#rainy days make me wordy

[autisticempathydaemon]

Ask, and you shall RECEIVE.

(Even if you didn’t ask, this infodump was bound to happen eventually.)

Under the cut: My Alexis design choices- why she’s Vietnamese, autistic, Southern, and other miscellaneous details that I couldn’t figure out how to work into my fics or will be included in the future.

Alexis's autism:

In making Alexis autistic, I got to explore the really interesting way that vampirism is not only a figurative disability but also affects actual disabilities. I see often, in fantasy, magic curing stuff like that, and though that is a valid perspective to tell, it’s not my favorite. Alexis having been a sonal energetic who struggled to maintain her magic is meant to parallel the autistic difficulty with vocal regulation. Though this is fixed by becoming a vampire, it was really important to me that her autism only changed and not went away completely. 

Other autistic traits I gave her: 

Discomfort with eye contact (though this is also trauma-induced). 

Sensory difficulties, especially after her senses heightened after her turning, that can result in shutdowns. 

A typically blunt, stoic affect stemming from alexithymia.

Alexithymia is the word for difficulty with processing, regulating, and expressing emotion, I shit you not, I did not make that up. 

I will probably explore her alexithymia in the future through the lens of her trying to disentangle her own emotions and Sam’s emotions transferred to her through their maker/progeny bond. 

Her difficulty with vocal modulation is also me taking creative liberties with selective mutism. In a Prissy AU I’m working on, I will be working with this more explicitly. 

Backstory stuff:

Giving Alexis a Southern accent was a really early choice I made when I wanted to do a fan audio of her dialogue in my “Alexis meeting Darlin” fic. I thought it’d be really interesting and poignant for the listener to hear her speak and immediately think “Oh. That’s right. She and Sam weren’t always like this; they used to have something in common.” It’s also one of the only accents I know how to do, and I wanted her and William to have shared history in New Orleans, so it stuck.

Making Alexis Vietnamese was, on the surface, a narcissistic choice, but I still stand by it. I make almost all the Redacted characters Asian to heal the inner child, and the French influences give her another connection to Will. Then, when viewing her through that lens, I saw a lot of ways she could be read as that Asian temptress/femme fatale/vamp/dragon lady/ice queen, and I wanted to explore the depth she has beyond that.

I’ve made Alexis, to my knowledge, the only character that, willingly and under no duress, chose to become a vampire, because I think that’s a very interesting perspective to explore. Yes, there is this loss of magic and mortality that comes along with vampirism. Yes, you lose a life you had before, but my Alexis didn’t like that life. This new life gave her independence and immortality, and I like the idea that someone came into that choice eyes wide open, ya know? Like, it’s not just a thing you learn to live with; for some people, it’s really cool.

I haven’t settled on this, haven’t really decided if I’m sticking with it or not, but if my Alexis is a Vietnamese vampire who was born in 1950’s New Orleans, she’s got some good, old-fashioned Catholic guilt comin out the wazoo. 

Miscellaneous details:

If Will gave Alexis a diadem- and I insist that he did because he loves his children unconditionally- I picture a Laurel-style crown, just like Vincent’s, studded with magnolias with jade leaves and marble petals. Magnolias are the state flower of Louisiana and, I think, are prettiest at night just like vampires. On top of that, both marble and jade are prized Vietnamese exports, and my Chinese/Hmong William would follow the tradition of giving jade to daughters to protect them and to grow more valuable with age with that daughter.

@mr-laveau wanted to know where Alexis has been during canonical events, and I have thought about this some and might explore this in future fics.

During the Inversion, she was with Will, because both of them felt their progenies’ terror, and both were helpless to do anything since it was during the day.

When Sam truly and completely falls for Darlin- I don’t know when this would be; the BA, maybe?- Alexis is alone in her part of the Solaire property, and she feels the exact moment Sam gives his heart away. I am definitely writing this one, and I am not looking forward to it, because it will hurt me /lh

[changingplumbob]

Villareal: Chapter 6, Part 11

The library of Windenburg won't know what hit it!

For ease of reading if the toddlers are trying to say real words I'll put the English in brackets. Luna (mummy) and Devin (mama) use some German and Italian. Amore (Italian) Love Bambino/s (Italian) Male child/children Ciao (Italian) Hello/Bye Grazie (Italian) Thank you Schatz (German) Treasure Tante/Onkel (German) Aunt/Uncle

In the library in Windenburg Max and Hugo Villareal are keeping toddlers Alfred and Rilian busy. Max is working on needs flashcards with Rilian while Hugo has decided to play with Alfred for a bit.

In a side room Luna has found the archive machine and begins to pull together some research for her next paper. She hasn’t used one in a while so she has to ask the librarian about the more fiddly tasks that she has forgotten how to do. Lucky for us the librarian is friendly and happy to help.

Max: And what is this one

Rilian: For hungry!

Max: Good job! We can cook lots of nice things in pans to fill up our hunger

Alfred: I birdie, flap flap

Hugo: Uh oh, storm is coming

Alfred laughs and giggles as Hugo spins him around. When he gets back on solid ground though he wants some flashcard time to! If his brother can learn then so will he.

Following streaming her jog around the rainy heart of Windenburg Devin returns to the library to find some fans have gathered.

Fan: OMG it’s you! In person!

Devin: Ciao! Nice to see you despite this rain

Fan: I couldn’t miss this chance. Can I… please may I have your autograph

Devin: Of course. I keep some headshots on me in case of autograph emergencies. Now who shall I make it out to?

After signing some autographs, taking some selfies and posing for the paparazzi Devin breaks out her guitar to give an impromptu performance for those that braved the weather.

Inside Rilian has finished with flashcards and has gotten Onkel Max to play with him. Unfortunately as great as Max and Hugo are they do manage to get confused about which twin they’re responsible for. Seizing his chance Alfred heads to the dollhouse.

Alfred: Birdie SMASH

He lets loose on the dollhouse, trashing what he can. A nearby child is horrified at the display and bursts into tears. Luna comes in just as he’s finished and grinning to himself.

Luna: ALFRED! I thought you two were going to watch him

Luna’s brothers mutter their apologies while Luna scoops up Alfred and apologises to the librarian. Devin comes in and although she doesn’t have her tools is happy to pay for the cost of repair. The Del Sol Villareal’s head home.

When they get back the toddlers need naps and Luna heads to host her last online office hours for the day.

Luna: Class, I am here to help. But some of these submitted questions are answered in the final chapters of the books. I’m not here to read the books for you. Reframe your question after you’ve finished the text and we can discuss

Next student group

Luna: You want me to define that word during office hours? Let me help you. Open a tab and go to dictionary.com, everyone make note of that

Next student group

Luna: You all sound on track for your essays, I’m looking forward to reading them. Remember, include all references! We quote or we paraphrase, we do not plagiarise

Norah: I know it’s a bit more wordy than normal

Devin: I can do science jargon, can’t be more tongue twisty than The Jabberwocky

Norah: You’ve recited that?

Devin: It was a test in my first university course, showing pronunciation and ability to memorise. I passed with flying colours

Norah: Nice. See you on set, oh we’re giving your character a new look as well

Devin waves her friend goodbye and heads to the kitchen where Joey is baking something else.

Devin: Still fighting the burnout?

Joey: Trying. Work was intense today but I scored a promotion!

Devin: Look at you go! I’m so proud of you bro

Joey: The feeling is mutual, I hope you know that

Devin: Grazie

Joey pulls the fish pie from the oven and Devin can’t stop herself laughing.

Devin: *through laughter* Oh if you ever wanted proof for your “we’re in a simulation” argument that’s got to be it! Like why would you choose to make pie like that? Look at the tails!

Joey: I take it you won’t be eating any

Devin: Me and my bambinos will be eating excellent meatballs, my palate is refined after all, but... grazie for trying?

When the toddlers are up they also laugh at the fish tails sticking out of the pastry. Joey responds by pulling some of his best faces making the boys laugh even harder. When they’re finished Joey helps Devin get them to bed as Luna’s online office hours seem to have run overtime.

Devin goes to tidy up dinner while Joey starts on some knitting.

Devin: Grazie for the help, Luna does get so generous with her students

Joey: You don’t mind?

Devin: She has work that makes her feel fulfilled. I get the same feeling from my filming, and watcher knows that can take just as long. End of the day I know regardless she and I will always put our family first. A night a week of missed bedtimes at this age won’t harm the twins relationship with either of us. Now scooch over, let the knitting pro show you how it’s done

Devin continues her own project, giving Joey advice as he navigates his latest plant holder. He finishes and declares he’s inviting Alexander over for a bake off catch up. Devin laughs and finishes her own work. Spotting Luna in the garden spraying some errant bugs she steps outside.

Devin: Ciao amore mio

Luna: Oh schatz, I’m sorry I missed dinner. One of my bilingual kids was having a crisis about syntax and I-

Devin silences her with a kiss and lifts her up gently spinning her around.

Devin: Have I told you I love how you call your students your kids

Luna: *laughs* You know what I mean

Devin: I do. You care about them and their futures, knowing they have someone like that in their corner is worth a few missed dinners

She sets Luna back on the ground gently.

Luna: Can we go kiss our bambinos goodnight? I know they'll be asleep and won't know but still

Devin: Of course we can. Then you and I have a date between our sheets. Workaholics deserve treats

Luna: They look so sweet like this. Our babies

Devin: Yep. You’d never know they are the same ones that busted public property and made grown kids cry

Luna: *laughs* Thank goodness you had some simoleons on hand, and the paparazzi had already left. Now I believe you promised me a bedroom treat

Devin: *coyly* Did I? Would I do that?

