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bullybyulyi · 6 years ago

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hell of laziness

kofi

At the age of 17, Kim Yongsun had come upon the realization that as far as natural talent was concerned, she was average. She keeps her head low as her father berates her, waving a round a piece of paper like it was her death sentence.

“You think these grades are okay? You sister wasn’t like this when she was your age. Where did your mother and I go wrong, huh?” He’s frantic. And loud. But Yongsun knows he’s only like this because he cares. She keeps her mouth shut.

“I’m disappointed, but I know you can do better than this Yongsun, you just have to work harder. It’s not too late to get into a good university if you just work hard from now on.” He drops the paper down on the table between them. “I expect better next time.”

It burns. It’s suffocating. Yongsun waits for her father to finish evaluating her in his eyes, waits for him to sigh, and get up and leave back to his office. When she’s finally alone, she picks up the paper. She had passed everything, the numbers all average. It wasn’t enough.

She stops hanging out with her friends. She stops playing. She stops dancing. She stops singing. One year later, Yongsun is all alone, but when she gets her acceptance letter, her parents finally hold their tongues, and she breathes a sigh of relief.

Byulyi leans outside the doorway of a practice room. The door is cracked slightly open, rendering the soundproof walls totally useless. She stands there, and listens, and feels the corners of her lips pull down, the muscles of her brow tighten.

“Do you know how much time and money you are wasting with this? You sister is studying in England, she’s getting a Master’s! The least you can do is get a respectable job. You need to stop this nonsense and go back to school.”

“I don’t have time to go to school.”

“So I’m telling you to quit playing around! I don’t understand why you are being so unreasonable now. Yongsun, you already put in two years. Who knows if this idol business is going to go anywhere? You are already 22.”

“Dad, I have to do this. I signed a contract. And I want to.” Yongsun’s voice is getting smaller and smaller.

“You foolish daughter of mine. How could you sign something like that without telling us in the first place, huh? Don’t bother showing your face to me unless you’re back on track to getting a degree. Do you understand me, Kim Yongsun?”

Yongsun feels a familiar anxiety choke her. She feels her heart throbbing against her chest, trying to break out, trying to run away. She doesn’t know what to say, and then she feels a warm hand envelop her own.

Yongsun looks up in shock and shame but Byulyi doesn’t make eye contact, simply stares at their hands, interlaces their fingers, and squeezes. It’s simple, quiet comfort.

Yongsun inhales deeply.

“I understand, dad.”

“Good. I’ll see you tonight and we can call your university.”

Click.

Yongsun lets her phone drop to her lap and lets Byulyi keep silently caress her fingers. Byulyi is warm, her movements are soft, and her eyes gentle. Yongsun doesn’t crumble, doesn’t break down and cry, but she lets Byulyi take both her hands now and massage them like she’s trying to rub her phone conversation away.

“You should move in with me and Hyejin.” Byulyi finally says.

“What?”

“It’s a lot of fun. I promise.” Byulyi smiles at her. “Stay with me tonight, you’ll see.” She looks into Yongsun’s eyes, and Yongsun sees a way out. Don’t go home. Stay with us.

Yongsun considers it for a moment. Considers not going home, making good on her father’s words, and realizes he’s right. She’s 22. She can do what she wants.

“Okay.”

“Hey Byul.”

“Mm?”

“Do you think we’ll make it?”

“Hmm. I think so. I hope so.”

“…Me too.”

“Hey, next time your parents call they’ll be asking for concert tickets.”

“Hah!”

“We’ll be great, Yong, don’t worry. We just have to keep up the hard work.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Just got to keep working.”

“Hey hey hey what are you doing here?! Wake up, Unnie!”

Yongsun jerks awake so hard she feels the muscle in her neck twist. Again. “Ah! Ahhh, Byul-ah.” She calls to her rude awakener. Byulyi to her credit goes directly to massaging the area at the back of her neck.

“Why are you sleeping here Yong? I told you to stop doing this. It’s definitely not helping your neck.”

“I’m working on something.” Yongsun excuses.

“Really? Because it looks to me like you were sleeping.” Byulyi raises an eyebrow. Her hand smooths over the bump of Yongsun’s neck and glides down her back. She speaks again, softer. “Why didn’t you just go home?”

“I’m more productive in the studio.” Yongsun shrugs her hand away, feeling stiff and a bit cranky.

Byulyi frowns. “I think you’re more productive after a proper rest.”

“I don’t care what you think, I’m in the middle of something.” Yongsun brushes her off, looking over the papers scattered all around her.

Byulyi feels her jaw clench in frustration before letting out a long sigh. “Look, I didn’t come here to fight.”

“Then why are you bothering me?” Yongsun asks shortly, and it’s all Byulyi can do to stop from pulling at her hair.

She grabs the armrests of Yongsun’s chair and twists so that they’re facing each other, tearing Yongsun’s shallow focus away from her compositions. Before the older woman can voice her protests, Byulyi speaks.

“Yonghee-unnie asked if you were with me, since you didn’t come home last night.”

That makes Yongsun pause. Her sister always did have a soft spot for her. “I’ll call her later.” She begins turning back to the desk. Byulyi stops her again.

“Or,” She takes Yongsun’s hands so they can’t go back to scribbling on papers. “You can come home with me now. And we can get you breakfast. When did you last eat?”

Yongsun shrugs. Byulyi sighs again.

“I have to keep working Byul, I can’t be lazy.”

“Snap out of it and look at yourself,” Byulyi actually snaps in front of her eyes, making Yongsun blink twice. “Resting isn’t lazy. Taking care of yourself isn’t lazy. Jeez Yong, you’re gonna give me wrinkles if you keep doing this.” She points to the spot between her brows. “Right here. Do you see? This wrinkle is just for you.”

There is a tiny crease there, and it’s enough to make Yongsun breathe out a tired laugh. “Fine, I’ll come home and sleep in a bed.” She concedes, making Byulyi grin.

As they gather the stray half-filled music sheets, Yongsun once again considers the papers in her hands, and feels a nostalgic weight in them, a piece of paper she held like this, 10 years prior.

“I always feel like I’m running out of time.” She thinks out loud.

Byulyi flicks her forehead, bringing out a pout. “Yeba,” she laughs, light and easy, “who’s keeping track?”

#mamamoo fanfiction #solar #moonbyul #moonsun #ff #introspective stuff is always a gamble #i hope this is written in a way that is acceptable though #cw family #?#such things will be complicated #and obviously some things i assume yong feels about herself aren't true

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trinketstar · 3 years ago

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im thinking abt osomatsu

he’s almost nobody’s favorite character right off the bat, and then everyone who has him as their favorite is SUUUPER heavily introspective about the show because even though he’s the title character he’s probably the hardest to distinguish from the rest when you’re new to the show. He’s the main guy. he’s the default model and all the others are variations. he doesn’t really have a gimmick or a trope to his personality besides maybe gambling and being a jerk.

BUT its kinda perfect because he Defines the show. he’s the entire reason the rest of the brothers are the way they are. he’s the leader and they all know it and they can’t escape him. and its KINDA SAD.

OF course they never dwell or focus on any of the incredibly well built up character traits they establish in this show, i could go on forever about that. But for once I really feel like the majority fandom interpretation of Oso isn’t really reaching at all. He holds onto his childish persona and absolutely refuses to grow from it, because that’s what he’s comfortable with. He has a low image of himself, but doesn’t show it or introspect like Ichi does. I’d argue having a shaky sense of identity is kinda the basis of every matsu’s character flaws, but that’s the most true for this guy. He didn’t have to worry about that stuff as a kid. He was the only one with a personality and the rest just followed along. He didnt HAVE to be anything more than that. If he resented being seen as one of six, he didnt realize it until he grew up, and only now does he realize how much it messed him up. And instead of trying to work on it, he’s just desperately trying to maintain the status quo as long as he can. No matter how much the other brothers try to change themselves and become their own people, in either a jokey or serious way, Oso ALWAYS drags them back down to his level again. Even if it hurts them.

HE HAS GROWN FROM THIS OF COURSE. Very very slowly over the course of the 3 seasons and the movie you can tell he’s a little more willing to try new things and become a little more mature. I mean he couldnt get much worse than ep 24, actually physically hurting the youngest brothers and completely emotionally shutting down when Choro left. But he still kinda does this in less obvious ways in later eps.

I really loved the analysis they did with him in the episode where he goes on a date with Nyaa Chan. He was joking like “haha im gonna score with her lol” but then she actually asks him out for real and he’s SO TERRIFIED. and it’s hilarious and adorable he’s just hiding under the couch and they have to drag him out kicking and screaming for an hour. He’s so afraid of change. He doesn’t trust himself enough to be a “real adult” and do all the things he’s supposed to do. That’s why he tries to lower everyone’s expectations of him, but when THAT doesn’t work he has no idea what to do.

While the other’s dilemmas are that they HAD no identity until they became adults, and are desperately trying to compensate by roping themselves into tropes that they don’t even really fit, Oso is the only one who’s stuck with the same role he’s always had, and it doesn’t fit anymore. It’s because he’s grown up now, and because the others dont need him to define the group anymore, and being the big brother doesn’t really matter anymore. so who IS he?

i didn’t have a point or conclusion to this i just think he’s a very developed and interesting take on a grown up version of a very simply written classic cartoon character and the show gives juuuust enough hints at this for me to be satisfied but i want MORE and i want this for all of the characters cuz im in too deep. thank you for attending my ted talk. next I’ll discuss the “jyushimatsu and concepts” skit and how that boy’s secretly the smartest out of all of them ok bye

*edit: i forgot i didnt even mention Tougou. I mean he’s not canon to the new show so it doesn’t matter but HONESTLY if he was i wouldn’t even be surprised. With all of Oso’s surprisingly intense baggage, him having some kinda childhood trauma would make a LOT of sense. Especially with how clingy he is with his family and how he hates the thought of them leaving. His comfort in dwelling in the past, sabotaging chances to change their lives. IM JUST SAYING it would make sense.

#trinket rambles #osomatsu san

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likeastarstar · 4 years ago

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5:34 PM- Jimin

You had one of those dads.

The kind with the addictive personality, the tendency to gamble. The kind that they always put on TV because it pulled at people’s heartstrings- the one that demanded pity because they were so desperate, the kind of dad that used to show that the only people who cared that much about money were the ones who didn’t have any.

You hated those TV shows.

They made you angry, the way they got it right- the desperation, the insistence that there was a right way to go off the problem, an easy solution, but those dads, your dad, chose the wrong way every time.

Those TV shows looked at you in the face and told you that you had a shitty childhood. You didn’t- your dad loved you, which is all they’re supposed to do. The TV shows neglect to mention the fact that dads were people too, that it was okay that they happened to be shitty people. It was possible to be a shitty person and an amazing dad at the same time. They didn’t realize that because they didn’t have that type of dad.

You did.

You didn’t even realize it was possible to be both a good person and a successful father until you met Jimin. You watched him move around, making himself food, cleaning up after himself. He was kind, followed morals. He didn’t obsess over money you were making, he believed in equality and actually followed it. He was introspective and had wisdom to give, was independent in a way that showed you that he didn’t really need you- he just wanted you, because he valued you.

It was the kind of stuff that brought tears to your eyes, a dream you hadn’t really realized you had. A man who you could breath around, one that you didn’t have to constantly worry about. It was a foreign feeling, watching him be a viable option to actually build a life around without fear of him going off the deep end and leaving you stranded.

There was a fear in the security Jimin presented to you. He was your biggest confidant- your person. But he wouldn’t understand this. You've met his dad, he didn't have the same mentality as yours. You were grateful for that, but still. He wouldn’t understand…

“Do you want me to make you something?” He asked, wiping down a countertop.

You looked at him, raising your eyebrows slightly. Crisp white t-shirt, plain sweatpants. He was barefaced, hair unwashed and pulled back by a hairband. He was himself, you were yourself.

“No,” You smiled, “That’s okay, I’m not hungry.”

