#count the number of times i said the word funny... where has all my vocabulary gone lol

[youtiaoshutiao]

传闻中的陈芊芊 thoughts

i haven’t been very active lately but i just came on to say, i binged on the romance of tiger and rose / 传闻中的陈芊芊 and have 2 eps left and i love it SO SO MUCH. i was expecting some pure crack but beyond that, i really ended up catching much feels for it?

and i think beyond the outlandish hilarity of some of the scenes and the cheeky meta, it’s actually a pretty decent drama with its plot and character motivations largely dictated by logic. i have to commend the scriptwriter nan zhen 南镇 for the entire set up of the drama (and it’s her original script!!! which is so rare in the industry nowadays run over by book adaptations - i mean i love those too but i still think it’s an easy way out for production companies when they adapt books with established fan bases). it’s actually really clever of her because all plot holes/flaws in world building can easily be attributed to xiaoqian’s lousy scriptwriting abilities?

i really did become quite impressed with the plot as the episodes progressed haha. the conflict and plot thickens as xiaoqian, now as qianqian, with the mindset that she’s not part of this story at all and that she’s interacting with a bunch of characters on paper, continues to engineer plot machinations trying to steer the plot in the right direction to get to the end so she can return back to the real world. and you slowly see how that just devolves into complete chaos and plot twists when surprise! she IS part of the story, she IS interacting with these characters and they are influenced by what she says and does! so you have her original male lead hanshuo, destined for the female lead chuchu, falling in love instead with her and changing his entire plan because of that. you have chuchu, the original female lead, slowly growing more unhinged as she perceives qianqian’s actions and words as callous and uncaring and outrightly antagonistic towards herself and as her resentment builds when everyone seems to shower affection and attention on qianqian still.

adding on to that is, how xiaoqian as a scriptwriter views and perceives her characters? some characters like hanshuo, she clearly constructed with much care and love, as seen by how she knows exactly how to make hanshuo happy and doesn’t want to upset him in the initial episodes (which caused him to fall for her like a devoted puppy). yet it seems like she either didn’t grasp fully their character motivations/personality/how their character is moulded by their backgrounds? which is why she probably didn’t see how the inherent difference with which her mother treats qianqian vs chuchu would lead to jealousy and resentment seeping in and poisoning chuchu’s heart. and her visualising han shuo as a murderous calculating career-driven male lead aka the male lead of eastern palace clearly runs contrary to how he is total putty and has barely hurt a fly ever since he fell in love with qianqian.

and there are characters too like her mother that she originally clearly just wrote in as characters to steer the plot forward, and in-world, she is clearly stricken when she realises how they have emotions and hidden depths beyond what she fathomed - like when her and her mother had that semi HTHT after she stole the dragon bone and her mum stayed by her bedchamber to watch over her all night. and another example would be su ziying - she’s so happy to see him when he appears as in that moment she’s viewing him from the lens of the scriptwriter of this story and she knows he’s going to push the plot forward. but seeing him and his actions actually playing out - she gets irritated by what he does and also his actions actually do end up affecting her, because she is in the story too!!!

and moving on from that, as the plot further progresses, another spanner is thrown into the mix when she realises that male lead is really really in love with her! and would give up everything for her! and... she too is in love with him!! and this changes things too because while initially all her actions were to push the plot to move forward the way she originally wrote it so that she can head back, now she’s actively trying to push back against the flow of events, as she’s now emotionally invested in this and doesn’t want the male lead to die as per her original script.

the play out of all these was really really entertaining and gripping to watch?? i was legitimately bowled over by how affected i was when all the angst came in, because it really felt like it made sense amidst all the crack and was well set up? and throughout it all, the actions of all the main players in the plot made sense and were logical, even the secondary leads chuchu and peiheng. haha idek if i’m ascribing too much credit to this whole plot, maybe it’s really just meant to be a cracky fun time and i’m too into it HAHA.

there’s also the set up of huayuan city being a matriarchal society where basically the roles of women and men are reversed. it is really v trippy!!! and An Experience to see scenes like men being harrassed by women, people tittering at other men for not being covered up enough in public, wares that can increase your chances of birthing a female heir being peddled on the streets. initially i was kind of apprehensive as to how it was going to play out. now at ep 22 where they’ve gone to xuanhu city which is patriarchal the conversation regarding gender roles and gender equality is continuing!! but i shall reserve my thoughts and comments till the entire arc plays out.

but beyond all that, the drama is just so much fun fun funnnnn!!!! i loveddddd seeing how this drama about a scriptwriter getting stuck in her own script had scenes interspersed with storytellers on the street retelling qianqian’s exploits and qianqian’s regular meetups with the storytellers/opera writers to discuss how the plot of the drama was going or even the scene where hanshuo and peiheng went to the opera house for their male lead showdown and the opera characters were there saying all the rude things they wanted to say to each other. such fun meta?? breaking the fourth wall?? satire?? idek LOL i just know i enjoyed it thoroughly

and lastly, apart from all the thinky thinky stuff, i’m thoroughly charmed by the otp HAHA. i loveeeee qianqian so much and zhao lusi is soo effortlessly adorable and natural and charming in this role that i can totally see why everyone from han shuo to her mother is enamoured by her. i actually am really curious also to see how qianqian before xiaoqian transmigrated into her body was like - seeing how her servant didn’t seem to have any whiplash from an extreme change in personality suggest that maybe qianqian wasn’t all that different from xiaoqian?? and probably might not have been that spoilt/callous/havoc-wreaking as everyone perceives her to be?

and han shuo too is SO entertaining and funny and darling - when he first came to huayuan city he’s all “i’m cunning and smart and i’m going to MANIPULATE EVERYBODY for my/xuan hu city’s benefit” and “i want chen qianqian to die with ten thousand arrows through her heart!! i want her to be stabbed by knives three thousand times!! not a single time less!!!” and “do you think i don’t dare to kill you?!”. then he falls in love with her and instantly he’s all puppy eyes and utter devotion. IT’S DELICIOUS. ding yuxi really makes staring at your FL like she’s the only one in the world an art form. and as one comment on a bilibili mv said regarding han shuo’s supposed bloodlust, “han shuo, up to this point you’ve only killed one horse” HAHA

(keep in mind that it’s not even that han shuo ordered the killing of this horse, it was his subordinate that killed it on his behalf, and han shuo was Not Happy about it after that!)

together the otp are even more adorable!!! it’s teeth rotting fluff but yet it comes off very earnest and adorable without being cloying. i was literally clutching my heart and grinning at the screen dopily at some scenes. and even though the otp dynamic and character setups are not really the same, the way the two of them bicker and act like children around each other kind of remind me of yongqi and xiaoyanzi from hzgg for some reason lol.

and apart from the otp, there are a whole host of supporting characters that are really very funny and adorable and entertaining to watch haha. special shoutout to both han shuo and qianqian’s subordinates who are HILARIOUS and plain Done with their masters’ nonsense (especially bai ji who really just wants to get shit done okay!! but his master just keeps on wanting to fall in love and date!!) there’s also qianqian’s older sister yuanyuan who is disabled and on a wheelchair, and with a sad yet somehow hilarious penchant for writing multiple drafts of her will. and her otp, su mu, a courtesan (yes the courtesans in this city are all male).

honestly i’m not sure where i’m going with this, i just briefly scanned through what i’ve written so far and lol seems like paragraphs of illogical incoherent rambling. I’m sorry it’s 5am over here i’m not really thinking straight T_T i just have a lot of feels for this drama okay ;_____;

[merminns]

Bad influence

Fred Weasley x Reader

❧ Content: fluff, just the Weasley Twins and Lee being trouble makers

❧ Word count: 1.8k

❧ Notes: this is a repost from my old blog

It has been a calm, peaceful morning. It was finally the weekend after a long tiring week. You had agreed to spend the morning with your friends in your dorm to make up for the lack of time you spent together during the week, then the rest of the day is reserved for your boyfriend, who has grown restless over the lack of attention you’ve been giving him.

The sun was giving off enough warmth as you walked through the hallways to where you and Fred agreed to meet. Your walk held an air of blissful silence that you rarely ever get. Being a student in Hogwarts and dating one of the infamous Weasley twins, ‘peace’ and ‘silence’ aren’t words that usually made it into your daily vocabulary.

You love Fred, so much that it sometimes feels unbelievable, but sometimes you just long for some peace after all the chaos that comes with dating him.

Unfortunately for you, today wasn’t a day where peace would find its place. Your peaceful walk was cut short when you noticed all the noise in the hallway ahead of you. You walked closer to the noise, only to come face to face with a chaotic scene.

The first thing you noticed how the hallway was unusually filled with students. It was very unlikely for this number of students to be packed in one place on the weekend. But that wasn’t even the problem. Almost every student was on the ground struggling to stand, and those standing seemed to be struggling with keeping their balance.

The chaos should have been enough for you to stop in your tracks, but the confusion you felt kept you moving forward. Before you knew it, your feet were slipping fast. The world started spinning as you lost all balance and you closed your eyes in preparation for your awkward fall.

But the cold hard surface of the ground didn’t come. Instead, you felt an arm wrap quickly around your waist as you were pulled into a broad chest. Your eyes opened cautiously to meet the familiar red sweater with a golden ‘F’ in the center.

“Fancy meeting you here,” your gaze shifted upwards to come in level with your boyfriend’s grinning face “Seems like you quite literally fell for me.”

Despite the panicked state you were in a few seconds ago, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at Fred’s silly comment as he helped steady you on the slippery floor. It’s not even a surprise he is here, wherever chaos is Fred was sure to be found.

“Let me guess, you’re responsible for this.” you stated. Chaos and Fred in one place, it’s only reasonable to assume he caused the chaos rather than just be there. Fred confirmed it when his goofy grin turned into a smirk. A smirk matching those on George’s and Lee’s faces as they waved to you from where they stood behind Fred.

“We figured a spell to wax the floor without making it obvious,” he replied proudly “here, have some fluffy socks, they should do the trick.”

Of course, it is never possible to spend a single boring moment when these three are around. “Wax the floor don’t you think that’s k—”

“MR WEASLEY!”

The booming voice unmistakably belonged to professor McGonagall. You felt the little hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

It won’t be hard for her to figure what was going on, and despite usually living up to their pranks, the trio was in serious trouble this time. It’s not even about this silly prank, it’s more about the amount of trouble they get themselves into.

These three had been getting into plenty of trouble lately. Some Slytherins think it’s funny to tail after them and inform the closest professor about their newest prank. The number of house points they lost was horrifying. It even reached the point where they were threatened that if they were found causing more trouble, they’d be forbidden from joining any quidditch activities till the end of the year. So they agreed that if they ever got caught again, the first action of defense is to escape.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see George and Lee taking baby steps away from the scene to avoid getting into trouble, leaving you and Fred into the direct line of fire.

Fred, whose arm was still wrapped around your waist, tried to retreat as well, dragging you with him before McGonagall’s figure is close enough to prevent your escape. And it would have worked, had it not been for your clumsiness.

You managed, with the help of the waxed floor, to trip over your own feet. This time no one was there to break your fall. You fell face first dragging Fred and a couple of the standing students along with you, leaving you trapped under a mass of bodies.

By the time you recovered from the fall, professor McGonagall’s stern face was towering over you, wand in her hand, and the ground beneath you had lost its waxiness.

“Care to explain, Mr. Weasley?”  

It’s common for you to not be one of those held responsible for such chaos. You were always known to be the goody-two-shoes. The model student, one who’d never cause any trouble.

It was even a common wonder to Hogwarts how you ended up with a trickster like Fred. No one had any idea that sometimes, you would be the mastermind to one of the trio’s pranks. Only a select few knew that you could cause a lot more trouble than Fred could.

But now, Fred was the only one around to blame for the complete chaos and the coupe of minor injuries caused by the silly prank. You know there’s no way for him out of this one. He’d be prevented from playing quidditch.

The thought filled you with an uneasy feeling. You know how much he loves the sport, separating him from his broom was like taking away part of him. And a glance at your boyfriend’s face was enough indication that he is thinking the same.

“It’s my fault!” you said before Fred could open his mouth to speak. Now, you aren’t any good at lying, and McGonagall wouldn’t just believe that a ‘perfect’ student such as yourself could cause so much trouble.

You slowly reach for your wand and hold it up. "I was trying to practice a new spell but it went wrong.”

You definitely are not a good liar but you had no choice here. Lying is your only way out of, or rather, into trouble.

“See, professor?” you said with a shy smile “Fred was just trying to help me… I’m sorry for causing trouble.”  

If your lie wasn’t obvious, then the incredulous look on Fred’s face was enough evidence that you’re lying. It was very clear to McGonagall you are trying to get your boyfriend out of trouble.

A brave move. And if McGonagall admired anything in the world it is small brave actions like this.

You could see a tiny smile on her face. She can call you out for your lie and punish Fred. But she couldn’t bring herself to let your effort go to waste.  The only downside? Someone has to be punished, especially because of the audience of students watching the scene, and you choose to be that someone.

Detention is boring, a complete waste of time and energy. But you’re thankful McGonagall was going easy on you. Having detention where you just sit around practicing transfiguration spells over and over again is so much better than any other outcome that could have taken place.

Though if Fred thinks he’s off the hook after this, he’s dead wrong. How dare he get himself into enough trouble that you’d have to go through detention to save his ass. You’re going to have to watch over him, he can’t get into any more trouble! And you just want to spend more time with him.

Your train of thoughts was rudely interrupted when a loud knock sounded at the closed door of the almost empty class. As McGonagall got distracted by whoever’s at the door, you caught movement through the corner of your eyes.

You shifted your attention to where the movement came from to see Fred waving at you from behind a statue placed at the far corner of the room, a wide grin covering his face as he motioned for you to come over. You mentally facepalmed, this is only getting you into deeper trouble.

You slowly inched closer to where your boyfriend was hidden out of McGonagall’s sight. He waited until you were close enough to pull you into him behind the statute.

“What are you doing? We’ll get in trouble?” you whispered as he crouched to the ground to pull on an almost invisible trap door. “What the hell?! When did this get here?”

“Shut up, you’ll get us caught!” he whispered back as he helped you down through the trap door and jumping in after you.

You walked through a dark tunnel the only light coming from Fred’s wand. You mattered a quick ‘Lumos’ to allow yourself more light. The walk wasn’t comfortable; the space was cramped and dark and completely unfriendly. Only kept moving thanks to Fred’s encouragement until you noticed another source of light ahead of you. As you walked closer you could see another trapdoor wide open above your heads.

As you walked closer, you noticed a hand reaching down to help you out of the claustrophobic space and into a dusty classroom that seems like it has been deserted for quite a while. The room was empty, aside from you and George who was now helping his brother up.

You waited until George closed the trapdoor and pulled a small worn out rug over it before you turned to your boyfriend.

“Before you ask, yes, we used the map” Fred beat you to it as he started explaining their little plan to help you escape.

Lee acted as a distraction as Fred helped you escape, George was to help you out of the trapdoor and then leave to notify Lee that the plan worked.

Your goofy little boyfriend managed to come up with a plan to ‘get you out’ of detention along with these two troublemakers. It won’t be long before McGonagall notices your absence, but your detention was just for show anyway, you doubted she’d punish you for this.  

But this was still escaping detention and it’s something that you never thought you’d ever do. You never even got in detention before you started dating Fred. You were never a saint, you liked to do be a little mischievous sometimes, but you always managed to keep your front as the model student.

But now, your beloved boyfriend was slowly turning you into a troublemaker as well, but you couldn’t say that you didn’t enjoy every exciting moment you spent with him.  