Luna: Do you want me to launch a tickle attack because I will

Devin: Come on then amore, to bed we go

Previous ... Next

[firefly--bright]

No Big Deal (i love you)

jean kirstein x gender neutral!reader.

inspired by this song by Dodie :)

warnings : none tbh, just pure fluff and maybe a little too wordy. oh and mentions of religion. read author's note for specifics!!!!

a/n : this is a super duper self indulgent fic. uhh i was feeling kinda off and i wanted to write something for myself and something that would make me feel comfortable. i also got accepted into a French based college so,,,, inspired by that, too, I guess? but anyway, this IS very self indulgent, as said before, so read at your own risk cause some of the things might not be understood or like. they might not be your thoughts(?) usually i try to be more reader inclusive since yk everyone comes from different backgrounds, but i was really proud of the writing here so I decided to post it :) you don't have to enjoy it (!) it's just a ramble of thoughts, really. anyways have fun <3

tagging : @a10vely-yutazen taglist is open! send me an ask if you want to be added or removed OR fill the google form linked below :)

✿ masterlist can be found in pinned navigation ✿ requests are open! ✿ enter my taglist ✿

Jean’s love doesn’t feel new. His love feels more like something you’d already lived in before, something that was yours before you even claimed it to be.

And maybe it was. He had offered to sit and sketch with you in the park near your university, bringing you a warm coffee and holding you sketching materials for you before you could have a chance to complain. His free hand took a hold of yours as if it was meant to. And out of all things, you noticed his hand every time you weren’t holding it. His left hand would be free, dangling at his side, his fingers flexing and unwinding until they found yours, until you let them find your right hand to slip in, fitting in beautifully. The ridges in your hands were meant for his calloused ones, you think, and you keep thinking that maybe the slots in your hands, the folds that claimed to hold your future fit perfectly against his. Maybe it was overthinking, maybe it was wishful and stupid, but you wanted a future in his hands. If he sculpted as well as he drew, you’d let him sculpt the rest of your life just so it could have a part of him, just so he could imprint his fingerprints meticulously into the shape of your future. Your shared future, you hoped.

He's sitting beside you and you’re aware of your shoulder brushing his on the small Parisian bench, watching the people walk their dogs, listen to music, talk on the phone, hold hands, share an ice cream. You wonder if they’ve felt love like this, you wonder if they’ve tasted the same taste you have when you love him, the metallic taste of your own pumping heart and the sweet citrussy taste of the oranges he peeled for you the other day. you wonder if they smelled it too, his cologne, but then again, you’re glad they didn’t because if depriving everyone else of the love you had for him and vice versa meant that you could have it all for yourself, then you would. You would sit in this park bench forever, tasting your love, the one you stored for him, smelling his love for you, watching as his left hand danced gracefully on his sketchbook as if it had to show an audience. You don’t dare take a peek in his sketchbook – you don’t want to disturb his craft until he asks you to. Until he lets you.

He licks his lips, cold against the rainy weather. The wind is picking up a bit, you note, glad you were carrying your umbrella even if it would be futile to run home in this weather. You had come across this experience countless times since moving here – the rain starting as expected, as unexpectedly, as beratingly, and the cold pelts of the water hit you with sudden realisation that the wind was too strong against your umbrella as you abandoned it when jean took a hold of your hand, drifting to the nearest indoor establishment. His hair would be damp by the time you’d reach, and it would have made no difference to keep walking towards your home, but the quiet of the new store was welcome, as was the warmth. you’d pant, hands on your knees, and jean would run a hand through his hair, removing his scarf and handing it over to you with a small smirk.

You would take the scarf home every time.

You took a sip of your coffee, relishing it’s warmth between your hands. The heat was welcome on your cool digits. Uneven blood circulation and all that, sure, but also an excuse for him to hold your hand and stuff his and yours into the pocket of his trench coat that was almost always filled with lint, and some days, an unused napkin or a tissue he stole from your earlier café date.

Jean’s love is present. Yours hopes to be, pleads to be, desperately begs to cling on to being enough and whole and constant. You hope it is. Maybe you should ask him, you think, but all you manage is to lean your head on his shoulder and let your body do the talking your lips so stubbornly don’t. you shift closer to him, Paris is the city of love after all, and you hoped no one would bat an eye to you. not that you’d care if they did. he was yours to show to the whole world, and you were sure that he’d let you string him along to introduce him to god if you ever left Jean's side and if you ever made it do the gates of heaven, introduce god to him, abandoning the principles that shaped you, the religion that you were born from, just to smile and tilt your head and show him off.

“jean.” You called out to him.

“yes, love?” he answers with a question, glancing to his left, seeing your head on his shoulder and the way your chest moved with each breath. He waits until you answer his answer.

“you’re really pretty.” You say finally, and you swear this is the only time your mouth has worked to show your affection so openly and genuinely. Sure, you’ve called him pretty before, as he donned on his dark blue suit, buttoning the cuff of his shirt, or even while he sipped the tea you made him in the morning, sitting on the marble kitchen counter without a shirt because he ran hot ("in always hot, babe" he says). But you hoped this time he’d pick up in the massive gaps your dialogue left from your thoughts, you hoped he’d see what you’re really trying to say.

“youre beautiful, actually.” You clarify. You hope he sees through it.

Jean doesn’t say anything for a moment. For a moment, its silence, only the sound of whirring wind and leaves moving with said wind. So you speak again, like you have an audience, like you have a spectator, like this is the only thing that’s worth saying. You’re pretty sure it is.

“like… it’s more than being beautiful. I think…. I mean, ive been thinking, that you’re more than what you think you are. I know I’m probably not making any sense but… it’s unsaid, you know? How much I actually love you. like you say it a lot, and you mean it, and I say it a lot too, and I mean it but theres just so much more to it than I tell you. its not even anything like that phrase 'if you asked me to, I would,' which I would. I’d do everything you asked me to. But its also more like… I know you wont ask me anything. I know I am enough. Like…for the first time, jean, you make me feel like I’m enough. You make me feel comfortable….no, wait. You make me feel… you make me feel like I’m living inside a star. not as hot or big or threatening as the sun, not so cold and lonely and far away as the moon but just enough, like the stars, like…. Like it’s just us, you know? and you don’t have to even say anything for me to feel the love you have for me, like, I don’t doubt you or your love or my love for you which is rare, and admitting it sounds too big and scary, but….yeah. I love you in every sense of the word. Im sorry if I cant say it or if it doesn’t…sound the way it should from my mouth, but I hope you see it, yeah? Like, the unsaid things we do for each other, I hope you know I notice and I hope you know I do them too.” you say. you kept saying until he could stop you, which to your surprise, he didn’t.

He was still silent. You didn’t pick your head up from his shoulder, preferring his warmth to your own. You cleared your throat. “um… yeah. that’s all. You’re beautiful and I love you. a lot. I hope you know that, even if I cant tell it to you all the time. I draw you and write about you and to you, not as proof but because if I say it out loud I don’t know how much of it I’ll say or if it’ll even be understood and....I’m still talking. Shit. Sorry. I mean, I’m not sorry for loving you or saying this. Yeah.” you complete. Your arm had slipped through the gap of his, and his pencil has stopped sketching the moment you started speaking, hovering on the paper without the purpose jean gave it.

He still hasn’t said anything.

You finally look at him with your head still resting on his shoulder. The sky is cloudy and the sun will set in about an hour, but that doesn’t stop the rays to peak through the fog and coat the back of his head entirely. But that’s not what takes your breath away. It’s the way he’s looking at you.

Jean’s eyes have always spoken more than his tongue had, like your hands have talked for you, through you. one look at his eyes and you’d find everything he was thinking about, all of the present emotions in his boundless heart. His eyes were a reflection to his art, to his soul and his mind. Honeyed with specks of darker browns and greens scattered across, the colours being art itself. Better than you could ever try to recreate through your hands, better than the first time he’d shown you around Paris, his hometown.

And he’s looking at you now like youre the piece of art. Not in the way he’d sceptically look at art in the museums and exhibitions, but in a way where you were the only piece of art that he found meaning in, without even having to search for it. In a way that you were the only art that he kept coming back to and in a way where you were the only thing in the gallery that was his most favourite. His heart was also racing, his chest achingly close to yours. his brows were pinched together, almost touching and his nose was scrunched up like he was about to cry, and you were sure he was, noticing how glossy his eyes had gotten. And his lips were the best part.

A small smile. You remembered one time he had complained about his lips, claiming they were the least favourite part of his face, saying they were too thin, but you shut him up quickly enough with a kiss. Maybe more. And he was smiling now. With the same lips that had touched almost every part of you. his eyes spoke their own words and his lips breathed life into them, making something meaningful.

And for you. specifically for you.

His right hand cups your cheek, tilting your head up to look at him.

“I know. I see it. I feel it, which is the best part.” He says, laughing at the end. You smile at the sound, liking the way it makes him move his shoulders and chest. “I never doubted your love. I know you don’t doubt mine. I wish I could say things as beautifully as you write, but I’m not that poetic. All I can say is I love you.” he says.

And you feel it. You see it. You know it. He’s speaking in a language only you two understand now, and its not the language of love as a universal concept, but the language of your love, of the one you have reserved only and only for eachother and no one else. like the trees speak the language of the earth, like the birds sing in the language of the sky and like the fish silently swim in the language of the ocean, its you and its him and its your own words.

Your own love, the one you made yourself for so many years, the one you proudly presented to him, and his own love, the one he crafted and perfected for so many years, proudly presented to you.

And you’re smiling the smile that only he sees, his heart is beating the way only yours hears.

Jean’s love, you realise, is as lived in and comfortable as the scarf wrapped around your neck.

And your love, he realises, is quiet, but demands to be acknowledged.

Your love, jean realises, is his.

✿

[handmade--ghost]

Hi! Once you get this you have to say five things you like about yourself, publicly, then send this to ten of your favorite followers (nonnegotiable) SPREAD POSITIVITY! 💌🥰

omg hiiiii tumblr user any59 how are you on this beautiful beautiful evening ive just had spicy cocoa so i'm perfectly peachy.

1. ough this feels so tooting my own hornish but i like that i make a conscious effort to be kind even when its difficult or at my own expense or if its a tiny tiny beetle. gentleness is very important to me.

