ This movie really stuck with me because of the emotions that I felt while watching it. I loved that the movie was funny, sad, happy, and warm all at once. Adam Sandler was phenomenal in this film and I liked seeing more emotion from him compared to some of his other movies. When I watched this movie it made me really appreciate my parents and the love that they have for me.    ​​

I asked my Mom to write a list of movies that I loved as I was growing up as well as memories that went with them, and the movies that she chose were: The Santa Clause, Change of Habit , and The Hannah Montana movie. She said that The Santa Clause movie always put me in the Christmas spirit when the family would watch it together. When she thinks of this movie she thinks of when I used to put on a giant santa coat and dance around the kitchen listening to Christmas music. The movie called Change of Habit was my Mom’s favorite movie when she was a kid due to her love for Elvis. She chose this movie because her and I watched it together when I was little and I ended up adoring the film. She said that this movie reminds her of when I would pretend to talk like Elvis and her and I would sing Elvis songs at the top of our lungs, and that it made her realize just how similar we were. My mom chose the Hannah Monatna movie for the same reason that I did. After watching that movie, she said my love for singing took off. She still has videos of me performing Hannah Montana songs in front of the mirror.

[vecnasrevengerp]

welcome home KATHERINE O’HANNON (laura harrier fc)

hope you brought your tissues with you! be sure to check in at home or to your hotel and don’t forget to always look over your shoulder. this is hawkins, after all.

basics

[LAURA HARRIER, CIS FEMALE, SHE/HER] When’s the last time anyone heard anything about [KATHERINE O’HANNON]? Old friends remember them as [COMPASSIONATE and INTELLIGENT] but also [NAIVE and SELF-CONSCIOUS], no wonder they’re still known as [THE BIBLIOPHILE] around town. Today, in 2006, they are [THIRTY-TWO] and some people say they remind them of [THE SMELL OF BOOKS AND VANILLA, GLASS PERCHED ON THE END OF HER NOSE, CRYING WATCHING LATE NIGHT ROMANCE FILMS]. [cait, twenty-seven, she/her, est].

biography

Katherine O’Hannon wasn’t extremely popular around Hawkins. In fact, most people had to think about who she was to begin with.. then they’d say something along the lines of ‘Oh, Grace’s daughter’ or ‘The quiet girl from the library?’. Katherine didn’t mind it this way. Her mother was a teacher at Hawkins Middle and her father lived a few cities away. The most she had seen of him was the child support check that came in the mail once a month. Her mother was extremely busy.. while she taught at the school full time she also worked part time at the library to keep up with the bills. The rest of her time was spent with whoever she met at her Speed Dating events or the local bar. The men were always far from perfect. Katherine did her best to just stay out the way. Books taking her places far away from her lonely life in Hawkins, Indiana. Picturing herself as these women in the novels. Brave, powerful women using their voices…. something Katherine was certain she could never be.

School was never hard for her. She was extremely intelligent and got by easily. There was never an issue with bullying because they simply didn’t realize she existed. Katherine was probably a ghost just getting by without anyone noticing. Spending her lunch period alone at a corner table reading, writing, or watching as the other students mingled with their friends. She sat and listened. While she was not directly involved in anything she heard everything. The good thing about being invisible is no one knows you’re there. People spilling their guts right in front of her and not even realizing she was there. The stories she had heard were interesting enough for her to write down… inspire her story telling. Inspire plots in the never ending novel she seemed to be working on.

It wasn’t until later in life she felt like she had actually been noticed. Dustin Henderson wasn’t shy by any means.. and seeing as he frequented the library often he was probably the only person in the town who actually knew her name. But, there wasn’t a friendship built until they were older. Katherine and Dustin seemed to have a natural spark. A friendship quickly blossomed into more and soon they were married. It was a whirlwind she not only became a wife but a stepmother all in a matter of months. But, the kids were precious and everything to her. Katherine knew that there was no filling the shoes of the mother they had lost but that there could only be love and understanding. She grew so fond of them all. Becoming a mother was never something she saw for herself… it wasn’t that she didn’t want to but it just didn’t seem possible for a girl who no one looked at. They were comfortable. She worked and took care of the two children during the day while he made his inventions. It was simple and worked well… maybe too well. Her husband clearly had a lot of time on his hands. Not that he wasn’t paying her attention but he did spend a lot of time in the shed.

Katherine felt as though something was up when he had gone on a trip. It wasn’t that she was exactly snooping but when she found out he had been communicating with an old flame it sent off a red flag and she began to gather evidence. Katherine was kind and compassionate… and loved Dustin. But, she was hurt. She has built their relationship on the foundation that she would not end up like her mother. Sad, alone, and letting a man cheat on her. When confronting him and finding out her suspicion was true that he visited Susie and he has an affair she immediately began to pack her things. But, the children.. she had grown to love them so much more. She couldn’t lose them. They were like her own. The three of them were all practically attached at the hip by now… and they needed a mother. So, an agreement was drawn up that there would be fifty-fifty custody between her and Dustin. It was all she asked for in their divorce because they meant so much to her.

It hurt for a while and at times her heart still skips a beat when they meet up for different events or to drop off the kids during the week. But, she pushes it down.. he hurt her deeply. She couldn’t trust him like she had before. He had broken that bond they built by seeing someone else. So Katherine ignores those feelings and focuses on her writing… and since that hasn’t taken off she works full time as a librarian. With the news of Joyce Beyer’s death she knew that she would have to keep the kids a little more if not only give Dustin time to grieve the lost of his childhood friend’s mother.

As an aside, please let us know what your character left behind in the Hawkins High Time Capsule between 1983 (Season 1) - 1986 (Season 4). We’d simply love to know! Please do so even if your character was not canonically in Hawkins or attending Hawkins High during this timeframe.

1983 - A copy of Pride and Prejudice and her favorite writing pen. 1984 - A pair of beat up converse she wore almost everyday to school.1985 - A polaroid of her mother’s classroom. 1986 - A copy of her story she has written that was inspired by some of the rumors she had heard at lunch throughout middle and high school.

stats

Athletics - 1

Burglary - 0

Contacts - 1

Deceive - 2

Drive - -1

Empathy - 3

Fight - -1

Investigate - 3

Lore - 3

Medicine - 1

Navigation - 0

Notice - 3

Provoke - -3

Rapport - 1

Resourcefulness - 1

Stealth - 2

Will - 3

extras

pinterest board. playlist.

[viranlly]

7 Hours in Etihad’s First Class Suite

Let me just say right off the bat, it's not long enough.

And also, by no mean this is a review — because honestly, this flight is spectacular and I’m really not gonna get into the nitty-gritty, technical stuff (you can totally google that at your leisure).

After a whirlwind of a 10-hour, martini-filled, water-deprived stopover in London (more on that later), it’s finally time to hop into the flight that I’ve been watching over-and-over-and-over again on YouTube: the Etihad first class suite, with service to Abu Dhabi, on a Boeing 787-9.

I knew this flight was gonna be great. It’s so great it totally ruins flying (any other way) for me. 

The second I stepped on the plane and the flight attendant got a glance of my seat number, *ahem* 1A, you could see almost a mini panic as she was trying to find the first class FA to take me to my personal suite. Yes, not a pod, not a seat — a suite. Bed, dining table for two and closet space included. 

Trying not to lose my mind next to the couple who’s clearly done this before, I calmly sat down to make sure everything was okay (as if anything would go wrong). Noise cancelling earphones, check. Entertainment centre. check. Mini bar, stocked. Acqua di Parma amenity kit and faux fur throw, check, check, check. I took a decent amount of content yet I forgot to take a photo of the actual suite without me in it — amateur. I guess I’ll have to remind myself, for next time.

"This smells, tastes, and feels rich" I said to myself as I sipped the 2006 Charles Heidsieck Brut (bless pre-departure champagne) that's served alongside Arabic coffee, dates, and cold towel. I was fully living the Sex and The City 2 Movie fantasy, with less marital issues and no sheikh paying for the trip. As they're boarding the rest of the plebs plane, my assigned flight attendant went through a laundry list of preferences for the rest of the flight: dinner service, wine pairing, water (still or sparkling), level of privacy, and more importantly what champagne would I like for right after take-off — The answer, was rosé, by the way. 

She then dropped off a bag of loungewear for me to change to if I prefer, which, I absolutely needed to, since I was wearing a very London-specific Thom Browne tartan suit to dress the part with not enough room to handle every menu items we're about to devour. 

I was utterly torn, between drinking as much 2002 vintage champagne until I’m unconscious in this suite or catching up on sleep as we had a 17 hour layover in Abu Dhabi awaited us. 

As I continued to ponder, the plane took off. Never in my life I witnessed a  take off this smooth, this quite— it’s almost like the engines just whisper “let’s go girls” oh so subtly. And not three minutes after, a glistening, freshly popped, frosty bottle of Champagne Duval-Leroy Rosé Prestige showed up at my door. And this, marked the beginning of the most incredible three-hour dining experience in the sky.

A change of clothes, fresh towel, and a switch to Duval-Leroy Femme de Champagne 2002 later, the caviar service begins — A proper caviar service. With blinis en accompagnement, and of course, the mother of pearl spoon that I almost smuggled into my amenity kit. 

“Would you like some more champagne”, she asked, fully knowing we finished half a bottle within the first 15 mins of dinner. I mean, what kind of monster would say no? By the time the lobster course arrived, we’re one bottle in, and flying has never felt better. We managed to go through most to the wine list (pictured below) and honestly, this list slaps. Hard. Hard enough to piss off some somm friends. 

The Jacques Prieur was stunning, oh-so-fragrant and crisp, with balanced salinity to finish. The Pascal Jolivet was delightfully expressive with lovely, lingering mouthfeel. By the time we wanted to taste the riesling, the palate cleanser arrived, followed by the main course shortly. Yes, there’s a palate cleanser course.

Cooking tenderloin to a perfect medium rare is as hard as it is for some restaurants with fully equipped kitchen. Somehow, Etihad nails it, 30,000ft in the air — now that’s impressive. Whatever magic compartment they have in their galley, it works. For the wine, I managed to tasted all the reds and well, big surprise (not really), the Cabernet plays so elegantly with this perfectly cooked piece of meat. 

The stretchy pyjama pants were barely holding it anymore but I still had to save some room for dessert — creme brûlée with a side of Haagen Dasz ice cream, which I washed down with another glass of the ’02 Femme de Champagne. 

*Knock knock* “Would you like me to make the bed for you?” - a sentence I don’t hear enough on the ground, let alone in the sky. Honestly, It’s even more special when it’s asked on an Acqua di Parma-scented cabin. As she’s getting my bed ready, we took a little stroll around the plane to see where the rest of the people lived, and you know, stretched… I returned to a fully made bed with a side of crippling anxiety, knowing that for the rest of our journey, there’s no first class cabin on the planes — scary, I know (Kidding, Etihad’s business cabins aren’t so bad). Nothing another glass of champagne couldn’t fix at this point. So I ordered bed-side champagne to calm me down. *closed doors*

I went to bed, half-drunk, fully stuffed and extremely exhausted. The 3-hr nap I had was clearly not enough to prepare me for what’s waiting for us on the other side. But frankly, that was a very comfortable nap. The flight attendant gently nudge me to notify that it’s time for breakfast. I woke up still drunk, still full, with 90-something minute left on this flight. I couldn’t possibly eat another bite. What was supposed to be an omelette and caviar breakfast, turned into a coffee and champagne kind.

Never thought hearing “thirty minutes to landing” could make someone feel so sad, but there I was, back in my suit, sipping the last of the ’02 Femme de Champagne, not ready to leave the flight.

Thank you Etihad for the most incredible 7 hours in the sky, Michelin-star-worthy (I said what I said) dinner experience, and if you’re reading this, I’m ready for another trip on the first class suite, and hopefully on the A380 next time. 

See you in Abu Dhabi!

[nopefun]

Interview #495: Quince Pan

q: Give a short introduction of yourself: a: I am Quince Pan, a documentary photographer born in 2000, currently based in Singapore. I am now waiting to enter university to study Philosophy, Politics and Economics.

q: What is your series "JBM" about? What was the process of making the series? a: “JBM”, my family’s abbreviation of “Jalan Bukit Merah”, is a documentary photo project centred on my maternal grandmother, Lau Giok Niu, her cultural heritage and her HDB flat where I spent my childhood under her care. It is my first exhibited series and also my first serious long-term documentary project.

In 2015, I followed my grandmother to visit her hometown in Fengwei, Quangang District, Quanzhou City, Fujian, China. Bringing my camera along on the trip, I noticed that instead of shooting purely for fun or beauty, I would include certain objects (for example, a calendar on the wall) in my frames because they had historical significance. I submitted those Fengwei photos as my portfolio for the 2016 Noise Art Mentorship (Photography and Moving Images). I got selected, and my mentor, Jean Qingwen Loo, urged me to pursue a project which I could speak authentically about. Through her criticism, I learnt to further prioritise meaning over style. My grandmother and my childhood were topics close to my heart, especially as she cared for me during my childhood and gave me the gift of the 头�� Thâu-pak dialect, a unique variant of Hokkien from the Quangang District. Eventually, “JBM” was born as my mentorship capstone, and was exhibited at the “Between Home and Home” Noise Art Mentorship Showcase at Objectifs in 2017. I haven’t stopped shooting; that’s why it’s an ongoing long-term project!

“JBM” contains a range of visual styles, ranging from photojournalistic fly-on-the-wall documentations of heated family discussions and visits by distant relatives from China to more tender images of sunlight at the void deck where my late grandfather’s wake was held in 2006. Rituals and festivities are anthropologically significant, so I pay particular attention to Chinese New Year, the Qing Ming Festival and the Winter Solstice, which my family celebrates. I also look at how other photographers document their families: Bob Lee, Nicky Loh, Bernice Wong, Brian Teo and Nancy Borowick.

More broadly, “JBM'' extends beyond photography and is a family history project. Since 2013, I have been researching the Quangang district, 头北 Thâu-pak dialect and my grandmother’s clan. I discovered that other descendants from her clan established an ancestral temple in Singapore, which initially stood on Craig Road but is now housed in a flat in Telok Blangah. I already did some fieldwork, interviews and preliminary documentation, which led to an article I published in April 2021 in Daojia: Revista Eletrônica de Taoismo e Cultura Chinesa. Maybe I will explore this in greater depth in future photo projects!

q: How did you get into photography? a: When I was around seven years old, I loved to play with my father’s Fujifilm compact. As a young student, I hadn’t heard of terms such as “light painting”, “Dutch angle” and “rule of thirds”, but those were the techniques I subconsciously used in my photographs. 

I entered the Noise Art Mentorship, as previously mentioned. During the school holidays, I worked as a media intern at Logue and as an assistant at Objectifs for the “Passing Time” exhibition and book by Lui Hock Seng. Through these work experiences, I learnt so much from Jean Loo, Yang Huiwen, Ryan Chua, Lim Mingrui and Chris Yap: news angles, editorial writing, scanning and touching up negatives and slides, colour management for print, liaising with clients and issuing invoices, among other skills. As part of the Noise Art Mentorship, I was given a copy of “+50” by the PLATFORM collective, which opened my eyes to diverse approaches within the documentary genre. I started to regularly attend talks at Objectifs and DECK, where I got to know people in the local photography scene, particularly in the documentary tradition.

q: You also do videography. How do you see it in relation to your photography? a: Videography requires a different way of seeing and thinking compared to photography, because video has additional temporal and auditory dimensions. With photography, I don’t have to think about how long I want a scene to be, what foley and B-roll I want to overlay, or have a storyboard in my head before heading out to shoot. In that sense, photography is more reactive to and receptive of situational contingencies because it requires less pre-planning. 