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[tsuumu]

beautiful stranger.

oikawa x reader

a short piece in which oikawa tooru approaches you on a idyllic evening. it’s a little awkward though, since you’re trying to die.

word count: 3.3k

tw: indirect and direct implications of suicide.

your warm hands stay gripped onto the metal rails in front of you, applying enough force to watch your knuckles turn white. you find yourself doing it over and over until your fingers numb from the continued pressure. alone, you’re mulling over mundane affairs. you’d rather not be thinking about them but find this loop all too easy to fall into.

the shadow of the railing casts over a large canal, its water sifting freely, far beneath you. it laps over itself, slithers of fish break the transparent surface as they swim. some of their scales rise to kiss the sunlight in opaque relfections.

thin layers of petals scatter the ground beneath your feet that have slipped from overhead trees and continue to flutter down freely. glowers of dying sunlight seep through the shapes of them as they fall.

in this moment, autumn is alive.

it’s really lovely right now.

you’re here, all caught up in chasing that feeling of peace. safety in an open space. you have to cope with that fact that tranquility never comes easily for you.

there’s nothing that should be leaving you as deeply unsettled as you are. you’ve learnt to largely ignore feeling so overwhelmed, though it stirs and resurfaces times you wish it wouldn’t.

what’s bugging you is that you can’t quite get a grasp on your own life.

for starters, everything lacks coherent meaning. to you, there’s something constantly missing every single day. nothing purchasable, nothing attainable through hard-work and any level of perseverance. truly, it affects you so much so that even just standing here, feet glued to the very spot that is undeniably ‘lovely’, brings you nothing but unimaginable sadness.

earlier, you brushed it away as an off day but you know that’s not true. you’ve been feeling like this all the time.

it is, therefore, not at all abnormal to wonder: can a person have such thing as an off life?

you really don’t like to think about things like this too much. once you begin to muse over deep naysay you find yourself snowballing.

solutions are painfully unobtainable and it’s generally as productive as chasing pavements.

do i really enjoy being alone? or am i obsessed with the sensation loneliness brings?

“you know, if you stare long enough, you might end up wanting to jump in.”

at once, your vision snaps up, taken aback by the additional voice. you hadn’t realised that during your mindless lamenting, another person had quietly joined you by the evening canal-side.

fair skinned, dark eyed, chocolate curls brushed neatly over his features and cowlicks that bob against the light gusts of wind.

a boy offers you a smile, before shifting his feet towards the empty space to your left. you can’t seem to process him, staring at the empty spot he’d been in seconds earlier.

you’re not supposed to be here right now.

“i was totally kidding by the way.” he adds. “that was really dark, sorry.”

you’re silent in return, eyes casting back onto the running stream. the water is shallow and the fall long, so jumping in would certainly prove fatal. you know all of this too well. it’d disturb the fish who are just here to live, though, it’ll only be for a moment. they won’t know any better.

you don’t really know what to say. it’s troubling that he’s here and hearing it out loud disturbs you, like a direct call out. at no point were you prepared for any kind of conversation prior.

the two of you stand there in complete silence. it’s not particularly awkward, you just don’t know why he’s approached you so easily, talking to you like he’s known you well enough to make outlandish jokes.

asking directly for his intentions seems rude, so you’ll put up with it until he leaves.

“do you always come here?” the stranger pipes up once more, though his focus doesn’t leave the water. you breathe in deeply.

“sometimes.”

“oh, i see.”

his palms lay flat and he pushes gently off of the rails, only to fall back onto them with all his weight. he does it again, repeating the process over and over at a steady pace. you stay hunched over, keeping your distance. he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest though, clearly absorbed in his surroundings.

“it’s like a set out of a movie, this place. seems like somewhere i’d ask my girlfriend to marry me.”

your tongue rolls around in your mouth.

yes. you think. his girlfriend would most likely be thrilled-over the top-squealing if he did. that’s entirely his business.

you really don’t care to hear of other people’s romantic endeavours.

is it out of jealousy? you don’t know. maybe.

this conversation is meaningless. you wish he’d go away sooner so you could have this time to yourself.

also, jealousy is an ugly word. you hate it.

he stops his movement with a exhale of air, tilting his head back to blink up at the warm sky. the last touches daylight mingle with the oncoming darkness, creating a deep tinge of orangey-yellow.

“when’s your birthday?”

‎a petal lands on the bridge of your hand, sticking to your skin.

“do you want my social security number?” you deject.

“what? no!”

“are you sure? really, i’ll give it to you.”

“no!”

“then why are you asking for my personal information?”

‎

he falls silent for a moment, before mumbling out a small: “just wondering.”

a tinge of guilt creeps over you at his apologetic tone. you admit, your answers thus far must make you seem like a completely unapproachable asswipe. you’re not at all. you just aren’t all that sure how to make small talk with strangers when you’re trying to part with the world by dinner time.

it feels like an unexpected guest at your very lonesome party.

“it’s (insert birth month).” you fold.

he purses his lips, face contorting a little.

“i see.”

he doesn’t continue down that path after your response. the both of you return to a mutual silence, staring into the portrait scenery ahead. the stream fills the soundscape pleasantly. fallen leaves have gathered at the base of your shoes, brushing over the tip gently with the turn of the wind. you observe them quietly.

“can i ask you another question?”

he seems a tad more timid now.

he definitely thinks you’re the type to blow up and give him an earful about minding his own business, doesn’t he?

you’d never raise your voice. in general, but also because it’d break the comfort of the scenery the world has so generously given you.

“sure.”

“do you believe in soulmates?”

‎the question is a little random but not impossible to answer by any means.

“no.”

“what?”

“i said not really.”

“you said no.”

“that’s the same thing.”

“...fair enough.”

‎he exhales out, sounding a little disheartened by your curt response. perhaps to him, you were a tough nut to crack; an ambiguity for him to understand. were all people like that? you weren’t playing hard to get, in fact, you’d answered every single enquiry he has had to offer. his efforts are amusing, though.

you raise a brow at him.

“i’m sorry, was that the wrong answer?”

for a moment, he doesn’t reply, stuffing his hands into his pockets, gazing down at the head of his shoe. pivoting his ankle, he draws small circles with the tip of his foot into the ground, into the dead leaves.

“not at all.”

“your expression says otherwise.”

“um, it was just a bit bleak, i guess.”

you let your arms droop way over the railing, fingers wading through the autumn air. you’d never really taken the concepts of soulmates to heart. it was romantic bullshit put out by somebody looking for a fantasy to indulge in. out of seven billion people, there could hardly be a singular person made for you. people aren’t born for other people. if that were the case, it wouldn’t be a rose-tinted fantasy. it would be suffocating. where’s the freedom in love?

“most people always answer like you these days anyway.”

“oh, sorry.”

he looks up at you, tilting his head.

“no, don’t be.”

back to a default mute, left with nothing but the faint chitter of overhead swallows and the odd rumble of cars passing by.

“tooru.” he states, after a while.

“what?”

“tooru. my name is tooru.”

“oh, okay.”

“oikawa tooru.”

‎your fingertips have become flushed. maybe you’d pressed a little too hard on that cold surface earlier. now that all your blood has come rushing back, the tingling sensation feels foreign.

his name slips of the tongue rather easily, don’t you think?

“nice to meet you, oikawa tooru.”

“it is nice, isn’t it?”

for the first time, your gazes meet properly and you offer him a crooked smile.

“i suppose so.”

off the side of the canal, almost right under the bridge, a small cluster of ducks have gathered. adult ducks tend to be considerably larger than its offspring —as is factual with any animal— so it’s easy for you to tell that there’s only one parent there, along with three of its ducklings.

people like to come to the canal to feed the ducks bread, though you’d heard somewhere that it’s actually quite bad for them.

you wonder. do ducks care particularly if one of its ducklings die? will it do something with the body, cry out, hurt?

or is grief exceptionally human?

“i don’t actually have a girlfriend, by the way.”

he sifts out his phone, tapping the screen and sliding it open. you watch him turn it to its side, before leaning over to take a picture of the depths below. you just watch.

“oh, okay.”

he doesn’t elaborate, focused intently on his current task. your attention returns to the shape of the birds, bobbing up and down rhythmically.

there’s only so much you can say about the canal. yeah, it’s beautiful. you don’t have the right vocabulary to describe the way it makes you feel. honestly, it feels abysmal to even try. you’re convinced though, that you’re in love with the way the water moves. you’ve always appriciated it whenever you walk past, told yourself jokingly that you could die there if you had to.

funny, that.

beautiful things tend to hurt in an unbearably amplified manner.

“say, tooru?”

“yeah?”

“if i climbed over the railing right now, would you stop me?”

you’re both fixated on the paddling now. his phone is back in his pocket, elbows propped up. he hums, taking his time to think over your question.

“most likely.”

your fingers meet one another and the tingling spreads to your palms.

“i’m thinking of jumping, actually.”

“oh.”

“yeah.”

“my joke earlier...”

“yeah.”

his fingers drum rhythmically on the slender poles under the rail top.

“then i’d jump right in with you.”

the corners of his mouth tug slightly at your perplexity, supressing a chortle. he’s not laughing at you, though. it’s more a gesture of understanding. this tooru doesn’t know you at all, yet he gets it. he gets it all too well.

you get that he gets it.

tooru clears his throat. “bad day?”

“that’s an understatement.”

“well, you’re not a bad person for feeling the way you do.”

by now, the ducks have swam away, you can make out the general shape of them, melding into the distant, mute colours of the bankside. the sky look minutes away from being set alight. time has never been your friend, you see.

“i feel crazy for trying.” you’re rather blunt about it.

“fair enough.”

“…is that all?”

“well, do you want me to tell you that you’re not crazy?”

you lull into silence.

“i don’t know.”

with that, you shift to angle yourself so that he’s in your immediate peripheral, the thought of gawking at him seems ridiculous but you want to look at him. you find it hard to do it up front for some reason.

“i’m no suicide expert, but it’d probably be lonely doing something like that by yourself. wouldn’t it be comforting to know someone’s falling with you?”

your fingers run absently across the jagged surface of the rails, the old paint has been chipped away at, after all its years of protecting. in all it’s history, had anyone else hitched themselves over this very rail?

were they asking for the same answers as you?

god. that’s awful. you don’t want to think about that.

you catch each others’ eyes for a second but you resign quickly, focusing as hard as you can on the flecks of black on your thumb.

“that would be selfish of me.”

“not if i’m offering.”

you scramble to look anywhere else, abruptly turning. you’re facing away from the canal, stomach fluttering a little as you fall onto the rail’s length.

in all your time by yourself, you’d never been given an irrefutable reason to ‘be’. it’d always been a live-for-the-day type of experience. if a day is good, you’re utterly blissed out by it, totally in love with life. if it’s bad, you have little reason to go on. nothing particularly interests you enough to dedicate your days persuing it. fame seems tedious, looks are temporary, a six figure career sounds like emotional jail-time, or a slow, schedule-filled trek to death. whichever description sounds more sufferable.

you see, in essence, we all get off at the same bus stop. some journeys are simply shorter than others.

“you’re guilt-tripping me out of it.”

“i’m not!”

you’ve never stopped to ask yourself what it is you want.

death interests you, you suppose. though, you don’t see the reason to wait around and pretend to ignore it until one day it drags you kicking and screaming.

“oikawa tooru, don’t you have better things to be doing than offering to jump off bridges with strangers?”

that coy smile tugs at his lips once more. nothing you say seems to phase him. it’s like he knows you. he’s thinking: yeah, this isn’t anything out of the ordinary for them.

“should i? you look at that water like it’s someone you hate. or love. maybe both. i got curious.”

“curious?”

“yes. and quite frankly, you’ve left me curious. practically starving. you haven’t even told me your name.”

“my name doesn’t matter.”

“boo. that’s not true at all.”

his tongue pokes out, tugging at the corner of his eye. you shake your head, genuinely unable to hide your amusement, turning to him properly this time.

and really, it’s like the canal side and oikawa tooru were made from the same stardust. he blends right into the picture, as effortlessly pretty as the rest of it.

the strands of hair out of place, a little disheveled from the breeze. the scarf buried into his nose, glasses a little misty from the heat of his own breath but when they clear, you see his eyes all too well.

you’d like to tuck those strands into place, they’re bothering you just a little.

“(y/n).”

your brows furrow a little.

really, this could all very well be some sort of fantastical dream. as nice as it all is, it feels painfully unreal. boys don’t look like that on autumn evenings or offer to die with you.

that’s it.

tooru must be a figment of your imagination.

no. wrong. not a dream.

this is a corner of your mind you haven’t ventured into yet, psychologically, some kind of safety net. a sliced off piece of reality you’ve come to hide in because you’ve utterly lost your mind. he is nothing but a part of you that makes you feel at ease as you come to terms with your self-destruction.

god, that bothers you more. you are crazy.

your hand extends, reaches out all on its own.

you just want to know if he’s real.

oikawa tooru glances down for a moment, he’s probably wondering about you, what’s left you in such a state. though, he’s happy to slide his palm against yours, latching onto it. he shakes once, twice. a little more. tightens his hold a bit.

the weight of his fingers as they brush lightly against your palm is fantastical. he’s so warm. you can feel it spread through you from the pads of your fingers.

he’s very real.

tooru has rather pretty hands.

the contact makes you feel kind of delirious, a produce of being utterly touch-starved. just a simple touch. you’re embarrassed to say it but it takes everything inside of you not to start weeping or hold on frantically in case he does disappear, do something bizzare that’ll scare him away forever.

hey, tooru. are you made of honey?

“well, (y/n), i’m offering you my life right now.”

the sun has set foot on the horizon, plunging in ever so slightly. as a child, the thought of night scared you, feeling largely betrayed by the sun’s farewell. now, it’s a unique kind of comfort to see the moon. it’s as lonely as those who lay their eyes upon it.

“i don’t want it.”

his fingers slip downwards against the dips of your palm.

“you don’t?”

“no, i mean... i don’t want death. not right now..”

you don’t even want to think about it anymore. funny, how things like that work. you were so sure of it. today was the day. your dark rendezvous. weren’t you itching for it?

this bastard.

this man you’ve never met. he clasps onto your hand once and suddenly he stops your nauseating rollercoaster of thoughts and leaves you wondering if, actually, you’d like to see the canal-side again tomorrow, or in fifty years.

who are you really, oikawa tooru?

“no?”

“yeah.”

“then what do you want to do?”

“stay right here, i think.”

your fingers curl, maintaining your hold on him. you should be shy or awkward about this whole ordeal but so you’re desperate for that warmth to continue.

you both stand there, facing one another, hands extended. it’s a little robotic looking. you’re pretty stiff but very sure this is what feels right.

to you, existence is based solely on feeling your way through stages of life. that sickeningly sweet innocence of youth. childhood memories that to you, are dwindled husks of gold, valuable in some aspects but almost meaningless in others. to laugh or to cry allows an individual to create a deep-set connection to the environment around them. it is no longer passing scenery but a moment in your life you once lived through.

that’s beautiful, isn’t it?

unfortunately, emotion provides both a living fantasy and the potential for agony. life is not sweet, nor innocent. it is what you make of it.

it is what your mind is forced to make of it.

and as much as one wishes they were as coddled and loved as they were children, life beyond those years is lonely, difficult and more than you were ever capable of.

were you weak? perhaps.

but maybe people aren’t built for life. we’re all weak.

and realistically, if you are unable to clamber over one obstacle after another -established by those before you- you’re doomed to fall behind.

that will hurt. you will hurt unforgivably because self-worth is no longer a beautiful gift of internal discovery and love but another way to be measured and downsized externally. a practice that leads to hatred. a desire to die.

that’s really where it all began for you. a romantic, a poet at heart, living inside your own, kinder world. that is until reality knocked on your door, invited itself in, just to set the entire thing on fire and leave you as vulnerable as the day you were born.

you aren’t allowed to hide. it comes looking for you eventually.

your stance on life hasn’t changed, afterall, you’ve spent nights mourning over how much it can hurt to live. to fall asleep exhausted with yourself, only to wake up and do it all over again. what you do know, however, is that droning, lonely feeling isn’t there right now. that ongoing, battering ruckus inside your head has ceased. tooru, the strange magician, has left you thoughtless and a little dumb.

you like being this stupid. for once, there’s nothing intrusive prodding the inside of your head.

it’s frightfully quiet, actually. you don’t know what you’re feeling right now. how much time has passed since he’d made that awful joke?

his gaze is on your lingering contact, before lightly pulling you closer, twisting his wrist down so you’re holding hands. your gaze moves to the bankside. you feel comforted. maybe it isn’t death, maybe all you want is a hand to hold.

probably not. that is a stupid, sappy thought. you’re still fanatic about ending your life.

you were so close to doing it, without even really understanding what you were doing. the canal scenery is overpowering, numbing, if you will. without oikawa tooru, you may well have kissed those fishs’ fluorescent scales with your own two lips, as cold as ice with some unfortunate early-morning runner discovering you by twilight.

