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zims-left-shoe · 4 years

Note

Hello, I had a really cute idea for a request if you dont mind. Since it's been lockdown and stuff could I get a Zim x S/o where they're finally able to see eachother after isolation. Bonus for fluff if that's ok with you?

This request??? Amazing. Absolute perfection. And of course there’s going to be fluff!! Chaotic and feral Zim is great, but I love me some soft Zim.

Oh, and there’s no specific age here. Could be high school, could be adults, I’ll leave that up to the reader.

Blinking furiously, your eyes eventually settled on a squint as your phone cast painfully bright light into your face. The surrounding comfort of darkness was fended off by the harsh screen you continued to stare at. Nothing had changed in the past hour, nothing new was written. You weren't sure what you were hoping for.

A simple 'FINE' within a chat bubble marked the end of your conversation. Normally, you would snicker to yourself about how he flat out refused to write in lowercase, but the anxiety gnawing at your stomach prevented you from doing so.

Sighing, you rolled onto your side, hanging half off the bed in order to plug your phone in for the night. After that was accomplished, you flopped onto your back, staring into the black abyss that was your bedroom ceiling.

Quarantine had been a lot more difficult than you had originally thought. At first it was fun, you could be as much of an introvert as you wanted and could take care of your responsibilities on your own time and schedule, for the most part anyway. But once the weeks turned into months, and those months began to increase exponentially, it became a problem. Going just a bit stir crazy was bad enough, but the worst part was being unable to see Zim.

Again, at first, you didn't think it would be such a bad thing. He tended to get a bit clingy and possessive, so you thought a little me time would do you some good. But as time stretched onward, you realized that you missed the little roach bastard more than you had anticipated.

Of course you couldn't see him, considering not only the high human-to-human spread, but neither of you were quite sure to the extent Irkens would be affected, if it would be much more dangerous for Zim than an average human. As if that factor wasn't bad enough, Zim was already a huge germaphobe, so he rejected the idea of even socially-distanced hangouts with masks and all that.

So, being responsible and considerate, you had agreed to stick to text communication. It was fine at first, and you both talked regularly. Until about a month ago. Your worries began at the occurrence of two solid weeks of radio silence. Assuming the best, you waved it off as maybe he went to space and therefore couldn't get Earth cell reception. Finally, he had contacted you again, but brushed off any questions regarding the period of being off the grid. However, any response he gave you was short and simple, often a yes or no without elaboration, even to prompts where those answers weren't even valid.

This is where the unease began. Your mind began to run rampant with thoughts on the matter. What if he had gotten tired of you? The reasonable person inside of you told you that if that was indeed the case, then his loss, but that didn't mean you had to be happy about it. Just when you would convince yourself everything was fine, you managed to come back with something else, always a variation of the last negative thought. What if he had realized that he liked being alone, that he missed being a lone wolf soldier focused on destroying the world with no one to care about? You could never fully refute that one. After all, was a genetically modified alien soldier truly content being tied down by something such as a relationship?

The only thing that brought you any solace was that he had reached out to you that morning, requesting your presence at his base. Things had gotten better, allowing for the two of you to meet with contact, person to person. Well, person to Irken. Of course, your brain wouldn't let you enjoy that. It just had to spin some tale that would send you into a spiral of dread. Now, as you laid in your bed, sheets bunched in your fists, you were convinced that he wished to break up with you. Well, at least he had the decency to do so in person, if that even was the case.

You wanted nothing more than to be overjoyed that you would finally be able to see him after all this time. You had become quite attached to Zim, more than you ever would like to admit. You should be filled with excitement. However, you felt nothing but a sinking feeling that made your skin crawl.

"Just...please let me have a good night's sleep, would you?" You pleaded with your mind, shifting onto your side to face your wall, letting your eyes shut tight.

(more under the cut)

Unfortunately, you and your brain have two very different ways of defining 'a good night's sleep'. Trudging into the bathroom to get ready for the day ahead, you couldn't hold back the massive yawn. Stretching, about ten different joints popped as you remembered tossing and turning for a majority of the night. The worst part was the two or so hour period of staring blankly at the ceiling, mind racing with ideas of nothing at all.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror revealed you to be looking like hell...and not on wheels. More like hell discarded on the side of the road next to an empty shopping bag. Dark circles rested under your eyes, which weren't only from the previous night. Your sleep schedule had been almost non-existent thanks to quarantine, some nights you wouldn't surrender to slumber until three in the morning, and other days you would succumb to sleep's tantalizing claws at four pm.

Not to mention that you could barely remember the last time you had worn anything but pajamas or sweats. Groaning, you pulled on presentable clothes, as if this was the largest inconvenience you could ever be faced with. Not that Zim would care, but you didn't want to be shown up in the outfit department by a being from beyond who wore the same saturated pink military uniform every day.

You didn't even bother to glance at the time, it wouldn't matter. Either way, Zim would most likely chide you for being late, even if you were an hour early. You weren't sure if the construct of time even existed in the reality that was Zim's mind. Now that you thought about it, you couldn't say for certain if you had even set a specific time arrangement. All you had agreed upon was to be there some time in the morning.

It didn't matter regardless, he would be there whenever you decided to show up. He hadn't left his base once for the duration of quarantine. Zim had patience when it came to being cooped up for long periods of time, you would give him that much. It was about the only time he had patience, but it counted nonetheless.

That negative feeling wouldn't cease tugging at you as you meandered your way to Zim's base, quite literally dragging your feet down the sidewalk. Occasionally, you would come across a stray stone or pinecone, and you'd strike out with a half-hearted kick, watching it skitter across the pavement.

The entire walk was forgettable, and you had made the trek enough times for your brain to transition into autopilot until you made it to the fence line. The first few times you went to his place were unsettling. Now, you were completely unfazed as the security gnomes eyed you when you padded up the sidewalk, approaching the door. Their beady laser eyes tracked your every breath, but by this point you were unbothered. Besides, you were fairly sure that Zim had put you on the white list, so they shouldn't shoot at you unless it was a direct order.

You pressed the doorbell, folding your hands neatly in front of you as you waited for Zim to answer, scrambling to get a heartfelt speech together in your head. Whatever string of words you had managed to stitch together was thrown out the window when the door swung open, revealing a very animated GIR decked out in his doggy disguise. He frantically waved a black 'paw' to you, a grin splitting his face.

"Hi, Sparky!!" He hollered in your face, greeting you with a name that wasn't yours, per usual. Before you could even open your mouth to respond, he began talking again, in very much an outside voice. A chip right off the old Irken block. "Didja bring the pizza?!" The little robot inspected your arms curiously, stepping around you to make sure you weren't hiding the greasy pie behind your back.

"I, uh, wasn't aware I was supposed to be bringing pizza." You knew this was just an instance of GIR being GIR, but you went along with it anyway. He couldn't help himself, it was just the way he was wired. Or, maybe it was the fact that his brains consisted of useless pocket junk. It didn't really matter. GIR moved back to stand obediently in the doorway, you peering around the frame to see if Zim was anywhere to be found. He wasn't, which only made the nerves worse. Despite your worry, you kept your voice even and neutral. "May I come in?"

"Mhm!" He hummed, jumping aside to let you in. You closed the door behind you, standing around awkwardly for a moment before turning back to GIR, who was already shimmying out of his doggy suit.

"Do you know where Zim is?" Something seemed to click with GIR, however, it was not something that would answer your question. The poor robot burst into tears, which also wasn't out of the ordinary, falling face first into the floor and pounding his metal claw on the tile.

"That boy missed you so much!! He so sad, he even cried!! He loves youuu...!" He wailed, loud enough to draw Minimoose into the room who offered a soft and sad 'Nyah', seemingly agreeing with the statement. You couldn't confirm, since only Zim and GIR were fluent in the language you lovingly called 'Moosinese'. Tears continued to stream down the robot's metal face as he screamed, Minimoose resting a comforting purple nub on his back.

"Is that true?" Your response was calm, having dealt with GIR's outbursts many a time. You couldn't attest to the accuracy of his words, considering correct information was almost similar to a Russian roulette wheel when it came to GIR.

And as if nothing had ever happened, the robot immediately perked up, popping up to his feet with a smile, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. "Yep!! Master's been down in the base the whole time!! Just sittin' there all shmoopy-like!" A giggle followed, pushing his previous bout of sadness into the past.

"Nyah!" Minimoose showed you a bucktooth grin as he looked to you purposefully.

"Really? Fascinating." Again, you couldn't speak Moosinese, but still, you nodded. The purple moose appeared to be satisfied with your response, floating off to who knows where.

"You wanna come play with the piggy with me?!" GIR bounced up and down, eager to drag you off to roll around on the floor and have a tea party with whatever pig he had brought home this week.

"Maybe some other time, GIR." You weren't opposed to spending time with the little robot, but he wasn't exactly who you were here to see. He didn't seem offended, all he did was shrug his metal shoulders.

"Okie dokie!" He brought his claw up to his forehead in a salute, turning away from you and making a mad dash to the kitchen. You heard a noisy metallic clang echo from the kitchen, and you didn't need to witness the event to visualize GIR smacking face-first into the cabinet.

"Careful, GIR! My milk squid experiment is in there!" A familiar voice rang out from the kitchen, and two immediate questions sprung to mind. The first was why in the name of anything would you keep milk in the cabinet (even if it related to a squid)? The second being just what in the hell had he been doing all this time?

The whiny complaints had quieted to low grumbles as just the alien you wanted to see paced into the living room, eyes cast downwards, antennae drooping. The words that had been forming in your throat were choked into barely a squeak when you got a closer look at him. Zim still didn't seem to notice you, red bug eyes trained on the tile, hands clasped behind his back. That wasn't the surprising bit. A jacket you thought you had lost some time ago was thrown on over his invader uniform. You couldn't remember if maybe you had left it there or maybe Zim had taken without your knowledge, but either way, he was swimming in it. The sleeves were rolled up to meet his wrists, gloved hands peeking out from the fabric. Most of the jacket itself was well past his thighs, stopping just above the knee. It had been just a bit big on you, so of course it would be massive on him. You felt any unease you were feeling immediately leave at the sight. Clearly, he hadn't been enjoying the separation as much as you thought.

"I was wondering where that coat went." A chuckle slipped past your lips. Finally, Zim seemed to notice you, head snapping in your direction, antennae perking up to attention.

"Eh?" He didn't quite register your phrase, almost as if he had been wearing your coat for so long that he had forgotten it wasn't a part of his usual attire. "Y/n, I don't-" Zim looked down at himself, finally realizing why you were staring at him like that. He wriggled out of the jacket faster than you could gush about how adorable it was, throwing it forcefully behind the couch. "YOU CAN'T PROVE ANYTHING!!" He shrieked, pointing a clawed finger at you, antennae flattening against his head in curt embarrassment.

"So, you like my stuff, huh?" You asked cheekily, relishing in his refusal to look at you as he unknowingly clutched the hem of his invader uniform, scuffling his boots on the tile. You couldn't help but snicker. It wasn't often Zim would let himself be sheepish, since he normally knew nothing of shame.

"Nonsense!" He waved a hand dismissively, eyes still refusing to meet yours, although without his contacts, it was a bit hard to tell where exactly he was looking if his head wasn't turned. Crossing his arms tight to his chest, he wracked his brain for possible excuses. "I was just, er, working on repairs and didn't want to get my clothes dirty! Yes! I found this filthy piece of clothing and figured it would suffice." You rolled your eyes, knowing full well he would never admit to the true motivations behind his actions.

Lucky for you, someone else chimed in to voice your exact thoughts. "That's a lie." The computer spoke up from nowhere in particular, monotone voice bringing a growl to rise from Zim's throat.

"YOU'RE LYING!! There is no evidence of this!" The Irken jabbed a claw up towards the direction of the many cables and wires strung across the ceiling. This wouldn't be the first time you've witnessed him get into a spat with his computer. They could be quite entertaining to watch, actually.

"Proof." The computer said in a matter-of-fact tone, the gargantuan TV screen buzzing to life, static clearing to reveal a recording of internal base camera feed. The date was in Irken, but you were wise enough to surmise that it was from some time over the quarantine.

The screen displays Zim begrudgingly wandering over to the voot cruiser in the hangar. In the video feed, he looks decently depressed, antennae slack and hanging limp, posture slouched. He climbed into the ship, looking for something. Whatever it was, his search came to an unresolved end as he lifted your jacket from the seat. Apparently, you had left it in there the last time he had taken you for a flight. His eyes darted around to make sure he wasn't being watched, slipping on the coat and hugging his arms to his chest. The sleeves extended well past his hands. He brought them to his face, sniffing them. A delighted smile ghosted his mouth as he rubbed the sleeves against his face.

"Why would you record that?!" His voice cracked at the end, and you were trying your best to hold in a laugh as the TV faded back to static for a split second before opening on another instance.

This time the video depicted GIR and Zim sprawled out on the couch, watching something on the TV. Zim was wrapped in your coat as if it were a blanket, seeming to be content enough with it. GIR had reached out a claw for the article of clothing, wishing to share. Zim hissed, yanking the coat away from his grip, swiping a clawed hand out like a cat. Clearly, he wanted it all to himself.

This time you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing. You tried to apologize, especially since the Irken standing next to you looked absolutely horrified. You were sure he felt his dignity had just faded away right along with the video feed.

"Oh, and my personal favorite." The computer added helpfully as yet another recording presented itself on the TV. This one was a bit tougher to make out.

Zim was down in the depths of the base, and much was dark, the only light being cast from a large monitor just off screen. You were able to see Zim, sitting on the floor, sporting your jacket. He stared longingly at the sleeves that covered his hands. After a moment he shoved his face into his arms and knees as tears slipped down his face. You could only make out the tears due to the light being thrown from the monitor, making them glisten like jewels. Separation appeared to be much harder on him than you had thought. Maybe that was why he had been ignoring you, although it seemed counterproductive. It was possible that texting you made him miss you more.

Zim was not amused in the slightest by this particular clip. He stamped his foot on the tile, making frenzied cutting motions with his arms.

"COMPUTER!!!" His voice was high in volume, but a nervous chuckle laced each syllable. "I think that is quite enough!"

The computer groaned, cutting the feed back to static, eventually switching the TV off completely. "I was just trying to be accurate."

"You only seem to care about accuracy when it is of no benefit to Zim!!" You could only imagine what was going through Zim's head in the moment, because from the outside, he was a ball of red hot rage. However, the computer was having none of his antics, going dormant once more.

"Zim? You're up here." You raised a hand above your head to indicate his anger level. "I need you to be down here." You lowered your hand to your abdomen, knowing that was a complete stretch to ask for. Especially since he was so upset he was stringing together curses in Irken. He would only speak in his native tongue around you when he was incredibly furious. His teeth were gritted tightly, foot tapping audibly on the tile.

"That damn computer." His growl was closer to that of a feral animal, and although he was calm enough to speak in English, he still required some de-escalation.

"Relax, we'll just pretend it never happened."

"Good. Forget about those recordings." His eyes were narrowed, but he was relenting his irritation.

"What recordings?" You shrugged, a smile playing at the corners of your mouth. Zim seemed appeased, and in a split second, all of his anger was gone and replaced by something else entirely. All the fight seemed to leave his body as he looked to you, red eyes softening completely when they caught your own. He seemed relieved to see you, as if being away was one of the hardest things he had been through in years.

Wordlessly, he strode over to you, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face into your chest. Soft Zim was a rare occurrence, but these moments were something you absolutely treasured. It almost made the months of isolation worth it.

You returned the action, and the second you put your arms around him, every muscle in his body relaxed. It was a bit strange, really. To have a hardened alien soldier all but melt in your arms. He wrapped his legs around you as well, clinging to you like a koala. It wasn't hard to maintain balance since he really wasn't all that heavy.

"Couch." He mumbled, his chin resting on your shoulder as his arms were draped around your neck, your own arms supporting him under his legs. A chuckle fell from your lips at his behavior. At first it seemed like he had no energy, but in reality, it was closer to him being soothed by your presence. You were about the only living creature, scratch that, the only thing in the entire universe that could ease him like this; even he wasn't sure why you had this effect on him.

"Sure thing." You walked him over to the couch, using one arm to snag your jacket off the floor before sinking down into the cushions. There was a bit of a strange smell emanating from where you sat, most likely due to GIR spilling countless snacks, messes that weren't completely cleaned up. It wasn't super potent, and in that particular moment, it wasn't one of your concerns.

As you sat on the couch, Zim remained cuddled into you. A snicker slipped out as you tossed your coat over him as if it were a blanket. At first you assumed he would protest, proclaiming that he wasn't cold, nor a weak little smeet who needs to be cared for. So when he removed his arms from you, you were bracing yourself for a lecture and/or rant. However, all he did was tuck the jacket around him better, silently snaking his arms back around you afterward.

"You really did miss me, huh?" It was a redundant question, since without even saying, you both were aware of the answer. Still, you wished to hear him say it. It would put you in good spirits.

"Your absence was...not pleasant." His voice was uncharacteristically hushed, muffled by your clothes. His words were chosen delicately, as they always were when he didn't want to admit to something that he knew to be true.

"So you missed me." The smile that was spread on your face shone through your voice.

"If that is what you would like to think." Zim made an attempt at being snarky, but any mockery in his words was half-hearted at best. Breathing a sigh, you let your head fall back against the back of the couch. You knew full well that was the best you could hope to glean from him, even in his current subdued state.

"For the record, I missed you too."

"As you should. Zim is very great." Looking down, you were met with a sight that melted your heart. The coat still wrapped around him, arms still clinging to you as if you would walk out any minute. Zim's eyes were closed as he laid his head in your lap, quiet purrs rising from his throat as your fingers absentmindedly played with his antennae. You almost thought he would fall asleep.

"I know. You're the coolest Irken I know." You may have only known one, but still. Zim was pretty amazing in your book, despite being a self-absorbed idiot at times. A pleasant silence settled over the room for a moment as you continued to twirl his antennae between your fingers.

His eyes still closed, Zim spoke again, mumbling, "Zim's next plan is to eradicate these abhorrent human pandemics." The words slurred together a bit, and although you knew Irkens to not sleep due to lack of biological necessity, whenever he was completely relaxed, he tended to get drowsy.

"Good luck with that. I support your efforts one hundred percent." Despite the first statement harboring a twinge of sarcasm, the second was completely genuine.

"Does Zim detect a hint of ridicule?" His words may have been a challenge, but not a single eye opened even a crack, not a single muscle in his body so much as twitching.

"All I'm saying is I haven't seen much progress on your original plan of eradicating the humans, and it's been how many years?"

"Quiet or I'll steal another one of your inferior human zip-cloth thingies." He may not have technically stolen the first one, but you had to make a mental note to keep track of your jackets and hoodies. Or at the very least, make sure to keep the ones you wore often out of reach. You supposed in the end it didn't really matter. You would know where to find them if they did happen to go missing. And besides, he did look rather cute in them.

