#& the ''recent'' poetry i wrote for her is pretty personal; it's responses to the poetry she wrote me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jiilys · 3 years

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would u help me out for a second. im in the mood to write for the first time, and i think your style is beautiful. sitting down n actually trying though, im stuck as fuck! i’m realizing that in your dialogue/scenes you’ve got a lot of Little Things. little tiny elements that are subtle & just enough. how are you deciding that lily is building a house of cards at the moment or sirius is sitting in a tree or whatever during a given scene? how do you come up with those ideas for dialogue that are so silly & real & sneakily tender? do you know where it’s going when you begin? any advice for just… starting something?

ps: i appreciate you. you make it look easy & that’s very very cool

This is a lovely question!! Sorry it took me so long to get to it, I didn’t want to get it wrong. Also I’ve included some examples to try and explain what I mean in practise, but it also comes off rather like plugging. tragically this is unavoidable. Anyway, all that being said I have no idea how to advise you about dialogue and coming up with it, I think just listening to people talk helps. Don’t forget contractions, and when in doubt always trust the reader to keep up, real people don’t say perfect or even grammatically correct sentences a lot of the time. We also cut each other off all the time, especially when we’re trying to be funny. Like, here’s an example from warm front:

“He’s not even two. He probably would have thought it was, like, having a lie down or something.”

Harry was laughing now, “A lie down?”

“Yeah, a spontaneous, truck-induced–“

“–Permanent–“ “

–Permanent, lie-down. I’m almost jealous now actually.”

Another thing, but people say um and like or can't speak or cut themselves off, especially when they’re nervous. James when Lily says she loves him for the first time: ‘“Wow,” He breathed, “I’m– wow.” He put both hands on her cheeks and kissed her crazy, abruptly, dumbly. Her head spun.’ He can’t even speak! Dumb boy.

I think natural dialogue sometimes just requires you to read it aloud, which is very embarrassing but ultimately quite useful in trying to figure out whether something sounds normal or not. Use casual words, and try not to go dictionary hunting: if you cant think of the word chances are your character can’t either

In terms of concepts I have no idea, but I do have a few tips. I write all my short one-shots in one document (its called ‘just bad’ lmao) so its easy to start something, write a few lines, and then if it doesnt work just start a new concept, but still have all the old stuff handy. if you feel like you’ve written yourself into a corner its probably because you took a wrong turn earlier, so its just a matter of going back up and figuring out where you turned onto the dead end, or where a line could be funnier and/or sadder and/or more meaningful. Sometimes the bare bones of a decent line is there but you have to work it a little.

In this harry/ginny thing where harry is apologising for all the attention and ginny brushes him off she says:

“It’s nothing,” her voice, all force, “Anyway, it’s more funny than annoying.”

The response went through a few drafts, all variations on the same thing:

(1) “You’re funnier.” [too short, doesn’t make sense, and not really that funny. unholy trinity]

(2) “You make it funny.” Harry said, looking at her for real, “It’s not– you make it like that.” [this could work! I have no idea why I cut this, I think I forgot abt it lmao]

(3) “You’re the funniest person I know, Harry said, sincerely, and Ginny felt her heartbeat all through her, “You make it funny.” [jumping from ‘its more funny than annoying’ to getting this sincere out of nowhere is a little much, even for harry who is famously whipped]

I ended up going with this:

“It’s nothing,” her voice, all force, “Anyway, it’s more funny than annoying.”

“You’re funny.” Harry said, looking at her for real, flustered, “I mean– you make it funny. That’s all you.”

It follows the flow of the conversation and I think the way he says it, ‘you’re funny’ like its obvious, and then being like oh fuck and over-explaining it stumbling a little “I mean– you make it funny. That’s all you.”. You know when you like someone and you say something that gives you away before you can stop yourself? I wanted it to sound like that. Just gotta keep in mind how people behave, we are so stupid a lot of the time, we give ourselves away.

The thing about short stuff i find is implying a lot of history without actually describing a lot of it. I normally do this by having memories come up as almost shards, one second of feeling. You know when you’re in a conversation with someone and they mention someone or a past event, and it rises to the top of your brain, but only for a second? i find sometimes when you’re reading stuff people will try and replay entire memories or events mid-conversation, which is not something you do when you think. You don’t need to replay it beat by beat, you were there! This sounds vague as hell so I’ll try and show you what I mean:

From good crimes: “Petunia is engaged.” Lily’s voice, raw and wrong, “To Vernon. Eliza Hunt told me at the supermarket.” Sudden flashes of Petunia, the only time he’d ever met her, sat in the back of Lily’s twenty-first, pinched and whispering. “Whose Eliza Hunt?” This seems as good a thing to say as any.

pretty on the nose (the phrase ‘sudden flashes’ is pretty so i'll allow it from past me). But see how you don’t need to know how Petunia didnt talk to anyone, how she left early, how she was the odd one out: you don’t need to read all that, you already know because she was sat in the back and because pinched is such a mean verb, spiteful and sharp, you can already imagine how the evening went without me saying so

From my proposal take, after Sirius finds out they’re engaged: Sirius’ grip on his shoulder tightened for one second, still grinning, and James knew what he meant. “I know.” He said, because only Sirius had been there for all of it, when they were fifteen, drunk on Firewhiskey for the first time and James had said I think I’ve fucked it, I think I’ve fucked it but I like her for real.

you don’t need a description of the whole night, what party they were at, who they were with, what they were talking about: the important bit is that Sirius was the first person he told, and that they’re both remembering that at the same moment because they’re soulmates lmao. You know when something big happens for a friend and you feel so full of pride & love that you feel like you’ll burst into confetti?? this needed to feel like that, and you only need a flash for it

I feel like I’ve sort of strayed off from what you asked me, which is really advice on how to start something. I normally start with a line, usually of dialogue, and then try and build from there because dialogue is my thing. You might have a different thing! Some people write from concepts or locations, or an image. i might start with one or a few lines of dialogue, write them down, and then try to build from there. For example for the proposal thing I started from james just saying “Marry me”, which I find more romantic than ‘will you marry me’, purely because it sounds like he simply couldn’t stop himself from saying it, like it rushed out. Another example, this thing started from just “don’t be mad at me” “okay” James agreed instantly, because he is such a sucker for her.

When I write I don’t normally know where I’m going! I normally set out to write something I think is vaguely funny and evokes An Emotion, and then I just play around with stuff until I get there. when I write certain stuff and I have scenes in mind, stuff I want to happen, but I find that if I try to plot it to tightly its not exciting to work on, because sometimes you write a good line by accident, that you hadn’t thought of when you sat down, and you surprise yourself. That is a really nice feeling! i want to maximise that feeling.

'What I mostly try to remember is that writing something down, anything down, is useful. Sometimes you write for a whole night and dont get anything useable, but its like clearing pipes. Sometimes you have to flush through shit to get to the good bits. All the rough stuff, the things you don’t like or didn’t work, you wrote to get you to the stuff that did work. All of the bad shit got you here! It wasn’t a waste, you were working to find the good thing

If I had any tips its just the usual stuff, read! It is annoying how much that helps. Also, and I know this may make you shudder, but reading poetry is useful just because in no other literary or media form is language so important. In comics you have pictures, in novels you have plot and character, in film you all that and cinematography, but in poetry you live and die by how good the words are. If you want recs here’s my poem roundup tag, that I do sometimes, or if you want something just now read this by Anne Carson, which uses words like ‘smashing’, ‘boatwash’, and ‘green’ in the best way possible. Also it has these lines: “Recently having learned to recognize the type of tree called sycamore, / I see them in any forest— / the ones that look harrowed, / in shreds, but / go also / straight up into life,”

I mean, think of a sharper image than that?? It’s not possible. Just try remember to stay true to your characters and that in real life, the little stuff is the big stuff. Little things the people around you do normally show they care more than big speeches, and if you want to show love that’s how to make it feel lived in. You want to build a world! the little stuff is usually the world. Take some from your own or dream the ones you wish you had.

This truly was a very kind message and I’m so grateful you like my stuff, I hope any of this was even half-useful, although now reading it back it is borderline nonsensical. I’m going to bed now, good luck with the writing, and don’t forget to send it to me!!

caro xoxo

#writing bitching #said it already but loved this message it was so thoughtful. seemed pretty articulate to me i think ur writing is gunna be just fine!!!#rooting for you & anyone trying to write something rn. words suck and are difficult! they are also better than drugs & sex. regretable #kindnesses

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Gimme Love, 6/9 (Miz Cracker/Blair St Clair) - Grinder

AN: Welp, I'm back from travelling! For anyone interested to know how it went; it was great (if you love stress). Liverpool is a lovely place but I've destroyed my bank account :D

Anyway! We got 4 more chapters of this fic! This is where the conflict begins. I hope yall enjoy.

TW for this chapter: Homophobia, homophobic slurs

2020

The cake was in the fridge. We'd be seeing him later. For now, we settled for some spaghetti. It had become a sort of tradition for Jujubee and me for moments that needed celebrating. But we hadn't done it in so long, what with the stress of work.

"So, Juju, as you can see, I've labelled the pages you're allowed to read, so don't go looking at other shit, OK?" I asked, chopping up a red bell pepper.

"Why? If I do, am I gonna find some porn-y shit?" She quipped, running a hand along with the butterfly print book.

"Honestly, you know all of those details anyway." I gave her a smirk, taking a piece of pepper and throwing it over to her.

I almost expected it to fly past her head, but she caught it in her mouth. Skill.

"OK, but what's in the box, though?"

I almost forgot what she was even referring to. But following her gaze, I saw it, sitting on the kitchen counter beside the fridge. "Oh, that?" I scraped the peppers into the saucepan, "That is my memory box."

"Ooh, that's even more exciting." She beamed.

"No. We're not opening it." I moved on to an onion.

"Aw, why not?" Jujubee whined.

"Because I made my Mom promise me she wouldn't give it to me until I turned 50. But I was weak and begged her to give it back. So now, I've promised myself to not look inside until I turn 50." The air was no longer clean, poisoned with the acid from the onion. My eyes were beginning to sting.

"Aw, Brie, you don't need to get all emotional about it." She had to go and joke about the tear now trickling down my cheek.

"Girl, this is torture," I wipe my eye along my wrist, pretty sure my eyeshadow has been fucked up. "Did I fuck up the smokey eye?"

"Nope." I knew she was lying to me, but she couldn't take her eyes away, "You look absolutely gorgeous as usual."

"Not as hot as you, though." I sniffed. I needed her to focus on reading so I could finish chopping the onion as soon as possible. "Anyway, you wanna read something in there?"

Jujubee opened the book and immediately laughed, "Jesus Christ, Brie, bit dark."

She showed me the first page, childlike scribblings read 'Brianna's Diary. DO NOT TOUCH! Or this will happen to you!' An arrow led to a picture of a grave.

"I never even noticed that before," I chuckled.

"With a warning like that, I better find some crazy shit in here." she cleared her throat, "So starting in 1994, 'Diary Diary, Today, I had a fight with Jujubee. She really upset me, but I upset her too. I should say sorry. That's all. Bye.'" Jujubee lowered the diary, "you bitch, why did you upset me?"

"I have no idea, girl. I mean, didn't we do that a lot back then?" I shrugged.

"I bet you started it though," She lifted the book again, a coy smile on her face. "OK, moving on to 1995," she cleared her throat, "'Dear Diary, today Mommy and Juju's Mommy took us to see Pocahontas at the movies. It was very good. Goodnight.'" Jujubee paused to giggle, "God, I love how detailed this is. You could have added so much more."

"Girl, I was 8 years old. Writing more than 4 sentences was like writing the bible to me." I countered, finally scraping the onions into the pan with the peppers.

"Yeah, but we did so much more that day. We went to McDonald's after, we found that little frog pond in the woods." She pointed out.

I hadn't even remembered that. Now I kind of wished my younger self would have pushed herself to write more.

I was too busy rifling through my messy cabinet for oregano to notice Jujubee just flicking through page by page.

"But, you wrote 3 pages worth of poetry to Blair St Clair?"

Once I found the spice, I spun around to look at her, "Juju, I told you to only look at the pages that were labelled."

She held a hand up, "OK, I'm sorry." She closed the book.

I felt bad, thinking maybe my harsh tone brought the fun to a grinding halt. Squeezing my eyes shut, releasing a sigh, I said, "I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."

She took a sip of her water while I added the oregano to the saucepan.

"So, did you text her back?" She played with the glass in her hands.

I pursed my lips and shook my head. "Why? Do you think I should?" I asked quietly.

"Nah, not really."

"Well, why not?"

Jujubee shrugged her shoulders and went to look at her nails. "Don't know."

I clicked my heel, my tongue running along the top row of teeth behind my closed mouth. "Well, I've been thinking about it. I mean, maybe that's the problem. Maybe I could be a bit more responsive."

She made a humming sound. I was unsure what it was supposed to mean.

"OK, what's going on?" I put both hands on the counter.

"I don't know. I just think…" she paused, trying to find her words, "I don't see the point because the same shit will just happen again."

"The same shit?" I repeated, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, her speaking all but 10 words to you and then completely ignoring your existence." She put a hand under her chin.

"Well, maybe that wouldn't happen if I actually spoke to her like I wasn't terrified for once," I suggested.

She squeezed her eyes together, "Oh no, Brie. I knew this was going to happen."

"What was going to happen?"

"The whole Blair thing. I thought you were over it. Well, until she messaged you recently, I had a creeping feeling that it was all gonna come back."

"Juju, listen to yourself. You're talking like this is an actual problem."

"I hate to say it, but it is. Do you remember the time she hung out with you in the library? You were so excited the next day. I hadn't seen you so happy in so long. You wouldn't stop talking about how she would probably be there again." She paused, "But she wasn't. And you were so disappointed."

"Yeah, but things could be different now."

"And how's that?"

"Well, I'm a different fucking person now, that's one thing. I'm successful, I'm smart, I'm hot as fuck, rich as fuck - -"

"And you think that's gonna be the game-changer for her? That she's gonna come running into your arms? Because if that's the case, that says a lot about her." Jujubee rolled her eyes.

"Well, I'm a big girl, now. If it happens again, I'll just get on with things. I'll move on.

"That's a lie."

I squinted my eyes. "Why are you being like this right now? You're so salty just because I fucked wrote a private letter to her as a child."

"This isn't about the letter, Brie. You know why I'm being like this. You shouldn't need to ask." But she continued, "You've never dealt with never having parents. You think that if Blair was to suddenly be truly interested in you, you'd get over the feeling of being unwanted. Yet you're surrounded by people who love and support you, who'd stick with you to the end. But right now, you don't give two fucks about them because you're too busy panicking about some girl from high school."

I lift my head again, putting one hand on the desk and the other on my hip, "Well, congratulations, Juju. Sounds like you got me all figured out. Hey, you wanna talk about my Grandpa next?"

She only reacted to that with a scowl. And she spoke again.

"You remember the prom? Do you remember what happened? Do you remember how she didn't do anything to stop Trevor?"

My eyes shifted away, just for a second. "She told him to stop."

"Which did nothing."

I wanted to argue how she was unfair. How it was so wrong to blame Blair for the prom incident. But I was distracted by a burning smell. Only now did I notice the onions and peppers blackening.

I quickly moved the saucepan off the heat, feeling it only radiating in my own face. I put a hand on the counter, the other on my hip. "OK, Juju, maybe you should leave."

It was safe to say Jujubee was taken aback. She remained still for a second before pushing her stool out. "So that's how it is? Kicking me out when you're faced with the truth?"

"Juju, just leave, please." I felt my hands clench around the edge of the counter, my nails digging into my hip.

"I am!" She grabbed her coat and stormed from the kitchen. I flinched upon hearing the door slam shut, and only then did it sink in - the dread, the feeling of regret.

I looked at the hob, the burnt vegetables unsavable. So they went in the trash. My stomach grumbled. But I couldn't bring myself to start over again.

Opening my fridge, my eyes were immediately on the cake. And I glanced over my shoulder, looking where she had sat, now feeling a sense of emptiness. Not in me, but the room. Like I was alone.

I was alone.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." I repeated as my hand clenched on the door. The cool air from the fridge felt nice but not enough to stop my panic.

I looked at the cake again, feeling the urge to throw it out the window. Or maybe just send it back to her.

Bitchy, I know. But I couldn't help it. I wouldn't be feeling like this if she hadn't acted the way she did.

I slammed the door shut, kicking it for extra measure. And in my heels, I almost tripped.

Filled with more anger, I paced around for a few minutes, aggressively cussing to myself.

Don't get me wrong, one part of me said she was right about Blair.

No. She isn't. I was going to prove Jujubee wrong.

I picked up my phone from the counter, found the message and began to type with trembling fingers.

"Blair…" I panted, "So sorry...for getting back to you so late... I'm a busy woman, as you...probably already know...Look... I'm just gonna say it...I really like you...I always have...You make me feel so confused...yet so happy at the same time...I feel a connection between us...I always have...I don't know whether you ever felt it or not...but I do hope so...I would love to meet up with you sometime soon...and maybe have a coffee...I don't know...maybe even some wine, if you want. I look forward to hearing back. Brie x"

My thumb hovered over the send button. The only sound I could hear was the ticking of the clock. Not even my own breathing.

I pulled my thumb away, closed my eyes and breathed out. "Brie. You sound fucking crazy. You sound insane. You can't just send shit like that." I repeated words of the same nature to myself, trying to usher myself off the edge before I could do something idiotic.

"Jesus Christ." I opened my eyes again, which were now glossy with tears. I wouldn't blink. I wouldn't let them fall.

Big mistake.

I thought I tapped the chat bar, going to delete the message. But my blurred vision said, "haha, no."

I tapped the button next to the chat bar. The send button.

The little noise my phone made as it was sent may as well have been the same as a gun clicking.

"Oh, God." My eyes couldn't tear away from the small screen. My heart rate increased. "No, no, no, you fucking idiot!" I pressed my thumb down on the message.

There was a delete option.

I clicked it.

'Are you sure? The recipient may have already seen the message.'

I backspaced to check.

There it was, the tiny version of her profile picture falling to the bottom of the screen. She was reading it.

"Fuck!!" I blurted.

I put the phone down on the counter, began pacing for a moment, and looked back at the phone. This went on for a few minutes. I wanted to be as far from my phone as possible. But also needed to know if she had replied.

This was it.

Blair was going to know how I was weirdly obsessed with her.

She was going to know I was checking her out in the library that one time.

She was going to know that I had fingered myself so many times at the thought of her.

What were my options?

