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#back on my bullshit if trying to get people to read my favourite poems through screencaps on tumblr
tiarnanabhfainni · 1 year
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From Dalkey Island to the North Wall, to the blue distance seizing its perimeter,
Witness - Eavan Boland
@nonsensegnomes since you expressed interest!
credit to cap-that.com for the screencaps
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anonymous-swiftie · 3 years
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If you are on twitter, please retweet this:
https://twitter.com/ASwiftie00/status/1334245577933148164?s=19
Dear #Swifties,
I'm new on tumblr, and I really don't know how to use it.
I know you are the best supporters of the music industry and I'm here to ask your help.
I'm fighting with a crippling depression, that due this covid situation just got worse.
I'm at my lowest, I truly don't know if I will make it through this time.
I always dreamed to talk to Taylor, since I was a teenager. She is the only one that make me feel like I do fit in this world.
I've created this account because I know she is very active here, and I'm trying to reach her with this part of my story.
You can read everything below.
I didn't write any personal information because I don't want this to be seen by my family or somebody that can recognise me.
I don't want upset anyone.
I know that everyone hope to meet or chat with her, and so you are probably wondering why you have to share this here.
You're totally right, maybe it's a stupid idea to ask you this, but I haven't anything left in my pocket to fight this situation, and you're my only hope right now.
Thank you.
#taylor #swift
*******************************************
Dear Taylor,
I keep writing and deleting this, over and over again.
I feel so dumb to write my personal story here, but this truly is my last chance to feel better and try to overcome this giant monster called depression.
I genuinly don't know if I can make it through this year. It's the worst period of my entire life and i don't even know if it's worth living this hell anymore.
I know you have millions of supporters (that probably write you every single day, and they are all better fans than I am, that's for sure) but I know that you proved, time after time, to be so down to earth and to use your time to read your fans messages.. so, in this moment, I'm just trying to share a part of my story with you.
You are the one that make feel understood, since I was like 13teen.
I'm so sorry if my English isn't very good but I'll do my best.
I'm not very active on social media , because I'm very shy when I have to talk about myself.. but If this could work, I must do it.
I will try to send a letter, If I can find the strength to mark this feeling on paper.
**IF I'M WRITING TO SOMEBODY FROM HER STAFF, PLEASE JUST LET THIS MESSAGE REACH TAYLOR**
I'll try now to resume, because I don't want to bother you too much.
This has been a crazy year so far, and the all the time I spent by myself during the lockdown didn't help at all.
This situation brought me back to childhood.
I spent a lot of my days back and forth in hospitals, due to my allergies.
I had to wear a mask all the time I wanted to go outside to avoid severe allergic reaction (that's why this Covid thing awakened some hurting memories)
I didn't have real friends back then, 'cause I've spent most of the summers at home, watching other kids playing around, from my window, or from the windows of my classroom.
It was so hard to make new friends, because the only thing that other kids saw was my mask.
I was the masked kid.
I was the strange kid.
I couldn't play with them.
Everytime I tried to play with them, the only thing I heard was "oh you are ill , I don't wanna be like you so stay away".
This situation made me start to write things in my personal diary.
I wrote small sentences, as a kid, and that was the only thing I could do alone inside an empty classroom during all summer.
This situation continued  for many years.
I wasn't the cool kid before, I wasn't the cool guy after.
The only things that let me enjoy those days were writing and listening to your songs.
I started to listen to your music thanks to my English teacher. She was a fan of folk and country music and she gave me a pic in which you were singing near a lake (I still have that photo somewhere, I strongly remember the white banner with your name written in red on it) and told me to listen to the cd she gave me that day.
I immediately fell in love (I think I still have a crush on you, I'm sorry).
I loved your album. I loved your voice. I loved the lyrics.
I remember having a "test" in school: each one of the class had to write their favourite lyrics and let the others guess the song.
If the someone guessed It, We could play the cd.
I chose Love Story and I translated it in Italian.
The class guessed the song, and I played it.
After the lunch break I went back to my desk and I saw some bullies that were breaking my cd-album and they started to laugh at me because I loved your music an I loved writing poems.
I was a boy so I was a loser because I enjoyed those things.
That felt terrible, but I continued to love your songs even more .
Those were my inspiration to write and to study english.
I felt so good when I listened to your album and this still happens.
Then I went to a private high-school.
Nothing changed, I still was the nerd guy that always got good grades and I have to say that the first year was quite good, but the second year was the start of the apocalypse.
I choose that school because two girls that I knew from childhood went there.
One of the cool new guys started to spread a fake "news" about me.
He said to everyone that I was the boyfriend of one of the two girls that I mentioned before.
So he was the cool guy and one of the girls believed him and told me to f*** myself.
The other girl was her best friend, so you could imagine by what happened next.
After 14 year spent together, I was nobody.
I didn't have "friends" in that class anymore.
I didn't say hello to anybody for 4 years, and nobody would say anything to me.
Nobody to talked with me.
That's great when you're a teenager.
I hated to wake up every morning.
I had an eating disorder, I lost like 22pounds in less than a month. Got hospitalized twice. I kept vomiting for 3 years, every single morning before school.
During that time I only talked with one of my cousins, who lived like 2 hours by car from me.
He was older than me but he always tried to help.
He knew that I loved to write poems so he started to give me guitar lessons.
I made it through a lot of things thanks to him.
I'm sorry, It's hard for me to write this part of the story.
I still get emotional when I think about this.
On the 10TH of December 2013 (some days after his birthday) we received a phone call from his mother: She warned us that he didn't return home after the last working shift.
I wrote a message to him like 3 hours prior to that phone call.
Never had the opportunity to get a reply again.
This year is the seventh year that he is missing.
That destroyed me.
I felt empty.
I felt like nothing couldn't help me.
I still feel that everytime I care about someone in my life, it will disappear someday.
This have happened several other times.
You know when ignorants say that men don't cry, is real bullshit. Men cry. I cried a lot.
I wrote so many poems , lyrics, thoughts in that period of time, that I destroyed my hands.
That was the only way to close my eyes and let me reach another reality because the real one was way too much for me.
Be a sensible man in this world is somehow a curse.
All these things made me afraid  even to hug someone 'cause I feel I'm too ugly or just to scared to be refused.
I will stop here my story, but there's so much more to tell.
I make it through all of these things and memories because I keep dreaming that one day I could meet you and we could talk together.
Dreaming about the fact I could spend a day with you made me find the power to battle my depression.
I'm 25 now and this year I'm not dreaming anymore.
I was going to start again university, I wanted to get a degree in marketing and have the chance to live in the us.
For years I believed that I would make it and hopefully be part of your marketing team.
I'm so stupid. All these years I kept dreaming to avoid pain.
I wanted to pursue my passion and continue to write lyrics but all I was doing was putting myself in unrealistic realities.
This covid situation made everything clear.
When everyone had someone to facetime (or video call) I was alone.
When everyone had someone asking them "how are you?" I only had myself looking in the mirror saying: "Will I ever feel better?"
I've never been the one for anybody, and I think I'll never be.
I won't be the one among all your fans to realize his dream.
Nobody likes me, and I'm exposing myself once again just because I want the opportunity to smile at something that could happen to me.
I'm tired to smile only for others best moments.
I've always seen the sun through a window.
I want to feel happy.
I want to burn my face with the sun.
I'm so sick of hiding my pain,
sick to cry when I'm alone in my car before going to work,
sick to let my eyes rain on my pillow every night.
I'm sick to say to my mother that I'm fine, just because I don't want to make her feel bad.
It's not her fault.
She is battling with a degenerative autoimmune disease, why I should put other weight on her shoulders?
I didn't give up to my weakness before because I don't want to hurt her.
I always say to her that soon she will feel better, that's why your song It's stuck in my head.
But when she won't be here anymore, how I can go through all of that?
I don't even know if will ever get better for me.
Will this pain ever stop?
Sometimes it's so hard to live and so easy to die.
Hope that my dream to spend some time with you can become true.
Thank you for everything, you gave me the strength to go on for many years.. But this time is so hard to put on my armor and continue this battle.
But is this even worth if thy I try to surround myself with people and I always feel lonely?
D.
@taylorswift @taylornation @jackleopards-thedolphinclub
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Prompt List #9 - Historical Aus/Prompts (Requested)
@viseriyen I know your focus was more 18th century France, but I never covered that during my degree, my focus was more 19th century Britain. This has a variety of historical aus/prompts, they won’t all be relevant and I can’t guarantee their historical accuracy for France, but I hope they help, give you ideas etc. 
“I can’t...you know I have no control over my marriage. I can’t even divorce him...I have nothing to hold against him.” “Then give him something to divorce you for.” “And tarnish my good name?” 
AU in which character a is desperately in love with character b, but can’t divorce their husband because divorce laws make it nigh on impossible for ‘wives’ to divorce their husbands without a ‘legitimate reason’. 
Intense heated love letters because we have to keep our distance and can’t do anything that would jeopardise our positions or our reputations. But, I can send you lusty love letters that you hide under your pillow instead. 
Illegitimate child/unwed pregnancy and the trials of being together, loving your child together but knowing they have little standing in society and the way people treat you because of that.
Fan language AU -> https://raulersongirlstravel.com/language-of-fans/#The_Language_of_the_Fan 
My parents are trying to marry me off and you're the latest person they’ve brought to show me off to and I don’t want to like you, but I kind of do. You clearly don’t want to be here anymore than me. 
The smallest touch is the most intense. 
You went off to war and come back after a long campaign the papers have been reporting on. You have appear gruff, mean, and cold to everyone else, but are soft with me. 
The typical trope of hardened, gruff character a who melts around character b. 
(19th c) I’m the town’s school teacher and you’re the gruff wanderer/traveller/cowboy/outlaw/etc. That’s come to town. You help me fix the school house and wrangle the little demons I teach. 
Sweetheart trinkets, like embroidered handkerchiefs, engraved jewellery, hidden message rings, carved trinkets etc. Especially a ‘here I made this for you or I had this made for you’. 
Letters that were never sent. After character a’s death the letters are found and posted to or given to character b revealing the unsaid feelings. 
We compete for top spot in school in spelling, mathematics, science etc. School rivals.
Character a bathing in a river, character b awkwardly stumbling upon them all apologetic or alternatively character a bathing in a river and character b protecting them from some no good ruffians. 
Horse rides; for leisure, maybe character a was stranded and has to share a horse with character b, being stuck in a carriage together. 
Childhood rivals who finally see each other after years of being apart, maybe because of boarding school/finishing school or otherwise. The horrible realisation that your rival is now hot and also can keep up with you in conversation. 
Those gentle kisses to the top of a hand or gentle touches between gloved hands. Gentle hands!!! Gentle kisses!! All demure and totally appropriate but with hidden meaning and heat. 
Childhood friends who haven’t seen each other since they were little and are now betrothed and oh my, you’re beautiful/handsome and I am not prepared for this.
We’re betrothed but have only ever communicated through letters and this is our first ever meeting and i’m petrified you aren’t going to be the person I know through letters
Perfume scented letters, secret code, love poems, and dried flowers. Sent long distances to you with love. 
Contraception catalogues and the very specific packaging of sheaths (aka early condoms) as things like pill boxes, ladies power boxes, cigarettes, etc. to hide them. Do with this as you will. 
I am spinster, you are a bachelor and we have a rivalry because how dare you get paid more than me and while i’m compared to a rotten egg. Alternatively, I am spinster by choice and refuse to marry, but you are making this very very hard. 
Gals being pals, boys being ‘mates’, the known cases of boarding school love between same sex couples and also we’re both spinsters/bachelours and work together in our intellectual studies and we’re totally not in love...no sireee. 
Oscar Wilde had a thing working class and military kink so do with that what you will, i’m sure you could make a upperclass/working class au/couple. One’s rough, resilient, hard working, and one’s dainty, far too spoiled and brattish but they both like each other somehow. 
You’re gruff and rough/snappy, rude, but I can see how sweet you are to horses, animals, kids, and I know there’s a softer side beneath all of that. 
It’s my first ‘season’ and you save me from all these men/women sniffing around me trying to get my attention. 
Scandalous private time i.e. we’re supposed to be chaperoned but here we are in the garden on our own together or in the woods alone or in a small corner without a chaperone and what would people say. 