#invader zim #invader zim fanfiction #invader zim x reader #zim x reader #invader zim fic #invader zim one shot #invader zim oneshot #one shot #oneshot #fanfic #fanfiction #request

248 notes · View notes

waithyuck · 4 years

Text

FINE LINE

nct x fine line

kim doyoung

“you’ve got my devotion, but man I can hate you sometimes.”

a/n: I used to be waitjaehyun, but have moved to this new account. Hope you enjoy the last installment of the fine line series.

lowercase intended

nothing seemed set. nothing about this relationship seemed permanent anymore, emotionless and dragging on with no meaning. he felt like he had to pay to see you smile, or to see the you that he first met three years ago. the constant back and forth tired him out. he didn’t look good; purple circles under his eyes that resembled bruises, and large bags from lack of sleep and stress. he stressed to keep himself in check, to keep this relationship from falling apart. he loved you, but it was so easy to hate you sometimes.

it seemed like now all you would ever do is pick fights with him, no matter how big or small the problem actually was. he didn’t want to fight with you, not before and not now. he was so emotionally drained, so mentally tired from it all. he knew if he fought back he would end up in the dust, alone and away from you.

maybe that is what he wanted, although he wasn’t exactly sure. the only times he seemed to find happiness was when a bottle of alcohol was in his clutches, drowning out all of life’s problems, as he was doing in this very moment. he got to think of you when you both first met when he was drunk; it was almost like he relived it every time.

you used to be so golden; you would shine like the sun and blind his every sense. the brightness of your aura smothered him and he was so, so happy when you were around. now, it seemed like someone dowsed your fire with a waterfall of irritability and discontent, forming you into the hateful and almost grotesque version of who you once were.

the was no gray area when it came to the dynamic between you both. there was no muddled feelings of love and hate; they didn’t dance with each other like they used too, making everything a little bit more exciting. in the present, there was a fine line. there were only days where he loved you, and only days when he absolutely hated you. no inbetween. he was devoted to you, there was something telling him to hold on, just deal with it because he knew the person you truly were, even if you were now hiding it.

it was bad. the only times he caught a glimpse of you true self is when he had you spread out underneath him, moaning like a mess. those were the only times he felt like he was close to you, close to your heart. the pain he felt every time you got out of bed and walked away, not saying a word after sharing that passion with him, was ungodly. he felt like his insides were being torn apart, his lungs suffocating and his heart being tortured to no end.

doyoung hated you in those moments too, he thought.

he kept reminding himself that there was a fine line, a fine line that wouldn’t be crossed. a fine line that would fade to nothing and then he could go. he could leave once it became all to much.

he hated himself for allowing you tempt him, to reel him back in. he assumed in your own ways, you still wanted him around too. the light in you was somehow always drawing him back again, even with how dull it felt.

broken bottles, broken heart, broken boy. doyoung felt so conflicted with you; he couldn’t leave, could he?

that fine line glared in his face and made him feel agony, dread, anger.

the fine line. gnashing it’s sharp teeth at him, tempting him to go, chasing his heart away. hating you, but devoted to you regardless, doyoung shivered.

he hadn’t been alone in three years, you were too familiar. a change would do him in for good. he needed you, that light was still inside you, right?

he could make everything work. he would get to you, he had to. he’ll turn you back into that person you once were, the center of his universe.

that fine line burned in the back of his head, along with the headache that came from you. the alcohol still clutched in his trembling and cold fingers, he slammed his head onto the wooden table, the sounds of your bitterness fading away as his consciousness did.

~~~

doyoung awoke in his own dream. he knew this couldn’t be reality.

you were grinning, a true physical reaction to feeling happiness. he hadn’t seen that in the past 11 months from you.

he knew this was a dream because he’s witnessed this scene before. the day you had met him.

you were wearing bright colors, standing out by the ice cream stand in the summer heat. mid july always hit the hardest, causing everyone to be out trying to get their fix of something chilly.

he watched you laugh amongst your friends that day, young and confident. however, he was nervous when he approached you that day, hands wringing together as he walked with his head down.

you noticed him right away, turning to face him with friendliness spread across your beautiful face. when he saw you for the first time up close, he felt like he was going to marry you right then and there. love at first sight, he always thought.

he avoided using pick up lines with you, knowing that you deserved so much better than that. you were happy to converse with him, and you even ended up giving him your number. he thinks he remembers you calling him charming.

you two seemed inseparable; always by each other’s side, soon acting too cheesy for your friends to watch happening. you two consumed each other, leaving no room for anything else.

maybe that was the problem in the first place.

as doyoung watched this dream like fog move along, showing him his own relationship in front of him, he noticed how the colors changed. what once seemed like a bright gold and shining aura that painted the scenes, turned darker with each passing month. the aura turned muddy and gray, dragging along. he watched you change, your face morphing into one of misery.

even with the charcoal colors swirling around you, there was a hint of gold that you carried in your chest, by your heart. he didn’t think the symbolism within this dream just put that there by accident.

his own subconscious was trying to tell him something, persuade him to be with you, to try to fix you.

he didn’t know if he could, some things about you he truly detested now. your stubbornness, which he thought was endearing back then, tested him every day to the point of near insanity.

no, he thought, you’re in there somewhere. it’ll be alright.

~~~

doyoung awoke with a start, his head lifting from the table below him, a red circle marked on his forehead from the pressure of the wood. he looked around him, the room now dark with night. the clock on the stove read 3:06 a.m., he assumed you didn’t bother to wake him when you went to bed.

he sat back in the chair, the back creaking as he adjusted his weight. he rubbed his tired eyes until it almost hurt. he pulled himself up, discarding the empty glass bottles into the recycle bin by the sink of his apartment. he made his way down the hall, to the bedroom of which you two shared.

it was dark, but he could make out your sleeping figure, curled up alone within the sheets. it made his heart ache, how peaceful and beautiful you looked. there were no lines on your face now; nothing showing anger or irritability or sadness. he loved you like this, even if it sounded bad.

he sat on his own side of the bed, looking at you. he tenderly stroked the side of your cheek, pulling away only when you stirred slightly.

doyoung sighed as he made himself comfortable, not noticing how far he scooted to the edge of the bed away from you. he closed his eyes and whispered into the dark,

“we’ll be alright.”

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laughingpinecone · 3 years

Text

ToT letter 2021

I am laughingpineapple on AO3

Hello dear author! I hope you’ll have fun with our match. Feel free to draw from general or fandom-specific likes, past letters, and/or follow your heart.

Art likes: characters doing something, even something very simple, illustrating a moment rather than abstractly posing. I also enjoy seeing them wear different clothes, getting a feel of what their fashion sense is like beyond their canon outfit(s). Or dressing them up for some outlandish AU!

Likes: worldbuilding, slice of life (especially if the event the fic focuses on is made up but canon-specific), missing moments, 5+1 and similar formats, bonding and emotional support/intimacy, physical intimacy, lingering touches, loyalty, casefic, surrealism, magical realism, established relationships, future fic, hurt/comfort or just comfort from the ample canon hurt, throwing characters into non-canon environments, banter, functional relationships between dysfunctional individuals, unexplained mysteries, bittersweet moods, journal/epistolary fic, dreams and memories and identities, canon-adjacent tropey plots, outsider POV, UST, resolved UST, exploration of secondary bits of canon, leaning on the uniqueness of the canon setting/mood, found families, characters reuniting after a long and/or harrowing time, friends-to-lovers, road trips, maps, mutual pining, cuddling, wintry moods, the feeling of flannel and other fabrics, ridiculous concepts played straight, sensory details, sickfic, places being haunted, people being haunted, the mystery of the woods, small hopes in bleak worlds, electricity, places that don’t quite add up, mismatched memories, caves and deep places, distant city lights at night, emphasis on non-human traits of non-human characters (gen-wise, but also a hearty yes xeno for applicable ships), emphasis on inhuman traits of characters who were human once and have sort of shed it all behind

DNW: non-canonical rape, non-canonical children, focus on children, unrequested ships (background established canon couples are okay, mentions of parents are okay!), canon retellings

All requests are for both fic and art!

Death Crown: Death, trick

(I haven't played the DLC yet so, alas, no demons, or no spoilers for the demons, at least) I am absolutely charmed by the overall mood of this game and would like to see something more in that vein! Anything! Got more sacred (or unholy?) geometrical architecture for Death to interact with, maybe in greater detail than just wrecking it? What else feels like a contemporary take on a Bosch painting? Can Death get lost?

Ghost Trick: Jowd, Cabanela, trick, treat

Anything focused on Cabanela being an unstoppable force (confident, untiring, sparkling, stubborn, dexterous, loyal to the bitter end, legs) and/or Jowd being an immovable object (sarcastic, strong, depressed, self-deprecating but knowing he's hot stuff, also stubborn, clever but an emotional dumbass, round). Figuring out stuff? Something in the new timeline is linked to the old timeline? Coat? Dancing? Scarves? Halloween costumes?

I like Cabanela/Jowd and Cabanela/Alma/Jowd and Cabanela/Alma in scenarios where Jowd isn't around and Alma/Jowd in general (REALLY like all these, okay. like this is the one request where I'd love the most self-indulgent shippy takes as well), and dig Lynne/Memry. Yomiel/fianSissel and Emma/JM also cool!

Hylics: any, trick, treat

(I have only played the first game so far so please no overt spoilers for Hylics 2. Feel free to include stuff from it but... stealthily, I guess?) This is an "anything that feels somewhat like canon, please" sort of request! Love the mood, love the cast, love the little added details in their menu screen. Those can be prompts? Or the oddball stats? How do ToT's trick and treat freeforms apply to Hylics' overall... hylicsness, what would those guys think constitutes a "creepy" moment or a "fluffy" one?

Not into ships for this one, however I WILL say that Dedusmuln has all the proverbial curves in the right places. mostly their face.

Kentucky Route Zero: Weaver

Math, debt, the liminal state of almost being a ghost, seeing the world with a strange clarity... just anything Weaver, please! How'd she make her way to the town? What was it like for her to be working on Xanadu for a time? What about the community broadcast! Does she have an opinion on Carrington's oeuvre? You know... things... stuff. Weaver things. and stuff.

I love the whole cast and Weaver... wove... her story through most of them so feel free to bring in whomever. Not interested in ships here though.

Paradise Killer: Lady Love Dies, trick

A post-canon glimpse of life on '''''perfect''''' 25? That's not QUITE enough class consciousness to make the whole thing work, you guys. What does 'normal' life feel like to LD now? After following Henry's case and talking to Shinji so much, can she see that it's doomed to fail again, and then what? What IS Island 25 like, anyway? (what comes after Island 25, even?)

I liked the choice of canon romances - if it has to be just one I'd prefer it to be Crimson, but I'd also be interested in seeing what a V or triad with Doom Jazz would look like. They're all so chill about stuff

Pyre: Volfred, trick, treat

Pragmatic idealist, charismatic and bad at people, pacifist, activist, physiologically incapable of shutting up for a hot second, what's there not to love... I am very into either of the following: C. Volfred Sandalwood has a fantastic day; C. Volfred Sandalwood has a terrible no good day. Everything is great! Pre-exile antiestablishmentarian antics, maybe with Bertrude? Political gambits? The very physical dangers of the Downside which may or may not catch a scholar by surprise (who saves him?)? Tree problems? Meeting Oralech for the first time and Volfred thinks he himself is hot stuff but out of the two, Oralech is clearly the VIP? Feeling like he should live up to Lu Sclorian's legacy but he feels much closer to other Scribes (and what does Lu have to say about it, one way or another?)? The thrilling intimacy of Reading? The thrilling intimacy of lowercase reading also, maybe reading old manuscripts found in the Downside?

I very much ship him with Tariq and/or Oralech. The only canon ship I like is Hedwyn/Fikani. I also like Soliam/Gol, Bertrude/Pamitha and Celeste/Jodariel. Love all the Nightwings + Dalbert (+Deluge...?); love to dunk on Manley, Brighton and Lendel (I don't enjoy flat-out bashing, more like... I enjoy the way they are portrayed as horrible gremlins in canon and if they turn up in fic I'm not interested in more positive portrayals)

Signs of the Sojourner: Rhea, Elias, trick, treat

Once again pretty much an "anything in the style of canon" request. I love this setting, its themes and all the little lives that fill it. I am interested in a wide range of postcanon scenarios and love the whole cast - does Rhea come back to $town any number of years down the line and find $character? How'd their storyline end up in the medium-long term? What the hell is up with the Stranger (seriously, three runs and I never managed to speak with them, I have no idea)? What's life like for Elias back home, or in a new home if they can't keep the store, or if Rhea landed the Oscar ending or whatever (just, please, not dead Rhea. I love that ending but can't stand to consider what it'd do to Elias)? Or does he join the caravan just once? Who did Rhea grow to really like and can't wait to see every time? Any ghost stories or creepy encounters on the caravan's route? Does Thunder help?

I'm neutral on ships here - good with Rhea&Elias, good with background Rhea/Elias but I wouldn't like a romantic focus.

Totally Normal Wizard Apprentice: apprentice, wizard, master, trick, treat

(conflict of interest disclaimer, I illustrated this but didn't write nor nominate it) What awaits the apprentice outside the wizard's tower? It sounds like a pretty wild moon out there, I loved all the worldbuilding hints of the bigger setting. Does the wizard keep track of the apprentice, with her telescope or otherwise, and how does she take care of her ruined parlor? Was this all some sort of 5d chess on the master's part, and if so to what end? And what kind of otherworldly patience does this man possess, anyway, to handle the apprentice on a daily basis?

Twin Peaks: Margaret, Diane, Lucy, Tammy, trick, treat

(bass-boosted ethereal whooshing) For tricks, I would like to see any of these characters face the woods, the mystery of the woods, and/or a new symbol of your liking. Or: Margaret in the city, Diane and the moon, Lucy and the color blue, Tammy incognito.

For treats, a happy meeting. I love the whole cast and I'm always thrilled by gonzo "&" pairings, bring in whomever! Coffee and pie? The Bookhouse Boys? A kinder aspect of the woods?

Fandom-specific notes: love s3, love the books too. I like Lucy/Andy, Margaret/Sam fwiw, and rarepairs Tammy/Cynthia and Diane/Constance. Please no Fireman's-house-is-the-white-lodge, no Twin Perfect, no Judy-was-destroyed (nor is destroyable).

Arcade Spirits: Percy, Teo, treat

More than anything, I love the sense of group and camaraderie among the arcade's staff and regulars, and I'd love to see some more of it. I picked Percy and Teo 'cause they're my faves but anyone you may want to add, up to and including Sue, is very very welcome. Is there any aspect of gaming that feels like it could be adapted to this strange world of contemporary arcades? Cosplay shenanigans for everyone courtesy of Ashley? Any other activity that could show how Percy and/or Teo get along with the others, like they were all forming little groups during the beach chapter? It's such a feel-good canon, any feel-good situation would be great!

My Ari is with Percy but I'm not really interested in shipping here. All sorts of friendships though!

#letter

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rokutouxei · 4 years

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in a way that would make you proud

bungou stray dogs dazai osamu (& oda sakunosuke) | T | 2913 | [ao3]

warnings: post-canon, alcohol, dazai-typical suicide references, implied/referenced self-harm, oda is still dead, also everything is in lowercase. spoilers for dark era / 黒の時代.

notes: this was supposed to be for dazai’s birthday, but i started it way too late. i didn’t want to rush it, so i took a week to write it and now it’s just a long angsty love letter from me to him (in a way.) + first bsd fic so i wanted to make a good impression LOL

summary:

dazai didn’t think he’d live up to the age of 23. hell, he didn’t think he’d make it to 18. he was sure, at 10, that he would be dead by 15. everyday he would wake up wondering (hoping? believing?) that he’d be dead the next day. he never really does. alternatively: june 19th, every year, just feels like a long, long night.

(midnight.)

dazai doesn’t celebrate his birthdays, at least in his head. it’s just another likely-humid day in the country’s short rainy season. every birthday is just another reminder, no, a testament to a year of failed attempts to take his own life. it’s miserable at the worst. today, it’s just numb. he doesn’t even wake up feeling any different.

but he doesn’t let that train of thought stop everyone around him for celebrating for him.

dazai considers, for the first few minutes after waking up, skipping work altogether. it’s not going to be surprising, or anything new from him, really. and an earful from kunikida is just going to be cheap fun for the next day. but as dawn slowly gave way to the sun, he figured dealing with the pleasantries (as in, the “surprise” party that had stopped being a surprise a week ago) and sitting in his office chair would make him feel a little more put-together, at least more than just lying in his futon with his new roommate, a growing stack of empty cans of ready-to-eat crab.

dazai sighs, shuffles out of his bed, hearing the imaginary shackles that bind him there clink around.

(one o’clock am)

besides, the members of the armed detective agency think of themselves a small family at best, and for families, birthdays are special. (dazai hums this to himself on his way to work, like it’s a fact he’s learned, not a lived experience.) he’s spent the past two years carving himself a spot in this mismatched little group, and even if his space feels just as impermanent as anything he’s ever wanted, it’s still a place. he isn’t going to lose all that hard work over a random day.

budget is tight this quarter, but when he gets to the office, he’s welcomed with, salad, karaage… and even crab! there’s no alcohol because kunikida is too strait-laced for that and he insists there’s still work to be done. dazai whines and makes complaints, as everyone expects him to.

most of his colleagues have small gifts for him, like an orange from kenji, a candy from ranpo (quickly taken back), his favorite bandages from yosano… nothing really spectacular. kunikida gets him nothing, but the wordless glance they share with each other says otherwise.

atsushi feels indebted to his mentor, so he splurges to get him something nice: a scarf. which is hilarious, to say the least, considering it’s basically summer, but since scarves are off-season they are cheaper, and that’s the only way atsushi can afford something as stunning and high-quality as this—a nice thick cotton one in a deep blue shade. he passes the credit to kyouka for choosing which to get and for wrapping it nicely.

dazai’s eyes flicker with something for a moment before it’s gone. he thanks them with as much heart as he can muster, then does his usual dramatics. asks if the scarf is sturdy enough to hang himself with.

atsushi begs him please don’t and dazai feels something squeeze in his heart.

after the feast, the rest of the day goes as it usually does: dazai smiles and makes jokes and laughs and drives kunikida batshit insane. it’s just a normal day at the armed detective agency office.

just not for dazai.

(two o’clock am)

a work day is still a work day, though, and there’s no getting away from kunikida even on “personal holidays.” there are reports to be written and things to be followed up. dazai isn’t being efficient about it, but he still does his share—at least enough so that it’s even a bit fair for his begrudging partner, who is always gentler to him on this particular day.

an extra serving of patience—that’s what kunikida always gives him on his birthday. and even on this year, dazai’s quick to claim it; two hours before the work day officially ends, he’s already packing up to leave.

not that kunikida’s screaming will really stop him, but it feels a little better when dazai can afford to leave a little early with permission.

atsushi’s a little surprised no one stops dazai from leaving, but he asks no more questions when kyouka shushes him. kunikida only tsks when dazai is out of the building.

(three o’clock am)

out of the office and back into the rush of the city, dazai’s feet bring him to a beeline to that place, like on autopilot. he’s humming all the way there but his brain’s only echoing a sort of static. that is, until the imagery of sitting next to empty seats begins to burrow into the haze of his mind—and it hurts. numbness is okay, but pain? it hurts the same way squeezing into old shoes that no longer fit you does.

and dazai hates it.

so he steels himself, says, no one’s there anymore, insists, there is nothing to come back to.

even if he knows he will find himself there again one day. he always, inevitably does.

but not today. that’s not where he feels safe enough to break.

this time, dazai’s a little more purposeful, a little more awake.

he drops by a liquor store to get whiskey. just goes up the aisle and picks up the first one he finds. it’s not like he’ll remember what it tastes, anyway. the cashier doesn’t make small talk. dazai smiles at them anyway.

he contemplates buying flowers, but he feels a pang of pain at gifting something that’ll die before he does.

and so he begins the long, slow walk to the seaside.

(yesterday, today, and tomorrow)

yokohama is too familiar to him now. he’s lived here too long.

every street bears his secrets. every crosswalk has a memory.

every inch of the city has a weight.

when he was still learning to maneuver the ins and outs of the city, a little boy barely filling in the hollow of his new uniform, there was darkness everywhere. everywhere he entered, everywhere he left. dazai was sure the darkness would quickly consume him.

dazai didn’t think he’d live up to the age of 22.

hell, he didn’t think he’d make it to 18. he was sure, at 10, that he would be dead by 15.

every day he wakes up wondering (hoping? believing?) if he’d be dead the next day.

today, he’s 23.

odasaku died at 23.

dazai should have died at 15.

or better yet, it should have been him who died at the hands of mimic.

he’s sure.

(four o’clock am)

even if odasaku had acted of his own accord, he was still given a mafia’s burial. the details, of course, were hushed: it didn’t matter that mori had orchestrated the entire deal with gide. what mattered is that odasaku’s death had led to the granting of their prized business permit.

a piece of paper in a stupid black envelope.

in the months between the port mafia and the armed detective agency, dazai struggled to find a way to put into words what the experience left in him. it was like it was him who was shot clean through the chest. he was walking down the path the end of odasaku’s life had pointed him towards, but then what? at what cost? to what end?

his friend’s death left no trace of him, his private files burnt, the ones still useful to the mafia kept in confidential locations. (dazai knows where everything is.) to the outside world, all that was left of the man named oda sakunosuke was a headstone, on a rather beautiful gravesite on a fancy cemetery overlooking the sea.

it was dazai who overlooked all these tiny details, even while on the run, in hiding.

honor the dead, they said.

he figured it was the least he could do.

dazai always felt like he could offer too little to the only man who ever really knew him.

so now he offers it all, stumbling along the unfinished path of a dead man, even if he didn’t know where was he going with it.

“ya, odasaku.”

(ten minutes past four)

not much of anyone comes to visit this grave, really. ango, maybe, dazai bitterly thinks, but he’s gladly never had the chance to see the man here. (he hopes he never gets to.)

because this is the only place dazai truly feels quiet.

he doesn’t really stop thinking. he doesn’t know how to. there’s always too many things to consider, so much going on, and even when his brain lets go of the tangible, of the here and now, there are other things for thoughts to latch on to, like old wounds that suddenly seem fresh if dazai closes his eyes hard enough, or the phantom sensation of a noose, or the sudden realization that he’s drowning, just not in water.

dazai’s long mastered the art of keeping his forever-rushing thoughts in neat compartments. he doesn’t usually lose track of his spirals, except when he’s here.

here he counts down, 18, goodbye, 17, 16, 15, hello, he is young again, he isn’t wounded in the places that hurt when he’s alone, he is meeting odasaku for the first time. (he’s walking down the port mafia headquarters and he sees him, and something deep within him, six years away from the future, shouts: don’t! spare him! meeting you is a death sentence!)

and then he is meeting him for the last time.

like freshly pumped from a weakened heart, stuttering, begging to live, the spurting red blood is still warm. it sends those in dazai’s veins boiling. there is no rationalizing here—no amount of reason brings the dead back.

he knows that.

but dazai breathes easier when the lines are less muddled, and he can point the criminal to the judge and sentence them to death.

it was mori ougai, sir.

it was gide, sir.

it was me, sir.

it was him—it was oda sakunosuke’s fault, sir.

(it was him who pulled me out of the dark, sir. who forced me to deal with the mess we made, sir. who told me i belonged here, sir.

i don’t want to be here, sir.)

it is only here where dazai’s mask really breaks.

shatters cleanly in half, then falls down with a thump on sacred ground.