Suicide - Not gonna happen.

Running away - But the project.

Reply with 'Hey, sorry! My friend took my phone, haha' - did anyone ever believe that excuse?

Block her before she could reply - then she'd think I was even more crazy.

Call up her place of work and somehow get her phone confiscated - why, though? That would involve Facebook stalking her again, trying to think of an excuse. Even if I did so successfully, she still saw the message.

All of the options just lead to cons. It was hopeless.

With shaky fingers, I switched my phone off and practically threw it onto the counter.

My body sank to the ground, now holding my head in my hands.

What do I do? What do I fucking do?

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

2004

I was shaking. Only slightly.

There was something about the prom that made me feel so on edge.

Maybe it was all the people, all together in one room.

Perhaps it was the fact the chess boys asked to make out.

Or perhaps it was the fear of missed opportunities. Opportunities that involved a certain someone.

I watched from the side of the room as Blair took pictures with her friends on her pink digital camera. There was a feeling of regret causing my stomach to twist, my fists clenching onto my purple dress.

That could have been me.

I felt a hand moving a curled lock of hair from my shoulder.

"Just think, girl; we're almost there," Jujubee appeared in front of my vision, "College is just around the corner."

"I can't wait to be out of here," I spoke quietly.

Everyone turned their attention to the stage as Rosé appeared, announcing it was time to crown Prom King and Queen.

"Well, it's pretty obvious who our queen is." Jujubee crossed her arms.

I knew who she was thinking of. To be fair, it was pretty obvious. But I wasn't complaining.

Trevor was our Prom King, not my King anyway. I scoffed as he cheered, being pushed up to the stage by his team.

"Jesus Christ, who would have thought." Jujubee took a sip of her punch, spilling a drop on her lilac puffy-sleeved dress.

"And your Prom Queen is…" Rosé paused, pulling the result from the envelope.

3...2...1…

"Blair St Clair!"

I smiled for the first time since walking into the place. I applauded her victory as she walked up onto the stage.

Blair hugged Rosé and whispered something in her ear. I had no idea what it was, but I was too distracted as Trevor just stared.

"You wanna make a speech, girl?" Rosé joked into the mic.

Blair laughed, covering her face with embarrassment. She turned down the offer.

"OK. Everybody," Rosé held a hand to Blair and Trevor, "You're King and Queen of 2004."

Blair looked slightly uncomfortable as Trevor put an arm around her waist. Why couldn't he get the hint she was done with him?

The two got down from the stage, Trevor's gaze following her in confusion as she moved far away from him.

"Aren't they supposed to do a dance now?" Jujubee asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know, Juju. I've only seen proms in movies, and they're quite obviously exaggerated."

My eyes landed on Blair once more. Trevor was whispering something in her ear, and she shook her head, rolled her eyes and walked away. Yikes, he was desperate.

"Jesus, I'm fucking nervous." Rosé was approaching us now, well, the punch table we stood beside. "Getting up on stage gets my body shaking, you know?"

"Wish I could do that." Jujubee replied.

"Yeah, well, sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do." Rosé replied.

I eyed her suspiciously. This was odd; she'd never really spoken to us before.

"But of course," she looked left, then right, before pulling a flask from her bra and pouring it into a cup, "this helps. You ladies want one?"

"Nah, I'm good," Jujubee made a stank face.

Me, on the other hand, having never drank alcohol in my life, piped up, "Actually, yeah. Could you just pour me a shot of whatever that is?"

"Yeah, of course," and she didn't lie. She poured me a shot of vodka. No spitting in the cup, no adding anything sneakily, no hostility.

She passed the cup to me, giving a mischievous wink.

Tossing it back, I was totally shocked by the burning sensation it caused to my throat. I began to cough and splutter.

"Girl, chill out, or you're gonna draw attention to yourself." Rosé looked around.

I placed the cup down on the table, the plastic practically crumbling in my hand.

"This is it. The beginning," Jujubee joked, dabbing the corner of my mouth with her pinky. I didn't even know there was a drop of liquid there.

And I didn't know there was a hair out of place either. Because she was stroking a soft hand down my temple to my cheek.

"Brie, do - -"

"Juju, I'm gonna ask her to dance with me," I said all too loud.

The hand dropped instantaneously, her smile falling in a matter of seconds. Of course, I expected this shocked reaction. Even Rosé had nearly choked on her drink.

"For real?" Jujubee asked after a silent moment.

"Yep," I answered proudly, putting my hands on my hips.

"I guess you've never touched a drop of alcohol in your life, loser." Rosé leaned close to me.

"Something like that." I felt slightly uncomfortable now that she was dangerously close to me.

She snorted a laugh, holding up her hands as she walked away, "I'm not responsible for this."

So this was what they called liquid courage. Yeah, it was one shot, but it was my very first. And I was already feeling it. The buzz.

I turned to make my way to the girl I loved when Jujubee grabbed my hand, "Brie, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Yes," I replied too quickly, tugging to pull away.

"Are you sure?" Her brows knit, "You're not gonna be upset if she says no, right?"

One final strong tug was enough to release her grip on me, "No, Juju. I'll be fine, just...stop questioning me, OK?"

She was silent, her arms dropping by her side.

But I continued on in my mission, vision slightly blurred, insides warmed.

Everyone around us was gone like they had just stepped into another world, leaving Blair and me in this reality. Or maybe it was the two of us who disappeared, somehow falling into the wormhole and ending up in the other world.

Or maybe it was just liquid courage.

There were only a few metres between us now. "Blair?"

She had been taking a sip of her coke when she looked up and noticed me. Wiping the corners of her mouth, she put the can down.

"Brianna!" She beamed. Her eyes looked me up and down, causing a brief moment of panic, "wow, look at you. You look great."

"Yeah, right, compared to you." I stifled a laugh.

"Oh, shut up." She smirked.

"So, um…" I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, looking away and to the ground, "I was just...wondering...if you'd wanna dance with me?"

I didn't lift my gaze. Only now did I understand what Jujubee meant. The girl hadn't even said no yet, and my heart was already sinking.

"It's just...this song is so good, and it's the end of the year, and we may not - -"

Before I could continue rambling, she cut me off.

"Sure. Yeah, I'll dance with you."

I lift my gaze to see her glittering smile. Like in the library, time didn't feel real anymore, and I needed to remind myself to breathe. "Really?"

"Yeah, of course." She briefly knit her brows like it shouldn't have been questioned. She took my hand in her perfect french manicured one, "Come on."

As we made our way to the dance floor, I was only now reminded that there were people here. So, we didn't slip through a wormhole. This was real. This was reality.

Blair found a spot on the floor, turned to me and wrapped her arms around the back of my neck.

For a moment, I was unsure of where to put my hands. I glanced over her shoulder, noting the couple also slow dancing. She has her arms around his neck. He had his arms around her waist.

I was hesitant at first but eventually gave in. Blair didn't mind. And I felt myself relax.

She just stared at me, the sweet smile still on her face. The music echoed around us. The lights were low. Pink tinted.

"So, how does it feel winning Prom Queen?" I asked. Of course, it felt amazing for her, but I needed to find an excuse to speak. Anything to avoid the somersaults my stomach was doing.

"I mean, it's nice, I guess. But, it's all bullshit anyway?" Her smile faltered, "Not something anyone in the future will give a fuck about, right?"

I disagreed. If I were to win prom queen, I would feel validated. And I would make sure I'd bring it up to everyone I ever met. Pathetic, I know.

"Well, I can't think of anybody better," I admitted. "Maybe they could have chosen a better King."

"Agreed." She nodded. "You know, literally just now, he tried to use this whole King and Queen thing to 'try again'. Not even that long before you came up to me. Brianna, I've already given him another chance. And he blew it."

"During the Summer?" I recalled.

"Yep." She pursed her lips.

"What did he do, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Oh, he just had some major anger problems," her eyes widened for a moment, "He never hurt me, though. He just...got so angry over the dumbest shit. It was just too much."

She puffed out a breath, the frown on her face appearing.

"You don't have to tell me any more," I said quickly.

"Sorry, I don't wanna get emotional." She looked back at me. "It's just... it's hard not to. You're a good listener."

How should I have felt knowing that was her analysis of me from very little time spent together? She really trusted me. "Blair... I'm sorry about that time in the library. When you mentioned my Grandpa. I feel terrible now."

"Please, don't. You were grieving."

'Was I really though?' I held back from saying.

"I never really had a Dad," I smiled, seeing his stupid smile in my head, "But he was the closest equivalent to that."

"I know what you mean." She began, "My Dad…" she trailed off for a moment, "He wasn't the best. You probably remember that one time I ran away as a kid. When you walked me to my Grandma's."

I wasn't even tense in the first place, but my body felt like it relaxed. "You remember that?"

"Of course I do. It really meant a lot, Brie." Her thumb stroked the back of my neck. I don't know if she did this intentionally or subconsciously. Was she even thinking about it? "That day, I never went back. Ever. My Grandparents took full custody of me, and they became my second parents. The ones I always deserved."

I felt my body relax even more like this was normal. "Blair, I wanna carry on something my Grandpa started."

"What's that?"

"It sounds crazy," I pause, "But he wants me to find a parallel universe."

I paused to take in her reaction. She did look taken aback for a moment. Could you blame her? "Is it even possible?"

"I mean, at first I thought he was a bit out there asking me something like that, on his deathbed and all. But I've been studying really hard, and I think it's achievable."

"That's interesting." She nodded. "So, what are you gonna do at college?"

"Drugs." I giggled before the smile dropped, "OK, not funny. Bad joke."

"I'm laughing, though." She was.

"Um, no. I'm gonna do Astronomy and Space science."

"I didn't know that was a major you could do," Blair replied.

"Me neither. What about you, though? Something in theatre?"

Blair lowered her gaze for a brief moment, "I dunno, Brie. I honestly don't see college as a me-thing. I'm constantly torn between theatre, fashion merchandising, cosmetology, politics..."

"Politics?" I laughed and instantly hoped she didn't take offence to that.

"What?" She smirked. "What's funny?"

"I just…" I paused, feeling my heart skip a beat as a particular memory came back. "This is crazy. I can't believe I remember this. All I can think about right now is the day we met. Remember the first day of elementary? On the bus? I told you I wanted to be a politician when I was older, just 'cause they liked to shout a lot. And you couldn't say the word right."

"Oh fuck, now that you mention it, I do remember." Blair laughed, "That was such a long time ago. We were so little." She looked away as if her mind had transported her to that moment. Did she remember it like I did? Did she remember how she held my hand and told me she was my friend?

And then never sat with me ever again?

My eyes had drifted away, looking over her shoulder at nothing in particular. The bad thoughts were taking over. I didn't want them to. I wanted to enjoy this moment forever. Just swaying back and forth with Blair in the middle of the dance floor.

She stroked her thumb on the back of my neck again, causing a spark to course through me.

Blair's looking at me again. "Brianna, how come we never talked more?"

I don't know if it was just me fantasising again, but her face was moving closer to mine, ever so slowly.

I had the answer to her question. But it couldn't ruin this moment. "I don't know," I whispered.

She was closer now, head tilted to the left.

And I found myself doing the same.

This was another fantasy. This isn't real.

I felt her breath on the corner of my mouth.

It felt real.

It was.

There was a frustrated roar.

A tight fist clenched around my arm.

I was pulled back forcefully.

My feet gave way.

I was on the ground.

"Are you kidding me??" Trevor stood in front of Blair, his face red with anger, "You won't fucking dance with me, but you'll dance with her??"

Everyone around us was just standing there, too shocked to do something.

"Trevor, what the fuck??" Blair went to move around him, trying to get to me. He only pushed her back.

"Of all the people, why her??" He grilled Blair with more questions. She looked afraid now.

Why the fuck wasn't anyone doing anything??

I felt a hand on my shoulder, but looking around, I saw it was actually Rosé. "Trevor, what the fuck??"

He turned to look as if offended that anyone else got involved. How could they not? Seeing her helping me stand must hit a nerve. Because he's snatched a cup of punch from a bystander, "Why are you defending the dyke??" And he threw the cup forward, the liquid drenching my hair and splattering my dress.

That was the final straw. I could feel my chest heaving.

I ran to the nearest exit. Running from the school. As soon as I felt the cool air on my skin, I wrapped my arms around my stomach. I was bent over, throwing up all the panic. Sparks of the bile dotted the bottom of my dress and shoes. I didn't care. My dress was already ruined.

I heard the door open behind me and immediately began to move again.

I tried to run, but the heels made it hard.

The person was in front of me now, hands on my face, tears streaking her face.

I expected it to be Blair.

But it was Jujubee.

"Brie, it's alright. I punched him for you." She whimpered, her hands on either side of my face, holding me tenderly.

My breathing was rugged, trying so hard to listen to her reassuring whispers. But in my head was the sound of the crowd gasping and Trevor shouting.

No one was going to forget about this. I'd be reminded by the stares in the corridors, how they'd whisper to each other.

"Let's go to my house. You can stay over if you want." Jujubee's sweet voice brought me out of my thoughts.

Words still failing to surface, I nodded.

As soon as we got in, she ran me a hot bath. Whilst I cleaned myself of the sticky punch that covered my hair and face, she made chocolate mug cakes with ice cream.

Sitting there in her room, dressed in her fluffy pyjamas, eating her food, I should have felt better. I should have been happy. But I just stared at the mug in my hand, still thinking of Trevor's anger and Blair's distressed face.

Jujubee took the mug from me, set it aside along with her own, and enveloped me in a hug. "Don't cry, Bri. Please, don't cry."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know I was crying." I wept.

"Don't apologise." She shushed me, "It's OK. You're OK."

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

2020

And even now, I didn't realise I was crying again. And as it was too late to stop myself, I remembered sobbing into Jujubee's shoulder, holding her tightly, like she was the only one who could get me through it. She was the only one who could get me through it.

The events of the prom left me scared, always so on edge when walking those school corridors. Just terrified that Trevor would round the corner and do something worse.

But Jujubee was there for me every time. She'd hold my hand, not giving a fuck about who looked at us weird.

I know I should have grown a backbone and defended myself, and what had actually happened shouldn't have been as damaging as it was. But, hey, I was only human.

Jujubee got in a lot of trouble for punching Trevor in the face. But she didn't mind. "Just as long as he got what was coming to him," she had said.

Hearing her retell the event, I wish I had been there. She had jumped on him, tackling him to the ground and punched him over and over again.

But as exciting as that all was, I didn't speak to Blair again. I didn't think about her. I didn't talk about her. I didn't even look at her. Blair wasn't the one to come after me that night. She never even approached me to talk about it. She didn't give a fuck.

So I kept my distance.

And just as life went on without her, she just had to go and message me. After years of silence, she couldn't have left well enough alone.

I finally lifted my head. I reached up and grabbed my phone. Turning it back on, I immediately deleted Messenger, hoping to never see Blair's response.

This would be the beginning of my journey toward happiness.

Yeah. That was it. That's what I would do.

#rpdr fanfiction #s10 #as5 #miz cracker #jujubee #blair st clair #blair x cracker #coming of age #hurt/comfort #lesbian au #high school au #angst #gimme love #grinder #tw homophobic slurs #tw homophobia

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secndlife · 3 years

Text

content creator year in review.

this is such a nice thing to do as a content creator. it gives us a chance to look back on what we’ve done over the year and, hopefully, it brings some pride hehe i was tagged by @jenmyeons. moa mentioned ah! love in her review, so thanks again, moa! i was super happy reading that!

let's get to the game, shall we?

first creation and most recent creation of 2020: first thing i wrote this year after a hiatus was the quiz, a mingyu fluff. and my most recent piece and also first completed series ever was ah! love, with jeonghan.

one of your favorite creations from 2020: catching stars. this fic is the epitome of self indulging and i have absolute no regrets. i usually make the mistake of writing more for others than for me (and i’ve made my peace with it and am also trying to improve on that), but this one was for me. to comfort me and ease me down. and it still does just that whenever im feeling meh. so *patting on the back* well done, me.

a creation you’re really proud of: maybe in another life. despite some issues in general, this is a fic i think i did a great job. i feel it's mature and also so so full of love. i tried to step away from the love triangle or f2l dynamic to explore a bit more on the unspoken and unexplored promises, but that, at the same time, bring no regrets or hard feelings.

a new style you tried this year and a gifset/fic that uses it: im basic. i do pretty much the same thing in general. so i hope that this year and i’ll try to comfortably push some boundaries and get myself more out there with writing.

a creation that took you forever: lie again. if i had managed to post the fucking mingyu fwb fic by now it would for sure be the answer. but as i haven't, i’ll go with lie again. the thing is, i rarely take a very long time to write things as i’m an impulsive writer. if we treat ah! love as one long piece, then it would be the longest. but as it was a series, i guess it's unfair. anyway! lie again took me idk a week and a half? but just bc it's longer bc most of the things i wrote this year, i’ve written in the spam of a couple of hours.

your creation from 2020 that received the most notes: lie again! overall, the pieces of the ah! love series also good a good amount of notes.

a creation you think deserved more notes: i think that when i posted maybe in another life i kinda expected it to have a better response? idk, i usually overthink on notes so lol!

a new fandom you joined and a creation you made for it: svt. i was actually in somewhat of a very long writer's block that ended up on me being away from writing for a good couple of months. then i got into svt and my mingyu feelings made my write this piece hehe

a creation you made that breaks your heart: you keep yours; i’ll keep mine. this just........ hurts.

a ‘simple’ creation that you really love: this timestamp. i think it's very idk sweet and very cheol like.

a creation that was inspired by another one: this timestamp was somewhat inspired by @bbugyu‘s neverending artistry. it happens in that universe. after reading their story i started thinking about poly gyucheol and that happened.

a favorite creation created by someone else: my absolute favorite this past year was @bbugyu‘s neverending artistry. this story is life changing. literally. i’ve recommended it so many times to so many people and i’ve made my personal mission to make sure everyone reads it and appreciate’s it. it's insanely good and well written so if you haven't read it yet, do yourself a favor and go check it out. i've also loved @chocosvt‘s honey boy. i loved every single one of the 54k words of this story. mingyu’s characterization is amazing and so is the story development. everything about this story feels so right and just truthful? incredible!! also, @thekidultlife‘s autumn playlist. a gyuhan “love triangle”? mingyu being best boy? sign me up. the way leanne’s writing is like this amazing poetry never fails to amaze me. her word choice and story construction is breathtaking.

some of your favorite content creators from the year: so many! @bbugyu, @chocosvt, @thekidultlife, @jaeyoonurl, @svtxsoju, @woozisnoots, @babiemingoo, @by-moonflower, @celestialpearls, @tearsofsyrup. sorry if i missed anyone here, i have the memory of a fish but i really do appreciate every single content creator i follow!!!

tagging: all of the content creators tagged above and anyone else who wants to do this tag is more than welcome to hehe

last but not least: creating content is not easy. there are so many nuances to it and it's not always hard to manage. if you're a content creator and you put out one or multiple things in the past year, be proud of yourself. your work is amazing and notes and interaction don't dictate its value. lastly, thank you to all the amazing people that enjoyed my works throughout the year. i tried my best to come out with well made stories and, hopefully, i achieved that. let's see what 2021 has in store for us!