2. i'm very introspective and that's led me to grow so much as a person. when i realize something about myself i dont like (being a people pleaser, or having a hard time communicating with people) i work through it without being harsh on myself

3. my creativity, especially in writing. i've actually just got done doing some plotting for a wip i've had for 4 years now which seems like a lot but it has transformed so much as a piece from something a bit formulaic to something i'm genuinely excited about with so much intricacy and nuance

4. as you can tell i'm rather wordy and at times i'm embarrassed about it but i just enjoy looking at all angles of things and communicating it. every detail is important to me and so that's why i give very long and honest answers to things. its like brain maximalism i love things and thoughts. as a kid i didnt mind recess when my only friend was sick because i would have just as much fun wandering the playground lost in thought/daydreams

5. every day i become more myself and i've found a very cozy home in that, in a way i didn't before, in the way i move and how i dress and decorate and the foods i eat and how i like my tea black and feel the most joy on rainy days and love old movies and my antique books/furniture and julie london vinyls and how its often hard for me to be heard in crowded places because my voice is soft and my fascination with insects and the personalized mini-letters i leave in my friends birthday cards. i feel like a snail who's found its perfect shell. i think i spent a long time assuming the perfect shell had all the bling and color i felt that everyone else's had but, forgive me for the paragraphs and stupid metaphor, it's okay that my shell is quiet and soft and "boring".

[cherrymoonxx]

Hi! I hope your doing well I would like to join your Valentine’s Day game please and thank you ZG💗

I would like to go with Cupid’s arrow 🏹

Memorable moment of mind is when I first got my dog I was happy because I always wanted one and I love dogs

Hey there, ZG! That’s so adorable! What kind of dog do you have?

Alrighty, Cupid’s arrow, let’s get to it. So first off, I really kept thinking of twilight for some reason. I was reminded of this kind of gloomy, rainy setting, which is funny because your future spouse actually reminds me of the complete opposite. I feel like they have this strong sense of integrity. They remind me of the “hero” archetype. The kind of person that sees the glass as half full instead of half empty. Justice is coming up strongly. They could work for the justice system, like a lawyer/prosecutor/attorney, or they could just have a job in which they work helping get justice for others. They have really strong morals and genuinely seem like they really care about others. Their job seems to be time consuming at times tho because they do important work.

I feel like this person is fond of cliche romance tropes. I’m seeing kisses in the rain. Hmmm okay, I’m seeing that this person will fall in love with you first. They could be someone you meet in a professional setting, like work or after some sort of legal problem you may be facing, but you don’t really pay much attention to them. Like you’re more focused on your own issues instead of thinking of any romantic endeavors. This person tho feels like you’re slowly creeping up in their heart. At first, they feel some sense of need to protect you because they feel you’ve been wronged somehow and they just want to help. So you’ll notice them doing extra little things for you, like buying you a coffee, and just being overall really attentive to you. But you’re just like “oh they’re so good at their job, look at how they treat their clients.” and maybe for them it did start off that way. They want to make sure they are there for their clients as much as possible but with you it’s a bit different. They start to notice their feelings are more than a normal professional relationship. They realize their strong sense of wanting to protect you isn’t what they typically feel.

There’s one particular time where you two meet together to discuss some information/paperwork that I’m seeing. You both are sitting next to each other on some couch with papers sprawled all over the little table in front of you. You’re silently reading over these papers in front of you, so focused that you forgot who you were with for a moment. But they’re just sitting there, watching you, with quiet admiration. They see the little burrow of your eyebrows as you soak up whatever it is you’re reading. they take note of how your hair looks slightly disheveled from you mindlessly touching it as you read, or how your lips look a little redder from chewing on them. And they’re so lost in the thought of you that they don’t realize that you’ve asked them a question. lol and you’re all like “ummm hello??” while turing to face them completely. And they’re a little flustered because wow, you just look so beautiful in that moment to them. In that moment, one look was all it too for them to know. They could no longer deny their feelings for you.

Ooof sorry this was so long! I feel like I have to get a feel for people’s spouse’s energy and the energy of what the relationship will be like before I can get specific answers. But this makes the reading way too wordy, which I apologize for!

I hope you liked this reading! Thank you for participating🩷

Ps. I thought of this song by nick jonas while doing your reading. But I when I looked up this song I noticed there was another song with the same name by some group named twilight! Maybe that’s why I was thinking of twilight in the beginning.

[lyrelyretheresmeninthathorse]

Couch Cushions

Summary: You and Spencer have been dating for a while now and, on a rainy afternoon, you ask him if he wants you the same way you want him.

A/n: this is very much written with early seasons Spencer in mind which I think comes across! Please let me know what you think! ❤️

Masterlist I Requests

The afternoon had progressed wonderfully, in your opinion. You and Spencer had retreated to your apartment after sharing a hearty lunch, barging through the door together and sharing a laugh over the rain now dripping from the pair of you. And now, you were lounging on the couch together.

The strains of the creepy orchestral music from one of Spencer’s favourite classic horror movies were lulling through the room and the warmth of his figure beside you was chasing away the cold sting of the rain.

You couldn’t lie to yourself, you certainly had an ulterior motive in convincing him back to your apartment. You were certainly hoping this evening would end in a… particular way. However, it had already been a fun day and you wouldn’t really complain if you didn’t get your salacious wish.

You were starting to get a little concerned with his general lack of response to your continued and less than subtle attempts at seduction, however. Other than outright asking him what the problem was, all you could really do was try again.

Sinking a little further into the sofa, nodding along to the excitable tinge of his voice as he explained the obscure literary reference one of the characters had just made, you sidled closer to him. Taking a settling breath, you pushed even closer, your head resting on his chest and one arm slung over him.

Alongside his obvious verbal stumble, you could hear his heart pick up in its now unsteady rhythm. Laying more heavily against him, allowing him time to relax before you made your next move, you asked a distracting follow-up question. “So,” you murmured against his still thrumming heartbeat, “this is based off that book?”

“Uh-“ he stammered, one arm quite bravely curling to wrap around you. “Very loosely, yes.”

Intrigued by such a short response from your usually wordy boyfriend, you raised your eyebrows and craned your neck to look up at him. Immediately, your gaze pulled his caramel eyes to your features. His adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. “What?” He asked, voice hoarse.

You gave a smile, he really was delectable, before leaning up to kiss him. To hell with working up to this slowly, you thought hazily, affection and attraction pushing you to act hastily. To begin with, the kiss was slow, saccharine, and sweet in a heady sort of way. Spencer had this wonderful ability to make you feel lazy, in a wonderful kind of way; with him you felt as though you had all the time in the world.

That slow, lazy feeling didn’t stop you from almost shamelessly attempting to deepen the kiss, however. One hand curling into his still damp hair and another smoothing beneath the collar of his shirt, you opened your lips beneath his. As your tongue swept over his bottom lip a small, soft, and entirely enticing noise of satisfaction fell from him.

In a quest to pull more noises from him, maybe a few that were louder and maybe a few that sounded like your name, you moved both hands behind his neck and tugged. You managed to sling one leg over his hips, and even succeeded in sliding fully beneath him, before he pulled back from you. This was as far as you had ever succeeded in getting; you were making progress at least.

But, really, it was time to ask.

Spencer babbled out a quick excuse for pulling from you, eyes not managing to meet your heated gaze and fidgeting hands awkwardly pushing his hair back into place. “D-do you want something to drink?”

You managed, just barely, to repress the laugh that bubbled through you in response to that; what an adorably strange question to ask after you had just tried so hard to get beneath him. “Sure,” you told him, pushing up into a seated position as he left the sofa entirely.

Resting your chin upon the back of the couch you watched him potter frenetically about your kitchen. “Spencer,” you called when his movements became a little less stiff, “can I ask you something?”

You watched the back of his head bob up and down in a nod, your cupboard open before him as he searched for a glass. “Of course,” he assented, clearly not realising the line of questioning he was opening himself up for.

“Do you want to…” trailing off with pursed lips, your mind searched for a way to phrase your question in a way that was less crass than ‘do you want to fuck me?’. Eventually, you finished; “do you want to sleep with me?”

A horrendous clatter sounded from him, luckily it didn’t seem as though anything actually smashed, before he turned back to face you with wide eyes. “W-what?”

Taking a deep breath, you slowly reiterated; “do you want to have sex with me? Like,” you shrugged in a show of faux carelessness, “at some point?”

Lips parting a few times, a plethora of stuttering half-finished responses clamoured to escape him. You quickly cut off this incoherent wave of noise. “Spencer, I’m just looking for a yes or a no here.” You paired those words with a smile, hopeful that something in the gesture would settle him. “Because if the answer is no… maybe we should talk about that, y’know?”

“No!” He let out quickly, hands raising in some kind of panicked clamour, before shaking his head. “I mean yes! I do want to…” he trailed off, struggling to get the sentiment out, instead he settled for “I do.”

Slowly, you nodded along to this response. Raising a brow, feeling somewhat devilish, you asked for clarification. “You do want to talk about it or you do want to have sex with me?” You were fairly confident he had meant the latter but you were desperate to hear him say it.

The red flush of his neck had reached his face at this point. “I do want to…” he made a strange gesture with his hands before giving up and quietly verbalising what he wanted, “to sleep with you.”

You grinned with a light giggle, thrilled by the prospect that Spencer really did want you in that way. Voice a little lighter with this reassurance, you let out another question. “Can I ask a follow up question?”

With great trepidation overtaking his features, he gave a single nod.

“Why haven’t you yet?“ At his answering silence, you clarified, “had sex with me, I mean. I’ve… more than given you the opportunity.” You giggled slightly at the memory of all those failed attempts.

Spencer stammered before you. “Well, I just- I…” you dramatically took a deep breath, hand raising and falling in time with the breath; he took your silent suggestion and breathed deeply alongside you. More relaxed, if only he slightly, he was able to get out; “I’m not… as experienced as you.”

Raising your brows at that, you lifted from the couch with a laugh and moved over to him. “What makes you so sure of that?”

A laugh escaped him, a short little chuckle as though he knew something you didn’t. Hands raising to generally wave over you, he told you; “because you’re… you.”

In a show that this was not a sufficient answer you cocked your head with raised brows. “And?” You prompted.

“And… you’re beautiful and charming and kind and and…” he trailed off, seemingly frustrated with himself and his lack of eloquence in the face of awkwardness.

“Okay,” you gave, cheeks warming in response to that list of wonderful adjectives, “and you’re you.” You cupped his cheeks to find his gaze. “You’re smart - crazy smart - and handsome and kind and loving…” his lips quirked up at this list even as his eyes found his shoes, and you punctuated the words with a light kiss to his cheek. “So, I don’t really know what the problem is.”