Character a defending character b’s honour. 
You’re my second in a duel/I’m your second in a duel, please don’t die
All the duels, duelling each other, duelling for the other, defending the other’s honour etc. 
You look beautiful but dear god why are there so many layers! 
I just spent an hour drawing you a bath bucket by bucket because I love you, but i’m a hot mess right now as a result. 
You break social convention for my comfort. I.e. something like you forgo allowing people to watch our wedding night because you want me to be comfortable or you refuse to allow some other stupid tradition that you know scares/intimidates/upsets me. 
Over the top professions of love. 
“I would die, without an answer to my feelings. I would die here. My breath would choke in my throat, my blood run cold, and my selfish heart stop. I cannot live without answer, without knowing whether my feelings are returned or not.” 
Character a being the dotting husband/wife/partner and helping character b get out of all that ridiculous clothing so they can cuddle and sleep. Who needs maids and servants when you have a life partner. 
I want a partnership, a kindred spirit, a soul mate, not a servant.  You want the same thing. I am awed by this.  (possibly + we’re rivals, childhood enemies etc.) 
Your family don’t approve of me, and mine don’t approve of you. I wish we could simply run away, but that’s a foolish dream. 
Educated woman expects man to talk about her wandering womb and how education will make her insane and barren, instead finds man actually wants to hold an intellectual conversation with her and they strike up and unexpected friendship and then love. 
Character a denying themselves of character b because they don’t feel good enough or because they feel it would be selfish maybe because they’re in a war or because they can’t provide what they feel character b deserves. Character b is not here for this bullshit. 
We get trapped in a small cabin in a snowstorm together wild west au. 
We get trapped in any small space in any time period au
I would say we should stop having children but I love each and every one of them and I love you too. Large family AU.
We’ve just lost our child in infancy, grief, hurt/comfort. 
You’re in labour and i’m terrified for you. I am not allowed in the birthing chamber and the midwife would murder me if I tried. 
Alternatively, I refuse to not be present for the birth of our child and don’t care what anyone says. I'm here to support you and will be physically in the room. 
You’re competing for my affections but you never had to compete because you always had them. 
You do not have to duel everyone for me over the smallest slight, look now you’ve gone and hurt yourself and I suppose I’ll have to give you my favourite handkerchief to deal with it.
I am pro royalist and you are pro-republic. I should hate you, you should hate me, but god if you aren’t all consuming. 
You’re one of my suitors and the gifts you bring me aren’t jewels or flowers, but books, microscopes, telescopes, knowledge. I like the way you think and seem to seem me.
I am nearly trampled by someone’s horse in the street, but you step in just in time to get me out of the way even though it puts you in danger yourself
Despite the cost of sugary treats you always turn up to my parlour with some sort of sweet and I know they’re not the cheapest. 
Anything involving a copper bathtub is a vibe. 
I always look for your seal on my letters. Yours is the first letter I read and the one I treasure most. 
I have kept every note, every little, every little thing you’ve ever written or drawn for me.
If images inspire you you might find my other blog @theillustratedmagazine helpful. It has 20th and 19th century illustrations. 
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Survey #462
i am way too tired to mentally flip through lyrics to put here, rip
Who in your family has been married the longest? (and how long?) I have zero idea. When did you last travel alone? Where were you going? The last time I visited Sara in Illinois. Do you take your shoes off when you come inside? Yes. What was the first color you ever dyed your hair? I think I got purple highlights? What was the first social media site you ever used? MySpace. Do you have any exes you really regret dating? One. Of all your friends & family, who has the most nicely-decorated home? Sara's house is lovely. Have you ever been catcalled? No. Are you allergic to any dogs? I might be. Have you ever touched a plant and had hives shoot up your arm? No. Do you think dragonflies are cool? Absolutely! What’s your favorite thing to draw? Meerkats!! Did you toss your hat in the air at graduation? Not high. I wanted to keep it. Do you like fudge? I CAN FUCKING DESTROY SOME FUDGE. Are you an affectionate person? Very. Name something you have to do today: Girt and I are hangin', making fun of bad Netflix anime and going to Buffalo Wild Wings. :^) Would you ever write to a death row inmate? No. People don't get on death row for no reason. I ain't got shit to say to them. Do you reckon online friendships are real? No fucking shit. Most of my most genuine friendships began online. Do you like Slipknot? Yep. Can we talk about how fuckin BADASS Corey's new mask is btw?????????? What do you think of Gorillaz? I like "Feel Good Inc." and one other song I can't remember the name of. Bow ties on guys, dorky or adorable? BOTH!!!!! :') What is the cutest Halloween costume for a baby to wear? GUYS I recently saw a picture of a little baby dressed up as a Little Oogie Boogie and it made my ovaries cry. Which of your friends is the tallest? Which of them is the shortest? Jesus, Girt is a giant. I don't know about my shortest... If you could re-paint your bedroom, what color would you choose? Pastel pink. :') What has been the best night of your life so far? Why? Probably something sexual so let's keep it on the down low lmfaooo Would you ever even think about taking part in a wet t-shirt contest? Uh, no. Even if I WAS confident in my body. Is you hair color the same as it was when you were a baby? No. It was dirty blonde. Have you ever been in trouble for being too loud? Ha, yeah, at school with friends. Not big trouble or anything, we were just hushed. Did you ever attend a wedding that was a complete disaster? No. What is something that you were surprised you were able to do? Hm. What is the most bullshit-sounding true fact that you know? Male cats have spiked penises lkasdjfal;kje;kjwr it's something to do with preventing other tomcats from mating with her. What Oreo flavor is your favorite? Gimme that Double Stuffed, friend. Sour gummy worms or plain gummy worms? SOUR. Ever been in a talent show? How many times? What did you do? Nope. Ever try out for the talent show and not make it? Did you cry? Nope. What’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever cried about? Y'all when I was a very little kid, during my older sister's b-day party, I sobbed because I couldn't pin the tail properly on the donkey lmaoooo How do you feel about the use of nuclear weapons? Absolutely fucking barbaric. What song has the most meaning to you? "Life Won't Wait" by Ozzy Osbourne. What is your favourite dinosaur? Spinosaurus!!!! :') Have you ever made bread? No. Has anything ever fallen asleep on you? Pets, a baby I was watching after, and Jason. Ever been dominated in a game you were/are really good at? yep alskdjfla;jwej Have you ever decided to set fire to something out of anger? No. Would you rather be a house pet or a wild animal? Wild animal, I guess? Have you ever listened to a group of chanting monks? I haven't. If you had to get a portrait tattoo, who would it be of? Probably of Teddy. I've still yet to decide on the total design of his tribute tat I'm getting. Do you like the smell of men’s colognes better than woman’s perfumes? I think so, yeah. How mad would you be if someone copied your original work (story, poem)? I'd be pretty fuckin pissed. Have you ever blown something up in science class? Ha, no. Have you ever gotten a serious wound from shaving? Not serious, no. Have you invented anything, only to find out it actually exists? I feel like I have? Ever realize you never truly LOVED your first love? Absolutely not. I loved him. Would you want a Bachelor/Bachelorette party before you get married? Sure, sounds fun. Do you prefer pads, tampons or something else? As of very recently, I returned to using pads. I used tampons for most of my maturity, but I got annoyed with them for TMI reasons and resorted back to pads, even though I don't like them either. Have you ever dated a model? No. What is your ultimate goal in life? To die happy with my life and what I (hopefully) accomplished. What colour are the socks you’re wearing today? I’m not wearing any. Who was the last person you sent a Facebook message to and what did you say? Girt. It was something regarding how I once considered doing the suicide mission at BWW where you eat a select number of their hottest wings, but I didn't wanna die via chicken. :^) Are you tall, short or average? Would you change this? I'm average in height. I wouldn't change it, nah. Especially now that Girt and I are together the ridiculous height difference is hilarious but also cute lmao. Have you ever worked in a store while someone shoplifted there? Like, while I was there? No. Have you ever had casual sex? Nahhhh. What’s your favourite flavour of frosting? Chocolate. @_@ When you think of your childhood, are the memories mostly happy or sad? Mostly happy, I guess. What is it like being you? Is it enjoyable? It's very boring with few sources of joy. What are your thoughts on the cause of homosexuality? I would *assume* it's a genetic mutation. Reason being, having a romantic partnership without the ability to reproduce defies the motives of science. There is nothing, absolutely NOTHING, wrong with said (and hypothetical) genetic mutation, though. Mutations are just another part of science. They occur naturally. What subjects did you find most interesting in school? Least? Most interesting: literature/English (especially reading like, old mythology and epics and stuff like that), LOTS of branches of science (but primarily genetics), art, and I looooved my four semesters of German. Least: ANY and ALL math, history, economics, social studies... that kind of stuff. Which do you enjoy more–hot or cold beverages? Cold, for sure. What were some of your favorite bands from childhood? Green Day was one. Would you be more afraid of drowning or being buried alive? Buried alive, for sure. It would be much, much slower. Should you really be doing something more productive right now? Well, I SHOULD be sleeping. Today's going to be a long day, because when Girt comes over, he has a tendency to not leave until like fuckin midnight or later alksdjfl;waje Have you ever lived out of your car? No. Does your family own more than two houses? HUNNY we r poor. A relative just committed a very serious crime, do you turn them in? It depends on the exact crime, but odds are, yes. If you're endangering others, byyyyeeee. You’re in the woods, alone, at night…are you honestly not afraid? Bitch I'm terrified. I have zero survival skills. You are on life support, what would you want a loved one to do about it? For the love of god, please kill me. Your child has only a while to live, do you still enroll them in school? That would be up to them. Also, define "a while." How would you feel if you met your idol and they ended up being rude? WELP I have a tattoo in his honor so that would suck ass lmao According to the tale, was Eve wrong for eating and sharing the apple? "God was wrong for even setting up an apple tree and making up rules in the first place." <<<< There ya go. And the punishment was fucking ludicrously extreme. Are you working on any goals? Yes. I'm currently going to the gym regularly to try and better my physical health and then find a job. I know that being connected sounds odd, but trust me: I can barely carry out very simple tasks just because I have absolutely ZERO stamina to do almost anything. I need energy and endurance. I'm also working towards developing some self-love. Which parent named you? I wanna say my mom. Are you currently frustrated with someone? I mean, myself. Aforementioned self-love is hard. I'm just annoyed my head is so reluctant to accept that I'm not a piece of shit for a million reasons. Why have most of your past relationships ended? They all ended for different reasons, really. Are you having any online conversations, currently? I'm not. What’s on your mind? I'm just tired and going back to bed real soon. Have you ever had an argument with a teacher? No.
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jcylenz · 5 years
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....ALL OF THE “IM NOT FROM THE US” QUESTIONS (or alternatively 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5 but i’ll come back for more mwhahshs)
1. favourite place in your country?
Balaton without a doubt. It’s the biggest lake of the country and it has such an amazing atmosphere and feel to it, I really love spending my time there. I usually go at least once, if not more times a year and definitely spend some vacation time there, plus my grandma is from a city next to the lake, so really just many ties there.
2. do you prefer spending your holidays in your country or travel abroad?
I love both? I love going abroad and exploring different cultures and seeing the world (I say that as if I’ve been to so many places when I really wasn’t), but there are also so many beautiful places in Hungary so ya know, both. Gimme both.
3. does your country have access to sea?
Nope, but it used to. We were just chopped up and lost 2/3 of our country after the two world wars.
4. favourite dish specific for your country?
Uhhh, SO MANY. Honestly I love Hungarian cousine so fucking much. Gotta love lecsó and pörkölt and Hortobagyer meat pancakes and Gulash and all the Hungarian food, please don’t make me choose.
5. favourite song in your native language?
Tábortűz by Emberek, and you’re just in luck cause there is a youtube video in which you can read the English translation.
6. most hated song in your native language?
I can’t think of any right now most because I just make myself forget about all the stupid songs my country creates.
7. three words from your native language that you like the most?
Szeretlek, which means I love you. Cipőfűzővégcédőpöcök, which is that protecting thingy at the end of shoelaces. And megszentségteleníthetetlrnségeskedéseitekért, which is this.
