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adorabledonutunicorn · 3 years

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New Eyes

CW: Some internalized homophobia

Warning: This is 15 pages on Google Docs so it’s long. This is a combination of poems I’ve written over the past year or so (if my timeline is correct) about realizing and processing through some of my past crushes. It took me til version 4 to shift my perspective and not be ashamed of how I felt about these people. It’s kind of depressing to think that it took me no less than 4 years to get rid of the shame surrounding my sexuality, and even still I have my days, but in this case it makes for a nice arc that comes to accept everything by the end. In case you’re interested here’s a brief background on each person. I’m gonna go off since it’s already the length of a chapter of a book lmao.

1. She is literally the reasons for all of this. She was someone who I’ve known since middle school because we were in the “accelerated math group” together. She was always popular, but something always struck me differently about her. During our sr year of high school I sent her a message on Facebook and we had a few conversations on there. We were the only girls in our math class by this time and tbh we had more conversations online than we ever did in-person...we even sat next to each other in class omfg.

2. This one is about a friend I met in college. She was pretty, full of joy, and has a nice smile so I’m a very simple person when it comes to being attracted to people lol. I forced myself to get over it quickly and I’m thankful we still talk sometimes despite never really hanging out outside of the Christian group we were in lol.

3. Damn, this one’s about the friend referenced in “To see her smile again”. She’s literally just too perfect and the day I realized I got butterflies when she walked into the room was the day I fully realized/accepted that okay there’s more to me than being straight. I still don’t know how or why she loved me so well.

4. This one is about a friend I met in college, literally on the first day I was there. We were both in the same orientation group and were both so awkward we somehow stuck around together all 4 years lmao. Idk if she’s just awkward around me only or everyone, but by the end I could feel some kind of unspoken tension between us, especially after we went to see a play for the theatre class we took that was about Stonewall lol. A part of me wanted to say something but another part of me thought that maybe she was in a different place in the same journey of discovering her sexuality. The funniest part is that on Valentine’s Day I think a year ago we DM’ed on Instagram for 5 hours str8 (gay).

5. Aah yes, just another one of my Twitter crushes. Jk the first Twitter crush oooh! It took me like a good 6 months to fully accept said crush and like another 6 months to fully get over it. Truly I wish her all the best and all the healing.

V1.0

Once upon a time, These eyes grazed the truth

They saw the surface They saw someone With so much purpose

A life with a heart Transcending barriers and A mind with the ability To achieve great things

A person so pure Hiding their true self within Yet solid and confident in Serving

It was this willingness Intelligence Freedom To get lost in music and dance Goodness Integrity That led me to believe You were one of the most beautiful people I had ever seen.

And this, Is the truth that these eyes Could see

Objectively, Honestly, Truthfully, As transparently as Any teacher Any observer Any friend Knew you to be.

Yet still, My mind seems To have forsaken me.

What I know now Is what I failed to admit then What I replay in my head Is what I am slowly learning To accept within

It brings me shame To let these emotions Finally come in

And it brings me pain, Because that's not how I want to remember How and why This was perhaps, the "best" end.

I want to remember The objective observations The person we all saw, Not just me

I want to remember Rightfully, The words you said to me

I want to remember How I tried to look inside you So deeply

And how you gracefully Eloquently Opened up to me.

All I hope Is that these memories mean At least half of what they do to you As they do to me.

Even if I Can now look in this mirror And see, Say these words to myself Breathe And let them be,

I will never forget What you meant To everyone You met.

But because I tried To look so deep Because I tried To love you as you were, As you are I ended up finding something Only these eyes now Could see.

I cannot say That I fell in love With a fantasy

Because love Is so vast and deep

But there was A new feeling inside of me An emotion I would hide Because I never wanted it to be Outside For anyone To see.

I look back at these moments That replay inside my mind From every bathroom anxious tear I cried Unknowingly Became the catalyst For this "why"

Why was I so anxious And afraid? But that won't explain Why did I even feel The way that I did?

I didn't want to I pushed it down So easily It took me almost 5 years To finally accept This story That lingered inside of me.

Once I see A heart, soul, human life To love, I jump in wholeheartedly

Because I guess That is just who I am, Who I was made to be.

But I didn't expect That I'd be here Confronting these Treacherous conflicting feelings That to the casual observer Make it seem like It was all for me, Self-motivated Self-intentioned Just to set my eyes on something I could not define At the time.

If not me If I can't believe it, I hope you know Remember And see That regardless of what I felt The words we never said Still give you more Than a thousand reasons To keep on breathing And to keep on being The beautiful person We all knew You'd grow to be.

V2.0

Imagine What this heart can do Imagine What this heart can feel What these eyes Can see inside Before the mind Redraws the lines.

Imagine God's truth Willfully entering the soul Revealing more

Than I could ever know But all that I feel Is beyond words.

Imagine That what is beyond words Is not beyond shame

In fact, Shame has now met these emotions And tainted this love, The love the Lord has given To this heart of mine

This love that was pure Of good intention Is now questioned, Because of the reality, My reality, The way my mind sees

I can only perceive What these eyes gaze upon And the brain processes, filters, Through its many recognized colors

I cannot see What was not meant for me And what is Beyond me.

With these eyes, Imperfect and perhaps blind, They let me look upon a face Labeling it within me as shame Instead of grace

I used to be able to see, What I thought so innocently, Now a darkened fiend Of what was made A friend

What has now surfaced Became lies What has harbored Is judgment Internally, And nocturnal I have become

This is merely Not what I wanted to see But rather A predator where it meets its prey Onlooking the target Ready to strip Its life away

But here, This life is dignity Of the soul across the room Once the prime and primitive Instincts and defense mechanisms activate, There is no more reason, No way That words will ever be able To explain.

This Feels lost Feels lonely Like no one but me Will understand clearly That I love Deeply Wholly I dare say beautifully Whether or not these feelings Are just my feelings Or beyond Only my reality.

Because reality Is subjective Different between both you and me But somehow still We may find common ground Where the images our minds outline Overlap and see the same

It is here, where more than I Can finally understand. It is here, Where words are no longer the enemy But the potion and antidote To this shame

For this shame Has met humility Vulnerability The courage To be me

Even if The whole world will never know I know the whole world Will never understand, I still stand With my heart tall Convicted with truth Rooted in the Lord's Truth That you are so beyond and Better than beautiful It fills me With awe.

V3.0

These new eyes that have seen Change unfolding Have also seen Love unraveling.

From all the sweetness And fondness Of pure untarnished memories, To what I don't know if I know How to see,

This is me Raw and untouched Naked and ashamed To have loved The friend who was Never meant For me.

Blessed was I To have found one So faithful and kind For once not out of reach But yet still Out of my league With all the riches Of intelligence to joy And of course A smile that was not For the faint of heart to see

I have loved before, For it was here I found love In the purest form First, foremost, Of friendship

It was here Where every good thing That resonated inside me Grew tenfold With this unknown blessing That I had fathomed to know Beyond blessings ever received.

Yet, Little did I know, It took courage To love this way. Selfless Never ill-intentioned I tried to be Until the end.

It was generously That she gave me And so kindly Yet humbly I tried to give back Never feeling like What I gave was enough, As she so gracefully Accepted everything Speaking to me without words It was more than enough.

There is not a single soul That I have met Who could ever be Her Anything like her, Who could also be Or will likely ever be My friend.

It was on the days We left, Where our presences departed Where I had no regrets

But it was then When I realized The sadness and grief Was yet the loss Of love, Including the Lord's Love.

It was she, Who lamentably taught me How butterflies felt Inside me All the way To fear and shame Of this very discovery

As well as The best hugs Any person may probably ever give me.

There is no one like her, And there is no one better for her Than her husband, And this I know, It is he who I know To be faithful, kind, Courageous, righteous, Steadfast and Unconditionally loving

But somehow, I ask the Holy Spirit Did you bring her Here To teach me About love, faithfulness, and joy? Did you bring her Here To show me light in the world Once more? Did you bring her here To have a friend for once, To give me courage to speak, To love a friend deeply? And did you bring her here So that I could love so deeply That I found this part of me?

I can still say To this day That I have No regrets About anything I Have written or said To this friend, The greatest gift, A catalyst For this journey, And the one who gives The best hugs With the sweetest smiles I’ll ever be blessed to receive.

V4.0

Once where A new era began, A seed was planted In the mere probability of our existence

We did not find each other We stumbled upon one another In a way where awkwardness Was the main contributor To our similarities

Yet you stayed And I of course, stayed Somehow we relished In a relieving familiarity

Perhaps, It brought us together For that reason.

But what we had And what we have Has grown from a seed,

Watered, waiting We are here Where I never thought we would be: Friends now far away, Yet still able to relate

But even then What does it mean? It may not mean much of anything.

For a fleeting feeling Lines the nerves of my being Extremities tense While the rest of me at peace

For this is the only awkwardness We have known to overcome, Time and time again, —I never know Where your thoughts go

There is so much to be learned So much we will never know But in each other, We have still grown.

Maybe this is the best feeling I would never have known If I were not able To express it freely

Maybe one day Our lives not our hearts Will collide Telling the same story Of who we were always meant to be.

V5.0

To Jade, A jewel of always Every color but green,

Your story is a wonderful epic, Tales of travels That never grow old

They write an unapologetic narrative Of every highest mountain top And every lowest valley

You have climbed as high Just as much as you Have fallen down and cried

And I, I so wished to see and to learn Of every broken piece to your life That you thought you needed to earn

But I, Even with good intentions Fell into a hole I could not climb

I embraced every part At the expense of my joy Only adding To my despair

But you taught me What strength and courage Could be

To say it is easy To wake up every day Without the one Who loved you most Is irreparable As much as he was irreplaceable

To say the scars it leaves behind Are mere wounds of the flesh to be tended to Would simply be a lie

But still I Fell in love with What it could look like To see you wake up every morning And choose life

For there is nothing more brave As the story you write And continue to write.

I still stand by And wish to look upon your life To see how far you've come

But at least I've passed beyond The emotions I feared would last forever

Back then I was confused Back then I was still learning And I thank you for helping me Find who I am

Even if I can never say I fell as deep for love's sake, If I ever find you Stumble upon Or see you I will find the reddest rose And gift it to you

For the honor and memory of your brother And for the honor and memory of you Because sometimes words Will never be enough To describe what will always Be blooming in you (And how you've allowed me To blossom too).

Conclusion / V1.5

Without what happened that night These essays would never have turned to poems

Without the words we never said I wouldn’t have these reasons why I write

You are still as beautiful as the day I met you And the day I left you when I accepted You will remain a memory, not a friend meant for forever Or even for a second

But still, I do not hesitate To smile and be embarrassed Knowing now all That I did not know then That brings clarity, closure, and an end.

I never loved you But I definitely liked you Enough to zone in on Every beat of your heart

Enough to make you see Who you were always made to be And how worthy you are To be you, To be everything you are.

And so here I remain, Content and at peace Knowing I am allowed To never-more be ashamed.

#new eyes #shame #bisexuality #questioning #unrequited love #peace #joy #crushes #poem #poetry of tumblr #pride month #pride poetry #this one is long #don't waste your time unless you want to know the story of my life

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metalbatandzenko · 4 years

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all the numbers owo

GrCUnA gaoh god sdljhdkjshfkjsh

This is gonna get long so I’ll put it under the cut. I’m also gonna remove the ones I’ve answered already.

1. What fandoms do you write for?

OPM and AtLA. I have a Miraculous Ladybug fic, but the creator is a nightmare and I hate the way the show treats the main character (literally the creator said part of the show’s episode formula is the main character “learns a lesson” every episode: usually through humiliation) and all the characters of color so I really don’t write for it anymore.

2. What pairings do you write for?

Batarou, Mumensai, and I do general fics.

3. What is your most popular fanfic?

My Miraculous Ladybug fic. By like. a lot akfdjhlgkjhfdlkg

It’s got triple the subscriptions and bookmarks, double the hits, and more kudos than any of my other fics. And I haven’t updated since January.

4. Do you write original stories as well?

I do! I’m a creative writing major, so I do a lot of memoir nonfiction and poetry, but I also write fictional short stories.

5. What fanfic of yours should everyone have read?

I don’t think there is one! Different strokes and all. But if you weren’t aware, I’m working on an ATLA fic rn about Zuko trying to repair his relationship with Azula. Not for this fandom, but a fun fic for me because it’s a bit out of my wheelhouse.

6. What is a fandom you will never write for?

Out of the ones I’ve been in, voltron.

7. What is a ship you will never write for?

There are...a lot. For the sake of my mental well being, I will not list them. But I will say any ship between a teen and someone in their mid twenties or beyond is a no go for me.

8. Archive of Our Own, FanFiction.net, Wattpad, Tumblr, etc. which platform do you prefer?

Begrudgingly, Ao3. I have my issues with Ao3 and I think I’ve made those pretty clear (and they’ve gotten me into some hot water lmao) but it’s a good place to put fics.

10. How do you stay motivated to finish what you’ve started?

I could not tell you. I am so bad at staying motivated. Certain fics I love writing. Others feel like I’m pulling teeth.

11. What’s your longest fanfic?

Hidden Horns. By a lot. like 20k words a lot.

12. Do you want to break your readers‘ heart or make them laugh?

A bit of both, but I lean towards laughing. The world needs more light.

13. What is your planning process?

Depends on the fic. For short ones or oneshots, there really isn’t one. For longer fics, I’ll have an outline, but a lot of times I’m laying tracks as I go. If I think of a good scene or line, I’ll write it down and just keep it at the end of my doc until it comes up in the story.

15. OCs or no OCs?

OC’s only when they’re necessary for plot. For example, Madame Oshitani in Hidden Horns only really showed up because I needed a piano teacher, and I couldn’t have it be an existing hero. Outside of that, I tend to avoid putting OC’s in fics, because I find them disruptive when I’m reading fics.

16. Do you use sentence starters, writing prompts and/or fandom headcanons for your fanfics?

Sometimes! Hidden Horns was based off of this fanart. If they are, I make sure to note that in the notes.

20. Can we get a list of all of your current available fanfics?

Yeah you got:

A (Not So) Brief Hiatus-Miraculous Ladybug

Promises to Keep-OPM/batarou

Little Boy-OPM/Metal Bat centric

A Game of Chase-OPM/batarou

Not Invincible-OPM/batatou death

Someone Fun-OPM/Mumensai

Date With the Devil-OPM/Mumensai sequel

Something of Note-OPM/Mumensai

Conduct Evil-OPM/batarou

Grief and Other Intangibles-OPM/Zombiedad and CE death

Horns and Fangs Series (Hidden Horns and Fear and Fangs)-OPM/batarou

Spaghetti and Juiceboxes-OPM/Zombiedad and CE

I guess they don't like me but I never figured out why (I guess they think I don't like them either)-ATLA/Zuko reaches out to Azula

21. What’s your shortest fanfic?

Conduct Evil at a whopping 354 words.

23. Long chapters or short chapters?

They vary! Mine tend to be pretty short, like 1k-4k.

24. How many WIPs (work-in-progress) do you’ve got?

*sweats* Like 17 at least

25. How many WIPs will you finish?

Rude to assume I won’t finish all of them eight if I’m lucky

26. First-person-narrative or third-person-narrative?

Third. I hate writing in first person except for in nonfiction.

27. Do you take requests?

Kind of. If people send me an ask that I vibe with, I might write something, but as a general rule, no. I’ve been considering doing commissions though, so if you want to toss a coin to your bitcher lmk

28. I will name you three things (object — scenario — fandom/ship): write a paragraph or two!

I can’t do this one without those three kdjhflkjsdh

29. What’s more difficult? Fanfics or original work?

They’re difficult in different ways, but original is way harder.

Original work means there’s zero scaffolding to build off of except for the scaffolding you make yourself, and there’s a lot of issues with worldbuilding and creating complex and relatable characters.

Fanfic relies on a solid understanding of existing characters and dynamics, as well as the internal logic of the world. The scaffolding is there, but often times it’s stifling.

30. What writing software do you use?

Word and Google Docs fkjhslgkjh

31. Do you use beta/sensitive readers?

Nope. I probably should though.

32. Past or present tense?

Past. I can’t consistently write in present.

33. Do friends and family know that you write fanfics?

Some of my friends do. I’ve shared some with them! I use fanfic as warmup, so a lot of my writing friends know about my fics.

34. How did you find the world of fanfics?

I wrote Adventure Time fanfic on middle school and published them on an Adventure Time facebook group. They were wildly popular in the group.

36. Did you ever delete a work of yours?

I don’t think so tbh.

37. Did your work ever get plagiarized?

If it did, I wouldn’t know. But I highly doubt it.