He remained silent but seemed a little more confident, his hands now rising to rest on your upper arms in a light kind of embrace.

Taking your time to look over his features, feeling affection fill you, you lowered your tone into reassurance. “Sweetheart,” you all but cooed, “ I know this seems like a really really uncomfortable conversation that you don’t wanna have.” He nodded his immediate agreement with that sentiment, but his eyes rose to yours. “But,” you continued, “it’s not, okay? I really like you, Spencer.” The word wasn’t strong enough, and you knew it, but you weren’t ready for that admission quite yet. “So, this is just a conversation, okay?”

Finally, he nodded - his shoulders seeming to drop from their once hunched position. “Okay,” he let out, “I’m - I’m nervous that…” his voice wavered as he struggled with the words, “that you won’t… enjoy it.”

You giggled at that but very quickly explained your reaction when he seemed to sink into himself a little more. “The mere fact that you’re that concerned about my enjoyment puts you ahead of like ninety percent of other guys.”

His lips quirked up but he gave no response.

Looking over this nervous expression of his that your words could not seem to shift, you decided it was time to give him an out. “Look, Spencer, how about this?” Eyes narrowing at you, he nodded for you to continue. Smoothing your hands over his chest, you smiled. “So, option A; we sit back on the couch, forget this conversation, keep watching movies and you keep telling me all those interesting facts and you keep translating all those Russian parts for me.” He gave a relieved sort of laugh at the suggestion and, so, you doubled down. “Which would be fun and perfect and wonderful because I love being with you - no matter what we do - right?”

“Right,” he agreed, before curiosity got the better of him. “W-what’s option B?”

Smirking, you ducked your head to look up at him with doe eyes and answered. “Well, in option B you sit on the couch…” lowering your voice to a whisper, your gaze dropped to where his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “I take this dress off,” you pulled open the first few buttons of the garment as though in demonstration, “and then I sit on top of you,” with a wicked smirk you added, in a thoughtful tone; “or kneel in front of you…” you made a show of shrugging, “wherever you want me.”

Swallowing thickly, he nodded - a strange strained sound becoming caught in his throat. It seemed that his mind was busy thinking about something else and so he forgot to verbalise his answer.

“What’s it gonna be, doc?” You whispered close to his ear.

“Uh-“ he stuttered, hands a little tighter upon your arms than before, “um- B- definitely option B.”

Entirely thrilled by his choice, you gripped his collar to pull him along with you as you backed the pair of you back towards the couch.

[vgriffindor]

Still Life by Sarah Winman

There are moments in life, so monumental and still, that the memory can never be retrieved without a catch to the throat or an interruption to the beat of the heart. Can never be retrieved without the rumbling disquiet of how close that moment came to not having happened at all. I think this will be my favourite read of the year. Some books manage to capture not only your heart, but all the emotions that reside there, too. Still Life is such a book. It follows a group of friends from the war-ravaged countryside of Florence in the 1940s to a rainy neighbourhood pub in London, and back again to a light-filled pensione in Italy. These adults live and love and laugh and cry, and their paths cross over and over, redefining themselves, and the family they’ve found in each other, in the process. The book isn’t plot heavy at all. In fact, one could argue that nothing much happens. And yet, everything does. Life happens. All those tender, broken, heart-brimming, nothing moments that make up a lifetime. Sarah Winman’s style is quiet and a little wordy, it must be said. She doesn’t use quotation marks for dialogue, which is a stylistic choice that I normally avoid. It’s a character-driven novel, and it took me a few pages to adjust my pace and settle in. That’s the key, though; savour every word like a sip of good wine and a satisfying bite of pasta. It’s a slow read, and definitely sentimental. But it’s what my heart needed to read. It’s what we all need: a reminder that art and kindness and friendship are forms of love all their own. That as we live out our lives, the extraordinary is made up of all the ordinary days and moments.

[queenjosielaufeyson]

Day Six

Loki x Reader

Summery: Y/N comes home to a surprise or three

Gift Credit: @lokiprompts

Monday's are the worst, especially rainy Monday's where Y/N has to get up early because someone screwed up at work and she's the only reliable one there.

Loki groaned as Y/N tried to get up. "Darling where you going? Come back to bed" He snaked his arm around her and pulled her back into his chest

"Loks I gotta go to work."

"Screw work stay in bed with me."

"It's just a few hours, I'll be back by ten I promise"

Loki looked at the clock to see it was about 7 am. "Fine but I expect cuddles and kisses when you get back."

Y/N gave Loki one more kiss before getting up "Anything for you my love."

"I'm pretty sure that's my line."

"Mine now my love. I'll see you when I get home."

"I love you!" Loki called out

"I love you more!" Y/N said

"Not possible." Loki said back.

Loki soon got out of bed after he heard Y/N leave. Even though it was a short amount of time that Y/N needed to work Loki was still lonely. Then he remembered that Y/N had been taking about getting a cat. So Loki went to the nearest shelter to get a cat to keep him company through the day.

When he got there he decided that he needed to get to know the personalities of the cats. So he did what any logical person would do and lay down with the kittens to get to know their vibes.

The workers didn't even question why The God of Mischief appeared to be having an existential crisis amongst the many kittens that just walked all over him and played with his hair. Little did they know he is in a constant state of existential crisis and he just needs to give these kittens a vibe check.

After an hour Loki had narrowed it down to three kittens, however he couldn't decide and got all three because that man very much runs on impulse decisions.

By the time he had gotten home Y/N had already returned from work.

"Hey! Where have you been?" Y/N asked.

"Oh you know here and there." Loki said

"Is one of those here and there's Petco because I happened to notice a 500 dollar charge to there." Y/N said with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, our children do need food and toys," Loki said showing Y/N the carrier with the three kittens.

"Oh my god Loki!"

"Are you mad?"

"No! I'm not pleased with the amount you spent at Petco but I could never be mad about these little guys!"

"I'm sorry I spent so much, I just wanted them to have a cat tower and I might have let them pick it out themselves." Loki said.

"I don't care, we can afford it." Y/N let the kittens out of their carrier so they could explore. "But I'm not putting it together you are."

"Deal." Loki said.

"Did you name them yet?" Y/N asked

"I didn't name them, the shelter I went to they had already been named because they had to be fostered. This is Ragu Pesto and Gizmo." Loki said.

"They are so cute! Thank you Loki!"

"You're welcome love, you know I'll do anything to make you smile."

"Now I believe I promised you cuddles and kisses after work."

"How could I ever forget! Come on little kitties it's time to cuddle!"

@theaudacitytowrite @the-emo-asgardian @lostgreekgod @lokistoriesblog @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @funsized-mimi @lokiprompts @t-wordy-kk @huntress-artemiss @lokismidgardian

@karuna11 @bamboozled-corvid @purplekitten30 @lovelykaia @fangirl-with-a-shippers-heart @user13cabs @lucymfer

[aiweirdness]

How to begin a novel

Last year for National Novel Writing Month I trained a neural net called torch-rnn on 10,096 unique ways to begin a novel. It came up with some intriguing possibilities, my personal favorite being “I am forced to write to my neighbors about the beast.” But many of its sentences used made-up words, or had such weird grammar that they were difficult to read, or meandered too erratically. (“The first day of the world was born in the year 1985, in an old side of the world, and the air of the old sky of lemon and waves and berries.”) The neural net was struggling to write more than a few words at a time.

This year, I decided to revisit this dataset with a larger, more-powerful neural net called GPT-2. Unlike most of the neural nets that came earlier, GPT-2 can write entire essays with readable sentences that stay mostly on topic (even if it has a tendency to lose its train of thought or get very weird). I trained the largest size that was easily fine-tunable via GPT-2-simple, the 355M size of GPT-2. Would a more-powerful neural net produce better first lines?

One of the parameters I can tweak when I’m getting a trained neural net to generate text is temperature - this controls whether the neural net chooses the most likely next bit of text as it writes, or whether it’s permitted to use its less-likely predictions. At a default of 0.7, a relatively conservative temperature, the neural net’s first lines not only make grammatical sense, but they even have the rhythm of a novel’s first line. This is DRAMATICALLY better than torch-rnn did.

I am, or was.

At the mid-day meal the sun began to set and the quiet dragged on.

There was once a man who lived for a very long time; perhaps three thousand years, or perhaps a thousand million years, maybe a trillion or so, depending on how the scientists look at it.

He had the heart of a lion, and the fangs of a man-eater.

"I am Eilie, and I am here to kill the world."

The old woman was sitting on a rock near the sea, smoking a pipe.

I have just been informed, that the debate over the question 'is it right or wrong to have immortal souls' has been finally brought to a conclusion.

When I was a boy, I was fond of the story of the pirate god.

He had a strange name, and he was a very big boy indeed.

The purple-haired woman came to the clearing in the plain, and without looking up from her book, said, "It's too late to be thinking about baby names."

The village of Pembrokeshire, in the county of Mersey, lies on a wide, happy plain, which, in a few years, was to become known as the "Land of the Endless Mountains."

I don’t think the neural net plagiarized any of these? They are so good that I’m suspicious. But others of the neural net’s lines are even weirder, yet in an effective way that opens with an intriguing premise.

The moon had gone out.

I was playing with my dog, Mark the brown Labrador, and I had forgotten that I was also playing with a dead man.

The black stone was aching from the rain.

The short, dirty, and dirty-looking ship that weighed three tons and was three feet in diameter landed on a desolate and green plain.

How many times have I had the misfortune to die?

The first black dog in the park had been captured alive.

Behold the Sky Rabbits!

In the belly of the great beast that was the bovine Aurore there lived, upon the right hand of the throne, the Empress Penelope; and she had, as it were, a heart of gold.

The moon stood on its own two feet.

The reeking maw of the blood-drunk ship, the enemy's flagship, was silent and empty.

The first day I met my future self, I was aboard the old dirigible that lay in wait for me on the far side of the moon.

The child of two cats, and a tiger, a clown, a horse, a bird, a ship, and a dragon, stood on either side of the threshold of the Gatehouse, watching the throng of travelers who came in from all around the world, before he had any idea what was going on.