He smiled back at you and nodded, going back to cleaning the kitchen. You stared down at the ring on your finger, too large for someone of your background, too shiny for someone with parents like yours. You wondered what you did to deserve this, staring at the ring for too long apparently, because Jimin stopped and looked at you, leaning his weight onto the kitchen countertop.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, you know.” He reminded, studying your facial expression. You frowned at him, confused for a moment before his nervous gaze shifted to the ring on your finger, flickering his eyes back up at you with his eyebrows raised expectantly.

He was biting his lips, a habit the two of you both had when anxious. You smiled at him warmly, appreciating the way your fiancé seemed to relax instantly after, his shoulders floating down slightly. You could read him like the back of your palm by now. You knew every thought in his head, if there was anyone who you trusted- it was him.

“I want to marry you,” You said adamantly, shaking your head. “I'm not sure of anything else beside that.”

masterlist.

(A/N: Yikes- daddy issue alert! Happy October! Feedback is always appreciated!)

#bts timestamps #bts drabble #jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin drabble #jimin x oc #park jimin fic #jimin fluff #jimin angst #bts headcanons #jimin oneshot

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consulaaris · 4 years ago

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SHEPHERDS OF HAVEN RECRUIT FORM - RHIANNON VASI

(template by @shepherds-of-haven !)

BIOGRAPHICAL INFO

name + nicknames: rhiannon vasi - rhia (by red, and later the other shepherds), sunshine/frosty/ice-queen (by chase)

titles: captain of the shepherds, the hero of haven, the dragonslayer

callsign: aethereal (possibly glacier)

gender: cis woman

sexuality: bisexual

pronouns: she/her

racial heritage: hunter

age + flower day: 28 years + 12 leph (winter)

height: 5’3” (160cm)

“a female mage with waist-length tousled raven hair and attractive stormy grey eyes. you're wearing your shepherds uniform and sun medallion. you have a streak of white in your hair as a result of your hunter heritage, and your cloak sports a golden eagle clasp.”

BACKGROUND INFO

weapon: daggers

magic specialization: elementalist (aetherai)

birthplace: maj

education: circle-trained

MISCELLANEOUS INFO

past jobs: freelance mercenary, bodyguard, library assistant, tavern waitress (that one lasted like, a solid day and a half before she blew up on a rude customer)

likes: fancy cloaks, books, khav, stargazing, sweets & baked goods, picnics, cats, snowy or rainy weather, quiet days, inside jokes, cuddling with her friends & loved ones

dislikes: people prying into her past, pickled vegetables, enclosed and/or crowded spaces, swimming, being Known™ in haven

strengths: magic (both brute force & controlled), knife-fighting, working with children, speed, cleverness, quick-thinking, introspectiveness, honesty

weaknesses: social situations, overly stubborn, past injuries (particularly on her hands) sometimes make it hard to fight physically, brute strength, holds grudges, emotionally repressed + PTSD, has a major guilt complex & will push people away/get herself into dangerous situations to “protect them” (doesn’t consider her own safety to be an important thing, essentially)

hobbies + special skills: wood carving, studying magic/history/astronomy, writing poetry, impressive gambling skills (she’s good at people reading and has a great poker face; she just struggles when she has to like. actually talk LOL)

major arcana: the hermit

dnd morality alignment: chaotic neutral/true neutral; leans towards the good side there, though

meyers-briggs personality type: intj-t

PERSONALITY

heart of gold / will of iron (it’s a 52-48 split- very close)

rebellious / loyal

independent / social

tactful / straightforward

bold / cautious

charming / stoic / intimidating

witty / sincere

resentful / forgiving

self-preserving / self-sacrificing (rhia claims she’s self-preserving, but she’s really... not)

book-smart / street-smart

one-god / atheist / old faith

bright mind / silver tongue / razor wits / nerves of steel

overall personality: although as a child/teen she was confident and playful, ten years of life alone and on the run have hardened rhia and caused her to retreat into her shell. she’s always been headstrong and stubborn, but now she tends to come across as rather prickly or icy to people she doesn’t know or trust. when you do get to know her though, it’s clear she’s more awkward than intentionally mean, although her personality can still come off as snarky or abrasive when she’s in uncomfortable situations or around unfamiliar faces. rhia can be a bit temperamental at times, but (though she’s convinced otherwise) she’s a good person with a kind heart who’s incredibly protective of those she cares about, no matter how much she may try to deny or bury it- she never asked for the powers to save the world, but she’ll be damned if she won’t do it... regardless of the cost to herself. she blames herself entirely for the loss of her village and is terrified of hurting the people she loves like that again, but joining the shepherds is the biggest catalyst for rhia trying her best to open up once more. though she’s always cared for them in her own way she’s now beginning to truly trust them, and with red around she’s slowly starting to show her softer side again, too.

RELATIONSHIPS

best friend(s): red antiqua, halek prince, riel syndran, briony stormbreaker, caine

preferred mission partner(s): red, halek, blade (they butt heads, but rhia trusts his work ethic lolol), and ayla or briony. generally a team that she trusts to get stuff done & won’t give her a heart attack (i.e. working with chase or trouble can be fun, but rhia is Stressed)

friendly rival(s): probably chase a little bit, just because they tend to snark at each other a lot. they’re good friends though! she and ayla also get a little competitive since they’re both elementalists, but it’s the type of rivalry that pushes them both to improve.

love interest(s): red antiqua (ex and current)

first kiss scenario: okay but the fact that i could 100% see that being their first kiss as teenagers + a possible first kiss once they get back together... good shit. (and i do have a WIP where rhia gets injured... 🤔)

enemies: ebert, the endarkened, the autarchy, moonsilk (not really she’s just big mad + halek is her bff ajsjjsjsj)

REFERENCE QUOTES

“she’s got a passion for learning, that one. miss vasi was the best assistant i’ve had in ages, and though i often found her reading on the job she always finished her work. very detail oriented, too, although i do wish she hadn’t left so suddenly. it always did feel like she was running from something.” (- librarian from an unnamed city in Blest)

“rhiannon’s vicious in a fight, i’ll give ‘er that much. she’s not exactly the most chatty o’ folks, but if yer looking for a good bodyguard you ain’t getting’ much better than ‘er.” (- fellow mercenary)

“i think she might hold the record for the shortest amount of time a waitress ever worked here. to be fair, i don’t really blame her for throwing a drink in that man’s face and threatening to shove her foot up his you-know-where when he made that comment, but business is business.” (- owner of an inn in an unnamed city in Blest)

“rhia was always at the top of our class in the circle; she was confident and funny, and even when she got in trouble it was clear the teachers loved her! she was always happy to help anyone with their work, too- or anything really. she was great fun, one of the good ones. i do wonder what happened in those years she was gone though, because seeing her again, it was like she was almost... sad. like a light all burnt out. i hope she’s alright; i’ve been a little worried, and i know red and neon have too. red especially, if you catch my drift.” (-panrachus )

#shepherds of haven #shoh #shepherds of haven mc #shoh oc #shoh recruit form #oc: rhiannon vasi #i’m procrastinating writing again (although i am Almost done with this rhia/red fic i’ve been working on holy shit)#but in any case: rhia has been living in my head rent free and i love this disaster woman <3 #i was too lazy to edit the artbreeder image to add her white streak or beauty marks lolol but it’s fine #i know i’ve done some art & fic with rhia but i don’t think it’s rlly touched on some aspects of her character i’ve been fleshing out?#so a solid intro post felt in order ahshjsjsjsj

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calpops · 5 years ago

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falling facade | c.h.

part one: falling flowers

A friendly date with Calum’s best friend’s sister was not supposed to tailspin into a night of blurry secrets and uncertain feelings. And yet, there was no telling of the fleeting taste of sugar and the warmth of being with each other. There was no denying all that lingered between them. And consequently, there was no escaping all of the repercussions and mixed emotions the night created.

5k words

<< >>

The party was verging on completion when Calum finally worked his way over to her; he had spotted her almost immediately after entering the yard. He almost didn’t recognize her after years of change and distance. She sat alone on the grass, back to the house with a bottle leaning against her leg. Music was becoming a background noise as the glitzy house party began to wither away. Calum approached her slowly and kneeled down, his own drink settling on the grass. Her head was tilted back, gazing up at the stars in a silent introspection. Calum knew she was aware of his presence; the slight shift in her position offering him a spot by her side. He took it without a word and pressed his back to the siding of the house just like her; let his eyes wander up as he cleared his throat.

“Hey, short stuff,” he began with; the old nickname coming off his lips in a teasing manner as it always had.

“You know I hate being called that,” she answered as she always used to. “Ever since we were kids.”

Calum nodded though she couldn’t see it, her gaze still captured by constellations. He let out a breath as his hand hovered over his drink and his eyes skirted down to hers. It was nearly empty and he couldn’t help but wonder how many she’d already had. His hand abandoned his cup in favor of settling on his lap.

“And I’ll have you know I hit my growth spurt since I last saw you,” she defended as she finally turned to catch eyes with him.

Dark hazel eyes were unblinking and unfazed. She had changed over the years, but her unflinching ability to hold eye contact stayed the same. Calum remembered her in hazy moments. Michael’s sister was sifted into the background of many memories. Now she was a thought at the forefront as Calum arched an eyebrow and took up the bait of banter.

“Yeah, how much did you grow? An inch?” He asked as she sighed with pouted lips and eyes that told him he was a fool.

“Two, actually,” she corrected in such a matter of fact voice Calum couldn’t argue; or continue to use his nickname against her.

“Alright. Arden it is then,” he conceded and though the name was foreign on his tongue after years of not using it the slight smirk on her face made him want to continue the practice. “How has Arden been lately?”

She gave him a pointed look and a smirk but shrugged, a forced nonchalance taking over. She picked at an imaginary loose thread on her striped pants as her feet wiggled and she figured out how she had been doing. Calum gave her time to think it over, craving an honest answer.

“I’d say I’ve been doing okay in some aspects,” she replied and shrugged again. “Maybe not as okay in others. I’m no famous rock star, that’s for sure.”

Calum bit back a sarcastic laugh at her last comment but let the reality of her words before wrap around him. Okay and not as okay. She was a conundrum, a kaleidoscope point of view; this and that all at once. Calum suddenly wanted to see from her eyes, see the shifting lenses and the light and reflections of how okay and how not okay she was.

“Last I knew you were off in Italy somewhere, what brought you all the way out here?” He asked, hoping that maybe Italy and her reasons for visiting were a part of the okay aspects.

Arden shifted, turning so her weight was on one leg and knees were bent and she could face Calum fully. She reached for the bottle she was nursing and took the last small sip from it before putting it aside and pursing her lips in thought.

“Michael didn’t tell you?”

Calum shook his head; confusion clear in the motion. He couldn’t remember Michael mentioning why his sister was here; just that she would be around for a while. He could jump to conclusions and assumptions. A visit finally due after years of evading the city. Needing a favor. Missing her brother. None seemed plausible enough to bring the ever unattainable woman to a standstill in a city she seemingly hated and avoided at all costs. She had travelled the world; studied abroad and backpacked through countries Calum had only ever flew over or saw through airport windows. Yet she steered clear of the place Michael had made a home. And evidentially, that meant she steered clear of Calum.

“A wedding. It’s actually in Vegas but I knew I’d catch hell if I came all this way and didn’t pay him a visit,” she explained and Calum could sense tension in her words.

He’d settle for that explanation; for now. It was thin and terse and he could tell there was much more to it than that. But he was never one for pushing. Time would do the telling much easier than she would. Or Michael, possibly, if Calum asked in the right way. The mood was darkening in a way he didn’t want; a frown cutting across her face as they sat in silence for a moment.

“You didn’t tell me you’re getting married,” Calum joked, hoping his words would lighten the conversation.

He was rewarded when she laughed, but it was all taken back when she sobered and an unknown sadness captured her eyes. It was fleeting; there and gone in an instant. Shying away from the not okay as she reeled herself back in from scattered patterns of shadows.

“Not my wedding,” she said with a slight eye roll and smile; an attempt to follow his lead of lighting up the mood. “It’s pathetic enough I’m showing up to this wedding by myself. Be even worse if I was alone at my wedding. It’s too bad I don’t even have a friend to go with me.”