Also, photography can be a solitary endeavour, but it is quite difficult to make films alone, and the schoolmates I used to make films with have since embarked on separate paths in life. However, photography and videography share the same basics as visual media: composition and sequencing.

Fundamentally, I see myself as a documentarian, and this applies to any medium I work in, be it photography or videography, or even writing. The end goal is to record and share history by telling stories from lesser-known perspectives. Thus, the topics of my video projects are similar to the topics of my photo projects; sometimes I do both side by side! The films I made were all documentary shorts of places which do not exist anymore, such as the Hup Lee coffee shop at 114 Jalan Besar and the old Sembawang Hot Spring before NParks took over the site from MINDEF and redeveloped it. 

Currently, I am working as a videographer for Sing Lit Station’s poetry.sg archive. Thankfully, this job can be done solo!

q: What or who is inspiring you right now? a: Bob Lee, for being an amazing father and spreading hope and joy to others through his images. Alex and Rebecca Webb, for pairing literature with photography. Tom Brenner, for approaching photojournalism like street photography. Sim Chi Yin, for her international achievements and being both an academic and a practitioner. Brian Teo, for being an eminent contemporary. Last but not least, Kevin WY Lee’s advice, “CPR: Craft, Point, Rigour”, which I try to benchmark my work against.

q: Upcoming projects or ideas? a: Nothing concrete on my mind so far. I am just going to see where life takes me and what topics life makes me want to explore or talk about.

q: Any music to recommend? a: First and foremost, my fight song: “倔强 Stubborn” by Mayday. A close second, Queen’s 1986 “Under Pressure” live performance at Wembley is a transformative experience. The catchy “他夏了夏天 He Summered Summer” by Sodagreen brings out the grandeur in the mundane. “Silhouette” by KANA-BOON and “Everybody’s Changing” by Keane remind me of the fragility of life and time. I also like The Fray, Kings of Leon, Last Dinosaurs, Stephanie Sun, Tanya Chua, and the Taiwanese indie band DSPS.

his website.

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[thevindicativevordan]

On Livewire

You know Leslie is probably the most popular and well known female Superman Rogue mainly because they use her so heavily in outside media.

Which makes sense given her debut in Superman: The Animated Series, but it still kind of fascinates me. They didn't bring her into comics continuity until 2006 apparently, with Gail Simone and John Byrne (Byrne of all the creators!) being the ones to finally fold her in. Even after they brought her in, they still have never given her that much attention or focus which is a disappointment for me frankly, because Livewire is honestly fantastic in Scott McCloud and later Mark Millar's Superman Adventures runs, and I would say with complete sincerity that those two are probably her best writers. "Millar writing a female character well?" you scoff at in disbelief. I know, I was shocked too! But she's funny, clever, and a huge pain in the ass for Supes. Reading how she was used there, and rewatching her STAS incarnation recently, really made a big realization for the character hit me like a lightning bolt (couldn't resist):

She's basically an evil superpowered Lois Lane! I know I can't have been the first one to realize that, although I haven't seen anyone else actually outright state it anywhere, but c'mon it's so obvious! She's a reporter of a sorts as well thanks to being a disc jockey, her debut in STAS even has her interviewing Lois and Clark! She's got strong opinions on Superman that conflict with the general opinion about him (Lois being pro-Superman when everyone else is more hostile towards him at first, Livewire being anti-Superman when everyone else has embraced him as their hero). She's rude and abrasive, and doesn't care if her opinions offend people, which sure does remind me of Lois at her meanest.

Livewire to me is an examination of what Lois would be like if she abandoned her morals or never really had them in the first place. Leslie doesn't care about the "truth" which is the big difference between her and Lois. Lois can be headstrong, willful, and outright rude, but it's all in service of her pursuit of higher ideals. Livewire doesn't care about that, she carries about getting people to pay attention to her, and getting the recognition and wealth she believes she's owed.

What I'd Do With Livewire

It wasn't until I had that big realization about Leslie that I figured out what role she should play with regards to Clark: She should be Clark's old college ex who was the one who got him into journalism in the first place.

Clark's college years are unexplored territory narratively, typically we jump from his childhood in Smallville right into his debut in Metropolis. Now I know Clark dated Lori that mermaid back in Pre-Crisis during his college years, and while that's a fun bit of trivia, it doesn't really add anything meaningful in the same way that I think Leslie and Clark dating could. So I'd rather go with Leslie because I think she makes for a better foil for Clark and because the two of them would benefit from having a deeper connection established, plus Leslie could get fleshed out as a character more.

I like the explanation that Clark chose journalism in part because it challenges him in ways his powers can't, but in the comics they've rarely bothered to explain how he chose that field in the first place. I would have meeting Leslie at college be that big moment where he starts to figure himself out. She's assertive and confident, and Clark is attracted to that for similar reasons he's attracted to Lois. Leslie would start out as an optimist and idealist in the same way Clark is, and the two would bond and go into journalism together, with Leslie being the one who really believes in the field initially. They'd both be big believers in the duty of the press to inform and the presses ability to shape public opinion, with Clark attracted to investigative journalism and Leslie attracted more to broadcast and digital journalism. They start to date and for a moment, Clark seriously wonders if this is the one.

The big break between them comes when Clark and Leslie go on a trip around the world during their senior year of college. That trip would be where both of them learn how crappy the world is. Clark always had some idea of how bad things were because of his powers, but the trip is where he really starts to realize that there is a real need for someone of his powers to step up, and that there are hard limits to just how much he can accomplish as a member of the press. That same realization is what shatters Leslie's idealism and optimism. She loses faith in the ability to make a difference, to punch through the wall of public indifference, and as a result she gives up that dream. Instead she decides that if you can't beat them, join them: she switches instead to telling the masses what the powers that be want them to hear in exchange for money, to saying whatever the masses will give her attention and prestige for, embracing tabloid journalism that prioritizes clicks and engagement over information. Ultimately it destroys the relationship between Leslie and Clark with her viewing him as a sap and him viewing her as a sellout.

I think that origin really would help flesh out her worldview and motivation a lot more. She's a former idealist who has been broken by the world in a similar way to Poison Ivy. Leslie thus acts as a foil to Clark and Lois in that she's someone who let the world rob her of her idealism and sold out on the truth in exchange for material success. She's what Clark or Lois could've been if they took Lex's offer to work for him, and they should recognize that to some degree. Clark should have conflicting feelings for her, not romantically that relationship is dead, but in terms of sometimes he wonders if he's just wasting his life trying to fight for truth and justice. So few people seem to care about those principles, why hold on so tight to them? Why not just look out for his own self-interest the way everyone else seems to? It's the refusal to give up even when it looks pointless that makes the two of them different, and makes Clark a hero and Livewire a villain.

How I'd Like Livewire To Operate

There's a lack of imagination in how Livewire is used on the comic side as I see it.

Like most Superman Rogues the typical Superman writer doesn't seem to have a clue what to do with her beyond generic "villain" stuff, but that does a disservice to what Livewire brings to the table. Livewire does want to fry Superman to a crisp, but that's not what her daily goal is to accomplish. More importantly, she wants respect and she wants money, and the way she gets both is not by trying to rob banks, it's by leaning into her background as a media personality combined with her new powers. Unleashing electric bolts is honestly the least impressive part of her powerset in terms of her ability to manipulate anything and everything technology.

The Internet? Livewire can crash the entire thing with ease, or restrict access to portions of it. She can do the reverse and smash through firewalls and encryption like it's made of paper. Imagine Livewire shutting off the power grid or causing it to explode, secretly using your "smart" tech to record your every move, uploading ransomware to every piece of technology in Metropolis, emptying the bank accounts of anyone who annoys her, or bringing Metropolis to it's knees thanks to the "City of Tomorrow" being a test ground for the Internet of Things, so everything is connected and thus easily manipulated. Smart cars crash into each other, elevators randomly drop, trains are unable to stop and simply accelerate onward unceasingly, plans attempting to land find their instruments on the fritz, anything and everything is Livewire's to control. But terrorism, while entertaining and occasionally profitable, isn't Livewire's main focus either.

One of my favorite Superman Adventures stories with her had Livewire manipulating TV broadcast signals so that any time there was a male news reporter on screen, the signal wouldn't come through. Stuff like that, where Livewire is making life hell for people in a way that isn't immediately life-threatening is what I envision as her day to day operations, but her bread and butter is fake news. What Livewire is REALLY good at doing is manipulating the public due to her journalism background plus her powers. She can make fake videos that look totally authentic, fake articles that seem to come from credible sources, fake voice recordings, she can make anyone appear to do or say anything through the Internet, and then she can upload that to the devices of every single person in Metropolis.

You can get stories about the mayor being framed for taking bribes, local activists cast as grifters, and supposed upstanding citizens such as Lois Lane and Clark Kent appearing to take orders from criminals like Intergang on what stories to run. Basically you lean into the journalism aspect for Livewire stories where Clark and Lois have to investigate to see whether what Livewire is putting out there is fake or legit, with peoples lives and reputations at stake (including frequently their own).

And when Superman and Livewire actually do clash physically? I don't care how it gets justified, Livewire simply being that powerful, her lightning being "special", she has the ability to manipulate Superman's bioelectric field, whatever: she can hurt him. When she hits Supes with lightning, it burns. It's painful as all hell. Livewire needs to be a threat and I'd like her to be treated as a powerhouse since I don't see a reason why that shouldn't be the case. Livewire is a really cool Rogue, there's a reason she's managed to keep getting used long after the DCAU ended. I hope the comics creators start utilizing her to her full potential.

[beautifulcinephile]

10 Songs To Know Me Better

I've made this tag myself in the past, but I decided to update it because I don't listen to some of the songs included in there. The rules are: List 10 songs and how you got into them. 1. Orinoco Flow - Enya: When I was a kid, I used to have ballet classes and my ballet teacher had an Enya CD with this song. I was always hypnotized by this song, then one day I asked my teacher what was its name and who sang it. She told me it was Enya, but didn't tell me the name of the song. One day, when I was at my dad's house, my sister found it, and we both listened to it together. I smiled gleefully and to this day, I cherish this song a lot.

2. Stop Crying Your Heart Out - Another one from my childhood. Back then, my sister had a VHS tape with music videos she recorded from MTV and this was one of them. As a kid, I loved the music video, even though I was too young to understand it and when I understood it, years later, my heart felt crushed because I realized the protagonist died. But if I see someone striking a match, or even myself striking a match, I will automatically get reminded of the music video.

3. Whenever, Wherever - Shakira: OH, GOSH, THIS ONE! I think it's time for me to finally reveal the reason why I like this song. When I was a kid, for some reason, I started having recurring dreams that I was watching the music video, right at the beginning when Shakira comes out of the water and kneels on that rock. I downloaded the music video (It took days because, keep in mind, it was 2006, the Internet was slower back then and a download of a music video took days and not seconds as it is today), watched it, thought it was awesome at the time, now I know that it has aged kinda badly. I still love it, though.

Then, I started doing AI arts of Timothée Chalamet reenacting the music video because I thought: "Why not? He's in the desert, shirtless, barefoot, I need this. There are no barefoot pictures of him at the moment, so why not make ones?" And the song ended up helping me during one of the most stressful moments of 2022. I even have some memories of the real Timmy (to differentiate him from the AI-generated version of him) with this song involved, which are when I watched him at LFF and the "Bones and All" premiere in Milan.

4. The Safety Dance - Men Without Hats: I think I've never talked about this song before, it's one of my favorites. Well, I listened to this song in 2015, and my crush on Mark Hamill came back in full force because of "Star Wars: The Force Awakens" and there was a video of him in which this song played. It comforted me during a dark time in my life, which was ending. Listening to this song makes me feel like a 17 year-old which was coming out of a dark place to one of happiness again.

5. Like a Rolling Stone - Bob Dylan: Compared to the others, this song is quite recent and I feel it represents my early 20s quite well. I started listening to it in late 2020, but it was in 2021 that this song came into my life. I was going through another dark moment in my life, luckily this one only lasted for a month as far as I remember. Bob Dylan's songs helped me through this moment, and "Like a Rolling Stone" was the song of his that I was really hooked into.

I remember one day that I was searching for an apartment because I was still in the process of moving, and this was the song that I was listening to the most during that day. Despite its dark lyrics, this song for some reason gives me a feeling of comfort, the same goes for "Positively 4th Street".

6. Shape of My Heart - Backstreet Boys: If I told you that I used to hate this song, would you believe it? Yes, I used to hate this song in my childhood, but somehow I kinda liked the music video. It was only when I was 15 years old that I took a liking to this song and the music video, I remember listening to this song on road trips.

But I only started loving this song after I had a dream that Timothée Chalamet and I were recreating the music video, more precisely, at the 2:43 mark of the song. I was wearing a gray shirt and blue denim, Timmy wore a black tank top and black pants, and he was barefoot, and during this part, I stroked his hair while the camera panned down on his bare feet (A dream in which I would never like to wake up from. A barefoot Timothée Chalamet with a blue tint, clad in black? IT WAS MY AWESOMEST DREAM EVER!) and everytime I listen to this song, I remember the dream and there's even fanfiction inspired by it (Thank you, @timottea!)

7. Safari Song - Greta Van Fleet: February 2019 marked when I listened to this song for the first time. This is the song that made me a Greta Van Fleet fan. I remember the countless times when I walked through college listening to that song while going to my classroom, or just hanging out during break time, or when I was ready to go home after classes. Nowadays I don't listen to Greta Van Fleet that much like I used to, but this song will always have a special place in my heart.

8. Paul's Dream - Hans Zimmer: I don't remember when I listened to this song for the first time, but I do remember lots of good moments with it, such as listening to it on my dad's car, so I could feel the bass kicking in and I closed my eyes in utter joy while listening to this song. And when my dad and I went to watch "Dune" in the theaters, we sang this song because we were completely in awe with the movie. I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS SONG.

9. Commuter Love - The Divine Comedy: I’ve only heard about this band because Neil Hannon will compose the songs for "Wonka" and I wanted to have a glimpse of what the soundtrack would sound like. When I listened to this song, I was immediately transported to a black-and-white music video set on a subway which is all about that person we see on the subway, have a slight crush on, and then we never see this person again (I had this experience, so I know how it is) and I consider this song to be one of the best of theirs.

10. Visions of Gideon - Sufjan Stevens: Well, I really love this song. It obviously reminds me of "Call Me By Your Name" and I remember that I was listening to it during a stormy night (Not rainy night. Stormy night. There were lightning bolts everywhere.) Initially I was scared, but I was listening to that song and thinking about Timmy, so I comforted myself and went home safely.

Tagging: @softhecreator @cocoamoonmalfoy @whole-other-layer

[pochiperpe90]

[L’Officiel Hommes] Luca Marinelli, rising star of Italian cinema

To win his first film role, Luca Marinelli agreed to put on sixteen kilos. For the second, he had to shave his whole body and learn to walk in heels more than eight inches high.