I think it’s probably doing this accidentally, stringing likely words and phrases together without understanding what any of them really mean. It’s not that it’s good at science fiction or magical realism; it’s that it’s trying and failing to predict what would have fit in with the usual human-written stuff. Some of the neural net’s first lines really betray its lack of the understanding of the laws of physics. It really likes to describe the weather, but it doesn’t really understand how weather works. Or other things, really.

The moon was low in the sky, as though it had been shipped in from the farthest reaches of the solar system.

The first star I saw was a blue one, which became a scarlet one, and then a gold one, and green, and finally a yellow one, which for some years afterwards seemed to be an ebony one, or even a bubbling mass.

The sun rose slowly, like a mighty black cat, and then sank into a state of deep sleep.

The sea of stars was filled with the serenity of a million little birds.

The great blue field was all white, swept away by the blue-gold breeze that blew from the south.

The sky was cold and dark, and the cold wind, if it had not been for the clouds, would have lashed the children to the roof of the house.

The morning sun was shining brightly, but the sky was grey and the clouds aching.

The night that he finally made up his mind to kill the dog, the man was walking home from the store with his wife and child in the back seat.

Arthur the lion had been pretty much extinct for some time, until the time when he was petted by Abernathy the old woman, and her son, Mr. Popp.

One of the disadvantages of having a neural net that can string together a grammatical sentence is that its sentences now can begin to be terrible in a more-human sense, rather than merely incomprehensible. It ventures into the realm of the awful simile, or the mindnumbingly repetitive, and it makes a decent stab at the 19th century style of bombastic wordiness. I selected the examples above for uncomprehending brilliance but the utter tediousness below is more the norm.

The whites of my eyes shimmered, as if my mind were dancing.

I once went to a party where the dress code was as strict as a chicken coop with no leggings and no boots.

A black cloud drifted by, a mottled mass of hydrogen, a black cloud of hydrogen, with the definite characteristic of being black.

I say I am at sea, because I am standing upon the ocean, and look out across the barren, vast throng of the sea.

It is, of course, a trifling matter in the ordinary course of things, if a certain writer were to write a novel, which is a book of stories, which is a book of characters, wherein every detail of the story is stated, together with a brief description of the theme which it concerns.

There was a boy with blue eyes, with sandy hair and blue eyes that looked at all times like he had been pushed through a million compartments.

The Sun, with its rolling shaft of bright light, the brilliant blue of the distant golden sun, and the red glow of its waning corona, was shining.

The man who was not Jack the Ripper had been promoted four times in the last two years.

Felix the Paw was sitting at the table of his favorite restaurant, the "Bordeaux" in the town of Bordeaux, when his father, Cincinnata, came in to say good-by to the restaurant.

It, sir, gives me the greatest pleasure to hear that the Court be not too long in passing away: but that I may have leisure to prepare a new work for the publication of my friend and colleague, the renowned Epistemology, which is now finished; and in which I shall endeavour to show, that this very point is of the highest importance in the subject of the philosophy which I am about to treat of.

It was a rainy, drizzling day in the summer of 1869 and the people of New York, who had become accustomed to the warm, kissable air of the city, were having another bad one.

Repetitiveness is also common, especially at this conservative temperature setting. Once the neural net gets itself into a repetitive state, it doesn’t seem to rescue itself - it’s a problem that people have noticed in several versions of this algorithm. (It doesn’t help that I forgot to scrub the “title” that someone submitted to the dataset that consists of the word “sand” repeated 2,000 times)

The sky was blue and the stars were blue and the sun was blue and the water was blue and the clouds were blue and the blue sky was like a piece of glass.

At the end of the world, where the tides burst upon the drowned, there exists a land of dragons, of dragons, which is the land of the dragons.

It's the end of the world, it's the end of the world, it's the end of the world, it's the end of the world, it's the end of the world, you're dead.

There was once a land of sand, and sand, sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand sand

Increasing the temperature of the sampling would help the repetitiveness problem, in theory, letting the neural net venture into more interesting territory. But at a temperature of 1.0 the text tends to venture out of everyday surrealism and into wordy yet distractible incomprehensibility.

The praying mules on the top of the hills sounded the final klaxon, lifting their spiked front hoofs as they crept the last few feet of desert landscape past the crest of the enormous swathe of prehistoric sand.

In the glen of the Loch is a ladder that winds way up through a passage to a ledge with soft, moss-laden environmental standards.

Someone whipped a dead squash gibbet across the room, like some formidable war lord unleashing a heavy hunk of silver at home.

One blue eyed child stood up and cried out: "Douay, saurines, my Uncle – Fanny Pemble the loader!"

Jud - an elderly despot, or queen in emopheles, was sitting across the table from the king, looking very thoughtfully into the perplexions of the proceedings.

Oh, you're a coward little fool, as if you couldn't bear to leer at a Prunker or white-clad bodyguard quickly emerging from a shady, storm-damaged area of the city.

Hanging presently in his little bell-bottomed chamber on the landing-house, early in the morning, the iron traveler sat on a broad-blonde sandbricksannel blanket outside the gate of a vast and ancient island.

Long, glowing tongues trailed from your mouth as you listened to what was being said across this kingdom of ours, but growing a little more somber since the week that caused us to proclaim general war.

The night I first met Winnie the Pooh, I had sat in the Tasting-House and heard the Chef unpack the last of the poison upon his quiet dinnertable.

There is, of course, no perfect setting at which the neural net churns out sensible yet non-repetitive first lines. There are just varying shades of general awfulness, interspersed with accidental brilliance.

No matter how much you’re struggling with your novel, at least you can take comfort in the fact that AI is struggling even more.

I generated all the neural net sentences above using a generic “It” as the prompt that the neural net had to build on (it would usually go on to generate another 20-30 sentences at a time). But although the sentences are independent in my training data, GPT-2 is used to large blocks of text that go together. The result is if I prompt it instead with, say, a line from Harry Potter fanfic, the neural net will tend to stick with that vein for a while. I've included a few examples as bonus content for subscribers.

Update: I now have a few thousand unfiltered examples of neural net-generated first lines at the GitHub repository where I have the original crowdsourced dataset. Themes include: Harry Potter, Victorian, My Little Pony, and Ancient Gods.

My book on AI is out, and, you can now get it any of these several ways! Amazon - Barnes & Noble - Indiebound - Tattered Cover - Powell’s

[ceruleanmusings]

For Crystal:

1. Name:

2. Age:

3. What does your OC look like?

4. Nationality?

5. Best Friend?

6. Favourite person?

7. Romantic interest?

8. Hobby?

9. Morning or Night?

10. Favourite drink?

11. Favourite article of clothing?

12. What are some of your OC’s weaknesses?

13. Beyblade fan or not? Why?

14. It’s a rainy afternoon, there’s a howling wind and the lights are flickering, what does your OC do?

15. What is your favourite scene involving your OC in regards the series or fanfiction?

16. Does your OC watch movies? Which one is your OC’s favourite?

17. When watching a tournament, which blader does your OC cheer for over all others? Now who would your OC bet on to win?

18. Something unique about your OC?

19. Would your OC stay up all night skyping with a friend? Or do they prefer sleep?

20. Now tell me your OC’s background. How did they get involved in the world of Beyblade?

And now link to where I can find your OC.

Oof this is gonna be long! (I mean this in a good way! I’m just very wordy.)

1. Name:

Crystal Manning (birth name, Xiaoyan Ming)

2. Age:

15 in G Rev, 16-18 for anything I write post G-Rev. And then normal adult ages if I ever write for them and their future kids.

3. What does your OC look like?

She has long inky blue-black hair that’s either kept up in a ponytail or in various braids, anything that helps keep it back and out of her face. Electric blue cat-like eyes with a long, thin scar over the left eye (which sometimes affects her vision). Tan skin from being out in the sun a lot, lean and muscular frame due to the long hours of chores she took in the village since she could walk and years of martial arts training. Since living in Japan, she takes her fashion cues from Hilary or anything that catches her eye in the Harajuku district but she has a mix of Western fashion meeting her old attire from the White Tiger Village. She’s prone to wearing cropped hoodies and shirts, cargo shorts and skinny jeans, and doc martens/boots or flat slippers. She’ll wear anything that has a yin-yang on it and sometimes swaps out her current fashions for cheongsam-style shirts and loose pants. She’s 5′2″ (note, this is me basing it off American sizes. I know the cast are Japanese or has Asian backgrounds but I’ve always based their heights off American sizes since I was a kid. So the guys are decently taller than her.) To quote her, she has more straight lines than curves.

4. Nationality?

Chinese with some American in her background somewhere.

5. Best Friend?

Hands down her best friend (and rival) from day one, Mariah Wong. They egg each other on in good and bad ways but their loyalty is fierce and they’d kill for one another if need be. Then she meets Hilary and they become fast friends as well. And then there’s Ray; he annoys her equally as much as he charms her but she looks up to him and cherishes their friendship (unrequited crush aside).

6. Favourite person?

Mr. Dickenson. He was the first person who ever treated her kindly and like a person after she was banished and very clearly cares about her and her well-being. While she constantly rebuffs his efforts to provide for her, she works hard to make him proud.

7. Romantic interest?

Kai Hiwatari and they take their sweet time about it because they’re both emotionally stunted. Though, funnily enough when I first started writing her she was paired with Ray (’cause I fell in love with him at first sight), but now I put her with Kai and they make more sense. (Besides, she’s less likely to kill Kai.)

8. Hobby?

Drawing, gardening, martial arts, learning

9. Morning or Night?

Morning. Out of habit she’s always up early and she prefers the quiet calm of a new day starting to the day ending with night.

10. Favourite drink?

Soda or lemonade. Anything sweet, really.

11. Favourite article of clothing?

She has this sleeveless hoodie she loves. It’s white with a gold hood and pocket, with a red band stripe around the middle and an off-center yin-yang on it. It’s the best of both worlds for her, Western influences in her clothing with a nod to her roots. Plus it’s the first thing she bought with her own money that she earned on her own.

12. What are some of your OC’s weaknesses?

She can be pretty damn stubborn, much to her own detriment. She’s bad at accepting and asking for help which makes her small problems grow bigger than they need to be. And she can hold a grudge. She’s also blunt and really lacks tact. Where she feels she’s being “honest”, she’s really being a jerk and somewhat judgemental. And she hurts people before they can hurt her; she constantly feels like her back is against the wall or she needs to prepare to run. She’s spent years observing people to keep herself safe so she knows how to go right for the jugular when she needs to protect herself without remorse. Which then only makes her feel more isolated which then keeps her circle going of keeping her walls up. She needs a good dose of therapy.