8. do you get confused with other nationalities? if so, which ones and by whom?
I don’t think as a nation we get confused with others, we have a pretty unique culture and people, but I do know that a lot of people confuse Budapest and Bucharest, if that counts here.
9. which of your neighbouring countries would you like to visit most/know best?
10. most enjoyable swear word in your native language?
“Menj a picsába!“ Which is mostly the same as “Go to hell!” but in the Hungarian version, if you wanna translate it word for word, it reads “Go to the pussy!“ which makes no sense whatsoever in English but it does make sense in Hungarian s2g.
11. favourite native writer/poet?
Géza Gárdonyi, who wrote, among others things, wrote the book called Eclipse of the Crescent Moon. It’s my favorite Hungarian book without a doubt, favorite classic as well most likely. It tells the story of a siege of a Hungarian castle in Eger in 1552. The siege was a really big thing in Hungarian history and the book tells the story of some of its most famous figures, how they grew up, how they actually got to the castle and how the siege went down, and now I really just wanna reread the entire thing all over again.
12. what do you think about English translations of your favourite native prose/poem?
Never really read any of them, so I don’t have opinions.
13. does your country (or family) have any specific superstitions or traditions that might seem strange to outsiders?
Hmmmm. Probably the strangest is that for us, Santa Clause comes on December 6th and then Jesus Christ brings the Christmas presents on Christmas Eve, not Christmas Day.
We also have a tradition on Eastern Monday where the guys go around the houses to “sprinkle” the girls so they wouldn’t “wither like flowers”, which means you either get buckets of water poured all over you or you they pour a bunch of badly smelling parfumes (like REEEEEALLY BAD ONES) onto your hair and it’s such bullshit and I hate that day with a pure passion.
14. do you enjoy your country’s cinema and/or TV?
Lately I’ve been enjoying it more and more. There was a good 15-20 years period when literally nothing was done that was good or even acceptable but now more and more good movies are made and now we have some good tv shows too which is nice. I still mostly watch foreign stuff though.
15. a saying, joke, or hermetic meme that only people from your country will get?
Uhh, can I pass this? I really can’t think of anything.
16. which stereotype about your country you hate the most and which one you somewhat agree with?
I actually had to look up what kind of stereotypes there are about Hungary, but I really didn’t like the one that kept popping up about Hungarian girls being easy. Fuck that shit, that is really really stupid. The one that I agree with is about our food - that we use a lot of fat and paprika in our food. 100% true. Most of our traditional dishes include both of them and a lot of it but not in a bad way? Like ok I get that probably most people would find them too much, but I do believe if they give it a try, they will realize that it’s actually really good and tasty and you can’t actually taste the fat or anything, it just makes it better. People also say because of our dish types that we eat like kings and I am happy to accept thatxD (it’s most said cause we eat a lot of meat, we have fish soup, different meat soups, we eat stuff like stuffed cabage, stuff that used to be at big feasts)
17. are you interested in your country’s history?
YESSS. I love our history, I think it’s incredibly interesting, incredibly rich and full of amazing stuff. Hungary is over 1000 years old, so many things happened during that time - we had our highs, we had our lows, but we always came out on top and survived in the end and I think that is amazing and something to be proud of.
18. do you speak with a dialect of your native language?
I mean, I am not sure? I don’t think so, but I might be wrong. I mean, there are stuff people say differently on other sides of the country, but it’s not that much distinct. It’s more noticable when it comes to those Hungarians who unfortunately don’t live in Hungary anymore (those who live in the neighbor countries because after the ww 2/3 of our country was taken from us)
19. do you like your country’s flag and/or emblem? what about the national anthem?
I love our flag, though then again it might just be that that is what I know. But it’s nice. I am not too happy about the anthem, it’s too depressing to me.
20. which sport is The Sport in your country?
Football (and by football I mean soccer football) which is a shame cause we suck at it. Like, we won 3 olympic gold medals in a row in waterpolo, but ya know, fuck logic. And I could list so many other sports our country is really good at, but people go nuts about football, so what can you do. (And I am not saying I don’t like the sport, I always watch the world cup, but it’s sad to see the country putting so much money into something we are shit in, putting the players up on a pedestal and forgetting about those who actually get really nice and amazing results.)
21. if you could send two things from your country into space, what would they be?
Uhhhhhhhhh. Paprika and a picture of the Balaton.
22. what makes you proud about your country? what makes you ashamed?
I am generally really proud of our history, that despite whatever shit we were put through, we are still standing, after 1100+ years of being here. And I am ashamed of the general homophobia and fatphobia and racism and the way most people handle this topic aside from the youth. We are really behind on this. Also the fact that we actually have a movie that is called “Coming Out” and it’s about the most stereotypical gay man you’ve ever seen getting hit by a motorbike and suddenly turning straight and him coming out as straight cause legit that is the dumbest and most horrible thing I’ve seen on tv and I want to set everyone who worked on it on flames.
23. which alcoholic beverage is the favoured one in your country?
Beer and wine is pretty popular, plus pálinka, which a Hungarian specific really high % level alcoholic beverage (like 45%-60% even) that we drink in shots.
24. what other nation is joked about most often in your country?
Uhhh, probably Chineese people? It’s really bad, really just the usual racist stereotypical stuff and I hate it.
25. would you like to come from another place, be born in another country?
I think every country has its problems and I am glad I was born here because of the places and the language itself - it’s so fucking beautiful and amazing and lyrical. Would I wanna live here for the rest of my life, though? Nope, definitely not.
26. does your nationality get portrayed in Hollywood/American media? what do you think about the portrayal?
Not really. I specifically remember a Gilmore Girl episode where Michel spoke some stupid Hungarian shit, but other than that… most of the time they call our food shit and make fun of us. Which is really not cool and I hate that so much. (B99 did an episode once where Charles was praising a Hungarian restaurant with a sausage platter and I was SO EXCITED but then Jake called it shit and I knew immediately that most people will believe Jake cause they played on Charles’ weird taste and that everyone will think it’s just one of Charles’ ticks again and it made me so sad srsly. STOP TELLING PEOPLE OUR FOOD IS SHIT, IT’S NOT TRUE)
27. favourite national celebrity?
pass
28. does your country have a lot of lakes, mountains, rivers? do you have favourites?
We have a couple of lakes, two pretty big river and like REALLY SMALL mountains. Most of them I would more likely call them bigger hills instead of mountains tbh. But the biggest geographical thing is definitely the Balaton, which is a big ass lake that most people go to during the summer. It’s also the biggest lake of Eastern Europe which is nice. I love that place, that is definitely my favorite.
29. does your region/city have a beef with another place in your country?
Uhhh, the uni in my city has a beef with the uni I went to cause they used to be under the uni I went to and then they seperated from them and there is some weird who was right stuff going on but other than that not really.
30. do you have people of different nationalities in your family?
Nope.
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Finished this at 1:30 am. I think we all secretly want Chicago to be a horrid person.
The girls are all gathered at one of the quieter sections in the restaurant of the hotel they were currently residing at. Laughter and singing could be heard throughout the restaurant, judging by the dirty looks that many people were throwing them.
As the girls ate their meals, the conversations became hushed, but not dead.
Burping loudly, Fat Amy casually commented, "So Chlo... where's that handsome military man who has been vying for your attention?"
The Australian quickly glanced at the now sullen brunette sitting opposite her; maybe this would give her the push she needed to do something about her feelings.
A faint blush appeared on the redhead's cheeks. Suddenly shy, she turned her eyes to the table and bit her lower lip thoughtfully. "Well, I-l"
She was interrupted by the buxom brunette as she carefully inspected her perfect cuticles. "Yeah girl! If I were you, I'd have already done him twice by now..."
Not to be outdone, the Australian retaliated, "Oh please Miss Sex-On-Legs... he'd be eating off the palm of my hand long before you'd get your two rounds out of him!"
Chloe's anxious blue eyes bounced back and forth between the two girls, wanting to stop the argument before they were kicked out of yet again another restaurant. "Yeah, but-" She was once more cut off by Stacie.
"That's bullshit, and you know it you-"
Aubrey spoke over the girl, and gently tapped Chloe's arm to get her attention. "He's the type of man my daddy would tell me is reliable, respectful and passionate."
The intimidating blonde had incredibly high standards when it came to people who wanted to date her best friend. Compared to every other guy, he was a shoe in... however, she knew that her best friend did not want someone safe... but someone real. Of course Chicago was real, but maybe not the kind of real that Chloe's heart was attracted to... unlike one other person.
Aubrey's musings were broken by a perplexed, "I don't see it," from Cynthia-Rose; The Bellas' resident lesbian.
A sarcastic "That's because you prefer Tacos over disgusting hot dogs" was heard in response and, although Beca was the Queen of Sarcasm, there was something else hidden in her tone... bitterness maybe.
Chloe glared at the younger brunette, something that surprised the other girls.
Everyone could see that Beca had changed; she was more open, especially around Chloe... and because of Chloe. She was more receptive of touching and contact... however, after meeting the taller and handsome man that had caught Chloe's interest... she had closed up once more. Old habits die hard.
Turning back to Cynthia-Rose, after ignoring Beca's scathing remark, she said "sometimes it's nice to feel appreciated, beautiful, even. In fact, when I returned to my hotel room, I found the most beautiful flowers on my bedside table." The girls gasped in awe.
Chloe continued, "I didn't even remember telling Chicago that they were my favourite type and when I asked him about it, he acted all surprised and then said he was glad I liked them and that he 'had a feeling' that they were my favourite."
Fat Amy glanced next to her at Beca and noticed her hands clench into fists upon the surface of the table, her head bowed, and that she was blinking rapidly... as if trying not to cry. She gasped, and Beca turned to her questioningly.
Her eyes wide in shock, Amy turned back to Chloe and interrupted her once more. "Were those flowers Orchids by any chance?"
"Yeah, why?"
The Australian felt her heart break for her best friend, who was looking away once more. Unbeknownst to anyone, Amy had seen the flowers in hers and Beca's shared room whilst the younger girl had been showering.
"Nothing. I just find it strange how Chicago had known when you didn't tell him. It doesn't sound like something he'd remember."
Chloe looked thoughtful for a moment, "I suppose you're right, but he admitted to buying them for me... and writing the poem that sat next to the flowers... it was one of the most beautiful things I've ever read in my life." She gushed.
Aubrey sat up straight at Chloe's words, her eyes darting directly to Beca's... could it be possible? Beca's eyes shimmered in anguish.
"Chlo, I need you to tell me word for word what this poem said." There was no amusement in her tone; Aubrey knew something felt off with Chicago, but this... this had crossed the line.
"Why?" Chloe demanded, suddenly defensive.
"Please?"
Sighing, she took out the folded piece of paper from her purse and cleared her throat.
"Each morn the sun rises bringing with it an abundance of hope and certainty.
Certainty that everything will be okay, that the sun will always continue to rise
Even on our worst days.
Our worst days that overshadow us with darkness and hopelessness.
They submerge us until we feel that nothing could ever bring us back to real life.
You are the shining star that never fails to guide us home,
Through the rough and stormy seas, you are our calmness, our hope, our saviour.
You take our hands in yours, and with a gentle smile, you embrace us into your warmth, with never an intention of letting go.
With each word that falls from your lips,
It replenishes that courage that was long thought lost.
With each beat that accompanies your ideas, it reminds us that we are alive and that we should never give up.
With each melody and harmony that embeds itself into your music, you remind us that there is nothing to be afraid of.
In this great, big and beautiful world where each crevice unfolds new mysteries and secrets,
We are who we are; that will never change"
The girls gasped once more... there was something in the words. It didn't sound like Chicago, but no one dared to burst Chloe's bubble as she stared at the words dreamily.
Beca stood up suddenly and rushed to the rest room; leaving the girls in an awkward silence.
Aubrey decided to take matters into her own hands; of course she recognised the poem. Beca had asked her opinion on it, she just had no idea that Chloe was the subject matter... and here was Chicago taking credit for something he clearly did not do.
Aubrey was not blind, she could see that Beca was in love with Chloe; however she also knew that Chicago was Chloe's way of trying to move on from Beca... unsuccessfully, she might add. She couldn't believe that military man was claiming the credit. She had to say something. She and Beca had had their differences, but those had been long settled and they were very good friends.