(twenty minutes past four)

dazai rests his back against the headstone, staring out at the ocean, the sunset dyeing yokohama bay a lovely vermillion. the tendrils of loneliness cling to his limbs like they’ve sprouted out of the ground, when really it’s from deep inside his heart.

only here does dazai really feel seen: his transparency only to a man buried six feet under.

dazai’s given up on it, now. it doesn’t matter that people don’t “get” him, as long as he’s able to do what he has to do. this is a luxury is long past him, now that he’s slipped into someone else’s unfulfilled dream. he’s trying to be what odasaku would have wanted himself to be.

if there’s one thing, one thing he would ask for, it’s faith: and with his subordinates’ faith comes success—and that’s all he needs.

just bargaining chips he’s collecting under his pillow as he says, “look, odasaku, i’m doing good, look, cruel god, this duty’s given my life meaning, forgive me, forgive him.”

meaning?

no, there is no meaning here, no metaphor, no hope.

just a gaping void.

(four thirty am)

the sun slips under the bay and the sky is a beautiful lavender-violet; the sea breeze makes him chill. rainclouds have begun to crawl over the horizon, hiding the moon.

dazai feels old. too old. he feels too old for someone in a body that’s only twenty-three. he never expected this body to last as long as it has. he was ready to retire at ages much younger than this. his hands crave death with the same vigor his mind races to write strategies for situations where he survives. now, he lives in a world he never expected or planned to be a part of.

he wonders if odasaku felt this exhausted when he was at this age.

all dazai does here is think. until the thoughts stop.

the cap of the whiskey bottle is screwed on tight but when it opens, the smell takes him back to bar lupin so fast that his head spins. dazai takes a swig of the whiskey straight from the bottle.

and he was right. he can’t taste it.

only blood. the blood in his hands, the way it stained his bandages, odasaku’s dead weight, the red pooling on the floor. dazai only tastes blood in his mouth.

blood’s always been the only thing that’s filled him.

and he hated it. felt it thrumming underneath his wrist, his jugular, blood that said try as you might, you insolent mortal, you can’t die, that so many times he’s tried to wring himself dry of it.

he never does.

because if he loses his blood what else would be left in him?

odasaku once told him that the emptiness inside of him will never be filled, not by anything that he’ll ever find in this world. and odasaku was right—dazai knew. dazai knew long before he was told. no amount of money, no amount of power, no amount of whatever will get him out of the edge of the cliff he was dangling on.

for a moment, dazai wonders if odasaku knew and was so sure of it because odasaku was aware he was taking it away with him.

whatever “it” was.

(the sun begins to paint the sky violet)

dazai remembers an afternoon a million years ago when the hollow in his heart didn’t have the shape of oda sakunosuke’s hands. ozaki kouyou was teaching two jittery fifteen-year-olds about literature.

well, just one, but dazai’s really only there because he wanted to mess with chuuya, and kouyou spotted him first.

with not a single year of formal education on chuuya’s back, kouyou’s work with him was nearly tenfold. she was tasked not only to refine his abilities (he’s good, but he can be better, a touch of elegance will not hurt), but also teach him other valuable skills.

being part of the organization, after all, was not just about violence and murder.

dazai knew that. chuuya was yet to learn it.

arithmetic and history and science—the redhead had tutors for that. but literature, kouyou had taken into her hands.

it’s not the text itself, or the language and vocabulary, she said, what we’re honing here is critical thinking, and the bits of philosophical thought to be picked up that’ll shape you into a brilliant mafioso in the future. pretty words, dazai thought. she sipped tea while chuuya read. she tapped his back with a fan when his posture broke and he began to slouch.

chuuya read the books religiously, without complaint (at least not in front of kouyou). dazai never really understood all this. he let his mind wander. why didn’t she just let the boy read war strategy books—the kind mori made him devour? oh, but chuuya wasn’t really a strategist, and well, he’s obedient, that’s why he’s a dog—

the silence of the afternoon was broken by chuuya getting up to ask about a phrase he didn’t understand. kouyou smiled in a way that left dazai unsettled. and somehow, that afternoon was burned into dazai’s memory like it was something he mustn’t forget.

the phrase was 無我夢中.

to be totally absorbed in something, you lose yourself in it.

that is, dazai’s long known what he’s doing, he just doesn’t want to admit it.

(the sky is a weak light blue, giving way to an inevitable morning)

the whiskey bottle is empty now. dazai shifts to stuff it into his little paper bag of gifts when his fingers graze the soft cotton of his new scarf, deep blue.

save the weak, protect the orphans, he was told.

he pulls the scarf out and clutches it in his hands.

feels its weight. imagines rope.

please don’t, atsushi said earlier.

and dazai is trying, and trying, and trying, and—

is it enough?

is he enough?

will he be enough?

“odasaku,” dazai says, hums it under his breath like the wind will take it, bring it where he needs it to go, “would i have made you proud?”

(dawn)

fat droplets begin to pour out of the dark clouds. there are no stars out. yokohama glimmers under the thin sheen of rain.

nearby, a child hurriedly grasps his father’s free hand as he digs into his bag for an umbrella, and the little boy goes, “papa, the sky is crying!”

and maybe the sky is. maybe the man sitting behind the gravestone is.

but there are two sure things about rain:

one, that it washes away any and all things if you let it.

two, that it will always, somehow, at some point, stop.

(morning’s just beginning)

dazai gets up on his feet, with just a little sway from all the alcohol. but the night’s still young, and there are better stuff to drink than whiskey out of a bottle. he looks back at the grave with eyes promising he’ll be back soon, a little better, a little wiser than he is, and then off he goes, into the city he far-too-well knows.

maybe he can bother someone into treating him to some good, expensive, old-fashioned wine.

#bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd #osamu dazai #dazai osamu #bsd dazai #文豪ストレイドッグス #文スト #um hi i dont know the tags #also look at me projecting onto dazai going PARKOUR at every sad statement #fic #i've been in otome game hell for a bit so i haven't written anything not x reader in a while so #THIS WAS FUN #also i forgot to add! 無我夢中 is mugamuchuu. :)

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ifishouldvanish · 5 years

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Font Recs/Typography Tips

@weatheredlaw was looking for some font recs and I was kinda planning on doing a font rec/typography tutorial post thing anyways, so here goes:

(I got carried away!)

1. A NOTE ABOUT ORGANIZING FONTS

Okay so... first of all-- I highly recommend using FontBase to manage your font files (It’s free and it’s available for Mac, Windows, and even Linux). The reason being, that as you install more and more fonts on your computer, the font menu in Photoshop will start to load really slowly. Which gets really frustrating really fast.

FontBase lets you organize your fonts into neat lil folders and activate/deactivate them as needed with a click, so you can keep the Font Menu Bloat at bay. There’s also a premium version (aptly called ‘Awesome’) that costs $3 a month and has some nifty extra features, but that’s neither her nor there. Yes, I throw three of my hard-earned dollars at them every month.

Also? If you have a work computer and a home computer, you can install FontBase on both systems and point it to a Dropbox or Google Cloud folder so that your font collection always stays in sync across both devices. 👌✨

2. WHERE TO FIND FONTS

Google Fonts So... Google Fonts is technically a webfont CDN, but all of the actual font files are available for free download from their Github repo. Alternatively, you can use FontBase to sync them directly to your computer. Which is nifty.

What I like about the Google Fonts library is 1) there’s some really NICE, high-quality font families available, and 2) it’s easily searchable.

So pop on over, play with the search filters, and if you find something you like, grab it off the Git Repo or sync it via FontBase.

League of Moveable Type It’s a free, open-source font foundry. How cool is that? The selection is pretty small, but there’s a lot of typographic staples to be found, and the quality is top notch 👌✨

Free Design Resources FDR is a great site for all kinds of design resources, but their font offerings are the most impressive. Particularly, it’s a great place to look for handwriting, script, or any other kind of ‘display’ fonts. 99% of them are demo versions of not-free fonts, but really that just means they don’t include special characters, which lbr you probably don’t need anyway.

Creative Market So as the name suggests, Creative Market is a marketplace for design resources. AKA the stuff ain’t free. HOWEVER, every week, they offer six products for free download-- a mix of fonts, textures, photo packs, etc. So create an account (it’s free) and keep an eye out for the weekly freebies.

Design Cuts This is another site that isn’t really free, though they do have a small selection of free stuff. I figured it’s worth mentioning because a lot of the fonts and textures I use, I buy from here. Every month (or two weeks? Or something?) they compile a bundle of about 20 products (be it typefaces, texture packs, or filters/actions/etc) and offer it at a massive discount (usually $30). Their stuff is always really great quality, so if they release a bundle that feels worthwhile to me, I bite. (As of this writing, they actually have bundle of some textures, fonts, and other assets available for $2)

3. A PRIMER ON DIFFERENT KINDS OF TYPEFACES

So most people are probably already aware of the categories of Serif, Sans Serif, and Display fonts. But you can split Serif and Sans Serifs up into further categories.

Here are four kinds of Serifs: Humanist, Transitional, Modern, and Slab.

The most immediate difference between these types of serifs is the stroke widths.

If you look at the modern/didone serif Bodoni, the horizontal strokes are hairline thin, and the vertical strokes are very thick. Modern/Didone typefaces are characterized by this extreme contrast in their stroke widths, and typically have a perfectly vertical axis (meaning the narrowest parts of the strokes are at the exact top and bottom of the letterform, as illustrated by the green dotted line). These features give them a bold, modern, and stylish feel.

The humanist serif Minion has the least contrast in its stroke widths, and has a diagonal stress (again, see the green dotted line). These features make them easy on the eyes and well-suited for paragraphs of text and small font sizes. Humanist typefaces most closely resemble calligraphy, and thus have an elegant, classic feel.

Transitional serifs are, well... transitional. They have more stroke width contrast than humanist serifs, but not quite enough to be considered modern/didone, and may or may not have an angled stress. Their ‘voice’ is more neutral, academic, and timeless.

Slabs Serifs, as the name suggests, are kinda blocky. The stroke widths are generally very solid and consistent, and the actual serifs (or ‘feet’) are... y’know. Fat blocks. It makes these typefaces feel more casual, more down-to-earth, approachable, and perhaps playful? A lil rebellious, even?

So with that out of the way, here are some different types of Sans Serifs: (There’s a point to all of this, I swear.)

Unlike Humanist Serifs, Humanist Sans Serifs actually have the most contrast in their stroke widths. In the above image, this is most apparent on the lowercase ‘a’. Again, this feature makes humanist sans serifs easy on the eyes and optimal for paragraphs of text. Compared to other sans serifs, they tend to have a more casual and approachable personality.

Transitional Sans Serifs will have little to no stroke width contrast. They maintain their readability at small sizes, and their ‘voice’ is very neutral, which makes them easy to use in a wide variety of designs. There’s a reason Helvetica is the go-to for many a graphic designer: it, along with many other Grotesks/Gothics, almost never feels out of place. They’re the chameleons of fonts. They’re versatile. Invisible. Carbon-neutral.

Geometric Sans Serifs, as the name suggests, are typefaces whose letterforms are based on geometry. O's and C's that are (mostly) perfectly circular, V's, W's and M's with sharp, consistent angles. They generally have very consistent stroke widths, but the harsh angles make them poorly suited to paragraphs of text. They feel modern, technical, and stylish.

4. CHOOSING THE RIGHT FONT

(We are now arriving at the point.)

Here are some questions to ask yourself before choosing a font:

How much text do I have?

If you have a lot of text, you’ll want something that’s easy on the eyes for reading. Aim for things with mild stroke contrasts and favor things with a diagonal axis. Basically, you can’t go wrong with a humanist typeface here-- be it serif or sans serif.

Now, for graphics and gifs, you’ll probably have a lot of text almost... never. But if you’re ever designing something that does (like a magazine spread, or a brochure), it’s something to consider.

How much space do I have?

Let’s say you’re giffing a scene and you gotta cram a long caption onto a tiny 278px wide gif. You could just make the font size super tiny, sure. OR, you could look for a font with a narrow character width. A nice, robust type family will usually include Condensed or even Super and Ultra Condensed versions of the font, which will be much better suited to that purpose.

In these cases, you’ll probably want to avoid geometric sans serifs since those circular forms are very wide, relatively speaking. But some geometric type families (such as Futura) do have Condensed varieties:

How large or small does the text need to be? (or do I want it to be?)

When your text is large, you can kinda go nuts and do whatever without worrying about anything getting hard to read. But there are two things to consider when you’re using a small font size, be it out of necessity or For the Aesthetique™--

stroke width contrast: At small font sizes, typefaces with consistent stroke widths are going to maintain their readability best-- so steer clear of Modern/Didone serifs, and tread carefully around Transitional Serifs. If you’re itching to use a Serif, you’ll want to look for a humanist/traditional/old style one. If you’re super attached to a modern/didone serif for a design (as I often am) understand you’re gonna have to compromise a bit and use a larger font size for it.

For sans serifs, both Transitional and Modern types will have nice, solid strokes that won’t get lost at small sizes.

x-height: A typeface's x-height refers literally to the height of the lowercase 'x'. But in more practical terms, it's the ratio of the heights of lowercase vs uppercase letters. If you plan on using all caps, this won't matter much (if at all), but if you will be using lowercase letters, a typeface with a more generous x-height will be easier to read at small sizes than a typeface with a small one.

Generally, Transitional/Grotesk/Gothic Sans-serifs will have the most generous x-heights (for example, see Helvetica). But x-heights vary a lot even within subcategories of typefaces, so be mindful of them!

Speaking of all these metrics... one of the things that makes the Premium version of FontBase well worth my $3 a month? The Super Search feature:

I can just... highlight segments of those histogram chart things on the right to filter out fonts that don’t have the contrast, weight, character width, or x-height I’m looking for. Like magic. #blessed

What ‘voice’ do I want to project?

I mentioned earlier how different styles of typefaces have different ‘personalities’. If you’re not sure whether to go with a Humanist or a Transitional Serif, remember that humanist ones tend to feel more elegant, more classic, more intimate. That Transitional ones tend to feel more objective, more confident, more business-like. Which makes more sense for your design?

After you’ve narrowed down your options with the above considerations, then you can start to be really subjective. Follow your heart. Pick whichever one has that certain je ne sais quoi. Or the one that has the ‘Q’ with the coolest tail. The one that just makes you feel a certain kinda way. Because it’s art. It’s design. Have fun with it.

5. SOME OF MY PERSONAL FAVORITE FONTS

So... my taste in typefaces is pretty conservative. I don’t really use handwriting, script, or display fonts. When I do, I tend to use them just the one (1) time and forget about their existence immediately afterward. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Most of these are tried and true Classics you may have already heard of, and some of them might even be default fonts bundled with your operating system. If not, be very careful looking for them, because it would be a terrible, horrible shame if you were to get your hands on one of the many freely available bootlegs of some of these typefaces... :/

With all these lined up together, you can get a better sense of how varied the x-heights can be from one typeface to another. For a particularly stark example, see Mrs Eaves vs Playfair Display, or Montserrat vs Neutra Text.

SooOoOoOoo... that’s a wrap? I guess?

Congratulations 🎉 you now know way more than I’m guessing you wanted to about typography.

#tutorial #typography

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summerboyhyuck · 4 years

Text

what a day // lee donghyuck

genre : fluff

warnings : none

word count : 2.38k

a/n: haha this is my first time writing and i know it isn't any good and it's not proofread but 😬 and i just wanted to say happy birthday to the one and only lee donghyuck 💖 btw lowercase intended lmao

(gif credits to owner)

it was currently 6:37 in the morning and you just woke up. since it was donghyuck's birthday, you wanted to make something special for his breakfast. on the way to the kitchen, you tie your hair up and think of what to cook. a couple of minutes pass by and you were in the middle of mixing the ingredients to make pancakes when donghyuck slid his arms around your waist. instinctively, you turn around and return his warm hug. "morning" you say while gently stroking his hair. he just hummed in acknowledgement then asked "what's that?" you look back at the countertop for a second then faced him again, a smile plastering on your face. "take a guess" you said in a playful tone. with that, donghyuck just laughed and shook his head and you, in return, laughed too. once the laughter died down, you lovingly looked into his eyes and said "i was making pancakes for a very special birthday boy." he flashed a grin then tilted his head with his pointer finger on his chin as if he was thinking. he then asked "hmm... do i know this birthday boy?" in a playful tone. this made you both laugh and once your laughters died down, he looked into your eyes with an unreadable expression, so you asked "...what? is there something on my face?" while wiping your cheek, your forehead, and your chin to see if there was any flour that got on your face. he shook his head, smiling, and replied "no, this just seems like a perfect morning to start today."

after you both ate your laughter filled breakfast, you were about to take him out for a date. you told him "get ready. we're going somewhere." eyebrows up in surprise, donghyuck looked at you and wondered when and how you prepared for today because you spent all your time either cuddling with each other while watching movies or eating some leftover food and talking about random things. either way, he didn't question you and just got ready to head out. while he was getting dressed, you packed the other things you will be needing aside from your essentials. you made sure to bring an extra set of clothing, some water, snacks, and lastly, sunscreen. you both head to your car and drive off to your destination.

the ride to the amusement park was nothing less than fun. donghyuck basically hosted a karaoke party. you were both currently singing to Miley Cyrus' Party in the USA when you stopped at a red light. he was still singing, so you took this chance to face him and take in his appearance. even though it might sound cliché, you can't help but to think that he radiates this aura which makes you feel so comfortable and safe. every moment with him makes you realize how time goes by so quickly because whenever you were with him it was as if time stopped. by the time you get out of your trance, he was already calling your name. "y/n?" hello? earth to y/n?" you frantically shook your head then looked at him, about to ask what's up when you hear the honks of the cars behind you. this is when you realize that the traffic light changed and you were supposed to go but you were still in the middle of the road, admiring your boyfriend. you looked back onto the road and continued driving with a slight blush fanning your cheeks. after a while, donghyuck, who was looking outside the window, turned to you with a smirk plastered on his face. this gave you the feeling like he knew where you were going. the next thing he said confirmed your speculation. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU DIDN'T TELL ME WE WERE GOING TO DISNEYLAND!!" eyes wide with shock, you glanced at him then back to the road saying "IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A SURPRISE!!" with this, he just smiled and stared at you for a while before looking out the window again. you wondered what he was thinking but you dismissed the thought and just focused on driving.

you both just arrived at Disneyland and were at the entrance. after you paid for your tickets, donghyuck practically dragged you towards the fast food area. since it was near lunchtime, you both got some food. there was a wide variety of food being sold. there were hotdogs, cotton candy, popcorn, ice cream, spaghetti, pizza, and many more. you opted to buy different kinds of food to share later on. donghyuck got pizza and spaghetti while you got corn dogs and chicken. after you both basically devoured your food, you both decided to do the extreme rides later once you've digested the food. you suggested to go take pictures around.

you started off with taking pictures in front of the famous Disney castle. then proceeded taking pictures with the statues, with the mascots, and so on. after about a million pictures basically everywhere you and donghyuck were in line to ride the rollercoaster. your heart was pounding at an incredibly quick pace. you didn't know if it was from the adrenaline rushing your veins at the thought of riding a rollercoaster or because donghyuck was holding your hand, squeezing it every now and then, while talking to you about how he cried the first time he rode a rollercoaster when he was little. once you get to the front of the line, you feel like throwing up. even though you have enough experience with rollercoasters, every time you ride one feels like it's the first time again. donghyuck seems to sense your tension because he turned your body towards him. while his hands were on your arms, he looked into your eyes and said "we don't have to do this if you don't want to." his voice soothing but somehow filled with worry. you knew that the nervousness you were feeling now will fade away as quickly as it came so you just gave him a reassuring smile and said "no, i want to do this. i'm just a bit nervous." trying to avoid his gaze on your glowing red face. you both ride the rollercoaster then proceeded to ride more rides. occasionally stopping by to change clothes, eat some snacks, and try the other games. you both were having the time of your lives. at one point, while you were along the game section, you stopped to play the balloon darts game. the reason why you wanted to play was because the prize for second place was a big sun plushie. it reminded you of donghyuck so you wanted to win it for him. after about three failed attempts, donghyuck wanted to try so he did. unlike you, he was way better. out of five darts, he managed to pop four balloons,which means he won second place. when he got the plushie he gave it to you. taking it with both hands with a glum expression, you said "i wanted to win in for you" with a pout. he just chuckled at this and whole heartedly replied "it's okay, you're my sunshine. it's only fitting for you to get the sun. besides, i'm already the sun" with a playful tone in the end and a fake hair flip. in no time, it was nearly six in the evening, meaning the place was about to close for the night. so right when you go out through the exit of the vikings, which you both rode about five times in total, you locked your hand with his then took him to the ferris-wheel. thankfully, there were no people in line, so you led donghyuck into the cabin and quickly asked the staff a favor, if she could stop you both at the top. with a smile and a nod of her head, you quickly thanked her then proceeded to get into the cabin with donghyuck. you were both just laughing together when you finally reached the top and the mechanism stopped. donghyuck gave you a questioning look, probably piecing one and one together, figuring out you requested this. you only giggled in response. you quickly looked outside the window and as you get higher and higher, you excitedly said "hyuck! look at all those lights! aren't they pretty!?" while you were looking outside, his attention remained on you. he replied "yeah, so pretty" in the softest voice and a loving gaze. you turned to face him, surprised he was already staring at you. his eyes travelled from yours to your lips, slowly leaning closer and closer. you felt a pair of lips on yours and you closed your eyes, focusing on the emotion, especially the love, being shown through the gentle yet passionate touch of his lips. once you pulled away, he continued looking into your eyes and said "thank you. for this moment, for today, for everyday, especially for making my life a lot better by being with me." you couldn't help but to tear up a bit at his confession, so you just hugged him in return, giving off love and warmth. even though you weren't saying anything, somehow, donghyuck could understand everything you were trying to say.