"If I believe in the part, there is nothing I'm not willing to do," says the twenty-six-year-old protagonist of ‘The Solitude of Prime Numbers’, the film by Saverio Costanzo presented at last year's edition of the Venice Film Festival.

To play the role of a boy devoured by guilt due to an accident that happened to his sister, Marinelli did not hesitate to ruin his athletic physique by gorging himself on fats and carbohydrates, and giving up any activity for three months. As soon as he could, he started running again to lose the extra pounds. Between football and swimming he has always been used to playing sports. But the forced immobility had atrophied his muscles, and at the end of the first runs he ended up vomiting his soul from the effort. After a month of intense exercise, however, he had already lost the extra pounds.

"Changing your body makes you feel more vulnerable and you become prey to irrational fears: when I was fat I was afraid of dying every time I took the stairs, when I was hairless I was afraid that my eyebrows would never grow back," says the actor while he eats a salad sitting at the bar of the Palazzo della Triennale in Milan. "But it's always a very interesting experience", he continues, absently stroking the hairs on his forearm, still growing since the end of the shooting of “L’ultimo terrestre”, a film that will be released next year by Gipi, an Italian illustrator making his debut behind the movie camera. It’s a love story set against the backdrop of an invasion of extraterrestrials, in which Marinelli plays the role of a transvestite friend of the protagonist. To prepare for the part, the actor watched dozens of crossdresser and transgender footage and had to practice for hours walking with extravagant stilts instead of shoes.

“I was told that, as a woman, I move well and I'm quite beautiful. In short, the experience gave me a certain satisfaction”, he jokes, winking with gray-blue eyes.

Compared to the film debut of ‘Solitude of Prime Numbers’, this new film offers him a smaller role and visibility. But Marinelli is not concerned about this. He knows he was very lucky to end on the red carpet of one of the most important festivals in the world with the first film. And he would almost feel calmer if his career were to continue more gradually.

"It was so lightning fast that I was not prepared. Venice was a wonderful experience but I was in panic. In the evening I came home with a terrible headache, I felt like I had two tight screws in my skull. I almost felt at fault to start out so great. And now I'm happy to start again slowly”.

Marinelli finished high school in 2006 and three years later graduated from the Silvio D'Amico Academy of Dramatic Art in Rome. Before being chosen by Costanzo for the feature film that gave him notoriety with the public, he had already played several roles in the theater with directors such as Carlo Cecchi and Michele Monetta. His father, actor and film voice actor, tried to introduce him to the world of entertainment as a child, without achieving great results. He had made him voice the voices of Tip and Tap, the grandchildren of Mickey Mouse from the cartoons, and had offered him some amateur roles. Despite being fascinated by the profession, however, the son didn’t feel cut out to be an actor.

“As a child I was shy. I liked being the center of attention, but only with people I had a lot of confidence with. More than being observed, I was interested in observing the lives of others. Not the present ones, but the past ones”.

After high school, Marinelli enrolled in the faculty of archeology in Rome. But after two months in which he attended only lessons that had nothing to do with his course, he realized that the university wasn’t for him and threw himself into acting, overcoming the fears he carried within him since he was a child. Even today, however, it retains some of that shyness. To the point that, whenever he is about to go on stage, he has to resort to small exorcising rites to reduce tension and cancel thoughts. And when we ask him how it feels to tell a complete stranger about himself, he confesses to being a little nervous.

"This is my second interview. From the first, I came out as some kind of psycho. I hope this time it goes better”, he jokes.

He has pain in his neck from a fall that occurred a few days earlier and moves his torso in a slightly stiffly way. He jumped on the ball and crashed to the ground during a game of "calciotto", the eight-a-side football that is popular in Rome, the city where he was born and raised. Every time he turns his head he makes a grimace of pain. Apart from that, Marinelli seems to be quite at ease, and does not resort to clichés. Nor does he try to hide behind sophisticated characters: he wears a blue shirt, military green trousers and brown jacket, in a style that he simply defines "for men", made up of garments unearthed among vintage shops and thrift stalls rather than in the boutiques of the big names. He loves to run around with his bike, although he admits that the longest trip he has done was from Rome to Fregene with a friend. And as soon as he has a free moment he takes his dog Nonò, a foundling dachshund who also follows him on tour, and takes him around the capital for long walks in the company of Sandy, the dog who lives in his parents' house.

Even though he’s aware of the difficulties and uncertainties he risks facing in his profession, he speaks of his dreams with passion and without anguish. He would like to pursue a project as a director and is enthusiastic about the collaboration with Cecchi in “Sogno di una notte di mezza estate”, a piece with which he will tour Italy between November and February.

"I know that being an actor is a job with a very high risk of failure and depression, but for the moment I try to live this lucky moment to the fullest."

Marinelli is not religious, but he’s particularly fascinated by the figure of Christ. He loves reading books and watching films that tell the Nazarene in his human dimension (from the Gospel according to Matthew by Pasolini to Scorsese's Last Temptation of Christ), because when he sees a miracle he feels the "smell of burning" and is immediately distracted.

"The story of Jesus, understood as a simple person, is a proof of the wonderful things that man is capable of. And studying it helps to understand how far we live from the example that has been given to us".

Among the dreams in the drawer, remains to work with Eimuntas Nekrošius, the Lithuanian theater director who recently staged Albert Camus' Caligula in Rome. And with Pedro Almodovar, the master of Spanish cinema whose language he knows well. In fact, Marinelli's father spent his childhood in Argentina and passed on to his son his love for Spanish, which Luca speaks with a slight South American inflection.

Of course, the situation in Italy for novice actors is not reassuring. Most of his fellow academics are still looking for work. The lucky ones earn a few euros by acting in the theater or making fiction which is exhausting for the body and demoralizing for the spirit. The others are making a living with alternative uses waiting to be discovered.

“I'm working, but not because I'm the best of those who came out of my class. Luck matters a lot. In Italy the environment is closed and there is little money. Abroad, however, it seems that this art is much more accessible".

His response is interrupted by a strange sigh that sounds like a whale song. It’s the ringtone of his cell phone, a reconstruction of the original music used in the Greek tragedy. Marinelli doesn’t respond, but begins to show signs of unease. He noted that the Palazzo della Triennale hosts an exhibition of Pasolini's portraits that he would like to see. He has little time left, but he adores the poet and insists on entering.

Inside the exhibition, observe the black and white photos taken by Dino Pedriali in 1975 which show the artist reading in his villa in Chia, writing on an Olivetti 22 and walking on a bridge in Sabaudia with his hair down from the wind. Then he stops in front of a photo of Pasolini naked, portrayed in his bedroom.

"What a fascinating man, in this image he reminds me of the bad lieutenant in Abel Ferrara's film," he says as he heads towards the exit. Then, unexpectedly, he turns to his interviewer and asks him with the relieved tone of someone who knows he has completed a business: "Prof, how did the exam go?".

“I'd give you a nice twenty-eight”, we reply according to the game.

"Okay, I accept it".

L’Officiel Hommes

Just wanted to translate this old interview for the non-italian’s fans ^^ (sorry for my English)  

[vecnasrevengerp]

welcome home STEVE HARRINGTON (theo james fc)

hope you brought your tissues with you! be sure to check in at home or to your hotel and don’t forget to always look over your shoulder. this is hawkins, after all.

basics

[THEO JAMES, CIS MALE, HE/HIM] When’s the last time anyone heard anything about [STEVE HARRINGTON]? Old friends remember them as [PROTECTIVE & COURAGEOUS] but also [SELF-OBSESSED & JEALOUS], no wonder they’re still known as [THE FALLEN KING] around town. Today, in 2006, they are [FORTY] and some people say they remind them of [GREASE STAINS ON SHIRTS, CHARMING SMILE, BABY BOTTLES SPREAD OUT THROUGH THE HOUSE, BLANK STARES, CAR MAGAZINES ON THE FLOOR ]. [pep, 22, he/him, gmt].

biography

the fight was over, vecna was defeated, and consequently, so were will and el. at first, steve was relieved that they had won and gotten rid of the upside down once and for all… but quickly came the guilt of being responsible for the kids. steve had always entitled himself (or had been given the title of) as the babysitter of the group. at first, he saw it as a nuisance, but he was quick to realize that he cared for those kids. to lose two of them like that, made steve feel like he had been responsible for all of it. he wasn’t even sure how he was going to look joyce and jonathan in the eye, let alone hopper.

after 1986, things could have gone up for steve… but they didn’t. steve was still working his old job at the family video when he decided that he should do something with his life and go to trade school. it wasn’t much, but at least it was something. he didn’t dare to leave hawkins. while he knew that there could be more opportunities out there, he didn’t think he was worthy of getting them. plus, he knew better than to leave everything he knew behind. so with that in mind, steve decided that he should learn more about cars – something he had always loved. eventually, he learned how to fix them… now that was something useful he could use for the rest of his life.

not long after finishing trade school, steve decided to leave his parents’ house. while he had the house all to himself when he was a teenager thanks to his parents’ business trips, those became less frequent as his parents started to get older and started to be more around the house. steve was an adult now and he needed his own space. that’s when he got a crappy apartment and finally quit family video to start working at a car shop – while it wasn’t ideal, it was better than having to deal with keith daily. however, merely months after leaving his house, his dad got sick. and while steve did everything possible to help him out, it seemed like he didn’t want his help. steve took that to heart, but kept sending him money every month until he eventually passed away. 

when it came to his love life, it stayed the same after 1986. things with nancy had not worked out and he didn’t seem to settle down with anyone. but of course, he wanted that more than anything. all his life seemed like he had been searching for something more and it didn’t seem to come. it wasn’t because he wasn’t trying, of course. it turned out that working at a car shop and fixing cars to the women of hawkins gave him more action than he had ever expected. and he didn’t complain about it… who would complain about sleeping around without any consequences? at least, nothing had happened so far…

but just like everything, something had to go wrong. in the summer of 2004, one of steve’s one-night stands (or more, he honestly couldn’t remember), showed up at the car shop, yelling at him, telling him that she was pregnant. steve’s whole world almost collapsed in front of him with this news. and perhaps getting an abortion would be the best for the two of them… but steve quickly realized that this was everything that he ever wanted. of course, saying that he wanted to keep the baby to the woman who planned to abort it earned him a slap in the face – but he was serious about it. this was everything that he had ever wanted… after all, he had been a pretty good damn babysitter when he was younger, who was to say that he wouldn’t be a great parent?

after that, steve paid for everything respecting the baby. somehow, he had made an agreement with the mom about keeping the kid… in a way, steve had found his purpose in being a dad. everything he did then, he was doing it for the kid… his kid. except steve didn’t expect that being a dad was that much work. when the baby was born, steve spent a long time trying to figure out a name for him – he spent a whole week just calling him “baby” until he finally decided on a name – ford Harrington. after that, steve spent sleepless nights taking care of his son – whether ford was keeping him up crying all night or steve was paranoid about why he was being so quiet. but, even after everything, steve learned that there was nothing better than being a dad.

As an aside, please let us know what your character left behind in the Hawkins High Time-Capsule between 1983 (Season 1) - 1986 (Season 4). We’d simply love to know! Please do so even if your character was not canonically in Hawkins or attending Hawkins High during this timeframe.

the baseball bat covered with nails in ’86 –  a few months after the defeat of vecna and the tragic death of will byers and eleven, steve stumbled upon the baseball bat under his bed. the fight was over, and even if they had won, steve still felt like he had lost. but even then, he decided to leave it behind in the time capsule. it was time to leave the past in the past.

stats

Please distribute up to fifty points among the following stats! Click here for more detailed instructions on stats.

Athletics (How Athletic are they?) - 3

Burglary (Can they swipe stuff?) - 0

Contacts (Do they know people with information?) - 2

Deceive (Are they a good liar?) - -1

Drive (like, actual driving ability) - 3

Empathy - 2

Fight - 2

Investigate - 1

Lore – 0

Medicine - 1

Navigation - 1

Notice - 1

Provoke - 2

Rapport - 3

Resourcefulness - 2

Stealth - -2

Will - 3

[eloquentgifs]

DWJ Reading Project. Part II

As I said here, my 2021 resolution is gonna be READING EVERY DIANA WYNNE JONES BOOK I CAN FIND, and due to my love of making lists and taking notes, I’ve decided keeping track of this reading project here in this post, which I’ll keep updated as I make progress. It’s mostly for my own pleasure, but maybe it helps someone who wants to give it a try to this amazing writer and doesn’t know where to start.

Part I (1970 - 1976 & The Dalemark Quartet)

Part III (1984 - 1992 & Land of Ingary Series)

- The Chrestomanci Series (DWJ’s suggested reading order): · Charmed Life (1977): I couldn’t fully enjoy it because the main premise of the story is the codependency Cat has with his AWFUL sister, and how her abuse shapes everything on his life. He has such a low self esteem and needs so much a hug, it just breaks my heart every page. In any case, the worldbuilding, the magic system and the general vibe are just amazing. If it keeps like this, I totally understand why so many people love this series

· The Lives of Christopher Chant (1988): Ok, this is the good shit. I don’t even know how to describe it in few words. Let’s say that there’s also a kid being abused by his relatives, and there were parts where I wanted to throw the book against the wall, but Christopher is such a fascinating character to read about that you just can’t stop. And this universe, OMFG. Also, is the Asheth thing some kind of homage to The Tombs of Atuan?

· Conrad’s Fate (2005): I’ve binge-watched Downton Abbey a few months ago, so finding out this book is basically DA with magic was just a delight. Christopher and his new BFF Conrad arrive to this big ass manor to work as lackeys, while both having secret agendas of their own. There’s everything one would expect and more: Rich Family Drama, Upstairs/Downstaris antics, crime solving, forbidden loves, scifi-ish reality bugs, and of course abusive relatives (at this point, if I were DWJ’s uncle I'd think she was trying to tell me something). I read it in a day and a half. The only negative thing I can say is that I missed Christopher POV of things. 

· Witch Week (1982): This is about a bunch of pupils and teachers in a deppresing boarding school. Everyone is a little bit of an asshole at some point, but it's understandable because this world must be the worst in Series 12. Not only they keep burning witches in modern times, but witches aren’t even a minority, so you can imagine the amount of hypocrisy. It’s interesting how the witch thing can be considered a metaphor for lgtb kids: everyone is scared of being called a witch because they’ll get bullied (and maybe arrested and burnt), but every time a character find out they’re in fact a witch, they just feel confident and happy because they’ve found themselves, so they can’t even hide it. Also, there are more secret witches around than they would expect.

· The Magicians of Caprona (1980): Two families of famous spell-makers keep hating each other through generations, to the point they put Caprona, the city-state where they live, in danger. Sometimes the Italian stereotypes were too much and took me out of the story, but not gonna lie, I really loved the opera spells, the large families living all together in a big house and being loving and supportive with each other, and BENVENUTO.

· The Pinhoe Egg (2006): This one is also about confronted families of magic users, but this time they’re in the villages near to Chrestomanci Castle, and no one really knows there’s a feud because their spells are based on herbs and plants, not in singing opera on the streets. Cat comes back and shares the spotlight with Marianne Pinhoe, and as always I would love more Christopher Chant, but I can´t really complain.