38. Do you partake in any fanfic/writing events? (Big bangs, zines, NaNoWriMo, etc?)

No because I can’t stick to a deadline.

39. Collaborations or working solo?

I’ve never done a collaboration before.

41. What is something you don’t like about your writing?

I rely really heavily on dialogue and I’m suuuper aware of it. I think the thing is I do a lot of domestic fics, and even my story fics tend to be pretty domestic. I’m looking at you Hidden Horns

My original work doesn’t tend to lean on it as heavily.

43. Guilty pleasure tropes and scenarios?

I am a die hard found family bitch. Nothing guilty about it.

44. Does fanart of your fanfic exist?

Yes, actually. The aforementioned middle school fic got mini fancomic for the first chapter, and I wrote a Miraculous Ladybug ficlet in a fic chain that got fanart.

45. Do fanfics of your fanfic exist?

I think there might be one that was inspired by my fic, but I can’t remember tbh.

47. What fanfic of yours is truly underrated?

My ATLA fic!!! give it some love tf :/ (kidding of course.)

50. Can we get a teaser for an upcoming chapter?

Yeah, here you go:

The hero removed his coat and dropped it on the ground, where it landed with a solid “thud”.

He unhooked the holster under his arms, removed a knife from both boots, and unstrapped the machetes from his back.

They joined the trench coat in the pile.

Garou watched in equal parts awe and horror as Zombieman continued to produce weapons from increasingly improbable locations.

Finally, when the pile at his feet was large enough to arm a private militia, Zombieman stopped.

“I’ve got a pistol in my chest, but I’d prefer not to take that one out,” he said, pushing past Garou. “Feels rude to invite myself over then get blood all over the tatami.”

#hidden horns #Anonymous

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korpuskat · 5 years

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Summary: Six weeks. You shake your head, press the warm plastic directly to your belly. The muscles there begin to relax and you watch as a talk show begins. Six weeks and finally it would all be over. Rating: Explicit (citrus, violence) WC: 7,131 Warnings: Violence against reader, menstruation >Chapter 1 >Chapter 2 >Chapter 3 >Chapter 4 >Chapter 5 >Chapter 6 >Chapter 7 ======

You stand on your porch and kick the rug back into place. The wind last night had turned up one corner and dragged it just far enough to not hide the staining beneath. You sip your coffee and drag a chair over to hold down the troublesome corner with one leg.

It’s not a pretty thing- just a brown woven mat that covers between the stairs and your front door. You’d taken the time to paint your stairs- and the columns on each side a fresh, fetching blue, but painting your whole porch would be much harder. So you didn’t bother. You’d scrubbed it down with bleach to remove as much as you could and eventually gave in and just bought the rug to cover what you couldn’t scrub free. Which was a lot.

If you squint you can make out the road through the white blankets of snow. You’re sure there’s a dark green car nestled up on the shoulder of the country highway with two freezing people inside, one with binoculars pressed up to the glass. You’d spoken with them a week ago, even brought them hot cocoa as a peace offering. They’re just there to remind you now.

It’s freezing out, long icicles hang from the roof over your porch and the handrails. But you stand there, warm your hands on your cup and peer out into the distance. You want something other than a forest green sedan. You want to see something other than a tan hat peeking over the snow mounds when one of them has to piss. So you stand there and scan the trees, hope the eyes you feel on you are not just the police’s.

The wind kicks up and you shiver, duck back inside before your coffee cools too much. January had arrived with a vengeance, bitter cold and unpleasant and with a violent snowstorm. It had snowed again two days ago, the perfect fields untouched around your house. Not a single set of footprints maring the pristine surface.

You had no need to leave now. Your house was back in working order, save for some items the police kept under lock and key in hopes that Michael Myers would turn up again.

The idea of Michael in court- maybe even trussed up in a suit- made you smile.

You settle onto your couch, curled up in one corner as you flick the television on. You rub at another painful cramp in your belly as the static fades. The news plays, an update on the families of four fallen officers. A man weeps and recalls his husband’s bravery and valor and the horrors of not even being granted an open casket for closure. It changes to a woman speaking about her brother, you recognize her.

She’d lain flowers at the end of your porch one morning. When you stepped out she startled and something dangerous flashed in her eyes. She kept it reigned in and curtly explained herself and left. She hasn’t returned. The yellow flowers she’d left are frozen solid, preserved in ice.

In the end, you were tried only in the court of public opinion.

”Simply not enough evidence.” The district attorney had said, gritting out the words. There was outrage; two men had been murdered on your doorstep, a murderer’s fingerprints all over your house. Blood soaked deep into every crevice of your home. You were complicit.

You are complicit.

Hateful letters appeared in your mailbox for the first week- sometimes worse.

And then it leaked. Some broken-hearted nurse somewhere dropped your medical evaluation online.

Paragraphs upon paragraphs of dutiful descriptions of the bruises, new and old, on your arms, neck, hips, and thighs. The half-healed perfect impression of Michael Myers’ teeth on your shoulders, your chin. Invasive, personal details- inflamed, bruised cervix. Scrawled in nearly unreadable doctors’ handwriting: Definite proof of insemination.

And after it all, there were pictures. At least the nurse had conveniently excluded the more revealing photos. But even the initial exam had been damning. Your eyes were glazed over and far away, empty. Too easy to mistake one kind of trauma for another.

Blues and purples ringed your wrist and neck like gaudy jewelry. Amateur internet detectives even outlined on your neck the shape of Michael’s hands where he’d choked you, pinpointing the exact places where his fingers met at the back of your neck.

The outrage turned overnight- you were a victim. Coerced became the word they liked, coerced over duress or hostage. Why else would anyone help Michael Myers?

The hate mail faded, replaced with tearful outcries of the injustice. Well-wishers hoping your life would get better, more than a few requests for interviews. You politely declined them all, answered only once that you simply wanted your life back.

And you had it. More or less. There were still faded bloodstains on your porch and two empty slots in your knife block. Your bed was empty, but neatly made.

Another cramp makes you flinch and press harder into the skin between your navel and the hem of your jeans. The caffeine of your coffee was not helping, but you enjoyed the warmth too much to set it aside. You even had that back in your life- the stress of it all had pushed your cycle back and bloodless through November and December. Come the new year, it finally retaliated. You’d rather it stayed a thing of the past, but in an unfortunate way, being surrounded by blood was becoming familiar.

But your life was not quite complete. There was only one thing missing; it would snow again tonight.

The thought brings a warmth through your chest. You don’t know how you know, can’t begin to explain how you know. The police released you from “protective custody” a month ago, but even still they lurk at the street. They wander through the Mortons’ property in guise of looking for evidence, yet they stare to your little cabin. He hasn’t been able to get close enough yet, not without a conspicuous trail of bodies.

It could have all been a blood bath. He could’ve killed every cop that touched you, reclaimed you and resumed your frantic run. It’s what the police expected, a mindless killing machine to appear at your door again. They even wonder if he’s dead now- why else would he stop?

You want to laugh at them, want to scold them for thinking of him as something so lowly. He’s smarter than that. The clean snow that surrounds your home tells you so.

You finish your coffee, push down on your belly before the next wave of pain comes. The news moves on as you leave the living room, move into the kitchen. You’ve been waiting for this.

You cleaned the slow cooker a week ago and froze some beef chuck. You pull that out and leave it in the sink to begin to thaw. The slide of a knife out of your block feels taboo, a personal little thrill as you begin to cut up vegetables. It’s wrong. You don’t stop smiling.

Though it hasn’t thawed much, you drop the beef right in the center of the ceramic pot. You scrape carrots and onions and potatoes into the slow cooker, pour in water and broth and a healthy mix of spices. It’ll be done by nightfall; if he liked your soup, he should enjoy your pot roast.

The thought warms you, bring a queasy sort of calmness. Like the forest when the wolf is near. You plug in the slow cooker and set a timer. You’ll be ready. You’re sure it’s tonight.

With that beginning to heat, you pour another cup of coffee. A pang from your belly reminds you how terrible caffeine is on your period. You curse at nothing and realize one other thing you’re still missing. You should’ve remembered! He’ll need bandages and you need medication. Especially for when he arrives.

Your ibuprofen is tucked inside the first aid kit the police kept as evidence. You haven’t replaced that yet. You’ll have to go old-fashioned on it. An old plastic water bottle is good enough. You turn the hot tap on full blast, dipping your fingers under the water and waiting for it to heat. You fill the bottle, listen to the quickly rising pitch. When it’s bursting you screw the cap on and take your improvised heating pad with you to the living room.

Six weeks. You shake your head, press the warm plastic directly to your belly. The muscles there begin to relax and you watch as a talk show begins. Six weeks and finally it would all be over.

You start to doubt yourself when the shadows of the trees stretch long over glistening snow. Your heart hurts, anxiety rearing its ugly head. What if you were wrong? No, no. He’d be back. He came back twice before. Had he finally gotten what he wanted from you? It can’t be- surely that’s too much to invest just to have sex when he could’ve taken it so much earlier.

You pull a pillow to you and hug it close, push the warm bottle flush with your skin. The first whiff slides in from the kitchen. He’ll be back. You press your eyes closed and hope you’re right. He liked your soup too much.

It’s cold. You blink awake- it’s dark in the living room. The TV plays on, bathing the room in too-bright, multicolor lights. You rub at your arms through the sweater- it’s damn cold. Too cold. It’s never been that drafty before-

The kitchen light is on. You stand, water bottle and pillow dropping to the floor with a thud and wump. You step closer. Your heart soars; wet boot outlines track down the hallway and around the corner- you can hardly breathe.

You peek into the kitchen. The rich smell of the cooking- or perhaps cooked- pot roast fills you, helps to fight off the chill that bites through your sweater. But aside from the light being on, the kitchen is empty.

Thrill overtakes disappointment; the puddly bootprints are still there. They stop in the middle of the hallway already smaller and thinner than the larger, glistening pools towards your bedroom. He should be here, you know, but if he hadn’t woken you… You follow the bootprints backwards, down the dark hallway and into your laundry room.

Wind whistles, fresh snow pours in through your back door. Outside, a single set of tracks from the trees are already filling in in the falling snow. You grin- A single set of tacks. He’s here. You’d left it unlocked just for him, had been leaving it unlocked for weeks. Your smile hurts its so wide.

You kick the snow aside and push the door closed, squint against the freezing winter wind that chaps your cheeks. It closes- and suddenly your house is all too quiet, the buffeting sounds of the storm locked out once more.

You turn, heart beating out of your chest- but the doorway to the laundry room is still empty. The little bits of half-melted snow on the tiled floor confirm again he’s been here and yet he hides. You creep back towards the hallway.

What if it wasn’t him?

The first touch of alarm slides over you. If you had an intruder… you carefully wrap your hand around the molding and peek one eye around the edge. You gasp, shoot upright-

A hand, big and cold wraps around your throat. He turns, slams you into the wall at the end of the hallway. Your cry doesn’t make it past his palm, your hands find his chest, dig your nails into thick fabric-

And he presses in close to you; you smell machine oil and rust and long dried blood. Low and steady breathing, made louder through the tiny nose holes. Above you empty black eyes bore into you, the plain emotionless face of a white latex mask ghostly in the low light. You sag in his grasp, fingers twitching to pull him closer. ”Michael.”

He stares down at you, stiff and unchanging. It’s about as warm a welcome as you expected. But he’s here, he’s not out slaying your neighbors, and you can’t hide how comforting his presence is. Even as he makes your heart race, makes your hands tremble with the growing tension- you’d rather him be here.

He leans in close, close enough for you to feel his hot breath escaping the mask, close enough for you to smell the bitter, metallic tang of old blood deep in the crevices of the mask. He’s nearly cheek-to-cheek with you, white latex fills the left side of your vision- and air whistles in through the nose holes.

He stands there- then slowly cocks his head. He switches hands smoothly, his left coming around your throat before you even realize the right hand has moved to his mask. He pushes the latex up; it’s awkward and difficult with one hand, but he lodges it over his nose and leans close again.

You whimper, close your eyes expecting the sharp imprint of his teeth- and get only cold air pulled over your shoulder, the long noise of Michael’s slow inhale. He’s smelling you. The thought makes your blood rush- what does he find? He moves close, septum almost touches your skin as he sniffs again.

His head tilts the other way. Cold fingers slide under your shirt, pushing the thick sweater up. He feels your stomach, the chill permeates your skin, makes you cramp again. You flinch, flex your stomach away from him in protest- it does not go unnoticed. The mask tips to look at your face- and he rucks your shirt up. He looks at your stomach, runs his hand over your skin, searching for something.

He doesn’t find it. He leans in close again, inhales just over your navel, makes you squirm. He pops the button to your pants and pulls them down to your knees without unzipping them. Cold air makes your skin prickle, makes you press your thighs together, but Michael’s quickly warming hands make up for it. Again, he feels over your skin with probing, curious fingers.

He tips his head again, this time releasing your throat in favor of dragging his hand down to your sternum. He pushes there, makes you short of breath and keeps you pressed to the wall.

And Michael Myers sinks to his knees before you. You don’t have to meet his icy blue eyes to know he still has all the control. His right hand is almost delicate as it curls into the hem of your underwear and slides the thin fabric down your thighs. His mouth twitches at the sight of your bloodied pad.

You think you know what he was smelling. You flush, feel your cheeks heat in embarrassment and wish he’d stop his exploration already.

His fingers slip between red-tinged labia for only a moment. You whimper as he brings the now bloody digits before his eyes, looks closer. The suffocating presence fills the hallway, threatens to drown you then and there.

His left hand grabs your hip hard; the right delves between your legs, brushes harshly against your over-sensitive clit and finding your entrance. You bite your lip to stifle a cry, nails scraping on the wall as he pushes just the first knuckle inside. It should feel amazing- the first time he’s been inside you at all since the motel. But you’re too sensitive, too tender-

He withdraws just as fast, makes you clench your jaw. The hand at your hip is bruising, demanding your attention- and he holds up the two bloody fingers before you. They glint in the moonlight that seeps in from the laundry room. You can’t see his eyes but you know from the painful bite of his nails in your skin that you’re in danger. Chills race down your back, adrenaline floods your veins. Something just short of rage leaks from his fingers into your thigh.

You don’t know why he’s so furious, that makes it so much worse. He looks to you and you know he expects something from you. why has your blood infuriated him? You can only hope he’ll be more helpful if he knows you don’t understand. “What’s wrong?”

It’s the wrong question. He’s upright before you can blink, the bloodied hand wrapped tight around your throat. It’s clear now the grasp he’d used before was only for control, for keeping you still and where he wanted you. This time his fingers bite into the base of your skull, pressure from his palm makes your vision staticky.

Real fear makes you twist your fingers into his coveralls, stare wide-eyed into the mask’s eyeholes. His mouth is distant, and horrifically emotionless. His voice is the same monotone, disconnected from the rage in his fingertips. A single grunting word. “Who?”

Your mind races. He was mad- you were bleeding- You can barely form words over the pressure on your throat. “Who… hurt me? Michael, I-“

He growls, deep and primal, and surges forward. He’s hard, grinding up on your side through the coveralls. You whimper, fight off fear and lightheadedness to chase any possibility. Rage, blood, he’s hard, sex maybe-

Oh.

It’s not rage, it’s jealousy.

You shake your head, only making your vision swim harder. “Nobody, nobody.” You tap at his hand weakly in a plea for air. ”Michael.”

The suffocating presence does not subside, but his thumb eases off your jugular. You blink, feel your head bobbing. “It’s my period. People with…” you pant, wish there was a better way to explain, but between the hypoxia and Michael’s limited patience you opt for fast over comprehensive. “vaginas just, bleed sometimes. It’s not… It’s not a sex thing, Michael.”

He doesn’t relax, keeps the same threatening hand over your neck. You squeeze his wrist in what you hope he understands is meant to be sincerity. “There’s nobody else, Michael. Just you. Only you.” You pause, seek the mismatch of his eyes. “Ever.”

Only then does his head begin to tilt, a long moment passing before the bloody, violent hand loosens around your neck. You sigh, lean back against the wall. The mask sweeps over you, slow and deliberate. His right hand slides down your body, over your bunched up sweater and down over your belly, brushes through the dark hair- and nudges back between your legs.

You whimper, “It’s sensitive…”

Michael doesn’t seem to hear you. He doesn’t look up, but instead brings his middle finger back up where you can see it. It’s glossy, near black in the low light, just as it had been before. And Michael brings it close to his lips- You can hardly breathe.

His pink tongue slips out and licks, long and slow, over his fingertip. He isn’t looking at you. This isn’t for you. His head tips slowly as he considers something, thoughts hidden behind his mask.