Calum let out a sarcastic huff and tried to ignore the speculative gaze she now looked at him with. When she didn’t look away and he could see the gears turning—already knowing the thoughts playing in her mind from just one look—he began to shake his head.

“No,” he said before she could say anything else. “No, I’m not gonna be your date.”

The words felt heavy. Heavy enough to sink to the bottom of his stomach and churn. Heavy enough to make him look away from her pleading gaze.

“Oh come on,” she said, voice verging on cracking. “I never ask you for anything.”

“I never ask you for anything either. It’s worked so far. Let’s keep it that way,” he said, words quick to defend his no though his mind wasn’t so sure about it.

When she went silent Calum felt a pull to turn back, heart heavier and faster in its rhythmic beats. Her eyes were now downcast, hands in the grass as fingers tugged on blades and slow breaths escaped her. He was almost certain she was calming herself, as if the situation was enough to make her cry. To make her not okay. Calum felt himself regretting his no as she looked up at him with shining eyes. He stole himself and licked his lips.

“Why don’t you ask Ashton? He likes Vegas.”

“He’s busy,” Arden mumbled and Calum gave her an incredulous look.

“So I’m just your back up then?” He feigned outrage but dropped the act when she seemingly didn’t want to play along.

“I figured you’d say no. I was stupid to even mention it,” she said, trying to wave away the situation as she leaned back against the house, finding the stars once more. “It’d just be nice to have someone I’m comfortable with there. A little moral support.”

“It’s just a wedding, Arden, you’ll be fine,” Calum murmured though he wasn’t sure of his own words.

He’d never seen her like this before. Admittedly, he didn’t spend much time with her alone, ever, but of the memories he was bringing back in none held such weighted words and somber tones. Arden shook her head and emptied her hands of the grass she had pulled up. They drifted off in a sudden breeze and Calum pulled his jacket a bit tighter around him. The night air was cool and he wondered how Arden was fairing in a tank top.

“It’s just a wedding, you’ll be fine,” she repeated and grabbed for her bottle but dropped it when she remembered it was empty. “You try saying that when the ones getting married are your best friend and your ex.”

Calum’s heart sank and stomach twisted; the revelation hitting him hard. He couldn’t imagine that, couldn’t fathom what she must be feeling. She turned back to him and bit her lip.

“Don’t go,” Calum suggested but he knew it would fall on deaf ears.

“That’d be worse than showing up alone.”

“Bring Michael,” he said and even he couldn’t hold back laughter.

“You really just want to embarrass me, huh?” She asked with blazing cheeks and a disapproving shake of the head. “The only thing worse than showing up alone or not showing up at all is showing up with a sibling. I’ll just go by myself.”

They lapsed into silence and Calum took a moment to think, to feel, to see things from her perspective. She went motionless; no wiggle of her feet, no picking at threads or plucking at blades of grass. Her gaze left him and focused on the fence separating property lines in front of them. His heart was pounding hard and fast, eyes burning at just the thought of her situation. Of Arden having to face all of that alone. Of being the one to let her down. His mind was already made up when she spoke again.

“You know, the reception has an open bar. And it’s Vegas. We can ditch as soon as possible; go gamble or drink our woes away.”

“You had me at the open bar,” Calum said though that was a lie. She had him with her glossy eyes and a truth that must have been painful to admit. “As long as Michael’s okay with it.”

Arden smiled, the woes already washing away and being replaced by shining stars twinkling in her eyes. She leaned in closer, barely a breath away.

“Thank you,” her lips nearly brushed his cheek as her whisper carried to him.

Calum warmed at the almost kiss and watched as she slowly stood, eyes searching the remnants of the party. In their conversation more people had fled, the music had been low to begin with but was nonexistent by the time Calum was pulled back.

“I’ll go tell Michael now,” she decided and began to take off in search of him, but turned back to Calum with a smirk. “We leave tomorrow. At five.”

Calum let out a breath and watched her go. He’d be ready. Waiting. Curious and taken by his best friend’s sister’s sudden reappearance and the mysteries that followed her. She’d been evasive for years, as soon as the band took off so did she. Keeping her distance and the answers to mysteries with her.

***

“I don’t know how you suckered me into not only going, but into driving,” Calum mumbled as he switched lanes.

They’d been in the car a while already but the situation was still perplexing to Calum. The road to Vegas wasn’t long in retrospect; for all the time he spent in tour busses and on planes a four hour drive was minimal. But, he was still dumbfounded at the fact he was behind the wheel. Arden’s art of persuasion had grown in the years they were apart.

“I don’t know my way out of California,” she offered and Calum could see from the corner of his eye the way she stretched out in her seat, legs wiggling in her attempt to get comfortable. ”Besides, we’re in Michael’s Tesla, it’s not like you really have to drive if you don’t want to.”

“I still have to be alert and in control. I don’t trust self driving cars,” Calum rebutted and then thought for a moment, a new question suddenly striking him. “If it wasn’t enough you got me to drive, how the hell did you get Michael to let us take his car?”

Calum spared a complete glance her way for just a second, just to see the smile on her face and the way her nose scrunched up.

“Laid the sweetness on thick. Begged, even. Said I’d tell mum on him,” she answered with a giggle.

“You did not.” Calum bellowed out a laugh, suddenly transported to a time where that threat was very real.

If Michael wouldn’t let her play video games with them. If they teased her just a little too much. Got caught spying or reading her journal. A threat of telling always followed. Sometimes tears, but always a threat.

“No. He was nice enough to say yes after a little bit of a puppy dog pout and about thirty minutes of begging.”

Calum straightened and tapped his fingers on the console. “You know I have a car we could’ve taken.”

“Sure,” she said quickly and clipped. “But it’s not as cool as a Tesla.”

“My car is cool,” Calum defended with a staunch expression.

Arden reached over and patted his hand lightly, as if comfortingly, the contact a bit odd; hardly ever having been so casual in those encounters. Not since an almost brush of her lips against his cheek as a thank you last night. And rarely before that.

“Whatever you say.”

The rest of the drive was quiet between them even though Calum had hundreds of questions filtering through his thoughts. He didn’t want to ask when his focus was on the road. He wanted to be able to fully gauge her reactions to them, note if her eyes averted his gaze or her words were tight and said between her teeth. He wanted to know the truths. So instead they listened to music. Her playlist was moody; darker themes carrying the lyrics and heavy instrumentation creating the songs. He felt that maybe there was something to understand there. He often found that music spoke louder than words.

By the time they got to the hotel exhaustion from the drive was winning over. Calum was able to secure his own room last minute; coincidentally and perhaps luckily, across the hall from Arden. With another odd form of contact—an unsure hug that lasted mere seconds—they bid each other good night. Calum stumbled into his room, peeled off his pants and shirt and fell into bed; half dreading the next day and half anticipating his time with Arden. It took him a while to fall asleep, usually he knocked out as soon as his head hit the pillow. But there were too many thoughts and memories swirling through his mind.

Morning came in a rush. It took Calum no time at all to get ready for the wedding; merely showering and throwing on a suit. He wandered across the hall when he was done, wondering if Arden could use some company while she got ready, wondering if she might answer his questions in the meantime. The door swung open after the first knock. Arden stood before him in a bathrobe, hair in a towel and face clean of makeup.

“You’re not even close to being ready, are you?” Calum asked as she moved aside to let him in.

“Ten minutes,” she declared and shut the door before stalking off to the attached bathroom.

Calum was fully prepared for ten minutes to be twenty or thirty or even an hour. He couldn’t ask questions between the walls of the hotel and the obnoxious noise of an old hair dryer blasting on what he assumed was high. He was settled into a chair shoved in the corner, the muted curtains dominating the wall were pulled open just enough for some natural light to spill through and play against the patterns on the carpet. Before Calum could pull his phone out to kill time the hair dryer was shut off and Arden came stalking through the room, headed for her bag on the bed. She was quick in grabbing what she needed; a pair of shoes and something else Calum couldn’t quite make out. Her hair was dry and fell softly down her back; chestnut brown lightening from the sun. Arden looked over at Calum, a bite of a smirk on her lips as she backed away from her bag.

“Five minutes,” she updated with a promise and now Calum was apt to believe her.

When five minutes blew by and all was silent Calum stood from his chair; curious if five was turning to ten. He approached the bathroom door slowly; it was wide open and Arden stood dressed and ready. A red silk dress was heavenly against her skin and Calum wondered if maybe it was too much for a wedding; surely upstaging the bride—but then, for a moment, he considered that no matter what she wore no one else would compare. The dress was short but the Vegas heat provided reason for that. Her hair was now up but loose tendrils framed her face. Painted red lips were quivering and her face had gone flush; hands gripped the lip of the counter so tight her knuckles were visibly whitening. She looked up and caught Calum’s eye in the mirror; detached herself from the counter and moved to him with stiff motions.

“I’m ready,” she whispered with tight words and now shaking hands.

Calum wasn’t sure what led him to placing his hands on her shoulders—another form of touch they had never been comfortable enough to do—or why it was starting to feel so natural. He didn’t understand the way she responded, letting out a breath as if her worries were easing. Only when she locked gazes with him did he speak up and realize how hard this truly was for her.

“You know, we don’t have to go if you aren’t okay,” Calum offered; his sincerity on his sleeve and in his gaze.

Arden shook her head. “No, no. I’m fine. Just a little nervous; I didn’t drag you all the way out here for nothing.”

“Well, it is Vegas. We could just go gamble or drink,” Calum repeated her words back near verbatim and it earned him a smile.

“After,” she said with a decisive head nod and moved away from Calum’s touch and to the door.

He watched her turn her confidence on as they walked to the chapel and then saw it crash and plummet upon entering and having to decide between the bride or groom’s side. Posing as her date left the opportunity to hold her hand open; to give her some comfort while being authentic and playing the part. Her palm was warm and her fingers gave him an appreciative squeeze, and while Calum didn’t notice during that particular moment he responded by running his thumb along the back of her hand soothingly. As if by instinct.

“Guess we’ll go to Viv’s side, at least she didn’t dump me,” Arden mumbled and Calum felt shock tingle up his spine as she led the way to a pair of seats.

The mysteries of Arden’s past were presenting themselves in small offhanded sentences. In queried answers that were tight and hard to swallow. It was almost as if the more Calum found out the less he wanted to know. Yet he needed to; he needed to figure out the okays and not so okays.

Through the ceremony Calum’s gaze kept wandering over to Arden; noting the way she shifted uncomfortably, letting her whisper in his ear as the bridal court walked down the aisle. Her whisper of at least she didn’t ask me to be a bridesmaid, those dresses are hideous making him smirk as he knew she was attempting to cover her pain with humor. He kept his hand in hers and although they’d never done something such as that—possibly the closest being a high five as kids—it felt almost normal as time passed. And in the midst of the vows; generic words that made Calum roll his eyes, he realized there was more to Arden’s world than he realized. He couldn’t picture her ever dating the man at the altar. Simply put, and only ever said in Calum’s mind, he looked like a douche. Like his name was Chad or Justin or something of the sort. The ceremony became a blur to Calum by the time they were at the reception; the promise of an open bar looming past the dance floor.

If Calum hadn’t been holding Arden’s hand he would have lost her in the crowd. She moved with graceful steps past people in their way. The venue was dark but lit with flashing lights. It felt more like a house party than a wedding reception to Calum but the loud drone of music drowned out the chatter of people he didn’t know. The dark provided an escape for Arden as she managed to wrangle them through the crowd and into the shadows. They stopped just short of the bar, tucked into a corner where eyes couldn’t find them and she could catch her breath. Calum could sense it was becoming harder for her, that the ceremony had done her in and the first dance was more than enough to keep her there.

“Want to dance?” Calum asked before he even knew the words were in his mind. His hand was held out to her and in the moment he rationalized it would be a good distraction. Arden bit her lip as she contemplated.

“I didn’t think you were one for dancing,” she said but took his hand nonetheless.

“Guess you don’t really know me.”

“Not anymore,” Arden said and Calum felt the weight of those words.