you both head back to your shared apartment with him driving, partly because you were exhausted, the other part was because of one last surprise for him. while you were in the car you kept texting someone. donghyuck was wondering who you were texting so he asked you who it was. you only replied to him with a vague "you'll see" with a small smile plastered on your face.

once you got to the apartment, it was almost seven. you told him to wash up while you prepare dinner. he didn't argue and went straight to the shower. you knew he would take about 20 minutes in there so you quickly grabbed your phone and dialed donghyuck's mom. you know how much he loves his mother. he would often tell you stories of his childhood with his family and the conversations would often end with his talking about how he misses his family, especially his mother. he hasn't seen her in almost four months since his family lives in the country side, so you decided to surprise him with his entire family. you went down to the entrance of your apartment to greet his family then proceeded to go up together. by the time you get back, you sigh in relief when you realize that he was still in the shower. all of you quickly set the table, prepared the food, and added candle sticks in the cake you prepared the day before. as if on cue, as you all finished the preparations, donghyuck comes out of the shower, towel blocking is vision as he was trying to dry his hair. he heard noises when he was in the shower but dismissed it because he thought you were just being loud but when he finally looked up, his eyes filled with so much shock but with so much love, he ran towards his parents and embraced them tightly. then, he turned to his younger siblings and hugged them one by one. lastly, he turned to you with an affectionate smile then practically melted in your arms. you caressed the back of his head while saying "happy birthday sweetheart" in a soft and calming voice.

you all ate the food that his mother brought, of course leaving some behind for the next few weeks, and the food that you prepared. he has always missed his mother's cooking so when he finally got to eat her food, he couldn't even put his utensils down. he was eating as if it was his last meal, but it joyed you to see him eat so heartily. after dinner you brought out his cake. it was a nine-inch cake shaped like the sun. you asked his mother and some of his friends for some help beforehand with the dedication. you wanted the dedication to come from all the people he loved. the whole cake was filled with messages, mostly telling him to stay happy and healthy. donghyuck took some pictures to remember this and reminded himself to thank his friends later on. you put the candles in then lit them and asked donghyuck to make a wish. he looked st you with eyes that were sparkling and somehow his gaze was conveying a message. with that, he said "i already have everything i could ask for." his whole being filled with hope, happiness, and love. after he blew out the candles, you all spent time talking about what you've both been up to. donghyuck excitedly told them about your date today which made his younger siblings, and yourself, blush like a cherry red tomato. you were just glad that he was happy.

after some time, it was getting late and his family had to leave. you insisted on them staying the night but they insisted not to since they already booked a hotel and didn't want to intrude on your time together. in the end, they all left and you were alone with donghyuck under your covers, wrapped around each other's arms with his head on your chest. you stayed in that position, running your fingers through his hair, when he suddenly said "i love you, so much" barely above a whisper. no matter how much you've heard those words, your heart never failed to skip a beat and send butterflies in your stomach. you continued fanning through his hair, surprised how he didn't notice your heart beating rapidly. truth be told, he did in fact notice your quickening heartbeat, he just didn't feel the need to mention it as your words made him feel the same way. as soon as you said "i love you too, my duckie" it was as if someone was doing somersaults in his stomach. he is so in love with you and you are so in love with him. "mmm… what a day..." he said, smiling, while slowly drifting off to sleep. listening to his breathing somehow lulled you to sleep. the last thing on your mind was donghyuck and how he was your rock, your home, and, your full sun.

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jerusalismreview · 4 years

Photo

Stuck in quarantine, I make a video in which I get romantic with a spoon. I send it to my friends, one of whom tells me to check out the video poems of Adeena Karasick. Some online digging tells me Karasick is a Brooklyn-based poet, writer, performer, and thinker whose work tackles the fun and the real. She also happens to be on the line-up for Mekuvan, Jerusalism’s first online reading series. In a cool combo of fate and query, I interview her and ask more about what’s happening between the lines of her words.

When Adeena sends me an email, she calls me “sweets” and “babe.” Though we think about speaking on Zoom, our interview happens over email, which is to say—text. I don my best quasi-professional internet speak while Adeena skyrockets into my gmail, peppering her answers with emoticons and parentheticals, taking me inside and outside her answers in a slightly overlarge Arial font. Her I’s are lowercase, her proper nouns uppercase. Her signature is one lone, light gray “a.”

I go deep into Karasick’s online corpus. Soon I’m floating. Her virtual vocals hold words fused across mediums, embodying a world intimate with its own supposition of depth. Within this world is the explicit understanding that depth is about layers, and its meaning comes from the interaction of all things—poetry, politics, kabbala!—not nearly as disparate as we imagine. Her work reminds me of the internet itself: obsessed by its ever-updating form and devoted to the process of making image meet word.

In our interview, Adeena tells me as much, making sure to blow my mind with the theoretical underpinnings of her playful, sexy, serious work. She signs off on our correspondence with ; ))))))) and !!!!!!! and xxxxxxx. Though we’ve finished speaking for now, I find myself again looking at her work, mesmerized. An in to the infinite. Here are some of her thoughts on the matter.

—

Joelle Milman: The infinite abounds in your work. What is your relationship to ein sof?

Adeena Karasick: I like thinking about ways in which ein sof is where all possibility erupts; everything that has been and will be created is housed in a kinda blueprint of potentiality. I think this sense of potent play is crucial, opening up dialogue for new possibilities of reference, connection, an “infinite” unfolding of semantic, syntactic (political) possibilities.

In the Zohar it says, “all binding and union and wholeness are secreted in the secrecy / that cannot be grasped and cannot be known, / that includes the desire of all desires. // Infinity does not abide being known, / does not produce end or beginning./ Primordial Nothingness brought forth Beginning and End? Who is Beginning?… It produces End… But there, no end.” ;)

I guess you could say this sense of questioning and a sense of endless opening really interests me. Take for example, how transliterated ein (nothing) is homophonically connected to ayin (eye) through which we can envision anything. Or if one shifts the letters to ani (i), then we are between being and nothingness, endlessly re-presencing. I’m interested in navigating this space between visibility and invisibility, what is revealed, concealed, veiled unveiled through the flux of form, emanation, re-formation. Recognizing, of course, that in order for anything to be manifested there has to be a limit, a concealment. I adore this ex-static play of expansion and contraction, where everything hums with a kinda vertiginous, vibratory edge.

JM: Who is your muse?

AK: Abraham Abulafia, 13th C. Kabbalistic mystic.

JM: Your ew hybrid poetic work, Salomé, takes a misunderstood character and gives her a new story. What was it like to work with such a specific character, attached to particular historical narratives?

AK: Well, it always bothered me that within Christian mythology and entrenched in history by writers like Wilde, Gustave Flaubert, Mallarmé, artists such as Gustav Klimt, Gustave Moreau, and Aubrey Beardsley, Salomé was seen as yet another Jewish temptress/Christian killer (which is not so great for the Jews ;).

But, in fact, there isn’t any evidence to substantiate this claim. I did a whack of research and according to apocrypha and Josephus’s Antiquities, she came from Jewish royalty and there is no evidence she murdered John the Baptist or even danced for Herod. The only historical reference that [Herod’s wife] Herodias’s daughter’s name was Salomé is from Flavius Josephus, who makes no other claims about her—not that she danced for Herod, not that she demanded John’s head, but only that she went on to marry twice and live peacefully. The other apocryphal reference is that a daughter danced for Herod, which caused him to lose his mind and kill John the Baptist. Thus, the conflagrated Salomé that appears in the Wilde play, [Richard] Strauss opera and all subsequent productions, is an amalgamated construct. Along with Klezmer/jazz god Frank London, I embarked on a 7 year journey to set the record straight.

For the record, there are three women named Salomé in Jewish history: Salomé, daughter of Herodias and Herod II (circa 14-71 CE); Queen Salomé, her great-aunt (65 BCE-10 CE); and Salomé Alexandra (139-67 BCE). Her great-aunt, Salomé I, was the powerful sister and force behind Herod the Great, king of Judea and Second Temple rebuilder. Salomé Alexandra (also known as Shelomtzion) was one of only two women who reigned over Judea. I wanted my Salomé, Salomé of Valor (pun intended), to carry the weight of both her genetic lineage and the cultural heredity of her name, embodying the legacy and power of the women that came before her.

JM: Your recent work, COVID/ KAVOD, pays attention to these particular times and the words we have created around it. Can you tell me more about the piece?

AK: You know, I was sheltering at home with my daughter Safia Fiera (Sefira) in NYC, and wrote a Facebook post thinking about the power of words and names. I was increasingly obsessed with how COVID transliterated in Hebrew as Kavod כבוד, which translates to glory, honor, and respect. When we congratulate someone we say כל הכבוד – ‘all the honor’ (Good job!)— or close a letter with the word בכבוד which means ‘with respect.’ Yet, ironically, it’s also related to kaved “heavy.” And throughout Exodus, the presence of God in the tabernacle is symbolized by the word ‘Kavod’ (which is also represented by a cloud!). Through a 13th Century Kabbalistic lens, Kavod כבוד refers to Shekhinah, the female revealed aspect of God, which is symbolized by the lips, the mouth, the wound, the word: gates of entry, gates of transmission. AND – according to the Zohar [3296b], the CORONA (crown) of the phallus. And most astoundingly, KAVOD as a technical term within the sefirotic system emphasizes the distinction between the 1st vessel of light and the other 9 – COVID19.

Superstar dub poet/producer Lillian Allen contacted me and asked me to record my thoughts. She had it set to music with a DJ and a cello; launched on Spotify and CD Baby…crazy! It was one of those things, where you never know where things might lead, the synecdoche of the ever-so prescient spread?! Really makes one think about the viral nature of everything, i.e. memes—units of cultural energy that virally replicate themselves; how à la Korzybski / Burroughs, “Language IS a virus…

JM: You work in performance, video, text—but everything seems grounded in words. How do words play differently in different forms?

AK: All my work is dedicated to highlighting ways in which language and being are so intricately entwined; how we are formed and reformed through the language we use; how language’s physicality / materiality / sonic qualities infinitely re-create meaning and being. Playing between and within language’s visual and acoustic space, underscoring how it’s all so viscerally alive.

I love the differences between them [mediums] and I love ways that they feed off and expand the experience of one another.

JM: What is your relationship to the individual letter?

AK: Kabbalistically speaking, if the world was created through letters, every time we read or write or speak, we are in essence re-creating the world.

I love thinking about the way each letter rubs up against another letter, how that modulates the overall feel of the way a line or a text plays itself like a score; how it asks us to renegotiate meaning and being. How every letter in a way contains every other letter and how they themselves hover, erupt as sparks of light.

My recent work Aerotomania, which investigates how the airplane is structured like a language, exposes how the shape of the airplane is reminiscent of the letter Alef, the first letter of the Hebrew alphabet, symbol of infinite and contemporaneous beginnings.

It’s constructed from two Yods י, one above and one below, with a diagonal line, the Vav ו, between them, representing the higher world and the lower world, separating and connecting the two Yods. And through chambers of light rungs of life ærotically connecting higher and lower worlds, all brimming with interior struggle and yearning, hiddenness, and longing—

JM: Tell me more about what you find sexy. What is the erotic up to when it shows up in your work, and do you find it particularly intertwined with gender? If so, how and why?

AK: HA! What I find most sexy are witty mashups of entwined letters. Ways references wrap around each other, the ways letters brush up against and wind around each other—ways meaning erupts in unexpected ways.

To this end, my new work Aerotomania really focuses on the erotics of meaning production. According to Marshall McLuhan, “the airplane is an extension of the body.” So, with it I’m exploring not only how the airplane is structured like a language but an extension of the body, specifically metonymic of the female body; flying through clouds of data, through a sultry and amorous mapping of light, “shade,” shadow, highlighting the relationship of how language becomes a shape-shifting trickster; an ever-swirling palimpsest of spectral voices, textures, whispers and codes transporting us to sometimes unknown destinations; flying through a variety of zones, registers, soaring to higher and higher levels, leading to radically transformative possibilities of passion, pleasure, power and promise, as we negotiate loss and light; opening up new ways of seeing and being. THIS is sexy ; )

JM: I love it. I haven’t seen anything that approximates the video poetry you make and they’re awesome. When it comes to idea generation, do you start with the medium or the message? What is your editing process like?

Well, in media ecological terms, the medium is always massaging the message. I’m always interested in the way information reads and is transformed through multiple platforms; whether on a page or a stage, a tablet, computer, or movie screen.

Videopoetry as a medium allows me exquisite axes of entry into a virtual arena. There, not only can the materiality of language be exposed, but through the conflagration of image, music, voice, text, sound and animation, a ‘textatic’ slipperiness of meaning appears. Each piece, operating with its own structure, codes, logic, idioms, reminds us how meaning-making is always a praxis of palimpsest and dissemination, generating a contiguous infolding of meaning.

But to answer your question—in almost every case, I start with a text that I want to multimodally play with. For example, right now I’m working on a videopoem for a Salomé track. I have my text, the recording of it, with the music (composed and performed by Klezmer / Jazz god, Frank London), and now have to assess what aesthetic feel is going to auratically transport it. So unlike writing the poetry, where I see and hear and feel the words all simultaneously, making videos is usually sequential.

Though I do all my own pechakuchas, it literally takes a village to make the videopoems! I write the text, communicate my vision, but I don’t have a lot of the technical expertise—so each one is a loving and painstaking process collaborating with musicians, animators, editors. Textual editing process parallels this in that I am a ferociously compulsive editor, renegotiating every syntactic reference, line break, lexical choice. And even though I have so much respect for Ginsberg’s “first thought best thought,” everything goes through a crazy amount of editing and re-editing until the last possible moment.

JM: So much of your work is mash-up, combining elements from other texts be they theoretical, visual, or otherwise. What is it like to combine existing content and bring it into new forms?

If everything is inherently intertextual and archival, my work celebrates a kind of parsed play of laced socio-political-lingual cultural shards and fractures, highlighting how all is pulsing with palimpsested resonance. This then inherently asks one to revisit and recontextualize, reframe information and thereby see it in new ways.

For example, I’ve been working on an ongoing collaborative project with famed critic / weaver, Maria Damon, on a piece we call: “Intertextile: Text in Exile: Shmata Mash-Up A Jewette for Two Voices,” where we investigate the relationship between text and textile. The whole piece is marked by a kind of intertextatic syntacticism; as we weave meaning through found data, shattered matter, shredded fragments, through all that is proper, improper, impropriotous, riotous, simultaneously celebrating and questioning all that’s filthy and wrinkled and inside out, all that’s unfolded, soiled, sullied, un-rinsed and uncomfortable. And it’s this sense of exploration and reformation, through research, inquiry and play where one can explore the impossibility of the possible, the contingency of our finitude, our brokenness, excess and exuberance, within the fissures of being.

What’s it like? In a word: textatic ; )

JM: Your work has uncompromising trust in its own voice and self-representation. For us just getting started out here: do you have any advice on how to commit to and advocate for your work, particularly in a world not always eager to support emerging artists?

AK: Trends, aesthetics, modes, schools of thought come and go, in and out of vogue, and if I’ve learned anything over the years is that everything goes in cycles. Or to use McLuhan’s terminology, systems get enhanced, reversed, retrieved or obsolesced, and so it’s so important to just trust your own mind. Regardless of what seems to be the genre, the praxis, procedure, fashion of the moment, write what you want. Read, as much as you can, go to readings, start journals, perform at open mics, gather community and share ideas, share work. But it’s so important that you trust your own vision, and just sometimes shut it all out and just create your own unique powerful universe that you want to inhabit.

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subdivisi0ns · 7 years

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tagged by the lovely @britneyshakespeare to answer these 10 questions & come up with 10 of my own. thank you !! 💗

psa i wrote way too much please don’t read this. just skip to the questions at the end if i tagged you

1. What are 3 songs that mean something to you, and what do they mean?

that’s hard because i don’t usually find personal meanings in songs. i’m a lot more interested in what the song means to the artist who wrote it. but let’s see if i can think of some

-um. after all by david bowie was always Highly Relatable. like. prattling on & on waxing philosophical only to suddenly realize everything i said is wrong and don’t hate me and also now i’m having an existential crisis and i shouldn’t have started talking in the first place? M e

-when i was first getting into rush i was a big fan of Self Isolating To Cope and also i had no friends and was proud of it (bc if i couldn’t find a way to take pride in my [perceivedly] unchangeable flaws my entire self image would come crashing to the ground and that just wasn’t a good time . anyway). so the lines “nothing can survive in a vacuum / no one can exist all alone” from turn the page pissed me off. but now! now i have loads of friends and i feel legitimately cared about and i feel like i can comfortably reciprocate that and now when i hear that song i think you know what neil? you’re goddamn right.

-uh i s’pose i relate to another brick in the wall pt 3 which is not a good thing but. i dunno i really love being angrily in denial of needing any help whatsoever along to this song. it’s my flaw-pride anthem (don’t worry i don’t take it literally. it’s just fun in the moment)

-shit i know this said three but the one person who i relate to EVERY FUCKING SONG he’s ever put out is bill wurtz. never have i felt so understood than when i listen to bill wurtz’s music. god it’s the most uncanny feeling, i really really understand it a lot

ok i have to stop thinking of more . turns out a lot have meaning to me ive spent like an hour on this question alone Moving On

2. What’s your ideal self like?

. this was The Worst question to ask me because i can and will ramble on for hours given the opportunity

well i’d be able to execute my ideas, for one. instead of just having a half-baked - quarter-baked - fleeting concept with no real idea of how to achieve it. more specifically i want to be able to write songs. more more specifically i want to be able to write the music aspect of songs. i can’t do it. i dont fuckin know why i just can’t. but if i could i think i just might be content with life.

but that doesn’t mean there aren’t still things to improve. i wish i was funnier. i like my weird brand of humor/abstractity online but that’s hard to replicate in real life. i wish i was better at thinking on the spot. i wish my memory didn’t only retain stuff when it feels like it. i wish i was better at putting my thoughts into words, more concisely and accurately and effectively.

um i wish i didnt have executive function issues. like i wanna just do stuff and not have it take all the energy out of me. wish i had the energy to do it to begin with. wish i could keep up with socializing and not ignore people for hours/days because i can’t get myself to maintain conversation.

ok clearly this is leading down an endless tunnel of what i’d change so . i’ll just say my ideal self is a successful musician with a good social life but also an element of mystery and intrigue. my ideal self is just david bowie

3. Who, of all your family members (immediate or extended), do you think has had the most influence on you, for better or for worse?

my mom for a lot (a looooooot) of reasons but if i go into it this is gonna push it over the line from a tag game into a therapy session (if i havent crossed that line already)

4. What’s your main outlet of expression?

writing. journalling. fuckin , social media. actually yeah that more than anything. my Self is on display here if you look at my tumblr(s) my twitter(s) and my instagram(s) you’ve got a pretty goddamn decent picture of who i am

5. What was the first album you ever bought for yourself?

uh i mean i listen to most stuff off of youtube if i don’t already have it so like,,? i dunno. does itunes count? the first vinyl i ever got was wish you were here (for forty fuckin bucks god) but i paid with my aunt’s money so does that even count. i don’t know.

6. Do you like to go shopping?

depends on a lot of things. lately i’ve been in the mood to just get out of the damn house whenever possible (love being a high school dropout !) so the answer is pretty much yes anytime. but it really depends.

7. Kind of cliche but, if you could have dinner with any person, living or dead, who would you pick?

i wanna be the fourth person at the dinner with rush table. just to observe. i’d be terrified to actually have a conversation with any of my idols. okay but if i had to get over that fear i guess i’d pick..... bowie? todd? i don’t know this is hard. alex lifeson circa 197something so he can take me back to his place afterwards you pickin up what im puttin down

8. What TV show do you watch when you’re feeling stressed or low and you need a quick feel-better fix?

i don’t watch tv like ever not even in this case but i guess full house

9. What was the last intriguing conversation you had about?

everything my girlfriend said to me today (edit: yesterday but i did this last night) was great everything my girlfriend’s ever said to me was great

oh that didn’t answer the question at all i just realized. uh they were telling me about the star wars prequels (which i have not seen) and earlier we were having a very analytical conversation about a particularly interesting rush photo

also me & @swanky-trash were discussing our plans to take down trump and all the rest of those bastards while wearing jareth from labyrinth costumes and eating mushrooms. because it’s our destiny as clones separated at birth. yknow just life stuff

10. What’s something about yourself that you don’t think comes across as painfully obvious online, but is, in fact, in person?

shit are we at the end already? damn. i was enjoying this (can you tell).

okay here’s another one i could go on for 12 years about. but uh. i probably come across as way more perky irl? like my voice is all high pitched and i talk really fast and smile and laugh at everything and i have a whatever the opposite of monotone is voice. i don’t like that. i try to combat it online with the all-lowercase typing and shortening of words and omission of punctuation and that sort of thing. i think it’s worked. also i may be terrible at typing but i am WAY worse at speaking. i’m scatterbrained as hell and if i seem at all interesting or witty online that all goes to shit irl. also i can’t fucking talk to people who i only know in person? it just doesn’t work. thank god i have you guys

haaaa okay sorry for the rambling here are the questions

1. what’s the best day/one of the best days you’ve ever had?