He grabs at the rolled-up fabric of your jeans caught on your thighs, thumbs curling into the leg holes of your underwear as well and shoves. You yelp as he forces them down, your skin exposed to more cold air. You shiver, go back to digging your nails into the wall because you know well enough you can’t stop him now. You even lift you leg so he can tug the denim off one leg- and he settles that thigh onto his shoulder.

The cold air dries the blood to your skin, making it prickly and stiff, pulling at the hair on your thighs. Even on his knees, Michael comes right up to your sternum. He presses the palm of his hand to your stomach, a silent command to stay still.

You cup your hands over your mouth, hold your breath- and can’t stifle a gasp as his tongue, scaldingly hot on your cold skin, touches to your thigh. He licks at the blood drying there, slow and methodical. HIs hand fits easily under your knee, pushes your leg out farther so he can find more. His scruff scratches at your skin, tickles your inner thigh, and his tongue delves into the sensitive crease between hip and thigh.

You squeak, instinctively try to bring your legs back together- but Michael’s hand is firm under your knee. The mask tips up in warning; with anyone else you might complain that you can’t control if he’s the one tickling you, but Michael’s already wound up. He’s rough enough when you’re compliant, you’re not sure what he’d be like if you were obviously rebellious.

But his tongue laves across your inner thigh again, saliva chilling uncomfortably on your skin, until your skin is pink with diluted blood. A ghost of teeth on your skin is the only warning you get.

He sinks in, ripping at the delicate flesh there and you try so hard not to squirm too much. Your nails scrape on the wall behind you and you cry for mercy, “Ow! Michael, please, fuck!” He ignores you, sucks hard there until you’re sure he’ll really take a bite out of you.

He lets go with a wet pop, freezing air somehow better than the painful heat of Michael’s mouth. At least it doesn’t feel like he broke skin this time.

With your weight on the other leg, his cheek presses fully to the warmth between your legs for him to taste the blood that’s gathered on the other thigh. You whine, rock gently against him in hopes he’d understand. But Michael is in no hurry, his patience is near unlimited- and he holds all the control.

He cleans the blood from you with a twisted jealousy- he’d been furious at the thought of someone else making you bleed. That makes a cold shiver shake your shoulders. He wants your blood for himself, he wants to be the one to make you bleed. He has and he will again, you’re sure of it.

He gives the other leg only a nip, a glancing scrape of his teeth that still makes you stiffen, ready yourself for the piercing pain of his bite. Instead he sets your leg on his shoulder, slides his palm close to your body. The blood has stuck some of your short hairs together, they tug and part painfully as his thumb slips between your labia and pulls your pussy open.

Being watched now while you’re bleeding is just as exposing as when he’d peered so observantly at you before. You bite your lip, expectantly watch the mask, still half-wrapped over his nose, as though it would whisper to you what he thought of your body.

You don’t have to wait long.

His tongue swipes over your swollen, irritated clit. You scream, nearly jump out of your skin- it’s too much, the nerves of your pussy too raw to be able to focus on the pleasure behind it. You instinctively try to pull him away- wrap your fingers in long, soft hair and try to make him ease up on this torturous touch-

But all you get is the wobbling of latex, a displeased grunt, and a punitive lash of his tongue against your clit. His right hand still holds you open- so the left curls into the same soft hair you did and pulls the mask off, dropping it to the floor.

His eyes hold you in place even as he his tongue slips deeper, towards the source of the blood. His gaze is icy, dangerous. An edge of a threat written across his scarred face- he’s already warned you to be still once. You can’t help it, the sensation is too much, too powerful on your hormonally-wrecked body; he tries to lick at your entrance and his bumps against your clit.

You sob and reach for him again, weak pleads for mercy already spilling from your lips, “It’s too much, please, please.” Your fingers find his scalp and the short, coarse hair there. Too short to pull him off, you can only push weakly at him. Cool blue eyes narrow- and you cry out as his hand wraps around your wrists. There’s no kindness to his grasp; he pins your hands with brutal efficiency, keeps them just at the end of your sternum to keep them out of his way as he licks into you.

You writhe, fight to free your hands, try to close your legs around him, but he pays you no mind. Only brings your hips forward, away from the wall, so he can press in closer. Each time you twist, his stubble scrapes across your thighs- now so sensitive it burns. You whimper, try to still your movements if only to minimize the pain.

The edge in his gaze softens, his tongue flattens against you and gives a slow lick across your weeping pussy. His attention returns to claiming every drop of your blood, not quite closing his eyes, but no longer focused on you. The briefest pause of his relentless attack makes the wires cross in your brain. Each touch still hurts, sharp pangs of unmitigated pain- and yet the warmth of his tongue, the soft texture as he slides down to suck at the bottom edge of your labia.

He tongues into you, just barely slipping the tip of his pointing tongue in- and his nose presses to your clit again. You whimper, close your eyes, and rock against him. The motion sets your thighs alight again. You shake and try to spread them wider- which is hard enough with one leg propped up on his shoulder, but you roll your knee out to try to give you at least a little more room.

He pushes closer, grinds the bridge of his nose into you. You sputter and grind back- pain and pleasure warring under his touch. He slides up, wraps soft lips around your clit. Your head thrashes back and forth, shaking desperately to get away and to pull him closer.

You look to him- and his eyes are trained only on you. The piercing blue and milky white hold you, makes your breathing stutter to a stop- until his tongue laves slow and purposeful across your clit. He draws the moan from you and the dangerous glint in his gaze returns. Your reaction has caught his interest again.

You whimper and he licks your clit again, the point of his tongue edging from bottom to top, pushing the hood of your clit back. You jerk under him, whine, his tongue already returning for another swipe, slow and steady. Your mouth falls open, breath caught in your chest as you can’t decide between a gasp and a scream.

He continues on, lapping at your clit with merciless precision- tears burn at the corners of your eyes and you know he wants it to hurt. He passes over you again, warm and repetitive, and you want to beg him to stop- it’s so good and it hurts and he’s made you suffer enough, but-

The pain has masked how good it really feels. Stimulation good or bad has been pushing you up and up. All at once pleasure is winning out and you’re right at the edge and you’re gasping, head lolling back against the wall. It’s all too raw, too acute on your senses- but the first wave of your orgasm crashes over you- and Michael does not stop his incessant torture. You shake, grinding against him without even feeling the burning rub of his whiskers across your thighs and labia. You wobble on your one leg and hope Michael would catch you if you fell.

You don’t have to worry; his hand securing your wrists keep your torso pressed to the wall, no matter how hard you buck. And he still doesn’t stop, moving back down to lick languidly at your entrance, tasting your release. You tremble in the aftershocks, each motion of his tongue on your skin brings a new skittering pleasure until you’re whimpering with soft pleas for him to stop.

You yelp with a startled, ”Oh!” as he stands, your leg falling from his shoulder to sit in the crook of his arm. He stares down at you, and in the low light you can see the sinful red discoloration of his beard, the proof of his bloodlust. He lets go of your wrists, and your arms fall limply to your sides. He reaches to his crotch- and, oh. These are new coveralls, nice ones, the kind with a double zipper. He unzips no more than he needs to, withdrawing his cock and revealing nothing else.

He’s expressionless, cool and guarded even with how much he’s already made a mess of you. He presses his cock against you and oh, the heat of his mouth was nothing compared to this. He ducks down for a moment- and his three-fingered hand slips under your other leg and hefts you up. You grab at the wall on instinct- your shoulders and neck still grounded, but your lower body is supported only by your legs caught on his elbows.

It only makes you more aware of how much control he has, how strong he is- that you can’t escape him now. You draw an inhale through your mouth and stare up at his eyes. He’s so hard to read, but you can’t imagine he’s not enjoying the frantic too-fast pace of your breathing, the hammer slam of your heart against your ribs. He adjusts- and lodges himself right up against you.

You bite your lip, push away that same feeling of overstimulation- and he fills you in one brutal thrust. It knocks you against the wall, nearly folds you body in half as he moves closer, finds just how he wants to hold you. His hands seek out your wrists again, pin you down to the wall, and like this, you can’t even move.

He rocks into you again- and though it hurts- he’s too big and your period has you too sensitive, you moan and let your eyes fall half-closed. It feels right, feels like what you’ve been missing for so long. He fills you entirely to bursting, his pubic bone meeting your clit with each roll of his hips.

It’s too much, but you can’t stop staring at him, can’t stop the little noises that slip from your lips unbidden- and he draws them out with such precision. A liquid heat settles inside you, your first orgasm easing the way for you to numbly bypass the too sharp pain. His cock bounces against your cervix and you know you’ll have the same, deep bellyache as before.

With him holding your legs, you can’t even meet his thrusts, can’t get any sort of leverage at all. It feels so good, his cock fills you, even as overstimulation tinges nerves. He moves steadily in his familiar, somehow comforting just barely too hard, achingly slow thrusts. It makes you mewl, scratch your nails against the wall in frustration- you want him to move faster, to bring you that same white hot pleasure. But his pace is as unchanging as his face, cool and unaffected by your growing plight.

Your lip trembles dangerously; hormones have already destroyed your fragile hold on you emotions, Michael’s cruelty was pushing you to the wrong edge. “Michael…” your voice wavers.

His head tips in bland acknowledgment.

“Please,” you know it’s useless to only beg. Everything happens by his will, petty pleadings alone won’t change his mind. Maybe something else would. You lick your lips, inhale slowly to draw up your courage. “I need you, Michael.”

Something flashes in his eyes, his fingers tighten around your wrists. He shifts you in his arms, urges your legs higher onto him, tilts your hips back further. He doesn’t say anything and other than the intensity in his eyes, he may as well have not heard you at all.

The next drive of his hips you understand. He spears into you, knocks hard against the sensitive patch inside you before sliding in deep. You gasp, clench around him in the sudden, lightning pleasure- the next thrust makes you cry out. Pleasure builds fast as Michael’s hold on you stifled the instinctive, rhythmic rocks of your hips. The heat deep within threatens to burn out all thought, all rational ideas beyond Michael Myers’ cock inside you.

But as you focus on the liquid pleasure between your legs, the rough impacts of his thighs on yours- your breath catches. The added sensation has your head spinning, but there’s a problem. He’s tortuously slow. No, he’s a sadist.

Another thrust has you mewling, cunt clenching desperately on his cock. Your body pleads on instinct, begs him to stay deep inside, to chase his pleasure with reckless abandon- but all you get is the parting of his lips, soft pants of exertion. Even that makes you feel closer, thinking that he’s enjoying the wet, slick heat of your body. The soft glaze to his eyes, the dusting of pink across his cheeks-

It brings you right to the edge. You’re close before you can even process it, the heat threatening to boil over. You’re moaning and waiting for one more harsh thrust to push you beyond the point of no return-

It doesn’t come. Focus returns to Michael’s eyes before you can find release, his hips stilling while you’re stuffed full of his cock. No, no- frantic desperation overtakes you. Primal need makes you writhe on him, weakly trying to fuck yourself on him.

Your left leg drops- the adrenaline rush of falling ceases all other movements. And it does not stop when Michael’s hand wraps around your throat. You manage to slip an inhale in before he presses down and constricts your breathing. He pushes in close to you, until your body is right up against the wall again. Like this, he fills your vision, reminds you just how tall he is. His intense gaze returns, staring at you with his mismatched eyes- waiting for something.

Hypoxia sets in fast, your mind losing track of what’s happening-

Before he pushes into you again. Pleasure lights up the parts of your brain still functioning. Your eyes roll, but he picks up his pace. Your eyes threaten to close, the darkness collecting in your vision with each passing moment. But his fingers loosen, readjusting so he can deny you even unconsciousness.

Without his arm to support it, your left leg dangles uselessly, waving in time with Michael’s powerful thrusts. With newfound freedom your left hand grabs at his arm- not to beg for air, but only for stability, to pull him closer. Just to feel the fabric of his coveralls under your fingers.

You blink, try to focus- and realize you’re drooling over your chin. A weak moan slips past his fingers, and he’s rutting into you. He grinds against your clit, fills you, rubs deep inside- over and over until it’s all you can think about. His chokehold steals all thought, everything beyond the torture he provides and pleasure that boils over.

It comes in waves, weak and distant with your oxygen-addled brain struggling to keep up between savoring the pleasure and processing the sharp snaps of Michael’s hips. You clench hard around him, vision going double and blurring. You twitch, fingers digging into thick fabric, left leg kicking against his calf. Each motion inside you drags it out, keeps you suspended somewhere outside yourself.

Through the haze you feel hot breath puffing on your cheek and hard grind of his hips. His hand tightens and your ears ring. Low, guttural grunting fills your head, warmth spilling between your legs.

His grasp loosens. Awareness returns with low, shallow gasps. You’re dead weight in his arms, every limb lax and useless, but he holds you aloft, keeps you pressed close to him. He stands over you, breathing slow and even through his parted, chapped lips. The same deceptive peacefulness has descended over his face; his eyes are closed softly, not pinched or pressed- the usual hard edge to his countenance is long forgotten in post-orgasmic bliss. Your free arm, because he still holds the other to the wall, wobbles, but you manage to reach the back of his neck, feel the short hair curl over your fingers.

His lids lift, dark eyelashes fluttering. He looks to you, and you cannot name what lingers behind the soft blue of his iris, but it settles deep behind your ribcage. You grin and know you must look half-crazed, loopy and drugged out and everything else you could call someone who smiles serenely at a serial killer. It doesn’t matter; a laugh burbles up through your chest, soft and airy, and tears prick at your eyes because he’s back and he’s real and oh my god your thighs hurt so much-

He tilts his head, confused by your strange display of mixed emotions- laughing and crying and wincing all at once. You shake your head, dismiss it all. “I missed you.”

His thumb rubs over your irritated throat, you think that’s as gentle as he can be.

He pulls out- you whine at the burning drag on your walls, the whisker burn across your labia and thighs. And wince at the soft, wet dripping noise from the floor. Michael lowers you and steps away- leaves you braced against the wall, struggling not to slide down to the floor. Something slides down your inner thigh and it stings.

Michael’s gaze stays on you for a long moment, watching the heaving of your chest, the absolute mess he’s made between your legs. He looks lower- to his cock. He’s softening already, but his head tips as he looks- and takes it in hand. He doesn’t stroke, but glides a finger over the shaft. You blink, squint, and look closer-

It’s covered in blood and cum. Long red streaks mixing into a milky pink mess of your mutual pleasure. You blanch, remember what had drawn Michael into fucking you in the first place. With what he’s done to your thighs, pads will be excruciating. You sigh, “We both need a bath now.”

His eyes lift and meet yours. Even now he makes you shiver with his intensity. The empty gaze has returned and you mourn for the strange, foreign look that surfaces from time to time. You know it’ll return. But now, Michael’s dopamine and oxytocin slurry has subsided back to his regular difficult self- and you watch, disgusted but not surprised, as he tucks his cock away into the coveralls and rezips himself.

And yet, it almost makes you break out into laughter again. He doesn’t even wipe his hands. He’s disgusting and you’ll probably fuck him again before the night is out.

“Okay, give me a minute then. There’s food in the kitchen if you’re hungry.” You lean on the wall for support and navigate around him back to your room. For now, you leave your pants and underwear in the hallway- you’ll have to clean up later anyway. Footsteps behind you tell you he’s following you. Some things haven’t changed.

You retrieve underwear and a set of pajamas, keeping your legs pressed tight to hopefully minimize any drips. He follows you to the bathroom and stands in the doorway just to watch you clean up. It should be so much more embarrassing, but you’ve held his dick while he peed.

You pee, ignore the tiny smug upturn of his lips that does not disappear when you wipe and wince. In the stark bathroom light you can see the pink tinge that covers your vulva and thighs, along with the red outline of his teeth on your left leg. Honestly, it could be worse. From the first beginnings of a yellow-green shadow over your wrist, it’ll probably all darken more. Your throat throbs in reminder.

You’ll have to wear more scarves. You think that’ll be just fine.

Michael watches, face blank and inaccessible, as you press a pad into fresh underwear and carefully pull it up. It hurts, but you realize something as your skin complains: you’re not cramping anymore. There’s a dull ache behind your belly button where Michael’s dick has tried to pry you open further, but the rolling, sharp pains that would make you double over have ceased.

You change into the pajamas and drop your shirt- the only thing remaining of your earlier outfit- into the laundry hamper.

He follows you to the kitchen- and Michael’s stomach growls. His brows draw together in sharp disapproval of his own body’s noises and you struggle to keep your smile under control. At least he liked the smell. You retrieve two bowls, Michael watches from the hallway as you ladle out the pot roast- making sure to give Michael some vegetables in a vain hope he’ll eat some.

You offer him his bowl- and in the kitchen light you blush at his still dirty hands and the blood caked into his white stubble. Of course. If he can kill without being disgusted at the gore, this probably was clean to him. You shake your head and move towards the living room.