“we can do that.” he hesitates. “if i’m honest, i would have been pretty scared to jump.”

“yet you still offered?”

tooru hums merrily in confirmation.

“why?”

“because you’re cute.”

you can’t believe your own ears.

“what? seriously?”

“yeah. originally, i wanted your number but things took a small turn.”

you burst out in gutteral laughter, free hand back onto the railing for support. for a moment, you look at him, shaking your head in utter amazement.

“you’re a piece of work, tooru, you know?”

“yeah, i know.”

he smiles back at you. the shadows cast by the setting sun only make him all the more enigmatic.

now that you think about it, you can’t figure this guy out at all. it’s like staring at a wordless piece of paper and trying to find something legible.

“how do you know i won’t come back and repeat all of this tomorrow?”

tooru tilts his head ever so slightly, observing you. his eyes flutter down to your lips, speaking like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“because you told me your name.”

“what does that have to do with anything?”

“well, now that i know that, you’re no longer just a beautiful stranger.”

you understood now. he hadn’t just offered you his life, he’d offered you him. by living on, you’d accepted graciously. he knows that if you visit the canal side again, you’ll only remember this moment.

a bad moment that he, in all his glory, turned into a good one. the day you two first met.

oh, clever boy. he saved you.

though you must say, oikawa tooru, you’re very much mistaken.

you are the beautiful stranger.

a tear runs down your cheek, a little warmer than you could’ve expected.

one turns into two, slipping more and more. eventually, you’re standing over the canal, hand in hand with oikawa tooru, sobbing quietly as the water runs peacefully below the both of you.

[elles-writing]

When The Worlds Collide - VI

Kili x reader

A/N: Hey guys, sorry for not posting my own works in like two weeks or so. It was rough for my mental health and school was kicking my ass and I was not in a mood for doing many things, so now I hope you will like this long chapter!! It’s not really about the main plot, just some fluffy moments to enjoy. Also, it was my birthday 23rd September and it’s finally autumn!! I also don’t really know when am I going to draw, because like I said, I was not doing mentally well, but I think I could give it a shot in a next few days, because I’m on my autumn break, finally! I’ve been finishing a cake w my mom in past hour or so and I created a moon on it and waves in Gogh’s paintings style, I’ll show you a photo of it in next part.

gif not mine

gif not mine

gif not mine (inspo for the bun and cooking scene)

Also, I’m not sure in which year in modern world this shall be oriented, but songs I’ve been thinking of (aka you playing these to them):

Spanish: Volar – Alvaro Soler, also We Don’t Speak Americano

French: Amour Plastique – VIDEOCLUB, La Vie En Rose – Edith Piaf

Korean: Sweat, Blood & Tears – BTS (because I don’t know almost any Japanese songs, but I like this one and some other songs in Korean)

Vegetable pie – quiche (I’ve had a pumpkin one in a cafe and it was real good)

Warnings: fluff

tags: @moony-artnstuff​ @whenputtingpentopaper​

One of the fun things while having this group around was that they would constantly look around some rooms in your house and tell you how pretty it was, even if you haven't been tidying and cleaning it in two weeks at least. They also loved to explore your library and spended countless hours by reading the books. You've decided to introduce them to human culture. Only the basic things, really.

"So, here, the race of Men has developed into a different coultures and languages all over the world. Can you guess, for example, how many languages is here?" Kili didn't even thought about his answer.

"Well, you have one common language, so I guess just one, maybe two or three," He said with proud confident smile, changing in his typical cheeky grin as he winked at you. You chuckled and shook your head. Balin looked up from his book.

"There must be more. What about five, or ten?" You looked over others.

"Any other answer? C'mon, try out some number." You felt like a teacher in a class of many different students.

"Thirty languages, that could be," said Legolas calmly.

"Well, this is much bigger world, but it can't be that much. I guess twenty." Bard was thinking aloud.

"So, how is it, lass?" Fili asked and you couldn't help to cover a smile that was forming on your face.

"Well, actually, it's much more than that," you said. You've heard Gandalf to chuckle.

"It's over six thousand languages." Kili's eyes widened and his jaw fell down, Fili did pretty similar face. Most of them looked at you as if you'd told them you personally know Smaug and he's your best friend. And that dragons are the biggest cuddly softies.

"Bold of you to assume that whole population in this world speaks one language or a few dozens of them," you jokily murmed to yourself. Of course, elvish ears have picked that up. Thranduil looked at you with his icy glare.

„How does they sound, then?“ You pulled out your phone and opened YouTube.

„Well, this is a language called Spanish,“ You‘ve played one song in Spanish and all of them were listening to it, deeply in thought. You’ve noticed some dwarves trying to catch the lyrics, and when the song ended, you looked over them.

„This was Spanish, it’s one of the most largely-spoken languages all over the world. It can be slightely different, it depends on where you go. Then, there is another language, and it’s called French. It’s also called the ‚language of love‘, because it sounds softly and even as some sort of charm or magic.“ You looked to the elves.

„I think you may like it, it sounds a bit as an elvish in a way,“ You shrugged your shoulders, not wanting to offend them. They looked more interested in what you were about to play to them.

„This song is in French, but it’s a sad song. It’s also quite old, but I think it’s quite a good example, because it’s well-known, so,“ you left the sentence unfinished and played La Vie En Rose by Edith Piaf, then one more modern song in French so they’d get the idea. When it ended, you’ve spoken again.

„Well, then there are much different languages. This one is Korean,“ you said and played a song, around fourty seconds.

„What were they saying? It’s all so different!“ You’ve heard Fili and smirked.

„You haven’t heard Russian, Fili.“ Kili sat closer to you, just as a puppy needy for attention.

„They are all so different!“ He threw his hands into air. You smiled.

„Oh yeah, they are. But it’s better to know at least two languages, to get higher chances of getting a job. The more languages you know, the more likely will people want you to work for them.“ Bard piped up.

„How can you learn them? Some of them sound way too difficult to learn, that Korean for example, how would you learned that?“ You looked over to your library.

„Oh well, you can go to some classes and learn the language here, or you can learn them by yourself. There are many textbooks you can use for learning grammar, and you can use books in your target language to help you to learn the vocabulary. Or you can watch movies in that language, listen to a songs, read articles instead of books, text or call with somebody who speaks that language...there are plenty of ways to do so, there is probably even more of them. Also, depends on the language and the person. Some people learn easier when they’ll learn the basic grammar first, someone needs to learn the pronounciation first, and so on.“ You finished talking and they were staring at you, surprised.

„How many languages do you know, if I may ask?“ Balin looked curiously down at you, sitting with crossed legs on the floor with Kili sitting next to you. You’ve thought about his question.

„Well, I’m fluent in two languages, and I’m learning another one. It’s a great way to relieve stress and it’s really fun thing to do, even though sometimes you have to learn to write completely different letters.“ You showed them Koren, Japanese and Russian letters, and they couldn’t believe their eyes.

A few minutes later

Fili sat down to the other side, so you were seated between them and they could look on your phone and into your book about Korea and Japan.

„How can you write that? How can you read that? It’s impossible! It all sounds the same!“ Kili and Fili cried out when Google Translate pronounciation have proved them wrong after another attempt of reading the languages.

„Every language has it’s own rhytm and you have to really listen to it, so you will recognize the words. If you don’t know the languages, it does sound close. Maybe we could try out some French and Spanish, what do you think?“ You said after seeing the elves being annoyed that they could not pronounce it, but not complaining as the dwarf brothers.

But oh boy, French and Spanish, that was another challenge. Even if not that big, but still.

„How do you do that with your mouth?!“ Kili asked you, looking as unhappy, flustrated puppy whom you took it’s ball and refused to give it back (or throw it).

„There are some rules for something called grammar and pronounciation, which you are purposely ignoring and then you complain you don’t understand how to do it!“ You said and rolled your eyes.

„You always tell me it’s wrong!“

„Because it is! You are pronouncing it wrong! It’s leviOUsa, not levioSAAA-!“ You stopped and then you started laughing. Kili furrowed his eyebrows.

„What, what are you laughing about? What is so funny? Y/N? Y/N, are you okay?!“ Kili looked at you, lying on your back on the floor, tears from laugh sparkling in your eyes.

„I sound-I sound just like a Hermione! It’s not LevioSAA-“ You started laughing again and they all looked at you worried.

„Shall we be concerned?“ Fili asked and you shook your head.

„No, no, it’s okay, I just-“ You looked at Kili and tried to not to laugh again.

„I’m okay, it’s okay.“ You breathed in and out, slowly, closing your eyes. You didn’t noticed how most of them looked at each other. As if they’d ended up with some crazy person.

You spoken.

„Okay, I think that was enough of languages for today. I know you have Khuzdul, Elvish and common language in Middle-Earth, but here is much more. Human culture in here has been developing for thounsands of years on many different places, so that’s why.“ You said and got up to your laptop to find some pictures of a certain places. They all came closer.

„Well, this is Rome, in Italy. Then, we have Paris, in France, now some Scandinavian countries. This is Stockholm, Sweden. Then, there is London, Great Britain. Now, this is Los Angeles and New York, that’s both in United States. This is in Japan and this is in Australia.“ You showed them well-known places all over the world and especially Europe, since you assumed it was the closest to Middle-Earth style of living.

After a while, you’ve decided to make some dinner. It wasn’t too much left, and you knew you’d have to go shopping soon, but you didn’t wanted to stress yourself about leaving some fictional characters alone in your house for an hour. No. You prepared a recipe and ingredients and started making dough and left them in living room with another pile of books. They especially loved classics, because they had similar language to what they were using, but they liked even more modern books. You didn’t even counted the time you were thanking yourself for collecting books and being a bookworm. And being a „public library“, as you and your friend would say.

Meanwhile, Kili looked up from his book to Fili, whom was reading one book series and seemed to like it, but now his brows was furrowed as if trying to solve some problem that came up. He quietly closed it and noticed you weren’t here with them, so he‘ve decided to find you and maybe talk with you about the book he was currently reading.

The first place, where he’ve decided to take a look to, was kitchen. He stood in the doorway, more to the side so you wouldn’t noticed him right away, but you seemed to be deeply in thought and mentally far away.

You were making a dough, with your hair up in a messy bun, your apron had quite a lot of flour on it, some flour ended up on your face and especially on your cheeks and up to elbows your hands were covered in it, even in your hair was a flour, but you didn’t seemed to mind it here. Next to you, there was a bowl of some cutted vegetables and a smaller bowl of cheese and a few eggs, some spices and herbs.

He didn’t noticed when you‘ve looked up as his memory flew back to his mother back in their old home in Middle-Earth in the kitchen cooking and his and Fili’s failed attempts they called cooking. They were much better at cooking from mud and twiggs than from real food. He imagined his mother and you in that kitchen and that you’d both tell him to get out from the kitchen and he’d sneak in afterwards to steal some piece of pie or cookies or sweet pasteries to prepare for you and him a picnic under the stars...

„Are you going to stand here and stare at me while I’m cooking?“ You placed your hands on your hips and a smile was dancing across your face. Kili’s head snapped and his cheeks blushed.

„I, uh, I wanted to talk with you about this book, I think it’s a good one.“ You came back to your dough and started working on it, again.

„Well, what books is it?“ You looked at the book he was holding.

"Oh, so The Picture of Dorian Gray. How do you like it so far?“ Kili looked at the book in his hands as if it could answer instead of him. He didn’t wanted to embarrass himself in front of you.

„Well, I...uh...it’s-it’s interesting and-“ You softly chuckled and his head snapped up.

„You can sit by the table rather than to stand in the doorway, Kee. Or you can help me out.“ You clapped your hands and big cloud of flour appeared in the air. A cheeky grin found a way to his face.

„Oh, so you would risk cooking with me, miss Y/N?“ You grinned back at him.

„Well, maybe. And still, you can sit down and talk about the book, I’ll listen to you.“ You said and a soft chuckle escaped your lips when you’ve seen how eager he was to sit near you, somebody whom was ready to listen to him.

„Tell me what you honestly think of that book, Kili. I won’t get offended or anything.“ You smiled at him and you’ve seen his eyes to shine as he spoke and when you were talking about all the characters and the storyline from different points of view, but that didn’t lasted long, because...food.

„What are you cooking?“ Kili asked curiously as he’ve checked the dough you were doing, the vegetables, spices and herbs.

„I’m baking a pie with vegetables and cheese, Kee.“ He scrunched his face and furrowed eyebrows.

„Why would you bake it with vegetables? Pies are sweet, aren’t they?“ He looked up at you with his questioning soft brown eyes and you’ve melted once again. You sighed and started explaining.

„Well, they are, but this type of pie is made with vegetables and cheese and eggs. It tastes good, I promise. It’s something like a pizza, but...well, it’s just a bit different, but good too!“ You said and he nodded, remembering that you baked a pizza a few days ago. Then he was standing next to you, looking sleepishly down at it.

„Put your hair out of the way, Kili, or they will end up in it. And that would not be good.“ You said, pulled out a hair-tie from the pocket of your apron, and created a messy bun out of his hair. You’ve realized that touching someone’s hair is (well, at least in the movies and books) intimate for dwarves, so you felt your face to heat up in embarrassement. You realized that it was probably true when Kili was suddenly stiff and his ears became red.

„Oh, I didn’t realized, I’m sorry-“ He cutted you off.

„It’s okay,“ You noticed he was sleepishly looking at you, but there was a twinkle in his eyes telling you he was not mad at you. (As if he could be possibly actually mad at somebody, you thought.) You shyly looked away.

„I, uh, wanna help me out?“ You looked down at floor, suddenly too embarrassed to look at him, so you didn’t noticed how his eyes widened in surprise.

„Y-you would let me to cook?!“ His voice came out as high-pitched and you glanced at him. His eyes were set on you, he was clearly surprised and excited.

„I will keep an eye on you, but yes, at some point I will.“ You said a bit hesitantely. He looked a bit concerned, but excitement overtook him. You handed him an apron. Yours was dark blue with little stars on it, this one was creamy with brown fabric around the edges. You helped him to put it on and stepped a bit away, hands on your hips and slightely narrowed eyes.

„Yeah, that’s good. But we need to do something with your bangs,“ You said and pulled out a few hair clips and bobby pins in more sizes from pocket of your apron. You went through them and then slightely nodded, chose a few of them and the rest gave back. You looked up to Kili.

„This will help to hold all of your hair out of your face,“ you said and he took them and suspiciously glanced at them. You sighed and rolled playfully your eyes. You took one of your pocket, took a strand of hair that escaped to your bun and inhaled.

„That’s how to do it. It’s not like it will bite you.“ You said, clasped the strand to it’s place, placing your hands on your hips and rising your eyebrow. He grinned and winked at you.

„Okay, let’s get the pie done!“ You quickly said, trying to cover your rising blush.

You broke the eggs into the bowl with vegetables and let Kili to put the herbs into it, but you added spices and heavy cream into it.