#tagged #this was so fun!!!!!

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breaniebree · 4 years

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Can you share your journey as a writer? How the idea of writing fanfics came into your mind? Do you have other own fiction too? Also how do start a particular fanfic? As in do you make notes, timeline or character sketches and stuff or do you just go ahead and write and then make notes on facts?

What an interesting question -- thank you for asking! This is literally going to be a novel response (letting you know in advance LOL)

My journey as a writer... I guess I always wrote things down, started as a child when I wrote in a diary and then as I got older I wrote a little poetry, none of it very good (though I wrote a poem when I was twelve to describe the loss I felt when my Nana, my great-grandmother died, and my aunt read it aloud at her funeral). I wrote a few short stories, just little things, prompts from teachers in school and such and then one day I decided I wanted to write my own story. But funnily enough, it actually came about through fan fiction.

I used to love this book series back when I was ten called Trash by Cherie Bennett, and I was completely in love with the characters Chelsey and Nick, and when Jazz claimed that she was pregnant and Nick was the father and it did ended on a cliffhanger and I didn’t have the next book, I remember writing my own version of what happened next -- God, looking back, it was probably terrible, I definitely don’t have it anymore. Pretty sure the book series isn’t that great looking back at it now, but when I was ten, it was great! LOL. I also wrote a side story for Demetrius and Karma, so even then I guess I branched off into subplots. When I was fourteen, I started my own original series, which I am still currently working on and probably will be for the rest of my life if I’m honest -- it’s changed over the years, but the characters and my ultimate goal have stayed the same.

How did writing fanfiction come into mind?

Well, with Harry Potter, it was because of my friend Chris. We used to talk on the phone every single night after school for hours on end and after HBP came out and Harry and Ginny were FINALLY together only for him break up with her, I was so livid that I had to wait to find out what happened! I remember Chris and I debated what would happen in the last book for ages and one day I must have ranted too much because he told me to go write my own story if I didn’t want to wait, so I did.

I was seventeen and it was Harry Potter and the Prophecy Fulfilled: Which looking back at it now, I think it’s not exactly the greatest story lol and you can definitely see where I’ve improved since then. After finishing HPPH, I ended up still having different ideas, all Hinny, and went on to write a few one-shots: Almost Too Late and Beautiful Mess. Then I started writing A Different Beginning, which turned into my Beginning series: A Different Beginning, A New Beginning, Why Don’t We Just Dance?, Life Is Fickle Like That, Graduation Party, and The Reunion. Those of you who have been reading my fanfiction since the beginning know that I originally posted the above stories on SIYE between 2005 and 2007 and had then completed (except for the second half of Life is Fickle onwards before Deathly Hallows was published). I didn’t start posting on fanfiction.net until 2008 and only recently on Ao3. Somewhere in between writing the Beginning Series, I also wrote a few other Hinny one-shots including The Greatest Gift, She Never Lets It Get To Her Heart, I Loved Her First (actually Arthur POV, which I later incorporated into the Beginning Series), The River (which is a standalone but also can be read as part of the Beginning Series), When the Sand Runs Out, and then the mini-series Padfoot’s Advice (Late Night Talks with Padfoot 1 & 2, Padfoot’s Advice, and Secrets from the Past). Then I wrote the short Hinny/Romione story: The Trouble With Secrets and was inspired to write a Jily series, which I did with Crazy Little Thing Called Love, which could technically be a prequel to the Beginning Series as I kept some of the story similar. I also wrote a Jily one-shot called Flowers and another Hinny one-shot called I Don’t Like Your Girlfriend.

I didn’t plan on writing any more fanfiction as university became busy, but then in 2017 I started writing these little Missing Moments for Harry and Ginny both before HBP and then during, and then after. I just sort of compiled them on my computer for a while, wondering if it would turn into a story or not and then the idea came to me one day for A Second Chance after seeing some fan art of a five-year-old-Harry in sunshades and a leather jacket while riding a child’s motorbike next to Sirius in the same outfit and the next thing I knew, this story just pored out of me in February of 2018, I had the first twelve chapters written by March and another five by April. I started posting the Missing Moments compilation, added a few more things including the Remus and Petunia scene from ASC and kept writing A Second Chance and in May, decided it was time to share it and uploaded the first twelve chapters.

By the time I realized it was going to be a long one, I knew which characters I would sacrifice and how it would end, but how I was going to get there I still have no idea. I’m not a writer who methodically plots. I have a few general bullet points at the end of my current WIP chapter and that’s really it. I add to it occasionally as I go, but mostly, I just write as I go along. I can’t tell you how many chapters it will be or how long it will take me to get to the next section because frankly, it’s constantly changes. I do not write in chronological order, which means I am often writing anywhere between 2-6 chapters at the same time depending on what scene has drawn my attention. I might write something today that fits in the chapter I am currently working on and then by the time I finish writing other stuff, I realize that it doesn’t really fit there and stick it ahead into the next chapter or ten chapters from now. I write where my heart takes me and where my creativity flows.

I rarely ever work on more than one story at the same time, though I did write the short Newtina one-shot for my friend Heather as a Christmas present in 2018. She requested it and I couldn’t write it, I found it so hard as I like them but it’s not characters I loved enough to write so I did it with a Luna spin-in, which I found helped. I never take writing requests so this was very different for me, but I think it turned out cute: Say Love, ‘Cause We Got All the Time in the World. I only recently uploaded it a month or so ago because I found it on my computer LOL.

Do you make notes, timeline or character sketches and stuff or do you just go ahead and write and then make notes on facts?

Once I am into the story, my notes are EXTREMELY detailed. I do have a time line and separate documents for the following:

Character lists and family trees

General notes on: Political stuff, bills I’ve written, the sacred 28 document I wrote, tattoos mentioned, important dates, moon cycle dates of Remus’ life, classes I’ve invented (what they are about, who teaches them etc), textbook list per school year, notes on each Animagus form and information about their animals, actual time tables I wrote up Monday to Friday for Harry’s third/fourth, and fifth year, details of Zee and Tonks’ engagement rings, history and outline of Dante’s circles of hell with notes on how to incorporate into story, notes on pregnancy, character’s wands, geographic locations of characters, and any other little notes I think are important but don’t belong in the bullet points at the end of my current WIP chapter

History and ancestry of each family (from Harry Potter Lexicon, Pottermore, Harry Potter wiki, and my own personal creations). This also includes manor information for Potter, Black, Longbottom, Nott, and Malfoy.

Hogwarts lay-out including stuff I’ve added or made up

Ministry of Magic departments and people (known and created)

List of spells (including ones I’ve made up and which chapter and which character introduced it to who)

List and pictures of Sirius’ motorbikes with information on each one

List of Pensieve memories and marauder moments (crossed out which ones I’ve shared already, some are written and waiting to be used and others just a general idea)

Terms and phrases from different languages I’ve used in the past

My playlist of songs I have mentioned in the story

An entire document dedicated to Operation FUVP including a Voldemort timeline which I have now shared in the story itself (also includes when and where each character found the Horcruxes)

A list of some of the recipes I mentioned, and

I have a 72 page document that is literally just detailed chapter summaries to help me remember what the hell I’ve written LOL (also highlights introductions to new characters in a different font colour to help me find out when people were introduced).

Hope this answers your question -- thank you again for asking!

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citylightsbooks · 4 years

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5 Questions with Megan Fernandes, Author of Good Boys

Megan Fernandes is a writer and academic living in New York City. She is the author of The Kingdom and After (Tightrope Books 2015) and the new book of poems, Good Boys (published by Tin House). Her work has been published or is forthcoming in the New Yorker, Tin House, Ploughshares, Denver Quarterly, Chicago Review, Boston Review, Rattle, Pank, the Common, Guernica, the Academy of American Poets, and McSweeney's Internet Tendency, among others. She is a poetry reader for The Rumpus and an Assistant Professor of English at Lafayette College. She holds a PhD in English from the University of California, Santa Barbara and an MFA in poetry from Boston University. She reads from her new book Good Boys with special guests at City Lights Bookstore on Tuesday, February 25th.

***

City Lights: If you’ve been to City Lights before, what’s your memory of the visit? If you haven’t been here before, what are you expecting?

Megan Fernandes: Of all the places I’m reading this Spring (and it’s probably not politic to say this), I am most excited to read at City Lights. I’ve never been, but I understood at a very young age that the bookstore symbolized possibility, spontaneity, digression, lostness, community, etc. As a teenager, I read a lot of Beat literature, my favorites being Dharma Bums, In the Night Café, and everything Ginsberg. I was compelled by their portraits of America’s expansiveness. And I also just think as an immigrant kid not born in the USA, the Beats gave me some sense of American geography. I went to Colorado for the first time last year and I had this memory of my first impression of Colorado as a place described in On the Road. When traveling across the country, I often have Ferlinghetti’s feverish, twitchy, carnivalesque poetics in my head. I also think in this indirect way, Beat literature shaped some of my thoughts around feminist thinking as I was conscious of my orientation as outside certain privileges of the “male, womanizing adventurer” often romanticized in Beat lit. I had to interrogate what it meant to feel intimacies with Ginsberg and Duncan who were destabilizing masculinities and cultural logics of hate.

And so what I learned from City Lights and Beat lit is really something about the relationship between myth-making and counter-culture communities. I’m understanding the truly expansive network of the movement in so much more detail right now while reading an advanced copy of a fabulous new book called The Beats: A Literary History by Steven Belletto.

What are you reading right now?

I’m reading a book called Dapper Dan: Made in Harlem, co-written by Dapper Dan himself and my good friend, Mikael Awake. It’s a history of Dapper Dan’s iconic work in fashion, of course, while being really intimate. And it’s just as much a history of his family’s internal dynamics and, through his family, New York City at large. In particular, 1970’s NYC is so vividly, brilliantly wrought in this book.

There’s this one section where Dap is at Iona College at a lecture on protohistory and the professor, a Czech immigrant, tells the class that “In order for man to have survived during those ancient times… he must have had powers that he doesn’t have now. The only people that could possibly still have these powers today are the black and brown people on the planet” and when Dap hears this, he is transfixed. He says: “This is one of the most esteemed scholars at Iona College telling a packed lecture hall that black and brown people were the only ones on the planet who still had spiritual powers. How come this was my first time hearing about that? I looked around. I was the only black student in the class. I wasn’t tired anymore. He had my full attention… I said to myself, This is what I need to know. This is how I need to formulate myself.” I’m loving how the book captures these intense moments of transformation. I love that word choice: formulate. What poetic agency is modeled in that word? I needed that word the moment I read it.

Recently, I’ve also read Samiya Bashir’s Field Theories and Edgar Kunz’s Tap Out. Samiya wrote this legitimately weird and imaginative book that feels like it’s made out of the time-space continuum. Some cosmic materiality is really showing up in that book. I remember this line: “A body. A zoo. A lovely savannah. Walls of clear, clean glass” and I’m just on a ride with the musicality of her shifting assonance. Plus, I know that writers like June Jordan and Toni Cade Bambara are operating influences/specters of the book and you can feel that energy. Edgar’s book is more narrative and quieter, but so devastating. I sort of get what makes his speakers tenderize if that makes sense. I think it’s the same phenomena that tenderizes me, too.

Some of my favorite novels of recent years includes A Questionable Shape by Bennett Sims, The Small Backs of Children by Lidia Yuknavitch, Sonora by Hannah Lillith Assadi, and very recently, The Nickel Boys by Colson Whitehead.

What book or writer do you always find yourself recommending?

I think Jean Toomer’s Cane is the most beautiful book of the 20th century. I remember just being blown away by its call and response, the repeating imagery of sun and smoke and pines. That book is so stunning. Other astounding work that I always recommend includes Mebvh McGuckian’s Captain Lavender, Anne Carson’s The Autobiography of Red, Evie Shockley’s The New Black, Franz Wright’s Walking to Martha’s Vineyard, Eleni Sikelianos’ Body Clock, Jorie Graham’s The Errancy, Bhanu Kapil’s The Vertical Interrogation of Strangers, The Collected Poems of W.B. Yeats, and Galway Kinnell and Hannah Liebmann’s translations of Rilke. Those are my hard-hitters. Those books are why I became a poet.

What writers/artists/people do you find the most influential to the writing of this book and/or your writing in general?

You know, I collected poems while I was writing and editing this book. And I think those specific poems created a kind of constellation around me, almost protective, that kept me writing. Some of those poems include “The Long Recovery” by Ellen Bass, “A Matter of Balance,” by Evie Shockley, “What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why” by Edna St. Vincent Millay, “I am Not Seaworthy” by Toni Morrison, “Becoming Regardless” by Jack Spicer, “A New Bride Almost Visible in Latin” by Jack Gilbert, “To the Young Who Want to Die” by Gwendolyn Brooks and many, many others. Definitely O’Hara as well. He never leaves me. The most important poem of that little self-curated archive is Frank Bidart’s “Visions at 74” where he writes: “To love existence / is to love what is indifferent to you.” I remember reading that line and just losing it. I have been guided by so much of Bidart. And maybe my book is a little bit about how to sustain rage in the face of that which is indifferent to you, what cannot love you (both personally and abstractly). How do you sustain rage so as to not fall into despair?

I also listened to a variety of music while writing and editing. A mix between contemporary sad kid hip-hop, old school jazz and blues, gospel, 80’s bands, pop culture queens, 1970’s hypnotic modal vamp, classical Spanish guitar, electronic pop, really pretty varied. A few names that come to mind: KOTA the Friend, NoName, Vince Staples, Travis Scott, Miles Davis Quintet, Bessie Smith, Sam Cooke, The Knocks, Solange, Archie Shepp, Pharoah Sanders, Alice Coltrane, Big Mama Thornton, Miriam Makeba, Kamasi Washington, Thompson Twins, Misfits, Bowie, Talking Heads, Tears for Fears, Cher, Whitney Houston, Portishead, Goldfrapp, Memphis Slim, Dinah Washington, Alberto Iglesias, Gustavo Santaolalla, Holychild, Blood Orange, etc.

If you opened a bookstore, where would it be located, what would it be called, and what would your bestseller be?

My grandpa played violin on a ship that sailed between Tanga, Tanzania and Goa, India. I never had the chance to meet him. He died when my dad was sixteen, but I always thought about what that journey might have looked and felt like, its many hardships, but also the wonder of gazing out at the sea playing strings. For that reason, I’d love to open a bookstore that focused specifically on Indian Ocean diaspora and sold books exclusively by authors working, uncovering, or investigating the literature of that oceanic rim. I think there is something rich in thinking about books not necessarily focused on nation-statehood but thinking more about a kind of social-imaginary with a literature that is messy in its conceptualization and crosses, migrates, misses, and mythologizes across many cultures over generations. You could have sections on food, underwater exploration, piracy, long-distance intimacy, trade routes, empire, transnational feminism. I like the idea of a bookstore that is anti-genre and instead, organized by associative thinking and imagination. It would be a logistical nightmare. You would never find what you were looking for, but you might find something you didn’t know existed.

So yes, I’d vote for a little homegrown network of bookstores in India, East Africa, and actually, maybe one of them in Lisbon which is a city that has a long (and problematic) history with the Indian Ocean. I’ve spent a lot of time in Lisbon the past eight years of my life, spending time visiting family and researching the history of the Portuguese empire especially as it relates to my family history (my folks are third generation East African Portuguese colonized Indians). I have a lot of conflicting homelands which is a way of saying that there are times when I feel like I have nothing but a rootless present. That’s something I investigate in my work, that weird (a)temporality. And I’m drawn to the particular light of Lisbon which is quite unusual. I’d call the bookstore “Malaika” which means “Angel” in Swahili and is the favorite folk song of my parents who grew up in Tanzania. I like the idea of a bookstore in Lisbon with the name in Swahili run by a Goan-Canadian-American woman. That’s the world I grew up in… one of multiplicities.

#Megan Fernandas #City Lights Bookstore #Tin House Books #Good Boys

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gold-from-straw · 5 years

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Crush

This is a fic I wrote after I accidentally flirted with @unticka by telling her I had a crush on the person in her profile pic.

And then found out it was her ACTUAL FACE and had to go and crawl into a hole. Luckily she agreed it should be a Cherik fic so here we go lol!

Read this utterly silly fluffy thing on AO3 if you prefer ^_^ Warnings for some allusion to past drug addiction and lots of Erik being a socially anxious bean.

Erik’s phone buzzed and he picked it up, smirking at the comment Charles had added to their chat.

CX: I swear on all that’s holy if one of you brings Jaegermeister to my party this year I will scream

CX: I found the last bottle in the back of my cupboard. I can smell it through the glass I am not even joking

Erik pushed himself forwards and quickly typed brb, just going to the liquor store, grinning as it appeared on the screen.

Raven cleared her throat, and Erik looked up. “Are you quite finished?” she asked, raising one eyebrow. “I’m glad you’re enjoying the group chat I invited you to join, but I am now sitting in front of you. In the flesh. Buying you coffee.”

“Sorry,” he grinned sheepishly and put his phone away.

“It’s fine,” she smirked. “You and Charles are getting along well, I see.”

“He’s an idealistic idiot,” said Erik immediately.

She nodded and sipped her latte. “And he makes you laugh. Honestly, you two need to just start messaging each other directly, let the rest of us get a look in on the group chat.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, his face dropping. “I never meant to irritate anyone.”

She shook her head. “You’re not, really, I’m only teasing. Don’t take me seriously, Erik, you know I’m full of shit.”

He twisted his lips and nodded, but he didn’t believe her. There was no smoke without fire, after all, and she had been kind enough to introduce him to all of her friends when he moved to New York. He didn’t know what he’d have done without those contacts. The only reason he hadn’t spent his entire first month in his apartment alone was because of Raven and her friends.

She put her hand over his, squeezing gently. “I’m sorry, Erik, I really was only joking.”

“Are you sure I’m not imposing on the group?”