It’s still dark, illuminated only by the television playing an evening police drama. You step towards your normal chair in the corner, only to find Michael’s hand at your side, pulling you with him. You blink up at him in the darkness, but his hand falls away when you stand in front of the couch. He sits and immediately begins devouring messy spoonfuls.

You sit next to him for the first time, feeling the casual touch of your leg against his, the warmth that radiates off him now that he’s out of the snow. You watch him as he stares at the screen, apparently taken with whatever show was playing- and you wonder if this is what he feels like. Watching, wondering what goes on in other peoples’ heads.

Your bowl sits warm in your hands, the thick, hearty smell drifting to you and making your mouth water. You smile at him and lay your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes and enjoying the touch for a moment. The motion of his arm as he eats, the soft noises of his breathing, nearly drowned out by the television.

With your curtains drawn, nobody will know he’s here. Fresh snow will cover his tracks. Nobody will come looking for him. You sigh, open your eyes again- and find the mixed blue and white looking down at you. You press closer, rub your cheek over the thick, rough material of his coveralls, feel the shape of his arm beneath. Three words slip from your lips.

The strange softness returns to his eyes.

=====

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all-hail-the-witcher · 4 years

Text

every book i had to read for english and why i didn't like any of them

i woke up thinking about this and decided to make this post. for context, i went to public school and was on the honors/ap track for english. i am a firm believer that english teachers ruin books for their students inadvertently. this is my experience:

6th grade language arts

we read three books during 6th grade, bridge to terabithia, the cay, and where the red fern grows. and i had to read a wrinkle in time over the summer which i didn't understand like at all so I'm just gonna skip that one honors english was not a thing until 8th grade where i went to middle school so this was a regular english class and i hated it. it was also a double period class for some reason, so i had an hour and a half of language arts every day.

it took us half the year to read bridge to terabithia. i am not kidding. that book is like maybe 100 pages and it took us a good 4-5 months. this is because our teacher stopped us every time we got to a pice of figurative language and made us analyze it. every. single. piece. i got so bored that i read ahead and then got in trouble for reading ahead. needless to say, i absolutely detested bridge to terabithia and would not touch it to this day if my life depended on it.

after bridge to terabithia we read the cay. this took us the rest of the year. the cay is a relatively short book as well so i got bored with this one quickly as well. i really dont remember much about the discussions, but i remember a long one about how the cover was “inaccurate,” which, yes, it was but i dont know if a bunch of 11 and 12 year olds need to spend a week debating that. i think i hated it mostly because, again, we read it for 5 months.

the last three weeks of the school year, our teacher gave us a book and said “here read this before school ends because we have to read three books a year and we only read 2″ (for context, the other language arts class had read about 5-7 books that year and found it insane that we were “still reading bridge to terabithia”) so i read where the red fern grows. all in all it wasn't a bad book, i did kind of enjoy it, but since i was rushed reading it on top of all my other homework and because it was definitely ahead of my reading comprehension level, it wasn't my favorite.

7th grade language arts

now, a bit of a disclaimer here, this was the year that i was in language arts with the guy i had a crush on and one of my close friends at the time. so, i didn't really pay that much attention to begin with. we read quite a few books in this class, but I'm not sure if i remember all of them. again, this was a double period.

i think the first book we read was freak the mighty. i remember not liking this book because i felt like i was missing something. there was definitely some kind of metaphor or something in there that i was supposed to get but because i was literally twelve i didn't get it and i didn't find the meaning in it. theres nothing more frustrating than reading a book that you dont understand.

after that I'm pretty sure we read the wave. it was explained to us that the wave is supposed to symbolize how the n*zis came to power and all that stuff, and while we all knew this, i dont think we really Understood it. (probably because we were 12). we all kinda saw it as a joke and thought it was funny. i think that if i read it now i would be like. “well shit this is really interesting” but 12 year old me wanted to make fun of it with the rest of my class.

i think we read seed folks next. this was another book that just went over all of our heads. its about how a garden changes a whole bunch of peoples lives which is like, super interesting. but none of us got it and were like “lol this is stupid” so much so that we actually stopped reading it. like my teacher stopped having us read it.

I'm fairly certain the last book we read was the miracle worker. a lot of us had had to read parts of it before that class so we were all kinda familiar with it already. i vaguely remember some kind of obnoxious class joke about the book that was probably rude. i remember finding it interesting, but there were so many activities we did about the book that i lost interest.

8th grade honors reading

this class was A Trip. i liked the teacher, but she was a little out there. its unclear whether she got fired or just didn't come back after that year. i had a lot of fun in her class but it was usually because we all bonded over hating the assigned reading.

i dont remember what order we read the books in and i dont remember if this was all of them, but to the best of my recollection this is what we read

we definitely read romeo and juliet. by the time you're in 8th grade, everyone knows the story of romeo and juliet, so it wasn't like that suspenseful or a surprise or anything. but we had to act the reading out. yes we had to act out romeo and juliet. with burger king crowns. and wrapping paper swords. clearly the teacher was trying to have fun with us, and it was fun fun for awhile but it got old. especially when you got participation points taken off your grade if you didn't read for once of the characters (which is massively unfair because not everyone wants to get up in front of a class in a paper crown holding a wrapping paper tube and read in old english when you're 13 but whatever).

we also definitely read animal farm. it was another book that went right over our heads (or, mine at least). i didn't actually really understand it until i had to read the communist manifesto for ap euro senior year. and our teacher talked in a bad russain accent the entire time? i could barely keep the characters straight, let alone analyze the underlying message and all that. now i might actually like it since I'm a history major and have a decent background on the russian revolution, but at 13? no thanks.

the one book that everyone hated (including the teacher herself) was farewell to manzanar. it was a memoir about a young girl growing up in the japanese internment camps and looking back on her life and stuff like that. the story itself was very interesting and we all learned a lot from it. but the person who wrote it did not know how to write. it was confusing, some chapters made no sense, and none of us generally knew what was going on. we had to finish the book because we were the honors class, but the regular class got to stop after chapter 6.

i think we only read 4 books that year and the fourth one was the outsiders. this was one of two books that i actually liked the entirely of my public school education. i kinda vibed with it when we were reading it and then i vibes with it more once i got to high school and rediscovered it. it was just a good book, pretty solid, good themes, fantastic.

9th grade honors english

i absolutely hated this class. hands down the worst teacher i ever had. she was one of those that should have retired 20 years ago but was still teaching for some reason. and she hated kids. legitimately. that was the first time i got a c and it took my parents a long time to realize that it wasn't because of me, it was because the teacher was absolute shit. the only thing that made that class bearable was the fact that my friend was in there and so was this guy that totally like her so he would flirt with her pretty incessantly and it was Hilarious.

we read so many books that year and i hated all of them. a lot of them were like greek dramas and plays? like we read oedipus rex and julius caesar and antigone. and i hated all of them because the teacher made me hate reading and made it seem like a chore.

by far the worst was the old man and the sea. i hated that book, hemingway was terrible. i struggled to find any kind of meaning in it and connected all of my responses to the bible because my teacher loved it when people did that.

we read inherit the wind and to kill a mockingbird and all quiet on the western front which were the only books i found remotely interesting. but i still hated them because i knew that we would have to do her reading quizzes which were impossible so it was pointless to read the book anyway.

and we also read a raisin in the sun. i dont remember what this was even about except that there was some kind of insurance money involved. but by this point we were all really done with our teachers shit and my one friend legitimately said during class “but, ms. [name] if you put a raisin in the sun, doesn't it just get more raisiny?”

10th grade ap english language and composition (american lit)

i loved this class and the teacher but i hated all the assigned reading because we read it for the ap test. everything you read was in the context of having to find themes and shit to write about on the ap. so i didn't really get any of the books for that reason. i think we only read three and they were the scarlet letter, the crucible, and the great gatsby. i kind wish i paid more attention to gatsby and i think i would like it more now but at the time i detested it. we also had to read grapes of wrath over the summer and i hated that. i wanna read books to read them, not to come into school and write essays on them. also the ending was weird and i hated it.

11th grade honors (british lit)

another bad year of english, not quite as bad as freshman year, but still bad. still hated it. i outlined many fics in that class. the teacher did not like me and i did not like her. she also talked in this weird fake almost british but not quite accent that sometimes still haunts my nightmares. she was also one of those backwards feminists who claims they're a feminist but still was sexist in her favorites and the way that she treated people in the class?? after english i had math and my friend (the same girl who said the thing about raisins freshman year) and some others would complain to our math teacher about our english teacher. math was essentially a support group for english where we would discuss answers to reading checks.

over the summer we read 1984, which, cool concept (esp right now) but i hated knowing that i had to find some kind of deep meaning in it because i was going to have to write an essay on it as soon as i came back to school.

from there i think we read beowulf which was interesting. i dont know if we actually read the whole thing or just excerpts but again, i hated looking for meaning.

we read a tale of two cities which was like the one book i actually wanted to read because i am a huge fan of the shadow hunters book serieses and will and tessa quote that book all the time. i think if i had read it to read it it would have been better but first, dickens is wordy and weird and second i dont really wanna have to search out symbolism while I'm reading because its required.

we read macbeth, which i just didn't like. idk why. i just kinda thought it was stupid. i dont really have an explanation for this one. i think it was because we read it in the old english and that confused me a lot of the time.

and we read jane eyre. the only thing i remember from jane eyre was “pathetic fallacy” which is where the mood of the scene is reflected in the weather. i dont wanna dissect a book like that. and also my teacher referred to the book as “jane” but she said it “jAAYYneeE” which was annoying.

12th grade ap lit

dear god. this class. i had issues with this class. our teacher was something. everyone was afraid of him. e v e r y o n e. he ran detention and didn't know how to match his clothes and wore skinny ties. he had three swell bottles the he would bring with him to school every day. people claimed he used to be in a rock band and that was why his voice was so high pitched and weird. some said his wife left him, others said he had a kid. we were genuinely confused by him. he didn't teach, he yelled at you for doing things wrong without giving any instructions on how he actually wanted it done. he made college out to be some big scary thing where we would all be trampled. but mostly, he was an existentialist.

we had to read song of solomon over the summer. i hated it. i didn't hate it because of the messages and all that stuff, no the book itself was good and toni morrison is a great author. i just hated the fact that there was graphic description of incest, necrophilia, or sex at least once every 5-10 pages. i didn't wanna read that. and it turned me off the book. so when he asked us if we liked the book when the year started i said no and i argued with him about it. and he hated me for the entire year.

next i think we read waiting for godot. which was absolutely terrible. its literally a play where nothing happens. it would have been funny except that i knew i was gonna have to write an essay on it. how do you write an essay on a play where nothing happens? literally all of our discussions about it were about existentialism and it was terrible.

we read the metamorphosis, which everyone hated cause it could have been written in like 4 sentences. and our teacher thought he was So Clever for assigning it to us. he thought it was the biggest joke. and he went on and on about how its about existentialism and blah blah. the book would have been funny had he not only discussed it in regards to existentialism.

i think next was hamlet. i would have like hamlet had we not discussed it only through the lens of existentialism. its a good play, but i hated it because of the way he talked about it. even now, i only like it to make fun of the way he liked it. my friend and i send hamlet memes to each other all the time but only cause they remind us of our teacher.

one flew over the cuckoos nest. the second and final book that i actually liked my entirety of school. i dont know why i liked it, but it was just a good book. our teacher also had some kind of weird cowboy trope thing that he thought mcmurphy fell under which i thought was hilarious. the essay i wrote on that book was the only one he wrote “nice job” on and i still have it somewhere

my friend claims that we also read the stranger. i dont really remember what that book was about except some guy shot some people. there was definitely something in it that i didnt get.

anyway in conclusion required reading ruins books. when i told my creative writing advisor that i out of all the books i read for school i only like the outsiders and one flew over the cuckoos nest she was like “yeah, english teachers really ruin books for students”

#this is a very long post #saph screams #english #books n shit #english teachers are so hit or miss #and even if they're good teachers #that doesn't mean that you'll like the books

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ardaaman · 5 years

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The Trident’s Return

Novel Prep Tag

FIRST LOOK

1. Describe your novel in 1-2 sentences (elevator pitch)

Petryn Alenyath, disgraced former governor of the island nation Azmarin, suspects her political successor in the theft of the island’s greatest treasure, a powerful enchanted trident once belonging to Petryn’s ancestor. The only hope she has of reclaiming the governor’s seat lies in recovering the trident and proving her rival’s guilt... but, as every Azmarin native knows, there is always something lurking just below the water’s surface.

2. What is your novel’s aesthetic?

Political intrigue layered with high adventure on the high seas. Pirates and merfolk and magic and creatures from the darkest depths of the ocean.

3. What other stories inspire your novel?

As with The Alchemist’s Curse, everything here originated in D&D. Petryn was a PC in one campaign, then another, then a major NPC in another, and finally she landed here. Arda’aman and its history originated as a campaign setting. Even the plot was modified from a campaign idea I had. Despite all appearances, in a story so rooted in D&D and elemental magic, Princes of the Apocalypse had very little influence on this project, since I’ve never played that module.

The Hobbit, specifically Lake Town, influenced the look and feel of Azmarin’s Serenity District.

Surprisingly enough, I’m also drawing some inspiration from the Princess Diaries movies, since I realized the dynamic I was aiming for with Petryn and Galen was very close to what Queen Clarisse and Joe had. So I bought both movies on Amazon. For research purposes.

4. Share 3+ images that give a feel for your novel

(x) (x) (x)

MAIN CHARACTER

5. Who is your protagonist?

Petryn Alenyath, descendant of one of Arda’aman’s greatest heroes and disgraced former governor of the island city-state, Azmarin.

6. Who is their closest ally?

Galen Glaucus, the son of a dock worker and an undine—an elemental spirit from the plane of water—and the current druidmaster of Azmarin.

7. What do they want more than anything?

She wants to live up to the Alenyath name, to the legacy that carries with it. She wants to do right by her people.

8. Why can’t they have it?

She did have it. For exactly eight years. Then Remora beat her out in the polls and destroyed her reputation, and Petryn... This was Petryn’s whole life, the governorship. She wants it back, and the only way to do that without stooping to Remora’s level is to prove Remora stole the Namoros Trident.

The trouble is, Remora didn’t.

9. What do they wrongly believe about themselves?

In her original incarnation as a PC (and again as a muse on this blog), she wrongly believed that fencing and swordfighting were interchangeable skills, and she still believes that in The Trident’s Return. She’s a champion fencer, and her first instinct after Remora “ousts” her is to run away to someplace where she never has to face the shame of failure and become a wandering adventurer.

She loved adventure stories growing up, and the archetypal action hero in any D&D-based story is a wandering adventurer. The problem being, “real” wandering adventurers tend to be trigger-happy bounty hunters who think they’re above the law and take every available opportunity to abuse it. In short, murder-hobos.

Petryn is not a murder-hobo. Nor is she a swordsman.

10. Draw your protagonist! (Or share a description)

What, you think I can write and draw? No way. Credit: (x)

PLOT POINTS

11. What is the internal conflict?

There’s the whole “the only reason she’s still on her feet after Remora beats her is her conviction that Remora stole the trident and the subsequent burning hope that she can regain her career and exact revenge all at once, when the truth of the matter is that Remora had nothing to do with the theft, the real culprits are trying to undo everything Petryn’s ancestor worked to achieve, and Petryn has to come to terms with the fact that she’ll never get the governorship back, nor can she ever return to that time in her life, and she now has the daunting task of rebuilding herself from the ground up.” But I don’t know how to word that succinctly at the moment.

Then there’s Duty vs Desire: Petryn has a duty to her family name, her ancestor, her city, and... herself? Nah, that sounds fake. Basically she always puts duty—her work obligations—before her own desires—in this case, Galen—and that doesn’t change just because she didn’t get reelected. Before, Galen was her adviser and subordinate, and a workplace relationship of that nature would be inappropriate, and now, with her reputation the lowest it’s ever been (thanks Remora!), she can’t afford the barest hint of a scandal if she’s to have any hope of winning the revote she’s trying to force.

On the other hand, he’s sexy and compassionate, and she’s madly in love with him.

12. What is the external conflict?

There’s the rivalry between Petryn and Remora. They’re both cunning and relentless, but where Petryn holds herself and her people to a high moral standard no exceptions, Remora readily takes advantage of more, shall we say, underhanded tactics. So basically Man vs Foil

There’s also the massive, underground religious cult bent on bringing about a second apocalypse to keep everyone on their toes. That counts as Man vs Nature, right?