13. Beyblade fan or not? Why?

Huge fan! While tournaments aren’t exactly her thing, she loves the beyblade community and how everyone is always welcoming and accepting to anyone that wants to play. Underneath all the drive to win, the camaraderie between bladers and teams never fails to put a smile on her face.

14. It’s a rainy afternoon, there’s a howling wind and the lights are flickering, what does your OC do?

Honestly, hide. She stays away from windows whenever storms come through. She’s the type of person who’d be wrapped up in a blanket with flashlights and a shit ton of pillows tucked in a closet. She hates storms.

15. What is your favourite scene involving your OC in regards the series or fanfiction?

I haven’t written it yet but the day she finds out she got accepted into school. She’s always wanted to go to school; they didn’t have a traditional one in the village and what they were taught only went so far. She’d admonish Tyson every time he complained about homework because she was envious he had homework to complain about. Her reading and writing levels were low considering her education stopped around eight years old and the rest she learned on her own. And her Japanese is much worse because she barely knows the language. But once she joined the Bladebreakers and made Tyson’s place her permanent residence, she turned to studying as much as she could to get accepted into school. And when she finally did she thought it was a joke at first. It hits her all at once that she actually did it and she becomes an inconsolable crying mess (happy tears though!) because she finally feels like she’s on the way to making her parents proud. (She eventually finds out later that her educational grant is funded in part by Kai, Mr. Dickenson, and Grandpa Granger.)

16. Does your OC watch movies? Which one is your OC’s favourite?

She does! Max set up routine movie nights when he’s in town to help her catch up on all the movies she missed as a kid. She really likes action and comedy movies. But her all-time favorite is Mulan.

17. When watching a tournament, which blader does your OC cheer for over all others? Now who would your OC bet on to win?

Always and forever she will cheer for Mariah and any other girl who enters a tournament. Because it’s primarily a guy’s game, any girl that enters has her backing. Who she’d bet on to win is Tyson, hands down. Tyson always finds a way to come out on top, no matter what. Betting against Tyson is like setting your money on fire and then wondering why you’re broke.

18. Something unique about your OC?

She’s a fan dancer! And I don’t mean the Vegas burlesque kind. Her mother taught her as a kid and it’s one of her cherished memories. She doesn’t break it out much as she got older; she tends to go towards martial arts when wanting to move her body and stretch out her muscles. But when she really wants to clear her mind or wants to reconnect with her feminine side, she’ll take out her mother’s old fan and let the movements carry her away.

19. Would your OC stay up all night skyping with a friend? Or do they prefer sleep?

Nope, she’d rather sleep. It’s habitual at this point. She’s so used to being up before the sun to get her chores done that, even when she doesn’t need to do them, her internal clock will have her up at five in the morning and down by nine at night. But she is the sort of person who will respond to all messages she got through the night back to back in one go. She forgets time differences a lot.

Her beyblade was passed down to her from her father sometime before her parents died and it’s one of the last remaining trinkets she has from them (including her mother’s fan and teapot and her father’s journal). While not to Tyson’s level of attachment, beyblading means a lot to Crystal. It gave her purpose and helped keep her alive. After being banished from the White Tiger Village when she was eight, beyblading was all she had. Dricen, her bitbeast, kept her company and his spirit protected her as she learned to live off the land in the woods before moving to living on the streets of Hong Kong. It was there she started to beyblade for little bits of food and money she could win off tourists or city kids. When that dried up, she repeated the same process after having stowed away on a boat to get to Japan. She lived on the streets and beybladed for food and money until she ran into Mr. Dickenson.

20. Now tell me your OC’s background. How did they get involved in the world of Beyblade?

To make a long story short, she got involved when the rest of her friends in the White Tiger Village got involved. When she had free time, the older kids would teach her and the rest of the kids how to beyblade. When they got too old and started focusing on their responsibilities, Crystal and the rest of the White Tiger team took it upon themselves to keep playing and blading with each other because it was fun and with each other they steadily got better and it strengthened the bonds they had with one another. It brought them all close together and helped form the trust they have for one another when they officially formed the White Tiger team.

After meeting her he tries to give her help, a place to eat and rest and other resources that she continues to turn down. She doesn’t want his charity and wants to survive on her own. Despite her constant rejections, he keeps checking up on her, making sure she’s doing well. It’s sometime after this she meets Tyson, taking him on in a battle in the park. She holds her own but he comes out on top and they become friendly. She admires his drive and his love of the sport, how no matter what happens and no matter who he faces he gives it everything he’s got. And if he falls, he gets back up and tries again until he succeeds. And it’s that same spirit she takes to her beyblading and that she puts towards achieving her dream of becoming a pediatrician. She wants to be able to give kids the aid that she wasn’t given when she was younger and help them thrive. The support system the beyblading community provides keeps her afloat and moving forward. She couldn’t dream up better friends or a better life than what beyblading has provided her, even if it did start off rough.

And now link to where I can find your OC.

You can find her at this tag though I really need to clean it up and redo my tagging system. You can also find her here on my FFN profile! I’ll crosspost my writings to Ao3 someday.

[2many-art]

If I were your girlfriend, you would likely be rather spoiled in regards to things like food, as my primary love language is acts of service, and I enjoy baking and cooking for the people I'm fond of. You'd also have access to my massive collection of books, and I'd pick outfits for you if you would let me, though the reverse also applies: you would be free to pick outfits you would want me to wear.

I'd take you on dates to places like aquariums, botanical gardens, and museums, and pack us lunches if you'd want. Of course, I would be up for any kind of date, because what matters is spending time together.

-Paragraph Anon (Apologies for being a bit wordy.)

Twirls my hair - hello, where are you from lovely paragraph anon? 😂

We could bake and cake together too, I love that. Imagine : it’s a rainy day, we decide to bake something together so we can enjoy it in our living room with tea and books. While it is cooking in the oven, we’re making our own fashion show (well, you mostly pick outfits for me because my sense of fashion is very bad).

Our imaginary dates sounds lovely, please pack us a lunch I would love that (nobody ever did this for me 😳😭)

Ask game - if you were my partner

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

Another plus size reader x Jaskier request for you, you amazing writer you! What if the reader hates going to balls and dances and fancy soirees because she never really gets asked to dance and just sits there watching everyone else. But she goes to this one on the behest of her friend and Jaskier finishes performing early to ask her to dance and basically actually gives her attention? Hope that's not too wordy!

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Jaskier x ReaderWord Count: 1,326Rating: GTaglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mynamesoundslikesherlock @magic-multicolored-miraclea/n: You’re too sweet. Hope you like it!

“Y/N you must come tonight, it will be intolerable without you,” Yennefer insisted. You’d turned down every other invitation to the many soirees you’d been invited to by virtue of your social station but your oft traveling friend’s pleas were compelling.

“Yennefer why are you even going?” you asked.

“Someone will be there and I need to talk with him,” she said simply. You quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Him? Will I finally meet the mysterious witcher?” you teased.

“Not if you’re not there,” Yennefer answered, a smile on her lips as she realized she’d won.

So you stood in the grand hall of Lord So-and-So’s house, drinking an exceptional wine and watching a ludicrously attractive man perform. He worked the crowd with practiced charm and you marveled at the beauty of his voice. The beauty of all of him, really, from the chestnut hair jauntily brushed to the side and the loveliest, bluest eyes you’d ever seen that caught the light and seemed to glow. Down to the mouth that quirked into the loveliest smiles between words. You had also noticed the beauty of his hands as they nimbly worked the lute in his arms. When his eyes caught yours he gave you a wink and though you knew better than to assume it was genuine, you blushed. Yennefer had disappeared, so much for her promise of having you meet the witcher, and when you heard the bard end quickly you sighed into your cup of wine. The one part of the evening that had been somewhat diverting now gone.

“Hello,” a slightly breathless voice said and you turned to find the bard standing before you, breathing a little hard as he had evidently run the whole length of the room to get to you.

“Good gods,” you said, uncertain what to do with yourself. Now that he stood closer you noticed other details like the soft shock of dark hair on his chest, peeking through the undershirt you could see now that he’d loosened his doublet. His eyes were even more beautiful up close, the color of the sea on a sunny day or the sky after a rainy day.

“Jaskier de Lettenhove,” he said by way of introduction, unphased by your outburst and extending a hand in greeting. You placed your hand in his and he raised it to his lips.

“Y/N,” you replied.

“Y/N,” he repeated in a breathless, starstruck sort of way, “Would you do me the great honor of accompanying me in a dance?”

You stared at him for a moment and then your eyes squinted suspiciously. You looked around the room, expecting to see Yennefer standing somewhere close by watching you. She was nowhere to be seen but you were still unconvinced.

“Did Yennefer tell you to do this?” you asked.

“Yennefer of Vengerberg?” Jaskier asked, utterly confused, “Gods no, why? Is she here?”

“Right you just didn’t notice the most beautiful woman at this dance,” you said sarcastically.

“I think I’ve made it clear that I noticed the most beautiful woman at this dance immediately. I would like her to dance with me, if she’d consent to it,” he said insistently. He didn’t look like he was being disingenuous and you agreed to it though you weren’t totally convinced this wasn’t a trick. He spun you around the floor with ease and grace, making you feel weightless as he dipped you low without exhibiting any sign of strain or worry for his back unlike some unfortunate dance partners you’d had before you’d given up social events.

“Tell me about yourself,” he asked.

“Oh not much to tell I suppose. I’m a lord’s daughter though it’s a courtesy title, truly. We have no grand riches or lands,” you said, carefully testing to see if this was what he was after. He nodded, thoroughly unaffected by the announcement and eagerly listening to all you had to say.

“What do you do for fun? What are your primary amusements?” he pressed.

“I… enjoy reading? I’ve been known to draw at times, though very poorly. I am totally unaccomplished,” you said, another test that he sailed past with ease.

“I wouldn’t say that you are unaccomplished,” he argued, “Everyone has a talent.”