“Absolutely. Look, you’ll see on Friday when we all get together for Charles’ birthday up in Westchester. I know you’ve met Sean and Emma already, the others are looking forward to getting to know you in person too. And if you and Charles start debating politics again there are plenty of empty rooms we can lock you in together until you sort your shit out. We’ll just eat the pizza and watch the movie.”

“Without the birthday boy?” Erik laughed.

“Oh, a good argument will be Charles’ favourite birthday gift of the day, trust me,” Raven said, flicking her red hair back.

Erik tucked his phone into his bag and focused completely on Raven for the next couple of hours, discussing the latest gossip, the assignment Raven had to do on her poetry module and whether Erik had found an actual bed, yet, or if he was still sleeping on the futon they’d found on Craigslist when he first arrived in New York.

Erik was proud of himself for not having glanced at his phone until he was walking the last stretch between the subway and his apartment. A new message showed up on his phone, and Erik would have denied to his dying day that he got a little jolt under his sternum when he saw the name come up - Charles Xavier. He clicked on the notification.

CX: My friends tell me I need to talk to you directly rather than through the group chat. Apparently we’re clogging up the airwaves.

Erik’s smile pulled at his cheeks and he tugged his bag higher on his shoulder, freeing up both hands to type.

EL: Raven told me the same thing

CX: They’re obviously just jealous

EL: Or not nearly interesting enough.

Charles sent back a laughing emoji and Erik tapped on his profile picture, trying to enlarge it a little, as he so often did when he spoke to Charles. He’d always idly thought that someone’s profile picture could tell you a little bit about them. His own was a picture of a great white shark that Raven had texted him from the aquarium saying ‘he’s got your smile’. Hank had a picture of a southern blotting array, apparently - he’d asked, once, and left none the wiser. Moira and Sean had pictures of actors, Emma had a picture of herself flipping the bird, and Raven’s picture changed every couple of days, a landscape, a piece of artwork, a macro close up of a leaf, whatever she felt like at the time.

Charles’ photo had to be of an actor or a celebrity of some sort. The photo was clearly professionally taken, for a magazine or something. The man in the picture had dark brown hair falling in waves around his face, a broad nose and the most gorgeous lips, quirked into a half smile, as if the actor, whoever he was, didn’t want the photographer to know he was amused. He was wearing a blazer, his blue shirt open at the top few buttons to show tantalizing hints of collarbone and freckles. And his eyes. Oh, dear god, his eyes, so wide and blue and staring right into Erik’s soul.

Erik definitely had a crush on the nameless actor. But the best thing about it was that if Charles had a picture of some pretty actor on his profile, he was also probably, maybe, possibly queer himself.

His phone chimed, and he clicked back off the picture.

CX: Raven tells me you’re definitely coming to the party on Friday! It’ll be good to meet you in person, my friend

EL: Thank you for inviting me - are you sure you want a complete stranger there??

CX: You’re hardly a stranger, we’ve been talking for weeks!

Erik found himself smiling again. Charles was so cheerful and friendly - what on earth was he doing chatting with a sarcastic misanthrope like Erik all the time?

EL: You’ve all been very kind. The people who told me New Yorkers were unfriendly are bastard liars

CX: Ah, well, I’m hardly a New Yorker, I’m afraid. I’m only Raven’s step-brother, and never managed to pick up the accent. I’m English

EL: To be fair people tell me the English are unfriendly too. Liars, the lot of them

Charles sent another laughing emoji, and Erik wondered what Charles sounded like when he laughed. He wondered what he looked like, for that matter.

EL: Can I bring anything to the party?

CX: Only yourself, please.

He didn’t know what it was that made him ask. What was he thinking? He couldn’t even blame the alcohol, because Raven and Sean had been monopolising most of that on the drive up to Westchester, and he couldn’t blame his giddy mood on the others, because Moira had been talking to him most of the trip about the recent opinion polls. So why? Why in the name of all that’s holy had he sat back after they stopped to pick up some more beer, opened up the messaging app and texted Charles?

EL: I have to confess, I’ve got a massive crush on the guy in your profile picture, and it’s driving me mad - who is he? I don’t recognise him from any films

And then the reply that made the bottom drop out of Erik’s world and made his stomach cold with horror.

CX: Oh… well, that’s very flattering. It’s a picture Raven took of me a couple of years ago

And now what the hell was Erik going to do? He couldn’t ask Moira to stop the car so he could run out into the woods and become a hermit. He couldn’t exactly brush it off. He couldn’t take it back. What he wouldn’t do for the ability to go back in time and tell him to leave his fucking phone alone.

He wanted to apologise, but why would Charles even want to talk to him? How creepy was it to hear someone had been checking out a picture of you? He’d thought it was a photo of an actor, but there was no way he’d ever have told the actor he found him captivating. What was Charles meant to do with this information now, when Erik was about to turn up at his door and impose on his hospitality for hours?

Part of him wanted to send him a photo of himself as some sort of twisted apology, but what was that meant to do? Was Charles meant to go ‘oh, I too have a crush on you!’

“What’s up, Erik?” Raven asked, shoving his shoulder.

“I just told accidentally told someone I have a crush on them,” he croaked, just taking Charles’ name out of the equation before he could fuck things up even further.

“How the hell did you do that?” she laughed, taking another draw of her beer.

“I didn’t know it was their picture,” he moaned. “I just wanted to know which actor it was and it was them.”

“Show me!” she said, grabbing for his phone. He stuffed it between his legs, and she narrowed her eyes at him, calculating. “Don’t think that’s a no-go area for me, Lehnsherr.”

“How am I going to look them in the eye now?” Erik wailed instead, covering his face with his hands.

“I bet she was pleased,” Sean said, turning around from the front passenger seat. “It’s a compliment, isn’t it? Not like you were creepy to the girl, were you?”

“No,” he said, not bothering to correct Sean’s assumptions. “I mean, not deliberately… but it’s creepy to think someone’s been looking at your picture that way, isn’t it?”

“Only if you’ve been wanking over it,” Sean shrugged.

“Sean!” yelped Moira, slapping him on the arm.

“Hey! It’s true, isn’t it?”

Raven patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, man,” she said. “Whoever it is would be lucky to have you perving over them.”

“Oh god, don’t put it that way!” he yelled.

***

He spent the rest of the drive trying to work out what to say in response, to work out exactly how he could apologise and regain a little bit of his pride. He knew he was overthinking this, Raven, Sean and Moira had changed the subject and started chatting about something else quickly enough, but he was already worked up about meeting so many new people, to have made such a social faux pas before he’d even met them was almost unbearable. So much for thinking he’d got his social anxiety under control.

The worst thing about it, the thing he really couldn’t admit to, wasn’t that he’d just told some stranger he thought he was pretty. It was that he’d told Charles he had a crush on his face. Charles. He already had a fucking crush on Charles through his messages! Now he was going to have to meet him for the first time without being able to hide his feelings, rather than feeling out whether Charles would be open to maybe going out for coffee or dinner with him, he was dumped straight past that careful searching right into blurting out ‘gosh you’re pretty!’

And then he had to walk up the drive to the most fucking gorgeous mansion, Raven making sarcastic comments about how she fucking hated the place and she didn’t know how Charles could stand living in all the bitter memories of their shitty childhood, and he wondered if anyone would notice if he just… ran off round the side and didn’t stop until he found some summerhouse or something - Americans had those, didn’t they? - and just hid there until he could sneak back into the car at the end of the party.

Raven shoved the door open. “Charles? Hey, birthday boy!”

Emma poked her head around the corner. “He disappeared somewhere about fifteen minutes ago, we were gonna send a search party. But you guys have beer, so fuck that!” She kissed them all in turn, waving them through to a huge panelled living room where people were scattered over leather couches and a pool table that had been pushed to the side. “Hey, everyone! This is Erik, be nice.” She smirked at him and left.

Erik stood tall and smiled at everyone. Mistake. A gangly lad slouching on the pool table actually squeaked. It seemed Erik had smiled like thatagain.

He toned it down and went to put his beers on a desk that was really never meant to be abused in such a way. The crowd mostly went back to their conversations, and Erik felt like he could breathe again. At least until Charles came back.

But he didn’t come back. Another fifteen minutes passed. He made awkward conversation with a blond kid who looked about nineteen and like he’d be more at home in a biker gang, and then much less awkward conversation with a guy called Darwin who had some interesting opinions about the state of the education system, but got called away mid-rant.

And Charles still wasn’t there. Nobody seemed too bothered, but Erik couldn’t help feeling like it was his fault somehow. Like he’d made things weird and Charles didn’t want to see the guy who’d been enlarging his profile photo to get a better look at his beautiful blue eyes.

Fuck. He needed to get out of there. He slipped quietly away from the room, back into a corridor, trying to find the main door, but the place was bloody huge. He must have taken the wrong turning somewhere. That door looked right - he turned the handle and… well, that was definitely not the door to the kitchen. “Oh, shit, I’m so sorry!”

The man in the wheelchair turned, long brown hair flicking back over his shoulders, and startled, familiar, blue eyes met his. “Charles?” Erik asked, blinking.

Charles opened and shut his mouth. “Erik?”

Erik laughed. Somehow having him right there across from him made his earlier fuckup so much smaller. “God, I’m so sorry for my message, I didn’t know that was you in the picture, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Especially on your birthday.”

“Uncomfortable?” Charles blurted. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable at all.”

Erik raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been in a dark room for about half an hour during your birthday party.” He frowned. “Actually that sounds like something I’d do.”

It startled a laugh out of Charles, just a short one, and Erik grinned. It sounded more lovely than-- shit, he shouldn’t be thinking like this, he’d already made things so awkward between them. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I can go if you--”

“No!” Charles cleared his throat. “I mean… you don’t have to. I’m… I just…” he sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I was embarrassed.”

Erik winced. “Yeah, I can’t apologise enough.”

“Not about that,” he said, blue eyes peering up at him, and he looked so damn sad. Erik wanted to hug him. “I just… I should have changed that profile picture. I just… I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Erik asked, frowning. He found himself crossing the room, sitting on an armchair across from Charles.

Charles gave a sad half-smile. “Well… it’s a bit misleading, isn’t it? I don’t look much like that any more. I mean, I’m getting better, I’m off the morphine, I’m… well, I’ve had a lot of help with everything. But I don’t… that’s not me in that picture any more, I suppose.”

Erik cocked his head on one side. “I recognised you.”

“I assume the wheelchair was a bit of a giveaway.” He glared at Erik suddenly. “I’m not ashamed of it. Not anymore - I had some… issues with it to start with, but that’s not why I’m hiding. If people can’t cope with my disability they can fuck off. It’s…” He gestured to his face. “I’m not exactly… that person any more.”

“First of all,” said Erik, “I didn’t know you were in a wheelchair. I didn’t know you’d had an accident, I’m sorry to hear you’ve had a rough time but… I recognised you from that picture. Your eyes are the same, your nose.”

“Oh, God, my nose,” Charles said with a rueful chuckle. He glanced up at Erik, long lashes framing his perfect blue eyes. “Now you must think I’m terribly vain. Hiding in here because I’m worried my lovely new friend won’t have a crush on me any more now he knows I look like a washed up old junkie.”

Erik groaned and dropped his face into his hands. Then he looked up at Charles again, the soft brown curls framing his face and falling down to his chin. He wondered how the scruff on his cheeks would feel against his fingertips, and he took a step over the edge. “I had a crush on you before I knew that was your face,” he said quietly. “The way you talk, the way you argue, your passion - your bloody naivete, honestly, Charles! I’ve been looking forward to meeting you in person so we could talk properly, interrupt each other in person, discuss politics and literature and chess until everyone else around us gets bored and leaves.”

Charles smiled, a wide, sincere thing which curled up his cheeks and crinkled the skin by his eyes. “Well,” he said, the room dark and quiet around them. “And here I was thinking I was the only person who could fall for someone by text.”

#My writing #Crush #cherik #Charles Xavier #Erik Lehnsherr #charles/erik #fluff

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oshyoideum · 5 years

Text

EDIT/NOTE/WHATEVER: it’s actually repost of post from 2018 but it never showed in the searches so why the fuck not try again (literally copy-pasted it so)

Okay, so my first real work here on Tumblr, of course it had to be fanfic xD Upon inspiration from @actuallydeglace and her wonderful fanfic “Marrow” I wrote KimiSaku ‘cause who can stop me!? Welp.

I used one of @theradiointukyshead ‘s AUs.

Enjoy, I hope xD

It’s fucking long (4992 words)… could be longer but still long

AU: i come to get my laundry in the basement at like 3 a.m. and WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU WEARING ALL WHITE TO PRACTICE YOUR VIOLIN IN THAT DARK CORNER??

Sakura was sitting alone in her dorm room munching (quite loudly) on her very tasty and very unhealthy chips while trying to focus on her notes. She was studying the material for the next test for few hours now and… what was the time? Shit, it’s almost three in the morning… I want to sleep… Sakura sniffed quietly after checking the time on her phone.

The biggest test from anatomy was around the corner and the girl’s poor nerves were not helping her to prepare at all. In the past few days she was angry almost all the time, she wasn’t sleeping enough (three or four hours of precious sleep definitely were not doing her good) and due to lack of time her meals contained only of junk food and occasional fruit (bless Ino). On the contrary though she was very well prepared now studying only a few last topics so her misery hopefully won’t go to waste (It definitely won’t go to waste! Sakura said to herself as one more negative thought crept into her mind. She was working so hard, she will definitely not only pass but will get a very good grade as well, there is no other way, is there? No.)

After stuffing another fist of chips into her mouth, Sakura got up from her rather uncomfortable chair (but it had backrest so she wasn’t slouching! She promised herself to find at least one positive with everything she was hating in this tiring time) and did some stretching so she would be able to feel all of her limbs again. She glanced for a second on her small collection of empty cans of energy drinks and three empty as well mugs of coffee. Wow… I’m so lucky Ino went somewhere tonight ‘cause she’d definitely start lecturing me and that’s the last thing I need right now. She quickly started to get rid of the proof of her crime: crushed all cans and put them in the trash can, rest of the chips shoved in the little gap between wall and her bed where she put all of her ‘shape murderers’ as Ino liked to call junk food, she did nothing with the mugs yet but she will later wash them.

Okay, so she almost cleaned the crime scene (aka her desk), that’s good. But she got this feeling that she forgot about something. She looked around the room searching for some sign and after a few minutes of staring at nothing in particular (losing focus again, are we?) she saw at the corner of her eye laundry basket that should be full of her dirty clothes but actually wasn’t. So that was the thing! Few hours ago she went to laundry room to do her laundry and she went back to her room so she wouldn’t waste any more of her precious time needed to study. And she forgot about it. Wow.

She put on one of her baggy hoodies and some convers and sighing loudly took her basket in one hand and keys to the room in the other and dragged herself out of it. Like a responsible girl she is, she locked her dorm (why would she take keys if she wasn’t going to lock the door? Maybe self-defense but she has fists so kind of no). After few seconds of listening to some distant music probably from upstairs she finally started to walk. She felt her muscles ache from all the sitting in the recent times but she couldn’t even go to do some exercises at the gym because of lack of any free time. Eh, what a drag.

When she reached the bottom floor she stopped in front of stairs which led to the basement where her destined point - laundry room - was. Who thought it would be a good idea to put laundry room in the basement!? Students don’t want to go to the basement at three in the morning! (Well, no one who actually does their laundry at normal time of day.) What if there are some monsters or even worse - what if there are some drunk people who will throw up on her fresh clean clothes!? Disaster!

At some point of her internal complaining Sakura thought she heard something from the dark corridor below. But she must have misheard, right? There was literally no reason for anyone beside her to be down there. She knew she was the only one who did laundry in the evening that day and she was one hundred percent sure that none of her fellow students would go down there to get broom or something to clean at night. So she must have misheard. There was no other rational explanation. And she was a little high on the caffeine that was still in her body and overly tired after her passionate date with anatomy textbook.

Yup, misheard.

But, as she started to take steps to get down the mysterious sound occurred once again. There was very little possibility that maybe her ears finally started playing tricks on her after all the excited screams Naruto was producing every day or loud music Ino liked to turn on when she was dressing herself or really anything else.

When the sound didn’t stop this time Sakura started to get nervous. Her heart rate increased and her hands started to get sweaty. After watching so many horror films with her friends her mind was able to create some pretty impressive scenarios of what might have been down there. She probably should just turn around and run to her very safe dorm to her very safe bed. But she was too exhausted to listen to her rational side and she needed those clothes! What would she wear to tomorrow lectures? She put almost everything she had in the washing machine so beside her actual attire consisting of sports shorts, old top and hoodie her only other piece of clothing was little black dress (very short and very backless). So she REALLY needed to get her ass down there, scare whatever there was, collect her things and run for her life! Okay, should work she decided.

As she was taking more steps towards this cursed basement she realized that the sound was actually pretty nice. Was it violin? She listened closely and indeed, the mysterious sound was violin. Very nice violin actually, slow peaceful music was filling the staircase. It was very relaxing theme and Sakura decided she could listen to this beautiful notes all eternity if she have had the chance. It made her loose up a little and she even smiled at the thought of someone playing such masterpiece at three in the basement.

Right, if there was sound there has to be a musician too! That realization made Sakura open her eyes widely and stare into the darkness. What if there was a ghost? She didn’t know how to deal with ghosts!

I need clothes, there is nothing in there, that’s just hallucination Sakura started to repeat it like a mantra in her mind.

Okay, so I’m going down slowly. Nothing to worry about, I’m sure…

I bet there is a ghost!

Shut up! There isn’t a ghost! I’m just very tired!

Yeah, so tired that you just started talking to yourself.

Hmpf…

And you know what that means? Psychosis!

Sakura growled low under her breath and pulled herself together. She just went quickly two steps at a time and jumped from a few which lasted. And then:

“AAAHHH!”

Sakura screamed at the top her lungs upon seeing a ghost. A GHOST! She stumbled backwards and fell on the stairs bruising her hip and elbow and everything! She just wanted to get up and get the hell out of there. In the brief second of courage she looked up and saw someone who looked equally as scared as she was (but this ‘someone’ wasn’t laying on the floor). This person was wearing a white shirt and also white pants and… didn’t have shoes. The only light that was illuminating was from open doors to the laundry room and it was very dim creepily white light.

Between her sharp fast breathes Sakura looked at the pale face of ‘the ghost’ and found herself shocked. She knew this person! White, quite long hair were gathered into well-maintained man bun with a red hair tie. Under person’s eyes were dark a little reddish circles (does no one in this college sleep? Probably.) and these eyes, these beautiful eyes in bottle green color she could not describe enough to give them justice (where is all this poetry she read sometime when she needs it!?).