As he pulled her closer and onto the dance floor the distance they’d had between them for years became more apparent. They were never particularly close growing up, but they’d been in each other’s orbits long enough to know one another. He realized in a mournful way the Calum she knew was still a shy teenager with dreams bigger than his mind could allow at the time. She knew someone who was uncertain and still trying to find a path to follow. A boy with a choice and no right or wrong answers. And he knew her to keep eye contact with volition but blush at the drop of a dime. Teeming with wanderlust but having nowhere to go. A girl with too many contradictions. Time had changed them and any fragment of what they once knew had blown away in years worth of winds.

The music had shifted to something slower, the lights easing with the song to glows scattered across the floor. Calum’s hands settled around her waist; with a light touch and questioning look to ask if it was okay. She communicated that it was by settling her hands on his shoulders. They found a rhythmic sway to the music even though their bodies were a bit stiff at another new form of contact. It took a few moments to warm up and relax. Calum explored her eyes, how dark they were against the glare of white lights. He had questions and now—while they were so close—seemed the best time to start asking.

“When did you even meet them?” He asked, referring to Viv and Chad or Justin or whatever his name was.

A timid and sorrowful smile captured Arden’s lips. He hoped the question wasn’t too much, wanting to avoid another glossy eyed or white knuckled incident. She sighed and Calum felt her hold on his shoulders shift slightly but stay present. He expected her to drop her hold, to fall into silence or turn and walk away. Arden was full of surprises.

“When I was studying abroad. Viv was my roommate and at the time my best friend. I dated Brett until my second year,” she explained.

Brett Calum mused, somehow, that was even worse than being a Chad or a Justin. He realized she kept the details to a minimum but held eye contact; Calum knowing it was the truth. A small bit of the truth that left more questions circling his mind but he was patient; willing to wait for her, knowing there was more than meets the eye.

Arden’s lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed as she thought back to a time he really didn’t understand. Her eyes were contemplative and Calum found himself diving back into them. Her gaze flickered and the lighting played against deep hazel and made it nearly golden for just a moment. He noted the way she squinted when lost in thought and was floored at the sudden panic that captured her now frantic stare. Her line of sight was past his shoulder. It had him turning, catching the bride and groom passing by. It must have been shocking for her; speaking of them in small and painful fragmented words in a world where their lives were intertwined. And now she was an outcast; seeing her old best friend in white with her ex at her side—looking as happy as a couple could be. Without thinking, without inhibitions, he pulled her closer and without hesitation she reciprocated; tucked her head against his chest and let her arms slide down and wrap around him. He felt her body ease against his, could almost hear the breath escaping her over the boom of the music.

Calum’s heart was racing, body buzzing and electrified but the world was in slow motion. The sound of the music faded and all he could hear was the thump of his heartbeat; wondered if she could hear it too. Surely, with her head to his heart she could hear and feel it as well. He chalked it up to the moment. Everything was just a little bit too much. The song was too slow and the lights were too dim and they were too close. The moment was too intimate and it left his reactions skewed. He was susceptible to the influence of everything around them. That’s what he told himself when his hands found the small of her back and his head dipped down, an intoxicating and now familiar scent of honey and peaches finding its way to him.

Arden pulled back and looked up. The heels she wore put them nearly at eye level. And once again Calum found himself moving without thinking, pushing a strand of fallen hair behind her ear and letting his fingers linger and trace down her jawline. She was quiet but Calum swore she moved into his touch. The thought of who they were and who they are entered his mind but it was fleeting. Titles such as best friend’s sister became meaningless in a darkened moment with minimal space between them. This time, with nothing but thoughts accompanying his movements Calum leaned forward; painstakingly slowly with minute movements, giving Arden time to think as well. Maybe his thoughts weren’t all together and rational and maybe he was under the influence of their surroundings and maybe she was too close for any other thought to break through. There were a lot of maybes that made up the moment she closed the distance and red lip stain graced Calum’s lips. It was demure and brief but somehow Calum felt audacious and that time itself had stopped to allow it. His mind was spinning with senses of Arden he’d never known before. She tasted of sugar and left him in an airy free fall.

All too soon it was over. Calum cleared his throat and Arden blinked rapidly. They both came back to reality and a silent understanding of it never happened and it doesn’t count—both separately convinced of the influence of the atmosphere—settled between them. Arden went back to resting her head against his chest and Calum’s hold drifted back down. The music had picked up in tempo but another understanding of we’re fine the way we are slowed the music and the world and with eyes closed the flashing lights didn’t matter. Calum still felt like he was falling; completely winded and not sure he’d ever land or what would be waiting for him if he did. He found himself lost in the moment and sifting through memories; moments in which Michael had mentioned Arden in the years he hadn’t seen her. He was trying to piece her together and hold them together, another sorrowful feeling tugging at his chest as he realized all of the circumstances. That little title in his mind ringing alarm bells he found jolting. He drowned them out in favor of pulling her just a bit closer.

The music cut out and the world made room for a bridal tradition that had Arden on edge. Her grip on Calum tightened at the announcement and a nervous bounce had her shifting weight from leg to leg. In a matter of moments the bouquet would go flying and land in the hands of the person to be married next. A crowd formed around the bride and Arden looked away.

“How about… we go get a drink,” Calum suggested, wanting to take her away from the scene unfolding before them. Wanting to mend whatever pain and heartache she may be feeling.

She nodded.

“How about two? And then we leave.”

Calum followed her lead, quick steps carrying them away from the situation. He heard the drop. Turned to see a bouquet of flowers landed where their feet had been moments ago; Arden luckily oblivious to the unlikely affair. He turned and picked up their pace, wanting to avoid the rush of people trying to find the tradition. Wanting to put plenty of distance between them and falling flowers.

<< >>

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teagrl · 3 years ago

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I wrote a bunch of (lightsaber-related) flashbacks for Heart of the Blade that I defenestrated because my pacing was and is still a work in progress (as it always is introspective stuff killmewhydoIfuckingwritethisshit). Anyway, this is one of them. Placement is right after Jade Solitaire before the Winning Gamble is christened as the Jade’s Fire. Idk when that happens and since I cut this I don’t intend to excavate details.

“It doesn’t turn on?” Tionne echoed, a puzzled look on her face through the comm.

“No, I checked everything and looked through the specs that I got ages ago –archive nern esk–”

Her confused expression didn’t lift. Somehow Mara thought it wasn’t just about the lightsaber. She didn’t routinely comm Tionne. “Did you use it underwater?”

“I didn’t, and even if I had, it’s got a bifurcating cyclical-ignition pulse.”

Tionne blinked at her. “Maybe you should talk to Luke about it. He’s–”

“I don’t want to bother him with something this trivial.” So he could think that if she’d stayed in the Praxeum she wouldn’t have this problem to begin with? “I can solve it myself, I just needed to know if there were more lightsaber files anywhere else.”

“Not technical files, and seems like it’d just be faster to ask Luke. It was his old lightsaber, no?”

Mara felt her lips tighten. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll ask him then. Thanks.” She closed the line and looked at her nav. In a few minutes she’d take to hyperspace so if she was going to comm Luke, she had to do it now.

Settling her shoulders she punched in his personal comm code. The comm sounded and sounded without an answer. Finally she closed the line. She should have asked Tionne what he’d been up to or if he’d changed the code.

The nav beeped and it didn’t matter. She pulled the <i>Winning Gamble’s</i> hyperdive lever. First she’d almost lost the lightsaber and now this. Starlines whirled around her as she groped for her datapad, pulled up the specs, yet again.

The power cell, it came to her as she reread through the files. They were supposed to last near a century, but as it so happened, passing from Anakin Skywalker’s hand to Luke’s had to have the shortened the cell’s lifespan by half, or more. Easily solvable, she thought with satisfaction. She went for her tools. She hadn’t even had to tell Luke.

#mara jade #my fic

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sambinnie · 4 years ago

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1. Happy Mabon! Every autumn, I forget that the darkness comes clanging down in a great rush in the mornings. One day, I am greeted by a pinking sunrise. 48 hours later, it’s so dark on my run to the river that I have to stop a passing runner and check the time, in case my disturbed sleep sent me dressing and leaving the house at 2am. This summer may not have given us those mornings where it’s so hot I can barely get out of the water, where those early hours feel like full silent days carved out just for me to sit in the light and wait for everyone else to wake up, where the only extra thing I put on to run home is my trainers — I look at my waiting winter gear, neoprene socks and gloves, head torch, two more thickening jumpers, hat, thermal mittens — but every season, every day, is beautiful.

Today we go early for celebrations, and the water is silky, and Orion hangs over us with his phallic sword dangling and Betelgeuse winking on one shoulder. The near-full moon spotlights us and I feel almost ready for the shortening days.

2. Hilary Mantel continues to be a literary god. How does she write with that clarity? How can I ever speak with her calm good sense and wit?

3. We have two main problems at the moment, as far as I can see. a) What we’re doing (“curating” our lives; twitter spats; purity spirals; division and isolation; wanting ‘debates’ that can only be won or lost; encouraging people to buy more things; trying to buy our happiness; letting marketers tell us how we feel about the world rather than encouraging major moral lessons from throughout the ages to challenge us on our weaknesses; refusing to accept that life is suffering; asking self-care to be a plaster for everything we don’t have) and b) what we’re not doing (joining together to stand against those with more money and power; protecting the people who have even less power and voice than we do as a matter of course; learning from history; protecting nature above all else; prioritising going for walks; learning to repair things and campaigning to make things repairable; having a basic belief in human dignity for all, not just those with whom we agree; accepting that truly, we are all different and no amount of shaming or disgust will change that; working to shape our societies, culture, economies, production, food supplies and communications around improving — not just sustaining — the air, water and land, and fighting to ensure all of those new shapes protect women and children).

Individualism has morphed into something so completely self-destructive that we’ve forgotten we need nature more than anything — literally, more than anything — and we need to unionise and unite and put aside differences and work together even with people we don’t like.

Because when there are wicked people in power, when it’s genuinely exhausting to think about all the corrupt, venal, toxic, divisive, false, and cruel things they have done since coming to power, those people love to watch everyone below pointing their fingers at one another, saying, You, You’re The Enemy, You’re The Problem, while corrupt populist leaders rub their bellies and chuckle at another promise broken, another mass death on their hands, another building site on a protected forest. Do you understand the stakes here? Do you understand that it’s actual survival? It’s not about being right any more, it’s not about besting someone in the argument. It’s about having decision makers who can not only ensure there is still food to eat and air to breathe, but that relations both within a country and between countries are built on care, and support, and compassion, and believing in human dignity. And while it sounds wishy-washy and hands-clappy it’s the schmaltzy, sentimental truth. It’s the only one, really.

If we instead continue to believe every single day that my feelings are the most important, that my beliefs are the right ones, that I’ve got to prove those baddies there are evil and awful and wrong, then honestly, what the fuck? If we’re happy to live in a country where hostile architecture is the starting point for all public builds, where we send refugee boats away from our shores, where affiliate links are a career goal, where we haven’t stormed the Daily Mail offices with accounts of all our lovely immigrant friends and family and had a huge feast together and compared our long and tangled family trees, then come on. It’s only a race to the bottom if we all keep running.

Because, pressingly, whatever the spark of a major global conflict — assassination, fuel shortages, hyperinflation, invasion — the kindling is almost always a populace fed pure hatred for months, for years, until they can’t even taste it anymore but are ready to spew it out again, and are ready to use another populace as the receptacle. And hatred is brewed up in silence and isolation, and in the ashes of bridges burned between disparate groups.

And on that note, I’m not a conspiracy theorist, mainly because I don’t believe governments are generally competent enough to manage Grand Plans, but it’s annoying that technology and social trends and culture have developed in such a way that no one knocks on anyone’s door for a chat as a matter of course now, that it’s a given that a ringing phone triggers anxiety, that it’s not the norm for cups of tea with your neighbours, that we don’t know each other’s neighbourhoods, that we don’t even talk on the phone, with live words and intonation and synchronised laughter, but in text, in WhatsApp chats, in tapped out words and symbols that we know can be screen-grabbed and misinterpreted, that we know are kept, filtered and sold by the tech companies. It’s not a conspiracy. It’s just a reality that every single one of us can choose to do differently.