·  Mixed Magics (2000): Four short stories settled in the Chrestomanci Universe, more or less linked to the main characters. My favourite is the third one, Carol Oneir’s Hundredth Dream, mostly because the idea of a kid selling her dreams as stories is brilliant, but also because I loved that little moment where Christopher reviews Carol’s dreams and everything he says is the kind of critique that Diana always received on her books.

- The Homeward Bounders (1981): There are some misterious powerful people who seem to be addicted to Age of Empires, but they play it using actual worlds and actual people. When someone from these worlds find this out, they got exiled and doomed to jump from world to world, only able to stop when they manage to get back to their original world.  The first act remind me a little of those stories from Arabian Nights where the main character keeps arriving to weird islands and getting into the most bizarre troubles but always manages to survive. Due to life circunstances I couldn't focus 100% on the reading, but I did enjoy the characters, mostly Helen, and Jamie eventually grew on me too. I must confess I got kinda lost with the final explanation about the game and the nature of this multiverse and what it's Real and how Hope acts literally as an anchor that keeps the system going (although I find the notion really interesting as an allegory, and once again a really cool message for kids: hope can be your prison)

- The Time of the Ghost (1981): Ok, this one was a dark trip. I can’t really say that much because everything is a spoiler. Let’s say it’s about an amnesic ghost who’s drawn to their family, and there’s a lot of sadness, pagan blood rituals (one chapter in particular has A LOT OF BLOOD for my taste), abusive relationships, and a little bit of the theme in the previous book: the negative side of hope that makes us cling to things in an unhealthy way. Also, I’ve read this book is kinda autobiographical, and it explains so much about the way DWJ used to depict families in her books, it’s heartbreaking. It has its moments of fun and sweet melancholy tho. It’s never 100% depressing with Diana. I think that’s what make it feel so realistic.

[thusspoketrish]

for the anon asks! what got you into drarry? and what song, off the top of your head, reminds you of drarry?

Hey there!

Oh man, what a fun question/trip down memory lane!

A friend got me into Drarry when we were whole ass children. This had to have been around 2005/2006. She was deep in the Inuyasha fandom but also loved Drarry. She would go on and on about Drarry because she knew I loved the books and was part of the school's HP club, and silly me, I would be like, nah…I’m good with just the books, thanks. Then one day during our library period she showed me (I’m pretty sure) the Hex Files and Livejournal websites, and I don’t know, I browsed and I was like, okay, I'll give this a go. Obviously, we had no business being on those websites that young, and this was before the school or my parents took precautions to monitor certain sites (even when I got to high school Fanfiction.net, THF, Livejournal, Xanga weren't restricted). We were very strange kids though, very queer, very into Wicca, British royalty, and lots and lots of Morrissey, all before the age of 11. We ruled the playgrounds and would sneak out our bedroom windows to run wild in our neighbourhood streets in the middle of the night, haha. As we got older, we had a fight club and called ourselves Drunken Monkeys, would reenact shit we saw in Jackass, and would hang off the UPS truck on our skateboards as the driver made deliveries in the neighbourhood (yes, he knew we were back there, haha). I don't know how some of us survived some of that shit, tbh. Anyway, haha, I digress!

I can’t exactly recall the first Drarry I read. It may have been Emma Grant’s Left My Heart. I read Drarry on and off up until the end of high school. Then revisited Drarry back in 2017, and by 2018 wrote my first Drarry.

To answer your final question: right off the top of my head? I'm going to say Ruelle's War of Hearts gives me major Drarry vibes. But I have SOOOO many others and if anyone is interested in me dropping an Ultimate Drarry Playlist, hit me up in the asks!

[cherrysung]

pairing: soulmate!jaemin x reader

genre: guardian angel au / fluff / slight angst

warnings: language, sad themes, character death (car crash), suggestive (not explicit, I suck at smut), my shitty writing (I’m so sorry)

summary: the glimmering boy from the accident would often visit you in the depths of your dreams with eager eyes, your imagination the only place where he could allow you to see him. that is, until you finally became an adult.

word count: 10.2k

note: this is my first time writing a long fic, it might seem rushed or confusing but I’m sure I’ll improve with time, so feedback will be greatly appreciated. anyways, I truly hope you enjoy the story from the bottom of my heart! also, thank you @glossyjaems for hyping me up on this!

cherrysung’s navigation

The rain poured violently, hitting the car windows in near agression as you mindlessly watched the drops race down, ‘till they eventually disappeared from your view. The roads were hugely engulfed in a sea of haze, and it was complicated to decipher the direction in which the car was heading towards, amidst all the fog surrounding. You remember a gentle song playing quietly from the radio, and if it weren’t for the furious banging of the weather, you’d be fast asleep. Asleep, in the warm arms of your mother, who held you so dearly. No one expected what was to come. The anxious stirring from your father, the deafening crash, the cries of the woman who now held you tightly with fear, or the pitch black darkness that consumed everybody in an instant.

Four years, you were only four years when you lost your entire family; and you were supposed to leave with them. Softly, the song kept playing, when you caught a gleaming silhouette in the distance. Just like that, consciousness slipped away from you.

Years went by quickly, time left but memories stayed. The helpless screams of your father and your mother’s tears that fell onto your chubby cheeks; you remember them vividly. You thought memories were supposed to be cherished, but yours only managed to haunt you every progressing day of your life. A life that was meant to be taken away from you, a life that was meant to be spent with your loved ones. You lost one option for the price of the other and you weren’t sure what was worse, there was no way an answer from something as intricate as existence could be obtained. All you knew was the shimmering light before blackness tugged at your vision. Tall, lean and majestic; you wished it would’ve been one of the few memories that did stay, but it seemed like it was fading away more and more as the clock ticked by.

Attached to several tubes and beeping machines, you had woken up disoriented that day, completely unaware of your surroundings. So confused, you couldn’t even process or fathom what just had happened; the death of your parents, or the cuts and bruises that stung your delicate, baby skin. A nurse was walking by the room you were in when she noticed the small of your figure sitting up on the hard hospital bed, immediately bursting through the door with shock plastered on her young face.

You were not expected to survive a coma. You were not even meant to survive a deadly car crash. No one was really expecting you to wake up. In the midst of all the chaos that had eventually formed by the surprised nurses and hospital staff, you could only stare through the small-framed window, at the bright spark that shined outside in the empty streets. Only for your eyes to see.

Growing up with your grandparents had its perks. They were very pure beings; always trying the best they could to keep a content smile on your bruised face, always trying to show you the love their own children couldn’t. Their mythical, fantasy tales were your favorite; the ones where everything and everyone was magical, where anything could happen because suddenly animals and plants could talk, and the Earth wasn’t as soulless. Your lovely storytellers successfully distracted you from the harsh truth, that an innocent child like you had to learn at a very young age their family; the woman who birthed you and the man who held you in his arms for the first time, were gone. Just like they had left, the time came where their own parents had to step off the journey of life, too. This time, you were fully alone to face the frightening reality and malicious threats of those who weren’t happy. Fifthteen years old, you were now totally by yourself.

Or so, you thought.

Forming part of your grandparents’ usual anecdotes and short stories, was the tale consisting of soulmates. Soulmate, someone destined to be by your side forever. You knew they loved talking about myths and legends, so believing that something as harsh as life already had prepared an individual to cherish you, seemed impossible. More so, when it took your parents from you in the worst way possible. Naturally, you brushed the thought aside despite your grandmother’s last words, asking you to wait for the letter, one that was soon to come. You didn’t know what she was talking about, and quite frankly, you were too distressed to care; helplessly watching the world take yet again, someone from you.

Every night after the accident that almost took your life, images began forming in your head. What were images turned into short dreams, and soon, they were a common occasion every time you slipped off into slumber. After giving a final goodbye to your grandparents, those visions only seemed to increase. There, you would always meet him. The boy with excited eyes, somehow he always appeared remarkably delighted to see you, although you couldn’t understand why. Who was he? Why was he in your nightly thoughts all the time? You didn’t know, but you didn’t mind either. He was divine, always formally dressed in a white suit; black, lustrous shoes and hair combed back so carefully accompanied by a slight part enough to show some of his forehead. A person so tremendously handsome, you usually wondered how your young mind was even able to create such a heavenly man.

You never failed to meet him in your dreams. Enveloped by all the loneliness you had been left with, you looked forward to see him until the sun decided to rise from within the towering mountains and over the vast horizon; the sultry warmth of a new day bringing you out of the place where only the two of you knew. Life was mostly dull unless you were having your fair share of time with the celestial boy in the depths of your imagination.

Age seventeen came through, gifting you with the fading of majority of the scars that had been left on your skin as a daily reminder of what happened years ago. One of them, though, chose to accompany you forever. It was fine, you assured yourself, no matter how dark it sounded, it was the closest thing to your parents that you had. Rather than despising it, you’d enjoy it.

The town you lived in wasn’t all that special. It was small and far from the bigger cities, home to a low population of friendly people. Everyone knew each other; and everybody knew what happened the winter of 2006, when your parents died. The year your whole world came crashing down; like the angry ocean waves would hit at the random, jagged rocks that stuck from beneath the water. In spite of the tragedy you had to endure, nobody treated you with shameless pity, and instead taught you that yes; life can be threatening, but it can also be marvellous. You realized that living is unexpected; one day you’re breathing, the next one you could be gone. It’s difficult to accept the fact that everybody’s fate is exceptionally different. Sometimes they might leave with pride, sometimes they might leave with fear. Of course you didn’t know what the world had in store for your future, but you certainly didn’t want to keep drowning in your sea of miserable grief.

Sighing, you put an end to your train of thoughts as you plopped down on your bed’s soft mattress. Your grandparents’ wooden house was the same as it was the day they left; cosy, warm and vintage. You would often dream here about what the actual cities looked like, your last time catching the bright, colorful lights being the same day of the accident. Grandma didn’t want to tell you much as she usually avoided describing the occurence in detail, but she did admit you were on your way to visit her and the rest when the early winter storm caught up with the unplanned trip. Maybe, if your father would’ve chosen to spend one last day at your old house, they would be here today.

The endless questions and memories that consumed you everyday were enough to lull you off into a deep sleep.

Suddenly, everything around you looked magical and extraordinary in the sea of green, healthy grass that kissed at your bare feet oh so tenderly. Several flowers that accompanied the slightly flowing ocean of emerald were colorful; blues, pinks, yellows, purples. Every single shade thinkable was present. A sky so heavenly azure, and a small amount of white, fluffy cotton clouds decorating it beautifully. You discovered, you were no longer in reality. You were in your dreams. Far off in the distance, your eyes spotted the same white suit you had grown accustomed to seeing, and your feet immediately headed in the direction of the clean attire. There he was, the same boy who was nothing but absolutely ethereal, sitting on the soft field of tulips and roses under a large oak tree. He didn’t have to search to know you were there; he felt your presence from miles away, even when you were not meeting him in your lovely thoughts. After all, he had always been there with you. You just weren’t aware of it.

Despite the tall grass that occasionally tangled with your feet, you reached him easily, quietly taking a seat next to him on the velvety ground. “Hello.” He simply greeted, still looking off into the horizon as he slowly grazed his hands through the flowers surrounding him. Features so enchanting, his face looked like it had been sculpted and carved by the gods themselves. A defined nose and jawline, narrow eyes that only conveyed pure compassion, with a final touch of the smoothest skin you had ever seen before. He was literally glowing with beauty.

“Hi,” you replied shortly with a small smile, “we meet again.” He turned to glance at you, his eyes surveying lightly over your own features. He thought you were breathtaking.

He slightly nodded his head, the setting sun offering a nice dew to his warm skin. “We do.” A pause took over, and you wondered why he was so quiet today; usually, you were used to him being more talkative, even flirty. Before you could say anything else, he spoke up with a graceful smile. “You’re turning eighteen soon, right?” You could only nod, a huge knot forming in your chest at the thought of spending yet another birthday without the company of your family, you wished they would’ve been able to watch you turn into an adult. “Don’t be sad, just because they’re not with you physically, doesn’t mean they’re also not with you emotionally. If you think about it, they have never left.”

It had become a common feeling to be taken aback by his sudden rightful guessings of your thoughts. You never understood how he was able to tell what you were currently thinking, and honestly, it didn’t seem like you’d ever know, for his answers had always been along the lines of having a strong intuition.

By now, the bright sun had almost completely set behind the horizon, engulfing the vast grasslands with warm hues of oranges, yellows and reds; while the quick approaching night brought with itself a sea of blues, purples and pinks. The colors mixing together created a stunning evening sky, a view so captivating you could misinterpret it for a famous Italian painting. “I guess you’re right,” you agreed with his previous statement, “but I just wish I was able to spend a day meant to be so special with my family. In the flesh, I mean. I’m tired of spending my birthday by myself. Turning eighteen was supposed to feel exciting, but I can’t seem to find eagerness anywhere within my emotions when I know I’ll be on my own again.” Exhaling with slight disappointment, you softly pulled at a honeysuckle beside you and allowed yourself to savor the sweet taste of the nectar that it gingerly left on your tongue. You wondered if there was anything else more sugary than the tasty honey of the tiny flower.

“I understand.” He replied with a slight nod as he watched you grab another honeysuckle. Then, he did something he had never done before, and his hand grasped yours delicately. You were certain this was only a dream, still, you could feel him. You could feel his skin and the warmth that radiated from his hand, along with the creases on his much bigger palm. Somehow, the skin there wasn’t soft like you imagined, in fact, it was sort of rough; either way, they still managed to feel silky as they held your own. “But hey,” his eyes twinkled with happiness as he beamed, “I promise you, you won’t be spending your eighteenth birthday alone this time. I promise, really.”

“I hope you’re right,” you let the boy intertwine his fingers with yours, “I’ve been meeting you in my dreams for the longest time. Things like this don’t happen, so I believe you might be telling the truth.”

His eyebrows furrowed adorably as he shook his head, “I always tell the truth, lying is wrong. Besides, I would never do that to you.”

“Indeed.” You grinned lightly, and only now had you remembered this had been the first time in a while where you had shown genuine merriment. Night had taken over, and now the dark sky was covered in multiple little stars that, although from your perspective they barely sparkled, you were sure they glowed the brightest if close enough. Sometimes, what shines the most is not always the first thing noticed. The boy holding your hand frequently questioned why you couldn’t see that on yourself; why you couldn’t see how dazzling you really were, like the twinkling balls of fire that called themselves stars. Sighing with joy, you kept staring up at the endless heavens, the lively moon being your only source of light. “Hey?” You spoke up again, earning yourself a hum from the handsome boy. He didn’t seem to age, he still looked the same as he did the first time you ever saw him in yours dreams. Now, you realized his features resembled the same as a regular teenager like you, except he was obviously striking. “I’ve been meeting you here for as long as I can remember, but I never got your name.”

He chuckled, thinking you sounded cute. His free hand gently pulled at a fully bloomed rose, its scarlet red shade so bright and vibrant in the scarce night light. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that yet, love.” He shook his head, releasing your hand and instead replacing his own with the beautiful rose. “Don’t worry, you’ll find out soon enough, you just have to wait a little bit more. Then, you will get an answer to all your questions. They say patience is key.” Standing up, he carefully pulled you up with him too, pressing a faint kiss to your forehead. “Lovely, it’s time for you to leave.”