“Kimimaro!?”

The man didn’t looked so startled after realizing that screaming being was Sakura, small med student who sometimes talked with him about music and a lot of different things. And whom he actually really liked and always enjoyed her company.

He put his violin down and walked over to the girl still lying half on the flat floor half on the stairs and offered her a hand she gladly accepted. He gently pulled her up and gave her her dropped laundry basket and keys.

“Hello, Sakura.” Said Kimimaro with small polite nod.

“What are you even doing here!? And with… with a violin!?” Sakura was still recovering from traumatizing event and was shaking a little while frantically gesticulating with her free hand.

Knowing how to calm her (sometimes she’d came to him really angry and he learned a few little tricks) he took her small hand into his bigger one and started to gently draw small circles with his thumb. With his other hand he took a loose strand of her pink hair and brushed it behind her ear. For a moment he was stroking her cheek with his knuckles and kept doing so until her breathing started to normalize. That was it, his language of choice - touching and feeling and she seemed to like it too.

“So, did you calm a little?”

Sakura closed her eyes for a few second and then opened them with a sigh.

“Yes, thank you.” She looked into his eyes only to see worry and uncertainty. Why was he worried? “What are you doing here hiding in the shadows like that?”

“Well,” He let go of her hand and suddenly she felt very cold in this particular place even though she also felt nice tingle around her fingers and at the back of her hand and on the cheek. It was this kind of feeling that made her a little bit more happy. “Kabuto is studying in our dorm…”

“Did he kick you out!? If he did I will kick his ass!” Sakura interrupted him before he had a chance to end his sentence.

“No, no need to worry” He looked into her eyes with such gentleness and delicacy that she almost could feel her heart breaking but with the happiness. He touched her shoulder and then forehead. Under his soft long fingers she relaxed her furrowed brows. It was strange to her that this man, Kimimaro, was able to calm her down and put at ease better that her lifetime friend. “I just wanted to practice a little and did not want to disturb him.”

“Okay… but why in the basement? Why at night?” she took a quick glimpse of his bare feet “And where are your shoes?”

Suddenly Kimimaro looked kind of sheepish when he avoided Sakura’s eyes and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, I couldn’t sleep and… I’ll show you.” He said while turning his back to the girl and walked towards the case of his violin. He took out a piece of paper and asked her to come closer where there was a little more light.

She took the paper and started reading.

“Dear Mr. Kaguya. We are looking for new talents, blah blah blah, you’re fine work may result in becoming one of the most renowned composers. Ha! Told you so.“ She looked up with the happy grin before continuing. “ Blah blah blah, and we are honored to inform that you have been chosen to play as one of the few young prodigies at our autumn concert at the opera! Oh my god, that’s wonderful!”

Sakura let go of her basket and practically jumped on the completely unsuspecting man. She hugged him tightly around his neck trying not to crease the letter too much. After the first wave of shock Kimimaro reciprocated her hug almost as tight. His embrace was warm like the first sun in the spring after months of cold or like a cup of hot chocolate during said cold months of winter. He smelled like wood of which his violin has been made of and soap but what soap exactly she couldn’t tell.

After a while she backed out a little and put her free hand on his cheek and moved it slowly to the side of his neck and finally shoulder.

“I’m genuinely so proud of you. Even though I’m not in a position to be but you just… worked so hard and you love it and put so much of yourself in it… I’m really happy for you.”

“Thank you.” He said with little content smile and released her from his embrace. “It… means a lot actually.” (Did he blushed a little or shadows and light were playing with her? She couldn’t tell.)

“No problem. That’s what friends are for.” She flashed him her happy grin and collected her things from the floor. “So that’s why you couldn’t sleep. You must be very excited.”

“Pretty much, yes.”

“Wow, this is really awesome. I wish you the best, you know.” She stated with a soft smile and smirked. “But you still haven’t told me why you’re not wearing shoes and why exactly are you practicing in the basement.”

She stared deeply straight into his eyes. Now he was definitely blushing and his embarrassment was so adorable it put Sakura into even better mood. (How was it possible when half an hour ago she was miserable? Maybe he was some kind of mystical creature who was bringing happiness, who knows.)

She pointed on her basket. “You can tell me while I take my clothes, okay?”

And not really waiting for him she entered quite big place with a lot of washing machines. (Good washing machines with dryers.) She placed basket on one on them and opened two machines she used and started taking her clothes out of one. Kimimaro placed his violin down next to Sakura’s container and stood next to her to help her. He was standing really close to her, she could feel heat of his body on her bare legs.

“So…?” She nudged hum slightly.

“I was playing here because this corridor has decent acoustics.”

“Okay, so this is understandable even though I’m pretty sure there are some better places with good acoustics than basement.” She gave him a side look. “But nevermind… Shoes. Why you don’t wear shoes?

“Ach…” He scratched his head while giving her a few shirts. “They are here” he pointed next to the door “but I took them off.”

“I can see that. I’m not stupid, you know.”

“I would never suggest such a thing”

“I know… ugh, I’m just do tireeed.” She whined stuffing the last piece of clothing to her definitely too small basket. (How did she bring here all this in this stupid thing?). “I’ll drop the shoes topic, maybe you just felt like being barefoot, I don’t know.”

“Maybe.” He let out a small chuckle. What a pretty sound she decided. She wanted to take her full basket but was stopped by pale warm palm on her hand.

“Please, let me help.” She considered the offer for a second. She definitely could carry it back to her room but who was she to deny such a nice offer. She nodded only and waited until he put on his damned shoes and took the basket. She took her keys and his violin and they both exited laundry place. His shoulder brushed lightly against her as they were going up the stairs.

“So… you going back to Kabuto? ‘Cause you know, you can sleep with me.”

She processed words that came out of her mouth only when she saw surprised expression on Kimimaro’s face.

“Oh fuck! That’s not what I meant!” Even though I can’t deny I would want to… I’D TAP THAT! “Sleep with me as in with me in my dorm! Ino went somewhere and she probably won’t come back until a lot later so there is one bed empty.”

“Oh” My god, was he disappointed!? “It would be nice actually, Kabuto can be a little grumpybefore exams.” The understatement of the year.

“Tell no more. I was studying with him twice and please no more! They say ‘three times a charm’ but not in this case, there won’t be a third time. No way ever! Nu-uh!”

Oh, he chuckled again. Sakura could swear this was one of the best sounds she ever heard in her life and she heard a lot. She smiled at him and they walked to her room in pleasant silence disturbed only by distant music.

Once inside the dorm Kimimaro set the basket on the floor while Sakura gently put his violin on a windowsill. She kicked her shoes of and made a gesture with her arm presenting the whole, not so big, place.

“Welcome to my little kingdom where nerves get shattered.” She bowed theatrically “Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks.” He said smiling. He walked over to her desk and looked and her textbook and dirty mugs. “I see you’ve been studying as well. That is why you were doing laundry so late?”

“Yeah, big test soon. Anatomy, dreadful. I normally like it but in the last week I slept only twenty hours out of hundred sixty eight that are in the whole week. I know, I counted.”

“It is not good for your health.” Oh, he was worried again. It was nice.

“Yup. But what can I do? Gotta be a doctor so gotta study hard.” She said with a fake chirpiness in her voice as her arms slumped. Kimimaro put his hand reassuringly on Sakura’s back and rubbed for a while. He didn’t know what to say but he knew that she’d understand his little gesture.

Sakura focused on warm spot on her back when his hand rested. She started to feel a little tingle in her insides which was… pleasant to her surprise. She wasn’t surprised of her obvious attraction but rather of feeling of connection if she could name it like that.

She straightened her back and moved a little away from the man. She took off her hoodie and threw it on the chair.

“I’m gonna take a shower. You can go sleep or read some book… or wait if you want to shower too. I’ll be back in a while.”

She went to the bathroom and took her clothes off. She looked at her reflection in the mirror while having an internal battle with her shame, morals and want.

Do it.

It’s stupid. Stupid! I can’t.

Do. It. Make

Stop! Don’t you dare end this sentence.

Make your dreams come true…

But I’m not sure if it’s appropriate…

It isn’t. Just. Fucking. DO. IT!

ALL RIGHT! Stop talking!

I’m you so you’re the one talking.

“Smartass.”

She took a towel, wrapped herself in it and without much thought went out.

Kimimaro sat on her bed with some book. Upon hearing the door open he looked up to see practically naked girl looking at him with fire in her eyes. It was unexpected even though he wanted her to look at him like that for some time now. He couldn’t help himself not to eye her toned legs a little but he quickly looked back at her face.

Sakura was overall very confident but suddenly she felt uncertain. “Well…” Oh, to hell with that. “Would you maybe like to take a shower together? You know… to… to save the water!” To save the water!? It’s the worst excuse you could come up with. Yeah? Then tell me a better one! …fair enough.

Okay, so this definitely wasn’t one of her proudest moments. She wasn’t as good in seducing as Ino! (If it even can count as seducing.) But she stood strong trying to look confident and at least a little sultry.

Kimimaro stared at her blankly for a few seconds processing the situation. He knew Sakura could be straightforward but he’d never thought such a bold move was in her repertoire. So he just smirked (Sakura was sure that if her self-control would have been any less her knees would just give up by now upon seeing this beautiful sexy face with such an expression. Hot damn.) and played along.

“Since saving the Earth is the most important I do not see why not to take up on your offer.”

Sakura backed down to the bathroom and threw at him the same towel she was wrapped in. She went into the shower and turned the water on. Warm, transparent liquid started to flow with a pleasant hum. Pink hair stuck to her bare shoulders, neck and high on her back. She moved them away from her face.

Short after she saw her shower curtain move and felt the presence of another body behind her. He stood back to back with her. She turned around and moved her left hand to touch his shoulder. She felt his slight shiver under fingertips. Her hand moved a little down to his shoulder blade and under his arm to rest where his heart should be. She hugged him from the back feeling his rapid heartbeat. Did it beat so fast for her? She certainly hoped so because her heart beat so fast for him too.

He moved her hands away to turn and face her. He looked into her glistening green eyes, so similar to his but so different. Full of emotion, of passion and happiness and desire. He leaned down a little and at the same time she stood on her tiptoes resting her hands on his shoulders for better balance. Their noses were now touching, They could feel each other’s breathes.

She was the first to break the eye contact between them. She looked for a brief second on his lips and covered the little distance to finally touch them. She kissed him gently first, it felt almost like touch of a feather or butterfly’s wing. His lips were very soft and oh so perfect. Like made just for her.

When she broke it, he pushed her lightly so she’d lean against tiles.

“Kimimaro…” she let out with a satisfied sigh when he kissed her again. But this kiss wasn’t gentle and careful. It was very strong, full of passion and hunger. It was dangerous like fire during drought and sweet as fairy floss.

He gripped her thighs and lifted her up. She put her legs around his waist. They were so close that even a sheet of paper wouldn’t fit between them.

Between their heated kisses she was able to blindly find the tap and turn the water off. Then she hooked her arms around his neck with her hands in his white hair.

He secured her with one hand on her bottom and kept caressing her back with the other. He walked out of the shower and into the room.

Without tripping on anything he walked to her bed. As they fell on the mattress he secured himself with one hand to not collapse on her.

He gazed upon female body beneath him. He took in all of her smooth skin with scars here and there. All of her little beauty mark. He took in all of her.

“I thought you were tired.” He said with quirked eyebrow.

She knew why he said that. He wanted to give her exit if she wasn’t ready. Even though she should be the one to do so as she was the one who lured him.

“I’m not anymore.” She propped slightly on her elbows. “Do you want to…?

Kimimaro leaned forward until his lips reached her ear close enough to touch and whispered:

“Why would I not?”

He then licked the spot on her neck where the pulse was and blew on it. It resulted in shiver down her spine.

He began moving down slowly, leaving feather like kisses on her neck, collarbone, chest. When he came to her breast, he left a few more around her nipples. He drew the tip of his around one of the nips and blew. Her breather hitched in her throat due to that sensation. He did the same with the other one. He sucked and bit on skin next to it. She arched her back with soft moan.

He moved to her stomach where some of the scars where and he kisses every single one of them looking not to miss any.

When he got to the legs he started with ankles and kept going higher and higher. He was trailing the path with his fingers on which his lips appeared after.

All of this was like worshipping. He chose his own Goddess and he worshipped her body like he worshipped her mind any other day.

When he came to her thighs she pulled him back to her lips and mumbled between her heavy breaths: “Stop teasing…”

She reached out to her nightstand, opened the drawer and took out a small plastic package. Then she sat on her knees and gently pushed Kimimaro so he would sit down leaning against the wall. She put the package between her lips and moved closer to him on all fours. She slowly moved up sitting between his legs.

“You look so… tasty I could devour you.” She whispered into his ear.

His breath quickened as his hand roamed across her body.

She moved down to be on eye level with his hard standing member. He twitched in reaction to her gentle touch. When the shaft from the bottom to the tip one of Kimimaro’s hand found its place in her hair and a few not-so-silent groans left his throat. She kissed the tip licking off the precum and moved back only to be met with disappointed sound from the man.

She chuckled and opened the little package. She took condom out and looking straight into her lover’s eyes she ducked down again and slowly put in on his member licking not yet wrapped parts.

Without much of a warning she positioned herself above him and quickly lowered herself on him so he was all inside. It resulted in loud moan from her at the feeling of complete fullness and stretching and groan from him at the feeling of her tightness.

She rested her head in the crook of his neck breathing heavily just like him. He put his strong arms around her hugging her tightly.

After a while she slowly started to move up and down, up and down. Their breather hitched. Loud moans and groans filled the whole of the room. They were moaning into each other’s ears while moving in a perfect sync.

They were one now. One body and one soul. This was their moment.

Sakura started to move faster. Her thighs were starting to ache but she didn’t think about it. She was focused only on her and his release. Her mind was clouded full only of the sounds of them making love.

He put one of his hands lower on Sakura’s ass to keep her steady. He kept whispering to her ear how beautiful she was.

She kissed him passionately feeling orgasm building in her stomach. They were both moving frantically until Sakura moaned and screamed loudly into his lips.

“Ahh, Kimi… Kimimaro!” Her whole body was shaking when he helped her to ride out her orgasm. Not long after he himself felt his sweet release grunting.

They both panted heavily and he pressed his forehead to hers. They looked each other in the eyes and listened to their quickened heartbeats in the silence.

She got off him and laid down waiting for him to come back. He laid down next to her and took one of her hands in his and trailed little patterns on her skin.

Sakura turned to lay on her belly putting her crossed arm on his chest and resting her chin on them. She was half laying on him but he didn’t seem to mind.

“So…” she started not really knowing what to say.

“Would you like to go on a date with me?”

She laughed at the odd, considering the situation, question.

“We messed up the order, didn’t we?”

“I suppose we did.”

“I’d love to go on a date with you.” She responded with a grin.

“Good.” God, his smile will be the death of her.

Not so later on they both fell asleep.

Ino opened the door to her dorm without knocking.

“Sakura! You won’t believe what…” The blonde girl stopped shocked.

Well, Sakura was where she ought to be but she was naked and with this boy she kept talking on for some time.

Well, well, well… what have we here. Ino took out her phone and with one of her most sinister grins snapped a few (around twenty) pictures of sleeping couple. So the material for blackmailing has been collected, now she had to make sure the lovebirds would have peace.

She took Sakura’s phone from her nightstand and turned off all of the alarms. Haruno will be so mad but one lecture won’t make her any less smart, will it?

Ino took one last glance on her best friend’s bed, took some clothes to change and as silently as she could went out of the room.

Okay.

That was it. My first ever facfic written in English and my first ever smut (I’m like 99% sure if this was more ‘porn like’ smut I would do better).

I think it’s decent xD

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aili · 5 years

Text

Valentine’s Day Music Newlsetter 2019!

Welcome to the 13th Music Newsletter! Short intro for the newbies - I love music. I love sharing music with other people. In college I started a "music newsletter" email with some playlists (aka mixtapes) I've made and some song/band recommendations. Why Valentine's Day? Because I think this day should be about love in many ways - including love for music!

That brings us to today. The first Valentine's Day mixtape I put together was actually a physical mix CD that I mailed to my home friends while I was away at college. That was in 2008 (11 years ago!). A lot has changed since then, but my love of music has not. While I feel sometimes too busy or too old or too out of touch to know what I'm even talking about, I hope you'll get some enjoyment out of this - as much as I've been enjoying listening to these songs and picking them for you!

*Click here to download Valentine's Day 2019 mixtape!

Click here to play Valentine's Day 2019 on Spotify!

*Note that the file downloads as a zip file, double clicking on it to open it up should give you the individual songs. Then move the songs to iTunes into a playlist!

1.) "Happy Unhappy" - The Beths New Zealand indie rockers The Beths debut album, Future Me Hates Me, is full of catchy, energetic sad-twinged songs. This song feels like it could have come out back in the 00s when we had to find new music by reading blogs and actually downloading MP3s - it feels closer to the Garden State soundtrack era of indie than the recent moody electronic vibe. It's a lot of fun! Sounds like Courtney Barnett by way of The Wombats, with a splash of Los Campesinos.

2.) “City Looks Pretty” - Courtney Barnett Courtney’s 2018 album “Tell Me How You Really Feel” is only her second studio album, but somehow it feels like she’s been around forever. The album features a “fuller” sound and more production, which may appear dulled next to 2015’s “Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit.” However, I feel excited by Courtney exploring a more mature sound and think it accurately reflects the albums depressive theme. “Sometimes I get mad / it’s not all that bad” is sung with a definite apathy compared to her shout-singing past record. As the bridge settles in, Courtney captures the depression symptom of lack of interest in things you used to enjoy. The city looks pretty when you’ve been stuck inside isolated for two weeks. 3.) “Screwed” - Janelle Monáe feat. Zoë Kravitz Janelle’s 2018 album “Dirty Computer” is an anthology of songs (and truly, poetry) that tell of reckoning with being a queer woman of color in an oppressive, violent society. It’s an incredibly personal album with her fans in mind - “I want young girls, young boys, nonbinary, gay, straight, queer people who are having a hard time dealing with their sexuality, dealing with feeling ostracized or bullied for just being their unique selves, to know that I see you. This album is for you. Be proud.” (Rolling Stone, 2018). My favorite part of this song is “See, everything is sex / except sex / which is power / you know power is just sex / now ask yourself who’s screwing you.”