„Now, mix it-carefully, so it won’t end up on the floor and stay in the bowl-and then carefully pour it onto the dough,“ you motioned to the prepared dough on pie dish. Kili, when he calmed down (which almost didn’t happened, he seemed to be excited somebody trusted him enough to let him to kitchen to do something else than just eat, drink or sneak in for food), was a quick learner. You placed the pie to oven and let it to bake. You leaned against the counter and with a huff you wiped off your forehead.

„I think it’s time to get cleaned up,“ you sighed, your eyes falling shut. Kili nodded, but it seemed something on your face cought his attention. He came closer, he was close enough for you to see his soft gaze filled with concern and his brows slightely scrunched, him being concentrated.

„You have...a bit of flour left here...“ he said and his thumb runned across your cheek. You slighely flinched on that sudden contact. Your eyes met his and you’ve seen in his gaze he was thinking about something. His touch was sending shivers down your spine. You slightely opened your mouth, but closed it again, not wanting to ruin the moment. His eyes had a sparks in them, but he looked more nervous than cheeky and confident this time.

You couldn’t help but looked quickly on his lips and back to his eyes. It was only you two now, as if the whole world disappeared. You were holding your breath, nervous what was about to happen.

„I-,“ Kili whispered and you felt his breath on your lips. He was looking deep into your e/c eyes, thinking about how beautiful they were and how close he was. He could kiss you, your lips were just a few inches away, and he’d lie if he said he have never, at least once thought about how it would felt like to kiss you, at least once, since he met you.

„Kili, where are you?!“ You both flinched, quickly parted and looked away. You’ve heard Kili groaning as his older brother appeared in the doorway.

„You need to read this series Kee-wait-“ he slightely frowned, looking at his brother more properly.

„You were...cooking?“ You nervously smiled.

„Uhm, yeah, I was making a dinner and, uhm, Kili was helping me out,“ You said.

„Kili, you can go clean up, I will clean here a bit,“ You didn’t gave him a place for an answer when you pushed him to go to Fili. When a door fell after them, you sat down on the floor and thought about that moment you almost kissed. And then Fili came in, you thought and groaned. He was definetely keeping an eye on his brother.

[rsadelle]

The best books I read in 2020

I read 167 books in 2020, which is a little more than one and a half times as many as I read in 2019. (I had a crisis of counting at one point when I read a string of novellas, but ultimately came down on the side of if I can check out the ebook from the library as a single volume, then it counts as a book for the purposes of my list.) Only ten of those are books I reread, which is a fairly low reread number/percentage for me. The large number of books I read this year made it extra difficult to narrow down a small number of the best ones, which is why this list is longer than in previous years. It is, in fact, long enough that I have put it behind a cut to spare your dash.

Top 11 fiction books/series I read for the first time in 2020

Bread Alone trilogy (Bread Alone, The Baker's Apprentice, and Baker's Blues) by Judith Ryan Hendricks - I so enjoyed this trilogy about bread baking and figuring out your life and building a home/community and love. I read it at the beginning of the pandemic, when everyone was baking bread, and it was one of those things I was sad to finish because I didn't want to leave the characters.

Never Have I Ever by Joshilyn Jackson - I have read a lot of suburban housewife with a secret books over the last couple of years. This was an excellent example of the genre with the good use of a thematic motif and a second secret reveal after you learn what you think is the biggest secret. Content notes: I had to skim a few chapters because of the large amount of weight and disordered eating content (which is relevant to the character), and there is sexual abuse of a young teenager by an adult as part of the story.

The City We Became by N.K. Jemisin - This was such an interesting concept and done so well. It was one of the most popular books my sci fi book club read this year, and the New Yorker in our group said it was her favorite New York book ever. The most disappointing part of this book is that it's the first book in a trilogy and the other books haven't been published yet. Content notes: eldritch horror and realistic racism.

The Sci-Regency Series (My Fair Captain, The Englor Affair, My Regelence Rake, Diplomatic Relations, and My Highland Laird) by J.L. Langley - The delightfully ludicrous premise of this series is that there is a gay Regency society in space, which makes for some really fun romances. I've loved this series for over a decade, and I was thrilled to reread the first three books before reading the two new books that came out this summer. I recommend reading the novels in order, as there is an overarching plot involving the Intergalactic Navy that is interesting and ongoing without overshadowing the romances. Content note: these are on the erotica end of the romance spectrum, which means they have very explicit sex scenes. I wrote a lot more about this series in a Yuletide promo post comment.

The Most Fun We Ever Had by Claire Lombardo - I was so sad to finish this book! I have read a lot of commercial/literary fiction about families in the past few years, and this might be my favorite. I found the characters really compelling and enjoyed seeing their differing perspectives. I didn't want to leave this family.

Throne of Glass series (Throne of Glass, Crown of Midnight, Heir of Fire, Queen of Shadows, Empire of Storms, Tower of Dawn, and Kingdom of Ash) by Sarah J. Maas - This YA fantasy series shouldn't work given its constant escalation, and yet, somehow it does. I greatly enjoyed it, and I cried more than once at the last book. This is a series where I recommend not reading anything about future books until you've read all the books before them so you can enjoy the continual reveals. These are very much genre novels, and if you don't like the genre, these books will not be for you. Content note: there is a lot of genre-typical violence.

The Great Believers by Rebecca Makkai - I admit that I was mildly skeptical about this book given that what I knew about it was that it was a story about the AIDS epidemic where one of the two timelines is about a woman trying to reconnect with her daughter, but I ended up loving it. The two alternating timelines fit together beautifully, and I thought it did a good job of not eliding the horror of the AIDS epidemic experienced by the gay community in favor of the straight woman's experience. I do remain skeptical of how many awards it won; while it was a genuinely excellent book, I also know that awards bodies love dead queer people.

We Set the Dark on Fire and We Unleash the Merciless Storm by Tehlor Kay Mejia - I loved this YA dystopianish (more cultural class divide than apocalypse or singular villain in control) duology about queer women falling in love while working toward revolution. The world building was good, the plot was good, and the romance was good.

Sisters of the Vast Black by Lina Rather - This novella about an order of nuns who travel through space in an organic slug-like spaceship was absolutely wonderful. It deals with issues of faith, purpose, central control, and doing what you can to make the world a better place.

Sorcery of Thorns by Margaret Rogerson - I loved this YA novel in a sort of Regency-ish setting about a girl who grew up in a library full of magic books and her dealings with some sorcerers, complete with a romance. Content note: attempted mental coercion and institutionalization.

The Wren Hunt and The Wickerlight by Mary Watson - This is a YA duology about rival druid groups in modern day Ireland. I found both books totally compelling with interesting druid politics and magic. It was also really interesting how well we get to see the worst of both sides of the rival druid groups in the two different books.

Top 5 books/series I read and then thought about a lot in 2020

The Twisted Ones by T. Kingfisher - A friend recommended the author to me. This particularly book is a supernatural horror novel I don't necessarily recommend. However, I have continued to think about elements of it since I read it. (Before you @ me about the author's other work, this was the third of her books I read and the other two were in the more beloved fantasy novel genre.)

The Calculating Stars by Mary Robinette Kowal - I actually didn't like this book that much. We read it for a book club, and it had an interesting concept that wasn't super well executed. However, I have thought about elements of it a lot since then, particularly in comparison to some of the other sci fi I encountered this year.

Gideon the Ninth and Harrow the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir - I don't know how much "I actively thought about these a lot" describes my actual experience of having read these, but given their popularity and the number of conversations I had about them, I can't omit them from this post entirely. I liked the first one once I figured out what kind of story it actually was, had absolutely no idea what was happening at any point in the second one, and discovered with both of them that I have a much more limited vocabulary than I thought, at least when it comes to death-related words. I am invested enough that I will read the third book when it comes out, but probably won't read any more of the author's work beyond that. If you want to know more about what I thought, I wrote a very spoilery post about them.

The Sixth World (Trail of Lightning and Storm of Locusts) by Rebecca Roanhorse - This is a pair of novels set in a post-apocalyptic world where there's a magically/divinely-erected wall around Dinétah (the Navajo lands). The worldbuilding and characters are so interesting, and it's a series where some of the details stuck with me and I would randomly think of them. I'm looking forward to reading one of her other books in a few months for my sci fi book club.

Wild Mercy: Living the Fierce and Tender Wisdom of the Women Mystics by Mirabai Starr - This was one of two books about women mystics I read and disliked this year, and the more disappointing of the two as I'd heard an interview with the author that I found interesting. I continued to think about this one a lot in an angry, "and another thing!" way, which did help me articulate more of the things I dislike about new age-ish framing of "feminine" wisdom/divinity/knowledge.

Top 3 non-fiction books I read in 2020

The Vagina Bible: The vulva and the vagina - separating the myth from the medicine by Dr. Jen Gunter - This is probably better as a reference work than as a straight read-through, but it was interesting enough to read straight through. The book is deeply rooted in science and facts, and she has a whole chapter on "Vaginas and Vulvas in Transition" specifically about anatomy for trans people.

Here All Along: Finding Meaning, Spirituality, and a Deeper Connection to Life - in Judaism (After Finally Choosing to Look There) by Sarah Hurwitz - This is a useful, contemporary introduction to Judaism from someone who shares a lot of my values. The first half is an introduction to Jewish thought, while the second half focuses more on spirituality and practice. The book is part general introduction and part spiritual memoir. I found it deeply inspirational and I added it to a wish list of books I want to own copies of (I read it as a library ebook) because I would like to both reread it in hardcopy where I can easily flip back and forth and use it as a resource for further study and reading.

You Can Draw in 30 Days by Mark Kistler - You may remember that I wrote more about this when I originally finished reading the book. I found it a gentle, funny, helpful book to teach you the basics of drawing.

The 2 authors I read the most in 2020

Jennifer Lynne Barnes - I read fifteen of her books in three weeks in January, when I was still working full time, and a sixteenth after it was published later in the year. Her books are fast-read YA novels that are deeply engaging and generally have some sort of mystery element to them which may or may not involve family secrets. She has a tendency to write variations of the same characters, which meant that I enjoyed mentally mapping the characters from various books onto characters from other books. Also, her werewolf trilogy does one of my favorite werewolf story things that you almost never see (but it doesn't happen until the end of the first book, so I won't spoil it by telling you what it is). Many of her books involve violence, so heed the summaries or email/message me if you want some content notes.

Laura Lippman - I read nineteen of her books this year, eighteen novels and a non-fiction essay collection. She's an excellent mystery writer with a distinctive voice. The time I read four of her books in four days, I found myself thinking in her style. Even if I hadn't otherwise enjoyed My Life As A Villainess, her essay collection, it would have been worth reading just for the kicker on "The Thirty-First Stocking." Content note: her novels frequently involve violence or its aftermath.

[flamebearrel]

Split Number One

Fandom: Super Smash Bros

Synopsis: It was simple, really. Three formidable fighters, or at least two and a kid trying his best, but only one could be saved. As experienced, top-notch heroes, Mario and Kirby should have seen it all before. They could have easily made the right choice. Yet they didn't. And it doesn't seem the winner understands.

Word Count: 1607

Original Post Date: March 6, 2019

Characters: Villager, Mario, Kirby (Minor Master Hand, Sheik, Marth, Galeem)

Ships: None

Trigger Warnings: None

Other Notes: I see Villager as a kid (like twelve years old); Kirby can talk with a simple vocabulary; the Trophy rules kind of align with Subspace