Sometimes exactly the right thing comes along at the right time. All of us here watched About a Boy at the weekend, a film which is so wonkily weighted and oddly rhythmed, but a perfect depiction of everything I’m banging on about here. Hugh Grant’s character likes being alone. He’s happy that way. It suits him. It’s his choice. Then, between one thing and another, he finds himself drawn into a world of a suicidal single mother, a duck-murdering young boy, more single mothers, more tricky teens, plus exes and mothers-in-law and awkward support groups. And it turns out that actually, being with people is better. Being uncomfortable often develops you as a person. Constantly prioritising only yourself produces a waxen, pointless baby. Making shared sacrifices might just be the point of being alive. Remember that to be human is to be flawed. That no one is ever completely right, and no one is ever completely wrong. That the boring stuff makes us feel good, and the glossy stuff, if all we strive for is gloss, doesn’t.

If you want anything practical, here are the things that have really helped me over the last few years:

Writing a letter or email regularly to my MP, to CEOs of organisations, to anyone I want to communicate my strong feelings and how I’d like things to be done better. Tweeting eats your soul. It’s a horrible myth the media pretends is important. It really, really isn’t.

Inviting people to go in front of me in queues, in traffic, getting on to buses and trains. It lowers my stress levels right down.

Learning the names of my neighbours and people I meet regularly on walks and letting them learn mine. (I definitely haven’t just decided I loathe a neighbour because they cut a bird-hatching tree down in their garden on the last day of the year it was legal to do so. It’s fine.)

Joining a few political parties, and the closest thing I have to a union

Making something, anything — everything can be done with love, and learning to not get sucked into the capitalist conceit of having to make it perfect, sellable, exhibitable is a genuine gift to yourself; making a cake or a film or a coaster and not putting it on social media, letting it be ugly or serviceless and loving it anyway. I felt extremely overwhelmed the other evening, but instead of doom-scrolling I knitted a… I don’t know, something flat and woollen, and it helped to have my hands and eyes working on directionless introspective creation.

Trying to stop hating. Every time I want to tell a negative story in my head about someone, I attempt to turn it into something positive: how unhappy that person must be, what they must be missing out on. It’s so nauseatingly Pollyanna-ish, and of course it isn’t always successful, and of course every single day brings a hundred thousand examples of cruelty and injustice and wickedness, but the alternative only makes my life feel worse, so why would I indulge that?

Teaching myself the names of birds, trees, flowers, clouds and constellations. I’m still at the most basic levels on all of these, but the difference one feels in the world when you can name things — let alone use them and know their stories — is a very real sort of magic. (For that reason I hope to read this book very soon.) This episode of The Cut is also good on the wonder and power of learning the names of the weeds that grow in your nearest pavement crack.

4. Creating anything is always a gamble, isn’t it, but writing a book you actually like for once and seeing it slowly and beautifully sink to the bottom of a river never to be seen again is ever so slightly crushing. However, it turns out even Thom Yorke feels that way, so I am comforted.

5. I’m sure I’ve mentioned plenty of these before, but if you want some suggestions of where to find joy, here are my favourites from the last year or so:

I was given Lucy Easthope’s book, When the Dust Settles, for work recently, and I was surprised and delighted to discover the most uplifting, hopeful, human and rightfully angry book I’ve read in a long time. Do yourself a favour and preorder it. I bought this other book for my own birthday, gave it to a housemate to give to me, forgot about it, and was delighted to later unwrap He Used Thought As A Wife. Laughed a lot, cried twice. Marvellous.

Now even the youngest housemate here can recite John Finnemore sketches and sing the songs. Has also taught them various composers, gods, logical fallacies and gothic story tropes. Also v funny. Oh, Kate Beaton! Her two books (Hark! A Vagrant and Step Aside Pops) are a bit like a comic-book version of Finnemore, but swearier and sexier and utterly unsuitable for all the housemates who have read it and been educated about the Brontes, Katherine Sui Fun Cheung, Tom Longboat, Nancy Drew, Ida B. Wells, Sacagawea, and the Borgias.

Had to give Inside a restraining order against me for the sake of us all, but Bo Burnham’s Eighth Grade is a masterpiece of writing, acting, sound design and optimism. Spy is dumb action comedy polished to perfection, and Yasujirō Ozu’s Good Morning seems like the inspiration for almost all US arthouse films since 1990, and is also beautiful, funny, thoughtful, and good.

Taylor Swift’s Evermore, like all brilliant albums, isn’t completely perfect. But most of the songs are. And Hole’s classic Live Through This is still just ideal for turning up very, very loud after a tricky day, for the enjoyment of any neighbours who may have hacked down a bird-friendly tree on the last day of February.

Watched both series of Liam Williams’ Ladhood when I had a week off this summer, and really relished the location, the intention, and the writing. More please.

Miles Jupp and Justin Edwards continue to be my comforting bedtime listening in In and Out of the Kitchen. Has it ruined Nigel Slater for me? Well, a bit, but no more than any of us deserved.

I thought this would be a book I’d mumble through the first chapter of, then let get buried in my To Read pile, never to re-open. Instead, I found Whatever Happened to Margo? laugh-out-loud funny, drily written, and full of humanity. Excellent Women has made me want to read everything written by Barbara Pym, a goal I am slowly but surely working towards.

6. I’ve spent the last few years trying to find hazelnut trees, and finally found a copse between a car park and a play area, full of nuts the squirrels hadn’t noticed. Now I’ve found them, the spell has been cast and I see hazel trees everywhere, on walks and on pavements and running along motorway slip roads. A tray of green and brown frilled hazelnuts now dries with the laundry. They are so beautiful.

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abitscripturient · 5 years ago

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February

1. What is your character's favorite beverage? Screwdriver

2. What is your character's least favorite food? Any kind of squash. She thinks it’s too bland tasting.

3. What does the color blue make your character think of? How does it make her feel? When Seren sees blue it reminds her of the Sentinels’ flag colors and she feels proud seeing it.

4. How does your character feel when she visits someone in the hospital (or other major medical facility)? She feels horrible for them and she feels angry that she couldn’t protect them. Especially if they are a Sentinel member.

5. Has your character ever had surgery (or other major medical treatment)? Once. When she got shot with the bullet that rendered her serums useless. She had surgery to get the bullet out of her body.

6. Does your character gamble? Is she good at it? Gambling was a huge part of Seren’s life before she became Fugitive status. She was a pretty decent player, racking up wins for her Price of Freedom. After joining the Sentinels, she only gambled for fun.

7. Does your character know how to swim? Fighting she’s a pro at, swimming she is not. Seren knows basic things when it comes to it.

8. How does your character feel about large bodies of water? She loves seeing them since it’s a rarity to see them in Relic City.

9. Does your character have any phobias? What are they and how intense are they? How have they impacted her life? It’s silly but sometimes she gets afraid of men that are built like or look like Commander Dexter. Then she gets over it and kills them.

10. What does the color purple make your character think of? How does it make her feel? Tora since she always wore that color. Before the assassination, she loved seeing Tora in it made her seem regal. Now, she feels melancholy.

11. Your character lies on her back on a summer day and looks up at the clouds. What images does he see in their shapes? She barely had time to look at clouds and she sees stars more.

12. A terrible crime has been committed, and evidence points to your character's guilt. She didn't commit the crime, but she doesn't have an immediate way to prove it. What does she do? She would be wary to trust and she would keep close to Graven, Laz or AJ until they can find a way to prove her innocence.

13. Your character witnesses a terrible crime being committed, and he sees the perpetrator's face. He also knows that the perpetrator has friends in high places. What does he do? Seren would probably try to dispose of said person as long as they are in a remote area away from the hideout or Relic City.

14. Your character sees someone get hit by a car; they're still alive but obviously badly injured. No one else is nearby to help. What does she do? There aren’t as many doctors as there were back then in Relic City so Seren would at least try her best to keep the person from bleeding out depending on the severity of the wounds. If it’s a lost cause then she keeps the person calm until they pass.

15. What is your character's favorite piece of clothing? Her knee-high boots or her cream long-sleeved sweater dress.

16. How does your character dress on a typical day? It’s always something she can move or fight in as well as something that has sex appeal. She likes to keep Graven interested in her body as much as possible. Not that it’s needed.

17. What is your character's earliest clear memory? Her waking up in a hospital at the age of six.

18. How well can your character defend herself in a fight? Has she ever had to? Seren has been trained in many forms of martial arts for the act of cage fighting. Her brain has been retrained and though the urge has died down, instinct still tells her to fight to the death.

19. Is your character introspective? When she has time to be. Usually, she thinks about herself when she’s waking off from serum recoveries.

20. How opinionated is your character? Does he like to share those opinions with others or keep them to himself? Seren is known for being half and half. She loves to listen to situations quietly but when it’s something she’s passionate about, she will voice herself.

21. Is your character confident or overconfident? Does he lack confidence? Seren can be very confident especially when it comes to fighting. She knows her skills and analyzes her opponent the first chance she gets. She has been known from time to time to be overconfident though and usually that results in failures.

22. What hobby or side interest is most important to your character? Martial arts training.

23. Open your character's wallet, purse, or briefcase. What do you find? When Seren does bring her backpack with her, she usually has her claws, her serums and some high energy snacks. If there are important documents, she keeps them in there as well.

24. Open up your character's drawers or wardrobe and describe what you find inside. She does’t really have drawers, more like containers of mix matched clothing.

25. What does your character's bedroom typically look like? It’s pretty simple. Stone furniture looking like something straight out of the Flintstones, simple black white or beige colors.

26. What style of furniture does your character prefer? Comfortable beds

27. What style of furniture would your character never purchase? Any kind of country chic kind of stuff or girly stuff

28. Your character moves into a new home. What's the first thing he buys for it? A bed for when her restoration days are upon her

#series: soramerica #char: seren marciano #365 questions #character building

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aleatoryalarmalligator · 7 years ago

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Life Story 103

David let Roxanne in to the apartment one evening. She was about to turn herself in, and there was nothing in the house to steal. She looked terrible. Meth had really done a number on her. Bounty hunters were on her tail too. She had all kinds of legal action mounting against her from all the times she had been caught shoplifting from Walmart and K Mart. Sagen was also in deep, though being a minor she wasn't being hunted by bounty hunters quite as extensively.

Roxanne was tired of running. The thing of it too was, Roxanne was reckless among her other drug people, it was just how the meth made her act. She was a liability to everyone she knew who used with her or sold to her. A bigger and somewhat dangerous crowd of drug dealers and peddlers from Spokane had become her new gang of people, and when these people pissed her off, she threatened to turn herself and them in for the sake of proving a point. She was crazy, and people were afraid to sell to her anymore. Someone could have hurt her. So she was sitting in the back room, and she had planned on spending one night to get clean, and then taking herself to the police station the next morning. She knew she was gambling with her life, that she had hit a point where if she kept going she would never get better. She missed her children. As she was sitting there, I guess she had been watched and followed by some bounty hunters go into my mother's apartment. They suddenly burst through the back door and dragged her out, cuffed her, and from then until Christmas, Roxanne was behind bars. It was a huge relief, and maybe one of the best things that ever happened to Roxanne. We knew she wasn't dead. And she was going to have to stay sober for a time – and though there were going to be consequences for what she had done, we knew Roxanne was resourceful and scrappy and most importantly we wouldn't have to worry about being stolen from, or about her dying anymore.

Whitney ended up getting a job at Zany's. She didn't have work, and she wasn't really looking and the whole thing came about suddenly. Allison, Sarah, me and Whitney went to eat at Zany's. Back in those days I used to order a milkshake and nachos which were enormous (I love Nachos). We were sitting in a booth eating, when Patrice (my old boss) came up, asked Whitney to smile, and then make stink eye, told her she liked her look and that she was hired. Patrice was random in how she chose people for Zany's. So from then on, Whitney, me and Sarah all worked at Zany's. Whitney of course, would be part of the exclusive front staff with Sarah. I was kitchen.