4.) "BAGDAD - Cap.7: Liturgia" - Rosalía 25-year-old Rosalía Vila Tobella from Catalonia has an excellent 2018 album El Mal Querer. The album combines traditional flamenco with modern R&B. The album is a story of love and heartbreak over the course of 11 chapters/songs. This particular one might sound familiar due to the sampling of Justin Timberlake's "Cry Me A River."

5.) "Gun" - St. Lucia St. Lucia's first release off of their 2018 album Hyperion caught my attention with its connection to a more traditional rock sound and the heavy-hitting, one-word title. The production and sound almost reminds me of Oasis or U2. Turns out that the album is indeed produced by someone who worked on records with PJ Harvey, Depeche Mode, and U2. In interviews, Jean-Philip Grobler talks about how this song is generally about both gun control and power. "You said you wanted to feel a gun in your hands" in Verse 1 transforms to "You said you wanted to feel the blood in your hands" in Verse 2, highlighting the fact that guns are designed to kill.

6.) “Apathy” - Frankie Cosmos With a catchy bass line, gorgeous lyrics, and endearing vocals, this song and entire album are not to be missed. As you may notice on this year’s playlist, this year I was super into what I would describe as punk-influenced, low-fi indie female vocalists. Pretentious enough for you? Haha. I just mean that there are a ton of young women blowing up in the indie music scene with a huge crossover in sound. As demonstrated in “Apathy,” many of these songs are short, lack a traditional pop music format, use low-fi production, and have a storytelling aspect of almost speak-singing. These elements are all found in traditional punk music, so it’s interesting and exciting to see these artists shaking things up and challenging the punk genre. Frankie Cosmos has a long history of creating music, under various projects using Bandcamp as a teenager. Her 2018 album “Vessel” is nothing short of delightful and another one of my favorites of the year. 7.) “Your Dog” - Soccer Mommy Soccer Mommy is Sophie Allison, singer-songwriter based out of Nashville. She opened for Paramore on their recent tour and she has launched into the indie music scene with a lot of attention in the past couple years. I love how her voice clearly carries so much anger as she sings about an emotionally abusive relationship. Her lyrics describe the agony of small, sweet gestures pushing her back to her ex, despite her wanting desperately to end it. Using the metaphor of being a loyal, sub-servient dog, she describes the way her SO treats her like she’s his property. Because the song lacks a traditional “pop” format (verse 1 / chorus / verse 2 / chorus / bridge / chorus), there is a sense of the story ending unresolved. Fortunately, she has an excellent album (one of my favorites) from 2018 called “Clean” where you can learn more of her story. 8.) “Pristine” by Snail Mail A stunning debut from 19-year-old Lindsey Jordan, “Lush” is a 2018 release not to miss. “Pristine” perfectly encapsulates teenage life and love - “it just feels like the same party every weekend. Doesn’t it?” There is such a sense of genuine hormonal angst that she is almost joyfully celebrating. Her album reads more like a diary - and how lucky she is to have these future memories and be able to approach them with such wisdom.

9.) "Uncomfortably Numb" - American Football feat. Hayley Williams Paying homage to Pink Floyd, legendary emo band American Football joins with Paramore's lead singer Hayley Williams for a devastating track about losing emotional sensation. "I blame my father in my youth / Now as a father, I blame the booze." I couldn't find too much information on the exact inspiration behind the track, but it's the second track released off their upcoming album out March 22nd. Hayley is usually front and center as a singer, and it's interested to hear her take more of a backing role, as well as explore a bit of a lower vocal range than she usually does.

10.) “Geyser” - Mitski Mitski absolutely killed it last year with “Be The Cowboy,” which was consistently rated not only in the top 5 best albums, not only top 3, but making MULTIPLE end of year lists as the number one album of 2018. It’s easy to see why, given the incredible breadth of music she wrote for her album. I see Mitski's influence reflected in the rise of fame in other punk-inspired female vocalists in the indie scene, building off her ability to capture the attention of a wide audience. Which is also very interesting because she incorporated elements of many other genres on this album (spot any disco on “Nobody”?) While it was difficult to pick one song for my playlist, “Geyser” stands out to me as not only an excellent album opener, but a fascinating look into Mitski’s own relationship with the art she creates. In an interview, she explains that this song is about her feeling like she has to create music because she would never be satisfied in life without it, but feeling sometimes stifled, stuck, and resentful when she puts music above basic needs such as her health and self-care. She needs her art to survive but it simultaneously kills her.

11.) “Me & My Dog” - boygenius It’s impossible to pick just one song of this album. Boygenius is the supergroup of Phoebe Bridgers, Lucy Dacus, and Julien Baker - who each could also have one of their incredible solo songs on my playlist. Partially because they enjoyed each other’s creative energies and partially as a response to constantly being compared to each other as “women in indie,” the trio came together to create an EP of emo-influenced, folk-inspired gorgeous tracks about grief, loneliness, identity, and heartbreak. This particular song features Phoebe Bridgers in the verses and is a beautiful representation of the embarrassing and frustrating feeling of being in love with an ex. Please check out the individual work of these artists too!

12.) "bless ur heart" - serpentwithfeet Serpentwithfeet, aka Josiah Wise, has a gorgeous, intimate voice throughout his 2018 debut album, soil. This song starts off with a question of how his art will be received by the world. The rest of the song is a tender message of gratitude to his first love. It seems like Josiah questioned the choice to speak about his experiences with his ex in such a public fashion - with complexities of privacy, being open about sexuality, and possible painful memories on the table. Josiah's writing is very much like poetry, and his raw, unfiltered, un-autotuned vocals match the beauty of his words.

13.) "Bury A Friend" - Billie Eilish 17-year-old Billie Eilish is set to release her debut album, When We Sleep, Where Do We Go? next month. This song matches her goth aesthetic with a creepy story from the perspective of the monster under the bed. We learn that the monster is part of Billie herself, who is struggling with her own demons. 14.) "Loading Zones" - Kurt Vile A gorgeous guitar track, Kurt Vile paints a picture of his hometown Philadelphia and feeling on top of the world exploring his city's streets. He included a hilarious marketing strategy of sending fake parking tickets to fans in the mail to promote the song. Kurt Vile talks about the metaphor of "I park for free," which is how he sometimes lives his life - breaking the dumb rules because it's his life, his streets, his town. 15.) "Dylan Thomas" - Better Oblivion Community Center Is it possible to already be nostalgic for the late 2000's? Conor Oberst and Phoebe Bridgers released this surprise collaboration last month and this is the standout track for me. Conor Oberst's incredibly recognizable voice is hard to match in terms of strength, timbre, and uniqueness. While Bridgers is young enough to be from a different generation than him (she also grew up listening to Oberst's music), he saw something in her that resonated with him. I love how they sing in unison on this track (and much of the album) and think their voices sound really good together.

16.) "Butterflies" - Kacey Musgraves Kacey Musgraves is bringing a breath of fresh air to country. After self-releasing three albums, she tried her hand at reality TV through Nashville Star over a decade ago. Golden Hour is her fourth album using a record label, and she just won Album of the Year at the Grammys! Her voice is beautiful and has an earnest, authentic approach in joining elements of country pop.

17.) “Prior Things” - Hop Along “Bark Your Head Off, Dog” is Hop Along’s third album, released in 2018. Singer/songwriter Frances Quinlan has the ability to transform the themes of her songs. Layered with a multitude of different sounds and instruments, it could easily sound scattered and busy, but instead feels like we are huddled around a campfire with an enthusiastic, stream-of-consciousnesses storyteller. “Prior Thing” is the last song on the album and crosses time, space, and memories with the start of a hallucinogenic drug trip. She has the ability to take a phrase and transform the expected - pausing or elongating notes at unexpected places. This method keeps you invested in figuring out what the song is really about or what the conclusion is. 18.) "Kids" - Pup Emo/pop punkers Pup have a new album Morbid Stuff coming out on April 5th. Their songs are made for live shows - shouting/singing alternates, sing-a-long catchy lyrics reminiscent of the Hold Steady, and unison whole-band lines. Pup frontman Stefan Babcock said this song is about finding someone who agrees with your view of the world being a fucked up place, and enjoying small moments of solace in spending time with them.

SPOTIFY

Don't forget to subscribe to my playlists on Spotify! Here is the link to listen to this year's mixtape on Spotify.

I try to add new songs at least once a week to this playlist: What I'm currently lovin' (updated freq)

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I hope you guys enjoy the new music and feel free to send me recommendations of anything you like!<3 aili

Previous Mixtapes:

Autumn Love mix | Autumn Love Spotify

Copenhagen mix | Copenhagen Spotify

Valentine's Day downbeat 2010

Valentine's Day upbeat 2010

Valentine's Day 2011

Philadelphia mix | Philadephia Spotify

New Crime mix | New Crime Spotify

The City mix | The City Spotify

Drive mix | Drive Spotify

Valentine's Day 2012 | VDay 2012 Spotify

King's Myth mix | King's Myth Spotify

Hold On mix | Hold On Spotify

Valentine's Day 2013 | Vday 2013 Spotify

Valentine's Day 2014 | Vday 2014 Spotify

Valentine's Day 2015 | Vday 2015 Spotify

Valentine's Day 2016 | Vday 2016 Spotify

Valentine's Day 2017| Vday 2017 Spotify

Valentine's Day 2018 | Vday 2018 Spotify

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animentality · 6 years

Text

Its still kind of shocking to me

But when I made this dumb blog, it was to look at some artsy stuff my friend Maddie was posting and just to have another app on my phone.

And it just spiraled into...whatever the hell this mess is.

And I just recently hit 20,000 followers and it's like...

Why.

I have no idea, still, why you're here.

I made some anime posts but now I don't do that, or at least, very rarely and on special occasions like snk getting a new season.

Don't know why you're still here, don't know why newcomers are here.

I mean seriously, I gained followers like crazy my first year on Tumblr.

I remember a girl named Stephanie had a Tumblr for a year at that point and i told her I had 200 followers, and I guess I must've sounded proud or something because she said, "that's all? I have 500."

Like, that was a bitch thing to say Stephanie.

I got her back before I graduated though, I said, "how many followers do you have on Tumblr now?"

And she was like, oh a thousand, I'm pretty good at blogging.

So I just whapped, I was like:

"oh, that's all? I just hit 18k."

I was feeling bitchy and that was just before I deleted my Facebook so I had no compulsions about it.

Honestly I really just wonder because I have a vague idea.

I know that a lot of you originally came, the first ten thousand of you, because I wrote a lot of gushing rants about ships or fandoms.

I was a self sustaining fandom blog that didn't rely on one fandom.

I also had the help of an old friend I don't see around anymore, shingekinokyojinheaven.

We had cringy pun battles and interacted often.

I think he got me a lot of followers, although maybe I shouldn't say that because you have to have a personality and ability to interact with someone on this site in order to get yourself an audience with the "Tumblr popular."

I also changed my url from a nobody name to captainarlert.

And snk blogs were so in Vogue in 2013, lmao.

I was also in the free! fandom, also fairly popular.

I rode that high for a while, contributing to memes and writing warm and fuzzy stuff that made people feel validated in their shitty anime watching hobbies. I wrote meta. I pandered to ships and started discourse from time to time, built a Brand on being brusque but funny. I guess that helped to distinguish myself from other anime related blogs.

Which is pretty crazy when you consider the fact that by just writing posts and taking screenshots and reblogging stuff, I hit 20,000 followers.

Like.

Think about it.

Other popular bloggers post beautiful art. They write fanfiction. They write poetry. They post memes. Blogs like thebootydiaries write in almost Shakespearean verse, slimetony seems to have the perfect mode of Tumblr speak set to keyboard.

Then there's weavemama, who posts wokeness.

And a myriad of popular blogs, who post specific content.

Who have a specific aesthetic that's never changed.

These people make an effort to Tumblr.

And they of course have way more followers than me, but I look at them and wonder what the hell I did to deserve any of mine.

But anyway. Back to the story...

I was responsible for standing myself apart from the rest I guess, because snk was popular but couldn't last forever.

Plus I realized I didn't really want to just be an snk fan blog.

I switched urls to captain of anime, then anime admiral, but they were both kind of lame.

So I switched to mental insanime for a bit.

And then I thought of a new one, animentality.

Short and sweet.

Sounds like someone who'd be Tumblr famous, doesn't it?

Stuck with that.

Was in the Tokyo ghoul fandom and some other anime.

Oh right, knb.

Haikyuu. Yowamushi pedal. I think free! came back somewhere in between.

I guess I was really known for free!, Snk, and a smattering of other anime.

But I dunno, somewhere in there I really hope that other people were staying not for anime content but for my personality, which was increasingly growing more unstable as I finished off high school.

I remember senior year I was pretty much done with anime.

And I kept thinking my blog has to stabilize at one point I can't keep getting followers.

Like I have no more anime content, I have no more metas to make you feel warm at night.

All I have now is my daily life and observations about the things in it. You can't sustain a blog like that, not if you're not constantly funny and fluent in meme speak like...I dunno, what's their name? Perdu?

There's a guy I'm forgetting, something with a b...well whatever.

You know, the Tumblr Giants who define this space as #whacky and #relatable and #lol I'll eat ur whole humor-oriented. The type of people who circulate poor grammar based on so random jokes and mock others through parody and would absolutely make a joke out of this post if they ever saw it, because in the end of the day they're not here to think or make a discussion with anyone, or work through the processes of life, they're here to entertain. And maybe originally they were here just to chill and occasionally reblog some cool stuff but they have an internet personality to uphold now.

And I think about that sometimes.

Because that really sucks.

And I'm glad I grew out of my internet personality phase, I'm a lot happier.

Being irritated and bitter was my personality for a while, and it wasn't just the internet personality of animentality, that was just me.

Now I'm bitter and irritated but it's whenever it suits me.

And it's more like despair, so it's a lot easier to breathe.

Well I hope you enjoyed my pointless essay.

Let me conclude by saying that...you're probably here because I made some half assed rant in your fandom tag about a movie or a show or a bill wurtz video or just a relatable life post like the college psa or a random text post about media discourse.

And thanks for the follow, I like/tolerate every one of you.

But you know, I have a story about why I'm even here, with the blog and all the people who just shrugged and decided to keep following me after the content went haywire.

And it's that people apparently don't mind inconsistency if it's provided by someone they inexplicably find appealing.

And it'll work wonders for your confusion some days, and not at all on other days.

So I'm glad for the experience, and the relationship between myself and this absolute shit tier garbage smelling blog.

But damn.

Shouldn't you be following a Naruto fan art blog or something

Or reblogging a perfectly formatted, cut and dried post written by people with one-word names?

It seems odd that you're here.

And you let me infiltrate your dash with dumbass shit like this post.

Seems very odd.

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aimeesuzara · 5 years

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Questions from Maiana Minahal’s Students in English 272, “Filipino Women Writers”...My Responses

Dear students and readers,

I’m honored that you’ve read my work and are interested in these facets of my life and craft as an artist. I love the challenge of being given questions to write about. So, here goes!

1. What is the best thing that writing, performing, creating, etc. provides you? It seems you have many talents, how do each contribute to the person that you are? What do you love about each?

I’ve combined a couple of similar questions here. First, thanks to whomever has said that I have many talents; I’m flattered. I do believe I was blessed with a variety of areas of interest and natural “talent” that I got to explore and develop in different phases of my life. I even felt split about whether to respond to the questions in writing and using my voice and image (because I love storytelling and the voice).

First, what do I love about writing? And perhaps writing, as opposed to performing or creating other kinds of multidisciplinary art (plays, collaborations with dance, music, etc)?

Writing is most private; it’s also a place for confession because in many ways, it’s hidden, is behind a mask. Writing can be on one hand too analytical, but when it’s the most powerful it can also be magic-making, enabling a metaphor to be developed and breathe, an image to vibrate and have scent and color; a scene and characters to come alive with dialogue, backstory, and motivation. It’s a place of invention, slower invention that has no immediate impact except itself on the page - as opposed to live performance which is more of an improvisation and collaboration together with an audience.

Performance, then, is that other thing; I believe performance happens on the page, in that invention, as well, but if we’re talking about performing on the stage or at a microphone, it’s a collaboration among many elements: space (architecture, weather), time, other people / audience, circumstance. It’s also very natural, an ancient throwback to the griots and oral historians and singers and spiritual leaders making incantations...it predates writing. The body is a vessel with so many faculties, and this is the most exciting set of possibilities. Should this line or this word be whispered? Yelled? Projected on the body? Who is my audience when I perform? Are you my audience? Is my audience in the past, present or the future? Am I in the past, present or future? What am I able to bring to life right now, and even co-create with you a new circumstance within the present moment? In theater and in poetry, even if it’s the same exact play or the same poem, each rendering is unique. Did someone laugh at a different part? Did someone cry? Am I feeling the spirit of my grandmother that day? Or my future child? Also, the voice is vibrational. There’s a way in which, when we perform, we are contacting others through the voice, through the heat of our bodies; we share a space and time that never occurs again.

Creating multidisciplinary work - I’ll differentiate as projects that are collaborative, that may involve production elements such as video-poems, dance theater, or collaboration with musicians and filmmakers: this takes the Performance and the Writing to another level. Now, let’s add other people who are experts in their own fields: choreographers, dancers, composers, emcees, filmmakers. I have had the opportunity to work with a variety of these, in making projects such as a “Tiny Fires” poem collaboration (click for excerpt) with San Francisco State University’s Dance Theater, in which my poem was translated into choreography and the dancers learned all of the lines; a recent collaboration with Alayo Dance Theater called “Manos de Mujeres” in which I researched, interviewed and wrote about the lives of Cuban Women and the dance company danced and choreographed to my words; a recent project called “Water and Walls” (click to watch) in which we all wrote verses to music about a shared theme and a filmmaker worked with us to produce a video. These are all exciting ways for the writing to live and breathe and thrive in different ways, through different mediums. When it comes to plays, I do not even perform in the work, but get to see talented actors bring the stories to life, with directors at the helm and production crew helping execute a vision. It’s like giving birth...and seeing someone grow up beyond you, doing things you could not do...