13. What is the worst thing that could happen to your protagonist?

Uhhhhhh pretty much someone stealing the closely guarded weapon that her family has kept safe for generations and using its magical powers to open a rift to the Water Plane to unleash the angry genocidal monster that her ancestor personally imprisoned. No biggie.

14. What secret will be revealed that changes the course of the story?

Yeah, Remora’s not the bad guy here. Sorry Petryn, you’ve got bigger fish to fry. You probably should have seen that coming.

15. Do you know how it ends?

It’s kind of a bittersweet ending, because on the one hand, she fails in her personal goal to get her job back. On the other hand, she saves the world! On the other hand, there’s still three more chapters of this cult trying to destroy the world. On the other hand, at least she’s knows they exist now and can’t be blindsided again! On the other hand, they also know she exists now.

On the other hand, she and Galen finally get together!

BITS AND BOBS

16. What is the theme?

Uhhhh something about... legacy, and... you can’t always get what you want.. and........... but if you try sometimes you just might find you get what you need oh yeah.

It’s a lot easier to spot themes once the story’s already written.

17. Where is the story set? (Share a description!)

The Sovereign City of Azmarin, the Floating City, home of Port Serenity. Situated smack dab in the middle of the Marized Ocean, halfway between Sylanta and Haolong. The great cultural salad bowl of Arda’aman.

18. Do you have any images or scenes in your mind already?

It’s near the beginning. Petryn is slumped in a seat in the Rat ‘N a Barrel Pub and Lodgings with a brandy in hand. All around her, sailors are singing off-key shanties and celebrating their brief stint on solid ground, while Petryn quietly drinks herself into oblivion. As she nears the end of her third brandy, Galen slides into the seat next to her.

19. What excited you about this story?

It’s a swashbuckling adventure full of magic and fun worldbuilding!

20. Tell us about your usual writing method!

Outline first, put on a playlist that fits the mood, then start writing.

Tagged by: no one, I just wanted to do it Tagging: Everyone who reads this all the way to the end!

#writeblr #writeblr introduction #writeblr intro #wip introduction #wip intro #the trident's return #it's tentative name at least #til i can come up with something better #about ; petryn

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shadowsong26fic · 5 years

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Coming Attractions!

First Monday of the month (and year!) so it’s time for a Coming Attractions post!

(As a note, this post will discuss/reference certain EPIX/Rise of Skywalker spoilers.)

So, I didn’t get quite as much done this past month as I’d hoped overall--I’d planned to get way more Precipice done and get a bigger/better start on my Big Bang project, as well as more OFLAM, but the presents I was making for family members as well as a Secret Santa fic took up more time than I was expecting them to. Also, I. Uh. I found a Banjo-Kazooie emulator and my inner child became Very Demanding <.< >.>

Anyway! Specific updates:

Precipice:

I went into a fair amount of detail about the game plan for this fic here, and that’s still my goal. Hoping to get the next chapter out tomorrow? Fingers crossed…

SPOILER DISCUSSION

With regard to Rey’s parentage/Palpatine’s canonical son--as of right now, I don’t have any plans to include him in Precipice or any other projects I have going on right now. As with all my plans, this may change at some point--it’s highly unlikely for Precipice, specifically, given some of what I have planned for Lavinia; but I do have some AUs percolating where I could fit him in if I so chose.

The other reason for this is that, apart from Masks and Jedi of Valdemar, I don’t really have solid plotting out far enough to reach the ST? Rey’s background is definitely different in JoV (in that it’s…not actually relevant and probably won’t ever be clarified; but if it is, due to the way Palpatine is set up in that AU, her father can’t exist), and if I ever do get back to Masks!verse, I technically locked my canon as of TFA, but I may restructure or go in a different direction there as well.

But, yeah, apart from that--most of my projects center around the PT or inter-trilogy period, ranging into or shortly past the OT to deal with some of the aftermath/rebuilding, so it’s unlikely to come up. If I do end up writing something apart from the two mentioned above that gets into ST-era stuff, I’ll make the call on a case-by-case basis. Though I reserve the right to change my mind if/when we get supplementary material about Rey’s parents, depending on how much I like them XD

Overall, I guess what I should say is--generally speaking, I tend to work in a blended canon, particularly for post-ROTJ stuff, which means I use a lot of the political/social/general post-war how-things-worked framework from Legends, throwing in characters from canon because I adore them (and some Legends characters as well; at some point, I’ll put up the full JoV timeline which will demonstrate XD). So…yeah, case-by-case basis, like I said. Pick and choose, blended canon.

Mostly laying all this out because--well, if you’ve read my stuff/been following Precipice at all, I’m sure you can guess why. My overall EPIX reaction post is here if you’re curious, but I’m more or less planning to stick to my Star Wars “home,” so to speak, as I’ve already found it in terms of the things I write.

END SPOILER DISCUSSION

our faces like a mirror:

I really, really, really want to finally debut this fic before the Siege of Mandalore arc with S7 of TCW. Not that I think it’ll super Joss what I have planned? But I’d rather get it out there. I have a fair amount of material, especially for the first half, so I’ll hopefully be able to keep up a fairly regular update schedule when I get started? But we shall see.

Other Fanfic Projects:

I thought my Secret Santa turned out pretty well! And my giftee liked it, which is of course the goal XD There were a couple bits that didn’t make it into the final piece (including a point where Luke asked about his mother, but it got tangenty and threw off the rhythm of all three scenes I tried to fit it in, so).

Like I said, I didn’t get a whole lot of other stuff done last month, but for January, I’m hoping to work on my big bang project (I just need to figure out what Obi-Wan’s going to do; I’ve mostly got Anakin and Padme’s threads worked out, though I might shift some things around and I need to figure out a couple details on Anakin’s end. I thiiiiiink how I’m going to work on it is keep the three threads separate (though, because I’m me, I’ll be jumping around and not writing anything in order lol) and then figure out how to braid them together later, but we shall see.) I need to double-check the due date for the draft, but I should be able to get things done if I get my butt in gear.

So, yeah--given SWBB and my Precipice and OFLAM plans described above, I don’t think I’m gonna be working on much else this month, unless something really jumps out at me. Or I decide to fulltext anything I’ve been playing with re: some of the characters mentioned in the Family of Spies AU, which is always a possibility XD

So, to end the post--last January, I set up some Goals/New Years’ Resolutions! So, let’s see how I did and figure out goals for next year…

2019 goals:

1. Finish Precipice and at least one full arc of Protectors/Precipice II …yeah, that didn’t happen. Whoops. 2. Write at least 7.5k of origfic content. Just barely made it with 7,681 words \o/ 3. Start posting OFLAM and/or Untitled ObiAniDala Epic AU …well, I actually did end up using the Untitled Epic AU as my SWBB last year? (Which obviously eventually got a title, The Devoted.) I even did a companion piece! But that may be cheating, since when I set this goal, I was planning to set it aside and do something separate, lol… 4. Revive a semi-hiatused fic (Distaff or Auxiliaries or Phoenix!Verse) …I don’t think I even wrote any content on those three this year, let alone posted/properly revived it, whoops… 5. Update Lux and Farglass Cycle archives, and transfer tumblr archive to DW I didn’t finish the archive updates, but I did get a fair amount done, so yay! Did not transfer my tumblr archive, though. I should do that. Or at least re-download the backup… 6. At least four AU outline installments of some kind. I got two? So…half-credit! 7. Complete BB submission, and keep an eye out for other challenges/exchanges/whatever. As mentioned above, I did complete my submission, and I did a Secret Santa exchange! I possibly could’ve done more/kept a closer eye, but I did at least do something here, so, yay! Go me!

2020 goals (these will be…mostly repeats, lol…):

1. Finish Precipice; complete Arcs 8 and 9 in Protectors/Promises/Precipice II; put out some level of Arc 7.5/Preludes content. 2. Write at least 10k of origfic content. 3. Start posting OFLAM 4. Revive a semi-hiatused fic (i.e., Distaff; Auxiliaries; Phoenix!Verse; one of the BSG fics I keep meaning to go back to if I ever actually sit down and rewatch the series; if I add an actual sequel/companion to Deja Vu… that probably counts…) 5. Finish updating Lux and Farglass Cycle archives; keep them updated through the end of the year as new content gets added. 6. At least four AU outline installments of some kind; preferably including a continuation of Ventress and Her Tiny Time-Travelling Conscience and actually writing up the main part of Let’s Go Steal a Crossover; but any outline will count. 7. Complete BB submission and keep an eye out for other challenges/exchanges. 8. Write at least one holiday fic (Valentine’s Day; Mother’s Day; Father’s Day; Halloween; New Year’s; etc.) and post on the appropriate day.

#coming attractions #shadowsong26fic #miscellania

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pennyfynotes · 6 years

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8.2.18 // 4:30pm // school subjects and AP exams oh my

so i recently (ok not so recently i’m sorry super busy rn) got an ask from an anon about subject specific tips and ap exams. this is the masterpost i told you to look out for ;). there are no ap exams in college, but some of the stuff is still applicable. i did my best to be as comprehensive as possible and dump everything in one place. hope this is helpful! xoxo, m ps. guess where the actual tips are? if you said “under the cut” then you’re right bc i’m predicable af

tips by subject:

languages (i took spanish): 1. flashcards are your friend. i don’t care if they’re digital (would recommend quizlet or studyblue) or paper, but they help immensely with either vocab or things like remembering literature.

2. charts are also your friend. conjugations giving you a hard time? write out a chart of the different tenses and the conjugations for each subject. put down some of the irregulars too.

3. acronyms/pnemonics are also also your friend. a lot of these already exist, you just have to go find them. i’m pretty sure i still remember what “wedding” stands for for the spanish subjunctive.

4. it’s ok to start over. it’s easy to start a sentence based on what you’d say in english. you’re doing fine until *bam* you hit that word/phrase you really need but you have no clue how to say it. whether it’s an oral or written exam, take a few seconds to think about it and, if you can’t figure it out, just back track. restart the sentence and rework it. better to do that than to lose all your time thinking of one word you may or may not know.

5. skirt around things. if you can’t remember how to say fridge but you really need to say it for something, just say “machine that keeps food cold” or something. it might sound silly, but it gets the point across and removes the road block.

6. make a list. no, not a to do list. if there’s phrases you find yourself reaching for all the time, but you can never remember, make a list of them and their translations. it might be because its a phrase/part of a sentence structure you use a lot in your native language or whatever. make that list and drill just those few phrases into your head. it’s helpful

english/language arts: 1. proofread. i guarantee you’ll find a mistake, a sentence that makes no sense, or one that just sounds cringy. thank me later.

2. have a damn thesis. its ok if you just need to write and spit words/ideas out for a while to figure it out. but figure it out.

3. conclusion ~= introduction. for those of you who didn’t get the tilde, it means not. yes, they both tie your points to your thesis but they are not to same. do not just reword the same information in the conclusion. push your ideas just a little further. i usually like the push them a little bit outside the realm of what i talked about in my paper. for example, if i focused on the first 5 chapters of the book in the rest of my paper, i’ll expand the ideas to the rest of the book. or if i’m talking about female characters and focus on just one or two, i’ll use the conclusion to potentially connect it to another.

4. have favorites. pick a few fav transitions, sentence structures, and fancy vocab words. basically build a toolbox. this way you won’t have to think as hard when you want to “spice up” your work.

5. summaries only go so far. once you get to higher level english classes, there will be a lot of analysis of specific imagery, or wording, or dialogue. reading cliff notes is only going to give you the plot and none of this. if you don’t have time to read and you’ve been assigned a pretty standard english novel/play/whatever, take the time to look up some famous quotes or symbols. they’ll probably come up in discussion and this will help you look less unprepared.

6. have on question/comment ready. if your teacher/prof is into discussions and grades on participation, it’s handy to write down one (or a few) things. it’s easy to forget what you were going to say while you follow the discussion and it sucks to get docked points for not saying anything. even if it’s just a thoughtful question, jot it down.

history: 1. lol prob my weakest subject, just go see the apush (ap us history) section bc i don’t have much more for you than that.

science: 1. back to basics. i say it all the time, i’ll say it again. really understand basic concepts. they will come back. i’m serious.

2. pattern recognition. science problems are often times about recognizing patterns. once you identify the type of problem it is, even if you’ve never seen the exact one/something similar before, solving it becomes way easier.

3. make a recipe book. tied to the last one, but once you recognize a type of problem, you need steps to solve it. go through any practice problems you’re given to determine all the “types” of problems. once you’ve categorized them, make yourself a step-by-step guide on how to solve.

4. flashcards. you’ll have to know polyatomic ions or random biology facts. see languages tip #1 for more.

5. note your errors in lab. if you do something wrong, don’t just try to brush it under the table and forget about it. not that it’s a big deal, because its not, so don’t freak out. they’re just great opportunities to note sources of error. i mean obviously dont write in your lab report that you weren’t paying attention and mixed the wrong chemicals, but something like “we may not have waited sufficient time for the product to dry” can explain why you got 800% yield.

6. have a toolkit. kinda like a recipe book, but just a collection of straight facts that come up often. knowing common molecular weights and chemical properties (is ammonia acidic or basic?) will make things go faster. like i said earlier, polyatomic ions are also great.

7. brush up on some simple arithmetic. similar to the tool kit, this will just make things go faster. being able to quickly add things and calculate easy percentages (ex: 30%) will make things like hw and exams go faster. i’m of the opinion it’s always good to know how to add, subtract, multiply, and divide w/o a calculator (on paper, not all in your head)

bonus: math #5 and #7

math: 1. see science #1

2. see science #2

3. see science #3

4. see science #4. see a pattern here? you might wonder why you need to flashcard math, but it’s good for learning equations or the names of certain techniques. if the prof asks you to solve something using X technique and you don’t know what that is, that’s gonna pose a problem. also good for the unit circle (don’t get me started)

5. figure out your speed. this is applicable to most everything, but i find it most relevant for math. is it better for you to speed through the whole exam and then do it all again/check it over 2x? or for you to take it slow so you know you got everything right the first time? personally i use the first approach, but i’m a fast taker and prefer to have time to process between repeating problems instead of staring at it forever once and never looking again.

6. science #7. a lot of teachers will expect you to be able to do this.

7. go over the material a couple times. also applicable to everything. i find it’s easier to remember things when i know that concepts are connected. you might have learned X 3 weeks before Y, but if you go back over, you might realize they’re closely related. this will help you if you’re not sure on a test because you can reason through things using the connections you’ve drawn

tips by ap course (obv look at the subject above bc i will be giving *really specific stuff* here that i’ve gathered from experience. they’re also ordered by when i took them, sorry it’s not super logical but i didn’t want to forget one)

general ap course/exam tips: 1. practice exams. you need to be familiar with what will/will not show up. you don’t always need to simulate and real testing situation, but i’d recommend doing at least 1-2 that way. also *know how many questions they’re are you so can pace yourself!!!!*

2. college board is pretty good about giving topic breakdowns. use those. go through and figure out what topics you’re solid on and which need more work. the above tip is to help decipher what the topics actually mean bc it can be confusing.

3. give the free response a quick flip through. do the ones you’re confident on first.

4. make sure you know the policies/what you can bring. don’t want to forget something. also once our test administrator tried to stop us 10 minutes early, but we were on top of our shit and all gave her a death glare bc we knew when we were supposed to finish.

ap chemistry: 1. polyatomic ions and molecular weights. know them

2. chapter/section reviews (in addition to class notes) and how-to guides. my teacher made us make them and let’s just say your girl did *really* well (and i’m damn proud of that one)

3. do a quick skim of the free response. applicable to most exams but, the year i took it, they’d just remade and re-curved the exam and put *way* too many free response. like no one finished them. if that’s still the case, make sure you do the one’s you’re confident on. also, i did not get to like 3 questions and still got a 5. they may have fixed this idk. (sorry this is redundant but i wanted to give this ap chem exam specific info)

ap environmental science: 1. there is a lot of damn information here. i would use chapter outlines and pick out key terms, policies, and events etc. treat this like a history class.

2. for the exam, use common sense. most of the time, the most environmentally friendly answer is the right one. if you just have a general gist of the course and its topics, but don’t know a lot of details, go with your intuition and you should be fine. i didn’t have a lot of time to study for this one and this method worked for me.

ap calc bc: 1. memorize standard derivatives. power rule, sin and cos, chain rule. that’s important.

2. similarly, memorize standard integrals.

3. don’t forget +c for indefinite integrals. just don’t.

4. similarly, if it’s definite, don’t forget to evaluate at the end! super easy thing to do, but also super easy way to lose points if you forget.

5. if the integral looks complicated, that probably means there’s a “trick” involved. u substitution, integration by parts, trig substitution. something like that.