Those first weeks living with Josh were some of the weirdest days of my life, and it's hard to describe just how. I guess I was so thoroughly used to the mode of living with my own family. I didn't have any footing. I felt blank and hollow, like someone had carved out my thoughts and left space for someone new. It was probably good for me though. The kind of hysteric and sad nights I had at my mother's didn't follow me in the same way at Josh's. Josh and Whitney had different ways of seeing things and doing things – and when I was taken out of my old environment it became much clearer to me that there were many things about myself that I had thought were solid truths about myself, but were in fact only temporal facets of my coping mechanisms for survival. My sense of humor stayed, my aesthetic was essentially the same. But my assumptions changed, and it had a lot to do with Josh.

Josh I learned, was extremely habitual. He went to work five days a week as a cableman. He went to work at eight and he came home at five. He parked his cable truck in front of his apartment. I could hear him pull up – it was very predictable. Then he went into the house, ate some cheap meal and take a gross nap, shower, and he then watched The Daily Show with Jon Stewart and The Colbert Report, and sometimes a movie. He had free cable and free high speed internet through his work and this included all the movie channels people traditionally pay for. A lot of his life was based around his habits. And I guess it made sense. Before taking this job, before having his own place, he was essentially homeless, and with bipolar, it's very difficult to trust your whimsies. His personality wasn't all that grounded. He could be rather repetitive, but he was probably one of the least grounded people I had ever met. His responses to life were intriguing to me. He didn't respond to challenges, or get sad the same way other people did. He played games with himself. He was always in a state of experimentation. Much of the time he seemed overwhelmed by things that weren't actually happening. He felt the need to be reborn, or to see himself in higher regard than those around him. At times he was painfully blind, but at other moments he was very introspective about human nature. He was always scheming – to the point that you had to wonder eventually what his reasoning was, or if he was delusional. And through all of it, he was extremely witty. Even when he was wrong, even when he was being petty and self important, or pointless, he was extremely funny and had a strange humility about himself that was very dark and at times sad.

Josh talked to me in a way that nobody else ever really had before, good and bad. He asked me questions about myself that I hadn't thought about. It made me nervous at first, and somewhere between fascinated, embarrassed and afraid. I just listened, hiding inside behind a wall of anxiety half the time. He seemed to really care about me, and Allison and Sarah. He wanted to know how we operated. He didn't have boundaries and wasn't as taken in by the simplicity that was very typical of my understanding of what most people – men in particular, expected from people. And it was a shock at times to listen to him talk, or to have very revealing questions asked towards me. It was extremely intimate. It probably intensified the situation that I hadn't have a lot of exposure to different kinds of people. Sure, I worked with a motley crew of different characters, grew up with my crazy family members, but I was always somewhat distant to people outside of Sarah, and my family, though complex in the factor of keeping up, at heart they really were very simple. Everyone was angry. Josh found that kind of anger boring. He had seen a lot of it. It didn't interest him. He saw me and Allison as rising above that kind of anger and doing something with ourselves.

Some of the things Josh said alarmed me in a bad way. It started to become at times unclear if Josh really meant anything he said. Because he would change from week to week. But he told me he quit smoking one day, and then told me this philosophical concept about smoking and somehow made the act seem meaningful. He told me he was only interested in dating insecure women. I thought that was alarming, but then he told me he would only date someone who exceeded his standards of perfection. He told me that his greatest fear in life was success – that the only thing worth living for was to always be reaching for the carrot that reality dangled before you that you could never reach. But success was also what he spent a lot of his time thinking about.

Beyond this, he was really into motivational speakers like Tony Robbins. He talked about Robert Anton Wilson, and about Eris and chaos and some kind of Apple. I would sit out in the living room with him, and we would be watching Jon Stewart when he would suddenly pause the television and start talking about rewiring yourself, creating illusions that would trap people, or bring what you wanted to you. It was some strange stuff, things that I had thought about from time to time throughout my life at disconnected moments, but hadn't truly put together. Meeting Josh for me was in many regards, evolutionary to my development. It was hard to say if he really actually encouraged me or not, if he was a force for good or a force for bad, but Josh was a catalyst for higher thought, and change. And I needed change. I needed to get so far away from my old life, from my old feelings and Josh gave that to me. I started feeling like the best thing my mother had ever done for me was kick me out of the house.

One thing that did bother me though, was that he didn't want to hear about my past. He only liked hearing from me, things that pertained to him – there was this fatal flaw of being incurious on certain subjects, unsentimental, and impatient. He was great at deductive reasoning, but he didn't really want to focus on me or anyone around him the way people traditionally might (ex. You want to know about a person's childhood when you get to know them and care about them). He told me several times that as far as he was concerned, I had only started to exist the second he met me. Before that, I wasn't real. The idea started to seem appealing to me, and it was an identity that evolved with me and became very real. Nobody cared about who I had been when I was twenty. I was an ugly, fat nobody as far as the world was concerned. I thought Sarah liked that person, but in fact, I had been used and pretty heavily abused socially by everyone in my life, and I currently was still battling that.

That Renee was dumb enough to believe the world was at face value what I saw it as – I wasn't playing the power games that are inevitable. I had found ways to survive, but I looked at my former self as a coward that needed to be forgotten in the sands of time. The fact that I hadn't done anything with my life that anyone could actually recognize had made me quite ready to abandon that facade that character forever. Josh offered in his myopic vision of me, the opportunity for me to rebrand myself, to outlive my former selves, to blossom, to hatch, to become someone new, to be the revenge those who had hurt me or had failed to consider my intrinsic worth, simply by existing. I didn't want to correct the damage. I would use the damage to create something beautiful, and that would be my life's work. I wanted to wake up every morning and breath new purpose with each breath, to glow and entrance people I walked passed in grocery stores, that I wasn't even interested in talking to. So in turn, I believed him. Josh's version of what I might be was better than any other idea anyone had ever had of me, and so what if he didn't know about my acne problem in high school or my favorite toys when I was little?

Granted, there was this big lack of sympathy. He could have been warmer to me, could have been gentler. He had absolutely no sympathy that I had been in love with Zack for seven years, or what my father had been like. He didn't care. He liked the idea of me being an artist or a writer, but was in no way interested in what it took for me to find those place internally. He wasn't interested in my perceptions – and maybe not about me in some ways. However, what he did provide me with was something that held more weight than the indifference, resentment, malicious comments, the discrediting, muffling and ultimately flaky relationships I had with everyone else. Talking to Josh, I really started to feel like nobody in my life woke up with purpose or actively looked for ways to improve their lives. My father was very judgmental, but his entire life was based around the drugged feeling of finding fault so he could be angry. He just wanted to feel angry everyday because to him it was a source of power. My mom was looking for some easy fantasy to fall behind – something more akin to Jesus coming down and telling her she was a prophet. She didn't want to work for it, she simply wanted to believe it was true, and when Jesus never came down and made her life seem special, she was only as resourceful as it took for her to create a fantasy around herself.

Allison just wanted attention. She would take it cheap. She just wanted to be the center, and I could appreciate where she was coming from, as she was young and as I've explained, she was trying to fill the void of being neglected and overlooked. But in the end, she wasn't actually moving towards anything. She was only trying to set everyone up around her to get her own kind of drug, similar to my father in her extroverted behavior, but different in that she wanted attention rather than to be angry. And David was sick. He clearly needed to feel like he was in control and to feel angry all the time, but it wasn't fun for him at the same time. His ego seemed ill. And Sarah, Sarah was good at getting what she wanted, but there was this sense with her that she was afraid to even want anything, and she couldn't differentiate her values. She didn't know the difference between a song being catchy and good. Perhaps she suffered from the mysterious pains of not having ever truly suffered, and for this reason she wasn't trustworthy. She didn't know her own weaknesses. She had too much pride to admit fault.

In any case, all of them were thorn in my side now – thorns that had punctured and killed someone who was once me, but no longer existed. I stopped trying to confide in Sarah or Allison. It was clear to me that neither one of them actually liked me. Trying to go about the idea that they somehow still did like me was getting me nowhere, and if they didn't like me, than I didn't like them either. I did like them to a certain extent I guess, but when Sarah showed up, the more I saw her I got this punchy feeling in my stomach. I just associated her with feeling valueless. I associated Allison with the idea that I was inadequate. Neither one of them supported my progress, and neither one of them actually believed or understood what real progress was. So I just confided in Josh, and though nobody seemed to like it, none of them actually seemed to care enough about me to put in the efforts to be my friend like Josh did, heck David had told my mother that he considered me dead. If I was going to live with that kind of thing, I had the right to move on. I found that I related to Josh a lot more than anyone I had ever met, and nobody had the right to judge me.

One thing did become exceptionally clear however. Sarah would sometimes come over to visit me at Josh's, and when she came over, she generally brought Zack with her. Josh was extremely jealous of Zack, and it was clear that he pined over Sarah. It was also clear that he didn't have a clue who Sarah was. I was frustrated when he told me things about Sarah I knew weren't true. I tried to explain to him for instance, that she was fairly disinterested in philosophy, but he insisted she was fascinated with philosophy and that they were 'really connecting' on a philosophical level. I wanted to shout at him at times that it was he and I that were connecting, not him and Sarah. Sarah liked Josh. Like everyone, she thought he was funny (in a way I can't do justice in my writing), but ultimately she wasn't attracted to him. She saw him as a nerd, and on a very visceral level, Sarah wasn't interested in having a psychologically complicated relationship with Josh. And I kind of understood in a sense why she liked Zack. Zack was intense, he was emotionally distant, and he was simple. She liked the simplicity of him. She wasn't interested in a bookish relationship with someone. This isn't to say that Sarah couldn't be nerdy or complicated, but when it came to romance, she liked boring. And despite all the hype about his addictions and former talent as a musician, now that I was old enough to see it all clearly, Zack was an incredible bore.

One day I went with Sarah and Zack up to Moscow briefly (I don't remember the reasons), but it was more and more sickening for me to just watch Sarah pamper Zack. He did nothing for her. He wasn't nice to her. But it wasn't ultimately the fact he was leeching off her, or that he was at his very core, extremely selfish. Selfish made some sense, and selfish can be creative, or intriguing. You can dig into selfish, even if it is ultimately miserable and dead end in it's own way. It was the fact that he was disgustingly stupid. It was abhorrent how dumb he was. I couldn't believe he was so fucking stupid. Had I ever met anyone this dumb? In a way, a person couldn't even really get mad at him. What was the point of being mad at someone who was so stupid that they discredited their ability to even understand anything going on around them? And Sarah looked all the time like she was pretending he wasn't stupid, but good lord, she had to know. He was listening to either Tim McGraw or Kenny Chesney or some country musician that Zack liked in the car that day, and in an attempt to be nice – since he made a comment that I was 'too cool' for main stream country music (which I am), I tried to compliment one small fraction of one of the songs he put on – since it used an effect similar to one I heard in a Magnetic Fields song once. It was very minor, and the song was actually atrocious. I was just trying to make him feel better about being an idiot, and he was so stupid, that my compliment was too complicated for him and he took it as an insult because he was too fucking stupid to understand it. And he began driving erratically because he was angry and hurt and Sarah had to baby talk him to make him drive better.

Not only that, but his beard was unkept. It looked soiled and nasty. And he hadn't changed his pants. Even if he didn't use drugs, he would still be stupid. There was nothing to win with him. Zack at his best was someone who was still a horrible person. Some people use hard drugs or become an alcoholic and it shapes them into a bad person, but you know that they still have potential, still have moments where the good overcomes the bad, and you know that underneath it they love people and know better. Zack really wasn't that way. He was just foul.