2. What are some influences on your poetry/work? (I reworded this one somewhat; I hope it is still fine!)

I think I’ve answered some of this in the above, in a way. I am influenced by many art forms, and can’t see it any other way. I’ve never sat well with only poetry or only words, which can be limiting, and often, as referenced earlier, can become too cerebral. Words are meant to be released, like songs are meant to be sung. I am influenced by my early exposure to playing piano and dancing ballet, and later playing percussion and dancing West African and Afro-Cuban and Salsa and a slight bit of Filipino movement. I am influenced by the work I love to watch - other theater-makers, poets, dancers. Music influences me deeply, and often I hear poems come to me like strains of music, with melodies and rhythms. The natural world influences me. And history. As you have seen in my book, I can get nearly obsessed with history. The way it was written, the way it omits, the glimpses it gives us into the minds of people. Who is heard and who is not; who is rendered silent in the writing; who needs to be heard, if even in imagination. History excites me and leads me to get possessed. Lastly, change-makers and activists, because I came out of that. I first wrote most fiercely and performed my first spoken word poems because I wanted to tell the story of a little girl, Crizel Valencia, who died at age 6 of leukemia after growing up on a toxic wasteland left by the United States military. I lived in her community and in her home and we drew together. When she died, after making dozens of drawings of herself envisioning her community and her own survival, I felt possessed to write, and speak. So, spirits influence me too.

3. About the book, SOUVENIR: What was the inspiration behind the layout and style of your poems? For example, the use of different fonts and inclusion of outside texts like in your poem "Manifest Destiny 1980." I really liked how you wrote and organized your book by using exhibits (like in the museum, there's a story for each object or subject) I find it very creative. What gave you this idea or how did you think of it?

Each poem definitely has its own inspiration, but I can focus on the one you mentioned, first. In “Manifest Destiny 1980″ I was basically writing parallel realities - one in 1980 (my own personal story of migration across the country) and the one in 1803 of the Lewis and Clark Expedition - both which moved from East to West. In mapping out my own family’s road trip from New Jersey to the small Tri-Cities (Pasco, Kennewick, Richland) towns of the Pacific Northwest, where I remembered growing up with stories about Lewis and Clark and Sacajawea, I found that we followed similar route as Lewis and Clark. But, while our trip and our experience was about immigrants and their daughter adjusting and assimilating to White America, Lewis and Clark went to study and exploit the knowledge and resources, and the environment, of Native people. We were subjected to being analyzed and studied and ostracized; they were, as well, but in the end were in the position of power linked to the destruction and removal of local people. The parallel in the layout was meant to enable the two readings (top to bottom) and also one interrupting the other.

As for the exhibits: as you probably know, the 1904 St. Louis World’s Fair (Louisiana Purchase Exposition) celebrated the 100-year anniversary of the Louisiana Purchase, which followed the Lewis and Clark Expedition. In the 1904 Fair, Filipinos were displayed in living exhibits, forced to re-enact rituals (at far too many intervals, unnaturally, for show and even competition), eat, sit, and interact in the public eye, as the living conquests of the US Imperialists. I realized that so much of our lives was and is performance as well - my parents needing to demonstrate their ability to work and function within the American context; my striving to fit in, disappear, or perform as the rare Filipino girl in often non-diverse environments. Without being too literal, I was interested in how we can see our lives on display, and what is lost or gained in that performance. And objects - what are the objects that are collected as treasures of war - including our own bodies?

4. In the poem, "My Mother's Watch,” did that situation really happen to you? If you do go back to the motherland regularly, does the profiling still happen to you today?

Yes; that poem is actually pretty true to life. I wouldn’t have called it “profiling” in that I think that term carries meanings of power within a racist context such as the United States. In the Philippines, it was more of curiosity, more of realizing that you could never really “go back” in a way that is simply nostalgic or “authentic” -- that once the departure from the homeland, and the living within the United States context occurs, we may appear similar in skin and features, we may be 100% the same as our relatives in some ways, but we are not because we have lost our native tongues, or cultural norms, or gestures. And also - that I felt so much bigger and taller than other Filipinos speaks to the fact that many of our own relatives or people just like us back “home” had access to fewer resources and nutrition, whereas we were able to grow up on milk and in my case, packaged and microwaved foods. Even in our bodies, we are altered forever. There was an article/ interview about this poem here that may be of interest: http://www.lanternreview.com/blog/2011/05/31/process-profile-aimee-suzara-discusses-my-mothers-watch/

5. What was the hardest part of the book to write?

The whole thing was hard to write, but it was actually harder to write the “colonizer”/white man/government/military and scientific voices because they were so emotionless at times, so declaratory, and in many cases, so condescending, if not overtly racist. To dwell in the language in which Filipinos were called “niggers” and “rabbits” and that torture of Filipinos seemed to be so much fun; or that Native and Filipino and Black people’s skulls and genetics were inferior (according to the scientific racism of the time); and also that so much of it seemed to ring true to today. It’s much easier to write personal narrative, lyrical narrative.

6. What do you hope for readers to remember the most?

I hope that readers can see themselves reflected in the glass of the museum exhibits. That regardless of their background, they see how Filipino-American History is American History and not some niche piece of history, but actually demonstrated some of the most egregious cases of scientific racism and exploitation, the epitome at the end of the 19th century, of colonialism and imperialism. I hope readers check out more of the history, and also reflect on themselves and where they come from.

7. What is the most nerve wrecking thing about becoming a mother for the first time? (Congratulations by the way!)

I put this at the end because it feels, in a way, like a bonus question, but also something very relevant to our lives as artists. Becoming a first-time mother involves putting everything aside - my writing, my teaching, my projects - in service of my health and the health and protection of the child I am going to birth. I have birthed many other things: projects, plays and poems, but a human being -- this requires the most sacrifice and faith I’ve ever had to summon. At the same time, I think it’s very important for you, readers, to know that as artists, our lives are our art, just as art is our life. We never stop being one or another (people, mothers, playwrights, performers). If I believed I would stop being an artist, I could despair, but if I were to stop being an artist, what kind of mother would my son have? He deserves my full self. So, while our time becomes more limited and we have to focus on the child, we do not lose ourselves; we simply change.

Thank you for your interest and I hope you’ve enjoyed my answers!

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ndx94 · 3 years

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My pro-choice Democrat anti-Trump pro-CCP parents are furious with me that my college girlfriend and I twice procured emergency contraception in 2007 and my brother will not talk to me as it turns out I’m not a virgin retard, but had sexual intercourse within a committed thought-we’d-get-married love-relationship in my senior year of college and lived with her in the year following that and twice in my life I committed seminal ejaculation within the context of a female anatomy belonging to someone who badly wanted to get pregnant and be “settled” with me at the age of 21, after our parents had very carefully trained us not to have sex before marriage, warned us about attending Rutgers University, and also demanded us to “take responsibility” in the case of conception.

I am not happy about being an abortionist, babykiller, or anything like that but the idea that I wasn’t put up to it in the least or that you can vote for Bill Clinton and love porneia and still hold your son 100% accountable for his morals at the age of 21 when he was traumatized by the Iraq War and sleep-deprived for 3 years due to stress and emotional abuse by his racist Pakistani anti-white roommate in college and naturally he would then not want to come inside girl to cope or work out and be a nice person in hope of getting love in general rather than gun for Law School. TW-1 and I thought we would get married; we were both virgins in the autumn of 2006 and I at least have not so much as copped a feel of a breast-outline or buttock since TW-1 and I broke up in summer ‘07 let alone ‘played the lottery’ (pregnancy is winning).

I don’t like talking about this but it’s one thing people want to know about and I feel the right to say a few words in my defense on Planet Roe America and as a person who I’m pretty sure was conceived both outside of wedlock and in cis-rape or rape by deception, and if my little “Jaehee’s helper-bird” friend is correct, son of a guy who got so mad I didn’t myself rape the American Korean Presbyterian Pastor’s daughter (a.k.a. my sister) in the summer of 2002 that he fond some girl to drug and rape as symbolic coping.

I still remember well the autumn afternoon I met Taiwan-1, whose name is Rebecca or in Mandarin means “pure literature” or as I like to say “pellucid and literary” or “limpid and well-lettered.” As with the pastor’s daughter I in retrospect devoutly if not ardently regret not being closer to her father, who cared about me far more than my biological begetter; a Confucian gentleman and natural scholar / lover of moral philosophy who happened to become a banker just b/c he had to help his family (and all of Taiwan as a national-level financier), rather than a scholar of history and poetry as I apparently myself have become.

The evening Taiwan-1 and I met was the first day in my life I drank a full glass of wine. It was at a Rutgers English Department function related to the Honors Thesis I wrote, also on Taiwan and the director Hou Hsiao Hsien. I had originally wanted to write my thesis on a videogame called Final Fantasy VIII which in retrospect was an augury of how E. Asian media would summon people to Love not just through Squaresoft but later SM Entertainment, about which I also hoped to write an academic thesis before breaking hard toward political scholarship and military or what I call the sort of “hard science ofo Korean Studies’ like statistics, economics, history, primary source documents, constitutional and legal analysis, reading the daily papers, esp. 38North which is an amazing labor of love from generals who just think all day every day about saving their boys.

The emotion that I felt as I drank that my first wine - I had just come from dropping off my desktop / tower PC to be repaired at the Livingston Campus Rutgers PC shop, and was looking forward to working on my writing on my father’s Windows 98 laptop (I didn’t like laptops at the time but felt comfortable / nostalgic using Win98 in 2006, the apparent end of the universe) - was like, “Wahh [soft but real cry], does David Johnston really deserve nothing and no one?” I’m not trying to say I am selfish or unselfish but I had no friends, the only person I really liked was Big Bad Boris a.k.a. Aleksey “Alex” Kasavin who worked Google later on then Microsoft via Yale MBA program, but he doesn’t like / has never opened up to me or wanted to be close or committed or “eternal roommates” as I used to feel about him. I recently wrote Aleksey a last letter just expressing frankly “sorry to you + sorry to me too” that I always wanted to be close with him and this was not reciprocated; it might’ve been a little cross but after 18 years of this person grinning at me without hugging me (platonically but I have always wanted a close male friendship like a I briefly had with Danny Shin in KR), what am I supposed to do but say something?

When Rebecca looked up at me at the RU English Honors Program welcoming gala at Zimmerli Museum I heard what was either glass breaking - like a Jewish wedding where the couple stomp a glass before kissing, a ritual I love / adore somehow - or at least someone toasting. I had talked to this Korean grad-student. Because of Rebecca I came out of my shell a bit and decided instead of pulling ice cream or delivering pizzas I would try to be slightly more social and get a job as a writing-tutor instead, since I was working on my creative writing daily since 2005, and had started my “bioweapons Taiwanese- and Korean-America families + abortion + China and America assassinating indigenous peoples” novel in 2003 (the “soft sci fi of Sci-Rom / Futurist Romantic Realism) novel that my parents hate me not publishing since it predicted Covid in a way), and had a good “ear” as a reader (I loved imitating esp. Haruki Murakami and a little Gao Xingjian).

TW-1 and I courted between September and November. One of the formative drives in our relationship was her parents’ moving back to Taiwan for her dad’s job and mine moving to WI leaving us all alone together in New Jersey. Another, we were both studying Taiwan. My uncle’s wife is also Taiwanese. I don’t want to give the details of our sexual relationship since this person is an important working professional, a scholar, but we lost our virginities in a hotel suite in Washington, which is why I posted this pic of drapes. I’ll never forget how the day afterward I felt an insane, idiopathic “atheist-thought-bullet-packet” in my head then spent the day working on my creative writing at the “business lounge corner” of the Embassy Suite while TW-1 watched anime in her t-shirt. For some reason that day when I went on my PC to check e-mail I got a communication from my online DAI Forum friend who hadn’t reached out to me in more than a year, as if psychically he just knew that there had been a disturbance in the force or, as I like to say, the great “gayakeum” that binds some people had been detuned or returned.

This is “American Korean Millennial Lit; the story of some semen / sperm” but it seems meaningful somehow that on the night I actually punctured her virginal membrance neither of us completed orgasm / ejaculation. She started crying and then I stopped and we both went to sleep and left each other alone. Then all day we just nursed ourselves in our way, she with Japanese stuff and I with my creative writing or “journals.” We went out to dinner and it was a very “Maison Ikkoku” moment in the November weather in her metallic dress and my military jacket and polo shirt and taped glasses. That night I also discovered my incredible intuitive capacity for what you might call “air-braking” or being able to stay inside really really really close to the moment of potential impregnation. I don’t like talking about porneia and had wished I left it all behind but like in JAV when they have to j--- themselves before doing something obscene that men of my gen. were influenced by the millions to do to insult their GF’s and wives t’s pathetic to me that they can’t “air-burst the A-Bomb at 100 feet.” It was 15 years ago and today I think like why did God create sexual organs to look that way and be that way, stuff like frankly what’s the relationship between male circumcision and conscience (removing the ”foreskin of the heart”).

I am not without tremendous fault in my relationship with TW-1 esp. due to the fact that all the while we were together I was haunted by the presence or memory or eventual wish to be together again with S’hai-1. I could never fully convince myself that TW was better and yet by the same token if I’m being honest my attitude in 2006 was, “If Kate doesn’t want me / is never coming back I am still gonna live life and try to be married with children and a profession because I am not trash just because she gets mad and fires me whenever she feels like it.” Our relationship was also marked by meddling from both her family and friends and mine.

I don’t know why I’m saying this now as it is the ancient past and I am writing almost something that I fear the Holy Ghost does not want me to as everyone has to work out their salvation for themselves with fear and trembling and their seed and eggs are their own or the Lord’s.

TW-1 and I had a good relationship in all honesty except for money. The MD at Aurora Psychiatric and my brother and parents are mad. The MD was like “get a car maybe blahblah then do some Bulgarian deadlifts, Axe body spray” ahhaha alright just the car and I LOVE and thank Hananim for this man but he is Indian-American anwyay I was like “Dude we traveled around half the world, we shared so many meals in so many places.” MD didn’t realize relationships are like that; you don’t just arrive but share the whole journey of two lives as one, and it’s infinitely sad when you share that way with one person then another rather than one all the way through. It was really liek a marriage in the sense that pace Ecclesiastes I was “seeing the world with my wife.”

My very favorite day together with TW-1 was in Princeton, NJ at Panera or Au bon Pain drinking espresso. I later wrote a scene in Hot Pursuit in Princeton and also K-pop fanfic in which I was married to I-know-not-whom but we were dropping off our daughter Krystal for classes. It was common for Millennials at Rutgers at least in the honors program to visit Princeton as a vacation or “different oxygen” since P is only about 1 hour down the road from this mad disheartening to some soul-breaking suicide-inducing state school, nestled in woods. Educational Testing Service / the makers of the SAT and TOEIC and TOEFL also have their headquarters around there adn I nearly got a job there in 2007, my first dream job as I believed that the SAT protected gifted young people from arbitrary often intellectually envious subjective teachers; a view on standardized testing shared by all rational governments but especially Korea and Asia in general, and also by the serious and caring moral, now basically religious scholar / sociologist Charles Murray, who believed he was saved from racists, as were many Jews in the days the Ivy League was hyper-anti-Semitic (word to the wise: they’re now anti-Korean mutatis mutandis).

The Lord is high and lifted up

The Lord is lifted up

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blackkudos · 6 years

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Phylicia Rashad

Phylicia Rashad or Rashād /ˈfɪliːʃəˈrɑːʃəd/ (born June 19, 1948) is an American actress, singer and stage director. She is known for her role as Clair Huxtable on the long-running NBC sitcom The Cosby Show (1984–92), which earned her Emmy Award nominations in 1985 and 1986. She was dubbed "The Mother" of the African-American community at the 2010 NAACP Image Awards.

In 2004, Rashad became the first black actress to win the Tony Award for Best Actress in a Play, which she won for her role in the revival of A Raisin in the Sun. Her other Broadway credits include Into the Woods (1988), Jelly's Last Jam (1993), Gem of the Ocean (2004), and Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (2008). She won a NAACP Image Award when she reprised her A Raisin in the Sun role in the 2008 television adaptation. She has also appeared in the films For Colored Girls (2010), Good Deeds (2012), and Creed (2015).

Early life

Rashad was born Phylicia Ayers-Allen in Houston, Texas. Her mother, Vivian Ayers, is a Pulitzer Prize-nominated artist, poet, playwright, scholar, and publisher. Phylicia's father, Andrew Arthur Allen, (d. 1984), was an orthodontist. Rashad's siblings are jazz-musician brother Tex (Andrew Arthur Allen, Jr., born 1945), sister Debbie Allen (born 1950), an actress, choreographer, and director, and brother Hugh Allen (a real estate banker in North Carolina). While Rashad was growing up, her family moved to Mexico, and as a result, Rashad speaks Spanish fluently.

Rashad studied at Howard University, graduating magna cum laude in 1970 with a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree. She is also a member of Alpha Kappa Alpha sorority. She was initiated into the Alpha Chapter during her tenure at Howard University.

Theatre

Rashad first became known for her stage work with a string of Broadway credits, including Deena Jones in Dreamgirls (she was Sheryl Lee Ralph's understudy until leaving the show in 1982 after being passed over as Ralph's full-time replacement) and playing a Munchkin in The Wiz for three and a half years. In 1978, she released the album Josephine Superstar, a disco Concept album telling the life story of Josephine Baker. The album was mainly written and produced by Jacques Morali and Rashad's second husband Victor Willis, original lead singer and lyricist of the Village People. She met Willis while they were both cast in The Wiz.

Other Broadway credits include August: Osage County, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Gem of the Ocean, Raisin in the Sun (2004 Tony Award for Best Actress in a Play/Drama Desk Award), Blue, Jelly's Last Jam, Into the Woods, and Ain't Supposed to Die a Natural Death. Off-Broadway credits include Lincoln Center’s productions of Cymbeline and Bernarda Alba; Helen, The Story and Everybody's Ruby at the Public Theater; The Negro Ensemble Company productions of Puppet Play, Zooman and the Sign, Sons and Fathers of Sons, In an Upstate Motel, Weep Not For Me, and The Great Mac Daddy; Lincoln Center's production of Ed Bullins' The Duplex; and The Sirens at the Manhattan Theatre Club. In regional theatre, she performed as Euripides' Medea and in Blues for an Alabama Sky at the Alliance Theatre in Atlanta, Georgia. Other regional theatres at which she has performed are the Arena Stage in Washington, D.C. and the Huntington Theatre in Boston.

Rashad was the first black actress of any nationality to win the Best Actress (Play) Tony Award, which she won for her 2004 performance as Lena Younger in a revival of the play A Raisin in the Sun by playwright Lorraine Hansberry. She was nominated for the same award the following year, for Gem of the Ocean. Several Black women have won in the Best Actress (Musical) category, including the late Virginia Capers, who won in 1973 for her portrayal of Lena in the musical adaptation of Hansberry's play, entitled Raisin. Rashad also won the 2004 Drama Desk award for Best Actress in a Play for A Raisin in the Sun by tying (split award) with Viola Davis for the play Intimate Apparel.