Staring after the brunette, Chloe wondered what was wrong with her.
Taking a measured breath, Aubrey grabs her best friend's attention by tapping her shoulder. "I'm sorry Chloe, but I can't let the facade continue. It wasn't Chicago that left you the poem and flowers... it was Beca."
Thinking it was a joke, Chloe giggled, but seeing her best friend's face remain unchanged, her smile dropped and she looked through the words once more.
Her attention was grabbed the moment Beca returned to the table from the bathroom.
"YOU WROTE THIS?!" Chloe shouted in disbelief, attracting unwanted attention.
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hollywayblog · 6 years
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2017 or How To Be A Depressed Piece of Shit and Still Get Stuff Done
I’ve been putting this off. Partly because I’ve accomplished so much this year I just know I’m going to forget to include many of those accomplishments in this post. But mostly because this year has been fucking hard. It’s impossible to look back on all my achievements without also feeling how lost, angry, lonely, confused, betrayed, anxious, depressed, bereaved etc. I was while conquering these goals.
I could go into the nitty gritties of it all, but this isn’t a self-pitying post. This post exists because no one – including me – gave enough of a shit when I actually did these things, which I did while grieving, while battling mental illness, while trying to be a good person, while living in a situation that does everything it possibly can to deter productivity. And fuck, man, I am choosing now to fucking appreciate myself and all the amazing things I did this year. Things I only ever dreamed of doing in some distant someday.
I am also making this to provide a little bit of motivation for anyone who is in the same position I was in a year ago – thinking “I would love to actually make a living as an artist but I’m too scared to share my work.” Well, here are a few tips for you, including:
1.       Don’t be a fucking idiot. If you’re too afraid to share your work you will never get recognised. You will never get feedback. You will never get better. There is no magical time where you’re going to feel 100% ready. Sit down, work on something you care about until it’s done to your standards – or as close as it’s ever gonna get – and choose someone to share it with. Bonus points if it’s someone you know will be honest with you.
2.       Whatever your craft is, practice every day. If you’re a writer you must write every day, even if it’s just keeping a journal. Practice does not make perfect and it would be boring if it did. Practice simply ensures that every day you’re alive you are getting better. Besides, the consistency with which you work makes the difference between a professional and a hobbyist. Decide which one you really wanna be.
3.       Support other artists. Subscribe to Patreons. Watch people’s YouTube ads. Like and reblog/retweet. Share the things you love – and make sure you include the source. I’m going to write a whole article about this, but what goes around comes around. DO NOT expect people to support you if you’re living in your own little bubble not making an effort to support anyone else. (But also don’t expect the people you support to give your energy back to you. You can’t control other people. Support because you genuinely want to and not on an unspoken quid pro quo basis.)
4.       Make sure you take time to study your craft. This is different from practicing. For example, as a writer and future director I watch many film analyses, and when I watch TV and film or read a book my brain is always combing through the details. If you’re a painter, for example, take trips to the museum and study – actually study – paintings. You should also switch off sometimes and just exist. Just feel life, textures, colours. Breathe. You cannot be outputting content all the time. But with that said…
5.       Work motherfucking hard. There’s a terrible saying, “Do what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life.” It’s utter bullshit. Most people who are passionate about their career work harder, longer and with more mental awareness than almost anyone. Caring about the thing you’re working on is fucking exhausting, and if you’re not prepared to work hard then see above; you may be a hobbyist and not a professional. That is perfectly fine. In fact I wish I had the luck to be able to continue writing in that capacity, where it is just a fun personal project and not a succubus consuming my life. But alas.
6.       Deadlines can help with projects, but don’t put time constraints on your success – whatever that is to you. Even working harder than anyone has ever worked will not grant you instant gratification. I have been a serious, working writer for almost a year and I am not earning a living AT ALL. That is not unusual. I have laid the foundation for my career, and that ain’t nothing, but that’s something I have to remind myself every day. These things take time. And with this in mind...
7.       The work must be the reward. I’ll say it louder for the people in the back: THE WORK MUST BE THE REWARD. Probably a lot of this is to do with my mental illness, but when I first held Crying on My Birthday – my book of poems – I felt… nothing. Same when I finished National Novel Writing Month. Same when I finished the first draft of my first novel. Same when I finished the first draft of my second novel. Same 90% of times people tell me they couldn’t stop reading my stories. I acknowledge those things on a logical level, but they don’t warm me. But you know what did feel like something? Cultivating those works. Writing those poems, getting to know those characters, those moments when the story just opens up to you and tells you where it’s going. I also feel a certain satisfaction when I reread my own work after a long time; a kind of, “Oh. I wrote that?” The point is that just like New Year’s and Christmas, the big moments rarely feel like they should. If you hate the process of writing, don’t be a writer. As challenging as it is, I love writing. It’s one of the only times when my mind is focused on only one thing and not an exhausting swirl of every problem ever posed to mankind. And hey, maybe one day I’ll reach a milestone that feels significant, but to be honest I doubt it. In general I suck at feeling what I’m supposed to. The. Work. Must. Be. The. Reward.
So where did these principles actually get me in 2017? In just under twelve months, here’s what I made happen:
-          Conceptualised, wrote, edited, formatted and published an anthology of poems all within three weeks.
-          Completed National Novel Writing Month (50,000 words of a novel in the month of November) then proceeded to complete the almost 80,000 word first draft by mid-December.
-          Finished the in-depth episode outline of the television series I’m writing with my sister.
-          Edited and formatted my sister’s novel.
-          Got published in HighGloss Magazine, became a regular contributor of articles and poetry.
-          Joined a writing group, met other writers, published an anthology together which featured my short story.
-          Began to edit the charity anthology I’m publishing. (Still accepting submissions.)
-          Got offered a job as a copywriter. (Stay tuned.)
-          Wrote my first ever short story which I entered in a competition (didn’t win, whatever).
-          Wrote two more short stories.
-          Wrote a thriller novella which I published on Wattpad on a chapter-per-week basis.
-          Wrote, edited and published several poems online. I won’t go into how much each one of them means to me and how much courage it took to share them.
-          Wrote a poem for my friend Sarah, still one of my favourite things I’ve ever written.
-          Wrote a piece of fiction for my friend Hayley.
-          Hosted the “1KADAY” challenge, which went on to become the online writing group I run.
-          Created my first short film.
-          Took up film photography, something I am so ridiculously in love with.
-          Returned to/fell back in love with the gym after so many years of letting my anxiety get in the way.
-          Read twenty novels, probably a quarter of which became some of my all-time favourites.
-          Vastly improved my French.
-          Curated some bomb playlists that people loved.
-          Drove again for the first time in years, got closer to getting my license.
-          Read my poems out loud to people I care about.
-          Learned several songs on my shitty keyboard, learned to play badly and sing without shame.
-          Wrote a tonne of lyrics.
-          Somewhat maintained this blog. Somewhat.
-          Got up the guts to make a Patreon.
-          Helped others with their writing whenever I got the chance.
-          Made art that helped people. Made art that helped me.
-          Never gave up.
-          Proved to myself what an unstoppable badass I am. Like seriously what the fuck I’m amazing.
-          Survived this fucking year.
P.S. I won’t be making a 2018 goals blog. I realised that what I achieved in 2017 differed so greatly from (and far excelled) what I intended to do that there was no real point projecting into the next twelve months what might happen. I find it much more productive to sit down at the start of each month and week and get my priorities straight.
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herdustisverypretty · 6 years
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Question tag for AO3 writers~~
I found the original questions on AFF a while back, and I thought since I’ve been tagged in so many meme things lately, I’d also tag a bunch more people in this one XD Since the questions were designed for AFF, I’ve reworked some of them to fit for AO3 writers. I also removed two questions rather than trying to translate them to AO3 terms.  So, I’ll fill out my answers first, and then put the blank questions again at the bottom for you to easily copy and paste! 
1. How did you come up with your username and what does it mean?
'Her dust is very pretty' is the last part of a Dorothy Parker poem called Epitaph for a Darling Lady. Dorothy Parker is the only poet I’ve ever liked. I usually detest poetry and find it stupid and annoying. But I like most of hers. I used this as my first tumblr URL too. It’s just kind of my name now. I’ve been using it since 2010. 
2. Which fanfic of yours has the most feedback? (bookmarks/subscriptions/hits/kudos)
Subs is Chemicals with 177, bookmarks is Neko at 116, hits is Chemicals at  18600, and kudos is Chemicals again with 694. Stats are weird. 
3. What is your AO3 profile icon and why did you choose it? 
It’s ahegao Kuroko lmaaaaooooo. I chose it cause I love slutty Kuroko. 
4. Do you have any regular/favourite commenters?
Quite a few actually. Maybe too many to list even... I’d say High_Noon and Goldfasan are the ones I recognise or see the most?
5. Is there a fanfic that you keep going back to read again and again?
I don’t actually read that much fanfiction? Which might be odd for someone who writes a lot of fanfiction. Idk I tend to find a few really good ones and then reread them for eternity and never look for anything new. Though tbh I haven’t read fanfiction for a number of months now. I’ve been too busy, or too stressed (and definitely too autistic). 
6. How many stories are you subscribed to? How many do you have bookmarked? Subbed to 7 fics (most of which are really old and will never be updated, or are friends’ stories). I have 231 bookmarks. Apparently. I have no idea what they all are, because only 30 of them are my OTP, and I only started bookmarking last year, and again, I don’t read much. I think AO3 is lying to me. Likely, as it lists my subs as 67, but I counted them and there’s only 7 in there plus 2 author subs. Conspiracies. 
7. Which AU do you find yourself writing the most?
I define AU as ‘completely unrelated to the main plot’ so, if the KnB characters were in fuedal Japan. I use UA (universe alteration) to define things such as if a KnB story followed the general main plot (basketball) but had changes to it, such as omegaverse (though I don’t consider ships UAs). With that said, tbh I don’t think I have one? I write a whole range of stuff. I don’t think I lean towards any particular AU or UA. 
8. How many people are subscribed and bookmarked to you in total? (you can view this on the stats page)
Total bookmarks: 1285 Total subs: 504
9. Is there something you'd like to write about but are afraid of people judging you for it? (Feeling brave? If so, share it!)
Honestly I don’t think I’m ashamed of anything by this point. I’m probably one of the most non-judgemental and open-minded people you’ll meet, so I kinda have no shame with that. Like, I won’t judge other people for having weird interests, and therefore don’t feel any shame for my own because I see no reason to have a problem with it. If people don’t like my writing they don’t have to read it. No one’s forcing them to. 
10. Is there anything you would like to be better at? Writing certain scenes or genres, replying to comments, updating better, etc. 
I’m mostly okay at replying to comments, sometimes I won’t reply if I don’t know how to respond or I’m busy/tired. Unless I feel like there’s no reason to further reply to a comment, I’ll usually try to reply later (sometimes months....). I need to get better at putting description in instead of just rushing through something and shoving it at the internet saying “I’M SICK OF IT JUST TAKE IT HOW IT IS”. Ideally it would be nice to update more frequently and consistently but that’s something that will never change due to my mental and physical health sooo. Whatevs. 
11. Do you write rarepairs or popular ships more often?
tbh I think it’s arguable if even the more popular ships I write are even that popular. The most popular ship I write is Akakuro I guess? I do write a bunch of rarer pairs (Mayumibu hghghghgh also Aoaka yes) occasionally though.
12. How many stories have you posted on AO3 to this day (finished and unfinished)?
87. Which I feel like is a lot considering I did about 50 of those in one year. 
13. How many stories do you have saved in/with your writing program?
39 in Google Docs. Possibly. I’m half asleep and may have missed some. I have a crap tonne more in MS Word, but I don’t want to count them all. Oh, fyi, these are only for my current fandom. I have other stories in Docs and Word that are original or other fandoms. 
14. Do you write down story ideas, or just keep them in your head?
Write everything down. Either in a document or just in the notes on my phone. 
15. Have you ever co-authored a story?
No, but I’d like to. It sounds interesting. 
16. How did you discover AO3?
An uh, ex-something found it in 2013 and showed it to me. I liked it more than FF.net, which always gave me a headache with it’s shitty UI and layout, and Livejournal, which was either dead or didn’t exist for my fandoms back then. Does anyone still even use those 2 sites as their main story platform?