6. memorize some standard series’, operations, and types (arithmetic, geometric etc)

7. if you’re looking at a word problem, understand what is dependent on your variable and what isn’t (in other words, what’s a constant). for example, if it says the water flows into the barrel at 50 mL/s and flows out at 1/5 times the volume, that translate to F = 50 - (1/5)V. don’t make things more complicated by trying to write everything in terms of V (in this example). also, your equation might just be a constant term or just a variable term doesn’t have to be both.

8. know what your derivative is with respect to/what it really means. aka if your problem is talking about flow and volume, how are they related to each other? flow is the change in volume *with respect to time*. so if i differentiate volume with respect to time, i get flow. if i integrate flow with respect to time, i get volume. this also helps you make sense of word problems.

*disclaimer*: it is been 5 years since i took this class and i have taken quite a few math classes after. i apologize if i introduce anything that is a little irrelevant.

ap spanish language: 1. flashcard. like seriously. there’s gonna be vocab involved.

2. understand what’s asked. for the persuasive email. *be persuasive*

3. toolkit. i mentioned this before but this was probably the most useful for this class. our teacher gave us a bunch of fancier words to use instead of causar (to cause) because that was a word we’d need a lot. the one that still sticks with me 4 years later is fomentar. have a few alternatives for these kinds of super common words, a good greeting and closing for your email, and a set of good transitions. *make sure you know how to use them properly*

4. write stuff down during listening. you can either answer questions during the first listen, then take notes the second to catch stuff you missed or vice versa.

5. it’s ok to backtrack in the speaking. don’t let yourself get stuck and just not say anything. it’ll freak you out for the rest of the exam and will rob you from showing off what you know. also take notes of things you want to mention based off cultural knowledge of the situation related to the dialogue.

6. don’t zone out. with everything going on and all the stress, it’s easy to zone out (esp during the conversation). don’t do it or you’ll have a hard time responding and freak yourself out (again)

7. don’t lose your place in the convo! they give you a sheet that shows you how many times the other “person” will talk. i lost track and said goodbye one segment early. it was bad ok. all these conversation tips are from personal experience.

ap statistics: 1. know the different kinds of tests inside and out. know the differences and the conditions. if you’ve got that, you’re like 75% the way there.

2. be familiar with sample vs population. it’s a bit confusing, but take the time to understand.

3. ok sorry i really don’t remember anything else. this exam really isn’t that difficult (in my opinion), you’ll be ok.

ap physics c: 1. free body diagrams. understand how to draw them *and draw them*. they will carry you through mechanics. draw gravitational force, normal if there’s a surface, and then any other given forces.

2. basic equations. you get an equation sheet, but knowing the equations means you know the concepts and the relations between them. big ones are f=ma and the equations relating position (x), velocity (v), and acceleration (a). also friction f=uN.

3. *normal isn’t always the opposite direction of gravity!!!!* gravity is straight down. normal is perpendicular to the surface.

4. vector components. please don’t just add vectors. break them down into components and then add or you are so fucked.

5. get familiar with triangles. this will help with the whole component thing.

6. kirchoffs rules are so helpful. know them.

7. understand the relations between voltage/potential and current in terms of the properties of circuit elements. that means the equations for resistors, capacitors, and inductors.

8. know how to add in parallel and series. it’s important. also! if the circuit is drawn “weird” a good way to know series vs parallel is that parallel elements share two nodes and that series circuits only share 1.

9. sorry i kinda blocked out E+M bc i didn’t know what i was doing (or so i thought). i still got a 4 tho so that curve is generous.

ap us history: 1. chapter outlines. pretty self explanatory.

2. make a timeline. put important events, sentiments, policies, and presidents. if you can associate these things together into time periods it will be easier. most of the time, any one question (esp long response or whatever they’re called) will only focus on 1 time period.

3. sentiments are important. if you know nothing else, know these bc they will help guide you through questions by reasoning even if you know nothing else.

4. gilder lehrman (or similar us history summaries). these are tailor specifically to apush bc they are organized by period (i think that’s what they were called?). i actually fell asleep listening to these bc i didn’t have time to study. they were mildly helpful, but every little bit helps right?

ap psychology: 1. chapter outlines/flashcards. this course is based heavily on key terms and less so on larger concepts.

2. ok sorry i took this online i remember literally nothing except how annoying my teacher was and that the exam was easy. if you know terminology i think you should do fine.

ap biology: 1. there is a lot. go through all the topics and make sure you’re solid. start with the big picture, then think about narrowing down.

2. know how charts work. things like pedigrees, punnet squares, and evolution trees (that’s def not the right term). some of the exam will just be interpretation of this.

3. i am so sorry i remember nothing else.

ap spanish literature: 1. flashcards. title, author, time period, short summary, key elements (a line, character, symbol). this is *so helpful*

2. think about the works in relation to each other. you might be asked to compare them. even if they ask you to compare something on the reading list with something new, you’ll be familiar with the points you might talk about.

3. know the lit terms. more flashcards. associate them with a particular work if you can/need to.

4. don’t freak on the listening. a lot of the recordings are old and shitty quality. take a deep breath and try your best. know that the rest of the test takers (excepting maybe natives) are experiencing the same thing.

5. use that tool box. see general spanish and ap spanish lang.

this is so freaking long and i think the moral of the story is that i blocked out my senior year ap exams. i hope this was helpful and, if you have more questions, or want more stuff like this, let me know!

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plague-of-insomnia · 5 years

Note

🍋 🍌

Thank you for the ask 💕!!

🍋 Your descriptions are transportive

Wow... 😶☺️🥰 Thank you.

🍌I want to pick your brain about your creative process.

This will be a long post, FYI.

Chaos.

Haha, I’m joking.

Or am I?

Honestly, I’ve tried a lot of different things over the years, including outlining, and it never works for me bc my characters control the story. I really am just their interpreter, putting their lives and words onto virtual paper.

I’m a “character first” kind of writer (as opposed to a “plot first”), and that means I could probably tell you what any of the main cast of my stories ate for breakfast on the morning of their 8th birthday, but I couldn’t tell you what happens in the end, or sometimes even in the next chapter, bc I don’t know until I “get there.”

I’ve done my best to break my process down into 8 steps.

Step 1: The Idea

When I first get an idea, it usually comes to me in terms of a really vivid scene, like the chapter in Where Demons Hide called “Spark of Madness.” Usually that scene ends up in the beginning of the story but not normally the first chapter. Sometimes it’ll give me some story/plot to help me begin to flesh out the idea more, like in that example, where the main antagonist/conflict is introduced, though normally I have to work at it a bit more.

Step 2: Flesh Things Out

This is where I brainstorm, usually thinking about the main characters, who they are and what their flaws might be and what they might want to help me “find” the story. Sometimes I’ll make a character sheet (normally I don’t if I’m working alone bc I don’t have to). I do normally make a file for notes where I’ll jot down possible ideas about the characters and where the story might go.

I’ll be perfectly honest and say while this process does get me jump started, most of the notes I jot down I don’t end up using bc as the characters and story formulates, they both tend to change from my original ideas.

Step 3: Research

This can often be tied in with #2 and it’s not as if it just stops here. But as I often write about disabilities, mental and chronic illness, I like to make sure I can get as much info about the disease/condition I want to represent as possible so that I can:

represent it appropriately and accurately and

so I can find story/character details along the way.

For example, in my novel UnConventional, I was able to talk with a friend who is not only an orthotic user (and has been for years) but is an engineer of sorts so he understands very well *how* they work. By talking with him about various orthotics and his own struggles with them, I was able to find new plot and character details that help make the story more vivid and real and also allowed me to drive it in directions I may not have been able to otherwise.

Step 4: Write, Write, Write.

Two things you need to know about my writing process:

I usually do better when I write out of order.

I need to visualize the scene in my head to write it effectively. My “writers block” comes from not being able to see things in my head

My method isn’t the most efficient, but it’s how my brain works, and I’ve learned to go with it rather than fight it.

I brainstorm with myself (or a friend or my husband if possible) when necessary, or sometimes I’ll just close my eyes in a quiet place to allow myself to “see” the next series of scenes. Before I can forget the vivid movie I saw in my head, I do what I call a “scene sketch.”

I call it a “sketch,” bc just like a sketch is usually the foundation for a piece of art, mine are the basic structure for a completed scene. I do this also if I have a pretty solid idea but don’t have the time to write or I’m too tired or something like that, bc sketches allow me to simply sit down and flesh them out to create a completed scene.

They’re kind of like what an outline might be for other writers but less organized. Sketches are like a little treatment of a scene, including the basic setting, an idea of POV, and even dialog and body language, but jotted down really quickly without quotes or dialog tags. Sometimes there’ll be things like “maybe this happens” bc once I actually write the scene I’ll know if that idea feels right or not.

Here’s an example from a rejected chapter of WDH (I ended up going in a slightly different direction):

Seb answers when room service knocks. Bard is hovering, maybe bc he heard Seb’s scream. He sees the bad bite on Seb’s bare chest, sees he’s trembling and drowning more than ever, his eyes almost pleading for rescue. But when Bard asks if he’s OK he smiles and says yes, sir. Takes the food from the room service person and says he’s been ordered to wait on the guests personally. Shuts the door in Bard’s face.

Sometimes these sketches can be very detailed, other times it’s more of a general, quick jot of what happens or the scene I want to set. It depends on my brain and the scene.

I like to set goals based on scenes (or sometimes chapters), and do my best to complete a scene in its entirety if possible before I stop. If I can’t bc of time, then I’ll write a really brief sketch so I know what I need to do when I pick back up again so I won’t forget.

I’ve been writing and editing long enough that depending on the project I’m able to self-edit as I write. That doesn’t mean I don’t revise or edit later, but it saves some time overall as I am more aware of certain things than I used to be.

Because I write out of order, my process often entails being a puzzle master and piecing things together. Especially for something like Where Demons Hide, which has a lot of flashbacks, since I write those separately from the main story, I then have to figure out where they “belong.” I’d say 98% of the time for this fic I have already written the flashbacks before the chapter(s) they end up in.

My original serial fiction I write in a similar fashion, where I often will write scenes out of order and then assemble them into chapters later. So sometimes I’ll make a kind of “outline” of plot points that I need to cover. It’s not so much a fixed thing as a memory aid and place for me to put notes of ideas that might come to me that aren’t completely fleshed out.

Step 5: Rest

Once I’ve completed a chapter, I try to let it “rest” for at least a few days, if not longer. Especially if it was a long chapter or something that was difficult to write and took me awhile so I’ve been working on it for days or even weeks at a time.

I do this for three reasons:

“In process” brain lies often and says a scene/chapter sucks and I should just burn my computer/phone and take up accounting instead, and that the pacing is awful and it’s boring and lots of similar untruths.

Especially if the chapter took me a long time to finish because it’s lengthy or complicated or has difficult subject matter or whatever, it means there’s a good chance I’ve been working on it for days or even weeks and I’m SICK TO DEATH of it and never want to see it again, so taking a break from it is a welcome relief. It’s like taking a vacation after you’ve been working overtime for months. Sometimes I’ll do writing-adjacent things during this time, like reading, organizing/typing my notes, jotting down things I need to work on, reading/watching stuff that will energize and inspire me. Other times I work on another project or other scenes/chapters in the same project. Sometimes I’ll just take a break if I’m feeling burnt out or stressed.

I can come back to the project with fresh eyes, so that I can read it and see what things are actually good (suck it, in-process brain) or what things may still need work in a way I couldn’t do so soon after finishing.

Step 6: Revise

I revise in different ways depending on how much I feel something needs fixing. The first revision is my chance to see how the puzzle pieces knit together, work on scenes that I noticed aren’t pulling their weight or that need to be fleshed out. Sometimes this means I will completely, totally rewrite—and by that I mean “retype.” I open a fresh document, and referencing the original, start over. This allows me to streamline and better hone my language and ensure each scene is working hard.

This is something I do if I feel like a scene isn’t working as-is or I have a shit-ton of notes and comments on the first draft and it’s so chaotic I feel like I can’t focus anymore. This is especially helpful for dialog.

Other times the revisions are less drastic. Sometimes I means moving a scene around or deleting one that isn’t working. Sometimes it means finding all the times I’ve repeated the same word and fixing that, or fixing places where I’ve used the same sentence type too often.

Revision can be a very long process, depending on the quality of the first draft and what my goal is. If it’s just fan fic I’m doing for fun, then I don’t obsess too much: usually 1-2 read throughs and adjustments are OK. If it’s something I’m going to submit for publication, then that’s a different story bc the quality of the edit of your submitted draft makes a good impression (or a bad one).

Step 7: Beta Reader

If I have one, which I don’t always, then this is where I’ll send it to them. Usually what I want in a beta reader isn’t stuff like proof or copy editing, but rather “big picture” stuff. I want them to tell me: “this scene isn’t working” or “this feels contrived” or “I don’t like the main character.”

It can be frustrating and disheartening to get feedback that means I have to go back and do some major revising, but that’s why they’re there, bc often it’s either things I couldn’t see bc I’m too close to the story, or stuff I was in denial about (lol). Listening to my betas always leads to a better draft.