“But I don’t want to.” You muttered, not quite looking forward to another lonely day.

The boy laughed lowly as he began walking in the opposite path from where you initially came from. “Dont worry, you see me here everyday, right? I’ll be waiting for you here on your next dream. And the next one, and the one after, and the one after. I will always be waiting. Just do me a favor, will you? Take that rose with you, consider it my early birthday gift. Keep it, and care for it. Also, remember my promises, I won’t ever break them.”

Just like that, he disappeared in the multitude of blooming flowers, as you felt yourself fade away from the world you wished was your reality.

You woke up from your deep slumber, a smile etched across your face as you thought of your little secret, who you always encountered in your dreams wearing the same white suit. Your conscious itself was still adapting to the daylight of a new day and the comforting heat radiating all the way from your window. Hair disheveled, and eyes puffy from sleep, you had not woken up yet completely. As your senses adjusted, strangely enough, you felt something smooth against your arm, only then noticing the red rose resting nicely next to you while its petals softly kissed at your skin. A gasp left your lips instantly, and you quickly scurried off the bed as fast as lighting to stare incredulously at the flower laying on it. You were a hundred percent sure that was not there before drifting off. Yet, as freaked out as you were, the boy’s words filled your mind, and you reluctantly picked up the gorgeous plant to place it in a vase of fresh water.

The brand new day carried on as always, unwanted and repetitive. Many outsiders who traveled from the bigger cities claimed your small town was breathtaking; here, they didn’t have to deal with the awful sounds or smells that the multiple factories over there emitted, they didn’t have to deal with the large streets full of traffic and impatient car horns from people who were desperate to get home. Here, your town was everything but the opposite. Streets were not paved, instead, they were nice dirt paths created by the town’s own people so cars could drive by easily. It was mostly rural; adorned with greenery, flowers, crops and the overall touch of unbothered Mother Nature. A huge pond occupied by different, colorful fish was located in the center of the town, also serving as a usual meeting spot for friends or couples who wanted to have a lovely day out. Lastly, the most special detail; a large river stream ran through, which had been decorated between the passing years with several tiny shops and homely bakeries that had slowly started forming alongside it. Generally, it reminded you of pictures from Venice, Italy that you’d see on the internet.

In spite of how gifting your little town was, it’s not like you could enjoy it when you had no one to explore it with. You had your fair shares of adventures around it when you were young, but as you inevitably grew older, so did the cravings for companionship, for a friend. A friend you didn’t have. Growing up without any parents somehow prevented children at school from befriending you, claiming it was weird to not have a mother or a father. You never blamed them, nor did you resent them; they were merely young kids, who were almost just as clueless as you.

Due to many unpleasant experiences, you began believing this town had nothing else in store for you other than remind you of the unforgettable truth, so you often refrained from going out when it was unneeded. Living alone had also slowly become bearable; either way, you had to learn how to because there was nobody else who would be able to guide you through life. There was no choice but to become independent at an early age.

After taking a warm shower and placing the unexpected rose in a vase, you decided to make yourself some chamomile tea. While waiting for the water to boil, your eyes spotted a rusty note that was messily folded, laying on the kitchen counter. It appeared almost crumpled, like it had been bunched up in a rush. You confusedly stared at it for a short moment, trying to remember whether there had been a note there last night when you cleaned the kitchen isle. A sudden whistle interrupted your puzzled thoughts just as you were about to open up the strange looking letter, bringing you out of your daze as the loud hiss reminded you the boiling, hot water was finally ready. Cursing under your breath, you quickly whipped around in a hurry to turn off the stove, forgetting about the wrinkled paper altogether.

The rest of your day went by unbothered, the night sky catching up quicker than you had presumed. Regardless, it didn’t faze you. Rather than upsetting you, it only caused a huge wave of excitement to travel along your body; you knew what the night meant. You let out a squeal that bounced off the walls as you observed through the window the dark sky that had engulfed the whole town, decorated by the bright moon that had replaced the yellow, warm sun. It was only seven at night when you read the time on the digital clock hung on the thorough, wooden walls. You hurried off to your room, where you quickly readied yourself for sleep.

Not long after, you found yourself barefooted in the same place as always, although this time autumn season had began. Unlike reality, time worked distinctly in your dreams. When it was nighttime in the real world, it was daytime in your thoughts. Yet, you couldn’t understand why the season suddenly changed, you weren’t quite sure this had happened before. Right in front of your eyes, the oak tree you were so used to see standing gracefully with flowing, vibrant leaves, was slowly becoming leafless while the few ones that did manage to stick to the branches jumped between different, several warm and golden tones. The grasslands that were once a blanket of only verdant green with the occasional colorful flowers that would stand out, was now an ocean of faded orange mixed with a faint tint of pinkish red. Underneath the oak tree sat him, but this time he was not dressed in the same white suit from always; he was wearing casual clothes, and his typical perfectly brushed hair was left down and fluffy, covering most of his forehead.

White denim jeans paired with a white denim jacket, and a loose light, grey t-shirt tucked carelessly inside his pants; he seemed to already know what you were wondering, and answered your question before you even got the chance to take a seat on the dried autumn grass. “Everything is different because something important is nearing. No,” he giggled when he noticed you lean forward with a new question ready to be asked, “I can’t tell you what the special occasion is. Chill, you’ll find out in no time.”

Whining, you slightly sulked with an annoyed look plastered on your face, “I’m tired of all these weird clues.”

“Don’t worry, the answers are closer than you think. Quit sulking, drama queen.” He grinned warmly. The scenery appeared ridiculous when compared to his radiant smile, it was a battle he’d win right away effortlessly. A sudden breeze passed by, offering a pleasant warmth that felt sensational as the air slowly became cooler every time the season developed more. Whenever you met up with him, you always had new things to interrogate him for, but just recently your inquiries had gotten much bigger as you found yourself in stranger situations leading towards him. You turned to glance at him, despite his side profile being the only sight you could get from your current view, you knew he still looked unreal as ever. “I noticed you kept the rose.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, “how do you know?”

“Can’t answer that either.” He shrugged with a cheeky grin, exhaling with calmness as he rested on his elbows, basking in the warm, soft breezes that blew by every now and then. His chestnut brown hair moved fluidly along with the infrequent winds too, letting his forehead show up for a split second. You thought he seemed so peaceful like this. Truthfully, he always looked peaceful, but today his features were particularly serene as they emitted a feeling of tranquility, even you felt it. He hummed, opening his eyes for a short moment before closing them again, “you forgot to read the note. I’ll get rid of that one and send a new one when you wake up. Make sure to read it, no excuses.”

A small huff of disbelief escaped your lips, as they soon turned into a smile. “Are you sure you’re not a witch? You were the one who put the rose on the bed, right? Because how else would that magically be there? Please answer me before I go insane.” You massaged your temples gently to simmer down all the jumbled emotions that had fallen upon you. “I thought you were just part of my imagination, but I’m doubting that now. Oh my God, what are you? There’s literally no way I can bring a flower out of my dreams-”

“Just part of your imagination, what am I? An imaginary friend? Sorry,” he laughed, “I’m not that. Yeah, I was the one who placed the rose next to you; but no, I won’t answer how.” You could tell he was having fun watching you experience an existential crisis in the middle of your dreams, it entertained him more than he would like to admit. “Today you seem very curious, that’s no good. So, we will be parting ways sooner than we usually do.”

“Wait, no, what-”

With only the snap of his fingers, it was nighttime, like a light switch had been flicked and suddenly the brightness was turned off. Due to the fast approaching winter lurking just around the corner, it was freezing cold, the temperatures so low you stared at the unfazed boy like he was crazy. You immediately began shivering, and he calmly took the time to place his denim jacket over your trembling shoulders. Honestly, the piece of clothing didn’t really provide you with much cover, but the warmth of his body that had stuck to it was enough to decrease the clattering of your teeth and the goosebumps that had formed on your arm the moment the temperatures abruptly dropped. “You can take that with you. For now, we have to go. Goodbye lovely, we’ll see each other soon.”

Your body shot up on bed in shock, anxiously feeling around your shoulders where indeed, a jacket comfortably rested on. His jacket. You felt like crying from all the utter confusion, so many questions swirling in your head that you wanted to desperately ask. Breathing irregular, you stood up with a slight stumble as you made your way towards the bathroom with a failing vision until you were able to grip the small counter, your reflection showing back on the flimsy mirror. There was no tone to your skin, which was accompanied by a light dampness; your throat felt like it was stinging and your nose was extremely runny. Was this a cold? A sharp pain hit at your temples before a grunt left your lips, demanding you to get some rest. Using all the strength you could muster, you went back to bed, falling weakly on the soft mattress.

“You fucker, now I’m sick.” You gritted through you teeth with irritation. As if on cue to your words, another crumpled ball of paper flew onto your forehead, gently bouncing off and onto the bedsheets. You cursed again, rolling your eyes before opening up the letter. It looked old, the delicate paper was covered in several creases and ink stains that were smeared all over the page; inside, was the messiest handwriting you had ever seen before. Squinting, you tried your best to make out the tangled words that were scribbled down.

Before I even start; you got to stop cursing young woman. The Heavens are watching and won’t be happy at you. Now, off to the actual letter. You must still remember your grandmother telling you about it, this was the note she was talking to you about. How are you? I hope you’re dealing alright with that nasty cold, honest, I knew you’d catch one after that weather. It’s alright though, it won’t last longer than three days, enough for you to spend your awaiting birthday without any bothersome sicknesses. How does it feel to be turning eighteen years old in four days time? Maybe you didn’t believe me, or maybe you did, but I’m still keeping promise to my words, and I assure you; your eighteenth birthday won’t be spent alone, neither will be your other birthdays to come. You’ve come so far in life, you have battled so much and yet you’re still overflowing with strength. You definitely deserve answers to all the questions you’ve often wondered about.

Remember all those fairy tales you would hear all the time from your grandparents? The ones you loved so, so much? Many of them were really only that; tales and nothing more, just something to keep you entertained, except for one. No, soulmates are not a lie, or merely another created narration from your lovely storytellers, they’re a real thing. You’ll meet your soulmate soon, I promise. I could tell you who it is, but I’d rather wait and watch you find it out yourself. For the meanwhile, you can look at your wrist the day you turn eighteen, you’ll notice some words engraved on it. They’re meant to be your soulmate’s first words ever said to you; in person, so the flesh and bones. I feel like I gotta make that clear because you’re so dense. When you do finally meet them, the words will fade away. Overall, you’re going to get a gut feeling when you meet the right person, you won’t even need to check your wrist to know. Everybody is destined to meet their soulmate sooner or later, you would know about it more if you ever left the house, lazy. Since you don’t, you’re not really aware of how many people out there have already found their fated lover. Even your folks were destined soulmates. Everybody is.

You certainly are curious. No, don’t be scared, stop thinking I’m a witch, I’m not. Yes, I can read your thoughts and I can feel your emotions. Yeah, even though I wrote this way before you read it. I can already decipher them from days, hours, minutes and seconds before. What’s up, I hereby officially present myself to you as your Guardian Angel. Just as one gets assigned a soulmate, they can also get assigned a Guardian Angel, way before they’re even born; life is weird. Truth be told, your family already knew me. This is why your grandmother asked you to wait for the letter, otherwise she knew your stubborn self wouldn’t have budged. Someone like me can only do much, I don’t really form a part of what The Heavens decide; therefore, I wasn’t aware that you were involved in a car crash along with your parents. As your Guardian Angel, I can only save the one assigned to me, that being you. And, as far as decisions go, it had also already been determined by The Heavens they would be taking your parent’s lives early. I don’t know why, but they must have their own reasons. One thing I can assure you though, is that their last breath was peaceful. All they wanted was for you to be fine, and they knew you’d be.

No one from your family had a Guardian Angel for themselves because it’s actually a rare thing to get one assigned. You were part of the small percent who did attain one. I’m not just a creation from the depths of your dreams, but it was the only place through which I could communicate with you for the meantime. Our situation though... it’s a little complex, or different, but very special since it barely ever happens. Little to no chances, I mean. Again, I’ll leave that for you to figure out. Look out for my visit on the 28th, your birthday. Once you turn eighteen, I’m allowed to see you. Not in your dreams, or thoughts or imagination, just reality. See, right? I promised you. You won’t be spending your birthday alone anymore, and I never break my promises.

I also want you to know, your parents and grandparents; they’re fine, they’re resting well. I really am sorry that I was not able to do anything to save your parents, trust me, if I could have, I would’ve. Thank you, for always thinking so fondly of me and calling me your hero when you were young, even though you didn’t even know what I was. I’m glad you looked up to me. Don’t worry, and don’t cry, remember I can feel when you’re unhappy; I can already tell as I’m writing this letter that you are in tears. Don’t be, I know you frequently worry about your family, if they left happy or sad; or, if they left in peace or not. They’re totally happy in The Heavens, where nobody suffers. You don’t have to be concerned over them anymore, they’re in peace and their wish is for you to be too.

Yes, silly, Guardian Angels can age. Mine was just frozen at twenty until I meet you. I still have a lot of explaining to do but you have to figure out the important part first.

I hope this letter answered all your big questions, it seems like it did. I apologize again, that I couldn’t save your parents. But, do believe me, they’re all fine. Stop crying, it makes me sad too. I can’t wait to finally meet you, I’ve been already waiting more than eighteen years. Anyways, I’ll be ending this here, lovely. I know your grandma said it was only a note but this got longer than I had planned, oops. See you soon,

Na Jaemin, your Guardian Angel.

Your hands shook as the crippled letter fell from your trembling grip, tears running down your face uncontrollably. You wouldn’t say your cries were of anguish, but rather, peacefulness. Peace because now you finally knew your parents were fine, and peace within yourself after that discovery. It was a question you initially thought was impossible to get an answer for. For the longest time, you had felt guilty you were given a second chance while they were not; but, although you still firmly believed they were taken unfairly from you, at least you knew they were okay. Words were not enough to express how you currently felt. So, the world that you thought to be so ugly and malicious actually had things such as soulmates and Guardian Angels? You always doubted they existed, much less were you able to process you were gifted with the two. It never crossed your mind that the boy in your dreams, Na Jaemin, was the reason why you were even alive.

You always told yourself the world had so much to make up for after taking away your loved ones. Little did you know you had been meeting with the most important person in your life for the entirety of it. Suddenly, it was you who had to make up for so much. The question was, how would you do something greater than what Na Jaemin did for you? He was after all, your literal savior.

And you’d be meeting him soon.

November 28th finally arrived, your cold long gone as the time hit twelve o’clock at midnight. Anxiously, you looked down, and time felt like it had slowed. Although the seconds kept counting down just fine, you couldn’t help the shock that ran through your veins as you watched black, cursive words gradually show up on your wrist. ‘Hello, lovely.’ You exhaled with a shaky breath, gliding your finger over the words swiftly; they looked like they had been tattooed on your wrist for a long time now despite their recent appearance. Astonished, you cursed before glancing around your bedroom, unsure of what to do and completely ignoring the angel’s previous scolding for your bad habit of swearing. It all seemed unreal to you, but the constant burn of the pinching you inflicted upon yourself assured you it wasn’t. Your heart rate was beating at rapid speeds, and you began wondering if it would eventually thump out of your chest to escape from all the unstoppable adrenaline rushing chaotically through your entire body.