2. how important is your social media presence to you?

3. what achievement are you proudest of?

4. describe your sense of humor.

5. is there anything you’re good at or like to do that people who don’t know you well probably wouldn’t expect?

6. what’s your most interesting family story?

7. favorite color palette?

8. what’s something that would be very “out of character” for you to do?

9. yknow that thing on twitter that’s like “pick 1 & rt for good luck” and the options are good grades, meet your idol, money, or crush texts you? which one would/did you pick and why?

10. what’s a song you either wish you’d written or feel like you could’ve written?

i tag @thetemplesofrush @thumbnailoak3 @swanky-trash @lavender-layne @realalexlifeson @davies-jones @goallines-and-musicrhymes @fruitthemed @graveyarding @cosmikdebris99 and anyone else who wants to do it and dont feel pressured to do it etc etc god i hope none of you actually read this whole thing i am so sorry

#diana i loved your questions esp the last one that was a good one #long post

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wiredeception · 7 years

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1OO IMPORTANT CHARACTER QUESTIONS

PART 1: THE BASICS

WHAT IS THEIR FULL NAME?

greyson dominic northwood.

WHERE AND WHEN WERE THEY BORN?

greyson was born in harlem, new york city on august 29th, 1992.

WHO ARE/WERE THEIR PARENTS? — names, occupations, personalities and other important details.

greyson is narissa knowles and vince northwood’s second born. narissa gabrielle knowles was born on november 22nd, 1967 in houston, texas to christopher and lenora knowles. she’s the third of four children and the second of two girls. growing up in a working class family wasn’t easy and for narissa it translated in having to give some of her dreams away in order to help the remaining family survive. with the death of christopher and her older brother, brandon, when she was roughly eighteen, and after her sister imani’s marriage a few months down the line, narissa chose to leave houston in search for a better life and more opportunities. fast-forward a few years, the woman had a stable life in harlem, new york, and while she never got to follow her dreams to the extent she wishes she had, she still got to do something she loved for a living. personality wise, narissa is one of the most kind-hearted souls anyone would get the chance to meet. she’s serious and strict when times call for it, and she doesn’t play any games when it regards important matters but, simultaneously, she’s also a sweet, funny woman who loves a good joke. she’s a charming woman who knows how to get her way around and knows what strings to pull in order to get what she wants but, above everything else, she’s a loving mother of five ( that is by far her biggest accomplishment ) and she always has a kind word to say when someone is in need of comfort. nowadays, she’s the owner of a skincare and cosmetology clinic, and she does some occasional work as a beautician. vince josiah northwood was born on march 3rd, 1966 in atlanta, georgia to josiah and destiny northwood, and he is the first born of two children. vince has no recollections of his mother for the woman divorced his father and left the family when his brother jeremiah was born, which meant vince was only two-years-old. growing up wasn’t easy, especially without a constant mother figure around the house, and often times vince was left to fend for himself and jeremiah. with a promise of a better life, he moved in with his grandparents when he was sixteen and from then on, he started working to support himself and his brother. when he turned eighteen, he moved from minnesota to new york city where he did a bunch of jobs before finding one that would pay enough for him to survive in a city as expensive as new york. he met narissa when he was twenty and from then on, he knew she was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. they never married but, to this day, he still calls the woman his wife. personality wise, vince is a jokester, a guy who loves life and enjoys to have a good laugh. it’s hard to catch him on a bad mood and he always seems to have a smile etched to his features, and when it comes to advice, there’s really no one better than the man to go to. he owns a couple bars throughout new york city and, to this day, he still works as a bartender on the first bar he bought in harlem.

DO THEY HAVE SIBLINGS? WHAT ARE/WERE THEY LIKE?

greyson has four siblings - three sisters and one brother. naomi lenora northwood was born on october 6th, 1989 and she’s the eldest of the northwood’s children. she’s a neurosurgeon at UCLA medical center and she’s the golden girl of the family. naomi is the first ever, out of the knowles and northwood’s to go to college and if that, by itself, wasn’t an accomplishment, she graduated with honors from yale university school of medicine. greyson was always close to his sister, perhaps because naomi always did her best to look after him, or perhaps because they just seem to get each other on a level no one else can. naomi is an intelligent, passion-driven woman who takes after her mother and is one of the most kind-hearted people one could ever meet. gianna makayla northwood was born on june 18th, 1994 and she’s the third born of the northwood’s. gianna is a hurricane of a woman, never settling for anything less than what she knows she deserves and, perhaps, that’s what leads her to be away from home more often than not. she currently resides in rome, after having finished her BA in fashion communication: communication and promotion at central saint martins, where she works at fendi. despite not seeing one another as often, gigi and grey have a really close relationship and there’s little they wouldn’t do for each other. gianna is a strong-willed, hard-working girl who, much like her dad, is hard to catch in a bad mood and, much like her mother, is incredibly compassionate and sweet. neah gabrielle northwood was born on february 26th, 1998 and she’s the fourth born of the northwood’s and the youngest of the northwood girls. with an unique personality and crazy ideas to spare, neah is unlike any of her siblings. she’s unpredictable in all kinds of ways, always doing things following her standards and expectations rather than the other’s. she’s a street-smart kind of girl, cultured enough to make you question just how much she knows about the different kinds of topics, and she’s, to put it simply, a healthy kind of crazy. she thinks outside the box and never conforms for what others establish. because she can be as reckless and as straight-forward as grey, their personalities tend to clash but for the most part, they get along just fine. neah resides in los angeles where she does occasional work at a museum while studying at UCLA school of theatre, film and television to become an actress. jason malik northwood was born on may 22nd, 2004 and he’s the youngest of the northwood’’s. jace is a kid who gets easily caught up on his hopes and dreams. he’s at that point where he feels like he can do whatever he wants without needing school to back him up or, in other words, he’s at a phase where he thinks he can just drop out and follow grey’s footsteps. he’s a sweet kid and besides resembling his father appearance wise, he also resembles the man when it comes to his personality : always smiling, always ready to help, always ready to burst out a joke and have a laugh. he’s still trying to figure it out for himself but he’s a good kid.

WHERE DO THEY LIVE NOW, AND WITH WHOM?

greyson is on the go more often than not, and due to his career, sometimes, it’s hard to say exactly where he lives but, when he’s not on tour or traveling for whatever reason, he resides in new york. if he’s working and going to the studio, he stays at his duplex in soho but if he doesn’t have to be in the city, he stays at his house in quogue. if you ask him, where he lives, he’ll often refer to those two places. atop of that, he owns a place in west hollywood, los angeles where he stays when he’s working in los angeles and he owns a house in st. james, barbados, too. he lives with his wife, leticia.

WHAT IS THEIR OCCUPATION?

greyson is a high-profile recording artist. he’s a r&b/urban/hip hop singer and producer.

TO WHICH SOCIAL CLASS DO THEY BELONG?

growing up he belonged to middle, working class and his financial status was not the best. it was moderate borderline stable but it could be better. nowadays, he belongs to upper class and he’s very wealthy.

DO THEY HAVE ANY ALLERGIES, DISEASES OR OTHER PHYSICAL WEAKNESSES?

he’s allergic to apples and dust mite, and he’s lactose intolerant. other than that, he has no physical or mental illnesses.

ARE THEY RIGHT- OR LEFT-HANDED?

grey is right-handed.

WHAT DOES THEIR VOICE SOUND LIKE?

he has a deep, gruff voice — ref.

WHAT WORDS AND/OR PHRASES DO THEY USE VERY FREQUENTLY?

he says “ facts ” a lot, same goes for “ nah ” amongst a few other catch phrases/words that are typical of someone who resides in new york.

WHAT DO THEY HAVE IN THEIR POCKETS?

usually, he has his keys, his wallet and his phone on his pockets.

DO THEY HAVE ANY QUIRKS, STRANGE MANNERISMS, ANNOYING HABITS OR OTHER DEFINING CHARACTERISTICS?

much like every human being, greyson has quirks and habits, some annoying, others more common. for one, when he’s in a situation that demands deep thought or, occasionally, if he’s impatient, he taps his fingers against a surface, creating what can be considered an annoying noise for some people. in the same line of thought, due to his career and absolute love for music, when he gets distracted, greyson often hums whatever tune is stuck on his mind then or, absentmindedly, sings bits and parts of a song he enjoys. when he’s in a situation that drives him anxious, nervous or scared, you’ll find him pacing around the room for his unable to stay still. likewise, if he’s nervous, he has the tendency of chewing on his lesser lip and nipping the inside of his cheeks. in a fight / argument, when he can’t equate how the other person believes they’re right, he tends to repeat the last of their words and, often times, bitterly laugh which kind of rubs off as condescending when in reality he’s just angered by what they said. if you leave a random piece of paper around and he happens to have a pen/pencil nearby, you can rest assured that he’ll doodle out your whole paper. he eats skittles and m&m’s by color and will, one hundred percent, freak and stress out if someone does something to disrupt that. when he gets an idea or thinks of some lyrics, he writes in code so no one else can decipher what he has written down. on that note, if he goes to a meeting or doing something work related, he carries a notebook with him. unless it’s a formal e-mail or document, grey will not use capital letters... he doesn’t know why but they annoy the hell out of him and that’s why, unless autocorrect strikes, he types everything in lowercase. when crossing the road, he always looks left-right-left instead of right-left-right like most americans - this is a result of having lived in london for a year. when taking notes of something he, often, reads the first line left to right ( as everyone else does ) but then writes the second line right to left aka backwards, creating a zig zag pattern. that also means he can read backwards or, otherwise called, mirrored-writing the same way he can read normal writing.

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION INCLUDING HEIGHT, WEIGHT, NATIONALITY, ETHNICITY, HAIR AND EYE COLOR, CLOTHING STYLE, ANY TATTOOS, SCARS OR OTHER DISTINGUISH MARKS.

grey is 6′3″ ( 192cm ) and his weight oscillates between 178lbs and 188lbs ( 81kg - 85kg ). he was born in harlem, new york city meaning his nationality is american and his ethnicity is afro-barbadian and afro-american. he has raven black hair which he either styles into a braided ponytail or two cornrows, and his eyes are a dark shade of brown. grey’s clothing style varies a lot - he doesn’t follow trends, he wears what he’s comfortable with and what he likes. his wardrobe include a lot of jackets and coats, from patch-work to custom made, denim to leather, longer coats to bomber jackets and the likes, as well as a lot of vintage and band tees, and hoodies. he likes needles’ track pants but he also likes black skinny jeans and your regular vintage blue jeans. he sticks to jordans, vans and adidas for the shoes, and occasionally he’ll wear designer boots or gucci sneakers. his style is chameleonic and his outfits, silhouettes and, even, colorways change and develop at a maddening fast pace. he has a scar on his left cheek and a birthmark inside of his left wrist, other than those there’s your occasional mole or freckle scattered through his body. he does have some tattoos ; he has ALT tattooed behind his ear which is the name of his first EP, the one that catapulted his career, and he has the word YLOHNU ( unholy backwards ) tattooed on the outer side of his left wrist. on the inside of his left arm, positioned where it’d be considered the inside of the elbow, he has LONDON and NEW YORK in uppercase, forming an upper arch, and forming a lower arch, he has TOKYO and LOS ANGELES also in uppercase - the four main cities that helped with him get where he is today. along his right hipbone, he has off the maps no hidden grids, i’m fleeing which was taken out of one of his songs from his latest album and is one of his favorite lyrics he ever wrote/sung. he has a blacklight tattoo saying i solemnly swear that i’m up to no good along with some footsteps on the inside of his right wrist. in white ink, and below his left pectoral, he has neah’s heartbeat and on his left ankle he has a small compass tattoo pointing north. on the side of his index finger from his right hand, he has a small rose ( his mother’s favorite flower ) and on the inside of his left wrist, he has VENI. VIDI. VICI. tattooed in uppercase. on his ring finger, he has the coordinates to where he and leticia got married tattooed in bold font. on very small scale/font, he has the quote i can be changed by what happens to me but i refuse to be reduced by it split in three parts on the right side of his ribcage.

PART 2: GROWING UP

HOW WOULD THEY DESCRIBE THEIR CHILDHOOD IN GENERAL?

greyson didn’t grow up with the most money or getting everything he wanted with a snap of his fingers but he grew up with one thing that, for him, is the most important : parents who were always there, no matter what. narissa and vince always worked their heads off to provide to their children and give them a stable life, but they were always present parents. they were there for every single one of naomi’s school plays, they were there when grey had his baseball games and, most importantly, they were always there with a kind word and good advice, to support in everything they did, every step of the way. so he would describe his childhood as a really good one, despite everything, because it helped him build the personality and taught him the values and morals he has today.

WHAT IS THEIR EARLIEST MEMORY?

a family holiday when he was around three years old, neah and jason weren’t born, obviously, so it was just his parents and his two sisters. gianna barely knew how to walk and naomi had been begging their parents over and over again to switch the warm, nice beaches for a colder holiday destination so vince and narissa took them to alaska. it was the first time grey saw northern lights and the first time he experienced such a different environment from what he knew as a toddler who was born in new york. ever since then, alaska has always held a special place in his heart and to this day, he’s in awe with that place.

HOW MUCH SCHOOLING HAVE THEY HAD?

greyson completed and graduated from high school.

DID THEY ENJOY SCHOOL?

no, he never did. going to classes made him feel like he was wasting his time because no one within that building believed he was capable of making something out of himself and doing what he wanted. greyson always dreamt too big compared to other children and in his school that wasn’t seen with good eyes, especially because his love for arts and music, in specific, often meant he disregarded the “ important ” subjects they had at school. it didn’t help that his friends didn’t attend to the same school he did so it was altogether a space that grey despised.

WHERE DID THEY LEARN MOST OF THEIR SKILLS AND OTHER ABILITIES?

literacy wise, he has to, in part anyway, thank school for it. but most of his artistic skills and technical skills were self-taught or he learned through someone in the hood who spent their days creating new stuff. grey is naturally a very artsy and creative person so it’s always been easy for him to learn and develop his skills. he’s also a very curious, hands-on person so he’s always asked a lot of questions and sought after more info that he was interested on. his communication skills have always been on point since a kid and perhaps due to the environment he grew up in, he has always been at ease when it regards meeting new people and being sociable - he’s an extrovert. what he couldn’t learn from the “ streets ”, he tried to look for in books - and his interest in those comes one hundred percent from his sister naomi who always pushed and nudged so he read more in order to develop his already curious, imaginative mind. altogether, he’s an autodidact and a street smart kind of guy rather than your intellectual person, and that’s where he got his skills and abilities from.

WHILE GROWING UP, DID THEY HAVE ANY ROLE MODELS?

his parents and naomi have always been role models and people he looked up to. artistically, he looked up to prince, michael jackson, pharrell williams, tupac, dr. dre, biggie and the likes. they all worked as inspiration for him to pursue his dreams and never let anyone’s doubts keep him from pushing through and go after what he wanted.

AS A CHILD, WHAT DID THEY WANT TO BE WHEN THEY GREW UP?

grey has always been sure he would become an artist and be affiliated with the music industry. even as a child, there was nothing he wanted more than to become a successful recording artist and possibly work within other “fields” of the music industry such as production.

AS A CHILD, WHAT WERE THEIR FAVORITE ACTIVITIES?

playing basketball outside was one of them, for sure. he loved playing baseball and he was fairly good at it too which was why his parents had him playing on a local baseball team for kids. other than that, you could catch grey rapping around with older kids or doing some graffiti on some abandoned house’s walls. he loved reading and even as a kid, he loved writing, be it songs or poems or loose text. he preferred to be outside than in the house, whether it meant being with a large group of people, messing around, or by himself, creating some beats or doodling something on a notebook.

AS A CHILD, WHAT KINDS OF PERSONALITY TRAITS DID THEY DISPLAY?

grey was a curious child who was clearly far ahead of the other kids on an artistic level. he was artsy and creative, always very ambitious rather than a dreamer as most would describe him, and he was always very sure of himself without being arrogant or cocky. he had a healthy amount of confidence. as a child, he always had a smile on and he was rather funny and friendly, always very sociable and kind. stubborn as hell and borderline arrogant if someone got on his nerves, but for the most part, he was always very charming and very amiable.

AS A CHILD, WERE THEY POPULAR? WHO WERE THEIR FRIENDS, AND WHAT WERE THEY LIKE? WHEN AND WITH WHOM WAS THEIR FIRST KISS?

unlike most kids, he never cared for popularity or school status quo. he just wanted to do himself and be happy with it, whether it meant having a dozen of people poking fun of his interesting choice of a wardrobe or having another dozen following him around because of his ‘i give no fucks’ attitude. he’s always been genuine, he’s always been himself and that’s far more important to him than any other label. labels are for clothes, not for human beings, as he tends to say even these days. in consequence to being rather different, grey didn’t have that many friends at school - he had acquaintances and classmates but his real friends attended other schools. he always got along with people who were slightly older than him and he always favored people with strong personalities who pushed and tugged and helped him grow. he preferred people who would have a differing opinion and fight for it than someone who would agree with everything he said, and he preferred those who were considered a healthy kind of crazy and who dreamed too high, than those who settled for nothing. he was seven when he had his first kiss but seeing as it was some childs play, grey considers his first actual kiss to have happened when he was twelve and it was with one of naomi’s best friend’s, kerry who later moved away with her parents to ohio.

WHEN AND WITH THOM DID THEY LOST THEIR VIRGINITY?

he lost his virginity when he was around fifteen to his girlfriend from then.

PART 3: PAST INFLUENCES

WHAT DO THEY CONSIDER THE MOST IMPORTANT EVENT OF THEIR LIFE SO FAR?

on a professional level, it was definitely getting his record deal but on a personal, and more in-depth/extending to his overall life, level, it was getting married to leticia.

WHO HAS HAD THE MOST INFLUENCE ON THEM?

if we’re talking on an overall level, it’s definitely his mother, his sister naomi, leticia, jordan and olivia. if we’re talking on a professional level, it’s his manager ella, jordan and nadia.

WHAT DO THEY CONSIDER THEIR GREATEST ACHIEVEMENT?

his career, where he stands... getting to do what he does and getting that much recognition for it is an achievement altogether.

WHAT IS THEIR GREATEST REGRET?

there are a few... on a professional level, it’s the fact he allowed his label and primary team to influence him and change his vision, therefore resulting in a mainstream album he’s not half as happy about nowadays. on a personal level, it’s how he wasn’t there for neah when she needed him and couldn’t see the underlying issues she was battling with back in the day and, still on a personal level, having told letty and allow her to think that the first time they slept together meant nothing to him because he only saw her as a friend when in reality, she already meant much more to him.

WHAT IS THE MOST EVIL THING THEY HAVE EVER DONE?

grey isn’t really a person who would resort to evil plans as a response to a problem he might have so there’s not particular evil thing he has ever done.

DO THEY HAVE A CRIMINAL RECORD OF ANY KIND?

his criminal record is clean.

WHAT WAS THE TIME THEY WERE MOST FRIGHTENED?

there were two times — the day he released his first song for he couldn’t be sure of how people would react and the first time he stepped on stage to perform.

WHAT WAS THE MOST EMBARRASSING THING THAT EVER HAPPENED TO THEM?

it takes a lot for someone or something to embarrass grey so despite there being some interesting recollections, he’s not necessarily sure any of them qualify as a real embarrassing moment. there’s moment he now laughs about but that back then wasn’t really as funny and it was borderline embarrassing - during a live performance for one of those television shows, he can’t recall the name now, he was jumping around and somehow slipped and fell off stage. everyone was more worried about his sprained ankle and, possibly, broken foot than how embarrassing it was.

IF THEY COULD CHANGE ONE THING FROM THEIR PAST, WHAT WOULD IT BE AND WHY?

regardless of how things might have gone and how some mistakes have been made, grey believes changing something from his past would also affect the way his life is now, in the present, therefore he wouldn’t change a thing. he made his decisions, some bad and others not so bad, and they shaped him into who he is today.

WHAT IS THEIR BEST MEMORY?

right now, it’s hands down the day he got married to leticia.

WHAT IS THEIR WORST MEMORY?

december 22nd, 2015 — he was doing one of the shows from his debut tour when he received a call from his mother, full on sobbing, because neah had been hospitalized due to an oxycodone overdose.

PART 4: BELIEFS & OPINIONS

ARE THEY OPTIMISTIC OR PESSIMISTIC?

grey is a realist - he’s optimistic when he feels and believes he can be without ever surpassing the limits or feeding into expectations and hopes he doesn’t believe will turn out to be true. he’s borderline pessimistic when he’s feeling down but he always sees clarity at the end of the day.

WHAT ARE THEIR GREATEST FEARS?

perhaps, losing himself. he hates the thought of losing his authenticity and how genuine he is along the way, the thought of his life changes impacting him in such way that he’d feel as though he has lost touch with his very own character.