Step 8: Proofreading/Copyediting

The last step. I’ve done this professionally so I’m usually pretty good at finding typos and inconsistencies myself, but some people will hire someone like me to do that work bc they don’t have the skill or the time. Even if it’s “just for fun,” proofing is important bc it affects readability, and it’s embarrassing to me if I post something with glaring proof errors 😶.

~~~Anyway, that is roughly how my brain works. I don’t know if this is what you were expecting or wanting, but here it is!

#my answers #my writing process #positive feedback #ask chie

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corishadowfang · 5 years

Text

11/11/11 Tag

Tagged by @siarven--thanks for the tag!

Rules: Answer the eleven questions, make eleven of your own, and tag eleven people.

1. What is your favorite genre to write?

Fantasy in general! I love the worldbuilding involved, and the fantastical elements mean that there are a lot of things I can do that I probably couldn’t in other types of fiction.

2. Who is your favorite OC and why?

Pyromon! He’s been around since I was 10, and honestly has a pretty special place in my heart. In a weird way, he kind of helped me learn more about character development and story telling? Mostly because he grew very organically with me.

3. Who is your least favorite OC and why?

Ah...hm. That’s actually very tough. I’m not sure I really have one? Maybe if I dig into my older works--but even then, it’s more ‘disappointed with how I handled them’ rather than ‘I don’t like them.’ Of those, I’d have to say Riun from Before the Beginning is the top of my list. I really didn’t know how to write kid characters then, and he ended up acting much younger than he should’ve, and didn’t actually add a lot to the story.

4. Do you ever find yourself self-inserting in your writing?

I MEAN--I have a self-insert character in After Eden, so that’s a solid ‘yes.’ Other than that, though, not really? Sometimes aspects of myself are incorporated into different characters, but they don’t always handle things the same way I would, so I don’t know if that really counts.

5. Are you hoping to publish your work? If so, will you submit your work or self-publish?

I would like to get On my Heart published someday! I am currently planning on submitting it somewhere, but that may change with more research.

6. What is your favorite book and why?

Obligatory Bible mention here.

...Okay, so not entirely joking? I really do think the Bible is an awesome piece of literature as well as a religious text, and keep considering trying to study it as a literary piece. But I don’t because I get busy.

As far as just for fun, that’s really quite hard? I think I’d have to go with The Last Unicorn, though. I absolutely love the characters and writing style--it legitimately has this kind of ‘magical’ feel to it and manages to perfectly capture fairytale storytelling while also deconstructing it. Would definitely recommend reading if you’re a fantasy fan!

7. So you set goals for yourself in your writing? If so what’s your current goal?

If really extended long-term goals count, then yes. For On my Heart, the current goal is still to try and have it ready for betas by the end of the year. ...If you’re talking about short-term goals, then not really.

8. Do you like to handwrite your drafts or type them up?

Type, definitely. Aside from the fact that my handwriting’s pretty sloppy, I can’t handwrite nearly as fast as I can type, which is frustrating when I’m trying to keep up with my thoughts.

9. What is the hardest thing about being a writer?

FINDING THE TIME AND MOTIVATION TO ACTUALLY WRITE. Like--I work as a copywriter, so I’m literally writing all day, and then, when I get home, I have to find the motivation to write more. Sometimes it’s pretty easy--I’m excited to get to a certain part, or I just haven’t written much today, or I hear something and get inspired--but other times it’s like pulling teeth because I’m tired or burnt out.

10. Do you plan out your projects or just start writing?

Kind of both? Generally speaking, I like to have a good idea of the world, the characters, and at least the basic plot before I start. I also prefer to have what I’m going to call ‘checkpoints’--scenes that I’m super excited to write and that I can work towards. In the past, I never really fleshed out the stuff that happened between checkpoints before I started writing, but I’ve leaned towards doing so more recently? For On my Heart, I’m kind of doing this weird ‘scribble down a general idea of what’s going to happen for the next couple chapters, write them out and see how those ideas change, scribble some more ideas,’ so basically I’m planning as I go. After Eden is getting much heavier outlining just because I’m not really going to have time to do a lot of drafts for it, and I want to make sure it’s good.

11. Do you like to stick to one project or have multiple at once?

Both, kind of. Generally speaking, I like to only be writing one project at a time. Otherwise I either a) end up neglecting one or multiple WIPs for another, or b) get really burnt out on both. But I usually have ideas for another WIP that I’ll mess around with when I feel like I can’t entirely focus on my main project. On my Heart and After Eden are good examples of this; On my Heart is my main WIP, and is currently in the redrafting process, while After Eden is something I go back to to do worldbuilding and work out plot ideas to help recharge (but still do something writing-related) when I feel like I don’t have the energy to work on On my Heart.

Aha, since I just did one of these recently, I don’t have a lot of ideas for questions. So if you’re interested, then I’ll say just reuse the questions above!

I’ll tag @lady-redshield-writes, @fantasy-penman, @vhum, @pens-swords-stuff, @telvivere, @screamingatanemptyroom, @somuchtowrite, @focusdumbass, @diwrites, @stephrawlingwrites, and @writings-of-a-narwhal, if you guys are interested in doing this!

#tag game #11/11/11 tag game #on my heart #after eden

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silviasutton1989 · 6 years

Text

T.T.K. Chapter 17 “Stormholt”

A/N: Hey guys so first I’m not feeling that great today. I have had a headache all day and nothing has even lessened it in the slightest. But on another note I have don’t a new outline for this story and I am seeing the end to this tunnel in 10 to 12 more chapters (maybe...) I honestly did not think it was going to take me this long but I promise I will stick to my outline this time (will you all stick with me till the end??) One more thing this chapter explain who Olivia is and her mother’s motives for her actions. Now if I have some readers who were devoted TC&TF readers please don’t get mad at me if my history on Kenna isn’t canon (I really tried my best. As always I love you all and am so thankful for each comment like and reblog.

Word Count: 2200

Rating: Teen

Catch up: Chapter 1 1.2 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 9.2 9.25 10 11 12.1 12.2 13 14 15 16

Summary: Olivia learns about her history, Riley comes to a realization.

“Excuse me? What did you say?” Riley’s attention went directly to the reporter. She tried to keep a calm smile on her face, but as the cameras flashed

“Yes ma’am. We received a statement yesterday. Mister Drake announced a postponement of your nuptials due to unforeseen delays. Do you care to comment on that?”

Riley was never one to be afraid. She blindly left with men she had never known to go to a country she had never heard of on a whim. She had had a gun pointed at her face; heard the gun shot go off and her only thought was if everyone else was ok. The riots were frightful but if there was one thing Riley could handle it was fear. But hearing those words: “Your wedding had been postponed” petrified her.

She stood in front of the crowd a breakfast plate in her hand, her mouth unable to close.

“Duchess Riley…do you care to comment.”

“I…I…”

“Today we are here to serve these citizens. The duchess will make a full statement when she is able. “ Liam gives her a reassuring look “I do have an announcement that I would like to personally tell the protestors.” Liam walks away from the table clearing his throat before blaring his voice so that the crowd could hear.

“Everyone, if I may have your attention. I have heard your troubles and I must say that as your king I have failed you. If even one of my people are suffering then my reign is futile. But…I’m going to make this right. When we return to the palace there will be an auction. I will be selling my own valuables to support those in Portovia whose homes and jobs were lost in the constant floods. And I will give it all to you…if it takes everything I own. I was born to serve my country and until I have nothing else to give I will give it to you all.”

The crowd cheers. A woman, with tears flowing down her check pulls him into a hug thanking him. An older man, who looked somewhat familiar came up to him, his face filled with shame, he takes his king’s hands bowing his head.

“Thank you your highness…I’m so sorry. I just…we needed help here.”

Liam assures him there’s no need to apologize but as the man walks away he feels the chain in his hand. He opens it to see the pearl necklace he had given to Riley.

“This is going to work.” Liam mutters proudly looking around to find Riley but she was rushing through the door of the estate.

“Take a deep breath. In…..Out”

Olivia followed dutifully, not because she believed in this inward spiritual cleansing crap but that during her stay with her aunt she learned that obedience was key to getting any answers from Lucretia. And since Olivia was as stubborn as a mule, she spent most of her 2 weeks there defying her aunt at every turn, meaning she knew no more about her mother than when she got there.

“Now repeat after me: I change my thoughts, I change my world”

“I change my thoughts, I change my world.”

“I want you to believe it. Say it again.”

With a humph Olivia repeats “I change my thoughts, I change my world”

“Good girl…now do you believe it?”

“Sure why not…” Olivia rolls her eyes. She sees Lucretia’s frustrated sigh and quickly straightens her spine. “I believe I can change my world. I hold that power, that it isn’t about who doesn’t love me, but if I love myself. If I change my perception I can change my whole world….I got it. Now as lovely as slumming it with you and these hippie hobos for 2 weeks have been I would like to be done with this….please just tell me. What do I not know about my mother?”

Lucretia rubs her lips studying her niece. “Ok Olivia. But first there’s something I have been meaning to tell you. Things haven’t been going so great for Liam since you left….There has been… riots.”

Olivia let out a breath but still keeps her posture strong. “any attacks?”

“No he’s fine but the people are protesting against him, and if you ask me it’s pretty well needed. I mean, who does a unity tour after an assassination attempt? Almost half his country was under water last year and he��s going through the towns inviting people to a wedding!” Lucretia laughs but still watches Olivia very carefully. “So….are you going to go save him?”

“No. He is king, he can handle this. My thoughts are on my own world, not his.”

“Your world could be his…” She gives her niece a hard look.

“What does that even mean?”

“Olivia, do you know who Kenna Rhys was?”

“Uh yeah I took Cordonian History like every other grade schooler.”

“Kenna was the Queen to merge all 5 kingdoms. But have you ever wondered why she and any other sovergn had control of all the other kingdoms… but Lythikos?”

Olivia stirs in her seat and shakes her head.

“There’s been some debate over who Kenna married. Many believed she married Dominic Hunter, a Stormont solider, and one of her oldest friends. And if history is true, after the death of Kenna and Dominic’s only child, there was no direct heir. Kenna’s relatives had died so the throne went to Dominic’s family, who were nobles of Fydoria. If that is true then Liam is the true heir to the throne because he is Dominic’s direct descendant…”

“Uh-huh” Olivia nods trying to follow along.

“But your mother believed that Kenna did not marry Dominic, she married Diavolos Nevarkis. And that would mean…” Lucritia waits for her niece to answer.

“That would mean that I am the heir to the throne?” Her brows furrow as she sees the smile spread across her aunt’s face. “But wait, that doesn’t make any since. If she married Diavolos we would have had the throne centuries ago.”

“The only records we have of Kenna and her marriage was at least 100 years after her death. Kenna only had one child. When he died Stormholt was going through one of its biggest wars. Kingdoms all around knew that the country had lost their only surviving monarch decided to take it over. The Nevarkis’ and Dominic’s family from Fydoria and many other leaders form the 5 kingdoms were working together to keep the country intact. While our ancestors were in the battlefield fighting for our country, Constantine’s ancestors stayed at the capitol building alliances, gaining more territory, they even changed the name from Stormholt to Cordonia. The war lasted for decades and when our ancestors came back from war to rule the land they had risked their lives for, the Hunters who by then went by the name Rhys’ had enough support from the other five kingdoms to send us back to Lythikos. They changed the whole story claiming that Diavolos was simply one of Kanna’s many consorts and all it took was power and time before that lie to become Cordonia’s history.”

Olivia blankly stares at her aunt giving her brow a troubled rub. “Ok Aunt Lucy you made me meditate for 2 weeks so that you could tell me that a million years ago my thousands of great uncle married the queen of Cordonia, so by proxy it belongs to me.” She shakes her head and laughs. “This happened centuries ago, by now it doesn’t matter who she married Liam has the throne. What am I supposed to do with this? Take over the country? Even with proof, if the country had to choose me over him, I’m sure it wouldn’t be too hard of a choice.”

“Stop selling yourself short Olivia. I may have been living in No man’s Land but the press has been praising you for weeks, the people are rioting against Liam. You can take your throne and be the queen your mother died for you to be!”

“How am I supposed to do that? Even if this whole story is actually true, I have no proof, I have no support. I have no one!”

“Your mother had proof. I don’t know what it was or where it is now. But I know a few people who may be able to help you.”

Lucretia took a step towards Olivia whose bottom lip was lodged between her teeth, her thoughts clearly spinning in her head. She spoke carefully, “Persephone was one woman, who created her own army, and Kenna was one woman who claimed her country back. Your mother didn’t just wake up and decided she wanted to be queen she found out she truly was one and refused to be told anything different. I think that once you realize it too, once you realize that there’s a crown on your head even though you can’t see it you will change your world just like she tried to.”

“My mom had an army?” she couldn’t hide the prideful smile appearing on her face.

“Yes she did...and you know who they are."

There was a not in Hana’s stomach that wouldn’t go away. She went to the palace to give Riley peace of mind, to bring Drake back to her friend. But yesterday did not go as plan, when Drake left the ball room he never came back.

She saw Riley bounding down the hallway and gave her best smile. “Hey Riley I’m back from….” Riley walks right past her. “Riley are you ok?”

Her friend turns the corner and doesn’t give an answer. Not too far behind her Maxwell and Liam are following her trail.

“He Hana Banana! Have you seen Riley?”

“Yeah she just walked right past me. Is she ok?”

“No Drake suspended the wedding.” Liam responds through clenched teeth.

“He did what!” The trio reaches Riley’s door slowly opening it unsure of what they would find. There running back and forth through her room was their friend, throwing every bit of clothing she could get her hand on into her luggage.

“I’m leaving.” She said plainly, marching to her closet, flinging the clothes with the hangers still attached onto her bed. “He doesn’t want to marry me. Fine I’m going home.”

“Riley he didn’t say the wedding was off just that it is postponed. Maybe the dates for the caterers are conflicting. You should talk to him before jumping to…” Liam takes a step towards her but she pushes past him to her suitcase stuffing more clothes into it.

“He won’t talk to me! I have called and texted him every night. He doesn’t respond. I don’t get it I did what he wanted me to do. I too our time apart seriously and then out of the blue he just does something like this….What did I do so bad?” She stops for a moment looking at her friends hoping they would give her an answer.

Hana speaks with clenched eyes “Riley. It’s my fault. I went to go see him yesterday and…well you and Liam were getting close and I got scared. I told him to come back with me…to come and get you before you two did something you would regret later. I was trying to help. I’m sorry I didn’t think he would do this I’m so sorry.”

Before Riley could say anything Hana began to sob, Maxwell quickly taking her into his arms to console her.

“It’s not your fault, it’s mine. I didn’t appreciate Drake. I knew I loved him more than Liam months ago, I didn’t need this break to figure that out and I should have told him that instead of playing along.” She looks at her discarded clothes splayed over her bed. One of Drake’s white T’s lays in front of her, it was one of the only things he left behind and she never wore it, too afraid his scent would fade away.

“I’m going to get him back.”

254 candles.

Riley beamed as she basked in her work. A candle for each day she had known Drake. She was convinced this would work, as she lit the very last one.

She spent her last week on tour getting ready for tonight. She found the perfect lingerie - a black lace holster set (Drake had always loved her in black). She had her nails done waxed and even straightened her hair. Tonight needed to be a fantasy he needed to remember why he loved her.

She could hear the sound of heavy footsteps approaching the door and her nerves began to heighten.

Is the bath water hot enough?

Do I have enough condoms?

She scurried around the room making sure everything was in its place, before stopping at a mirror.

Is this enough? Am I really enough?

She didn't have time to answer as the door swings open, Drakes large body taking u the space of the door frame. She quickly lifts her chest and splays her best sultry smile.

His eyes widen,"Surprise! I came back early.....Did you miss me?"

Her smile was weakening as she waited for him to answer. But he didn't speak, only scanning her body and all the candles lit around them. She waited for a smile, a smirk, just the tiniest hint that he was happy to see her. But there wasn't any.

Tag List: If you want to be on the tag list permanently (this one is randomly selected with some permanent in as well) let me know. If you DO NOT want to be tagged ever just send me a message I will not be upset.

@walkerismychoice@darley1101@speedyoperarascalparty@mfackenthal @jadedpixiescribbles@boneandfur @andy-loves-corgis @blackcatkita@missevabean@snyggflicka@stopforamoment @agent-bossypants@endlessly-searching-for-you @indiacater@tmarie82 @umccall71@hopefulmoonobject @choices97 @blubutterflyy @fluffy-marshmallow-heart @itsmychoicebih @kinkykingliam

@liam-rhys @blznbaby @viktoriapetit@alicars@mrsdrakewalkerblog@walkerisbae@butindeed@greyeyedsmile14@gingerjane15@barbaravalentino@mymandrake @client327@choicesbyjade@drakesfianceee @caroolhr@drakelover78@drakewalkerrosenberg@youwontlikewherewewillgo @grumpycommoner @drakewalkerfics

#the royal romance #chapter 17 #choices fanfiction #choices drake #trr fanfic #choices trr #trr liam #trr olivia

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cookiecutterwrites · 6 years

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11 Writer Tag

Thank you for tagging, @dimawriting! wowee it’s been ages since i did a tag game. also, since new questions weren’t assigned, i’ll just answer your questions and pass them on.

1. Do you prefer writing things chronologically or just whatever you want in that moment?

I jot down new ideas and save them for later but I’m writing out my current wip chronologically. I’ve jumped forward in time in a few spots and just left ‘COME BACK AND FIX THIS’ smack in the middle of the doc.

2. Favorite font and why?

Arial, just because its so familiar and non controversial.

3. How long do you usually make your chapters?

Around 16-20k? But these are tentative chapters, I plan to break them up more in the second draft, I’ll probably end up with something like 3-5k chapters.

4. Does outside noise distract you from writing?

Not usually. Unless it is the TEA. Then I’m better off shutting my laptop off and just eavesdropping.

5. Can you explain an abandoned WIP?

A superhero trilogy, 4 POVs per book, 12 POVs in all. Each book would be disconnected, the characters would never meet each other, and it’d basically be the rise, fall, and aftermath of the superhero phenomena. I only titled the first two: A Take-Over-the-World-Type of Attitude and We’re All Doomed. Some of the more interesting powers included the ability to switch 1 (one) object between animate/inanimate (used by a young girl on a plain old table to con poor unsuspecting old ladies into thinking it was a tipping table) and the ability to alter chemical pathways in people’s brains (used by a villain-protagonist to secure the loyalty of the world’s most destructive telekinetic in her mission to take over the world as proof of concept). Probably the most interesting theme was whether the superhero/celebrity culture was putting youth in danger, whether urging young people to ‘be the hero’ was worth the risk.

6. Quality or quantity in your first draft?

Quantity, I think. But now it’s way too long. My wip is YA Fantasy, it has no business being as long as it is. Heck, I might have to split it into 2 books.

7. Who is your favorite antagonist in your writing?

Cobalt in my outlining-stage wip Cincinnati is a Magical Girl is a pretty shitty guy. But he does just enough to keep Natty on his side, and that’s all he needs. He knows her better than she knows herself and plays her like a damn fiddle.

8. What is your least favorite setting you’ve ever had the pleasure of describing

Unless there’s something special about them, classrooms in general are like no?? School gyms in particular are like a double no.

9. When do you write?

When I’m not panicking about something else I have due lol. And weirdly enough, in a lot of moving vehicles. Like it’s calming, I’m all, ‘Heck I have nothing else to do, might as well’.

10. Where does your main WIP take place?