“Alright, calm down, fuck.” The angel could only watch you in amusement from afar, shaking his head at your raw language.

The midnight winds were tremendously cool as the winter temperatures continued to drop, the heater or the cosy clothing you currently wore were not enough to fully rid you of the icy atmosphere. You wished you’d meet the angel in your dreams, so you could be welcomed by a warm and sultry weather. Unfortunately, you had not gotten to see him after the day you read the long, messy letter he wrote. It was weird to not have the daily visions you had grown so accustomed to.

Somewhere during the very early hours of the morning, you managed to drift off into a deep sleep, unable to meet the angel once again. You woke up to a much more pleasant climate air, and you would’ve been happy about it if it weren’t for the many doubts you awoke with. It had been four days since you had last seen him. The usual scenery you always magically appeared in with the help of your brain didn’t develop in the deepness of your thoughts; you didn’t care about your birthday anymore, you cared for the boy from your dreams. You still had to learn to call him by his actual name, but it was harder than you expected when he had basically been nameless for most of your life. Na Jaemin, you had never heard that name around your town or anywhere else, it was just as unique as him.

“I heard you calling?”

You shrieked, tumbling off the bed and onto the hardwood floor as your chest heaved up and down in fear. Quickly, you stood up on your feet, where you locked wide eyes with the charming smile you always admired, a grin beaming with pearly whites showing through that could light up the whole world. There he stood gracefully, unlike you, wearing the same attire he had been sporting the last time you saw him; of course, minus the denim jacket you occasionally hugged to sleep. Instead of the same brown hair he always had, it was now a light shade of blonde, to the point where it nearly looked silver. Eyes still widened in alarm after his unexpected arrival, you carried on taking in his features and tall figure; lean and majestic, exactly as you had described him the first time. He was absolute breathtaking, and his beauty only seemed more glorious face to face; you were utterly speechless.

An almost quiet giggle went past his lips, a smile still adorning his features as he carefully approached you upon noticing your frozen state. There was a slight glow that outlined his physique, similar to the one you always caught sight of as a child, but not as strong. With gentle movements, his hand softly came up to cup your cheek, tenderly caressing at the skin before pulling you into a warm embrace. You gasped, his swift actions successfully bringing you out of your daze; and ultimately, with shaky hands, you wrapped your arms around his torso tightly as well. He hummed lowly in satisfaction at the feeling of your returned hug, already loving how it felt to finally be held by you.

Hugging him felt oddly nice to you, there was an emotion inside that you couldn’t quite describe, but you knew for sure it was a feeling you had never experienced before. You felt free and no longer alone, like you had known him your entire life; not just because of the dreams where the two of you conversed, it was a feeling more personal than that, like he had always been there with you. Not all your senses worked in your nightly thoughts, and only now were you able to bask in the sweet smell that engulfed him; he smelled like home. Like the tall, grassy grounds he was always sitting on under the same familiar oak tree as he waited for you. Like the roses and tulips that were fully bloomed in all their grandeur by summer time, and like the warm sunrays that never failed to make his skin naturally glow with dewiness. You had never smelled anything in your dreams, because it simply was impossible, but you didn’t have to; you knew right away he was the epitome of the place where you always met up, in all the five senses. The enthralling landscape, the soothing sounds of nature, the sweet taste of honeysuckles, the feeling of the flowing grasses, the earthy scent of threes and flowers; all put together into a human body.

Not only did he feel like home, but his embrace also provided a sensation of comfort and safety that nobody else could emulate. Your heart was beating rapidly, but this time it wasn’t out of shock, it was nervousness. You felt like you had made the biggest discovery ever, yet you were not sure what the find was. Still, everything somehow felt right amidst the thundering thump of your chest that rang loudly in your ears.

“Hello, lovely.” He whispered in your ear, feeling the smile on his face as his lips gently pressed against the side of your head.

Overcome with emotion, a tear ran down your cheek before slightly pulling away so you could properly look up at him. “Thank you, for saving me. Thank you so much... Jaemin. How will I ever repay you?”

“Silly,” he simply chuckled, “you don’t have to repay me with anything, meeting you is enough.”

You nodded as he ran his fingers through your hair, confessing, “I feel very comfortable around you, even though I just met you. Well, in person, I’m still confused.”

“It’s totally normal,” Jaemin replied as he pulled away from his tight embrace, softly patting your back, “technically, I’ve always been here, you just couldn’t see me. Reminds me; happy birthday, lovely.”

Heart fluttering at his words, you began feeling all giddy and fluffy inside despite not understanding the reason why. You could not fathom why he was having such a huge impact on you already. “I have a question.”

“Not surprised.”

“Do you, perhaps, have any wings or a halo?”

Jaemin giggles in amusement at your question, shaking his head. “I don’t, but I used to. We only have wings and halos when we’re in The Heavens, not on Earth. I’m meant to form part of Earth from now on, so I can’t really show you, except for the glow around my body. That, I choose whether I want you to see it or not.” You opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it. “Yeah, I’m still a Guardian Angel, your Guardian Angel specifically.”

Your cheeks flushed a faint tint of pink, muttering as you looked down at your feet, “stop reading my thoughts.”

“What? Are you scared I’m going to hear something naughty or weird one day? Don’t worry, I’ve heard plenty of those. Also heard multiple times you think I’m god-worthy handsome. Thanks, by the way. Its okay, it’s normal for me now. Just keep your thoughts in check, where did you learn all those dirty things, young lady?”

“Jaemin!” You screeched in embarrassment, your cheeks only becoming redder than they previously were, his grip tightening around you lovingly.

The boy shook with laughter, a melodious sound to your ears that you wanted to keep hearing for the rest of your life, and if it weren’t for the awful embarrassment you were experiencing, you would’ve surely relished in the contagious cackles more. Being with Jaemin was natural, it didn’t feel awkward at all, you instantly knew you could trust him with anything; besides, meeting him in your dreams for the past fifteen years was enough time to warm up to him.

“Come on,” you grabbed his hand, letting go not long after when a jolt shot through your arm. “What the hell! What was that?”

“You better stop cursing around me,” Jaemin jokingly warned, narrowing his eyes at you, “you have to find that out for yourself. I never thought you’d be this clueless, to be honest.”

“And lastly, this is the basement; tour is finally done! This used to be my grandparent’s house from mom’s side, where I spent my whole childhood in. My dad’s parents lived a little farther away and their house wasn’t roomy enough to take me, but they still visited here constantly; it felt like they all lived together, honestly.” You explained to the tall boy. You had decided to show him around, still rocking your hideous pajamas, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Jaemin hummed as he listened to you, eyes skimming over the wide, empty room; of course, he already knew every single part of your house like the back of his hand. He had been watching you your entire life, chances are he even recognized it better than you. Though, as he gazed at you with loving eyes, you seemed too excited showing him around so much that he chose to remain quiet and carry on pretending he was unfamiliar with everything surrounding him.

Your grandparent’s house was extremely welcoming; as most houses in your town, this was also built solely out of pure wood. It wasn’t exactly a cabin, but rather a small suburban home. Everything inside consisted of mostly vintage items left behind by your folks, the only modern objects around being the ones they had bought for you. As for the backyard, it wasn’t really spacious, but it was well appreciated and cared for since majority of the homes in the town didn’t have one. Your grandmother was always making sure her garden looked appealing at all times; and in memory of her, you would regularly keep it neat in spite of your hatred for gross bugs and itchy plants.

“I used to always come down here when I wanted to play with old stuff, like landline phones or typewriter machines, I thought they were quite fun.” You smiled automatically at the fond memories. “Oh! I also remember accidentally catching Grandpa and Grandma kissing, it was disgusting.”

Jaemin laughed, recalling the time you found your grandparents being way too romantic for your young mind to comprehend, and your startled eyes before running off as soon as you had identified the scene in front.

You sat down on the dusty wooden floors that were in strong needs of some good polishing and sweeping as you called Jaemin over. Complying, he took a seat next to you, creating a feeling of familiarity just like you would usually sit together in your dreams; except this time, the two of you were in a basement desperately screaming for a deep clean. You were certain his white clothes would be totally dirty by the time you left the room. “I forgot to tell you, you were right about the whole soulmate words thing.”

“Did you think it was a lie?” He cocked an eyebrow, paired with a sly smirk.

“No, no, that’s not what I meant!” You waved your hands in the air fearing he had gotten the wrong idea.

Giggling, he nodded and brought your hands down gently, “I know what you mean. Tell me about it.” He might’ve been a holy being, but he had never experienced love for endless decades. Now that he finally found you, he couldn’t stop the crazy thumping of his heart.

“Okay so, I stayed awake until midnight yesterday - well, today, actually... anyways - besides the point.” Jaemin smiled adoringly at your cute stutters and fumbled ranting. He had learnt years ago that you stumbled over your own words when you were ecstatic about something. Hearing your thoughts in the distance was nearly impossible when he was so close to you, and it was inevitable to catch what your mind was currently thinking. You were talking, but your mind kept saying he looked ethereal right now next to you, going as far as comparing him to the most prepossessing events from Earth itself and claiming he was still prettier. “So, as I was telling you, I stayed awake ‘till midnight and you were right! I couldn’t believe my eyes when I noticed small letters appear on my wrist out of the blue, it was freaky to see it firsthand. Do you want to see?”

A cocky smirk was threatening to show up on Jaemin’s lips sooner or later, whether it be for your thoughts about him or what you were about to find out; yet, he fought the feeling and simply agreed at your request. It felt like euphoria was devouring him whole, but outside, he maintained a serene stance when you raised your wrist up to his eyes. As expected by him but not by you, the words were no longer there. A piercing shriek that hurt his ears left you upon realizing your wrist was not marked with the cursive letters anymore. Jaemin could only internally crack up at the sight of you scrambling away in panic, rushing towards the small window on the wall to get a better look of your arm with the aid of the sunrays. There was, in fact, nothing there.

The angel pondered playfully, humming specially loud so you’d be able to catch the mischief in his tone, “I thought you wanted to show me something? I don’t see anything there.”

Eyes wide like they were about to jump out of their sockets, you turned to look at him with a frightened expression, whining. “What do you know that I don’t?”

With a grunt, Jaemin got up from the floor as he brushed off the dust on his clothes, rolling his eyes at your question. “Silly girl,” he approached, your feet moving backwards the closer he got, eventually stopping when your back hit the wall behind you, “you’re so bad at this game.” He smiled cheekily before flicking your forehead.

“Ow!”

“Lovely, what did I explain it meant when the words faded away? Do you remember what I first said when I arrived?”

Oh. You realized what the current situation was. Jaemin was your fated soulmate, and as always, you did not notice because you were distracted; unsurprisingly, distracted by him. “But you’re not exactly human? How is it possible?”

He shrugged, running a hand through your hair, “Heaven and God are complicated. Angels can have human soulmates if that’s how The Heavens decide it, the only benefit you get, is you get to know when you’ll meet them - unlike humans who have no idea if they’re even gonna be fated to somebody or they’ll leave the world tragically because of their wrongdoings. The downside is that angels can take thousands and thousands of years to meet their soulmate; I was lucky to only have to wait three hundred.”

“Three hundred years!? But how come you’re twenty years old, how did you become an angel? Does me feeling all happy and sappy around you have to do with all this?” You were freaking out, but you didn’t want him to misunderstand.

Jaemin nodded, pulling you down onto the floor with him again, “there are two different types of angels; angels and Guardian Angels. Angels are people that died before their innocence was tainted which is basically all newborns or young children; teenagers and adults can too, just not as often. Guardian Angels are beings created by God himself, so unlike angels, we never existed in Earth first.” His hands were fiddling nervously with the end of his t-shirt, fingers adorned with a few silver rings. “We’re only allowed to meet our soulmate until they turn eighteen, so our age freezes at twenty while we wait. Angels can’t see their soulmate like I did in your dreams, but since I’m your Guardian Angel, I’m required to watch and care for you at all times. So, it’s acceptable to reveal myself to you discretely. And yeah,” he sheepishly giggled, “that’s why you feel all happy and sappy around me. I do too.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I guess. Someone dumb like me can only handle so much information, Jaemin.”

He snickered. “Yeah, you’re right.”

You pushed him away playfully, a small smile lingering on your lips before a blush took over your features. You never had a boyfriend previously, and you had no idea what to do from now on. Jaemin looked lovely as ever, the attraction you had for him only heightening as the bond became stronger. His once fully white clothes were now slightly covered in dust, as so was his face. Despite that and his tinted cheeks that you assumed were like that because he intruded your thoughts once again, he was the same handsome boy from your dreams that never failed to make you smile. Now, he’d be by your side for more than your usual six hours of sleep, and you were thrilled, to say the least. Meeting him for real got your heart rushing and doing flips, you didn’t know what that initially meant; but now you were sure it had to be love. It felt strange to feel something as deep as love for someone you met minutes ago. Then again, Jaemin was more than a soulmate; he had basically been with you the entirety of your life, your love went higher than a mere soulmate bond. “So, what do we do now?”

Rosy cheeks, the angel was still not able to look at you after listening to your thoughts. He knew he had to stop doing that, but it wasn’t easy when they sounded so loud and tempting in his ears. “Can I kiss you? I’ve really wanted to kiss you the moment I saw you.”

A series of wild coughs took over you upon hearing Jaemin’s confession, your reaction only making him feel giddier than he already was. “I - sorry,” the attack in your throat gradually slowed down, “I’m just, Ive never had my first kiss before, I’m new to all of this.”

He scurried closer with cheeky eyes, the darkening daylight that managed to show through the tiny window in the room signaled that the sun was beginning to set, the basement now drowned in a vibrant, saturated mandarin shade. Your breath hitched instantly when he cupped your cheeks, his eyes fully sparkling with love and adoration for you, gaze traveling down your features until it landed on your lips. He wet his own unknowingly, slightly parting them as light, irregular puffs of breathes left him. Jaemin leaned in, closing the short gap that was once between the two of you until the same jolt of electricity from before warmly hit you.

His lips tasted sugary sweet, like he had been previously sucking at the nectar from the honeysuckles you loved to have in your dreams. Now, you were certain that there was indeed something sweeter than honesuckles. Not only did he taste sweet, he felt sweet too. His mouth moved against yours slowly, the rhythm at which you two kissed was a little bit sloppy, but neither of you cared about it; hands still gently holding your cheeks while your own found their preferred location, lightly grabbing at his shoulders. Jaemin pulled back, chest heaving with pants as he attempted to catch his breath, leaning in again after whispering lowly against your lips.

“Hadn’t had my first kiss either.”

“Na Jaemin, you’re supposed to be an angel from Heaven!”

The boy ignored your protests, keeping you trapped between his body and the wooden wall as he continued a fiery assault on your neck, lips trailing all the way down to your collarbones where he mercilessly sucked hard reds and purples at the delicate skin.

Months had quickly gone by after finding out the angel was your fated special someone, and time flew peacefully as your feelings for each other grew more and more at rapid lengths, if it was even possible to be any more infatuated than you already were. A lot of remarkable things had happened once Jaemin officially stepped into your life; you weren’t low-spirited anymore like you used to be, coming to terms with yourself that Jaemin was happiness itself, it was impossible to remain miserable with someone as bright as him around. Although your biggest dream had always been to visit the wonderful cities that you knew awaited outside your small town, you decided to stay here; often reminding you of the views you’d always encounter in your imagination whenever you met up with the angel, instead of your parents like you used to believe.