WHAT ARE THEIR RELIGIOUS VIEWS?

despite growing up in a christian household, grey was never imposed any kind of religious views ( or any kind of views ) and with the years, he’s grown to be a person with faith and who does believe there is some sort of higher power, some kind of god, but he doesn’t limit it to one religion or one god. he doesn’t really believe there’s a right kind of religion or one that’s better than other. he’s agnostic but, despite it, he respects everyone’s own religious views and can lead a conversation on the topic without constantly knocking down each and every single point people with different perspectives than his make.

WHAT ARE THEIR POLITICAL VIEWS?

grey believes in a democratic world where everyone is equal and everyone has the same rights notwithstanding of race, gender, sexuality or religious views. he believes in a world that’s fair for everyone, with plans and ideas that will benefit everyone. that’s exactly why, these days he refrains from commenting or engaging in discussions about it because, in his eyes, there’s no one fighting for equality. especially not these days with how and where his country stands.

WHAT ARE THEIR VIEWS ON SEX?

he’s pro-sex. he’s had his fair share of hookups throughout his teen years and along the first years of his career, he’s had relationships purely based on the sexual benefits and he’s had a lengthy list of one offs and he has no issues whatsoever admitting to it. he’s also had serious, monogamous relationships and he’s obviously married now so he’s in one of those, and when establishing a comparison between no strings attached and sex in a relationship, grey can safely say the later is a whole different experience in a whole ‘nother level. sex is better with the person you’re in love with, the person who knows you better than anyone and with whom you share every other part of your life. when it regards the topic, and above everything else, grey believes sex should stop being a tabu-subject and start being something everyone openly talks about considering it’s not any kind of crime and there are no reasons whatsoever for it to ever be muffled and treated as tabu nowadays.

WOULD THEY BE ABLE TO KILL? UNDER WHAT CIRCUMSTANCE WOULD THEY FIND KILLING ACCEPTABLE OR UNACCEPTABLE?

they say we never know what we’re capable of unless we’re driven to the extreme so whereas the immediate answer would be no, under certain circumstances, such a death or life situation or if someone he loves was in danger, the answer turns to perhaps. however, the remaining answer stands - grey never finds killing acceptable. taking a human life, whether what they did was wrong or not, could never be deemed acceptable and it’s not up for another human being to play god and choose when to end someone else’s life. that being said, he believes there are better punishments and better solutions than death and yes, he is anti death penalti.

IN THEIR OPINION, WHAT IS THE MOST EVIL THING ANY HUMAN BEING COULD DO?

above everything, he finds there are so many condemning actions out there, so many evil, straight up wrong things human beings would do. he despises the thought of a person purposely inflicting pain in another (or another living being) be it by killing them, by being emotionally abusive or physically abusive, by raping or harassing them, by being judgmental or misogynistic or ableist or racist or xenophobic or homophobic or transphobic or the likes... for him that’s straight up evil, and he makes no distinction between what’s more or less evil — those are all awful.

DO THEY BELIEVE IN THE EXISTENCE OF SOUL MATES AND/OR TRUE LOVE?

he didn’t until a few good months ago, on soul mates anyway, but ever since his relationship with leticia blossomed into what it is today, he stopped being so skeptical and started believing soul mates do exist ; she’s his. he’s always believed in true love, in a great part due to his parents, and now due to his and letty’s own relationship.

WHAT DO THEY BELIEVE MAKES A SUCCESSFUL LIFE?

achieving your own dreams and goals, whether that’s becoming a world famous actress, a renown athlete or the best cleaning lady out there. grey believes success much like happiness comes from within, that it comes from following a path you trace for yourself and one you’re proud of. he believes doing what you love in life, maintaining good relationships and being at peace with yourself and in control of your life are what make a life successful.

HOW HONEST ARE THEY ABOUT THEIR THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS?

one hundred percent. greyson isn’t one for hushed tones or keeping to himself. he’s outspoken and says what he thinks and feels, when he thinks it and feels it, with little worries of how that might rub across or how it might make him look like. if he doesn’t like someone, he’ll straight up tell them. if he thinks someone is wrong, he’ll express his opinion and it’s a lot like this for the remaining topics and things. he’s not blunt to the point of being hurtful though, he tries to think things through and articulate it in a way where it won’t entirely shatter someone, but he’s blunt enough not to bottle things up. partly, grey believes his honesty about every part of his life is what keeps him sane in a world full of lies.

DO THEY HAVE ANY BIASES OR PREJUDICES?

no, grey has felt biases and prejudice in his own skin so he’d never be able to nourish such awful, hurtful thoughts and ideas towards someone else. as he grew up into the man he is today, he’s always tried to intervene and help causes that help those who have, too, suffered from biases and prejudices and who do not have the same privilege some others do.

IS THERE ANYTHING THEY ABSOLUTELY REFUSE TO DO UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES? WHY DO THEY REFUSE TO DO IT?

to be anything other than genuine. he could engage in a dozen questionable schemes or be asked to do some crazy, illegal thing for a friend and he’d comply with it but he could never, under any circumstances, not be true to himself or be anything less than authentic.

WHO OR WHAT, IF ANYTHING, WOULD THEY GO TO EXTREMES FOR?

leticia, his parents and siblings, jordan and olivia.

PART 5: RELATIONSHIPS W/OTHERS

IN GENERAL, HOW DO THEY TREAT OTHERS? DOES THEIR TREATMENT CHANGE DEPENDING ON HOW WELL THEY KNOW THEM, AND IF SO, HOW?

greyson was taught to treat everyone with respect until they give him a reason not to do so. there’s obviously a difference to how he treats strangers, whether they’re fans or not, to how he treats friends and family. he can be himself entirely around his family and friends, no matter how crazy or how weird he might get, he can open up to them and be grey, the normal guy. when he’s out, people treat him as northwood, the world wide known singer so he acts accordingly. he’s always polite with everyone though, and when it comes to fans, he does his best to be chill with them too.

WHO IS THE MOST IMPORTANT PERSON IN THEIR LIFE?

right now, it’s by far, leticia, his wife. she’s his world and his number one priority.

WHO IS THE PERSON THEY RESPECT THE MOST, AND WHY?

there are, at least, four people other than his parents that he respects a whole lot. olivia, for who she turned out to be against all odds and expectations, for never giving up her dreams and for being the person and the friend she is today. jordan, for all the rough patches thrown his way and how he handled them without ever being less authentic and without ever losing his drive to be better. ella, for being a total boss independently of all the people doubting her and everyone she found in the industry who put her down and lastly, and most importantly, leticia ; for everything she is, for the person she is and how she chooses to deal with everything thrown her way, for helping him become the person he is and always being there for him, for adjusting to his crazy schedules without complaints and for a million other reasons.

WHO ARE THEIR FRIENDS? DO THEY HAVE A BEST FRIEND?

grey is lucky to say he has a good amount of really, really good friends but his absolute best friends are jordan thompson and olivia laurent.

DO THEY HAVE A SPOUSE OR SIGNIFICANT OTHER?

he’s married to leticia evans northwood.

HAVE THEY EVER BEEN IN LOVE?

he has been in love several times, in different ways but on a romantic level, he has been in love three times - if the first time can be considered. he had a skinny love relationship when his career kicked off and high school ended, and back then he totally thought he was head over heels in love - experience and life have him thinking otherwise now. he has been in love in a later relationship but it was a love that was a weirdly balanced mixture, seeing as it was more platonic than anything else, and he’s in love now, with his wife, and it’s maybe the first time he’s feeling things so deeply and is finally realizing what it means to be in love with someone.

HOW CLOSE ARE THEY TO THEIR FAMILY?

really close ; the relationships vary between them, some with stronger bonds than others, but regardless, grey loves his family to death and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for them.

HAVE THEY STARTED THEIR OWN FAMILY? IF SO, DESCRIBE IT. IF NOT, DO THEY WANT TO?

if we’re talking full on family with kids and everything, no. if we’re talking family as in getting married, yes. regardless, grey wants kids in the future, he’s not sure when he’ll feel ready for it or when it will happen but he’s sure he wants to have children of his own and really get his own family with his wife.

WHO WOULD THEY TURN TO IF THEY WERE IN DESPERATE NEED OF HELP?

depending on the situation he needed help with, it really resumes to six people — vince, narissa, leticia, naomi, jordan and olivia.

DO THEY TRUST ANYONE TO PROTECT THEM? WHO AND WHY?

there are some people he trusts to protect him and his interests, in fact. his parents and his siblings will always protect him from any harm the best way possible, as would jordan and olivia. ella and nadia would always look out for his career and protect it at any costs, as would his remaining team. and then... then he’s one hundred percent sure, leticia will always have his back and will always protect him, no matter what happens.

IF THEY DIED OR WENT MISSING, WHO WOULD MISS THEM?

he knows for a fact his family would, his friends and second-family ( aka his team ) would and, perhaps, above anyone else, his wife would.

WHO IS THE PERSON THEY DESPISE THE MOST, AND WHY?

grey doesn’t really despise anyone, he has no time for that kind of negativity. he likes to keep a positive energy surrounding him so in his life there are people he loves and cherishes, and people who have crossed paths with him because they were meant to so he could learn something from them, and despite it having ended in an unfortunate way, he holds no grudges against them. they’re just indifferent.

DO THEY TEND TO ARGUE WITH PEOPLE, OR AVOID CONFLICT?

if there’s one thing that’s incredibly difficult to do, is triggering greyson and ticking off his mercurial temper. if something is wrong, he’s a very hands-on person and looks to solve the predicament by confronting the person or people in question and having a conversation ; he’s not one to avoid conflict and bottle things in, but he’s also not one to trigger an argument over the smallest of the things.

DO THEY TEND TO TAKE ON LEADERSHIP ROLES IN SOCIAL SITUATIONS?

sort of, it’s really a circumstance/occasion dependent question. in everything he does, however, greyson is more of a leader than a follower so it’s in his nature to lead a conversation and keep it flowing for one. the same way it’s in him to take the leadership role and quickly concoct a plan / solution for a situation should it be needed.

DO THEY LIKE INTERACTING WITH LARGE GROUPS OF PEOPLE? WHY OR WHY NOT?

on top of being a true extrovert, grey has always been a party animal and a social butterfly. he loves interacting with people, whether they’re new or they’ve known each other for years. he loves learning from them, hearing their stories and their struggles, hearing their battles and achievements, growing with them. in part, it’s what inspires his art and feeds his soul. so be it large groups of people or smaller ones, grey has no problems socializing and interacting with them.

DO THEY CARE WHAT OTHERS THINK OF THEM?

ever since he was a child, greyson never gave a damn about what others made of himself. he knows who he is and what he strives for, he’s in touch with himself in every level and he’s confident on the person he has turned to be, so he couldn’t care less what other people think of him in general.

PART 6: LIKES & DISLIKES

WHAT ARE THEIR FAVORITE HOBBIES AND PAST TIMES?

greyson doesn’t lead the average life and thus, that translates into him not having as much time as he’d like. when he does have free time, he enjoys doing normal activities and step out of the box. for one, he doesn’t song-write or creates music-related stuff nearly as much, he saves that for work. free time means time with friends and family, and especially his wife. he loves traveling and getting to know new cultures and places, he loves drawing and, lately, he’s been playing around with sculptures and the likes. he loves, loves, loves reading a good book and watching a good movie. if he has the time, he likes attending to basketball, baseball or even american football games - he enjoys watching sports - or he likes to go and play some basketball or baseball with friends, or even do some boxing. he loves going to museums and art galleries, as well as photography and any fashion-related events. anything art related, in general, he loves. it all depends on his mood for the day.

WHAT IS THEIR MOST TREASURED POSSESSION?

his quogue’s house in general but, especially, his recording studio in that house for it’s where he keeps everything that he’s achieved in his career, as well as it is where he works in new music and overall ideas.

WHAT IS THEIR FAVORITE COLOR?

his favorite color is funnily enough light grey.

WHAT IS THEIR FAVORITE FOOD?

if you told him to choose one favorite dish right now, he would say chow mein. in general, however, he is very much into asian cuisine and he would say chinese cuisine - any of the eight cuisines within it - is his absolute favorite.

WHAT, IF ANYTHING, DO THEY LIKE TO READ?

when he reads, which sadly isn’t often due to his lack of time, greyson has no preference. he reads anything from hemingway to j.k. rowling down to stephen king. it really depends on what he has with him to read ; as long as it’s a really good book that allows him to immerse in a whole new world, grey doesn’t care if it’s sci-fi or if it’s a romance. occasionally, he likes reading biographies on people he appreciates.

WHAT IS THEIR IDEA OF GOOD ENTERTAINMENT?

anything art related, be it attending to a concert or going to the movies, visiting a museum/art gallery or attending a fashion show, or even going to see some kind of play. greyson loves art and he finds it’s a really good way to expand your mind and knowledge, as well as it being a good way to feeding your creativity. overall, for him the idea of good entertainment revolves around doing something that will make him happy.

DO THEY SMOKE, DRINK OR USE DRUGS? IF SO, WHY? DO THEY WANT TO QUIT?

grey does smoke ; until a few years ago, he was big on cigarettes, especially because he found they eased him when he was overly stressed, but these days he doesn’t smoke nearly as much, nor does he find himself reaching for his pack of cigs as much. in situations of extreme stress, the nicotine calms him down and helps staying centered and focused. quitting is not something on his mind, especially because he doesn’t smoke half as much, but if it eventually happens, he chooses to do so, he doesn’t think he’d have a hard time doing so. as for drinking, he does it socially and in general, not to a point where he’s plastered, unless of course, he’s out celebrating something. he used to do lean and lsd, especially during the beginning of his career, but he has quit doing so ever since because as he grew into who he is, he came to realize he didn’t need to mess with heavier stuff. he does, however, still smoke weed, especially when he’s working on new music or he’s looking for a way to completely ease himself of any worries that are work-related or a creativity block. weed helps his creativity flow all in all, it gives him the last push he needs to really get into his work. he rarely uses it if he’s not working / creating something, though.

HOW DO THEY SPEND A TYPICAL SATURDAY NIGHT?

greyson is not, by any means, a fan of routines ; they drain the fun out of everything, in his opinion. therefore, it’s not a surprise or shock that he doesn’t have a typical way to spend a saturday. sometimes he might be on the stage doing a performance, others he might be attending to some fashion show or checking an art installment, others he might be going to a movie premiere or he might be in the studio working. he might be home with his wife, doing whatever they feel like, or he might be enjoying a night out with her and close friends. it all depends on where he is and what he / the ones around him, feel like too.

WHAT MAKES THEM LAUGH?

there are some things that can get a laugh out of him ; sitcoms like f.r.i.e.n.d.s, brooklyn nine-nine or the fresh prince of bel-air, often get a laugh out of him. dave chappelle’s stand up comedy shows, as well as some other comedians, get a laugh out of him. funny jokes and some jesting comments usually amuse him and get a laugh out of him. likewise, funny pet videos and funny photos of pets usually do it for him and when little kids saying something really funny all absentmindedly and without realizing it, he gets amused and laughs too. it’s not hard to make grey laugh, really.

WHAT, IF ANYTHING, SHOCK OR OFFENDS THEM?

frankly, greyson has seen so much throughout his life that nothing ever seems to shock him anymore. however, he can’t say some sad events occurring in the world, no matter how expected they should be by now, don’t shock him. terrorist attacks, sudden deaths, questionable events ( like the current president’s election for one ) still shock him in the worst of the ways. as for offending him... it takes a great deal of effort to manage to do so? you’d have to insult someone he’s really close to in order to offend him, but at the same time, you’d be more so crossing the line and angering him. if it comes from someone he cares about deeply, insinuating certain things about him, doubting him or implying he’s lying and just overall being disrespectful, gets to him and offends him.

WHAT WOULD THEY DO IF THEY HAD INSOMNIA AND HAD TO FIND SOMETHING TO DO TO AMUSE THEMSELVES?

if he was feeling creative, he’d head to his studio and work some - be it on lyrics or just some beats, or by doing some planning and answering some work e-mails and reviewing schedules and the likes. if he was frustrated, he’d head to the gym and workout, probably do some boxing to get rid of it and, possibly, tire himself out. if he was drained out, he would just watch a good movie or catch up on some show on telly or netflix.

HOW DO THEY DEAL WITH STRESS?

whereas at the beginning of his career he used to always be overwhelmed, throughout the years greyson has learned to keep things at bay and work things out by maintaining his stress levels to a minimum. he’s insanely organized even though it doesn’t rub across that way, he has his schedule very, very well planned and he keeps all important memos, meetings, events and dates on his phone’s / laptop’s calendar so he’s always in sync with everything going around him. each night before going to bed, he goes through his schedule for the following day so he knows what he’ll have to face the next morning, and each morning, after morning routine and breakfast, he checks his e-mail, texts and so forth in order to see if he needs to add anything to his schedule. on top of that, he has nadia and ella who help him massively at keeping schedules organized and who help him working everything out so he makes it on time to wherever he needs to go. being so organized and keeping a calculated schedule, as well as developing these habits, help him keeping the stress at bay. as for impromptu stress, incoming from situations that weren’t predictable, if possible greyson likes to talk it out and find a way to work things out, if not he can always go for a walk or a jog to clear his mind, and take fifteen minutes to press a little pause when everything gets too much. he’s really good at managing stress by now.

ARE THEY SPONTANEOUS OR DO THEY ALWAYS NEED A PLAN?

he’s a spontaneous person when it comes to personal matters, he’s mercurial and can come up with new ideas and suggestions of what to do on the spot but when it comes to work, he’d rather have, what he likes to call, game plan. as a really organized person, greyson likes to have a vision and see how things will go ; he likes to know and prepare himself for how it’ll play out. so he’s an in-between of both. he throws some spontaneity into everything he does but he doesn’t mind having a plan just in case and so he’ll know how it’ll play out and how it won’t backfire.

WHAT ARE THEIR PET PEEVES?

he hates, with a burning passion, when people interrupt others and don’t let them finish what they were saying / explain what they wished to do. it drives him insane when people do it because he can’t understand why or how cutting someone off and possibly triggering a fight by doing so, would be better than listening and working things out. likewise, he can’t stand when people put words on his mouth and/or act all righteous when they’re in the wrong. following the topic, he despises when people talk over others and when they act patronizing or passive-aggressive. he hates when people chew with their mouth open, he finds it really really gross, and when people slurp their drinks. he doesn’t like when people are fake/feigning to be someone else, it bothers him when he can clearly see they’re lying in order to seem cool in someone else’s eyes. it annoys him beyond words when people don’t cover their mouths when coughing or sneezing and people who, besides taking up the whole sidewalk, are incredibly slow and stop in the middle of it out of nowhere. he hates when he’s lunching/brunching/having dinner with someone and they’re more interested in the phone than the world around them. it drives him mad when people show no respect for other’s opinions, make a big deal out of nothing and believe everything they read/hear. additionally, he can’t stand people with no hygiene and when people continue arguing even after being proved wrong.

PART 7: SELF IMAGES & OTHER

DESCRIBE THE ROUTINE OF A NORMAL DAY FOR THEM. HOW DO THEY FEEL WHEN THIS ROUTINE IS DISRUPTED?

to begin with, grey’s definition of a normal day is not the same as most people. in fact, he doesn’t have any kind of routine, seeing as he leads a very different lifestyle. either way, he loves the fact he doesn’t have a routine and he loves how he doesn’t have to do the same thing every single day. he loves the unstable, hectic schedule, he loves the rush and adrenaline. all in all, greyson was born to live and lead the lifestyle he does.

WHAT IS THEIR GREATEST STRENGTH AS A PERSON?

he’s genuine and authentic, in every level of his life, in everything he does. he might not be the strongest or the most humble, he might be mercurial and sometimes, arrogant, but he gives all of him in everything he does and he makes sure whatever he’s trying to accomplish is something that makes him happy and that shows who he is and where he stands as a person in that precise moment in time. his greatest strength is just that, that he’s genuine and that he is relentless when it comes to displaying it, be it on a personal level through his actions or professionally, through his art.

WHAT IS THEIR GREATEST WEAKNESS?

being so overprotective of those he loves, especially leticia, often means that when someone does something to try and hurt them/her or to get to them/her, grey can easily lose touch with what’s right and wrong and get angry to a point where he could do some real danger. his greatest weakness are those he loves.

IF THEY COULD CHANGE ONE THING ABOUT THEMSELVES, WHAT WOULD IT BE?

nothing. grey has learned to love himself and love his life the way it is ; he’s at absolute peace with his appearance and his soul, he’s in sync with everything in his life, and he believes that if he is the way he is, it’s because there’s an underlying reason for it. being himself has brought him wonderful things and he believes to change something about him, would be to disrespect that. he’s happy with who he is so, ultimately, he wouldn’t change a thing.

ARE THEY GENERALLY INTROVERTED OR EXTROVERTED?

he’s an extrovert in its whole, there’s no hint of introversion to him and his character.

ARE THEY GENERALLY ORGANIZED OR MESSY?

greyson is not, by any means, a neat-freak but he’s not fond of messy stuff. he’s an incredibly organized person, particularly when it regards his professional life, so altogether, he’s far more organized than messy.