Sarah took me with her to go to Dairy Queen one day to get Zack ice cream (one of the few things that Zack and I had in common was a love for ice cream). I ended up getting some for myself, and on the way back, Sarah made a statement, assuming that I wanted to go get Zack ice cream with her. She still was stuck in that train of thought still, that she wanted me to be with her in a way that I was not. She had stopped really following my state of mind, she was still stuck with the idea that I was in some way in love with Zack. She just hadn't been there. She had always hid from me. So I had evolved. I had evolved a lot, and rapidly. It was sort of crazy how much I had changed while she had closed off. She said something like 'Isn't it crazy that we will do just about anything Zack wants?', I think in hopes to find solidarity with me in some unhealthy way that enabled her to continue her dumb new lifestyle. And I had to suddenly really listen to this statement, because as much as I didn't want to admit it, even three months ago it might have been true for me as well, I might have gone pretty far for Zack's preference or well being. Now it sounded abhorrent and foreign to me. I had no interest in Zack''s ice cream, or in Zack. I wanted her and him to break up, and I never wanted to see this idiot again. I was grateful for what it was worth that I had been given over to Josh. I valued Josh in a way I couldn't value anyone else. He was special to me, and if he was the consolation prize, I had to accept what had happened for what it was. But I had no lingering feelings towards Zack, even being angry at Sarah in the direct way I had been felt like an extension of leftover feelings and those weren't quite the same either.

Zack ended up not going to North Dakota. On the day he was supposed to leave, he didn't show up that night before, and he came in that morning with Pete. Both of them were high, and Zack started ranting at Sarah in the parking lot, screaming at her about random insanity and nothingness. He called and made some rude message to North Dakota Josh (not the one who was my new best friend), and it was all off. Go figure. Zack didn't follow through with something.

One of the the things that united Josh and I in fact was our mutual distaste for Zack. Josh felt like he wasn't allowed to not like Zack. His mother was married to Zack's dad, Zack was Whitney's brother, and he didn't want Sarah to hate him when he said bad things about Zack in front of her. With that said, Josh really truly loathed Zack. I remember feeling oddly similar. I felt like I had brought Zack on my own head, that I had a duty to find ways and reasons to accept him. Sarah had invested her entire life into this relationship. She'd bet it all. So if I wanted to even try to be close to her, I felt like I had to withhold my thoughts. There was one evening where Sarah and Zack showed up for an hour, ate Josh's food, watched his television and left. Josh was quietly in the corner on his computer. I was sitting in the corner on the floor. Zack and Sarah left, and it was only this buzzing silence left in the room between Josh and I. We listened quietly as Sarah and Zack drove away. After a full minute, Josh spoke. He said 'I hate Zack..'

And it really hit me then that I wasn't alone. I wasn't the only person that hated this guy. I hadn't even allowed myself to think it, had been maybe too afraid to eat crow on the subject of Zack. But I hated him too and I realized this the second I heard it stated by someone else. It was okay to hate Zack! I had been spending the last two months finding creative ways to work out alternatives, making the whole thing more complicated than it really was, but deep down, I loathed him. He made every room he stood in worse, it was degrading for me to even really know the guy. And Josh had freely admitted what I hadn't allowed myself to say. I looked over at Josh, and I said 'me too'. And Josh smiled. We were friends after that moment.

One night after talking to Josh, we were going to bed, he to his respective bedroom and me to mine, and as I was walking down the hallway to my room, I realized this odd warm feeling I had for Josh. I saw him just as valid as myself, in some very personal fashion. Some aspect of him was locked in my heart. Was I in love with Josh?? I went into my room, closed the door and laid in bed all night contemplating it. Things had just happened really fast. My life had really taken some swift turns, and now I was living with this guy, this really special weird, bright insane weirdo, someone unlike anyone else I had ever met who I didn't have to try to explain certain things about myself to, who either accepted me and seemed to understand me, or who demonstrated to me that some of the things I thought were important actually were not. I felt like he had a lot to teach me, and I felt open and empathetic towards him, I wanted to be there for him when nobody else was. I hadn't really ever felt so sympathetic to another person in my entire life. All the other times I had thought I was in love, while they held there own meaning, they paled in comparison. I hadn't ever really dared this kind of vulnerability with anyone else. I had more or less been treating people like drugs. All I wanted to do was curl up in his thoughts and live in his mind like a quiet sleeping furry cat. No past, no future. I would give up my life and my body as I knew it simply to live there with him. All I really wanted was his acceptance. He was napping around noon the next day on the couch. I didn't want to be a weirdo and stare at him (generally speaking there is something very vulnerable and maybe weird about looking at a sleeping person unbeknownst), but the brief glimpse of his sleeping spectacled face, and I thought he was perfect, and beautiful. I really couldn't imagine ever having loved anyone else, though I quickly left the room not to be intrusive.

Since losing what felt like, my old life, friends and family and former identity included, I guess I felt like I had no home. What you are supposed to feel at the core of your thoughts, the sense of love and safety that you get when you are young, the quiet of the ends of exhaled breath that lead you to inhale with second nature, was this sense that if I moved too rapidly, if I thought too hard, if my the boat of my life rocked too hard, or lost my breath, I would fall off into the abyss, that my lungs would cave in and I would be lost in some pitch black emptiness of my inner self. There was nothing grounding me. My past was nothing but brokenness and pain and futility. Josh became the ground. He was my only home. He replaced every broken relationship, and he intensified my journey of self discovery. He made me feel wanted, safe, appreciated.

I eventually wanted to tell Sarah. I promised myself I could keep a secret, and that lasted for a few weeks. Eventually I needed to tell someone. Sarah was having a lot of issues with Zack, and I thought it would be nice if we went somewhere on a day off that we shared. I decided that we should drive half way down the state to a small town called Riggins. It's mostly a tourist attraction in central Idaho for people who like serious rapids. We booked a hotel by the river. I thought it would be fun to listen to music driving and just get away. Plus it gave me the perfect opportunity to explain to Sarah that I had a crush on someone. We were laying in the hotel room after bathing and relaxing, and I told her I had a crush on someone. She immediately guessed it was Josh. She just sensed that him and I had a lot in common and it made sense that I would feel that way about him.

I ended up telling Allison as well. She was at Melissa's, and for some reason she was really struggling to adjust there. I called her from my cheap cellphone, and I told her I was in love with Josh. I don't know why. I guess telling people about your feelings is a little bit contagious, your ego just wants to say it out loud. She sounded calm. She told me it was not love. Then she told me something that surprised and kind of horrified me. She was in love with Josh too. It took me awhile to process that information. It made our little conversation a bit awkward. I was standing out in the drive way, and it was just before everything gets really dark, but you can still see the sun in the very distance. I didn't cry or get upset. It just seemed absurd to me. Allison was fifteen years old. Josh was almost thirty. Some people could say that he was too old for me – I was twenty-one, let alone her. They were fifteen years apart.

She went onto explain how age was just a number, and she had reason to believe her and Josh would eventually be getting married. I was afraid she was losing her mind. I mean, fuck that. What was this nonsense? Why couldn't I ever just love someone without having to think about Allison or Sarah, or anyone else getting mixed up? It was horrible enough to me that Josh was in love with Sarah, and that I had very recently had been emotionally invested in something Sarah ended had her hands in. It wasn't fair. What on earth was going on? Why did everything have to become so seedy and disturbing? I guess I put those frustrations aside however, and I tried very hard to understand what Allison was feeling. She was fifteen, and extremely confused. Life was changing drastically for her as well. And Josh gave her a lot of attention. Perhaps she had misconstrued that attention. Because she was talking about marriage. The poor girl was hardly out of junior high, and she felt destined to marry this thirty year old man she had just met who gave her attention.

I stopped telling Allison anything after that, and of course the next weekend when Josh came to visit, she sat him down and explained him the very 'SERIOUS' problem of me being in love with him. She told him everything I had and had not said. Josh had already suspected it. So Josh came back from his sister's house thoroughly weirded out by me. I just accepted it. I had already known he was going to find me out. He offhandedly confronted me with it, and I admitted that it was true. He was rude to me about it, like I had done something wrong. I shrugged. There was nothing I could do. And secretly, I could also tell that he was very pleased that I was in love with him. It was like he was conflicted in some way. I didn't know what it all boiled down to, but the fact that he wasn't kicking me out and still wanted to spend a majority of his free time with me, it gave me a strange sense of encouragement. He proceeded to talk to me, and in those conversations there was an unspoken knowing between him and I that I was in love with him, and over time he seemed to rely on my feelings, and on rare occasions, I felt like he was reciprocal.

Here is what I didn't know. Allison had gotten carried away with her feelings towards Josh. But Josh had instigated her feelings in a very inappropriate way, creating this huge ordeal with poor Allison. He had been drinking, and he, Whitney and Melissa had been doting on Allison and obsessing about how cool and young she was. She was full of herself with all the attention, particularly from Josh. Josh had patted her back, and told her that when she was thirty he would marry her. He hadn't meant it of course – and he claims it was a testament to how cool she seemed (I am not so sure that he wasn't toying knowingly with her innocence), but it was gross just the same. Inappropriate, disrespectful, out of line, and a perverted comment. He didn't respect Allison's age. It sort of destroyed my ability to really think well of Josh in some regard, when I found out three weeks later – only after having established a more settled emotional landscape within myself. It explained why Allison was going crazy too. She thought that me and Sarah were stealing Josh away from her while she was trapped up at Melissa's. She had taken what he had said literally and thought of herself as his child bride, and every day for her, to the time she turned thirty was some kind of waiting game. I couldn't turn off my love for him – which made me sick with myself and question my moral character, but it created this need for me to reel back from the situation. I wasn't like Sarah. I wasn't going to sell Allison's feelings off because I wanted something. Allison was my sister, and regardless of whatever it was I foolishly wanted, who I wanted to waste my time with, she came first.

Josh didn't remember having said that to Allison, so when Melissa told him that Allison was in love with him too he got weirded out worse than he had me. Allison expected twenty-four seven attention from Josh. She followed him around like a puppy. She talked and acted out like a very little girl – like Josh was a father almost. It was so alarming that everyone just stood back and watched it unfold when she came to visit. He eventually shut the door on her, and locked himself up in his room, and she waited outside the door for him to come out oblivious. The truth of the matter was that Josh had really put on a huge act around Allison, pretending he was more childish than he actually was. He had liked the fact that he had separated me and her, and he was in his own way playing us both. His game, was hoping that creating this illusion of being desirable would make Sarah fall in love with him. Because he really just wanted Sarah. He was obsessed with her. And Josh believed in playing these really stupid social mind games. I didn't really recognize how petty and stupid it was for a thirty year old man to be doing this to us three girls. Not to say that I wasn't an adult, I definitely was, and I was free to make my own decisions and he wasn't too old for me per say. It's just that I was so naive. I really didn't know anything about how these things worked. I had a very innocent view of relationships and instigating relationships. Sadly, a lot of his theories were true – though they never seemed to work for him in regards to us. In a situation at work where you garner the interest of one person, it's likely that instinctively other people will see that and subconsciously see you as more desirable. The more suitors you have, the more desirable you come to outsiders.

But really, Sarah never adhered to any of that. If anything, she was indifferent and slightly grossed out by his egotistical lack of self control. She liked him well enough, but given she and I had just gone through this big painful process with the whole Z thing, I just don't think that even if all the planets aligned, that she would have mixed herself up in something that meant a lot to me, intentionally. He was hoping he could draw her away from Zack and to him. Allison and I were means to an end for Josh, ways to lead Sarah in his direction like she was a dumb animal.

I let go of my expectations for Josh, Sarah, Allison. I just stopped trying to build anything. I realized that this was not the time for me to be an idealist, not in any way. I was going to have to become a survivor before I ever could really build a life for myself. And survival now meant more than hunkering down and disappearing. It meant I would have to fight, boldly take risks at times, and it meant that I would have to give up on things that weren't right. If I had learned anything from Sarah, it was that I didn't want to give into my feelings because they were there. I knew after most of the year of 2011 had passed, that I could probably survive anything. I had to let go of my desperation, and if I just let go of my thoughts very hard, the universe would take me to the opportunities I was looking for. If Josh and I were meant to be, then things would unfold for me. If not, then things would drift apart. But I wasn't going to try to get Josh. I did want to earn his love, and I wanted him to earn mine, but he had a lot to make up for, and it wasn't particularly appealing to be in battle with Whitney, Sarah and Allison for Josh's affections. If I naturally won the race I would accept the medal. But I wasn't going to force anything. It was going to have to be possible for me to be in love with Josh, and stab him to save myself if need be – and it was so strange to have that kind of duality, both instincts equally as strong in me. I had to hold two simultaneous viewpoints at the same time, entertain them both as modes of existence rather than real truths.