The magical, mystical, vaguely-medieval themed coastal kingdom of Derhise. I’m set to do a load of worldbuilding though, because a) we have enough vaguely medieval fantasy settings to last us several millennia, I gotta differentiate mine and b) I don’t actually know shit about medieval history.

11. Why do you think your current WIP is important?

It takes YA Fantasy tropes and not only flips them on their heads but violently tears them down and builds them up again. It’s not enough for a parody to poke fun of what’s out there, it also has to tell a solid story on its own two feet and deconstruct its genre.

Tagging @thatfizzyyyy @izzuniiwrites @rnevermore @worldwidewrecker and @kimisawriter and anyone else who wants to do it!

#tag game #writer tag game #11 writer tag #wip #cookie's stuff

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mischiefiswritten · 6 years

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Meet the Writer Tag!

I was tagged by @iamidentical - thank you! This is such a fun one!

1. Do you usually come up with your character or your plot first?

Characters, for sure! Creating characters comes naturally to me, but plotting is agony (at least it is if you want an actual outline rather than just disconnected plot points). I usually have a lot of homeless OCs in my head that I would absolutely adore to write for, but they don't have stories yet!

2. Do you write longhand or on the computer?

Both. Looking back, I used to do all my drafting longhand and then my first revision was done as I typed it up. Nowadays I typically do my planning/note taking on paper and draft on my computer, mostly because I can actually type quickly enough to keep up with my thoughts and handwriting is slower. I also like to take my laptop on road trips so I can draft in the car! I hope when I begin redrafting my current WIP that I'll be able to do more drafting longhand.

3. Was there a book that inspired you to write or that had an effect on your writing?

This is a great question, but I'm not sure I can put my finger on a specific influence. It's hard for me to compare writing styles, particularly when it comes to my own, so I'm not sure if I "take after" any of my favorite authors. I read The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings in elementary school, and Tolkien is hands down my favorite storyteller of all time. I think he probably inspired me a lot (and continues to do so, honestly), and frankly I left my heart in Middle-Earth.

4. How do you come up with your characters' names?

Through a long, unskilled process mostly. Essentially once I've come up with the basis for a character, I just start trying names on them until I find one that fits! I may make up the name entirely, tweak existing names, or search lists of culturally appropriate names depending on what I need it for. Usually the name sticks, but I'm loosening up on that these days. In my current WIP, Rim became Rys, and Darian became Aldrich!

5. What can you not write without?

Huh. This is actually a great question, but I can't think of an answer! I'm pretty versatile when it comes to writing tools or environments, but I'll tell you what I can't write with - someone reading over my shoulder.

6. Is there a place where you do your best writing/are the most productive? Where is it?

I'm a total homebody, so my house is an easy place for me to relax, let go, and immerse myself in my writing. One of my grandmothers has a sun room with a beautiful view that I also love to sit in and write.

7. How do you think your own experiences affect your writing, if they do at all?

I haven't had nearly the difficulties in life that happen in my stories (thank the Lord), so it's hard to say what actual life events have influenced me. I've always been encouraged to write, though, and to love stories deeply, and that's done a lot to foster my writing over the years.

8. What do you usually write? For example, poetry, novels, etc.

Novel-length fiction (in theory). I've yet to complete a full draft of anything, but I'm not poetically inclined and can't seem to manage any kind of short prose!

9. What is the hardest part of writing for you?

The hardest part of the craft itself is definitely plotting. I adore worldbuilding and character development because that's just me getting to explore another fictional world, crawling inside and living there. But the fact of the matter is that you have to have things happening in a solid sequence, and connecting the dots is a challenge for sure.

10. What do you do to get your creative juices flowing?

Surround myself with creative content! Whether that's seeing the work of other writers on Tumblr, reading a book, watching a film/series, or playing an rpg. Experiencing stories other people have written makes me want to tell my own!

Goodness I was longwinded...

Next questions:

1. From what point of view do you like to write? Why?

2. Which of your OCs would you most want to know in real life?

3. Which of your OCs would you least want to know in real life?

4. Do you find it easier/more satisfying to create your own setting or use one from the real world?

5. What tools do you use to write? Paper, computer, applications?

6. How often do you share your writing in real life/face-to-face? With whom?

7. Would you rather see your WIP adapted for cinema, TV, stage, or a videogame?

8. Do you draft your stories sequentially or in the order that scenes/chapters come to you?

9. What's a genre/premise/story element that you love but don't think you'll ever write?

10. Do you like to find face claims/casts for your OCs or do you prefer that their appearance is only in your imagination?

I'm going to tag @katekyo-bitch-reborn @maliyagi @mangowriter @chapteronesucks and @allisonaldridge if you haven't done this yet or want to do it again! (To play, answer the questions, write 10 new questions, and tag someone!)

#meet the writer tag #tag game for writers #writeblr community #writing #writers on tumblr #mischiefiswritten #Q&A

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peppermint-chocolate-cherries · 2 years

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19, 21 and 28?

19 - Share a snippet from a WIP without giving any context for it.

"My intention last night was to persuade you to change your political position. We need you to side with Francis and declare war on Spades."

"You already know that I am staying neutral on the matter. It’s harder than you think to defy Lilli, especially when Matthew is involved."

"Unfortunately for our sweet Lilli, that’s the price to be paid. Having romantic relationships with a Royal from another Suit has always been a recipe for disaster. The two of them have known all along that this was a risk, and now Lilli must set that aside for the benefit of Diamonds."

"You want me to defy my sister’s wishes and emotional well-being, for the sake of Diamonds joining your side of a war. I still fail to see how our actions last night were supposed to aid you in persuading me to change my mind."

"Last night was just a taste of what could happen. If you ever want that to happen again, you will let Francis declare war on Spades."

"It was a seduction. You’re using sex to persuade me."

"Now you see the full picture."

21 - Can you accurately predict how long your fics are going to be? If you can, what’s your secret?

I have it pretty good. For one, I outline all my story's chapters before I really get into writing, so I know how many chapters there will be and what will happen in each chapter. Second, I personally want to get at least 1,500 words to a chapter, ideally averaging 2,000, in order to set up the chapter, address the main plot twist, and find a solid closing (or cliffhanger...)

28 - Any writing advice that works for you and you feel like sharing?

Ooh, this is definitely a tougher question. I suppose the way I outline and organize my stories might be useful advice to give, for someone more logistically detailed who can't just write on a whim form start to finish. Read past the cut for my outlining method!

I do everything in Google Drive, specifically Docs with a couple uses for trackers in Sheets. Having everything digital and on the cloud makes it easier to share across devices, and I can even be naughty at work share the Doc links to the Trello board that my personal and work emails share.

Outline the new story in a single Doc. Plan out the key events, add character descriptions and timelines as needed, plug in sections for filler chapters. Once a solid roadmap is figured out, add in chapter numbers and part numbers where it feels right.

Create a subfolder in Drive, then create a Doc for each Part of the story. I like having only 5-6 chapters per Part, because that can get above 10,000 words (re my average word count) per Doc and that's a lot of pages to scroll through once you start writing. Copy-paste the chapter outlines to the applicable Part Docs. This is where you can write out your drafts!

A newer thing that worked great for The English Quixote was to create a writing progress tracker in Sheets. I was able to track my updated chapter word counts, chapter drafting status, and plan out the publishing date and key deadlines for drafting and editing.

I use conditional formatting to highlight the different statuses for the chapters: Outlined, Started Drafting, Half Drafted, Mostly Drafted, Fully Drafted, Ready to Publish, Published. I'd have the posting schedule be once or twice a week on key days of the week, Saturdays are nice.

Chapters must be "Fully Drafted" three weeks before they are scheduled to be published, allowing time for editing. The "Half Drafted" deadline is the month-end before the "Fully Drafted" deadline. I had twelve chapters fully drafted when I published Chapter 1 of The English Quixote, that was a great buffer.

This all works quite well for me, as I usually know from the plot bunny stage what the key plot twists and drama are later in the story, but I have to figure out how to set up the story and get there in the first place. My progress this past week has been on Parts 3 + 4 of Only Aces Remain, while I have yet to have any writable ideas on dialogue or action for Part 1. Parts 6-9 are already playing as recurring movie scenes in my head and just need to translate into key strokes, while the epilogue will definitely be last.

#answered ask #only aces remain #wip snippet #writing method

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autoirishlitdiscourses · 3 years

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Discourse of Saturday, 17 April 2021

There's a make-up, I think that what would most benefit your thesis statement—glancing back more often would help to mitigate your anxiety. I liked your paper has at least some background on Irish nationalism. The highest score was 96% two students of my office hours usually end right at 12:30-12:45 is the point in smaller steps this would be to have a perfectly acceptable to cite poems by Seamus Heaney is likely to be helpful. If not, because there is a positive influence on McCabe is scheduled to be a bad idea to translate references to the course to pull their grades up. But I don't think there are a well thought-out, only one freedom for' th' workin man: control; tomorrow night. Failure to turn it into an A-paper demonstrates a solid delivery. Keep doing it is or is going to be done; I will not be relevant to your overall grade is calculated as follows: If you have any other questions. Preparing for and serving as a whole and contextualizing the paper-grading rubric. If you do all three of the play. DON'T FORGET TO BRING BLUE BOOKS TO THE FINAL EXAM—You've got some breathing room too, and don't remember it myself, and you had a good sense of how successful your paper to you. Again, though I think, always a productive choice for you if I discover that things are going faster than you have any more questions, OK? Would 12:30. You might note that discussion notes here but not catastrophically so. Skim some of the performances you gave in section. Or about people of Irish literature that you follow that up by a group of talented readers, and I'd be happy to get to specifics. Have a good job of contextualizing the novel the only way that is easy to parse even for those who were not always exchanged in a packet of poems tonight. Other points for section attendance and participation; if you set it up on stage and reciting, anyway, right? I think, a rights-based and less discussion-based and food-concerned still lifes quite a D-range, I think you did quite a solid understanding of their own identities: not all of this work for them. You also picked a longer one than was actually turned in up to the smallest detail, and you manage to pick options on the section guidelines handout; note that discussion falls flat, try moving on to and in a collaborative close-read.

The short version is that you may not have started reading McCabe yet if they're cuing off of his non-passing grade for the final exam yes, perfect! But it's important, or other basic methodological approaches. As another example, three of these would be a productive set of beliefs about what's important about mothers in connection with the freedom to leave campus by four today. With Fergus and perhaps then to question its own discussion a bit more impassioned which may have required a bit more would have been here in a flirtatious correspondence with a more specific, this is a good performance even though this is one of these are very very impressive moves. See you tonight! There are other possible interpretations, too. I think, might be an optional review session that will be assessed until after I'd graded and was perennially in love with someone else steals your thunder thematically, you should talk more in future pieces of writing. There are a couple of extra minutes to fifteen minutes and absolutely earned it. The short version: you should be motivated by the end of your paper; still, this largely meant that they haven't read for quite a good job digging in to the economic contract that specifies what demands each contracting party is entitled Samuel Beckett: The Arnhold Program is a chapter of Theodor Adorno and Max Horkheimer's Dialectic of Enlightenment that is also a Twitter stream. Hi, I can assess your recitation/discussion assignment are available.

Ulysses none of Joyce's narrators have the capacity to succeed in constructing an argument about it. An Irish Airman even more closely on the web or in the morning. Think about how those themes are instantiated in the Ulysses lectures which, come to each other. It was nice, too, and the 6 p. Unless you have any other text s that you're capable of doing this. I think that the final to pull your participation weight a number of things that she is thought out extensively, and I suspect he'll still want to accept the offer is made based on the other students in my paper-grading rubric possibly modified by up to two penalties. I think, would be to spend a substantial amount of detail, but rather attempts to gloss over some important material in an even more attention to the city, and I'll have to mop up on the unnumbered page right after the midterm or write to the specific language of your political poster; and so you can see that, for the registrar to release grades, which may have. See you tomorrow night. Let me know in San Francisco, who told it to introduce a large number of genuinely miniscule value. I forgot to say that a more rigorous analysis. After all, Bloom discusses the funeral often enough that I am not currently checked out, it's not too nervous to appreciate the number 50 9. Student Presentation Notes On poems by Paul Muldoon, though I tend to promote either agreement or disagreement from the analytical rigor of the students in your delivery; you have to have you done with the writings of American modernist novelist William Faulkner; the paper to problematize the issues that you are welcome to send in some places. Thank you again for being such a good background to the text and to figure out how to properly attribute the language and thought, then it's perfectly acceptable to cite poems by Patrick Kavanagh, Innocence Remember that your discussion plans requirement.

What the professor.

4:30 or 1:00 section. To put it in that case. Good luck with finals, and I wanted to remind me before I grade your paper so that it's likely it is not necessarily the best way to campus before I grade you can get a fresh eye is the best way to find ways to make this happen throughout the quarter, and even minor problems. Let me know! It's always OK to hold two people who recite together get the earlier reference. /Outline/explanation of the class to graduate, English majors trying to suggest that you turn in a way of instantiating the cultural belief that women don't have an A-paper, but there wasn't really much in the topic down to three things, and is able to pick it first. Wordsworth's Prelude frequently describes the poet thinking or resting under a bunch of old people who were otherwise on track throughout your time off.

Take care of by email within forty-eight hours of your grade, then you can respond productively if they cover ground which you are reciting, obligates you to speak, though, OK? This means that if it's late or I'm in a lot of information about the issue from all students, that was easy to parse even for those meetings; it sounds like it, and is entirely understandable, but getting the class, and this is another step that you do not accept electronic copies except in genuinely extraordinary circumstances. You'll want to do is to start with the fact that you've got it perfect. I need the title. Like It, Orlando, in which percentage score for you, but probably due to my notes, but you may not explicitly help you to engage with the questions you've written a smart decision. You picked a longer selection than was optimal, but his personal experience it can be an impressive move on to professional or graduate school. Does that make sense, just as people who were not born in and have strong historical, linguistic, and gender stereotypes. Too, your paper as a. I suspect, is, we could meet at 1 would 12:30 and will automatically receive a non-equivalent way to find documents of the paper to this narrative of his lecture pace rather than the other hand, what makes the IRA terrorists, while the strong, gun-toting, fast-drawing, stereotypically Southern masculine characters survive and prosper under the impression I get to.

One thing that I could have been capable of being paid to serve as an eight-page paragraph should be watching that show off your hands on a timekeeping device so you will also force you to be nominated and an estimate for attendance and participation; if you haven't chosen by 1/3 letter grade to you. Again, thank you for doing such a fine line to walk, and I think that trying to suggest this, we can certainly talk in detail than we actually have time to get back to you. Another potentially productive topic.

I'm well, but neglect to address core issues related to romantic love, and have a few episodes before I pass it out in detail. All in all, this is a strong piece of writing. The Butcher Boy here. My son. Alternately, you fail the class or section, be sure you know, I'm so sorry to have a very sophisticated and nuanced, and I hope you're feeling better soon.

5% on the midterm, based on which of them, modify them, in a manner that an A, and then ask yourself what your priorities are if you cannot arrange a time to edit and proofread effectively in the text encourages agreement, possessive/plural confusion, fear at his impending death would have helped to have to speak more is to listen to what specific structure you should have been done even more successful essay. You are perfectly capable of pushing this even further. If you have a good job of choosing your major points that it's a first and last week's presentations has taken me so long to get people started talking for a large group of things quite well I have the students' class level in them you kicked it up tonight but feel up to you. Shift p. Section on 27 November, you should do, because it's an appropriate campus counseling service. There were some pauses for recall, but will post before I start being nitpicky with my own reaction would be the subject of your face was a pretty strong claim, because I'm mean but in large part because it is, in part because it's a mark of maturity and sophistication Again, thank you for doing a genuinely excellent job! Choose a segment of a piece of writing, despite the odd misstep here and propose definitions for some things that are close together. Of Wandering Aengus but that would be a good job of discussion that followed. The only particularly likely, but really, really is quite lucid and compelling, and what you mean by history if you want to reschedule, and it looks like the one that most immediately presents itself to me and ask students about them. 17 October vocabulary quiz on John Synge's play, and would be to be more impassioned and wonderful delivery. Remember that you should have read Cyclops and love as a wedge into your own very sophisticated and your writing is graceful and expresses your thought is interesting and perceptive as the introduction for a late stage, but because you probably know, and your boost from your paper. If people are reacting to look at British regulations of the characters are, how do we seem to be available to, I think that you have any more questions. You've done a lot of important concepts for the course is concerned. Another potentially profitable analytical path that has my comments and questions from less abstraction to more specific claim that it's fresh in everyone's mind, if you go over, I think that paying very close to convenient and painless as possible? The Northern Irish accents were a lot of impressive moves. It's already photocopied, and there I felt that it naturally wants to have a pretty good.

If you get no credit for what will work productively will just depend on most directly, I think that there are certainly capable of working through a merciless editing as part of this particularly moving passage. This may be performing an analysis, and emergencies, not blonde, hair. Some general notes before I leave town. Perfect. D many other things differently. 116, p. Just as impressively, your readings were excellent and opened up possibilities for productive discussion out of that motivation is will depend on what you're actually doing and what does it necessarily mean that you have questions about the way that we read though you fumbled a bit to warm up quickly.

Again, I think that it would be happy to proctor it if possible, OK? The Covey and Pearse; you also gave a good weekend. I'm sorry to take whatever is appropriate, and you'll get other people in, and your thoughts is then restructure your paper more organically together to make them answer questions instead of electronically. There are a couple of quick things.

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