NAME THREE THINGS THEY CONSIDER THEMSELVES TO BE VERY GOOD AT, AND THREE THINGS THEY CONSIDER THEMSELVES TO BE VERY BAD AT.

three things greyson is amazing at : CREATING ( be it music, writing, art or clothes, he’s great at being creative ), SOLVING CONFLICTS ( he could charm anyone’s pants off ; he has an insane ability to talk things out and shed light on certain perspective while making it simple for a person to understand it ) and ENTERTAINING PEOPLE ( whether it’s through his music and shows, or by taking them out and finding a way to get them to have a good time, grey is really good at that ). three things greyson is awful at : LYING - he can’t for the life of him lie to someone, no matter what the situation is -, DANCING - he has many talents, and he can get away with his skills at a club or something, but altogether, grey is not the best dancer - and FOLLOWING TV SHOWS - he has a hard time focusing on them so unless they’re sitcoms he can loosely follow or something chill, greyson can’t, for the life of him, follow tv shows.

DO THEY LIKE THEMSELVES?

he does ; greyson is at peace with everything he is and he’s proud of himself, for the life he leads and all he managed to accomplish.

WHAT GOAL DO THEY MOST WANT TO ACCOMPLISH IN THEIR LIFETIME?

lead a life worth living, one that he’ll be proud of when he passes away. he wants to live for, as oscar wilde once said, “ to live is the rarest thing in the world. most people exist, that is all. ” - that’s what he wants to accomplish the most.

WHERE DO THEY SEE THEMSELVES IN FIVE YEARS?

doing what he loves still, perhaps having branched out to collaborate with some kind of designer and by being affiliated to some brand and to some kind of art-related business. maybe having his own recording label, depending how it’ll go, and definitely being affiliated with more foundations and causes he believes in. he sees himself with leticia, and he hopes they’ll have their own little family by then, and, most importantly, he hopes their kids will be able to have some sense of normalcy in their lives despite who they are. he sees himself as an accomplished person who is happy with the life they’re leading.

IF THEY COULD CHOOSE, HOW WOULD THEY WANT TO DIE?

peacefully and without feeling too much pain, maybe during his sleep. greyson finds it rather morbid to consider stuff like this so it’s not a topic he enjoys reminiscing upon.

IF THEY KNEW THEY WERE GOING TO DIE IN 24 HOURS, NAME THREE THINGS THEY WOULD DO IN THE TIME THEY HAD LEFT.

record a tape with every last word he had to say, about his life, everything he accomplished and everyone he loved and who contributed to make him the person he was, do a free show in new york so he could, for one last time, do what he loved and take leticia in one last date.

WHAT IS THE ONE THING FOR WHICH THEY WOULD MOST LIKE TO BE REMEMBERED AFTER THEIR DEATH?

for everything he accomplished and especially for being someone who never quit his dreams and always believed in himself, his hard-work and talent. he wants to be remembered for always being true to himself and for being genuine in everything he did. he wants to be remembered as someone who lived the life, as someone who was happy, all along.

WHAT THREE WORDS BEST DESCRIBE THEIR PERSONALITY?

genuine, ambitious and creative.

WHAT THREE WORDS WOULD OTHERS PROBABLY USE TO DESCRIBE THEM?

hard-working, honest ( borderline blunt ) and over-achiever.

#✰. —– greyson •「 HEADCANON. 」❜

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jerusalism · 4 years

Text

Adeena Karasick interviewed by Joelle Milman

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Joelle Milman: The infinite abounds in your work. What is your relationship to ein sof?

JM: Who is your muse?

AK: Abraham Abulafia, 13th C. Kabbalistic mystic.

JM: Your recent work, COVID/ KAVOD, pays attention to these particular times and the words we have created around it. Can you tell me more about the piece?

Superstar dub poet/producer Lillian Allen contacted me and asked me to record my thoughts. She had it set to music with a DJ and a cello; launched on Spotify and CD Baby...crazy! It was one of those things, where you never know where things might lead, the synecdoche of the ever-so prescient spread?! Really makes one think about the viral nature of everything, i.e. memes—units of cultural energy that virally replicate themselves; how à la Korzybski / Burroughs, “Language IS a virus…

JM: You work in performance, video, text—but everything seems grounded in words. How do words play differently in different forms?

I love the differences between them [mediums] and I love ways that they feed off and expand the experience of one another.

JM: What is your relationship to the individual letter?

AK: Kabbalistically speaking, if the world was created through letters, every time we read or write or speak, we are in essence re-creating the world.

JM: Tell me more about what you find sexy. What is the erotic up to when it shows up in your work, and do you find it particularly intertwined with gender? If so, how and why?

JM: I love it. I haven't seen anything that approximates the video poetry you make and they’re awesome. When it comes to idea generation, do you start with the medium or the message? What is your editing process like?

JM: So much of your work is mash-up, combining elements from other texts be they theoretical, visual, or otherwise. What is it like to combine existing content and bring it into new forms?

What’s it like? In a word: textatic ; )

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To join the Jerusalism Mekuvan Zoom session featuring Adeena, please see register: https://www.eventbrite.com/e/mekuvan-4-wadeena-karasick-tickets-107540472448

#interview #israeli culture #jerusalism #connectingliterally

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okayleafs · 7 years

Text

no problem - sidney crosby

requested: no

word count: 934

your car breaks down in the middle of a storm and it just so happens to be next to a certain captain’s house

*lowercase intended*

here you were. standing in front of his door. you have no other option, but would take anything else at this moment in time.

“no, no, no..” you say to no one. this seriously can’t be happening.

you were on your way home from work when the engine in your car decided to start smoking and stop working all together. of course it also had to be during the worst storm to have touched pittsburgh. you took a different route hoping the storm hadn’t ruined the roads too bad, but oh you were so wrong. figuring out that your phone has no service, probably due to the storm taking out the lines, you find that you were in a part of town that you didn’t know much about, but looking around, a house that seems all too familiar catches your eye. racking your brain trying to figure out why you knew it, you slam your head on the steering wheel.

it’s sidney crosby’s house.

due to your immense amount of hockey friends, thanks to your dad’s job, being invited to parties thrown at his house weren’t an unusual thing. sure you liked parties, but with hockey players, that’s a whole different story. their childlike nature and cocky attitudes weren’t your thing. not all of them are like that though, so those select few were the one you get to call your best friends. you had gone to one party, tagging along with kris letang, and met the man himself. being considered the best player in the nhl, he held high standards. he met those standards and some.

so here you were. knocking on the door of the guy you fell for in one night. yeah, you were that girl.

you would really do anything to not be doing this, but you were stuck in an unfamiliar part of town with a car that doesn’t work. you needed the help. rapping your knuckles are the dark wood door three times, you waited with shaky hands and a rapid beating heart.

“coming!” a hurried voice said from somewhere inside the house, only making your nerves worsen. the door swung open to reveal a shirtless and tired looking sidney. his eyes widened to see you standing in front of him. it was probably because everything that was once dry on your body is now covered in snow, along with your straightened hair now in ringlets.

“y/n?” he questioned with surprise. “what are you doing here so late? and why are you covered in snow?” a concerned frown formed on his face. only realizing it was almost past 11 by the time you left, a blush formed on your face feeling bad that you probably woke him up. you found it hard to form words, and the fact that he wasn’t wearing a shirt didn’t help either.

“i uh was coming home from a meeting and my car broke down and i uh don’t really know what to do.” you stammered out. looking down at your hands, trying to make them not so visibly shaky.

“oh uh okay just let me grab a shirt and ill see if i can fix it.” he turns in his heels to jog up the stairs to find a shirt. you awkwardly stand there not knowing if you should come in or not. you don’t wonder for too long as sidney is already coming back down the stairs, pulling on a black long sleeve.

“so tell me exactly what happened.” sidney said as i directed him towards my car. “well, i was just driving, then all of a sudden, i saw smoke coming from the hood of my car and it just stopped running.” you try to explain as best as you could without fumbling over your words. he doesn’t say anything as you get to your car, and after a couple minutes of him poking around the engine, he says that you probably blew a gasket.

“there’s no way that a tow truck will be able to get anytime soon, more or less even in the morning...” he trails off, almost like he’s just talking to himself. “i would offer to take you home myself, but it’s not worth being put in danger in this storm.” as soon as sidney says this, your mind starts to reel with what could possibly go more wrong tonight. the last thing you need is to not have anywhere to go.

“so..am i supposed to walk home?” you ask out of confusion and desperation. “no,” sidney puffs out a laugh. “you can stay at my house until the storm blows over.” oh. and you thought just knocking on his door was the worst of your nerves tonight. sidney, noticing you shaking, leads you two back inside. little did he know, you were so distracted that you had forgotten about the cold and were shaking for different reasons.

“sidney?”

“hm?”

“i am really sorry about this. i had no idea what i was thinking. i should have left work earlier to avoid the storm, and now i am here ruining your night by bothering you with my problems and now i have to stay in your house and intrude on things and-” he cuts off your rambling by taking his hand and placing it over your arm, his unusually warm hands calming you. “y/n, its totally fine. you don’t have to worry about it. you’re my friend and that’s what friends do for each other.”

there it was. friend. you were just friend zoned by the guy who you had hopelessly fallen for, and he had no idea.

#ahh its my first imagine and i hope you like it #sidney crosby #sidney crosby imagine #pittsburgh penguins #kris letang #national hockey league #nhl #hockey #hockey imagine #my writing

175 notes · View notes

salty-dracon · 7 years

Text

SAFuture- The Drive

Bridget, Val, and Aditi examine Genetika’s hard drive in order to learn more about her plans. They also uncover her first American target.

TL:DR Totally accurate hacker things!

“You’re a biologist, right?“ Aditi asked.

“No, I’m a mechanical engineer.“ Brid leaned over. “Need help deciphering the information on the drives?“

“I do, yes. I’ve already made the necessary preparations.“ Aditi motioned to a small black box beside the computer. “An autonomous generator and an EMP shield. Security is at its highest. Nothing is getting in or out of this room, including information.“

“Let’s go, then.“ Brid leaned over the side of the computer. “Open the drive.“

Aditi double-clicked on an icon on the computer’s desktop. It opened, and then prompted a password.

“Password is ‘organism’, all lowercase,“ Val said.

Aditi typed it in and hit “enter”. “It worked,” she said. Just as she was about to import the files, another prompt appeared- “Enter encryption key”.

“You don’t happen to have an encryption key with you, do you, Val?“ Aditi asked.

“Encryption?“ Val’s eyes widened. “How are we supposed to get past an encryption key?“

“What’s the key supposed to be?“ Brid asked.

Aditi opened up another program and typed some things into a command line tool. She received a pop-up in return. “Well, the program isn’t scanning my other ports, neither is it asking for a text prompt. The only thing I can think of is that something needs to be plugged into the drive directly.“

“Something?“ Brid asked.

“It could be anything, really. Flash drive, microchip... anything that can store encryption data.”

Brid examined the drive. While she was feeling around its sides, her finger touched something. “Adi, I found something.”

“What?“

Brid motioned to a little window that had opened on the side of the drive. The inside of the hole revealed a small chamber with a needle. The walls were covered in little red stains.

“Could DNA work?“ Brid asked.

“Of course a DNA scanner would work.“ Aditi said. “She might have some device to turn her own DNA into code.“

“Oh, so that’s why they were freaking out about the finger!“ Val exclaimed.

“Finger?” Aditi asked.

Val pulled the finger out of the briefcase, which was still wrapped in toilet paper. Holding it with a tissue, he pressed it inside the hole.

“Is that Genetika’s finger?!“ Aditi stared at it as Val wrapped it back up in the toilet tissue and threw it back in the briefcase.

Words appeared on the screen. “Scanning... ” A few seconds later, more words appeared. “Decryption complete.”

“Judging by these file names, it did the trick.“ Aditi pointed to some of the folder names, which were all in plain English. “Now, let’s see... “ She began opening the folders and scrolling through the files, which appeared to be mostly spreadsheets.

“A distraction?“ Val asked. “Where’s the real information? Oooh, try running those .exes.“ He pointed to two program files, labeled “time.exe” and “update.exe”.

Aditi copied the two program files and a few spreadsheets onto a flash drive and moved them to a separate computer. With a few clicks, she opened the program.

“The time one just runs the update one every five minutes as long as it’s running.“ Aditi opened update.exe. “This one receives the signal from time.exe and updates the most recent spreadsheet using information from the local area network labeled AscendedEmpire.“ Aditi opened time.exe. Immediately, update.exe began to run as well. A few seconds later, all of the files on the flash drive deleted themselves, with a text file appearing on the desktop, labeled “Nice try!”.

“She foresaw us running the program and included a program to delete any information that someone attempted to read outside of her LAN. Good thing I’m not impulsive.“ Moving back to the original computer, she deleted time.exe and update.exe. “We should have no problem reading these spreadsheets now.” After moving the files to the second computer, she opened them.

“So, what’s been going on so far?“ Val asked. “I don’t really get it.“

“First, the DNA on her finger wasn’t a true/false, it was an encryption using DNA, meaning Genetika’s literally the only person that can access this drive. Second, she also installed a self-destruct button, which we managed to bypass.“

“I discovered another function of update.exe,“ Aditi said. “At midnight on the start of every month, update.exe creates a new spreadsheet in the folder labeled ‘Extras’.”

“Let’s check out the folders next, then.“

Aditi opened the folder labeled “Extras”. She opened the most recent spreadsheet, labeled “JANUARY 70″.

“ID, Date of Birth... “ Brid read the categories along the top. “Status, stage, most recent picture, date of picture, implant model, notes.“

“One strange thing I note is that there’s no name mentioned.“ Aditi pointed to the categories. “It’s to be expected they’re all of the same person.“

“But who?“ Brid asked.

Aditi read the first entry. “JAN7001. Date of birth, April 1st. Status is green. Stage is fetus.” The picture displayed what looked like an unborn child floating inside a glass cylinder of liquid. “Date of picture, January 15th. Implant model 59.0.5.”

“Maybe the adults can give insight into who they’re cloning.“

“Right.“ Aditi scrolled down. “These are all infants. And there are 20 of them.“

“Move on to another file.”

Aditi opened another spreadsheet. “OCT6901. Date of birth, November 1st of last year. Status is green. Stage is usable adult.” The picture displayed an adult woman floating inside a cylinder of liquid. “Date of picture, January 15th. Implant model 58.5.0.”

“Val, do you know who that woman is?“ Brid asked, turning to Val.

Val leaned over Aditi’s chair and examined the “It’s Genetika. She’s the one whose finger I ripped off. Wait, but why would she clone herself?“

“She seems to create new ones every month,“ Aditi said. “Wait, they’re called ‘extras’, aren’t they?“

“Yeah? So what?“ Val asked.

“Didn’t you say yourself that she doesn’t seem to die, even in the direst of circumstances?“ Aditi pointed to the spreadsheet. “What if she had died? Numerous times? And simply woken up again in a different body?“

“She’s been cloning herself and transferring her memories to her clones when she dies?!“ Val exclaimed. “I never even thought of that.“

“So, in five months, a clone goes from fetus to usable adult.“ Brid paced the room. “So... what happens after that? Do they just age rapidly until they die?“

“What do you estimate her current age to be, Val?“

“In her thirties.“

“Then let’s try a year ago.“ Aditi opened another spreadsheet. “JAN6901. Date of birth, January 1st of last year. Status is... dead. Termination date in August. So, when the clones get too old, she kills them.“ Aditi moved to a more recent spreadsheet. “Ah, here we go. JUN6901. Date of birth, May 1st of last year. Status is elderly. Termination date is scheduled for sometime in February.“

“Each one has an eight-month life cycle before it has to be disposed of,“ Val said.

“That’s what I assume. She does tend to keep them around for long periods of time, though. Val, do you know any other times she might have died? I want to see what data is collected when she deploys these clones.“

“I cut her arm off once. Three months ago. Next I met her, it was intact.“

“Let’s see.“ Aditi opened up a three-month-old spreadsheet. “Here it is. JUL6908. Status: Deployed, November 21st. It also was in... ‘very good’ condition.“ She pointed to some notes under the column “Notes”. “Ah, here’s something else... “ She scrolled down to the bottom of the sheet. “JUL6918. Terminated only one week in for abnormal brain growth. Looks like she monitors these carefully and terminates any that might cause problems.“

“Of course. They’re her lifeline.“ Brid leaned over the wheelchair again. “But, if she gets rid of the ones that get too old, it means she only has a limited supply. Eight month life cycle, 20 new ones per month... if she grows about seven years per month, it means she only has five months worth of viable adult clones. Meaning, at any given point in time, she only has 100 of her.“

“So we destroy every clone until she dies for good?“

“That’s the idea. Unless she has a stash somewhere we don’t know about.“

“Now let’s take a look at something a little more interesting.“ Aditi opened one of the other folders, labeled “Mods”. Just like the other folder, it was filled with spreadsheets. However, each of them was not named by month, but were titled with things like “Reptile” “Amphibian” “Mammal”, with a number of spreadsheets labeled “Mix” organized by year.

“Try ‘Mammal’,“ Val said.

Aditi opened the folder.

“Mod ID, species, anticipated abilities, date of birth, status, stage, most recent picture, date of picture, implant model, notes,“ Aditi read the list of categories across the top.

“Once again, IDs.“ Val pointed to the first ID. “5890803. Looks like they don’t have names either. Let’s see. It’s a bloodhound. Abilities include tracking scents. Born just a week ago. Still going strong, in fetus stage.“

“Hey, see if Typhon’s in there,“ Brid asked. “He should be under Reptile.“

“I hate to burst your bubble, but every single creature here looks vaguely female.“ Aditi pointed to some other pictures on the list, all of whom had thin, curvy bodies.

“My guess is that she’s modding her own clones,“ Val said. “Remember when we killed that jaguar girl at the party? The one who said she was Genetika?“

“You mean this one.“ Aditi pointed to an entry. “Species is jaguar, abilities include strength, camouflage, and stealth.”

“That was her.”

“Okay, so the ‘Mods’ folder is filled with modifications she’s made to other clones of herself. Meaning she’s potentially got more of them.“

“Not too many more.“ Aditi scanned the list. “Very few of them are viable. I’d say an extra fifty at a time. But they are potentially stronger than the others. She probably uses these for matters she attends to herself.“

“Just what I was thinking, Adi.“ Brid pointed to another folder. “Personnel?“

Aditi opened the folder. “These are all clearance levels, I’m guessing. Clearance red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, black.” She pointed to a list of folders.

“Red,“ Val said.

Aditi opened the spreadsheet. “This is mostly the personal information of employees. Recognize any names?”

“Let’s see... “ Val’s eyes scanned the screen. “Typhon Barnett. Lizard tail and red scales. That’s the one we ran into that one time.“

“Wait, I recognize those two.“ Brid pointed to two names. “Viviel and Thanatel, a pair of twins. We met at a party, and they took me out for burgers. Well, they wanted sex, but I wanted burgers.“

“They’re assassins,“ Aditi said, reading their description. “With a mix and match of various powers giving them great mobility. They also have a mental link, whatever that means.“

“No one else I recognize by name,“ Val said. “Either way, a full list of personnel is pretty good.“

“There’s also a set not related to clearance levels.“ Aditi pointed to three sheets. “Gold, silver, and bronze.“ Aditi opened the file. “And this is a list of government officials, and the number of clones they have stored and where.”

“Come on, there has to be something about her plans,“ Val complained. “Where is it?“

Aditi performed a file search, typing in a number of keywords. She opened one particular file. “There’s some kind of a diary here which contains the names of cities.” She opened it up.

“January 1st,“ Val read. “Happy New Year! Everything’s going to plan so far. My mole tells me SECRET hasn’t caught wind of my actions, nor do they care. My only concern at the moment is this random vigilante that seems bent on stopping me. I doubt he can do it alone. He’s very weak, but at the same time very mobile and agile. I’m thinking about capturing him and using his data to improve Vivi and Thana. They need a little boost.“

“Cities,“ Brid whispered.

Aditi scrolled to another entry.

“December 3rd. The floor meeting today was enlightening. SECRET has not caught a single whiff of our actions, despite me buying an entire Italian castle just to house my clones. We’ve decided it’s time to focus on the world’s strongest empire: America. That was the subject of the meeting. I plan to talk over my plans with a few city governments, and see if they won’t help me. I can offer them so much, of course. They won’t be around to witness the Empire at its true strength, however.“

“Too early,“ Brid whispered.

“December 23rd. It’s almost Christmas! Now that I’ve talked over my plans with various American governments, I can begin preparations for the war on America. I’ll be going dormant for a while in order to do so, but I will still need to meet with a number of these people in person. We haven’t fully organized a schedule yet, but the general consensus is that we’ll be starting with Rubicon City, Vermont. It’s laughably easy to knock out the entire city with a well-placed bomb. Flooding the place would be a piece of cake. Plus, a lake would make for a great base. We’ll then be handling Soleil. The government there in particular has done its best to resist us. I want to make an example of them, to show the rest of the world what it means to resist the Empire. We’ll figure out everything from there.“

“Rubicon City,“ Val said, standing up. “That’s their first target, looks like.“

“No surprise. It’s the closest to Europe in terms of distance.“ Brid stood up and stretched her limbs out. “Not to mention it was the site of that attack. Whatever they’re going to do, that’s probably a precursor.“

“Yeah.“

“If we want more detailed information, we’re gonna have to get it out of one of her lackeys, or steal another drive. Aditi, can you copy over the data onto this drive?“ Val held out a flash drive with a tiny watermelon charm. Aditi took it, quickly transferred the data, and handed it back.