Christmas was the best holiday you had spent, drowning in all the love Jaemin cherished you with while his arms held you tightly to his body as you both cuddled in front of the warm fireplace, under large, fluffy blankets. Or, the softness of his lips that pressed against yours in utter passion after he had shamelessly placed random mistletoes all around the house as an excuse to kiss you all throughout winter. It was little things like that, that made you fall deeper for him. Spring was slowly coming to an end as summer prepared to engulf everybody in the heat of its shining sun and the hot temperatures that gradually became warmer every day. You couldn’t wait for the orangey sunsets that were soon to come so you could take Jaemin out to the small shops located along the river, accompanied by the relaxing sounds of the streaming fresh waters and forgotten 70’s songs that the old ladies from the stores never failed to play.

With time, you found out Jaemin was tremendously clingy and overwhelmingly sappy. For a while, he seemed absolutely pure, the tittle well deserved since he did belong to the vast heavens that he described as divinely glorious. You believed him, for his looks and personality where the exact same. Though, your perception of innocence that you had for him might’ve gone overboard, because even a harmless angel like him could sometimes overflow with a burning fire of love and want.

“Are you even allowed to do things like this?” You whined under his towering frame, refusing to let out any sounds of satisfaction. He was supposed to be a holy and saint being, yet here he was, licking and biting at your skin with no remorse. No matter how hard you tried to keep quiet, the shocks of pleasure that his naughty kisses sent throughout you entire body were inevitable and tough to neglect, when the feeling was so exquisite.

He was panting with need, wasting no time in taking off both your shirts as his hands instantly began roaming around your unconvered, warm skin, pulling you impossibly closer to him, “it’s fine.” His hands slowly moved up towards your flushed face, taking their own sweet time to run over your tummy and all the way up to your chest, which received special extra attention, until he eventually reached your cheeks and brought you into a rough kiss. Jaemin’s lips devoured you like there was no tomorrow, like he was a starved man, occasionally biting gingerly at your lower lip before lightly swiping his tongue across, engaging the wet muscles in a battle he would surely win. “Please, touch me.”

You pulled away shortly with ragged breaths, lips a cherry red and fully swollen from all the endless sucking he had inflicted on them. “Na Jaemin, are you sure this is right? I’ve never done anything dirty yet I swear I feel like I’m corrupting you so bad-”

“Stop swearing, it’s wrong.”

Jaw dropped in disbelief, you glanced up at the shirtless boy who still had you pressed against the wall with no way out, “I - you’re saying that while trying to get into my pants! I’m pretty sure swearing is the least of concerns here.”

“I’m not the one who’s thinking about sex all the time, you expect me to go through my day calmly when you’re thinking such naughty stuff?” Jaemin whined with a pout, running his fingers through his blonde locks in frustration before unexpectedly picking your flustered self up. He hurriedly carried you towards the bedroom, ignoring your loud screams demanding to put you down as he gently threw your body onto the soft mattress. “I’m literally a teenage boy, I have needs and your thoughts don’t help,” he kept complaining, “this is totally normal, it’s fine as long as it is with your soulmate, I promise. Now, please, woman.” The angel proceeded to leave a trail of feathery, wet kisses down your neck again, eyes landing on your bra straps before they locked with your gaze and wordlessly asked for permission.

Nodding slowly, you pulled Jaemin down and locked lips once again; though, this time it felt like all your unsaid emotions were pouring out into the desperate kiss, love being the biggest one swimming in the pools of several, different sentiments. He returned the kiss delicately as your hands slightly tugged at the little hairs that rested on the back of his neck, eliciting tiny moans and groans that rumbled in his hard chest. Breaths of pleasure that you swallowed escaped his mouth, the kiss progressively becoming messier and harsher as you allowed yourselves to get lost in the euphoric feeling of your bodies pressed close together, the warmth the radiated from your bare skin igniting a huge fire of arousal within the two of you.

“I love you. So much.” Jaemin pecked your lips one last time with a sincere smile, hands gliding over your shoulder blades as they unclasped your bra, gently sliding off the straps with eyes that twinkled with nothing but absolute love, lust and devotion. “I’m gonna take you higher than Heaven.”

“Jaemin! Don’t be rude!” Right then and there, you knew you were exactly where you were meant to be; in the arms of your lover as he showed you a deeper intimacy than you had ever shared before. Despite all you had gone through, life gifted you with the greatest present, Na Jaemin. You didn’t have to dream anymore to feel at home, he brought it with himself.

A celestial angel, indeed. Life was no longer unbearable for you, it was the best thing ever; and you were ready to live it at its fullest.

[afilmsforthoughtblog]

Spooky Season Cinema

With Halloween being this weekend, I took a trip down memory lane and watched some Halloween favorites from my childhood. Times like these calls for a good nostalgia trip. What are your favorite Halloween movies? Let me know in the comments below! 

1. It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown (1966)

This film just oozes with nostalgia for me. Ever since I can remember, my family would always watch this around Halloween time.  It reminds me of all the fall fun that one can have during this season. Charlie Brown’s Halloween costume is still iconic! Who’s to say that there isn’t a Great Pumpkin? The only thing that bothers me with this film is that it’ll only be shown through Apple TV+ from now on. I wish that the movie could still be shown through regular broadcasting so that everyone would get a chance to watch it. I guess it’s time to blow off my VHS copy and view Charlie and the gang that way. 

2. My Babysitter’s a Vampire (2010)  

I know this movie looks cheesy, and that’s because it is. Despite that fact, my middle school self loved every minute of this film! Two huge geeks fighting off vampires while also battling their Freshman year of high school? Sign me up! They also have their own spoof of Twilight fans which is quite hilarious. The overall cringe throughout the movie reminds me that no matter how you look at it, you’re not as cool as you think you were when you’re a Freshman. 

3. The Haunted Mansion (2003)

This movie still gives me the creeps. I can’t watch it by myself, but it sure reminds me of the good times we had with family movie night. Retrieving the key from the mausoleum scene gave me nightmares for weeks! I think you would have, too, if some undead, slimy corpses were chasing after you! Casting Eddie Murphy made the whole movie watchable for someone like me who usually doesn’t go for scary movies. The Haunted Mansion maintains a good balance between horror and comedy.

4. Monster House (2006)

A lot of my friends do not remember this movie, but my siblings and I had a blast watching this film. After viewing it, we were always leery about the house at the end of our hollow. It plays on the dark fears of a creepy house on your street. What would happen if it was possessed by an evil spirit and wanted to eat you? The three friends must find a way to “kill” the house before more people get taken on Halloween night. 

5. Coraline (2009)

I must admit that when I was younger, my sister forced me to watch this with her. The other mother freaked me out too much. I didn’t get to watch the whole thing because I was too afraid of having my own eyes gouged out and replaced with buttons! Now that I’m older, I finally watched it completely through even though I still felt unnerved with some scenes. However, I loved the Other Father’s dynamic. He tries to help Coraline with clues during her stay with them. I still get the “Other Father Song” stuck in my head from time to time! 

[kinetic-elaboration]

100 Days of Writing: Day Sixty-Three

I decided to catch up on The 100 Days of Writing and then I... accidentally wrote a large number of words. In my defense, this is like 2 weeks’ worth of questions. Also I skipped the ones I didn’t have anything to say about so actually this could be worse.

(I’m not even kidding, this is really long. I talk about writing rituals, tools for plotting, my thoughts on opening with dialogue and why I don’t like it, my favorite topics, the weather, and what length of fic I like to write.)

I’m tagging, and apologizing to, @the-wip-project and fellow participants @she-who-the-river-could-not-hold, @thelittlefanpire, @hopskipaway, @easilydistractedbyfanfic, @dylanobrienisbatman, and @fontainebleau22.

*

Day 49: How do you get yourself in the mood to write? Do you have a ritual?

Every time I tell myself I’m going to get back into doing these questions, I see this one in my bookmarks and go nope! and turn around. It’s not a hard question; I’ve just been having trouble consistently getting into the mood to write, so I feel like any answer I try to give to it will be, in some sense, a lie. Like do I ever get “in the mood” to write? Really?? Also, I feel like I’m relying too much on ‘ritual,’ building up ‘the perfect writing situation’ in my head, which at the end of the day is less important than just saying ‘I’m going to do this now’ and then doing it.

I do have some things I always do when I sit down to a writing session. I write on my couch. Almost always (unless I’m on an event deadline where I just have to write in bits and pieces whenever possible), I write in sprints—I use write or die to keep me actually typing and not staring into space. I write in order, and I often write a whole scene at a time. So before I start I need to have at least a couple solid opening sentences in mind, plus some kind of idea about what happens/needs to happen in the scene. In order to get in the right headspace, I usually spend some time just thinking before I actually get to writing. I reread my outline or notes, and skim whatever I might have already written on the project. Sometimes I look at images that help me get in the right mood. Sometimes I just imagine or daydream for a bit. The difficulty, especially recently, is in making sure I do this just enough and not too much, because then I get too caught up in my head and I can no longer translate what I’m seeing into words.

In a broader sense, I also have a building up to writing ritual—again, I think this is part of my problem, that I don’t know how to balance this build up with actual writing. In the hours/days before writing something, I turn it over in my head a lot. I practice different versions of those critical opening sentences. I play it out like a fantasy just to see if there’s a possible flow, even if the final version is different. Basically, I try to turn it into something that just needs to be written, that just needs to get out. But again—this can lead to overthinking and frustration.

The best way I can describe writing for me is that, when it goes well, I find a rhythm, or enter into a zone, where I can describe the images in my head in a way that’s both accurate and pleasant to read. But entering that zone or finding that rhythm is like jumping into a game of jump rope. If you don’t do it right, you’re just going to trip over your feet and get tangled in the rope. But if you do it correctly, it’s fun and exhilarating and you can keep jumping for a long time. Sometimes it takes me some false starts to jump in. And recently I’ve been having days where I just can’t at all, where I tangle the rope up so much I can’t unknot it. Those are the days I just have the same sentences repeating over and over in my head, sounding wrong, and I can’t do anything about it. On the other hand, I write in much longer sprints than I did a couple years ago. I used to only write partial scenes, maybe a few hundred words. Now I can write whole scenes without stopping, and on a few occasions, I’ve written multiple scenes or even whole stories without stopping. So in other words, when it works,  it really works. But it doesn’t always, and there’s not a lot of in between.

*

Day 50 What fic/story made you?

Um… honestly I’ve been writing, in general and fic specifically, for such a long time that I didn’t have a ‘maybe I can do this’ moment. I mean one problem I’ve never had is thinking I can’t do this. I had positive reinforcement for my school and academic writing, and for a long time my fictional stories were just for me, and I knew what I liked. Even just thinking about my fic writing… I’ve been posting fic online since 2006, and I’ve been in multiple fandoms. I don’t really have much connection to a lot of those early stories anymore. They feel like they were written by someone else, a little. I’ve also moved on from most of the fandoms I wrote for in my early fic days so I don’t feel like I can really judge them anymore.

That said… there is kinda an obvious answer for my Star Trek fic lol. I also have favorite stories, and stories that stick out even years after I wrote them, in all (or at least most) of the fandoms I’ve been in. But I’m not sure if that’s the same.

Also, I had two teachers who were really encouraging of me and who I still think about often. One was my seventh grade English teacher, who had us do a lot of writing exercises of various types, both large and small, including keeping writing journals we wrote in every day at the start of class. He once told my mom that I wrote well, not for a seventh grader, but in general, and to be honest I still think of that with some regularity and take a lot of pride and comfort in it. The other was my creative writing professor in college. I don’t think I did my best work for that class, but she was very encouraging and seemed to like what I did. At the end of the semester, as I was preparing my portfolio, she told me that if I didn’t want to do much editing, I didn’t have to, because my unedited work would stand on its own. Again, especially considering all the problems that I saw with my writing for that class even then, I really took that comment to heart. When I’m feeling very self-critical, I remind myself that even my raw scribblings have, perhaps, something to them, and it helps ease the excessive and unwarranted pressure I put on myself. These aren’t really stories about specific writing pieces that ‘made’ me but I do think they speak to that ‘maybe I can do this’ feeling.

*

Day 51: Do you use tools for plotting and what are they?

So, generally, no. Sometimes I’ll look at various writing/plotting/organizational tools as a method of distraction, but my actual process is very simple. I use plain old notebooks and pens, and word documents on my computer, to plan all my fics, from the one-shots to the multi-chapters. I start by writing down general thoughts and brainstorming, then I build a scene list and/or outline, and then, if necessary, I separate the scenes lists into chapters. Sometimes I break down the scenes even more, if I have additional ideas I don’t wan to forget or if I know I need to hit certain points in a specific scene. The process varies a little bit from project to project, but that’s basically all I do.

I did use Evernote to plan the (still unwritten….) Ark AU. I don’t know if that was the best program choice or if something else exists that would have more precisely met my needs. But that’s what I used and that’s how it is. It’s a little annoying that every time I open it, it’s been updated, and the interface looks totally different and I have to relearn where everything is. But the tagging system has worked decently to allow me to see the big picture of this complex, multi-strand, multi-character, multi-ship disaster epic of a story. I struggled to plot it for a long time because I didn’t know how to balance all of the different parts. In Evernote, I made one ‘note’ for each character, and one for each scene (in addition to miscellaneous notes about sub plots, relationships, questions, etc.). Then I tagged each of them, including tagging the scenes by chapter. So now I can look at a list of all the characters, or all the scenes, or all of the scenes in chapter 8, or whatever, but I can also look at just one particular note at a time, and not be distracted by anything else. That said, I do also have one note that is just a total scene list for the whole fic, which is pretty reminiscent of my usual outlining process.

So… somehow this helped me plot (tentatively) the whole thing, but as I’ve written almost none of it—I finished outlining this in February 2020 so in my defense… I think you can see why it stalled—I’m not yet sure if it was a successful experiment in a ‘plotting tool.’

*

Day 60: How do you start your chapters? Do you start with dialogue? Why or why not?

While I am definitely against prescriptive “writing rues” generally, as my own personal rule, I try not to start with dialogue unless I have a very good reason.

To be quite honest, I think it’s lazy. I do think that dialogue openings can be used well, if the writer acknowledges that they are intensely stylistic and, from a reader’s perspective, quite difficult. Even within fanfiction, where a line of dialogue (especially if accompanied by a dialogue tag or swiftly followed by a reference to the speaker) gives a lot more information to the reader than in original fiction, opening with dialogue still shoves the reader directly into the deep end of the scene, with very little to orient her. WHERE is the speaker? WHO is being addressed in the dialogue? WHAT is the context of the conversation? Who ELSE might be present in the scene?

There are reasons you might want to throw the reader in the aforementioned deep-end. Maybe it’s an in media res situation and you want to emphasize the overwhelming nature of the action—starting a scene with “Get down!” for example. Or maybe the overall mood is one of disorientation or floating or uncertainty, and you want to create the same effect in the reader.