“Well yours is very obvious. You are a brilliant musician,” you said. He glowed at your praise and it made you smile to see him so happy. You thought briefly that you could spend the rest of your life making him smile and never tire of it, but you quickly shook the thought from your head. This was a brief, courtly flirtation. Best not to read too much into it. Still he stayed by your side the whole evening, fetching you a drink between dances and making you laugh with anecdotes and laughing at yours in turn. You were surprised when Yennefer found you sometime later to leave.

“Already?” you asked, a little disappointed.

“We’re among the last to leave, Y/N,” she said. “What’s made you so eager to stay?”

At this Jaskier reappeared, a plate of cheese cubes in hand. He paused as he saw Yennefer and you saw a look of recognition pass between the pair.

“Jaskier,” she said flatly.

“Yennefer,” he replied, just as enthusiastically.

“I see you’ve met my friend,” she said, gesturing to you.

“I have had the honor it is true,” he said. She looked back at you and the way you looked at Jaskier.

“Well I have had an offer to stay nearby that I could take up if you are… otherwise engaged,” she said.

“I could see you home!” Jaskier offered immediately.

“Is that what you want, Y/N?” Yennefer asked, not acknowledging Jaskier’s offer.

“It is,” you said, taking only a moment to consider it.

“Very well,” she said and then she turned to Jaskier and leaned in close, whispering something in his ear that made him blanche and rankle all at once.

“I would never!” he argued. She fixed him with a disbelieving look and then gave you a parting smile before she walked off towards a tall man you barely got a glimpse of but felt certain must be the witcher. Ah well, another time. You were much more interested in the bard who offered you an arm. You took it happily and the pair of you walked into the night. He asked more questions the whole walk home, everything from your favorite fairytale as a child and if it was still your favorite to your favorite constellation. He seemed insatiable in his quest to learn more about you. You’d never had anyone exhibit such a sustained level of interest and you saw no sign of it waning. Even as you reached your doorstep he lingered, asking you what your plans were and whether you would be attending the ball the week after which you hadn’t planned to but suddenly found yourself saying you would be there. When your talking faded to quiet, your fingers brushing against each other’s shyly, he took a step closer.

“This may be a bit bold of me to request but I wonder if I may k—”

You pressed your lips against his before he could finish his request and he quickly moved to scoop you into his arms and return the kiss. You sought to deepen it and he responded in kind. After a breathless minute you forced yourself to break apart.

“Thank you for your company this evening, Jaskier de Lettenhove,” you said, smiling the biggest you had in a long time and certainly more than you ever had after a social event.

“The pleasure was all mine,” he insisted fervently, taking up your hand to offer it a parting kiss. He stepped down from the steps and you both lingered a bit longer until you finally shook your head and opened the door.

“Until next time!” he called to you, blowing you a final, parting kiss.

“Until next time,” you promised.   

[captainkurosolaire]

Update: Hello, Friend.

 So I want to come out and give some teasers and hints what I have planned. First of all, I’d like to thank the warm reception of me getting more active and being able to do far more threads again my passion and abnormal hunger has returned for this. That I’m breathing in fresh oxygen for the first time in years that I’ve either neglected myself or lost myself towards due to my own personal negligence. Alright. ~ So writing I’m going to be overall increasing this year ideally because of my drive right now. I’ve got a lot chips on my shoulder but that’s a good thing forcing myself to over burden and stack myself against the odds seems to be what I lacked. It’s just who I am and need to constantly be, I’ve never not known adversity. So I’ve got a Budokai 3 planned it’s [this] -- but this time when it comes out it’ll be a lot more stakes at the cost, think it’s still paramount, I keep that annual somehow intact. There’s going to be a new pirate match-type, stipulation, and I think it’ll be fun as hell to build that and design it out. I’m overall excited. Recently I got fortunate and met someone of the goddess virtues who’s led me towards the creative tools to eventually expand my writing into more creation putting that whole clan [TCK] to actual meaning from my youth. So I’ve learned a few things, I’m saving for a rainy day. I def want to try possibly putting and creating my own audio’s in projects for the writings and there’s going to be a few other things but It’ll probably take me much longer to really grasp that. Ideally that’s all stuff I get down by next year, least, I’m setting for my ambitious deadline course. Since self-teaching is all I’ve ever really had and been effective in. I’m a monkey with a wrench kinda guy. Because I do believe, there’s going to be a new ‘War’ arc. I’ve got tons and I mean ton’s of antagonists, conflicts, rival crews, I’ve got fables, legends, myths, I’ve got ton’s of material I want to bring into existence to dazzle out. I can’t really go into my own game without really resolving the stories here and actually improving. With recently my inclusion and decision to bring NPC Crews, I plan on making their own morale's and beliefs, I wouldn’t really fully consider this a multi-muse blog, it’s like a scuffed one. I’d say they’re just attachments or accessories required for the Captain now. They’ll be brought in their own story-lines respectively, I’ll probably just sort of give them their own narratives and their reasons, I thinking they get their own endings and their functions. Got to eventually make their move-sets though and make rival crew’s that have to oppose polar opposite that put some actual struggle in this sumbitch’. There’s going to be more fun in these stories a lot of comedy I want to try branching into in my respectful genre. I want to also forewarn there’s going to massive blood, horror, gore and a lot more violence alongside the angst and dramatic flares or sensitive real antagonistic threats that’ll be overpower AF to combat but can be nerfed with plot :D. These upcoming conflicts they’re going to be literally all pirate as we can get which mean’s some heinous things exist. So I might just make my own trigger warning like TW:VD so it’s universal for my stuff so if people want to restrict them from being seen that they can evade easily. This blog always been +18/Adult though, I don’t have to worry about being censored by 4kids we saw how they treated Yugioh. But yeah, it’s not going to be all sunshine but it’s not also going to be always stormy anymore either. The characters introduced ideally if I learn and pull them off right alongside the readers, will lightened up things and this cast isn’t going to be your atypical assorted, they’re going to be insane and generically outcasts. Which is fitting and I wouldn’t believe it could be done any other way. Probably make lots of fluffers to for impactful death’s. There’s going to be homages and a lot of references as I want to try writing as if this is a long-term actual story or a TV show of sorts that almost has no-ending so expect it to fill like One Piece or something it’ll take 1000000 episodes for us to get to the ending, this game is more likely to die out before I burn out or this site, knowing the direction of Tumblr lately... :P It’s just constantly me aligning the flow and plot pieces cause I really need to learn transitioning better while also remaining less wordy though don’t like setting myself to one writing style as some characters require other definitive structures. Ideally won’t affect to much my current RP thread load, either. That I’ve been racking out and actually putting out. Like the old me is starting to resurface who was able to DM for tons of people or when I first got into this. I thought about stockpiling prompts, but I don’t feel like it’s anything I want to do anymore cause that’s essentially just me master-listing at the ending of a year or Volume anyway. I’d rather just find the time and energy for a good solid day, one shot like I do everything put the quality in and release like two chapters a month or more depending my vitality. The support and recently plotters, friends, and other story-lines to all the passion surrounding that still ember’s on, I’ve got loads of credit to call out it’s been unreal. I’ve never been well with accepting or expressing myself sort of why I turned towards writing. Might try to find a plausible way to make things more interactive too or some sort of swaying branches that can be had too by either polls or Captain’s interactions with other characters who either empower or give him carrying weights during anytime I need him in far-future storytelling to explain and give meaning. Since lot of the crew can run these plot things too in their own dedicated parts when we get past their introductions and ‘the climb’ beginning for their narrative. Lot of these plot points and stuff though definitely intend sharing with plot people or just overall continue supporting other characters as the caped-robin. This sorta just came to be learned after reflecting. ‘why isn’t there anything I can’t do?’ and now I just got to channel this into something cosmically kinetic. So no sleeping for the wicked, wake up every day to thrive and strive to be better than myself in lasting. Well peace ~ until later mateys. To quote in the immortal, K.V signature: ‘Word.’

[akaivampire]

Countdown

I was tagged by both @rebeccaravenroth and @onedivinemisfit and holly shit i am doing my part almost immediately!

Rules: List 1 Insecurity, 2 Fears, 3 Turn-ons, 4 Life Goals, 5 Things I like, 6 Weaknesses, 7 Things I Love, 8 Tags (people)

1 Insecurity:

My overly emotional side. I find myself feeling a lot of things over EVERYTHING, but when everything is get either ridiculed, made fun of, or used against me it made me so careful of showing this part to anyone in my life. and over time, instead of only trusting a handful of people with. I trust no one, which sucks.

2 Fears: 

-Loosing autonomy. I’m more than content with the parts that I could never control in my life, but after a childhood where i had to fight for every bit of autonomy, I value having control over my body and personal choices more than ever.

-Being dispensable for people I really care about and love.

3 Turn ons:

-Someone rambling passionately about something that they love.

-FOREARMS! 

-Protectiveness. 

4 Life goals:

-Travel Europe. Not the touristy type of travel, but as a death-wish type of journey where I can freely roam and explore every tiny bit without worrying about anything as if this is my last journey and I would die immediately after (although hopefully not!)

-Found family. It’s a long story. 

-Become more comfortable and secure in my own skin. Both as a body and as a person. I never want to feel the need to apologize for anything that is 100% authentic me or a part of my body and not feel ashamed of it. 

-Learn as many languages as I can. I want to open doors to books, movies, songs, and people from different places, background, and cultures.

5 Things I like:

-Walks alone in misty woods. This stands on the fine line between being a horror movie experience and leaving this world for a couple of minutes. 

-Documentaries.

-A good book/movie/show.

-A warm and relaxing shower before going to bed. Alternatively, wrapping myself in a warm towel after a short and cold shower.

-Cooking. (BUT NOT BAKING! it gets on my nerves. expect I will always back cakes because I want to eat cake without going broke is thAT TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR?)

6 Weaknesses:

-Compliments. Those wordy bastards never fail in short circuiting my brain.

-A good story. It doesn't matter whether it’s a book, a movie, an anime, or a short something I read online. Any of these, being good enough, can hijack my entire day and I’m either supper happy and giggling like an idiot, or starring at a wall for 2 hours straight and having and existential crises. 

-Good music. Same with the ‘good story’ point. This is my drug of choice.