“Careful,“ she said, giving Val the drive back. “If they’re serious about that drive, they’ll still be searching for you.“

“We’ll act like the failsafe triggered, then,“ Val said. “That sound good, Brid?“

“Hopefully they assume we’re that dumb,“ she said, unplugging the drive and tossing it back into Val’s briefcase. “Thanks for everything, Aditi.“

“No problem,“ Aditi said. “And Val, I keep saying, SECRET will be your biggest ally here. You need to bring all that data before a board in SECRET and they will believe you, I promise.“

“That’s America’s problem now,“ Val said. “I’ll do my best once I’m there.“

“And learn to take advice from your peers once in a while, you pompous ass.“

Brid snorted. “Ass...”

-----

#secretagents

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allthejoeks · 8 years

Text

LSOR- Chapter 2

Links: [FF]

Chapter 2: Partners (or Why Ouran Would Dominate at Capture the Flag)

Leo and his three cohorts stood at the cliff with the rest of their class, Professor Ozpin, and Ms. Goodwitch. However, despite all of them being in the same location, there was a key difference in situation. Leo and his friends(?) were standing on four gray squares. Everyone else was not. Leo reckoned this made a great deal of difference.

"Due to the unprecedented display of immaturity you all greeted me with last night," Ms. Goodwitch announced. "There will be some changes to your initiation. If I had it my way, there wouldn't be an initiation, but luckily, your Headmaster is far more forgiving than I am."

"Thank you, Glynda," Ozpin said. "While I admire last night's… enthusiasm, let's call it, it only confirmed what I said about you all having wasted energy. As you all seem to have such energy, I think it only fit you all run through today's exercise with ease. Today, students, you will be launched into that forest right there," he gestured to the expansive forest in front of them. "That forest is currently inhabited by 20 second years, and copious amounts of Grimm. Your goal will be to survive 30 minutes in that forest without getting caught or dying. Once you land in that forest, the first person you make eye contact with will be your partner for the next four years. If your partner fails, you fail. Stick together. The duo closest to you in terms of time lasted will become your teammates. We will be keeping track of your Aura amounts from up here. If one of your upperclassmen forces you into the red, you will be considered caught, and if you are killed by a Grimm, you will be considered dead. Once either has happened, you will make your way back up here without bothering anybody. Any questions?"

Ouran raised his hand. "Yes, Mr. Arc?"

"Does that 'fall into the red' thing apply to the second years as well?"

Everyone turned to look at him. Was he serious? Even Ms. Goodwitch seemed taken aback. "Yes, Mr. Arc. If a second year falls into the red, they will be forced to leave the forest," Ozpin answered.

Ouran nodded, a peculiar grin on his face.

"Now then, those are the rules as they apply to most of you," Ms. Goodwitch continued. "However, for last evening's perpetrators, they will be going half an hour earlier than the rest of you, and their timers will not start until yours do. Essentially, they must survive double the time. The reason for this punishment -and students, I cannot stress this enough- is because you started a fight on the first night at school."

Ouran raised his hand again. "Again, Mr. Arc?"

"But Weird Eyes and Trash Can Girl tried to stop the fighting, so how come they're getting punished too?" Ouran complained. Once again, everyone stood in silence, but this time, it was because no one had any idea what he was saying.

Leo raised his hand. "I think he means Reina and I," he clarified.

"Well, Mr. Arc, in their attempts to stop the fight, not only did they fail, but they made things worse. Misjudging your own abilities can result in the deaths of you and your comrades in the field. As such, whatever the intention, all those who were involved in the escalation of the fight are being punished," Ms. Goodwitch clarified.

Ouran nodded. That made sense. He faced forward once again.

"Now, we will begin your 30 minutes. I'm sure you all have your Landing Strategies, and wish you the- What is it this time, Mr. Arc?"

"What's a Landing Strata-GEEEEEEE?!" Ouran screamed as he was flung into the air. Leo braced himself. He had been standing next to Ouran. And sure enough, he felt a violent shove from beneath him, and he was launched into the air. Reina, launched, then Selena, and with that, the four strangers were airborn.

Ouran flew through the air, steadily righting himself. Oh, "Landing Strategy". A strategy for landing. Now he just felt stupid for asking. He focused, feeling the familiar tug on his stomach whenever he used his Semblance. He forced the winds to the front of him, buffeting him, slowing him down. He slammed feet first into a tree branch, breaking it off, but he successfully caught onto the next one. He flipped onto it just as the first branch hit the ground. He immediately bolted downwind of the area. He could not let his position be revealed so easily. After all, it was a hunt, and if there was one thing he was great at, it was hunting. The only problem was the 20 to 4 odds for the first half hour. He had played enough games of Predator vs. Prey back home to know that, in games of hunting, the side with the higher number had the far greater advantage. So, all there was to do was make the numbers more even. He was in the forest, his element. He would not lose to anyone here. He smiled to himself. This was going to be so much fun.

Leo watched the trees go by with his Vision. He was moving at something like 30 mph. It would hurt quite a bit, even with Aura, if he took a full-on collision. He pulled two guns out of his jacket, and fired them into the air, stopping just as soon as his speed had slowed down enough. It would be wise to conserve bullets. He then shifted his guns into daggers, latching onto the nearest tree with them, using the friction to slow down, allowing himself to spiral to the ground. He licked his finger and felt the air, then followed the wind. It would also be wise to go downwind. He wasn't particularly stealthy so this wouldn't make much of a difference, but it was going to be a tough battle. He would use anything that could help.

Leo knew the initiation was not in their favor. It seemed like the four only had to go double time, which wasn't too bad, since the initiation wasn't built to actually fail people. Under the normal rules, anyone who didn't completely panic could survive an hour, but for the first half, they had deal with the fact that there were 5 skilled students for every 1 of them. It was in his best interest to find his partner as soon as possible, and, of the three candidates, he would prefer it be Ouran. His complete lack of any difference between his shown expressions and microexpressions interested Leo greatly.

Reina took a few calming breaths. That had been scary. Really scary. It had been 50 times worse than any one of those tower drop rides at amusement parks. And it wasn't over. She was still in midair. Any civilian who did this would definitely die. This was deadly. But she was not a normal civilian. She would not die. She had practiced her Landing Strategy in several different situations at Signal. She shot strings from her fingertips that tied themselves to passing branches. She didn't just stop letting the lines run from her hand, as at her speed, that would yank her arm off. Rather, she lengthened the line slower than the speed she was moving at, so the pull from the string still slowed her down, just not painfully so. Once she slowed down enough, she shot another string forward, lassoing a branch ahead of her, and she swung down to the ground. She wasn't entirely sure what she was going to do, but standing still was not an option. She had to pass this initiation no matter what. She couldn't disappoint her family and friends on Day 1. She walked forward. It was as good a direction as any, she supposed.

Selena sighed. Nobody, not even herself, heard it because the wind was whistling along at 30 miles an hour, but she did it anyway. This was too easy. She'd complete the initiation without breaking a sweat. She flicked Rune Queen, creating two circular runes, one at the branch she was about to crash into, and one on the ground. She flew straight into the branch rune, and popped out of the ground rune. Her inertia took her up to the branch rune again, and once she popped out of the ground rune, she did a flip and land a foot away from it. She erased the rune on the ground. She would just have to create another one when she was in a pinch and she'd be up on that branch, safe from harm. With her Teleportation and Dust Runes, no one would be able to even touch her. She marched forward, because it truly did not matter where she went.

It took Ouran 54 seconds from landing to find a Huntress-in-training. It took him three minutes of silent stalking to realize that she would not let her guard down in any reasonable time. He was impressed. To maintain such constant total awareness was a difficult thing to do for somebody not born in a dangerous environment. This school really was the best. Unfortunately, he was the one person who could take advantage of that vigilance. He stayed on the branches on top of her, killing off his presence and noise. Not even a Grimm could sense him when he was like this. Then, he lifted his hand. He created a breeze, one that rustled through a bush in the direction opposite of him. She immediately pointed her gun at it. "If you come out now, I won't shoot you," she announced.

Ouran alighted onto the ground. He crept up, staying directly behind her, and gripped his swords.

10 seconds later, Professor Ozpin's Scroll chimed. He glanced down on it. "It would seem Mr. Arc has taken a piece before anyone could realize they were playing a match," he noted, amused. "Ms. Akamaru has been 'captured'."

Ms. Goodwitch turned to him. "Ms. Akamaru?" she whispered, shocked. "She placed first in all surveillance and hunting tests."

"Glynda, we train Hunters, with a capital 'H'. But that boy, he was raised a hunter, lowercase. That is a world of difference. There is no doubt in my mind that right now, Mr. Arc is the most dangerous entity in that forest. And, seeing as the second years can see the same screen I'm seeing, they've all realized that there's something in that forest that can remove them from play. Now they are all wary. The fight has, mentally, been brought to them. Mr. Arc put them in check with a single move."

"You cannot sincerely believe that boy capable of thinking-"

"Glynda, I believe that that boy had this in mind the instant he raised his hand for the first time. He is a hunter, someone who has lived every day one step away from death. He knows fear and panic better than anyone else in that forest. So long as this game goes on, he is the absolute chessmaster."

Ouran fiddled with his underwear as he walked. Whatever sort of fabric kingdom underwear used, it really had a habit of riding up, especially when he got more mobile. He'd have to see if he could get different ones. While he was attempting to extract it, he saw some tracks on the ground ahead. He withdrew his hand from his pants and bent down to examine them. They were Beowolf tracks, extremely fresh, probably wouldn't take too long to catch up to them. The depth of the depressions interested him too. They had been running with force, meaning they had detected a target. He smiled. That meant if he followed these tracks, he'd have his next target. His underwear issue could wait. Not for too long though.

Leo ran along the path, attempting to evade the Beowolves. Well, not exactly "evading", more like he wanted to fight them in a terrain more advantageous to him. He had been running for a minute now, and he could see a clearing up ahead, thankfully. His breath was starting to run ragged. He reached the middle of the clearing and whirled around, watching as the Beowolves spread out in front of him.

Leo stayed still, flicking his eyes between his attackers. Every eye shift, nostril flare, and leg twitch was properly categorized and analyzed. He had a rough understanding of what their movements would be. Now time for the dance to begin. Two split off from the pack, three attacked from the front, one hung back. Showtime.

He reached behind him, for the two guns on the back of his belt. He threw them into the air above him as they shifted into daggers. Three Beowolves charged right for him. While bringing his hands back, he grabbed the four guns strapped to his hips and started juggling them. He shot six bullets, one leg, one head, each time. One of the splitters was going to attack from the left. He shifted two of his guns to knife form and pivoted to greet it. One knife used to deflect the thing's swinging claw, the next used to slash its throat. The other splitter should be attacking him from the right now. He swung his arms back, grabbing the guns he had dropped when using the knives, and pointed them at the angle where they should hit the Beowolf's head. Two splatters told him he had been correct. That left only the straggler, who was now barreling towards him. The timers on the knives he had thrown at the start went off. Their gun handles fired, and they shot off like rockets, if rockets' spins were perfectly timed to hit a Beowolf right in the head. Now blinded, it failed to notice Leo dodging out of the way and putting a gun to its head. One click later, and he no longer had any Beowolves to deal with. He looked down at the ground. One of his knives hadn't actually hit the Beowolf, but had skimmed it and landed in the ground. He glared at it. How irritating.

Leo leaned down to pick up the wayward knife. As he did, he heard a roar from behind him. Shit. He turned his head to see a larger Beowolf, clearly the most experienced in the pack, launching itself at him. It must have stayed completely out of sight in order to find an opening, rather than go for a full offensive. Well, it had found one. With his body crouched down like this, he wouldn't be able to launch a counterattack, and he wasn't capable of dodging a creature this fast. His only chance was to wait for an opening in its barrage and fire his guns through its throat, but he would not be coming out unscathed. As he braced himself for impact, however, a tremendous blast of wind hit the Bewowolf from the right and sent it flying. Leo glanced to the right, already knowing who was there. Ouran Arc smiled at him, holding his sword out in post-swing. The experienced, Aura-less, black creature of death was one thing, but how had the tall blonde clad entirely in blue gone unnoticed until now?

"Yo," Ouran greeted. "Figured you could take care of the pack yourself, so I held back, but that Beowolf looked like it was about to do a number on you."

"I'm sure I would've been the victor in the end," Leo replied. "But yes, thank you for the aid."

The Beowolf staggered up to his feet. Ouran whistled. "My windblade didn't put you down? You're a tough one, ain'tcha?"

Leo moved to finish it off but Ouran blocked his path with his sword. "Nope. You had your fun. I'll take care of this guy," he said, smiling.

Leo looked at Ouran. As expected of someone willing to start a fight at orientation, his smile was filled bloodlust. He put his guns back in his holster.

Ouran walked forward, swords at the ready. He and the Grimm circled each other. Leo watched with interest. Everything about the Grimm's posture and movement suggested it was incredibly wary of the opponent in front of in. In contrast, Ouran just looked irritated.

Ouran paced the Grimm. This always bothered him about older Grimm. They would never engage unless they were sure they could win. Sissies. Luckily, he had spent a lot of time practicing a technique to bait them into a fight. He ran forward at the beast. The Grimm lept at him, claw raised in the air for a powerful strike. Ouran grinned. Easy. He dug his claws into the ground and rocketed towards the beast, now at full speed. He snuck into the opening left by the Beowolf's raised arm before it even had time to react. He pivoted, and spun on the spot, bringing Dexia through the beast's armpit, cleaving off its arm completely. As Dexia's follow-through spun his body, he held Alisteria low for a slash at the Grimm's leg. Not a complete amputation, but certainly a deep wound. The Beowolf immediately attempted to retreat, but with only three limbs, one of them crippled, it only managed to stagger away. Ouran promptly body slammed it, pinning it to the ground. Completely immobilized, it could do nothing as Ouran thrust his blades through its neck. Ouran felt all of the body's resistance give way as the creature died. He sheathed his swords and hopped off the creature's back as it dissipated.

"Not bad," Leo praised. "Your speed and footwork are unlike any I've seen. You made much quicker work of him than I would have."

Leo cringed slightly at his praise. A tad too similar to the way he talked to the politicians and aristocrats, something he swore to abandon. Still, it wasn't a lie this time, and it was important to make a good first impression.

"I'd hope so," Oran replied. "But you're not too bad yourself. All those gun tricks you did? Totally Grimmjaw."

Leo looked at Ouran's face. Based on his somewhat impressed expression, 'Grimmjaw' was a compliment. "Thanks, partner," he remarked.

"Yeah, I guess we are partners now, huh? Well met, Weird Eyes. Glad it was somebody smart like you."

Leo winced. "Do you have to call me 'Weird Eyes'? I'm not one for nicknames."

"It's not a nickname, it's a new-moniker."

"A what?" Leo blanched.

"A new-moniker," Ouran repeated. "You know, something you call people to help you remember stuff about them? It was one of my cousin's vocab words for school. Figured you would know it."

"Do you mean a mnemonic?" Leo corrected. "A word, phrase or poem designed to help you remember something?"

Ouran scrunched up his face in concentration. "Hmmm… you know, that sounds kind of right, too."

"It is right," Leo established. "New-moniker is definitely not a word. I can see your train of logic in getting it confused, but the correct word is mnemonic."

Ouran shrugged. "Alright then. I was never good with words anyway. What should I call you?"

Leo held out his hand. "My name. Leonardo Kuros, or Leo for short."

Ouran grinned and shook it. "I'm Ouranos Arc, call me Ouran."

Leo winced. Ouran had a very tight grip. He supposed he would have to get used to it.

Reina trekked through the forest. She wasn't quite sure where she was, or how long she had been walking, she just knew she should be vigilant. Or should she be a little less vigilant, so she could conserve mental strength for when she needed it? She'd be in this forest for a while after all. But, how would she know when she needed to super-focus if she wasn't already focused? It was a dilemma.

"You murmur to yourself, you know."

Reina jumped at the sound of another person's voice. She turned to see that the tree she just walked by had a person leaning against it, specifically the person whose real name probably wasn't Sharp Shoes. Reina looked her over. She was really pretty, had great posture, and had a face that exuded both confidence and apathy. It was like she was a magazine model brought to life. Reina immediately felt awkward in her sweatshirt and jeans. "Umm, hey there," Reina stammered. "So, I guess we're partners, huh?"

"Guess so," the girl replied tersely. She held out her hand. "Selena."

Reina gratefully shook it. "Reina Mahagan, at your service."

Selena broke the handshake first. "Wonderful."

Silence quickly resumed. Reina stood there for a brief few moments, wondering if they should do something. After a few moments more, she decided they should probably do something. A significantly larger amount of moments after that, she worked up the courage to inform Selena of this fact.

"Uh, Selena, shouldn't we- shouldn't we keep moving?"

Selena shrugged. "I don't see why. Now that I've met you, I have a partner. There's literally no reason to move around until someone finds us."

"But, isn't the point that people don't find us?" Reina asked.

Selena rolled her eyes. "Look, let me show you."

She flicked her wand, and Reina watched in awe as a circle of runes appeared on the ground, then was shocked to see the ground within the circle disappear to reveal a tree canopy. "What you're looking at is the tree I landed on," Selena explained. "My runes can create portals. If someone finds us, we'll just jump in there, and then move in another direction. Rinse and repeat. Simple."

"Oh, uh, cool," Reina said. "I'll just… I'll just stand here then."

And so she did. She listlessly stood there, nothing better to do. Her partner had everything under control, and seemed to emanating a fairly strong "Don't talk to me" vibe. It seemed like she was wildly unnecessary in this whole affair. Which was fine, if she was unneeded, she was unneeded, just… she really wished her existence wasn't already pointless on the second day. There was a bit of a sting to that.

Selena looked over her new partner. She had been the one restraining the dumb blonde last night, and the one who had talked to him on the airship. A goody two-shoes type. Selena looked at her battle uniform. A dark pink hoodie with a full-length zipper, a loose, pleated skirt that matched her mahogany hair, sneakers and black socks that went halfway up her shins. The only thing that made her not totally plain was… oh no.

"Why do you have a fanny pack?" Selena asked, disdain dripping from her voice.

Reina jumped at the sudden question. She glanced down at the object of interest, emblazoned with her insignia and strapped to her hip. "Oh, uh, it's my weapons pouch," she explained, pulling out one of her yo-yos to show Selena. "I store my Dust yo-yos in there, so I can grab them when I need them."

"Right, but did you really need it to be in a fanny pack?" Selena asked.

"Well, you know, function over form." Reina withdrew into herself. Selena was really critical. Well, they were practically strangers, she supposed. She should give her the benefit of the doubt.

They stood in silence for a couple minutes. Reina played Cat's Cradle to pass the time, hoping that Selena would take notice and would remark on it, leading her to explain her Semblance, which would lead to a conversation. Selena didn't. Reina risked a brief glance at the other girl. She was pointedly examining her nails. She was clearly not going to be the one to start a conversation. Which was cool, y'know, sometimes people just didn't want to talk. But maybe she was just nervous, like Reina was. She should at least try to make conversation. But, like, how could she just start a conversation? Did they have anything in common? She didn't know. It's not like she could just start an interview or something. Wait a minute.

"Do you wanna play 20 Questions?" Reina blurted out, before she could convince herself it was a stupid idea.

Selena turned her head to look at her. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, y'know, we're partners, right? So we should probably get to know each other better, and I figured, I'm doing nothing, and you're doing nothing, so I figured y'know, this was the best time to do it, and 20 Questions is a good way to do that, because you know, it's questions," Reina finished, withering away towards the end.

Selena stared at her for a moment. Reina wished she could be a little less intimidating. Then she spoke. "Sure, why not? Like you said, I'm not doing anything."

Reina smiled. "Ok! Cool! Uhm, I'll start. What's… what's your favorite color?"

"Lavender," Selena said. "What's your favorite color?"

"Pink. I mean, I know the obvious answer is 'mahogany'," Reina answered, tugging a strand of her hair. "But I just really like pink. What's your favorite food?"

"Not really sure. Never thought about it," Selena responded. "Yours?"

"Oh, uh, peanut butter and jelly sandwich," Reina said. "I mean, pretty basic meal, but it's easy to prepare, it tastes good, and it fills you up. It's great. What's your favorite hobby?"

"I like to read," Selena responded curtly. "What's your favorite hobby?"

"Oh, uh, I like to listen to music mostly," Reina said. "What kind of books do you read?"

"I'm going to pass on that question."

"Aw, c'mon, you don't have to be embarrassed," Reina said. "You can tell me. We're partners!"

"I'm not embarrassed," Selena growled, menacing glare back on in full force. She turned back to her nails, clearly indicating the end of the conversation.

Reina stared up at the leaves. This was fine. Her partner had answered most of the questions asked. Technically. She had cut it off when she felt things got too personal for their level of relationship, which was important and understandable. Granted, not being close enough to know her book preferences was really not close at all, but they had only known each other for a few minutes. They had months to get to know each other better… by standing in total silence. Yup, this was perfectly fine.

Oh sweet Dust this was going to be a long day.

#rwby #rwby oc #rwby fanfiction #lsor #insomniacfics

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