17. Do you consider yourself to be a popular or famous author in your fandom(s) on AO3?
Not at all. I might say I am possibly known or recognised, but I definitely do not think famous or popular at all. Far from it. 
18. Do you have a nickname or fandom name for your readers?
Does anyone? I’m not published yet lmao and neither am I a Korean idol so uhhh, no, my readers do not have a nickname or fandom. 
19. Was there an author who inspired or encouraged you to write?
I would say no. No one prompted me to start writing when I was little, I just did it cause I liked it. Even when I started writing seriously, and when I started writing fanfiction, it was all me. I guess there have been writers who have inspired me to get better though? Namely Mikssi and goseum-dochi. 
20. What writing advice would you give to a beginning author?
I was once told that if you can't think of anything to write just put SOMETHING on the page. Be it a date or a title or an idea. Just get something on the page. I now start every story by dating when exactly I started it (yes even the exact time). It's less intimidating that way. Writing down my ideas also helps me plan. 
21. Do you plot out your stories, or do you just figure it out as you go?
I often have a general idea or at least ideas for future chapters. But mostly I just bullshit my way through it lmao. It often backfires. 
22. Have you ever gotten a bad comment on a story? If so, what did you do?
The only negative comment I've gotten on a story that really upset me was once being called insensitive when referring to sexual abuse. It really offended me because. Um. You... do not know my past experiences. At all. And I'm not going to bring them up because of that. But wow. And it bothered me too that they called me insensitive when I was just writing from experience. Like ok. Sure. Cool. I mean I could see where they were coming from, but I’m going to take a guess and say they had never experienced what I was writing about.  I’ve gotten a couple of other negative comments, but they didn’t upset or ‘get to me’ so much as just piss me off due to the stupidity of them. 
23. Is there a certain type of scene that you have a hard time writing? (action, smut, etc..)
Action. 
24. What story(s) are you working on now?
Uhhh, I guess mostly right now I’m working on Nano, and one other story. I have unfinished and ongoing things, but they’re on the back burner right now. 
25. Do you plan your next project(s) before you finish your current ongoing story(s)?
To a really problematic degree. 
26. Do you have a daily writing goal set for yourself?
Definitely not. Way too much pressure. Do not need. 
27. Do you think you've improved as a writer since you first started?
My god, yes. From my early original (shite) stories of 2007-2009, to my really early (also shite) fandom fics in 2011-2012, to my explosion in the VIXX fandom (at least 80% shite), to now... My goodness. I’m actually in the half-hearted process of editing old AO3 fics to be easier on the eyes. Mostly that’s relatively minor changes. If I went back to AFF. Hoo. I’m highkey scared of looking at some of those again. 
28. What is your favorite story that you've written?
I guess I’d say Chemicals. It’s a story I always wanted to do, and I’m happy with how it turned out. I also have to make mention to NMT, since that thing was my life for like 2 years, and writing it helped a lot. I also am quite fond of what I refer to as my ‘cat vampire story’ aka this. I also don’t mind my story Wanderlust. I think I put more effort into that one than I do with most things I write. 
29. What is your least favorite story that you've written?
MMMMM I can think of it and I don’t want to acknowledge its existence at all. IT NEVER HAPPENED AND IT WAS A MISTAKE. Also NMT. 
30. Where do you see yourself (as a writer) in 5 years?
Probably not published yet but goddamn will I try (not very hard though)
31. What is the easiest thing about writing?
For me it's writing dialogue. Chat room/text message based dialogue is especially fun.
32. What is the hardest thing about writing?
Starting and ending the story (or, if it’s a chaptered story, ending the chapter). Also liking your own work. And not comparing yourself to others. And holding onto the hope that maybe one day you’ll actually be successful and you should keep going. 
33. Why do you write?
idek. It’s fun? Satisfying? It arguably sometimes entertains people? Gives me something to do. Unleash all that creativity bopping around up there. idk. Do I need a reason? 
Anyways that’s all the questions, so I’ll put them here as well without the answers to easily c+p.
1. How did you come up with your username and what does it mean? 2. Which fanfic of yours has the most feedback? (bookmarks/subscriptions/hits/kudos) 3. What is your AO3 profile icon, and why did you choose it? 4. Do you have any regular/favourite commenters? 5. Is there a fanfic that you keep going back to read again and again? 6. How many stories are you subscribed to? How many do you have bookmarked? 7. Which AU do you find yourself writing the most? 8. How many people are subscribed and bookmarked to you in total? (you can view this on the stats page) 9. Is there something you'd like to write about but are afraid of people judging you for it? (Feeling brave? If so, share it!) 10. Is there anything you would like to be better at? Writing certain scenes or genres, replying to comments, updating better, etc. 11. Do you write rarepairs or popular ships more often? 12. How many stories have you posted on AO3 to this day (finished and unfinished)? 13. How many stories do you have saved in/with your writing program? 14. Do you write down story ideas, or just keep them in your head? 15. Have you ever co-authored a story? 16. How did you discover AO3? 17. Do you consider yourself to be a popular or famous author in your fandom(s) on AO3? 18. Do you have a nickname or fandom name for your readers? 19. Was there an author who inspired or encouraged you to write? 20. What writing advice would you give to a beginning author? 21. Do you plot out your stories, or do you just figure it out as you go? 22. Have you ever gotten a bad comment on a story? If so, what did you do? 23. Is there a certain type of scene that you have a hard time writing? (action, smut, etc..) 24. What story(s) are you working on now? 25. Do you plan your next project(s) before you finish your current ongoing story(s)? 26. Do you have a daily writing goal set for yourself? 27. Do you think you've improved as a writer since you first started? 28. What is your favorite story that you've written? 29. What is your least favorite story that you've written? 30. Where do you see yourself (as a writer) in 5 years? 31. What is the easiest thing about writing? 32. What is the hardest thing about writing? 33. Why do you write?
People I’m tagging @justsimplyl | @6ubble-gum | @the-chibi-sempai | @humanitys-shortest-soldier | @friendlyslowpoke | @kelandry5 | @someone-stole-my-shoes
Fill out the questions and tag more authors you know ^^
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bluedelinquent-blog · 7 years
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         i. right, where do i even start with ep 2? hold on, lemme roll myself an after work joint.... 
         right, where were we? episode 2 !! i’ve literally been holding all this in for days bc i didn’t want to spoil anyone but omg hrgdfhgkjdfhgkjh !! it was so, so good. there’s so much i want to say about it, so i’ll go through it step by step, whatever stuck out to me. you don’t have to even read this, it’s all just crazy, fangirl ramblings. i just love chloe so much ok??? 
         so imma just say THAT BEGINNING. i knew chloe was going to end up being suspended/expelled at some point which i knew was gonna be a bummer, but the way she went out !! that’s my lil firecracker. <3 i decided to go with owning up & taking all the blame bc i feel like she hella would’ve done that for rachel. you think she’s gonna stand there & let them kick her girlfriend out of the play like that?? hell no. also lowkey loved the bit where justin robbed her hidden stash. i’d murder a bitch.           ALSO MY FAVOURITE BIT OF THE WHOLE EP WAS WHEN CHLOE TRASHED THE TOILETS WITH GRAFFITI TO DAUGHTER ‘NO CARE’ THAT WAS THE FUCKING BEST THING EVER !! LITERALLY HAD TEARS IN MY EYES BC IT WAS SO FUCKING CHLOE          then the car park bit with eliot. kjhfdgkdfg. it’s so cute, the little crush he has on her. the little book of poems he dedicated to her, secretly. chloe’s not used to people crushing on her, it’s usually the other way around. but yeee, i’m loving how they’re kinda continuing on the legacy of max/warren but with chloe/eliot.          OKAY AND THE DISAPPOINTMENT CHLOE MUST’VE FELT WHEN HER MOTHER ‘CHOSE’ DAVID OVER HER PRETTY MUCH. ;_;  SHE LITERALLY FEELS LIKE EVERYONE IS GETTING UP & FUCKING OFF. EVERY SINGLE DAY SHE WAITS FOR THE NEXT PERSON TO GET UP & LEAVE.           okay & then we have the junkyard scene which always gives me hella feels bc i think of all the people that have died there or have parts of their death there ( the wrecked car, rachel’s body, chloe was shot there...twice). anyway, i love any scene where chloe’s chilling out & smoking, so where she’s hanging upside down, i like... squealed. also the bit on top of the ship, with the daughter song. <3           CHLOE’S MOTHER FUCKING CAR & THE DREAM SEQUENCE. i legit cried when i saw william & how fucked up he was, that whole scene was my aesthetic goals in life tbh. gave me severe donnie darko vibes, idk. it just kinda shows that chloe’s series is gonna be hella dark, which i kinda assumed anyway. WHICH IS WHAT I KINDA WANT BUT THEN I’M SO PROTECTIVE OF CHLOE. ;_;           ALSO CAN I JUST SAY ALL THESE REFERENCES TO FIRE ARE LITERALLY GIVING ME LIFE. <333333 IDK WHY BUT I REALLY DO RELATE FIRE TO CHLOE (AND OBVS RACHEL), BUT I FEEL LIKE IT FULLY PORTRAYS HER RAGE & HATRED AT THE WORLD. LIKE SHE ENJOYS IT.            THEN WE HAVE THE RACHEL/CHLOE CAR SCENE. ;_; ;_; JUST KINDA PROVES THEY’RE GF’S. i also like how they can literally talk to each other about anything, no filter. their little therapy sesh. <3 the fact rachel let chloe put her legs up on her & held onto them. <3 the little bag of clothes she brought her. <3 rachel resting her head on chloe’s shoulder. <3 chloe’s so shook, she never expected this to happen to her. it still feels so surreal for her.           MY SECOND FAVE PART OF THAT EP WAS THE RV SCENE WITH CHLOE & FRANK. :’) literally, related so much man. her trying to sneak the bag of weed he kept on the side & him calling her out, i was literally laugh crying. the funniest bit by far. y’know, i reckon their relationship is one of my faves? they’re both dropouts, both feel super worthless, they compliment each other really, really well. you can tell frank cares too tbh.           it’s also official that samuel is the deepest character in this game tbh. :’) that mother fucker had chloe stunned, she never shuts her mouth when kinda being insulted?? also steph having a crush on rachel, i was like nahhhh, back off my girl. fite me. you gotta understand rachel/chloe be my otp. also that fucking scene with skip outside the boys dorms, period talk literally works every fucking time. trust me. xD that scene with mikey & drew shook me up too. i hate the sound of someone being beaten the shit out of. you can tell that sucked for chloe too, cause she couldn’t do anything to help. :(          WHEN THE SCENE BACKSTAGE OF THE PLAY BEGAN I HAD SHIVERS BC THE MUSIC, THE ATMOSPHERE. WELL DONE LIFE IS STRANGE YOU’VE DONE IT AGAIN. GZ. the bit that got me the most was chloe sticking up for nathan, yet again. his dad’s a fucking asshole. but yeee, it makes me sad thinking about chloe standing up for the person that killed her all the time. like they have no idea what’s to come?? it makes me so so sad.... knowing chloe’s going to lose rachel soon.          CHLOE IN THE FUCKING BLUE BIRD OUTFIT I ALMOST DIED. HER FUCKING PISSED OFF FACE. also, the fact rachel can literally make her do anything. i love that about my otp, anything is possible. <3 THE SCENE ON THE STAGE AS WELL WAS SO BEAUTIFUL. ALL OF IT. RACHEL AMBER LITERALLY GOT ON ONE KNEE & SPOKE TO CHLOE LIKE SHE WAS THE ONLY ONE IN THE ROOM. IT GAVE ME SHIVERS. i also fucking hated the bit where everyone laughed at nathan, that’s bullshit. those assholes are what pushed nathan towards snapping & killing chloe. -.-         OKAY AND THE KISS. IT WAS EVERYTHING I WANTED IT TO BE. ;_; ;_; THEY’RE SO GOOD TOGETHER HONESTLY, THE CREATORS HAVE DONE SO WELL BC YOU CAN LITERALLY SEE HOW MUCH THEY LOVE EACH OTHER. I JUST LOVE THE WAY CHLOE HELD HER CLOSE & KEPT GOING BACK FOR MORE KISSES LIKE LOVE ME. THE LITTLE SMILE RACHEL HAD ON HER FACE AFTER. GUYS HOLD ME. MY OTP KISSED. FINALLY. <33333
        then there’s the amber household scene, which i loved bc chloe turned up to a ‘bad example, scumbag boyfriend meeting the parents’ type of situation. i literally related to chloe so much in this scene tho bc she comes from quite a poor household, not used to much glam & she’s being shown this completely different life, THEY HAVE PLATES. NICE PLATES. AND DIFFERENT TYPES OF GLASSES. they actually sit at the table like a normal family, like chloe used to.... but yeeee, THE CONCLUDING SCENE.          RACHEL’S FATHER IS A MASSIVE ASSHOLE. -.-  BUT I’M LOWKEY HAPPY BC HE CALLED CHLOE A DELINQUENT & I SCREAMED BC OF MY URL. c;  rachel losing her shit at her dad was cool tho, i’m happy someone called him out. alsoooo, what is it with rachel & her like extreme rage? it’s a lot scarier than when chloe gets angry?? that table smashing gave me chills tho. I’M ALSO DISAPPOINTED I DIDN’T FUCKING FIGURE OUT THAT THAT WOMAN WAS RACHEL’S REAL MOM. I’M SO DUMB.... 