-Overthinking everything. You know how *they* tell you to imagine the worst case scenario to calm yourself down? well, the don’t have the same level of imagination I have. If I imagine the worst case scenario and isn’t able to find a proper solution to that 0.000001% scenario, well then I’m mental screwed and might end up with a panic attack.

-Turning my lack of boundaries from childhood to an excess of boundaries, where it’s hurting me and I find it near impossible to take a connection with someone.

-(let’s lighten it up a bit) Pollen. Thankfully, I’m only allergic to olive pollen (as far as I know) which makes it easier to avoid, although I’m 100% okay with olive products :\ 

7 Things I love:

-KITTY CATS! currently have 3 super energetic crazy and trouble making Turkish Angora’s and I can’t imagine the world without them!

-Music. There isn’t a second in my day that I spend without listening to something. From full on rock to barely-there background ambience.

-”Gloomy” weather. I say gloomy but “cold” weather are what I prefer the most: Rainy, thunderstorms, windy, cloudy, mist.

-Learning new things. I never grew up from my documentary phase (which started at around...7?) and would watch long series  of 1 hour long documentaries just for fun on each and every topic. (And with the rise of science YouTube in the past few years? *chef’s kiss* I’M ALIVE!)

-That feeling when the room is cold but you’re under a bunch of thick and cozy blankets being all toasty and cozy- UUUGGGHHH.

-The rare conversation where I magically open up and we chat for hours non-stop.

-Going to a new place/ a new experience/ adventure. It’s that feeling when you know that you won’t forget a specific moment even years in the future.

8 Tags:

@fade-touched-obsidian @utsukushiiyume @owlsshadows @thecatwhogrins @nicotinemaiden @jaygirl987 @kaedix @n0nst0pd00dle

Only if you want to!

[justincaseitmatters]

Contagious Vacations: Sarah Vowell on Hawaii’s History

Rewind from KCActive.com by Dan Lybarger

In her books, audio essays (for public radio’s This American Life ) and speeches, Sarah Vowell may be the only person on earth who can describe her vacations or recall historical events without making listeners sleepy.

That’s probably because not many vacationers frame their tales as entertainingly as she can. Vowell uses her journeys to explain how our country has developed, and she resurrects the fears, excitement and intrigue that our ancestors faced.

In her latest book, Unfamiliar Fishes, she explains how the past and present meet in Hawaii. When she comes to Unity Temple on The Plaza, 707 W 47th Street, Kansas City, Missouri at 7 p.m. on Sun., April 3 (tickets are available at Rainy Day Books), don’t be surprised if she makes you want to visit the same places she’s been or dig through the same musty documents she’s read.

Contacted by phone in San Francisco before her Kansas City appearance, Vowell explains, “Doing a reading is different from writing a book. You have to be cognizant that people are sitting there wanting to go home. That’s what most audiences are, people who want to go home. They have laundry to do, dinner reservations, whatever.

“Because I’m an audience member, I want to go home myself. There are certain sections of the book that are better out loud, things that are perhaps a little funnier that merely informational.”

A Nephew’s Help

It probably doesn’t hurt that she often joins her fraternal twin sister Amy and her outspoken young nephew Owen on her trips. The lad often says things during the journeys that wind up in his aunt’s books and essays.

She recalls, “It wasn’t really an intentional thing. I don’t know how to drive, so his mother has always been kind enough to come with me on some of my reporting trips to drive me around to places that have less than adequate public transportation. When Owen was born, you know how kids need their mothers, so he would just come along.

“When he first started talking, he would say a lot of quotable things. Some of it was the joy of childhood malapropisms. I needed his mom to drive me to Ohio when I was writing about assassinated presidents (in Assassination Vacation) and going to the cemetery where President Garfield is buried. After he got home from that trip, he told his mother he wanted to go to the cemetery. He called it, ‘a Halloween Park.’ He captures the weird appeal of cemeteries because they are sort of park-like.”

Even as he matures, Owen remains a valuable collaborator. “Sometimes he brings me down to earth because I get so sucked into what I’m researching.”

When she recalled to him how whaling ships frequently stopped by Honolulu harbor, the youngster was horrified by the slaughter of the animals and didn’t share his aunt’s obsession with Moby Dick. “He couldn’t stop being offended by the entire thing. So when I told him to lighten up because pretty soon that petroleum would be discovered in Pennsylvania and then the whole world would go ape for fossil fuel, he just said, ‘Good.’

“He didn’t know anything about whaling, which means to me that he didn’t really read the Moby Dick popup book I game him,” she adds.

No Dry Text

In all of her work, Vowell attempts to make recalling the past in a more visceral manner than history teachers did in school. Vowell is a huge fan of Francis Ford Coppola’s The Godfather, and her own tales have much of the same intrigue.

In The Wordy Shipmates, she expertly recalls how Roger Williams, the founder of Rhode Island, left Massachusetts in order to escape deportation for his radical beliefs (he felt church and state should be separated because the latter would corrupt the former). He wound up receiving an urgent but secret warning.

“He was (Williams’) friend. When the official militia wants to stick him on a boat and send him back to England, (Williams) wasn’t at home because someone had warned him. It was later revealed that that someone was (John) Winthrop (the Massachusetts governor and the leader of that militia). I would do that for a friend, even one I disagreed with. It made them seem less far away or a Puritan cartoon. That made them seem like they were two guys who were buddies.”

Similarly, in recounting how June Carter Cash came to co-write her husband Johnny Cash’s hit song “Ring of Fire,” she makes listeners feel both their forbidden desire (both were married to others at the time) and their very real fear of facing fire and brimstone. Reese Witherspoon may have won an Oscar for playing June in the movie Walk the Line, but Vowell’s account of their relationship is far more powerful than the film. In case you doubt me on this, got to the This American Life site to hear for yourself at the 47:30 mark.

Vowell can also make seemingly staid subject matter hysterically funny. Her high-pitched nasal voice and her droll, deadpan delivery make anything she says sound more amusing. Even in print, she’s a riot. In Assassination Vacation, she attends the musical 1776 in the same theater where Abraham Lincoln was shot. While liking the performance, laments, “Going to Ford's Theatre to watch the play is like going to Hooters for the food.”

In Unfamiliar Fishes, Vowell recalls how 19th century Hawaii went from being an isolated kingdom to part of the United States. She recalls how both whalers and New England missionaries fought over the destiny of the islands. Naturally, she finds an engaging way to retell the feud. In describing how a French voyage to the islands included collecting data on social diseases spread by previous European sailors, she muses, “Typical — the only thing more European than spreading VD is documenting it.”

Toward the end of the monarchy, one almost begins to side with the colonists because King Kalakaua was paying for his massive gambling debts with the public treasury. It’s no wonder the kingdom fell two years after he died in 1891.

Before you start to celebrate his demise, Vowell cautions that Kalahaua also preserved important aspects of Hawaiian culture like hula dancing which could have been lost because missionaries disapproved of them. She adds, “Yes, he was corrupt and inept. But his contemporary over here, President Grant, happened to be presiding over one of the most corrupt administrations in our history. It was ‘The Gilded Age.’ There’s this golden sheen over an ugly face.”

Forced Diversity

Our current president, Barack Obama, was born in Hawaii, and his multi-ethnic ancestry is actually typical of the region. With the 19th century rise of sugar plantations, the owners recruited from around the globe to find the multitudes needed to grow the labor-intensive crop. According to Vowell, it wasn’t political correctness that made them recruit workers from Japan, the Philippines and other remote locales.

“The reasons the plantation owners wanted all these different kinds of people were that they intentionally built their own little Towers of Babel in the Pacific because they didn’t want their workers to be able to talk to one another because they didn’t want their workers to organize against their overlords.”

A Woman of Many Faces

If you’ve never heard of Vowell or her books, there’s still a good chance you’ve either heard or seen her. She’s been on dozens of talk shows and has appeared on the TV show Bored to Death and in the movie Please Give. In that film, Catherine Keener can be spotted reading The Wordy Shipmates, and then Vowell can be spotted as an indifferent customer in Keener’s shop.

Most people, however, know her as the voice of the invisible Violet Parr in the Pixar classic The Incredibles. Vowell says that she prefers to be typing her books instead of appearing on camera, but says her readings and acting career help her find new readers for her unusual but rewarding texts.

“Being a salesman enables me to keep writing the little books I do. Part of the reason I can write these books that sound like ones that nobody would want to read,” says Vowell. “I went to graduate school and wrote a graduate thesis, and I think one guy, the one who was grading it, read it. I couldn’t contain my rage that this was something only one person would read. It seemed like such a waste to me. Before I’m a writer, I’m a reader. A book doesn’t exist unless someone’s reading it.”

[yeehawvamp]

if u could spend an afternoon with each got7 member individually what would u do with each of them??

ooh this is so tuff n i also dont wanna get too wordy so i’ll stick to simple concepts and then if u want me to go into more detail just send an ask about it bc i’d be happy to divulge sldkjf

this got rlly long so im putting a read more lsdkjf

mark: chill late night playing mario kart n maybe taking turns playing thru wind waker uwu

jaebum: who doesn’t love a nice chill afternoon listening to music and playing w ur cats? this would be a choice lazy day w mister jay bee that’s all im gonna say ksdjf

jackson: i really like the idea of making smoothies and enjoying a nice day at the park. walking/jogging in between but really just enjoying each others company would be rlly nice tbh

jinyoung: a nice rainy afternoon spent inside listening to an ebook together before talking about the different parts of the book that we liked or disliked. maybe just drink coffee and watch an episode of reality tv n say we read too. same idea tho (more like hate-watching n commentary if anything thobsldkjf)

youngjae: not to be lame but i’d love a lazy day where we just watch our favorite movies and order pizza while one of us holds coco 🥰 that would be A Day. 

bambam: i feel like it’d be nice to just walk aroudn the mall and play dress up for the day lol. not really buy clothes since im broke but it’d still be nice to try on clothes to model in with each other. it’d be a nice lil friends date! uwu

yugyeom: i think a cute lil day at the roller rink would be nice with yugyeom ! i’m not the best at skating but i think it’d be nice to have someone tall to hold onto n take down w me whenever i lose my balance lskdjf. also jammin to old bops w gyeom sounds like a blast.