Ao3 Link

~~~

Victory!

The R.O.B. clone fell to the floor before melting into a puddle of gold. As the substance slowly evaporated, they watched the Spirit inside rise from it. Mario gave a little smile. The Spirit floated for a moment, seeming to give a nod of appreciation, before flying away from the path and into safety.

“...I’m pretty sure that Guardian Spirit isn’t something we should just let go around,” Mario thought aloud, picking up the tiny puffball by his feet. Kirby blinked in response.

“Is that okay?”

“Eh, probably not, but don’t worry. There’s bigger things to think about.” The plumber put a hand on his friend’s head. “Let’s-a keep going, little guy.”

There were trophies on three sides of the courtyard, standing silently. The once-shimmering blue hair of the Hero King on the left had dulled. They looked up ahead, where Sheik towered menacingly, eyes void of any emotion. To the right stood the shortest of the three, Villager, with the smile he usually wore to battle wiped off his face.

Glancing between them, Mario felt something stir inside of him. Dismay, perhaps? All these fighters, individually trapped in eternal stasis, while he was up and running. With that train of thought, choosing who to save first felt like playing favorites.

So he’d leave that to his partner. The man with the red cap lowered Kirby to the floor again, asking, “Who do you want to help first?”

The puffball paused for a moment before running up to Villager. “Him!”

“Sounds good to me,” Mario said with a nod. Reaching down, counting in his head, the plumber tapped the base of the trophy and waited for the fight to begin.

~

It wasn’t that difficult with the both of them there. As Mario landed the final Super Jump Punch and sent Villager through the blast zone, the ropes of light circling his body tore to pieces. The mayor fell to the ground, battered, unconscious.

Slowly, he opened his eyes.

“Kirby,” Villager muttered, “Mario… what are you… ow, everything hurts…”

Immediately Kirby ran to him, ducking under the weakened fighter’s arm. “It’s okay.” He pushed, trying to help Villager up. “You’re okay now.”

“Huh…?”

As he got to his feet, the third member took in his surroundings. “Where are we…? How did we get here? I can only remember the light.”

Mario nodded. “That’s what we’ve-a been calling this place, the ‘World of Light’! Though I wish it was as pleasant as it sounded. We should… probably find a better name-”

“I’d say.” Holding Kirby’s stubby hand in his own, Villager stepped towards the center of the courtyard. “With all this ‘light, light, light’, I’m surprised we all aren’t blind by n-…”

There was nothing to do but trail off as the mayor rested his eyes on the other two trophies. He didn’t respond. For a moment, all that was there was the weight of the situation finding a seat in an audience of shoulders.

Then the plumber cleared his throat.

“Oh, uh…” Snapping back to the present, Villager turned to them again. “Sorry, I… we should probably help them out now, huh?”

“Just what I was thinking.”

With that, Kirby sauntered to Sheik. “Here, then! If we keep going, we can save everyone!” He reached out to tap the base of the ninja’s trophy. “So let’s-”

Flash.

The three of them jolted, grouping together at the center of the courtyard in sight of the giant hand that was suddenly there. It was a Master Hand clone, again, looming above.

“Stay behind me,” Mario growled. A fireball flickered into the palm of his hand and he took a step toward the clone-

But the right hand didn’t want to fight. He simply snapped his fingers, and bam, something was there. They could do nothing but watch in dismay as glowing energy shields formed around Sheik and Marth. And then the clone was gone, and Mario extinguished his fireball and everything was cold.

What could anyone say?

Mario ventured, “Well. This might be a bit harder than we thought.”

Then, all of a sudden, Villager was sprinting toward the shield, shrieking, “No! No, you can’t do that! You can’t!” Without his boxing gloves, he punched at the barrier, drawing back when it burned his hand. Then he put them on and tried again. It didn’t work either. “That’s not fair,” he screeched. He planted a tree, grew it to full height, then sent it toppling. The barrier left it in splinters. A bowling ball, a Lloid Rocket, everything was dropped on it, and nothing, nothing, nothing worked.

The other two watched a while, speechless.

When he couldn’t take it anymore, Kirby rushed to the mayor’s side, pulling him back by his shirt. “Villager, stop, please! It’s not gonna do anything…”

“But I…” For a moment he resisted, but, slowly, he let the fireworks in his hands drop to the floor. He shook his head. The sparks fizzled away in the dust.

“…Are you okay?”

Quiet again. Stepping forward, ready to offer support, Mario opened his mouth- Yet no sound was allowed to escape him, because just then, Villager turned.

“Why did you do it?”

The man in overalls spluttered, “Wh-what?”

“Take a look around!” Villager gestured wildly at the shields, then at the rest of the world. “Everyone is dead, Mario! Just dead, completely dead, unless some hero can go out and save everyone. Do you know how impossible that is?”

“I know it sounds impossible, but I’m-a sure we can-”

“No, you don’t get it! Even if we did manage to save someone, Galeem would just mess it up again. Regular people can’t fix this!”

Reaching a gloved hand towards the younger fighter, Mario protested, “But we’re not regular people-! We wouldn’t be here if we were…”

“You’re not regular people,” hissed Villager, “but riddle me this! You have three choices: A warrior prince, a ninja, or some kid who panics as soon as the lights turn on. And you choose the kid? WHY?! What can I do that they can’t?” He scoffed. “I’m not a hero. I can’t save the world. I can barely even do my own job! So what do you want? Tell me! Do you want the extra burden, or just someone to pick on? Am I- am I comic relief?! Just- Just-! WHY DID YOU CHOOSE ME?!”

At that, his voice cracked.

Out of arguments, eyes glistening, the mayor simply repeated, “Why did you choose me…?” Then he slid down to the ground, in silence.

“…”

Mario stepped up to the younger fighter and took a seat next to him. He hesitated no longer that a moment. “Please, don’t-a go thinking that way. I stand by what I said, ya know? None of us are here without a reason. Like…” The man in overalls tapped his chin. “You’ve got confidence when you fight. It’s there in your smile, I see it. And- and you’re reasonable, something this team probably needs.”

“That’s a lie. Sheik and Marth wouldn’t yell at you as soon as they woke up.”

“This is your first apocalyptic disaster, paisano. If you haven’t seen ‘em in action, I wouldn’t be so sure!”

Villager pulled his knees close, staring at a crack in the stone floor. “Then I’ll never be sure, I guess.”

The plumber sighed. “Listen to me. We’re gonna save them; I can promise that. It might take a while, but we’re not stopping until everyone is here and everyone is safe. So what if you’re new to this? That-a doesn’t make you any less of a family member. You’re as much a part of this team as us, Villager. And we need your help just like you need ours.”

“We can all help each other,” Kirby chimed. A second passed without dispute before he pattered up and gave the mayor a hug.

Mario wrapped an arm around him too. Defeated, the kid leaned against the plumber’s chest, and the three simply sat. For a few seconds they were a single bundle of consciousness in a sleeping world.

“Okay,” Villager finally said. He straightened up. “Maybe, just maybe… You have a chance of being right. We should get back on the road.”

As the puffball next to them clapped his hands in satisfaction, Mario grinned. “There we go! It’s a good thing you finally came around- we can’t have the guy who holds the supplies be too upset to let us use ‘em!”

“Ha-ha, very funny.” He totally wasn’t smiling anyway.

The trio staggered to their feet and took their first steps down the rock path, Kirby leading the way. As he went to follow, Mario chanced one last look at the trophies behind him. The energy shields stared back, unyielding, undaunted, unbreakable.

Something about it shot dread through his veins. Galeem was toying with them. What else did he want? What else would he do?

Clearing these thoughts with a shake of his head, the red-capped man took off after the others. There wasn’t time to think about it. They just had to keep going. Going, going… Otherwise they’d never be able to save everyone.

It didn’t matter if there were more forked paths. It didn’t matter what Galeem was going to do. They’d fix it all, somehow. It couldn’t be impossible, because at the very least…

A Spirit whisked past then and there, nearly toppling them. Kirby looked at the other two, and when they nodded, he reached up to catch it like he would any other falling star. Another fight. Mario counted down…

Three, two, one.

Go.

At least they had conquered split number one.

[frenchly-anxious]

Expert readers, bilingualism and inhibition: somes thoughts on my own writing with the help of my studies

I’ve started writing a fanfic in English (wooo, cheers to me!) and as someone who is studying language, neurology, bilingualism and some other things, I’m fascinated by what I’m doing.

I’m currently writing random words in place of the ones I’m actually thinking about.

Why, though? I think first because I type fast and when you do, your brain sometimes goes toward reflex: typing the word which is almost written the same, but that you use more often than the one you actually want.

But also, and that’s my own interpretation (you’ve been warned), because of some neat things I learned recently in class.

Did you know bilingual (or multilingual) people have better executive functions?

That’s because when you know more than one language, you have to get better at inhibiting one language when you’re speaking the other.

The studies where this is proven showed that knowing more than one language is not a bad thing. For a very long time, we thought it was slowing children down when learning language in general. It absolutely isn’t. They’re not late per se.

Of course, if you count the number of words they know at a given age, there’s a high chance they’ll know less than a monolingual child. But because you’re only taking one language in consideration. If you ask those children to answer in any language, you’ll see the numbers of words they know is more or less the same; except, it’s shared between the different languages they knows. It’s not rare to see children considered “late” by traditional tests who are actually developping quite well. Let’s say they’ve been able to name 5 of the 10 objects shown to them. An average child should have been able to say at least 8. But if we ask our bilingual kid, there’s a chance he can say his 5 objects in both language, or 5 in one language and 3 in the other, maybe a mix of both...

And those executive functions? Even if they’re better, it’s actually easier to not inhibit any language. It requires less effort.

Which brings me back to my situation. I’m not bilingual to the definition widely recognized. I’ve started learning English later on in my life. It depends on who you consider being right, but some says being bilingual is not just people growing up since birth with 2 languages. Titone (1972) said being bilingual means being able to speak another language while following its rules of structures and concepts, and not paraphrasing the native language.

Anyway, I’m at a point in my progression in English where I confuse words, expressions and pretty much anything depending on the day, between both language. (No, ‘convénient’ doesn’t exist in French, you’re thinking of the English word ‘convenient’.) To the point that, now, when I’m taking notes in class, they switch back and worth between French and English with no real logic. Because it’s easier to go along my train of thought than trying to stop it and go back to the other language. I’m mostly writing in French (because I’m waaaay better in term of grammar and vocabulary in that language); but sometimes, there are words that are faster to come to my mind in English. And, you know, so be it.

But what does this have anything to do with me writing fanfic and using random wrong words ?

Well, first because I think my executive functions are a bit at lost because it’s hard to inhibit when I’m typing that fast, plus completely focused on a story and what I’m trying to express, rather than being terrified of using the wrong word or a bad spelling, like I usually am when posting on Tumblr or writing to someone.

But also, hang on, we’re now going deep into linguistic and neurological studies!

Coltheart (1977) studied how expert readers... read. Yeah, I know, but bear with me. By ‘expert’, he means ‘good enough/not currently learning’, by opposition of ‘learning readers’.

He has an interesting theory of “orthographic neighbours”, words that have one letter of difference. Hit => Him Hip or Hat Hot or even Bit Lit Sit, ... As you can see, ‘hit’ has a lot of possibilities. Certainly less than ‘win’, or even ‘neighbour’.

I even just saw that the concept of orthographic neighbours has been widen in 2009, with things like ‘trial’ / ‘trail’, or ‘end’ / ‘send’ / ‘spend’.

Also in case of bilingualism, orthographic neighbours can come from both language: ‘rire’ in French (to laugh) with ‘fire’ / ‘hire’ / ...

So if we consider words like ‘hit’, ‘win’ and ‘neighbour’, we are actually quicker at recognizing words like ‘win’ and ‘neighbour’. Why? Because our brain is a funny thing. When reading a word, he also activates the representation of those “orthographic neighbours”. (it applies only to expert readers, because learning reader will tend to decipher each letters slowly, where an expert will see the word on a global way because he has experience. And because an expert relies more on his lexical route than his phonological one. But that’s another topic I could gladly talk about if you want to)

And by activating those other words, we create what Coltheart call a “lexical competition”; it means we then need to inhibit those “orthographic neighbours”, those useless words we have activated, so there can only be one left. So let’s say that ‘neighbour’ doesn’t have any, and ‘hit’ has at least 7 of them; it’s easy to see which one will be the longer to deal with. Even if we are counting in milliseconds.

Plus, ‘hit’ might be more frequent in English than, let’s say ‘lit’. Then it’s quicker to read ‘hit’ than ‘lit’, because your brain knows it’s more frequent to read ‘hit’, so when he’s in front of ‘lit’, he’s like “Fuck, that’s not what I was expecting, according to my statistics”. Those “statistics” come from all the reading you’ve done since you have learned how to and how frequent each word was.

Yes, your brain is an expert on statistics without trying. What an asshole.

All of this makes me think that my own sense of what’s frequent in English is largely fucked up by the fact I’m not a native, so some words seems to appear quicker than other while I’m writing this fanfic, depending on my sorta selected view on English. (I mean, I’m way more confronted to very specific topics, like for example series, gaming, gay sex and internet slang, because yeah, I spend time on the internet and that’s what is prominent. Which lead me to moments like this one where fuck and dick are quicker to my mind than duck. Thanks internet)

I wrote at some point “They can’t up” when I was thinking of “They get up”. And when I’m looking at what I had written in this fanfic, I think I have used more often the word “can’t” than “get”. And I know, they’re definitely not orthographic neighbours. Which is why I talked first about the motor reflexes you brain uses when typing fast. But I feel like there’s something about frequence here. And something about phonology I can’t quite pinpoint.

And also because I wanted to talk about those interesting studies while I have a lot of time on my hands.

Anyway, if you want to remember something from that long rambling: -bilingualism is not a bad thing at all; -depending on who you listen to for a definition, you might already be bilingual; -your brain is amazing at frequencies through statistics.

[vampireloreskill]

Get To Know Me 

tagged by @fourfinefreshfishforyou a billion years ago, thank you so much!! i actually Did have fun filling this out even if it took me forever 

 anyone who still wants to do this can say i tagged them!

1. WHAT IS YOUR FULL NAME? Who wrote this? A fed??

2. WHAT IS YOUR NICKNAME? Kris

3. BIRTHDAY? This year

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE BOOK SERIES? Would you believe me if I said Warriors

5. DO YOU BELIEVE IN ALIENS OR GHOSTS? Ghosts no, aliens sort of... I’m not sure I buy into whole other civilizations but I find it hard to believe that there isn’t some kind of life outside of our planet even if it’s just bacteria 

6. WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE AUTHOR? Rick Riordan is pretty cool

7. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE RADIO STATION? Christmas

8. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FLAVOR OF ANYTHING? Strawberry or peach 

9. WHAT WORD WOULD YOU USE OFTEN TO DESCRIBE SOMETHING GREAT OR WONDERFUL? Amazing

10. WHAT IS YOUR CURRENT FAVORITE SONG?  Your Type - Carly Rae Jepson

11. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE WORD? I’m a big fan of defenestration

12. WHAT WAS THE LAST SONG YOU LISTENED TO?  Your Type - Carly Rae Jepson

13. WHAT TV SHOW WOULD YOU RECOMMEND FOR EVERYBODY TO WATCH? I don’t like to blanket recommend shows because everyone has such different tastes

14. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE MOVIE TO WATCH WHEN YOU’RE FEELING DOWN? Tbh I just mope around until I either feel better or give up and go to sleep

15. DO YOU PLAY VIDEO GAMES? This is an Assassin’s Creed and Sims zone ONLY

16. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST FEAR? Strangers on the internet knowing my second biggest fear

17. WHAT IS YOUR BEST QUALITY, IN YOUR OPINION? Objectively it’s probably my ability to see things from other people’s perspective but TBH I much prefer my sense of humor and ability to laugh at my own jokes whether or not anyone else finds them funny 

18. WHAT IS YOUR WORST QUALITY, IN YOUR OPINION? My inability to self moderate

19. DO YOU LIKE CATS OR DOGS BETTER? I want to say neither,, but I may be leaning towards dogs in recent years :/

20. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SEASON? Winter, but lately Autumn has been sneaking up on it

21. ARE YOU IN A RELATIONSHIP? Nah

22. WHAT IS SOMETHING YOU MISS FROM YOUR CHILDHOOD? Being small... I loved hiding in tiny spaces and being picked up

23. WHO IS YOUR BEST FRIEND? *cowboy voice* Now there’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time...

24. WHAT IS YOUR EYE COLOR? Dark brown

25. WHAT IS YOUR HAIR COLOR? At this point it’s basically black but I still like to say dark brown

26. WHO IS SOMEONE YOU LOVE? God, my family, probably a lot of people idk I catch feelings easily

27. WHO IS SOMEONE YOU TRUST? Literally no one but God 

28. WHO IS SOMEONE YOU THINK ABOUT OFTEN? A lot of seemingly random celebrities, if you count constantly reciting names in specific patterns as thinking 

29. ARE YOU CURRENTLY EXCITED ABOUT/FOR SOMETHING? Yes, lots of things! 

30. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST OBSESSION? lmao

31. WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE TV SHOW AS A CHILD? REDWALLLLL

32. WHO OF THE OPPOSITE GENDER CAN YOU TELL ANYTHING TO, IF ANYONE? I’m not sure what the opposite of shrug emoji is but the answer is still no one

33. ARE YOU SUPERSTITIOUS? I’m not, but someone needs to tell me that

34. DO YOU HAVE ANY UNUSUAL PHOBIAS? I’m not sure I have any phobias? Irrational fears, Sure

35. DO YOU PREFER TO BE IN FRONT OF THE CAMERA OR BEHIND IT? Behind it!

36. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE HOBBY? I REALLY want to get into dollhousing