        I ALSO GOTTA PRAISE THE FACT THEY USED SOOOO MUCH DAUGHTER IN THAT EPISODE. FFS MY FAVE BAND. IT’S ALL SO SO PERFECT TBH. although, i kinda feel like they’re missing out so much?? there’s only one episode left & we still don’t know a lot of shit. like when does jefferson arrive? when does rachel actually go missing? when does chloe dye her hair & get a tattoo?? who the fuck is this dealer guy?? what’s he got to do with anything? etc etc etc etc.         thanks for letting me bore you guys with my thoughts on the ep, if you even read up to this bit. :’) this is probs the longest thing i’ve ever written for any fandom. i just love this game so much...
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thisislizheather · 5 years
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July Jiffs 2019
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So technically the end of August is the appropriate time to start any and all Halloween/autumn talk (I think I made up that rule, but it feels right), so I’ll respect that and wait. Just know that I’m inwardly filling up with joy in anticipation of the best time of the year. Here’s what went down this month!
I made a list of some of my favourite summer vacation-y movies that I like to watch to pass the ungodly slow summer hours.
I read and reviewed the book Tiny Beautiful Things by Cheryl Strayed (the woman who wrote Wild).
We had a small party for July 4th and it was the best. Here’s what I made and loved: Panzanella Salad with Fresh Mozzarella (I used the How Sweet Eats recipe, but added mozzarella and omitted the corn and avocado - I also made the croutons the Ree Drummond way, because that’s the tastiest way), Spinach Bacon & Artichoke Stuffed Mushrooms (because they’re so delicious I want to scream), I used bell peppers as the bowls for holding the ranch for the vegetables, Slow Cooker Ribs, Eggplant Lasagna (I can’t remember the recipe I used, but it was pretty basic), Peanut Butter & Nutella Cheesecake Bars (this was the second time I’ve made these and it’s a perfect dessert to make a night or two before so that it can really set up), Blueberry Lemon Bread, and a charcuterie board (which is like assembling food art & I love it).
My favourite fruit/vegetable season is the end of summer mainly because of the fresh tomatoes and corn, so I can’t wait to try some of these corn dishes available in NYC right now. Although I don’t know how any of them are going to compete with the corn gnocchi at Park Avenue Summer. (I just looked and there’s also a sweet corn agnolotti with black summer truffles on the menu now too, so things just got interesting.)
Jenn sent me a link to this lovely poem Perhaps the World Ends Here by Joy Harjo that I just love.
I watched the AOC documentary Knock Down The House on Netflix and it’s so, so good. Cried at the ending.
I went on Nathan’s podcast to talk about dogs, cheating and movies.
I went for lunch at the cafe at Lilia in Brooklyn and it was ONLY AVERAGE. So that was disappointing. Maybe I ordered badly? I got the prosciutto, parmigiano butter, balsamic mustard sandwich - and even though it looks great (love whole grain mustard), it was really just too bready and not very flavourful.
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Above Photo: Prosciutto, parmigiano butter, balsamic mustard sandwich at Lilia Cafe, Brooklyn
I saw Midsommar (by the same guy who did Hereditary last year) and I really liked it. Some parts are just unnecessarily graphic (and the slow motion shots of this stuff are insane to watch), but the plot was great. Love an original movie.
Watched the entirety of Champions on Netflix and it really bums me out that it got cancelled, it was a really fun show.
Made this chocolate chunk coconut banana bread and it was goooooood.
I visited the new TWA Hotel at JFK and wrote about it over here.
So excited to hear that there will be three more seasons of Big Mouth!
I also rewatched Dante’s Peak (still a great movie) and Twister (again, it holds up). I think I was in a natural disaster kinda mood that week.
Do you remember experiencing or hearing about the ride Kongfrontation at Universal Studios in Florida? I’ve only ever heard of it, but it seems like it was probably the best ride that ever existed at that park. I hate how most ride these days are just 3D screens with no real interaction or animatronics, it’s bullshit.
Fucking obsessed with this strawberry lemonade kombucha that’s apparently only available at Trader Joe’s. I thought their gingerade was the best flavour, but now I have to reassess everything. (Also tried the “watermelon wonder” but it’s pure trash.)
Some songs that I can’t stop listening to: You Need To Calm Down by Taylor Swift, Blow Your Mind by Dua Lipa, Everybody by Elliphant feat. Azealia Banks, Boys by Lizzo, Let Me Go by Hailee Steinfeld & Alesso feat. Florida Georgia Line & watt, Doin’ Time by Lana Del Ray, We Were Young by Petit Biscuit feat. JP Cooper, Calma (Remix) by Pedro Capo & Farruko
Apparently I can’t get enough of Bill Hader.
I refuse to shut up about how great the (square bottle) nail polishes are at Urban Outfitters. They’ve been consistently great for years. I’ve been wearing their neon pink Hot Tub off and on for at least five years, and they keep putting out wicked new colours. There’s almost always a 3 for $10 deal and recently I got Coffee Creamer, Sun Bunny & Optic White and they’re BEAUTIFUL.
It’s currently Restaurant Week again (it’s on until August 16th), so of course I went back to The Dutch for their beautiful wagyu steak tartare. I also had the corn cappelletti with chanterelle mushrooms and marjoram that was heavenly.
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Above Photo: Wagyu steak tartare, The Dutch, NYC
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Above Photo: Corn cappelletti, The Dutch, NYC
I saw The Farewell and it’s everything I wanted it to be and more! Definitely go see it. It also reminded me of this beautiful song that I had to sing for a competition once years ago, Caro Mio Ben.
There’s a deal with ClassPass where you can use the service for free for two weeks, so I tried it and it’s not that great. It’s just too expensive to justify having it when I already have a monthly gym membership somewhere else. I did try an aqua cycling class through Aqua Studio during the free trial and it was… only okay. I mean, it’s fun and great to be in the salt water, but it wasn’t all that challenging as a workout.
I wasn’t planning on buying it, but I tried it, loved it, so had to buy it: Glossier’s Brow Flick. I’m still learning how to use it properly, but so far I’m really into it. It inspired this eyebrow products video that I posted last week.
I saw Toy Story 4 and I really hope this is the final one they make because the ending was so good. That’s all I’ll say. Quality series of movies, right here.
Some friends of mine recently opened up a small, late night food place called Foodstruck in Astoria and the food is really good. They’ve just opened, so they’re still figuring out their hours but I think they’re catering to the late night crowd, especially servers/bartenders who get off work late. Check out some of the food specials from this past week.
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Above Photo: Burger with gruyere, onion marmalade, sun dried tomatoes & a rosemary garlic butter on a potato bun
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Above Photo: Fried boneless chicken thighs with a garlic soy tamarind glaze
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Above Photo: Fried chicken sandwich with a spicy mayo, cheese sauce & pickles on a potato bun
My too-kind friend Irene got us a housewarming gift of a Diptyque candle (in eucalyptus) and somehow it’s still going after three months of daily use, which is incredible. Do not look up how expensive this candle is.
I watched To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before on Netflix and really liked it! Especially the hot tub scene. But let’s not get into it. I double-checked to make sure they’re both over 21 and they are, so all’s good.
Made this pappardelle pasta with mushroom ragu when Nathan was out of town (I like to get my mushroom recipes in when he’s gone) and it’s definitely going on my favourite-dinner-recipes list.
I ate at Misi in Brooklyn because I’ve wanted to go for ages and the pasta was solid as hell, I’d definitely go back. We had the charred peppers, marjoram, and whipped ricotta crostini, the corzetti with marinated sungold (peeled) tomatoes, garlic, pecorino & summer herbs (have you ever eaten a PEELED tomato? It almost feels wrong. The good kind of wrong), the strangozzi with pork sugo, nutmeg and parmigiana and for dessert we had the strawberries and cream gelato (it was a special that night) and the espresso gelato. Everything was so crazy good. The service was fantastic and the space is huge. Is it better than Lilia or L'Artusi (pasta-wise)? Ugh, that's such a hard question. It's really good. I'll have to revisit to get more intel to make a final decision on that.
I went to Coney Island with Irene and it was great, as it always should be.
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I visited the Profundo Day Club (mainly to get my ass in a pool) earlier this month, and I highly doubt that I’ll return. Mostly because even though the pool was nice (small, but nice) and refreshing, the blaring house music in the middle of the day was a little excessive. There’s also a disco ball above the pool itself. And a unicorn floatie that drifts around the water. And waitresses who shoot sparklers off when someone buys a bottle of liquor. It’s… not for me, let’s say. And the cheapest pass was $70 (tax included), which is waaaay too expensive for Queens. Let’s be real.
There’s a new season of Comedians In Cars Getting Coffee and the Martin Short episode is just lovely. It almost killed me when he was talking about when he bought his house and said, “We bought it in 1986” even though his wife passed away years ago. Am I being ridiculous in thinking that him using the word “we” is so sad and sweet and nice? Or maybe that’s a normal thing to say and I’d melt at anything to come out of his mouth. And while it was a good episode, I got so fucking sick of all the filler shots of coffee being brewed, coffee being poured into a cup, beans being tossed in a can, flowers sitting in vases - for fuck sake JUST TALK TO MARTIN SHORT AND SHOW ME THAT. Annoying as hell.
Nathan and I started watching season three of Stranger Things and… it’s not good? We saw all of the first season, which was pretty good. Attempted season two and never finished it because it became boring. And last week, we watched the first couple episodes of season three and I think we’ve silently agreed on just stopping it altogether. And look, I’m happy other people like it, but it’s just not for me. Demogorgons are too close to being dragons, maybe that’s why I can’t care about them?
I like to go to at least one baseball game each season, so I went to a Mets game last weekend and got this beauty that was the giveaway (below) since it was the 50th anniversary of the moon landing.
Honestly, this bobblehead makes me so happy for some reason. I love going to Citi Field especially ‘cause the food is always so good. We got the filet mignon steak sandwich from the aptly named Pat LaFrieda’s Original Filet Mignon Steak Sandwich, incredible fries from Box Frites, souvenir cups & drinks from Effen Vodka Bar, mozzarella sticks from Big Mozz, and chips & queso with ginger lime margaritas from Cantina.
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Above Photo: Pat LaFrieda’s filet mignon steak sandwich, Citi Field
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Above Photo: Fries with parmesan ranch and cheese sauce from Box Frites, Citi Field
Two new things that I’m going to start doing:
1. Buying less things off of Amazon. If there’s an alternative, independently run company that I can find the item at (and if the price isn’t wildly more expensive) then I’ll shop there instead. Every new thing I hear about Amazon makes me shudder, and I hate that it’s become my default place for me to buy anything.
2. If a store/restaurant is cashless (ie. credit cards only), then I’ll refuse to shop there. It’s insane that this isn’t illegal everywhere yet. I’m so sick of it and cash should be accepted everywhere, it’s nuts that I even need to say that. (I was excited to have lunch at Ole & Steen in Union Square for lunch the other day, but they’re “cashfree” so fuck them!)