In 2007, Rashad made her directorial debut with the Seattle Repertory Theatre's production of August Wilson’s Gem of the Ocean. More recently, in early 2014 Rashad directed a revival of Fences, also by Wilson, at the McCarter Theatre in Princeton, NJ, which ran to generally positive reviews, and continued an ongoing focus on Wilson's work, including a well-received production of Ma Rainey's Black Bottom that she directed at the Mark Taper Forum in Los Angeles in late 2016.

In 2008, Rashad starred on Broadway as Big Mama in an all African-American production of Tennessee Williams's Pulitzer Prize-winning drama Cat on a Hot Tin Roof directed by her sister Debbie Allen. She appeared alongside stage veterans James Earl Jones (Big Daddy) and Anika Noni Rose (Maggie), as well as film actor Terence Howard, who made his Broadway debut as Brick. In 2009, she appeared as Violet Weston, the drug-addicted matriarch of Tracy Lett's award-winning play August: Osage County at the Music Box Theatre.

From March 17 to May 1, 2016, Rashad played the lead role of Shelah in Tarell Alvin McCraney's play Head of Passes at The Public Theater. Her performance was positively reviewed.

Film and television

Rashad received a career boost when she joined the cast of the ABC soap opera One Life to Live to play publicist Courtney Wright in 1983. She is best known for the role of attorney Clair Huxtable on the NBC sitcom The Cosby Show. The show, which ran from 1984 to 1992, starred Bill Cosby as obstetrician Heathcliff "Cliff" Huxtable, and focused on their life with their five children. In 1985, Rashad co-hosted the NBC telecast of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade with Pat Sajak and Bert Convy.

When Cosby returned to TV comedy in 1996 with CBS's Cosby, he called on Rashad to play Ruth Lucas, his character's wife. The pilot episode had been shot with Telma Hopkins, but Cosby then fired the executive producer and replaced Hopkins with Rashad. The sitcom ran from 1996 to 2000. That year, Cosby asked Rashad to work on his animated television series Little Bill, in which the actress voiced Bill's mother, Brenda, until the show's end in 2004. She also played a role in the pre-show of the Dinosaur ride at Walt Disney World's Animal Kingdom theme park as Dr. Helen Marsh, the head of the Dino Institute.

Rashad played "Kill Moves" wealthy mother on Everybody Hates Chris on December 9, 2007. In 2007 she appeared as Winnie Guster in the Psych episode Gus's Dad May Have Killed an Old Guy. She returned to the role in 2008, in the episode Christmas Joy.

In February 2008, Rashad portrayed Lena Younger in the television film adaptation of A Raisin in the Sun, directed by Kenny Leon. Starring core members of the cast of the 2004 Broadway revival at the Royale Theatre of Lorraine Hansberry's 1959 play, including Audra McDonald as Ruth Younger, and Sean Combs as Walter Lee Younger. The television film adaption debuted at the 2008 Sundance Film Festival and was broadcast by ABC on February 25, 2008. According to Nielsen Media Research, the program was watched by 12.7 million viewers and ranked #9 in the ratings for the week ending March 2, 2008.

In November 2010, Rashad featured as Gilda in the ensemble cast in the Tyler Perry film For Colored Girls, based on the play For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow Is Enuf by Ntozake Shange. Rashad explained in an interview with Vibe Movies & TV in 2010, that "I saw the original Broadway play. I thought it was amazing how such a story that wasn’t pretty was poetry. Usually poetry is about lofty things and this was the poetry of speech and the movement of everyday people. I found a little bit of it off-putting to tell you the truth, because it was so angry when I saw it. And I think Tyler Perry has added an element here that wasn't in the original stage production, and that is the necessity for taking responsibility for one's own self otherwise you are just living to die. That is where he wrote the line [in the film], "You gotta take some responsibility in this. Otherwise you are just living to die".

In 2012, she starred in another Tyler Perry movie Good Deeds. Also in 2012, Rashad played Clairee Belcher in the remake of Steel Magnolias (the role originated by Olympia Dukakis). This version has an all African American A-list cast, including Queen Latifah as M'Lynn, Jill Scott as Truvy, Condola Rashād as Shelby, Adepero Oduye as Annelle, and Alfre Woodard as Ouiser.

In 2016, Rashad was cast as a recurring guest star in the role of Diana DuBois in the third season of the Lee Daniels-produced Empire television series on Fox.

In 2017, Rashad portrayed Bishop Yvette A. Flunder, pastor of The City of Refuge Church in San Francisco, CA, as past of the Dustin Lance Black mini-series When We Rise. Her appearance in show highlighted the compassion of the church, the commitment of its leadership and the loving home the church provides to minister in the tough, primarily African-American community in San Francisco.

Personal life

Rashad's first marriage, in 1972, was to dentist William Lancelot Bowles, Jr. They had one son, William Lancelot Bowles III, who was born the following year. The marriage ended in 1975. Rashad then married Victor Willis (original lead singer of the Village People, whom she met during the run of The Wiz) in 1978. Their divorce was finalized in 1982.

She married former NFL wide receiver and sportscaster Ahmad Rashād on December 14, 1985. It was a third marriage for both of them and she took his last name. They were married after he proposed to her during a pregame show for a nationally televised Thanksgiving Day football game between the New York Jets and the Detroit Lions on November 28, 1985. Their daughter, Condola Phyleia Rashād, was born on December 11, 1986 in New York. The couple divorced in early 2001.

Awards and honors

2003: Honored as Woman of the Year by the Harvard Black Men's Forum

2005: received an honorary Doctor of Fine Arts (D.F.A.) degree from Brown University

2011: received an honorary doctorate degree from Spelman College for her work in the Arts

2011: named the first Denzel Washington Chair professor in Theatre at Fordham University, supported by a $2 million gift from the actor

Wikipedia

#Phylicia Rashad #06-19

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thetldrplace · 3 years

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Weekend Update

What a weekend.

Saturday started off light. Ran over to visit with Mom, and while there my youngest sister and her husband came over. We all sat for a while and had a good conversation.

Came back home and spent some time laying out in the sun, trying to remedy the extreme whiteness of my legs. (I've heard whiteness is a real problem these days, so I'm doing my part to lessen mine!)

Then we alternated some tv time and running errands.

Around 4:30 got a text reminding us that we'd committed to going out to dinner with our friends V/W, and his father, who is in town. Then the fun started.

While waiting at BJ’s for our friends to show up I got a nasty text from my middle sister. I have had a particularly contentious relationship with her over the last years, and the last year and a half especially., But she has recently started to pick up Italian. She asked me about a few things earlier in the day, and apparently I didn't respond appropriately, so she got mad at me.... again.... for about the 10th time over the aforementioned span and sent the nasty text.

I had at this point pretty much decided that I really didn't want to hear from her and told her that in a text. Then I blocked her phone, for the third time in the same span. She must have figured out that she was blocked and fired off a nasty email accusing me of various crimes against humanity (the only humanity that matters is of course her). At that point, I knew the night was gonna be shot.

I couldn't sleep since I knew this was going to consume my thoughts, so I got up and tried reading through the next poetry volume in my series of books. That didn’t work so I decided the only thing that would help me get some peace would be to write out my responses and see if I could settle in my mind what I would do.

So I spent from 10p to 2a processing through my thoughts by writing these responses. I've kind of come to the conclusion that the only way for me to "let something go and give it to the Lord" isn't trying to ignore the issue and give it to Him by not thinking about it. I can't NOT think about it. For the, it's to process through my thoughts about it and make peace with the issue.

So I analyze what she wrote, then write out how I would respond, if there's anything that I got wrong, if there are areas she is correct about something, etc. Then I write out what I was thinking when I said whatever it was that upset her.

In this case, she sent me some screenshots of the explanation of some of the singular Italian definite articles, Il for masculine, la for feminine and l' for both when the word starts with a vowel. She texted "What is this????" Now she's a long time Spanish speaker, so masculine and feminine isn't an issue. I literally wrote: "Not sure what the issue with the definite articles is for you" and then restated the basic structure.

She responded that I was belittling her and accused me of having a Low EQ (emotional intelligence quotient), something she has regularly accused me of.

I was baffled and showed my wife, who at first said- your wording DOES look kind of insulting. When I showed her the other stuff for context, she then thought it didn't look so bad.

But I wrote back and said "I meant no disrespect, Sorry."

She responded with: Give me a break. That really infers 'don't know why you're so stupid and can't get it". Then she proceeds to tell me that she asked two 'highly educated' friends and they both agreed that it was sarcastic and belittling. And that I was "Low EQ if you can't see that."

So my apology was rejected and she accused me of lying about my intentions. At this point I told her that she had returned a direct insult despite my explanation, and that I wanted to be clear now- I don't want to hear anymore.

Then I blocked her.

I guess she figured out that I blocked her because later I got an email telling me that I was self-righteous and arrogant and a hypocrite because I told her back in 2002 when she left her husband that she didn't have biblical grounds for a divorce, (which was true) and yet I'd had an affair (in 2018). And furthermore, "despite my long history of telling women what to do [I have NO idea what she is talking about here, and my wife said the same thing: What???], don't ever even think of telling ME what to do."

Now, to be honest, I'm ready to cut her completely out of my life. My wife blocked her years ago and doesn't want to hear from her, my youngest sister has told me that as soon as mom dies she will tell her to piss off and not contact her anymore. My middle sister has been in fights with my mom (at whose house she lives rent free), my aunt (who lives with my mom), me, my other sister and her husband, both her daughters and her son hasn't spoken to her in years, although he just recently started to again. In fact, she has had restraining orders on her son and youngest daughter. Basically, anyone she's around for a few weeks, she gets in a fight with.

When my dad passed away last year, she lost it. She was always a daddy's girl, and loved him dearly. And she's held a grudge against my mom for a reason I won't get into since forever. But she treated everyone in the family very poorly, especially my mom and I. Since it was during covid, we couldn't get anyone to do the service, so I basically led the funeral service. We had a tight schedule and I asked my sister to keep her remarks to about 5 minutes, just like everyone else. She went 15. And we had to cut out a part of the service because of it. No problem, didn’t say a word to her.

My mom asked me to put together a small video of the service for her, so my sister, my aunt and I would have to rerecord our thoughts. I asked my sister at that time to edit hers down to 5 minutes. For this she accused me of being the "little dictator of funerals" and singling her out for mistreatment.

She snapped at my mom once telling her, "I just lost my DAD!"…. To my mom.... who had just lost her husband.... ALL of us lost him, and yet not all of us behaved nearly as badly as she did.

The list goes on. I kept a record of the various spats and there were 7 different incidents where she took some innocuous thing I said and rewrote herself as the victim. Which a common theme in her life- everybody mistreats me. She goes on about being the middle child. She'll send me meme's that say: when is it middle child day? Oh yeah, no one cares about the middle child. As if there is an oldest child day.

So.... given the history, I had finally decided I was going to have to cut off contact with her. I have avoided telling her, but if she is going to take any harmless statement as an insult, then ignore my explanations and accuse me of lying about it, then I don't know what else is left. I can't possibly have a relationship with her as long as things are like this. And she's progressively gotten worse over the years, so I don't see anything changing.

Somewhat to my credit, despite some fairly harsh words that I wrote, things I've been wanting to say for years now, I didn't send anything. I remembered in writing it out, that God has forgiven me for much over the years, and while He would have been fully justified in throwing me out in to the street, He didn't. I want to show that same kind of grace, even when that person thinks I'm her enemy. I do recognize that she's being used as a tool of the enemy, and though she is willfully ignorant of the damage she's causing, I still want to hold out hope and act in way that if she ever were to come around, she'd be able to recall that I didn’t lash out at her in these darker moments.

So, I go to church on Sunday morning and one of the songs, Hallelujah For the Cross, just caught me up and I completely forgot about all this stuff. So praise the Lord for that momentary respite.

Came home and watched Italy beat England in the Euro finals... in Wembley stadium in England! So good day there.

Then I got to watch the US beat Haiti in the afternoon, so more good....

Then I got to go play indoor soccer with some friends from church. (I'm exhausted and beat up and limping this morning, but it was still awesome.)

Then this morning I get more crappy emails from my sister. So now I'm kind of thinking about the situation again.

I'm torn between wanting to lay into her and then tell her we're done, or just tell her we're done.

I know that she won't hear anything I say, and the only thing it will do is rile her up and cause her to send off a bunch of hate mail. Part of me thinks I at least owe her some explanation, but that's because my nature tells me that if we (by that I mean any parties involved with anything) can just sit together and be reasonable, then we can come to an agreement. But I've talked with my mom and sister and wife about this and everyone is telling me the same thing: Don't bother, it won't do any good.

She IS my sister, so I don't want to cut her off, at least in principle... but to be honest, I've crossed a mental bridge where I just don't really want to hear from her anymore. At all. But I haven't crossed the Rubicon yet with what I've said to her. I guess I could really use some prayer, and I need to be praying more about it myself.

And that's my weekend update. I know it's kind of a get this stuff of my chest post, but for me, that's what writing does.

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timeisacephalopod · 6 years

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4, 5, 6, 7, 13, 21, 22, 23, 28, 29, 30

Dang, prepare for word count because I never keep these things short and that’s a lot of questions lol.

4) What is your favourite genre to write for?

Urban fantasy hands down. I love worldbuilding, it gives me an opportunity to stretch my creative abilities and I know I’m doing a good job when readers A- buy what I’ve written and B- comment with how grounded it feels. Sci-fi is another genre I love that’s a close second as far as loves go.

5) If you had to choose a favourite out of all of your multi chaptered stories, which would it be and why?

Sum of Our Parts. I sometimes reread my works (its a good exercise to find where you need to improve as a writer and also sometimes I want to read the concept I’ve written so I’ll come back to it when it’s not so fresh). Anyways this story is subtle in its message in a way I’m near incapable of doing. As a person I’m blunt, and I also did schooling in a subject that encourages bluntness and harsh analysis (like most academia really) so my writing tends to be pretty on the nose. Not necessarily a bad thing, but sometimes subtlety works better.

Anyways this story utilizes subtleties I didn’t realize I was capable of writing and actually has a pretty decent plot (I hate plot, I’m fucking allergic to it, I prefer character driven over plot). I have others that have done significantly better with readers but this particular story, to me, is impressive in its world building and in the way the themes were conveyed naturally.

6) If you had to delete one of your stories and never speak of it again, which would it be and why?

The first few stories I ever posted on AO3. Shit is cringey. I was just getting the hang of writing, didn’t have a set style yet, and also I hadn’t gotten a good grip on characters. So the stuff was bad flat out. Its a space I had to go through to get to where I am now, but yikes that stuff is... not good.

7) When is your preferred time to write?

My preferred time to do anything is at night lmao. I function better at night, I’m sharper and more aware. I am a night owl in an early bird world and I resent it.

13) Who is your least favourite character to write for? Why?

I don’t necessarily have a least fav, but I do have characters that are difficult to write. Wanda Maximoff for example is one of those though World War Me had an entire arc for her- but I don’t write her a lot so her characterization can be hard to grasp (and also she’s a whiny brat in canon, which is sometimes painful to watch because she has so much potential). I have a few characters like that from the MCU, but I don’t necessarily have a least fav so much as characters I just don’t care for writing for whatever reason.

21) Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?

For fanfic writers I’m very fond of @tsuki-chibi. I don’t necessarily care for age play (not hate to it!), but I LOVE her writing style and characterizations. I think her style is unique, dynamic, and interesting- From You I Cannot Hide is one of my fav fanfics ever. The way she explores relationships and character dynamics is always a delight to read. I highly recommend, especially if you like age play (non sexual)- that’s sort of chibi’s thing lol.

As for a published author Ellen Hopkins. I recently went back to her books and fuck me are they good. I could never write like Hopkins- she’s gritty, real, and her characters are so heartbreakingly fucked up. Her stories are incredible and all written in narrative poetry, which is a style that has a ton of restrictions but wow does Hopkins make the most of it. I never read stories from an author and like every single book but Hopkins is the exception to that rule. I highly recommend her stuff but be warned, there are always really fucked up dark themes in her stories.

22) Do you have a story that you look back on and cringe when you reread it?

Most stuff I wrote when I first got into fanfic. As I said earlier they’re all bad, necessary for me to have learned, but bad. I rarely feel this way about things I’ve written recently (I can’t think of anything) but there’s usually something I’d change. That’s pretty standard. However lets be glad that shit I wrote as a fourteen year old is in a landfill somewhere, where it fucking belongs. You want cringey, that shit was crying tears of blood cringey.

23) Do you prefer listening to music when you’re writing or do you need silence?

Depends on what I’m writing. Usually I have the TV on for background noise unless I want heavy concentration, then its silent. However if I’m writing BDSM (weird caveat I know) I’ll listen to classical music. Usually that also plays into what I’m writing (sometimes I’ll include the music I listened to in my author’s notes for audience benefit), but it also helps to set the tone and the mood for what I want in that situation.

Basically this is a long winded way of saying it depends lol.

28) What is something you wished you’d known before you started posting fanfiction?

To be honest I think most of what I wish I’d known revolves around how to write but that only comes from writing more so like... that’s unavoidable and not really posting related specifically. Though I still wish I came more prepared to handle concrit- I know I’m bad with it and I always try not to be an ass regardless, but it always feels so personal when I know logically the person is trying to help. This is also because I have anxiety issues, but you know, it would have been helpful to have a better method of dealing before posting. Though none of my early work ever really got bad press (not necessarily of the concrit variety)- that goes to my newer stuff for some reason and there’s been a bit of an uptake of it in the last 8 months or so, which is strange. Point is I wish I was better at handling concrit but that’s all on me.

29) Do you have a story that you feel doesn’t get as much love as you’d like?

I already mentioned Sum of Our Parts- it really should get more love. Sometimes I write crack stuff (like How Tony Stark Got Three Kids and a Romance) and that takes off in a big way, and then sometimes I write stuff I put effort into and get a half a cricket chirp. But yes, this particular fic is one that I’m exceptionally fond of and wish got more love. It even has a real plot!

30) In contrast to 29 is there a story which gets lots of love which you kinda eye roll at?

Its not really a specific fic, but when I post crack stuff sometimes there’s a huge response to it rather than stuff I put effort into and I’m like ??? Bois, why? Granted a good laugh is a nice break from reality so I get it, but sometimes I have to wonder what the shit is going on lol.

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