37. WHAT WAS THE LAST BOOK YOU READ? I know I said Les Misérables in a previous tag meme but I now remember that I actually read the first book in C.S. Lewis’s space trilogy a while back more recently

38. WHAT WAS THE LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED? Spider-man: Into The Spiderverse which was........ AMAZING 

39. WHAT MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS DO YOU PLAY, IF ANY? When I was younger I had a lap harp but that’s about it

40. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ANIMAL? Opossums

41. WHAT ARE YOUR TOP 5 FAVORITE TUMBLR BLOGS THAT YOU FOLLOW? I’m not a fan of naming names in this context sorry!

42. WHAT SUPERPOWER DO YOU WISH YOU HAD? A lot, but I’ve concluded that for any powers gained I would inevitably just end up becoming a super villain and/or batman so hard pass

43. WHEN AND WHERE DO YOU FEEL MOST AT PEACE? When I first wake up, and just lie there trying to hold on to what I was just dreaming about

44. WHAT MAKES YOU SMILE? It’s basically physically impossible for me not to grin like a fool watching Wander Over Yonder

45. WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY, IF ANY? Does Wii Bowling count

46. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE DRINK? Apple cider

47. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WROTE A HAND-WRITTEN LETTER OR NOTE TO SOMEBODY? I don’t know? Probably when I wanted to wake up at a certain time

48. ARE YOU AFRAID OF HEIGHTS? Sometimes? Depends on how possible it is that I could fall

49. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST PET PEEVE? Dry skin currently 

50. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN TO A CONCERT? I was going to say no but I have the distinct feeling that I have even though I didn’t remember absolutely anything about it except maybe the auditorium?

51. ARE YOU VEGAN/VEGETARIAN? No

52. WHEN YOU WERE LITTLE, WHAT DID YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GREW UP? Zookeeper

53. WHAT FICTIONAL WORLD WOULD YOU LIKE TO LIVE IN? Um. Eternia?? ajfghdk 

54. WHAT IS SOMETHING YOU WORRY ABOUT? Not growing as a person

55. ARE YOU SCARED OF THE DARK? Not really, but I do like the ability to turn on lights if I need to

56. DO YOU LIKE TO SING? My vocal cords were made for Christmas carols and little else. But yeah, sometimes.

57. HAVE YOU EVER SKIPPED SCHOOL? I’m not... sure?

58. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PLACE ON THE PLANET? I’ll let you know when I’ve found it

59. WHERE WOULD YOU LIKE TO LIVE? Where I already do

60. DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS? Yes

61. ARE YOU MORE OF AN EARLY BIRD OR A NIGHT OWL? Night owl

62. DO YOU LIKE SUNRISES OR SUNSETS BETTER? Sunsets

63. DO YOU KNOW HOW TO DRIVE? I feel like I could make an educated guess in an emergency

64. DO YOU PREFER EARBUDS OR HEADPHONES? Headphones

65. HAVE YOU EVER HAD BRACES? No

66. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE GENRE OF MUSIC? I feel like it’s probably pop or disco tbh

67. WHO IS YOUR HERO? Jesus 

68. DO YOU READ COMIC BOOKS? Here and there, the only series I’ve actually read all the way through is Cable & Deadpool (2004) but I want to get into Venom

69. WHAT MAKES YOU THE MOST ANGRY? Not to be cliche but injustice of any kind

70. DO YOU PREFER TO READ ON AN ELECTRONIC DEVICE OR WITH A REAL BOOK? Real book, I like turning pages and the way the cover fits into my hands. Can’t say I’m a fan of the smell though.

71. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL? Vocabulary

72. DO YOU HAVE ANY SIBLINGS? Yes

73. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU BOUGHT? Sims 4 packs

74. HOW TALL ARE YOU? 5′2 or so

75. CAN YOU COOK? If it involves anything other than a microwave or a toaster then,,, no

76. WHAT ARE THREE THINGS THAT YOU LOVE? Vampires, villains in love, wood paneling 

77. WHAT ARE THREE THINGS THAT YOU HATE? Intrusive thoughts, Marius Pontmercy, mint flavored toothpaste

78. DO YOU HAVE MORE FEMALE FRIENDS OR MORE MALE FRIENDS? I... Have more female mutuals

79. WHAT IS YOUR SEXUAL ORIENTATION? Bisexual but like it’s Complicated. Also this is the first time I’ve ever actually said that directly so ✌️🎉

80. WHERE DO YOU CURRENTLY LIVE? A fed wrote this

81. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TEXTED? My mom

82. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? Earlier this month

83. WHO IS YOUR FAVORITE YOUTUBER? I don’t really follow any, but I used to be obsessed with the videos of this one guy who acted out crossovers of DC/Marvel characters with action figures and had a really great voice

84. DO YOU LIKE TO TAKE SELFIES? I do! I just never do anything with them once I’ve taken them lol

85. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE APP? I don’t have one right now, but I adore choose your own adventure ones

86. WHAT IS YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH YOUR PARENT(S) LIKE? Pretty good with my adoptive parents. I want to be closer with my birth mom but I don’t... really know how to go about that without being a disappointment. Never met my birth dad which has been eating at me somewhat lately.

87. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FOREIGN ACCENT? Uhh Australian maybe??

88. WHAT IS A PLACE THAT YOU’VE NEVER BEEN TO, BUT YOU WANT TO VISIT? Mexico

89. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE NUMBER? 6

90. CAN YOU JUGGLE? Do you take me for a clown

91. ARE YOU RELIGIOUS? Yes, I’m a nondenominational christian 

92. DO YOU FIND OUTER SPACE OF THE DEEP OCEAN TO BE MORE INTERESTING? The ocean, it’s teeming with life and I find it bafflingly fascinating how there’s still so much we don’t know about it

93. DO YOU CONSIDER YOURSELF TO BE A DAREDEVIL? Absolutely not

94. ARE YOU ALLERGIC TO ANYTHING? Almost every single time we go shopping in Sam’s Club I get inexplicably feverish and nauseous and feel like I’ve thrown out my back until we get to the check out. That and I may have a dairy allergy? But honestly my stomach is acting out every other day so who knows really.  

95. CAN YOU CURL YOUR TONGUE? Ye

96. CAN YOU WIGGLE YOUR EARS? No

97. HOW OFTEN DO YOU ADMIT THAT YOU WERE WRONG ABOUT SOMETHING? Not as often as I should

98. DO YOU PREFER THE FOREST OR THE BEACH? Aesthetically, the beach, but forests are less sandy

99. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PIECE OF ADVICE THAT ANYONE HAS EVER GIVEN YOU? Pat, don’t rub (When drying your hands)

100. ARE YOU A GOOD LIAR?  mmMM I don’t really lie, like, seriously about stuff that I can recall? I’ll jokingly say stuff that blatantly isn’t true and even then I sometimes feel guilty and confess seconds later. Unless you count lying by omission? Or saying stuff like “I’m fine” LMAO. The World May Never Know

101. WHAT IS YOUR HOGWARTS HOUSE? We Don’t Discuss Harry Potter On This Blog, but ravenclaw all the way and any test that tries to sort me into hufflepuff isn’t Valid 

102. DO YOU TALK TO YOURSELF? Generally just when I’m alone

103. ARE YOU AN INTROVERT OR AN EXTROVERT? Introvert

104. DO YOU KEEP A JOURNAL/DIARY? I’ve tried, but I just don’t have the attention span for it asdfgh. Sometimes I write down my dreams though.

105. DO YOU BELIEVE IN SECOND CHANCES? Yes

106. IF YOU FOUND A WALLET FULL OF MONEY ON THE GROUND, WHAT WOULD YOU DO? Convince someone else to pick it up and check for ID

107. DO YOU BELIEVE THAT PEOPLE ARE CAPABLE OF CHANGE? Yes

108. ARE YOU TICKLISH? That’s a personal question

109. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN ON A PLANE? Yes

110. DO YOU HAVE ANY PIERCINGS? No

111. WHAT FICTIONAL CHARACTER DO YOU WISH WAS REAL? Count Dracula from Monster Family (2017) ok so,,, i know he tried to freeze the entire world because a married woman rejected him but LISTEN

112. DO YOU HAVE ANY TATTOOS? No

113. WHAT IS THE BEST DECISION THAT YOU’VE MADE IN YOUR LIFE SO FAR? Following Jesus

114. DO YOU BELIEVE IN KARMA? Mm, not karma per say, but I do generally think that what goes around often comes around in way or another

115. DO YOU WEAR GLASSES OR CONTACTS? No

116. DO YOU WANT CHILDREN? NO

117. WHO IS THE SMARTEST PERSON YOU KNOW? Idk! there a lot different types of smart people

118. WHAT IS YOUR MOST EMBARRASSING MEMORY? Nice try, but someone might actually read this

119. HAVE YOU EVER PULLED AN ALL-NIGHTER? I’m basically nocturnal so... yeah

120. WHAT COLOR ARE MOST OF YOUR CLOTHES? Various jewel tones

121. DO YOU LIKE ADVENTURES? Ehhhhhhh

122. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN ON TV? Not that I know of

123. HOW OLD ARE YOU? 21

124. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE QUOTE? I can’t really think of one right now

125. DO YOU PREFER SWEET OR SAVORY FOODS? Whichever I’m in the mood for!

[ravenclaw-has-claws]

On languages

(( OOC: Because of this ask/hate/stupid person wanting to call people out because of stupid things that Tacha got, I decided to write this. First of all because the answers coming from Ace and Jay showed me how clueless you english people are to what your languages does. (I love you and your language, but guys I need to open your eyes). 

I’ve put it under the cut so it doesn’t bother innocent souls who are okay with not knowing about other languages, as amazing as it is.

First of all, loanwords. Loanwords are words taken from other languages. An example of a loanword, as I already said in my answer to Tacha’s thing, is selfie. Do you know how we say the word selfie in spanish? Like that, selfie, if it’s older people talking (those who still know what a selfie is), you might found selfi at most. In french, it’s the same, selfie. Italian? Same. You know why? Wow, loanwords! This is not a new thing, of course, and it doesn’t happen in english only. Let’s see, the word ballet is another very obvious loanword, coming from french. Now, some loanwords are so integrated to our language that they don’t seem taken from other languages. Bayonet, comes from the french baïonnette (feel free to correct me if I’m wrong on the spelling of that, or other words), and in spanish, we say bayoneta. They are all pretty similar, right? Well, that’s because it comes from the name of the city Bayonne, where it was created. Captain also seems to have come from the french word capitain. Other examples of loanwords are basically all the artsy words, that come from italian, as Italy was the cultural centre of the western culture for many many years, let’s see: piano. 

Now, the thing about english being used as a common language between a lot of different countries is that a lot of english words are making their way to our languages. This is not a bad thing, at all, it’s the normal thing and it’s been happening since languages existed. Language purists (yes, those exist) will tell you that allowing english words into our language and using those instead of what would be the equivalent (autofoto instead of selfie, which is ridiculous to thing about) is making the original language worse, that we’re finishing with our own languages by mixing these english words. What is funny is that - at least in spain - these same purists are also the poeple who say our language is very rich because of all the words we have coming from latin, arabic, hebrew, but of course, those happened a long time ago and have now become normal in our language. (An example is the word aceituna which means olive, it comes from arabic ; or ojalá that means somewhat of an i hope or a hopefully, also coming from arabic)

But it’s not only words that languages take. It’s also structures, or even the meaning that a verb can have. I mention this last thing having my own language in mind. Gerunds (in english finishing with -ing and in spanish with -ndo) are used in spanish to express  simultaneity “I saw your brother going to the cinema” (this is an ambiguous sentence, but let’s take it in the sense that when i was going to the cinema, I saw your brother). That structure works both in english and in spanish. The problem comes when english also allows gerunds to be used as consequence: “he fell, breaking his legs”. In english, that makes sense, but following the grammar rules from spanish saying “se cayó, rompiéndose las piernas” wouldn’t be correct. He broke his legs at the same time that he fell? He was breaking his legs while he fell? It just doesn’t make sense. HOWEVER. This is a mistake often made by NATIVE SPANISH SPEAKERS. Because of the influence of english, native speakers now use the gerund to express consequence, even when it’s not part of the spanish grammar.

This is not only happening with english, I have some tea for you too, Tacha, if your even reading this still. You french beans have also made our spanish brains confused with a certain structure. In french, apparently, you use a noun + a + infinitive. Like “problèmes à résoudre”. That has created this same structure in spanish, but technically this is incorrect (again, in spanis). “problemas a tratar” just makes no sense when looking at it from the perspective of what “a” means in spanish. Still, this is a very common mistake in spanish. To the point that people who don’t study this stuff don’t know that it’s a mistake (I surelly didn’t know until this one particular class)

Another hardcore example of the influence that languages have on other languages is if we go out of our western bubble. There are languages that look at quantities from another perspective, having singular and plural, but not having numbers. They count one and more than one, not caring about the exact number. Now, some of these languages have been forced to actually take numbers from other languages and incorporate them to their vocabulary.

And to give this essay that no one asked for a finish, I’m going to tell you guys about something that is not a way of influence between languages, but that will blow your minds, Colors. Because, let’s be real, guys, what are colors? Well, I can certainly not give you an answer to that, but I can tell you that not everyone sees the same colors as we do. Or well, not everyone devides them the way we do. In most of western culture baby blue and navy blue are two shades of the same color, nonetheless pink and red are different colors. The same way, in certain languages blue and green are the same color (when I read about it, said color was defines as grue, gr for green and ue for blue) and to make a difference they called green “grass grue” and blue “sky blue”.

Now, with this, I hope I have broaden your knowledge, keep in mind that I’m still a student, and my own knowledge is still pretty limited. ))

[ktrxs]

6.16.19

Yo Hoe Bo

I am disoriented right now and have been for a few hours. Do you know how long it took me to have a decent sleep schedule? To go to bed before midnight, sleep while the moon is out and actually wake up in the morning?

A long ass time. I’ve been sleeping perfectly and awesomely and well for MONTHS. Literal months. And I have been so happy that I go to bed around 11 and wake up before 10am. It’s been GREAT!

Well, let me tell you how I’m currently fucked. and how a girl named Carrie double fucked me over.

She fucked me so hard that the fucking will have a lasting effect on my sleep schedule. She’s that good, folks.

(also Tumblr., I need that linebreak back.)

------------------- (<-- ugh)

So, last week I schedule two showings. One on Sunday at 9am and one on Monday at 1pm.

We also planned to go to Bmore to FINALLY deliver the coffee table to Leah and to start on my art project. 

- Side note: my art project is me visiting every single place I lived, taking a picture and then drawing the inside floor plans of what I can remember.

I also had work and a deadline at 2:42am Sunday morning. Look, I don’t make the deadlines. That’s why it’s early AM and is 2:42. Not 2:40. Not 2:45, but 2:42. ANYWAY....

We also needed time to clean, get sleep to wake up early for the showing AND rescue a cat.

So the schedule was:

SATURDAY

8AM - wake the fuck up

9AM - Drive to Bmore

11AM - Arrive in Bmore, do things

7PM - Leave Bmore

9PM - Arrive home and clean

10PM - Do assignment for me

SUNDAY

12AM - Submit assignment and SLEEP

8AM - wake the fuck up and last minute clean

9AM - show the house and sell the house on the spot

Here’s how Saturday went: 

9AM - Br finally decides to wake up

10AM - We start driving to Bmore

12PM - Bmore and things

9PM - Leave fucking bmore and decide it’s an all-nighter fo sho

11PM - Arrive home, fall asleep while typing the assignment

1AM - Finally submit assignment and determine that allnighters suck and there’s a better way! We go to sleep NOW. Wake up at 7AM. 6 hours of sleep is better than 0. THEN clean like hell for two hours.

GOOD PLAN RIGHT?

6:30AM - I wake up, eyes burn like hell, head says no, body dead.

7AM - literally fight with Brandon over who needs to get out of bed first so the other one can get out of bed. Then we clean.

8:40AM - Miss fucking Carrie texts me and cancels the showing.

Carrie you fucking vile bitch.

Not only did she fuck me by forcing me to wake up early and clean for her ass, but she also fucked me by throwing off my sleep schedule. Because at 

11AM - Fall asleep on couch and don’t wake up until 3pm.

Fuck you, Carrie.

Also this is all in Eastern time. I couldn’t fathom the Central numbers.

Also the showing for tomorrow canceled as well. At least Jeanette had the fucking decency to cancel more than 24 hours beforehand. Can we give a big round of applause for Jeanette?

-------

It’s fine. I’m fine. But I am salty. I wanted to send her a worded text message, but if there’s a chance she’ll give me coin, I’ll be nice. Ugh if I didn’t want this house to sell asap, I would fucking rip her a new one.

Still salty.

---------

I am going to use this time to get to work. I am probably going to be nocturnal for a while and I’m pissed, yes, but not scared. The night soothes me and it’s my natural element. Maybe I can get my ass on a roll with the moon.

I need to sit down and work. I’ve been avoiding my laptop. I feel that I am behind. That I’ll never catch up. It’s funny thinking this way. Like I’m soooooooo old at 24. That people younger than me are killing it and I feel like shit over that.

I have to stop comparing myself to them. My journey has been very very different.

So, I’m going to get some work done while I’m nocturnal. And see what happens.

I want to create a mini app where its a tiny log of your productivity day.

Just:

Exercise:

Worked on:

Learned: 

Read:

Every success, productivity, self-improvement book I have ever read (And I have read A LOT), tells me that every day you should read, learn and exercise on top of your actual work.

Exercise is good to keep you healthy, relieve stress and help you think through difficult problems.

Continuously learning new things and skills will keep you on top of your career, make you more marketable and advance you to new heights. So, always be studying something or always have a class you’re attending.

Reading every day helps expand your mind and vocabulary as well as teaches you skills. Nonfiction books are recommended to help your life. And yes, reading a book that teaches you something can count in the learning section. So go get personal finance, nutrition, career success, personal development, business or any other book in your field.

Fiction books are great too to help relieve stress and to focus on a different world for a while! 

------------

I’m cooking Chinese food today. I have the rice cooking. Vegetables steamed. And I'm going to make eggrolls and throw everything together. Get in my stomach.

I also finally made Dr. Greger’s drink after collecting ingredients for months lol. It’s very tart because I halved the erythritol he said to use. I only did so because I got powdered and not granulated. So, I figure halve it?

The recipe calls for 8tsp, so next time I’ll use 6tsp and see what’s up.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

PEOPLE JUST IGNORE THAT—OR WORSE, IT'S HAPPENING