Some things that I’m looking forward to doing this month: I’ve already sent in my email requesting tickets for Saturday Night Live (you can only request tickets during the entire month of August), I can’t wait to see Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark with Layla, there’s a tomato gelato that I want to try that sounds either awful or life-affirming, going on our anniversary trip at the end of the month, excited for a Canyon Creek caesar salad with Harmeet, planning on going to the CNE with my mom (haven’t done this in years), going to two weddings (!!) and I love weddings, being in a pool with Marla and a bunch of our kids, and taking advantage of a few more Restaurant Week specials. Excited for the last month of trash weather!
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noodlecupcakes · 7 years
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Hot for Teacher - Chapter 2
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Warnings: An awful chapter ahead (apologises), Language
Shout at me if you want to be added to the taglist
Chapter 2
Negan’s P.O.V
I entered class carrying a thermos of coffee, setting it on the desk and watching as the class began to fill. I spotted Roxy amongst the students and smiled to myself, she was fun to wind up especially when she made it so easy. I couldn’t deny she was hot. And there was no problem finding a student attractive so long as I didn't act on it, which I wouldn't. She would certainly look good in a cheerleader uniform though. Maybe with some pushes in the right direction she might try out for the team. Today her hair was tied back in a simple ponytail and she was dressed in blue jeans, a white shirt, black jacket and brown boots.
She took a seat in the centre this time although I had a feeling the more I annoyed her the further back she would start sitting. Roxy pulled out her books and waited for the class to start. Why the hell had I let myself be roped in to teach this bullshit? Like who the hell cares about poetry? Thank God I wasn't teaching the Shakespeare module, then these kids really would fail. So poetry, I was expected to stand up here and read out flowery words from authors like Sylvia Plath and E.E. Cummings, fuck that. They could read, it was English literature after all.
I handed out the books they would need and told them what poems they needed to read. Roxy looked at me with distaste before burying herself in one of the two books. I cleared my throat, getting the attention of the class. “I want you all to read these two books and pick out just one poem for the next class. I want you to read said poem and then why you picked it. Anyone pussies out they can leave the class,” I explained. I watched as faces fell all except Roxy’s, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips.
The hour went by quickly and the bell rang, signalling the end of class. Roxy lagged behind again, packing away her things slowly before putting her backpack over one shoulder and heading to the door. “Not going to congratulate me for actually setting out some work?” I asked. “Nope.” “Why not? I thought it was a good idea.” “It is a good assignment but you’re doing your job, don't get ahead of yourself.” She left through the open door and I packed away my things, heading to the staff room to grab some more coffee before my next class which thankfully was Track.
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Thankfully the next poetry lesson was three hours so we could get through everyone. I took a seat at my desk and scanned the class. “Any volunteers to go first?” I asked. The class remind silent, looking around to see if anyone was getting up or raising their hand. “Alright. We’ll go alphabetically then,” I pulled out the register and read out the name at the top of the page, “Paige Burton.” The girl got to her feet, looking rather annoyed but prepared herself, opening her book. She read the title and author of the poem before starting to read the poem itself. Once she finished she explained why she chose it.
We kept up this routine throughout the lesson, getting through each student. Finally, it came to Roxy’s turn. She got to her feet and cleared her throat. “Uhm I’ll be reading Lady Lazarus by Sylvia Plath,” she spoke before reading out the poem. “And why did you choose such a morbid poem?” I said a little sarcastically, which of course she picked up on. “Well I feel it was the one poem where the author was describing herself and her struggles with depression and attempted suicides. All her other works could have been based on her life experiences but they aren’t, I guess that’s why this one stood out for me.” “Alright then. Well you all passed your first assignment.”
There were a few sighs of relief but I was about to cut that short. “Roxy how far have you gotten with reading the book for our other class?” I asked. She seemed a little confused by this question, “Uhm around two hundred and fifty pages.” “Good. Next time we have a lesson about that I expect everyone to have read that much too.” There were a few eye rolls and collective groans. “I’m not having that shit guys. You have three days to catch up and you do have another book to read this semester, so fucking get to it. Anyone that isn’t that far in can forget coming to class. I only want people that are interested in the subject in my class.”
At that point the bell rang and the class shuffled out but yet again Roxy stayed. She seemed a little taken back by my new assignment. She wanted me to show some interest, here it was. “Did my words really hurt yesterday?” She smirked. “You’d have to do more than that to hurt me.” “So with the new assignment am I allowed to keep reading or do I have to wait for the others to catch up?” “You do what the fuck you want; I don’t give a shit. At least your making an effort.” “People are gonna start thinking I’m your favourite or something.” “Well you’re not.” “Good. Maybe you should catch up on the book yourself for next lesson. After all you have three days,” she spoke sarcastically, repeating my words back to me. Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn’t. Depends how much shit I had to deal with.
Taglist: @astrangegirlsmind, @mypapawinchester, @genevievedarcygranger, @warriorqueen1991, @jessie-cake1994-blog, @grungedaddykinks, @ladylorelitany, @negandarylsatisfaction, @mwesterfeld1985, @isayweallgetdrunk, @almostinwonderland, @jungle-feeveer, @negans-network, @slothdoll, @shadesofarrogance, @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash, @jml509, @glittered-unicorn-lava, @thewew, @prettyepiic, @eldritchmortician, @neganisking, @jmackie1983, @cranberrysymphony, @negans-girl, @ali-pennell, @thamberlina, @backseat-negan, @libby822, @d4delciousdean, @crowleyismysugardaddy, @harleysandbats, @ibelongtonegan, @kellyn1604, @badsongwinchester
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theliquidinklife · 7 years
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Five days of poetry
Day One (The Eighth of September- Pablo Neruda):
Instead of doing one of the questions, for now at least, I’d like to just talk about how I feel about the piece. Honestly this is the last day I writing about. I’ve started and stopped more times than I’d like to admit, erasing all the insincere words fumbling awkwardly from my mind through my tense fingers. It’s an absolutely beautiful poem, to that I will admit. The imagery is vivid and awe inspiring, but I am completely out of touch with it. I always feel slightly out of tune, out of step with it, no matter how many times I attempt to align myself. It took me a long while it try to figure this out. I blamed it on writer’s block, maybe a lack of sleep, but no it’s the poem and me. We just don’t fit. It’s blatantly obvious now that I’ve realized it. How could such an intensely passionate expression about joy and love really ever work with me? As a person that openly admits that I never really make none of my own work as my melancholy writes enough for the both of us, the feelings this piece gives off are the total opposite of what my brain is use to processing. It’s incredible really, how such a short poem has tired me so. That being said, I do have favourite part of the piece. “This day, the storm-driven ocean lifted us up in a kiss so exalted we trembled at the lightning flash and bound as one, fell, and drowned, without being unbound.” I picture this scene of two bodies, trapped in their individual waves, meeting as they crash into each other, suddenly bounded, and as the wave falls beneath them, the two bodies mold into the embrace of the other, becoming one, even as they are propelled into the deep ocean beneath them, drowning and not caring as they are with the other and the other is with them. It’s this interaction between the first two characters that demonstrates the profound love they have. No worries, no fears, just the two of them and nothing else. This is quite a literal way to visual it, but it is quite a pretty thing to think about nonetheless. I like the concept that while everything around them is stormy and treacherous, they are solid, they are sturdy, they are safe with the other. There is no other section of this piece that I feel an actual connection with quite a strongly. Yes, I along with others came to the conclusion that the end of this poem may indicate a child, but at that point, though the images still clear, they felt distant and so painfully far away, much too impersonal for me to fully grasp it. Maybe one day I’ll come back and revisit this piece, in a time nothing is expected of me and properly enjoy it, but that time has not yet come for me. 

Day Two (relentless as a tarantula- Charles Bukowski):
I’ve got conflicting opinions about this poem. To some extent I agree with it. The world is an incredibly harsh place that never seems to want anybody being happy. Something always has to go wrong. Perfection gets tarnished by loss and anger. It can feel as if the entire world is out to get you at when you’re at your best. Other people not as fortunate as you in that moment, looking to bring you down so as be at the same level as them. I see that, definitely meaning that this piece does have some measure of truth for me. On the other hand I would have to say that I feel as if instead of the real issue being that it’s me against the world, it feels more as if it’s me, well against me. As I stated previously other people will want to ruin your happiness, but nobody ruins my happiness like me. I could be sitting at front table in some cafe in Europe and instead of feeling at peace, or at the very least content, often I get distracted by my own anxieties. “As long as there are humans about there is never going to be any peace for any individual upon this earth or anywhere else they might escape to.” What if this line is insinuating that human existence itself is the root of individual problems? What then? What would be the solution? The only clear response to this would be the eliminate this human existence, and though that would consequently eliminate all individual issues, it doesn’t really solve any of them. Now I know, I know, this most probably not how he meant for this line to be interpreted. It meant to follow along with the rest of the poem of basically, other people suck, but it’s where my mind wandered when I read it. I like how writing can instigate different ways of thinking in people. “All you can do is maybe grab ten lucky minutes here or maybe an hour there.” Happiness is fleeting. Everything is fleeting. Moments, feelings, people, ourselves. Nothing stays forever though sometimes we wish it otherwise. Even if someone, somehow, claimed to have found a way to be happy forever, then they’re lying. Forever isn’t happy, forever is terrifying. Ok lets say we find a way to forever that isn’t quite so bad, then there’s still the truth that happy turns into boredom just as still water turns into poison. If we were all perfectly happy all the time, then we lose interesting bits of life, the bits people like Bukowski write about, and I don’t think I could ever be truly happy with that.
Day Three (Nothing But Death-Pablo Neruda):
When I first read this poem, I was thinking that death was described in three distinct, very different characters. I saw them as existing entirely separate as of each other, but after going over it several times, I discovered that in fact they were all entirely one being taking on different forms. Maybe I somewhat realized that in the beginning, but originally I thought it was just saying that death is all around us constantly, the end. It’s more complex than that I know now, and I’m glad for it. It’s funny to me actually, the poems seems almost nautical in nature. It’s speaks of drowning, ship wrecks, admirals and ports. The beginning of the piece does not seem to have Death as a character in it. It simply speaks of those that have succumb to it as their coffins float lIke little boats down a river. The first appearance of Death is, to me at least, the most terrifying. Death silently, physically coming to your door in the middle of the night is a horrible thought. Neruda describes how Death will knock at your door with nothing but a ring. You can hear it’s feet and it’s clothes, you can hear it shouting at you. In my mind’s eye there was warped glass door that stood between you and it, as if Death was standing just outside on your porch, it’s image only skewed by the contours of the glass. The next is the most neutral of the images of Death. It is at this point that I see that Death is not a negative entity in this piece. It is a broom cleaning the earth, but it only touches the dead. It is only removing the dead bodies so as to make space for the living, as one would move away clutter. The last view of Death is quite an honourable one. Just like the coffins previously, it describes the beds, most likely of those that have passed away in them, sailing once again. This time though there is a destination which is a port. Death is there as an admiral, as if to greet the deceased as his returning soldiers. It respects those that have passed, something I did not expect from it. This piece overall tells me that Death itself is not a bad being. It doesn’t actually cause the death of others, it simply is the caretaker of the event. An explanation that I have for the first, horrifying encounter with Death in the poem is that someone in the house is probably close to dying and it is there to collect them. I quite like how Death is portrayed in this poem. Though I did take me a couple reads to understand it, this version of death is not that evil. It is a being with a duty and it is serving it well.