My only other option was to move back in with my mother, or father, give up and pretend that none of this had ever happened to me, to just try and fill the small box of what had previously been my life as if I could fit into those small shoes, and those options were worse than death to me. I would never go back, particularly to my father's. I was going to live with Josh anyway, and Sarah and Zack and Whitney and Allison even with all the turmoil and unrequited love and resentments. It was economically the only feasible option, and I had to honor that this was where my strange psychological journey had brought me. I had something from this situation that I had to take with me. We were set to move into the new house by August, a week before my twenty-second birthday. Everyone in the house was both a friend and an enemy, but nobody had the courage to really say it.

A week before we moved, I had taken a small walk to the convenient store by Josh's apartment. It started to thunder and lightning outside. As I walked back home with my diet blue mountain dew (a specialty of that year), I looked out over the hill over to where my mother's house was smelling that weird thunder/lightning smell in the air, and I suddenly watched lightning strike what looked like her apartment. It was about a mile and a half off. I couldn't be sure – but it was at the exact location. Later I learned that Allison had been at her computer, and the lightning had struck right outside her window, and essentially it blew out that computer permanently. It seemed so odd to me that I had watched it all happen in the distance.

PART 102 - https://tinyurl.com/yc5m3cq7

PART 101 - https://tinyurl.com/yafyhse2

My Life Story in Chapters, PARTS 1-100 (this link below will lead you to a list of all the chapters i have written thus far).

http://aleatoryalarmalligator.tumblr.com/post/168782771574/life-story-sections-1-100

#text #writing #life story #long text

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lyricalt · 7 years ago

Text

2017 fic round up + annual fic meme

It’s that time again, folks. Let’s see the damage.

THE LIST

*drabble/stuff under 1k words +wip

Boku No Hero Academia

Tell - inatodo

Destiny

hardcase* - implied andal brask/cayde-6

a code of you - original character: sol-6

Gamble* - andal brask/Cayde-6

Integrate

got a feel for you* - post-canon seep - pre-canon

Overwatch

R76

feel something*

Fourth Date Stuff

Prompt: cut*

punchline

GEN / MISC.

a priori - time travel, Reaper&Gabriel Reyes

gift for gift - gen - Reaper, Widowmaker, Ana Amari, Jack Morrison (mentioned)

all his cards you want to touch - Jesse McCree (Vigilante)/Jesse McCree (Riverboat)

cross your heart and hope - Destiny AU: has mcgenji, implied r76. Too lazy to link to individual pieces on ao3, so I only linked the ones only on tumblr.

Showteam+

Trigger happy

of all just fools - Destiny 2 AU

MCGENJI

not far from home vantage make you sway Prompt: rainy day* Prompt: surprise* must be love cut* devil gave me a crooked start down and doubt - (background implied r76) on your mark+ - AU where genji is a motorcycle and mccree is a mechanic. serial never had much faith (in love or miracles)* Carry case of six wake up calls: 1, 2, 3 Beach drabbles: 1, 2, 3 like you would to a point, to your knees damned if you do - incubus mccree/oni genji sun steel / soul intersect count to three triple threat+ Prompt: kiss on the back of the hand*

Total number of completed stories: 33, excluding drabbles and some prompts.

Total word count: AO3 stats say around 56,500. I’ll ballpark it 60,000.

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d predicted?

I wrote more words and more fic this year, but a bunch of it were very short stories! Shorter than my usual, I think. I am also very in love with the Destiny AU so I think that had a lot to do with my high word count. I also wrote a lot on the side I never posted, ahaha. I think I was very distracted this year by too many fandoms/ideas. Ah well.

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January?

Nah. I’m predictable. I’m still side-eyeing the genji-as-a-motorcycle AU though. I did that?

What’s your own favorite story of the year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you happiest?

CARRY. It was Carry. I loved writing that stupid fic. It was so dumb but I feel so vindictive and about it because I wrote it to have fun and also to express some exasperation about a couple of mcgnj tropes I felt were kinda not-my-thing. BUT!! it makes me happy that a lot of other people enjoyed it too and also @vfordii drew THIS.

Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

I don’t feel like I took any huge risks. I am pretty comfortable with the subject matter I write (--though I think it’s more of a matter of motivation and sticking to it). I, uh, did write some bottom/sub mccree which is somehow not all that popular within the mcgenji fandom and let me tell you this was hugely a case of “if no one will write it then I will but I will complain about it for the entire time”. I wouldn’t consider it a risk though, but I did learn a bit about how to comfortably write dirty talk without needing it to be explicitly written. I don’t think it shows up a lot in my current fics but I’ve been taking note of what sounds right to me vs how much I want to write, if that makes sense.

Also for the record all my mcgnj fic is implied sexual dynamic sub/bottom mccree, like, in the case it ever happens. (I’m kidding. Or am I. I am. (Not really.) No, I’m dead serious.)

Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the New Year?

Finish the damn fics I start, why don’t I!!!!! (This is a constant goal.)

I do want to write some fandom stories for original characters. I also want to write more explicit fic without shaming myself out of it. What are the nastywords all the hip young adults are using nowadays? I don’t know and I get conflicting reports, but by god I will try to learn.

My best story of this year

Hardcase, which is admittedly a small drabble but I think.. it holds very well under Destiny 2, despite my frustration with how Cayde is portrayed in comparison to the Destiny 1. I’ve always had this specific opinion about Cayde and his mysterious (and not so mysterious) agendas. Dude definitely has a hero complex and this fic sorta toes into it. Plus, I like any Cayde angst related to Andal.

I feel like, out of all my fics this felt the most complete, and one that I was most satisfied with what I wanted to convey with a limited amount of words. I’m aware that I’m not… really made for longer stories, so I guess… I like to play to my strengths? And this was it.

My most popular story

According to AO3 hits and kudos, it was make you sway, another mcgenji fic that started with the same motivation as carry. I think.. it’s obvious… that I, uh, like writing a specific brand of Horny McCree, in that he’s not so much embarrassed by his attraction to Genji but just slightly exasperated by it (and his timing). And, haha, also Genji not being 100% on top of his libido is a nice change of pace too. I remember having fun with this!!

Story of mine most under-appreciated, in my opinion

feel something is one I’m super fond of. It’s very short, but I feel like it’s my best r76 fic in terms of the relationship I want to portray, especially post-Overwatch. I like the way I wrote it; in my opinion it was very to-the-point, and doesn’t have the happy ending they don’t quite deserve (yet) but in my mind it’s still a very positive fic without being too idealistic? Not that either way is bad, it was just something different for me, personally.

Most fun story to write

devil gave me a crooked start was a fic I pulled right outta my ass but wrote it all in one sitting after I came up with a couple of lines of dialogue; “So I’m stuck in the future,” “Would you like to know the future you?”, etc etc. It helped that Blizzard had just released McCree’s Blackwatch skin (WITH THE BLACK LEATHER CHAPS!!!!) and while I wasn’t comfortable about Blackwatch Genji having any sort of romantic relationship with Blackwatch McCree, I was sure as heck willing for Present-Day!Genji having some good nasty fun with a younger McCree.

Also I had a stupid amount of fun writing triple threat: genji/genji/genji, and I’m now just seeing a pattern that I enjoy writing characters being humorously turned on and having fun getting their rocks off, so there’s that. What a revelation.

Most Sexy Story

God im sorry but I wrote a mcgenji week drabble about blackwatch genji and mccree beating the shit out of each other and it’s the opposite of romantic and definitely not meant to BE romantic, but fighting can be sexy without being horny, right?? RIGHT???

Story with the single sexiest moment

to a point, to your knees.

It takes a huge effort for McCree to sit still after that, spine tingling and heat crawling over his body. The switchblade knife in Genji’s hand spins once in a little flourish, drawing McCree’s gaze to it.

His attention caught, Genji places the blade at his thumb and forefinger. He slides the knife between them once to no effect, then another time. McCree can hear the grating metal against each other and then the hiss of steam, knife edge still wet with spit from when McCree had held it on his tongue.

“Shall we see how sharp your mouth is now?” Genji asks, running the knife through his fingers once last time.

Genji sharpening McCree’s knife with his fingers and McCree getting hot (literally, metaphorically) and bothered by it is a personal achievement. For me or McCree, that’s up for debate.

Though I have to admit I’m absolutely still pissed about not titling the fic “cut to the feeling” instead because that’s a far better name for a knife kink fic an also my third favorite carly rae jepsen song.

Most “holy crap, that’s wrong, even for you” story

I don’t think anyone was surprised about even my most wildest fic. I think a friend of mine was initially disappointed that the knife kink fic was tagged for “mild blood” instead of straight up bloodplay. I’m sorry.

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters

I never quite like this question because I always have a good idea of how I want to portray a character in fic since most of my fics tend to lean on the introspective side of things. down and doubt is a very McCree-centered fic that deals with Gabriel, as well as Genji in relation to Gabriel. I wanted to show a lot of things about how McCree and Genji fight together, and what each of them thinks about the whole Gabriel Reyes = Reaper thing. I didn’t hit all the points, and I unfortunately had to scrub a scene off that I definitely want to rework in another fic, but I think I had the basics… present in the fic. I guess what did surprise me was touching on Soldier: 76, though the dynamics between him and McCree is another thing I want to write about for a later fic.

Hardest story to write

Intersect , mostly because the later half was such a visual story I had wanted to tell in a form that wasn’t all writing. I think It would have done better as a comic but what can u do? I still very much like the first half, which I had rattling in my head for the last year and a half, really.

I was aiming to write about McCree having hang-ups about Genji, and how he views himself—a washed out mercenary with no clear goals, in comparison to Genji, who’s off in a better headspace than him but still interested in McCree anyway. And it’s not so much a reunion fic I wanted to show but a story where it’s just ok to try and reacquaint yourselves with someone who might be a new person to you. I think. I very much did not want it to be a reunion fic.

Most disappointing

Intersect!!!!!!!! It was so jumpy!!!! I had a lot of expectations for it!!!! I wanted it to be so much!!!! In the end I just gave up trying to make the words all fit and banged out the rest of the story and let it go. I’m still upset it didn’t come out the way I wanted it but I think it was better to just post the damn thing rather than let it rot in my drive forever. I felt better for posting it but I don’t think I can reread it anytime soon.

Easiest story to write

I lot of fics that fall into this category were the drabbles like Wake Up Calls. I really like writing about mundane moments and little glimpses of a developing relationship, especially for mcgenji, because my headcanon of them consists of a bunch of little moments that somehow build up into a rolling romance that sneaks up on both of them. I think it’s why I have such a hard time writing one long cohesive fic about them. There just isn’t a Big Ah-Ha Moment for them to me? I guess? I guess. I’m rambling!!

Biggest surprise

That I continued the mcgenji motorcycle AU, honestly. I love it to pieces and it’s fun but god do I think it’s such a chore writing the build up leading to the parts I WANT to write in the first place!!!!!

Most unintentionally telling story

gift for gift started out as a very Gabriel Reyes-centric story but somehow I got passionate about Widowmaker and so it’s also very much about her as well and how she functions within her lack of autonomy. I wanted to explore Gabriel’s motivations/drive to push forward without mentioning just what, exactly, he was going for, which was surprisingly very easy.

Story I’d like to revise

Intersect, not so much revising it but revisiting some of the themes and concepts, especially about McCree. I’ve talked enough about this fic. Anyway.

Story I didn’t write but will at some point, I swear

Well. It’s more of a WIP at this stage but I want to write my epic 100k, 50 chaptered Guardian/Fallen romance fic for Destiny but we’ll see how that goes? Mostly I’m waiting on Bungie because I’m so dry on Bungie lore and I have no idea what the House of Dusk is up to and that’s kinda important to my story—which is, not really at all, but I would LIKE to make sure.

Anyway, that’s a wrap for my 2017 fics. Thanks for reading and all the encouragement! I hope to write more entertaining stories for 2018!! :’)

#thank you to everyone who supported me and encouraged me #and all the nice tags and comments too!!!#fic round up #fic 2017 #also this was an html nightmare pls pray for this awful post

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