The route for the ambitious in that sort of environment is to join one and climb to the top. Raphael so pervaded mid-nineteenth century taste that almost anyone who tried to draw was imitating him, often at several removes. That's even rarer. In the third century BC Archimedes won by doing that. I haven't had to yet. They were all terrible. I believe all have either closed a round or are likely to soon. They could take everyone and keep just the good ones. A lot of the same things we said at the last two. Investors will probably find they do better when deprived of this crutch anyway.1 Facebook didn't, and they've done better than most startups.

Good design is often daring. And you know what? One reason is that to make Leonardo you need more than his innate ability. If the tests a society uses are currently hackable, we can study the way people beat them and try to plug the holes. Why do they do it? In some cases we may have to wait for startups to have traction before they put in significant money. Startups can be irresponsible and release version 1s that are light enough to evolve.2

Including, I hope, the problem that has afflicted so many previous communities: being ruined by growth. As a kid I had what I thought was a huge fleet of toy cars, but they'd be dwarfed by the number of startups in this country, at least to yourself, I could have thought of that. Actually we're the opposite: incubators exert more control than ordinary VCs, and we haven't yet evolved ways to protect ourselves from them. My vote is they're a bad idea. When oil paint replaced tempera in the fifteenth century. They want to get rich, but they may not always be true.3 Fortunately I discovered that when a startup needed to talk to corp dev when they're either doing really well, you can pick a time when you're not in the middle about some of the books.4 Though of course forbidding bad behavior does tend to keep away bad people, because they didn't have materials or power sources light enough the Wrights' engine weighed 152 lbs.5 Facebook didn't, and they've done better than most startups. Are meanness and success are inversely correlated. Why?

In the US this process still shows many outward signs of corruption. Ramen profitability is the least obvious but may be the most powerful forces in a startup depends mainly on how smart and energetic you are, and much less on how old you are or how much business experience you have. Good design is often slightly funny. Have one person talk.6 And it certainly doesn't matter how many of them there are, any more than we'd expect naive solutions for keeping heroin out of a prison to work.7 The aim is not simply to make a lot more people investing tens or hundreds of thousands than millions. If investors get too involved, they smother one of the things the internet has shown us is how mean people can be. If I spent half the day loitering on University Ave, I'd notice. It's good to talk about the needs of people you know personally, like your friends or siblings. Another sign of user need is when people pay a lot for something.8

Raphael so pervaded mid-nineteenth century taste that almost anyone who tried to draw was imitating him, often at several removes. In Florida, which Bush ultimately won 52-47, exit polls ought to be very hard to contain parents' efforts to obtain an unfair advantage for their kids.9 You feel this when you start to examine the question, it's surprising how much different fields' ideas of beauty have in common. Exception: If one of the founders is not competitors but investors. Most founders who get contacted by corp dev already know what it means. Whereas if you can choose when you raise money, you can pick a time when one failed to do something weird at first. Google, presented at some point to investors who didn't get it and turned them down. You don't have to interrupt working on the company isn't. In the big angel rounds that increasingly compete with series A rounds, the investors won't take as much equity as VCs do now.10 The biggest constraint on the number of startups in this country is a policy that would cost practically nothing. Comments have much more effect on new comments than submissions have on new submissions.

The government could not do better than to piggyback on their expertise, and use investment by recognized startup investors as the test of whether a company was a real startup. And this illustrates another advantage of investing over hiring: our relationship with them is way better than it would be a good thing. Don't worry if your company is just a few months old.11 It's a crowded market, I remember one founder saying worriedly.12 In some cases we may have to wait for startups to have traction before they put in significant money. I were a boss making people work this hard. If you're ramen profitable, you're already avoiding these mistakes. The good things in a community site can do is attract the kind of people who could start a startup do. Chasing hot deals doesn't make investors choose better; it just makes them feel better about their choices.13 One forgets it's owned by a private company.14

However, that doesn't mean you should talk like some kind of zenlike detachment from material things.15 And now I have both an additional reason to crack down on it, and that would cost nothing: establish a new class of visa for startup founders. There's still debate about whether this was because of the Bubble, or because they saw a movie star with one in a magazine, or because they're a bad idea. Don't be Evil? Startups and yuppies entered the American conceptual vocabulary roughly simultaneously in the late twentieth century. Aiming at timelessness is a way to evade the grip of fashion. In short, the disasters this summer were just the usual childhood diseases.

Notes

I realized that without the methodological implications. The shift in power from investors to founders is exaggerated now because it's a hip flask. Thought experiment: set aside a chunk of time, default to some abstract notion of fairness or randomly, in one where life was tougher, the increasing complacency of managements. Com.

One YC founder told me they do the opposite way from the creation of wealth to study, because such companies need huge numbers of users to recruit manually—is probably a bad imitation of a running back doesn't translate to soccer. The real decline seems to be clear in our own, like selflessness, might come from.

Throw in the cupboard, but half comes from ads on other sites. It doesn't take a lesson from the CIA runs a venture fund called In-Q-Tel that is more efficient: the energy they emit encourages other ambitious people, instead of crawling back repentant at the mercy of circumstances: court decisions striking down state anti-takeover laws, they seem like I overstated the case of journalists, someone else to lend to, but I managed to screw up twice at the mercy of circumstances: court decisions striking down state anti-dilution provisions, even though you don't have the balls to ask, what that means the investment community will tend to use some bad word multiple times. This trend is one that we wrote in verse. For example, will be maximally profitable when each employee is paid in proportion to the writing of literary theorists.

According to Michael Lind, when politicians tried to shift back. Which in turn is why it's such a low valuation, or one near the door. Where Do College English Departments Come From?

You can get very emotional. If they're on the x axis and returns on the software business, and tax rates will tend to be redeveloped as a result a lot better to make a lot of investors started offering investment automatically to every startup we had to bounce back. There are circumstances where this is a significant number. Incidentally, this phenomenon myself: hotel unions are responsible for more of it.

Then it's up to his time was 700,000 legitimate emails. Many famous works of anthropology.

This is one of his first acts as president, and the fucking fleas. These false positive rate is 10%, moving to Monaco would only give you such a low valuation, that all metaphysics between Aristotle and 1783 had been Boylston Professor of Rhetoric at Harvard is significantly better than having twice as fast is better than their lifetime value, don't even want to get all the free OSes first—A Spam Classification Organization Program. There was one in a place where few succeed is hardly free.

We could be overcome by changing the shape of the next year they worked. Those investors probably thought they'd been living in cities.

Those groups never have that glazed over look. At first literature took a back seat to philology, which means you're being gratuitously troublesome.

If all the red counties. They hoped they were friendlier to developers than Apple is now. Now the misunderstood artist is a bit more complicated, because time seems to have lunch at the fabulous Oren's Hummus. If they really mean, in the twentieth century.

That you're not convinced that what you're doing is almost always bullshit. We thought software was all that value, counting users as active when they're on the side of being absorbed by the surface similarities.

This of course some uncertainty about how the courses they took might look to an associate cold-emailing a startup, and are paid a flat rate regardless of how hard it is certainly an important relationship between the Daddy Model, hard to predict areas where Apple will be interesting to consider behaving the opposite. The Sub-Zero 690, one of the things we focus on their utility function for money. The 1/50th of a press hit, but even there people tend to say that a their applicants come from meditating in an equity round.

Realizing that much to maintain their percentage.

This seems unlikely that every fast-growing startup gets on the Daddy Model may be that the angels are no false negatives. They'll have a different idea of happiness from many older societies. I never get as deeply into subjects as I make it harder for you, they have zero ability to solve a lot about how to appeal to investors. This is actually a computer.

Give the founders. In retrospect, we love big juicy lumbar disc herniations, but explain that's what they give it back. Financing a startup. The original version of everything was called the option pool as well.

Thanks to Steve Huffman, Dan Bloomberg, Ben Horowitz, and Trevor Blackwell for sharing their expertise on this topic.

[robbiefarlow-sidequestfitne-blog]

New Post has been published on Side Quest Fitness

New Post has been published on http://sidequestfitness.com/9-keys-to-make-your-writing-great/

How to Fuck Up Some Commas: Or, The 9 Keys You Need to Make Your Writing Great

170.

No, that’s not the number of video games I’ve beaten in my life. And it sure as hell isn’t the number of women I slept with before my wife (that was less than 10).

It’s the number of articles I’ve written over a two year period on my site, and across the Internet on sites like:

Roman Fitness Systems

BroBible

MyProtein

AskMen

J Max Fitness

Listen, Money Matters

That doesn’t count all the ghostwriting, emails, e-books, and social media posts I’ve written either.

I’m not writing this as some form of public masturbation about what I’ve accomplished (okay, fine, maybe there’s a little jerking off going on).

What spurred these thoughts are the handful of emails and messages from random people I’ve received in the last few weeks/months asking about writing. Most of these coming from people new to the world of online fitness.

This article serves two purposes then: 1) it’s a bit of a reflective piece for myself, and 2) it’s a piece I can now use when someone asks me about writing or content creation on the Internet.

So to the young bucks who’ve asked me about writing, here’s what you need to know about getting better as an Internet scribe.

  Copyright: Image by StockUnlimited

Do the Work

How do you improve at anything?

Repetition. Repetition. Repetition.

It’s how you get stronger in the gym, how you get better at guitar, and it’s how you improve as a writer. The more you write, the more opportunities you have to improve. And that’s why if you’re an aspiring scrivener, you need to write every day.

Writing every day doesn’t mean you have to publish every day. But unless you completely excommunicate yourself from social media, you’re gonna write something. And as Tim Ferriss has said before:

“How you do one thing, is how you do everything.”

It took me a little while to learn this; and by little while, I mean one soul-burning John Romaniello “goddamn it” look before I realized that everything I write — Tweets; Facebook Posts/Comments; Instagram posts; Text Messages; Emails; FB Messenger conversations — should be treated with the same care and diligence I’d give any article.

There’s another reason why you need to write every day. The online world is saturated with content. And the way you make yourself stand out is to be really fucking good. Not mediocre; not so-so; not worthy of a gentleman’s C.

No. You need have to be better.

And if you want to be better, you have to put in the work.

The simple act of writing every day, and paying attention to what you write—no matter the medium—generates awareness to how you write. And like the awareness that comes from tracking calories, you begin to deconstruct your own writing to see where you suck.

From there, you’re able to improve and get better. Because if you’re not getting better, you’re dying.

Vomit is Better Than Perfection

Some things write themselves.

You know it. You write it. Edit a bit. And, “voila!”, you’re done. But the deep shit—the words you bleed onto the page—sometimes need to come out in whatever way possible.

And if what comes out at first is incoherent babble, that’s okay—the first draft is supposed to suck. Everything sucks the first time.

Don’t try and be perfect. Let your sentences sound like the ramblings of a drunken madman teetering down Bourbon Street. That’s okay. Because you’re getting it out.

Most of the time, that’s the hardest part: getting it out. Your brain wants you to make it perfect; your soul needs to exude it; and your hands are sitting there stuck in the middle trying to placate both parties.

So nothing happens. You stare at a blank screen and tell yourself this is impossible.

Hemingway put it best:

Write drunk. Edit sober.

Let your soul bare itself however it sees fit. Then let your brain clean up its mess and make it sound better. Whatever you do, get the words down. Then go back and clean up the vomit.

The Building Blocks  

Ultimately, writing is a lot like playing with LEGOs.

As a kid, I never claimed the rank of master builder. I pretty much built towers to see how high I could take them before I had my action figures demolish them.

But you can build some amazing shit out of LEGOs. And words are kind of like LEGOs. (And yes, you can choke on both.)

When you write a sentence and break it down—not only grammatically but visually (or how it flows when you read it)—you’ll begin to see how you can alter the structure, meaning, and cadence of a sentence with punctuation or changes in vocabulary.

Take the sentence below that I pulled from my first draft:

There are hard rules about grammar. And you need to know the rules—master them, actually—before you can break them.

If you look at this sentence as LEGOs, and punctuation and vocabulary as LEGO pieces, you’ll begin to see how you can add or change certain pieces that change the sentence completely.

Add a comma after the word “and,” and it adds a slight pause and emphasis for needing to know the rules:

There are hard rules about grammar. And, you need to know the rules—master them, actually—before you can break them.

You could also replace the em dash with parenthesis, which makes the words “master them, actually” more like an aside. But parentheticals only work when you’re able to remove the words within them without jacking up the sentence. In this case, it does; but to me, it loses a bit of oomph.

There are hard rules about grammar. And you need to know the rules (master them, actually) before you can break them.

There are hard rules about grammar. And you need to know the rules before you can break them.

Those small tweaks to punctuation change how you read the words in your mind or out loud. And if you wanted to change the cadence of the sentence, you could do so by adding a few more periods.

There are hard rules about grammar. And you need to know the rules. Master them, actually. Before you can break the rules.

(“them” needed to be changed to “the rules,” otherwise, that would have been a sentence fragment)

I don’t proclaim to be a grammar master. I’m still learning. But, I am experimenting with how to structure sentences, and when, what, and where the right punctuation should go to change the rhythm, emphasis, or spirit of a sentence.

Like the LEGO towers that my action figures shattered in my youth, sometimes a laconic sentence is more useful:

Master the hard rules of grammar, before you break them.

Read a Book, Read a Book, Read a Motherfucking Book

Before 2016, I’d read a total of 25, maybe 30 books. Last year, I read 27.

And besides the fact that many of those 27 books inspired articles or emails, the biggest lesson I learned from reading more books is that it makes you a better writer. Why?

If for no other reason than it’s research. Sure, you’re learning new ways to improve yourself or your business or diving deep into an exciting world full of interesting characters, but more than that, it allows me—as a writer—to see how the best wordsmiths craft their work.

How do they create tension and mood within their writing?

Why did they choose to use an em dash and not a comma?

When, how, or why did they change cadence, and how did that change impact me?

What words do these authors use that will expand my 6th-grade lexicon?

I love reading now. It’s the first thing I do every day. And it’s the one thing I feel—next to writing every day—that’s improved my skills the most.

Write By Hand

(Confession: I wrote this entire section on my phone while on the subway in NYC.)

Listen, I’ll be the first to admit, my penmanship is grotesque. Doctors have better handwriting than I do. Still, something happens when you write by hand.

Over the last decade, a few studies have even shown that there’s a clear distinction between writing by hand or on a keyboard. For instance, one study showed that the brains of children “lit up” when asked to write a word by hand vs using a computer. And some doctors believe that as you age, it’s better to write by hand because it improves motor skills, memory, and acts as a good cognitive activity as you age.

I can read the science and I can agree with most of it. But, for me, writing by hand—even the simple act of taking notes while listening to a podcast or reading an article—spurs something more visceral and taps into a creative vein in my mind that writing in Google Docs or iNotes can’t.

That doesn’t mean I write every word of an email, an article, or social media post by hand. 65-70% of what I write is done electronically. But the stuff that burns, that scratches at my soul, and threatens to haunt me if I don’t put it down, comes out on paper.

Where a word processor has distractions like a toolbar or even the ability for you to open another tab and check Facebook/email, what you write on paper stabs you in the eyes—forcing you to examine and come to terms with what’s on the page.

You can erase it and change it, sure. But the remnants of it—the shadow of your erasures or the strike through of your pen—stare back at you and remind you that those are words you wrote; words you believe.

There’s a cathartic connection—a bleeding—that happens when your mind connects with your hand; you struggle less and write more truthfully.

The Best Form of Flattery

Imitation does not mean plagiarization.

Do. Not. Steal.

That’s wrong, and if you do it, you’re a douche-canoe. 