But I think if you’re starting a scene with dialogue because that’s the first thing that comes to mind for you—the person who conveniently already has the setting, character list, and even future plot already in mind—and it’s just simplest and easiest to start that way, you’re doing a disservice to the reader.

For example, I actually am planning to start the next chapter of the Sleeping Beauty AU with dialogue. My POV character is in a room with multiple other characters, and she’s examining something meaningful to her and not fully listening to the conversation around her. So I want the dialogue to float around in the background, to feel unmoored, and to stand in contrast to the very precise, detailed thoughts and memories that she’s experiencing, which are grounded in physical sensations like touch.

I haven’t quite gotten it to work yet, though, in part because opening with dialogue and doing it well is, in my opinion, quite hard. The difficulty lies in alleviating the challenges the reader is experiencing and making the text fluid and easy to picture. You need to get all of that scene-setting information—the who, what, when, where, and why—in very quickly, but without being jarring. In this scene in particular, I have multiple characters, all in a comparatively unusual location, and I need to establish where they are, who exactly is there, how they’ve come to meet my POV character (which happens ‘off screen’ between the end of Ch5 and the beginning of Ch6), all on top of the character’s thoughts and feelings.

I know all of this very well. To picture the scene in my own head takes only a moment. I just think about it and I see all seven of the characters, where they’re sitting, how they’re positioned, what their facial expressions are, and I also know roughly what each of them is thinking and feeling. To describe all of this in words would take several sentences. Do I put all those sentences on the front end? Do I weave them in among other description and dialogue? Is all of it even necessary—maybe we don’t need to know who’s sitting in what order on the couch, for example.

I’ve gone over a couple of different ways to do this in my head, and I’m sure it is possible, but I’m struggling to get it all down in a coherent way. (Admittedly, I’ve only made one solid attempt. As I was describing above, I’m probably going to jump in with several false starts, and then it will suddenly click.)

My initial attempt to set up the scene relied heavily on dialogue, but when I read it over, what sounded snappy and interesting in my head just fell completely flat—because it lacked context and thus, any meaning. I think the gulf between how dialogue openings feel to the writer and how they feel to the reader is large. To the writer, they feel easy and natural. To the reader, they can feel forced and, contrary to the writer’s intention, serve as an additional reminder that this is a constructed narrative rather than an immersive experience—the opposite of natural. In other words, as I said, they’re a highly stylized form of writing.

To illustrate, this was my first try at the Chapter 6 intro:

"I still can't believe it," a lightly awed voice says from somewhere behind Clarke. "The Princess of Alpha Station really used to live in our quarters.”

She pictures Miller, sunk into the couch cushions, slowly shaking his head, the expression on his face equal parts satisfied and amused.

"Really? That's what you think is the oddest part of all this?"

"Yeah, Bry, I do. Would you prefer I gloat? About being right this whole time? Who says she's just a legend now?"

My current idea is to still start with dialogue, but to move back into a significant amount of description pretty immediately afterward, and only then add more dialogue. Even this is a little hazy, since I haven’t thought much about this fic in a while. But I do think it’s quite clear this won’t work.

As for how I DO start chapters/scenes/stories… I like to start with a strong image that sets the scene and mood of the story, and hopefully leaves the reader wanting to know more. Here are some examples of story openings I’ve written recently, which I like a lot:

When Bellamy is angered, deafening bouts of thunder shake the heavens.

The cawing of the crows—high, sharp, angry shots of sound. The buzzing of the telephone wires.

Marcus Kane's body shows up again in June, skeletal and rotting, six months after his disappearance at the turn of the year.

The sky has turned a bruised yellow, like the inside of a plum, by the time Bellamy starts seeing the robots in the fields.

At noon on the third-to-last day before Christmas, Murphy leaves the cafe, with a single peppermint mocha and a small paper bag, and heads right, walking parallel to the ocean.

The last one doesn’t seem as interesting but consider: you get the who, what, when, and where, the mystery of the paper bag and where he might be going, and also the immediate understanding that this is probably going to be a Fluffy Beach Christmas story—which is correct, that’s exactly what it is.

I’m not saying that I’m always creative or unique. I often start stories off with descriptions of the weather. And I have committed the ~~cardinal sin~~ of starting with a character waking up, heaven forbid. I don’t have any hard and fast rules for myself other than that I try to avoid dialogue, or at least, be careful about its use (another example: I use dialogue to start off Mad Women—but it reads like narration, until it’s rudely interrupted, a sort of in-joke/reference/twist). I try to match the mood of the story and, as I said, include something that will create a question for the reader, some version of why, that the rest of the story will answer.

*

Day 61: Do you describe the weather? Try changing a scene you wrote by adding weather effects.

After writing a book for the last question, here’s an easy one! Yes, I describe the weather. A lot. Often. In detail.

(Though if we’re talking about the Sleeping Beauty AU as my “current wip,” I actually don’t do much weather describing there, because 4 of the 6 chapters take place in a location with no weather.)

 *

Day 62: What is your favorite thing to write about?

Honestly I like to write about people being dramatic about their emotions. That’s what I’ve discovered while writing my surprisingly self-indulgent Troped fic: I want to describe people acting as if Everything was the Most Ever. It’s fun. Part of this is getting into the usual romantic tropes—longing, pining, exaggerated touches and glances and the like—but why stop at romance when you also have stuff like The Weather and Random Feelings to contemplate?

I also like setting scenes that I find soothing, which is part of why I like Seasonal Stories.

 *

Day 63: Are you more of a drabble/flash or a longfic/novel kind of writer?

I’m in the middle. I mostly write one-shots, and I’ve noticed that a lot of them fall in the 4-6k range. Long one-shots can get all the way to 10-12k but I feel like most of those are, semi-objectively speaking, too long, and would probably have been stronger if they were pruned down to 6k, or, better yet, never made it past 6k in the first place.

I have written some multi-chapters, or, uh, started multi-chapters, but I’m VERY bad at it. The only thing that makes me slightly less bad is being stubborn. Hence the existence of a WIP that I’ve had going for over 10 years now and refuse to call abandoned. Hence this year’s extended angst about the Sleeping Beauty AU, which is only 6 chapters but has taken me literally years to write. I don’t honestly know if I’ve ever finished a multi-chapter WIP, like, properly speaking. I’ve done some short multi-chapters that I wrote as if they were one-shots and then split up for ease of reading or, I dunno, just because. I wrote a Big Bang once, but it’s not very good. Nor very long, if I remember correctly. Generally speaking I probably shouldn’t be allowed to write novels lol—I have a lot of them in my ‘I should write this one day’ idea list—but as it so happens, no one can stop me, so here we are. I definitely have wild fantasies of writing multi-chapters with ease but I’m just a very slow writer and my ideas can’t keep up with my actual-writing. Thus one shots are much easier than multi-chaps, and one-shots on a deadline are much easier than ‘I’ll finish this whenever’ one-shots. One-shots written for events or exchanges also tend to be shorter (and, imo, better) because of the deadlines they’re written on, and are thus more likely to hit that sweet 4-6k spot than stories where I’m allowed to ramble at will.

All that said, I ALSO write a good number of drabbles/writing exercises. I used to write them more often than I do now, but still over the last five years I’ve produced 110,000+ words in free-standing scenes so like… that’s also a thing I guess.

[liamscxtt]

a day in the life ; self para

when: thursday, august 28th

where: literally everywhere

nb: just a brief (long) narrative of what the typical day looks like for liam.

trigger warnings: homelessness, death and drug mentions, drug abuse

5:00am

there’s a moment when you first wake up when everything is just a haze. a moment when you forget who you are, what day it is -- all of your problems just don’t exist, for that moment. the moment only lasted a few seconds before the blaring sound of the alarms coming from the phone bring you back to the brutal aspects of reality. and yet, those were the best five seconds for liam.

groaning, he turned over and tapped on his screen, desperately trying to shut the alarm off; the bright screen burning his already sleep deprived eyes. he probably only got about three hours of sleep, if that. he was used to it at this point, and then there were days like today. days where he wanted to wither into the depths of his own self-loathing. 

he looked out the window to see the sun beginning to rise. a sky painted with shades of blues, purples, and oranges, almost like a messy yet somewhat neatly put together painting made by a middle schooler. there was something beautiful about waking up with the sun, parts of it that brought him peace. his sister loved watching the sunrise - she always went on and on about how sunrises were the true underdog; how mother nature picked it’s most beautiful mixture of colors for the sunrises, all because it took a special person to appreciate the beauty that came from it. he never really understood what she meant, until he was forced to watch the sun rise every single morning. and as always, she was right. sunsets had nothing against sunrises. 

these quiet mornings were the best part of liam’s day. the hours where he felt most connected to his sister and to himself. the hours he felt truly at peace. it was crazy to think that liam’s favorite time of the day was between 5:00am and 6:30am. 

he turned on his car to play youtube on his aux before climbing out of his vehicle. the sweet melody’s of the soft pitched tunes filled his car and the immediate area surrounding it, and a smile creeped on his face as one of her favorite songs began playing in the background. he wasn’t religious, but there was a part of him that truly found strength in knowing that his sister wasn’t far away. 

he rolled up the worn down mattress topper, collected his pillow and blanket in one hand. he broke down his bed as he pushed the backseat of his 2006 ford escape upright and neatly tucked his belongings into his trunk. 

5:30am

he pulled into the vacant parking lot of the soulstice gym. the gym was set to open in a half hour; luckily for him, there weren’t many college students that would dare to wake up at the crack of dawn just to work out. he stuffed everything he needed to get ready for the day into a duffle bag; shower supplies, and a clean outfit. he desperately needed to do laundry, and he needed to get food...but pay day wasn’t until next week. he was gonna have to find cash, and find it quick - maybe he’ll just pick up another shift at the bar. he practically lived at that place now.

his footsteps echoed through as he walked through the empty fitness center; not even the cleaners had arrived for their early morning shift. he quickly hopped into the showers and get ready for the day. lord knows he needed to wash the dirt and sins that painted his skin from the previous nights festivities. he couldn’t even recall what exactly happened, and that was both a blessing and a curse. it was shortly after he turned on all the lights and greeted the early morning cleaners, jimmy and george. 

“good morning, son!” greeted george. 

“mornin’, will.” jimmy greeted shortly after. 

jimmy and george worked closely together, and were usually gone for the day 2pm; and yet, liam knew the guys quite well. 

jimmy is in his early-forties, married with two children. he worked two full time jobs to get his children through school. his son played division II baseball at a school somewhere in the midwest, and is majoring in sports education. he wants to be a gym teacher. his daughter is studying to be a nurse at monarch. she aspires to work in women’s health. jimmy always spoke so highly of them two. 

george is in his mid-sixties, but is still kicking it like he’s twenty. he’s also married with children and even grandchildren, but his story is more tragic. he’s a retired firefighter, who is still working a full time job because his pension wasn’t enough to make ends meet. can’t make ends meet. his only daughter passed away at a young age - drug overdose, he says. his only son is constantly in and out of jail for drug charges - leaving george and his wife to take care and raise their two grandchildren, layla and michael. layla is 14 and is getting ready to start high school. she loves to play volleyball, and apparently is a natural. michael is 9 and is getting ready to start fourth grade. he love cars, spider man, legos, sonic, and baseball cards. he wants to be a youtube gamer when he grows up. liam didn’t know the kid, but he thought he was fucking awesome. 

two completely different stories, and yet liam believed that those two men deserved the world and then some.

“what’s up, guys?” liam greeted with a smile as he filled up his metal water bottle at the nearest filling station. “when are the kids set to go back, george?”

“this coming monday. mikey’s already complaining how he doesn’t need school to be a youtuber. apparently he’s ‘done his research’.” the comment makes both liam and jimmy laugh. 

“tell the little man to put that energy into a sport, or a trade. i need a new mechanic.” jim jested, once again causing the other two to laugh. “what about you, will? getting ready to start the semester back up? gabby is already stressing because some of her professors already posted the syllabus.” 

“shit, i haven’t even gotten my textbooks yet. i might have to join mikey with this whole youtuber plan and hope for the best.” liam said with a nervous chuckle. he almost had completely forgotten about the upcoming semester approaching. 

to quickly divert the question away from him, he spoke once more. “say, george. i found a few baseball cards at the bar the other night. remind me to bring them in for you.” 

“you’ll make that boys entire week. maybe i’ll use that to bribe him to go to school.” 

jimmy just smiled. “you’re a good kid, scotty boy. never change.” 

2:30pm

it had only been a half hour since liam clocked out from his morning job, and he quickly made his way over to the library. the mention of school that morning brought liam into a panic. he grabbed a spot at one of desks in the computer station, powering on the device and pulling out his notebook. luckily enough, most of the textbooks he needed the library had available. leaving his stuff behind, he went to go fetched them. 

he already had mastered the technique of not having his own textbooks. every week, he would go and scan all of the chapters he needed for each and every class. luckily, monarch offered free scanning and printing. he made small talk with the librarian that sat at the desk nearby as he printed out at least three weeks worth of chapters for each of his classes. 

he sat down once more, and took the time to put the pile of papers neatly into his binder. it was time to start planning. 

6:30pm

now it was time to work his night time job, mars bar. he was working with adrian tonight, so he knew it wouldn’t be that bad.

his stomach had been grumbling half way through his shift. he hadn’t eaten anything all day. but he continued to push through. he had to, at least until pay day. he continued to chug water; if his stomach was full of water, his body didn’t have time to remind him that it needed some sort of nutrients. he was a master manipulator when it came to his own body now. 

1:00am

the rounded out the tips that he received from his customers. it was a good night, and luckily enough he would be able to do laundry the next day. his body was tired, though; aching from the lack of sleep and abuse his body endured from the festivities. he felt like he could sleep for an entire month, and then some. 

he drove around for a bit after his shift, a thing he did as he needed to both unwind and find a somewhat safe space to park his car. university police were patrolling the parking lots that night, which immediately told him not to park there. he couldn’t park in greek row - too many people he knew by this point. he was left to park in a nearby park, in a nearby neighborhood. he found himself saying a small prayer that nobody would mess with him that night. 

he lit up a joint once he found his place, feeling the smoke fill his lungs as he listened to the calming music that played on the radio. ed sheeran was playing, a song from his multiply album. it was one of his and his sister’s favorite albums. that’s the one thing they shared in common, their taste in music. but she was more pop in a sense, and he was more edgy. but still, the music brought him comfort.

he got his bed ready; a mattress topper, paired with a pillow and a blanket. he made himself comfortable and looked at his phone, just to see he missed a text from his mother at 10:45pm.

hi honey! spoke with your aunt today, and we’re making plans for christmas. did your father reach out to you? let me know what plans he has set. i’ll arrange my trip around your plans. 

i hope you had a great day! i love you! ❤️

her message was followed by a bitmoji image of her holding a huge heart. and he smiled. 

i haven’t spoken to him all week, but i’ll reach out tomorrow and let you know. i’ll call you tomorrow. love you ❤️

there was a huge part of him that wanted to call her now, that wanted to tell her he had been struggling both physically and mentally...but then he remembered the damage and the financial burden his injury left. it ruined his family. he ruined his family. and just as he was about to press call, he let out a frustrated sigh before locking his phone and tossing it not too far away from him, rolling over to attempt to get some sort of rest.

just to do the same thing. all. over. again.