(Douche-canoe is something my friend Aadam says all the time—yes, he has two A’s in his name, that’s not a spelling error. And though I could have made you think I invented the funny word “douche-canoe,” I did not. Aadam did. See, I’m giving him credit and not stealing it.)

When I taught myself how to play the guitar, the first songs I played weren’t my own. I played everyone else’s. And when I did decide to write my first song(s), I imitated the chord progressions from the artists I was listening to at the time. (Thanks, Howie Day.)

But that’s how everyone who picks up a guitar starts their career.

You play Bob Dylan, Deep Purple, Hootie and the Blowfish, and once you’ve nailed the basic chord progressions of your favorite songs, then you’re more likely to experiment and find your voice and create your own music.

And in a lot of ways, that’s what I’ve done as a writer. Writers that I admire and find extremely engaging have been the ones I’ve tried to imitate. Not because I want to be them. But because I needed to play their chords to find my voice.

That’s one of the first things I’ve told anyone who has asked me for writing advice:

“take something you want to write, and write it as if your favorite author wrote it.”

Examine how they use and shape words. And then try and play their song.

But please, don’t steal. There’s a difference between stealing and imitating.

How to Unblock Writer’s Block

This is the 2nd time, and it won’t be the last, that I’ve mentioned Roman in this article. And it might sound like I’m sucking his dick a little bit (I am), but without Roman, there is no Side Quest Fitness; and really there’s no Robbie Farlow as I stand now.

But when it comes to writing, Roman knows his shit. And he often posts tidbits about the (or his) writing process on Facebook or Instagram. When he does, it’s fucking gold; and I hoard it in a secret folder on my phone.

For instance, this is is a screenshot of a comment he left my friend Aadam Ali when Aadam was struggling with writer’s block.

“So Robbie, what do you do when you have writer’s block?”

My usual response to this question is that I throw on some Dashboard, cast myself on the floor, and scream the lyrics to the heavens while I beseech my muse to return. I’m like half joking when I say that. (Half.)

The other half involves one or two of the following, and these are usually what I recommend others do as well:

Masturbate

Take a walk

Listen to a podcast

Read

Write something other than fitness

Film yourself speaking about what you’re trying to write. Walk around your room with a camera on and just record yourself talking about what you want to say.

Drink whiskey

Play video games

Learn a new song on the guitar

Take a shower

Sing This Bitter Pill as loud as possible

Writer’s block, for me, is usually a sign that I’m fighting something I should be writing. Or that I’m trying to make it “perfect,” instead of vomiting my soul on the page.

Writing What You Know

Before I ever decided to become a trainer or even launch my coaching business, I read articles by the giants in the industry. And these guys are smart. Like, the best of the best. But I’m no Tony Gentilcore, Dean Somerset, Dan John, or Ben Bruno.

Those guys dive deep into the science behind how the body works while you lift. But, me?

I love reading anything written by the best of the best, and (for the most part) I understand the super-sciency terminology they use.

But my friends who first came to me and asked about getting in shape, probably don’t. And the clients I work with don’t really care about the science either. What they want are the exercises that help them feel better, move better, and look better naked.

And it’s my job to take the knowledge I have, and that I continue to seek, and add a bit of a nerdtastic flare to it—providing my readers and clients with a frame of reference they connect with, be it video games, comics, Star Wars, or sports.

Those four things above are what I know. They are who I am; and the lens through which I view the world around me.

I don’t know everything about kinesiology. But, I do know how to connect diet to Indiana Jones, motivation to Lord of the Rings, leadership to Call of Duty, and pretty much everything else to Star Wars or my love for UNC basketball.

So that’s what I’m gonna write about. Oh, and Buffy.

It’s Not the Tool, It’s How You Use It

Before I joined the Roman Fitness Systems Mastermind, I remember having a long conversation with Tanner Baze about how we hated reading sales copy. We felt dirty. Icky.

Like the words we were reading were written by He Who Shall Not Be Named himself.

God, were we stupid.

We were looking at copywriting all wrong. Or, at least, I was (I don’t know about ole dtbaze).

Because the truth is, all writing is copywriting.

Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Rothfuss, King, Shakespeare, every single author who has ever written a story or a screenplay, was, essentially, writing sales copy.

Copywriting—in the sales realm—has one primary goal: to get you to buy whatever product the ad is selling. 

And if it’s good copy, each word will sell you on reading the next line in the sales ad until you buy.

Oh, shit. That’s exactly what good authors do as well.

Each line sales you on reading the next line. Why else would you read a gigantic 1,200-page book if you weren’t buying each line and spending the only currency you can’t get back: time.

And of course there’s bad, smarmy, snake-oily sales copy out there that makes a ton of money selling bullshit.

But hey, someone made a gazillion dollars writing Twilight fan fiction that then became a best-selling series and Hollywood film franchise. So sometimes evil wins. And yes, you can use the power of words in 50 different shades of evil to sell bullshit.

Or, you can learn to harness the power and use it for good. And that’s what a good writer, or copywriter, would do: use words for the betterment of humanity.

The Penis Pen is Mightier

Truth is: I’ve always been a writer.

I wrote my first story on a piece of cardboard I pulled from a trash bin. It wasn’t very good. It sounded like a five-year-old wrote it. Because a five-year-old did write it.

But I stopped writing around the time I got a Nintendo. And only picked the pen back up when I fell in love with poetry as a teen.

My years as a poet ended when a few friends accused me of being a bit too emo (whatever the fuck that means). And from that point, the only writing I engaged in were the mandatory papers I had to write in high school or college.

Secretly, though, I missed writing.

I may never be a Hemingway. Or a Strauss. And I sure as hell won’t ever be a Shakespeare. But that doesn’t mean that I can’t, or shouldn’t write.

Writing every day for two years has improved my quality of life.

I don’t wake up and despise the morning anymore. My thoughts are more clear. I’ve taken more stock into what I think and believe because I’ve been forced to write them down and confront those words face-to-face.

And, above all, I’ve found something that’s galvanized my soul and that I’m driven to improve upon every, single, day.

So if you’re an aspiring writer, whether you want to write fitness blogs, short stories, or a novel. Do one thing, and one thing only—write.

Write like a motherfucker. Then, continually look for ways to improve. Study the authors you read and imitate their style. Treat every word you write on social, in text messages, or in your journal as if it were being published in The New York Times.

And as the great Romaniello once said:

Don’t let the idea of “what your writing may become” interfere with the process of actually writing it.

[fools---gold]

Never Grow Up - 2004 I am four-years-old and dreaming of being a veterinarian and an astronaut and a singer and an olympic gymnast. Yet, I am told that to become a vet and an astronaut that I would have to be extremely smart and be in school for an extensive amount of time; I am told that not many people succeed. I am told that few people attain a career as a singer; I am told that there are too many people out there who know how to sing well. I am told that I am not built to be a gymnast; I am told that activities like that put too much strain on the body. So, I smile and say, “Okay,” even though all of the dreams in which my little heart has envisaged have been crushed. Why is everyone speaking for me? Everything Has Changed - 2008 I am eight-years-old and I am feeling more independent than ever. But my life is changing faster than I can blink. I no longer wake up to see my mom’s pool of blonde locks next to mine. I no longer feel my mother’s welcoming arms or hear her benevolent voice reading out The Notebook before dinner. My father is thousands of miles away on an agonizing military deployment; this would make it deployment number three. I am with family but they feel foreign to me. I know their names and their faces; I have spent few holidays with them and family dinners are even more rare. For the first time I feel alone. Why does everyone keep asking if I am okay? Do they know? Can they not see how my hips stick out a little bit more than usual? How my once always tight jeans are now baggy? Can they not see the permanent redness in my eyes? Nevertheless, I smile and act as if nothing is wrong. Summer is over and I am now in fourth grade. A new school and a new set of friends, nothing I have not had to deal with before, right? At least now, I have a voice. Mean - 2010 I am ten-years-old and my life is a play. There is so much “pretending.” I have a new brother, mother-figure, and baby sister in my life. Everything happened so fast. I ponder the fact that my loved ones should encourage me to be myself and to not let others put me down for who I am. I do not not mean to, but how am I supposed to know better? I have been hiding it for two years now. My family continues to tell me to be myself. Would they continue encouraging me if they knew? The minute someone says something that hurts my feelings, their advice is, “Pretend it doesn’t bother you, don’t let them win. Put a smile on your face and pretend like you are not affected.” But my fight is gone. Why can’t they win? They say you cannot win every battle and what if I am fighting a battle that I do not have the energy for? When my parents are mad at me, I pretend like I am fine. Even though they say that I should always express my feelings and never hold anything in, they never mean how I am feeling towards them because as a “kid,” I am always wrong, and they, as people who are “older and wiser,” are always right. Do I dare mention the fact that they hurt my feelings or made me feel more worthless than the bullies at school? Do I tell my parents the truth, or hold it in to avoid World War III? They constantly bring up every situation in which I have lied, disrespected someone, and they will point out all my flaws. They say, “It’s just a phase. This is not who you are. We didn’t raise you to be like this.” Then where does that leave me? It leaves me in a deeper hole. People ask how I do it so well. “If I were you, I wouldn't be able to function,” they say. I’ve been told my whole life to pretend to do this, to pretend to be that. I am only certain about one thing: I like the long-haired, brown-eyed, tall, redhead girl in my class, my best friend, but I like her as more than just a best friend. Beside this, I am lost and confused. Who am I? I am only the person I pretend to be; the person that everyone else wants me to be; the person they have formed me into. Give me the opportunity to be myself and I will probably just end up even more lost. I would be searching for a person I know nothing about. Speak Now - 2015 I am fifteen and I am caught in an inner-conflict between finding my worth and feeling no self worth. In my Christian household, I will be told that I am a sinner, that I am not a “true Christian.” Since the moment we are born until the minutes leading up to death we are told that we are all special, that we are all unique and beautiful. Now it may seem as though everything written here will contradict this next statement, but that means you’ll be just as confused as I am. With all my heart, I believe that we as humans are put on this earth by a superior power. A power that is to be both feared and loved unconditionally. I believe that every human is made to be beautiful in their own way. So, why then, I must ask, does it feel like I am alone? Why does it seem as though the world is conspiring against me? Why do people's actions beg to be labeled as something other than beautiful? I wish I could answer these questions. I wish someone else could tell me the answers. But, you see, the thing is, there are no real answers. There’s this quote by a man by the name of Khaled Hosseini, a beautiful writer who talks about real problems in the real world. He says, “They say, ‘Find a purpose in life and live it.’ But sometimes it is only after you have lived that you recognize your life had a purpose, and likely one you never had in mind.” On my fingers and toes I can count off the times where I felt as though I was not useful, that I was an outcast. I can count the times where not existing would have felt better than simply breathing. Now do not be fooled, I am not here to say that I am the victim in every situation, because that is far from the truth. I have had my fair share of being tortured, but I have also done quite a bit of torturing to others myself. Everyone has their own troubles, their own mountains to climb. We all just want to live life and be happy, so why is it that so many people seem to not want that for you? I think it all started when they began telling me how “gay” I was. They called me “homo” and “lesbian” and “vagitarian.” I am at the point where I don't know what else to do. I do not care about the colloquial language I use, because in the end does saying what I am trying to say come across any different if I used a higher vocabulary? What is fixing the words going to do? They still mean the same thing and they are still words. People continuously say words are “only words” and they should not hurt you, brush them off because “sticks and stones may break your bones but names will never hurt.” Yet, is it not funny how people are expected to be moved by them? They say “words of wisdom” and “motivational quotes.” How are words supposed to be only positive? There are derogatory words for a reason. Just like there are positively impacting words, there are hurtful ones. We cannot just expect everything in life to be good because not everything in life is good. Nothing in life will ever be perfect. As much as we may try to make ourselves believe it is perfect, we will just end up disappointing ourselves. I am not going to tell you that everything will be okay because not everything will be okay. I would absolutely love to tell you that life is going to be amazing and all your dreams will come true, but then I would be lying. You see my whole life, I have always known I was different. While my older cousins were playing the annual Thanksgiving soccer game, I was yelling on the sidelines for them to pull me in to play, meanwhile all my friends were at home painting their nails and playing with their barbies. While all the kids were playing on the swings during recess, I was reading and taking my own mind to faraway places; places I didn't realize I was at until I came back into what everyone else labels “reality.” And P.S. reality is horrifying. New Romantics - July 2016 I am sixteen and am convinced that I have my life all figured out. Have you ever just sprawled out on the ground outside and looked up at the sky? Do you notice how that no matter how hard you try, you can never count the number of stars? Are you able to wrap your mind around the fact that there are more stars in the sky than there are individual grains of sand in all of the beaches in the world? I know I can’t. I’m laying here thinking about all that has happened in the past week. Let alone in the past three days. On July 20, I officially came out as lesbian to two of my older cousins, two people who are practically my brothers. I have finally accepted who I am. On July 23, I spent the night with the most amazing girl. I explored a world that I had never before been introduced to. To me, she was perfect. She had these eyes that were the most beautiful color. As she tells me, “Okay but this song is one of the best!” for the past 6 songs that we’ve listened to, her eyes fill with this shred of passion and her voice carries a poetic tone. When she’s describing this book that she loves that she thinks I’ll like, she gets this smile that you can’t help but smile back at. Her laugh was so contagious and quickly became one of my favorite sounds. I wanted to kiss her so bad that first night, but I didn’t. Ask me why I didn’t and I could come up with a million excuses. The real answer is simple honestly: just like the thought of the grains of sand and the stars in the sky, I could not fathom the thought of such an amazing person being in my life. I cannot express in words how scary yet exhilarating it is. It felt as if any second she’ll disappear and all I’ll be left with are the traces of her scent on my pillow. As we were lying there, she began to say something and then she stopped, and finally, with a little persuasion, she said what she had intended. She told me to not get too attached. In that moment, with the moonlight glowing on her skin, the curves and shadows creating nothing more than silhouette, I knew that I already had. She told me that she didn’t want to hurt me, but I thought to myself, “It’d be a beautiful tragedy.” Still, I said okay. Then she started talking about how she didn’t want to be hurt by me. But if only she knew how with every word she spoke I fell for her all over again. She said that everyone lies when they say they won’t leave. I’m here and I don’t want to go anywhere. I wish she knew. Nevertheless, I still nod my head and say, “Okay.” I could not picture being anywhere else with anyone else in that moment. All Too Well - August 2016 I was left alone, again. I thought, “There is no way that this is happening again.” I stopped hiding who I was and was comfortable in life and she left me. She said, “It’s not you, I really do like you, but I need time to find myself. I don’t want to be like this anymore.” It was then that I realized that I was not the only girl she was leading on. She had her own little band of girls who followed her around like little puppy dogs, begging for more. While I sat and contemplated all that I had thought that I did wrong, I came to the conclusion that I was not meant to be happy. Any source of happiness I had ever found was ripped from my grasp. “Maybe it’s easier this way,” I thought to myself, “women are always leaving my life.” However, in the darkest hours of the night, I would find myself asking a multitude of questions. Many of them making me feel alone and hopeless. Why is this happening? What is wrong with me? Begin Again - September 2016 It all makes sense, I now know why it never worked out with anyone else. For the first time in a long time, I feel hope. I am happy. I now know what it is like to have something that I want to show off and not be ashamed. I am no longer afraid of the night and the thoughts that came with it, for I know now that my thoughts are always on her and what an amazing person she is. She picked me up when I couldn't find a reason. She became my reason and I know that, despite my flaws and the very danger of being with me, she loves me. I am no longer afraid of what my parents may think about me liking girls. I may not know where I will end up in life, but I no longer have to pretend to be someone I am not. I am no longer ashamed of what I feel. I am no longer ashamed of all the things I had looked at as major flaws in myself. She tells me that I am beautiful and because of her, I am starting to believe it. I know for a fact that I love her and that in itself is enough for me. From here awaits a journey that I am more than eager to pursue.