Day Four (The History of One Tough Motherfucker- Charles Bukowski):
This poem fills me with so many questions. More questions than statements really. The first few being the obvious ones, like who in the world would de-tail a cat? It is such a cruel thing to do. A cat uses the tail for balance and such, so it angers me that someone would do such a thing. To me this worse than the cat being shot. Yes that’s also horrendous in its own right, but at least in that situation there is even the slightest bit of a chance that it was an accident. To cut the tail off is on the other hand is a entirely deliberate and difficult process. One would have actually put in effort into cutting the tail off a cat, so the fact that someone made the effort to do just that is disgusting. This is why I am very grateful that Bukowski treats the cat well, especially after his friend ran the cat over. It also seems that this is what the two bond over, the recovery after the accident. I wonder why he was chose to hold the cat during an interview, or how the interviewer felt when they discovered a poem had been written about it. The main question I have after reading this poem is what do they know as bullshit? Is it the relationship between them? I hope not as the cat has been through enough. Maybe it’s that the cat is his inspiration for his work. That cannot be entirely untrue as there is this poem at least directly influenced by the cat. It could be also referring to the interview. It’s saying that both he and the cat know that everything that he spews is meaningless garbage only meant to sooner shoo away the press. This reason seems the most likely to me. Also I went and looked up a photo of Bukowski holding the cat, which turned out to be a real cat. Did it really not have a tail, been shot and been run over? I don’t know, the picture doesn’t show that much. What I will say is that if you were to simply view this photo with no context at all, no knowledge of the person or the cat, it would just look like an older man holding a slightly irritated cat. In his defense though most cats are always slightly irritated. From the photo you wouldn’t be able to tell how much the cat has been through, and how much the man in the photo has been through it with the cat. This is an instance where while a picture is worth a thousand words, maybe they aren’t the right ones. Maybe the written word in this instance is worth so much more.
Day Five (Saddest Poem- Pablo Neruda)
This piece is clearly about a lost love, maybe even to the extent of “the one that got away.” Just as the other Neruda poems on the other days, it has wonderfully vivid imagery to it. Through this assignment I’ve discovered that I quite like Neruda’s work and will most probably read more of it now. Now I’m not sure if this is really the saddest poem of them all, but it must have been one of the saddest poems for him to write. The pain and the longing for this person must have cut him deeply. I quite like the bits that went, “I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. She loved me, sometimes I loved her.” This displays that they were probably together for a very long time, falling in and out of love with each over and over again. There was a uncertainty in their relationship, yet they still seemed to have cared for the other. She is associated with the night sky full of stars. It could either mean that they spent a lot of time together at night, looking at the stars, or that to him she is as grand and as beautiful as the night sky. Either way, to have a such a constant unavoidable reminder of her is most likely what makes this the saddest poem for him. “We, who we were, we are the same no longer.” People grow and change, him mentioning this means that in this is what he thinks ultimately drove them apart. They were not the same people that started out together when they began to fall apart. “Love is so short, and oblivion so long.” He feels as though the love they had to together was very short lived and his period of confusion lasted much too long. He feels lost as stated in, “my soul is lost without her.” She perhaps embodies then more than just herself. Though she is undeniably at the centre of this and she is very important to him, I think that he also associates her with the time they were together. The feeling of happiness, of normality, maybe even just the simple pleasure of looking up at night and not feeling regret. Maybe he misses her, maybe he misses that, but my probably misses both. “Although this may be the last pain she causes me, and this may be the last poem I write for her.” Neruda writes that he knows that this pain is going to end. Eventually the night sky will be neutral once more as the memories will be, though I don’t believe he can truly make the pain stop right he says it will. Along those lines, he says that this will be the last poem that he writes for her, but I doubt that. There will be a couple more, but slowly he will find that the inclination will not be so strong and it is then he will stop once and for all, but this is not that poem.
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finnivkodair · 7 years
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Things you discover when loving Even Bech Næsheim
~ He hums. A lot. You find it endearing most of the time, it grates on your nerves more often than you like to admit but it makes you smile when you need a reminder that he’s still here with you, living, breathing, yours. He does it with whatever he’s doing, subconsciously, most of the time. You point it out sometimes, with a laugh and a ‘you’re doing it again’, and he smiles back at you, eyebrows raised as if he thinks you’re lying to him. He apologises, but less than a minute later he’s doing it again. Soon you notice that it’s not just humming. He makes these strange noises with whatever he’s doing, a loud shout of surprise, or deep long sighs when he’s bored, lots of dums and dododododoos as he’s drawing. You ask him about it sometimes, and he just shrugs it off with an 'I’m a loud annoying person, deal with it’, until one time you ask again in the early hours of the morning as you watch him draw while you lie down in bed. He puts his pencil down and turns towards you, eyes not quite able to reach yours, 'I can’t handle the quiet, it just makes my head so much louder. And it- it scares me, because I start to think of things I can hear but I know that aren’t there, and it’s like a pressure in my head, saying that I need to make sure there’s never quiet so other people don’t feel awkward, or drift into their head as much as I do. It’s just, it’s like a tether you know? Keeping me outside of my mind.’ Only when he finishes does he ever look into your eyes, and there’s so much vulnerability and pleading of please understand me please understand me please understand me. You grab his hand and pull him towards you. Since loving Even Bech Næsheim you’ve started humming a whole lot more. 
~  The Internet can only tell you so much. You don’t want to reduce him to his illness but you don’t want to hurt him by being oblivious either. But there are seven billion people in this world, with seven billion different brains, and the Internet is a wonderful thing, but none of these articles are Even, and you just have to wait and learn. Sometimes his swings and episodes are catastrophic, there’s shouting and screaming and begging and seeing things that aren’t there, and then there’s deafening silence, numbness and tears that are being shed unknowingly to him because he’s stuck in a haze of not feeling quite here, but still feeling too much. But sometimes they’re small, only lasting a couple of days. And they don’t seem too bad- I mean yes he talks a mile a minute, and he’s passionate and confident and ready to try anything, but it’s exciting and fun, and almost unnoticeable- until he crashes and you realise that you missed it, and that sometimes his ups aren’t cliches and you might miss them, but the effect of the fall is always the same. You can’t find anywhere on the Internet where they tell you about that yet.
~  He’s scared. The world is uncertain, life is uncertain, but for him, everyday is uncertain too. He’s stuck in a cycle of waiting for his brain to let him down, and it’s tiring, and it’s not a way to live, so he tries to stop. But there’ll always be that voice in his head when you make plans weeks in advance of maybe I won’t be well enough, maybe I’ll ruin everything, maybe I won’t be able to stop it. Maybe it will make you leave me. And he’s scared when he’s manic, or hypomanic, in the lead up where he still knows who he is. Because they don’t tell you this online either, or in the pamphlets, because most of the time people are too ashamed to admit it- but sometimes there’s nothing he’d rather be than manic. He’s creative, he’s happy, he can do whatever he wants, everything he’s been meaning to do gets done, life is brighter, it all makes sense- the world is brimming with possibility. But again there’s that voice, saying what if it goes further? What if you lose control? And another, louder voice going who cares who cares who cares? The longer this lasts the further away the crash is. And it’s terrifying knowing that as soon as it ends, the world is going to get so dark so quickly, and his life will halt for days, weeks even, and there’s nothing he can do about it. He’s scared. He needs you. You just being with him, not judging him and trying to understand is enough for him. Don’t be scared for him, he has enough fear of his own, be his brightness and his clarity and his knowledge that he is so much more than this and his life is a wonderful, beautiful thing that he should never feel ashamed of. 
~  He has a fear of birds. It makes you laugh for days when you find out, Even Bech Næsheim, walking Disney princess and lover of everything, is scared of birds. You find out one summer’s day when you leave the window open in Kollektivet and you walk out into the living room to find a pigeon staring you down. You notice that Even’s tensed up behind you but you don’t think much of it until the bird moves and he lets out a sound you’d never even dream would be possible of coming out of his mouth and it stops you in your tracks as you turn towards Even, a look on your face of judgement and disbelief. He doesn’t see it though because his hands are covering his eyes and he, Even Bech Næsheim, king of cool and suave, is cowering over a bird. It’s your favourite discovery about him so far, and one you use to your advantage more times than a loving boyfriend probably should. 
~  He is more intelligent than he’ll ever realise, and he needs you to remind him of how truly brilliant his brain is. He is the most creative person you’ve ever met, winding stories and art out of ordinary things people like you wouldn’t even notice. He’s so talented that you almost find it unfair, he writes, he draws, he acts, he films and directs- he’s a creator and you’re in awe of him. It’s important you tell him that, because he’s more insecure than you realise at first. Each drawing he shows you, is a glimpse into his sight, each poem is a segment of his mind, each performance is a wonder of who else he could be- each creation is a vulnerability that he’s showing to you, asking is it okay, is how he is is okay, is his mind okay? And it is. It’s brilliant and unbelievable, his creations bring light to your life, but not as much as his smile does when you tell him what you think of them. 
~  He has strange habits that sometimes become rituals. You don’t completely understand them yet, but they’re just things he does. Like tapping a certain rhythm on a certain door frame every time he goes underneath it, or rinsing his water bottle out three times every time he cleans it, or if someone touches his arm, he has to tap the other one so it’s symmetrical. He doesn’t even realise he’s doing it most of the time, he just does it. But sometimes when he isn’t quite sure what his brain is doing, they become rituals that have to be done and he becomes obsessed. He has to have his food on different plates, and he has to rearrange his bookshelf so the books are alphabetical, or colour coded or sorted into genre, depending how he’s feeling. The dishes have to be done a certain way and every surface has to be tapped. You worry that it means he’s becoming manic, sometimes it does, but more often than not it’s just one of those days and its one of those things that makes him Even. There’s not much to be said or done about it, you just indulge it for a day (he doesn’t want to be a burden and he doesn’t want you to do anything for him, just don’t comment or make him feel like he’s silly) and that tends to be all that he needs.
~  Family is everything to him. He grew up surrounded by love, and at first you find it difficult, but he knows this and he would never want to make you feel bad, so he won’t nag you about joining his family for dinner, or to attend family events or to spend more time at his house. But you discover having you under his roof is his favourite thing, having everyone he loves in the same place creating a hub of safety and laughter is all he wants in the world, and soon you realise, you love it too. You love the bustle of activity, the delighted squeals of his sisters as he comes through the door, the smell of food being cooked. It’s like some American film that you always thought was bullshit, but here he was belonging to this family, and it’s real and he wants you to be a part of it. 
~ He is the most affectionate drunk you’ve ever met. You’d never tell him because he shouldn’t drink too much, but Drunk Even is your favourite thing. He’s even more vibrant and energetic even though you never thought it was possible, but your favourite part is the compliments. And not because you’re egotistical, but because of the insight into his head that they give you, he calls you words like brilliant and incredible and words with so much weight. He compliments your smile, but also your compassion and laughter and all the things you’re insecure about, and you love it because it’s so Even, he sees the things that no one else does and he is so kind, and you have no idea what you did to deserve him. He whispers his love into your ears but also his secrets and promises that are laced in adoration, he confesses the life he wants with you, he wants to live in a house that feels lived in, that feels safe and like a home, he wants five children- three girls and two boys- he wants to bake with them, play cops and robbers with them, take them on adventures with your dog, that the family collectively decided to call Romeo because of course, your children will have taste and Romeo + Juliet will be a family favourite. He wants a family and love and a life with you. You have that confession on repeat and it’s your favourite sound in the world.
~  No matter how much his rage scares you, it scares him more. This is the part of his illness that the Internet shies away from, but so does Even because it’s the part of himself that he hates the most. See when you read stories and articles they paint images of mania where people run through the streets naked, believe the government’s filming them, buy extravagant things and do things without thinking of the consequence. Which is true. But what they don’t tell you about is the fear, the paranoia, the anger. Because sometimes that’s all mania is, there’s no passionate desires to create art or sing, sometimes the confidence turns into arrogance and entitlement, and it’s ugly and fierce. It’s thinking that he deserves things, that he’s so much better than the people he’s surrounded by that just simply don’t understand him, it’s a yes I am handsome, a yes I am clever and talented, you don’t need to tell me, I already know. It’s his speech becoming more passionate, but not in the way you’re prepared for, it’s not thinking of the world’s brilliance and brimming with creativity, it’s swearing and angry rambling and who the fuck do they think they are?’s and I don’t care what they think, I know I’m amazing.’s It’s becoming fixated and obsessed with an idea and the blind rage that follows when things don’t work out in the straightforward way his brain tells him it should. When he’s like this he wants everything to be loud, he wants his music to be loud, his movement to be loud, he wants to be loud, he wants you to be loud. And you haven’t worked out yet what’s better for him, whether you should walk away and let him stew in his own anger in the hopes that he’ll calm down, or whether you should shout back, let him scream with everything he has and tire himself out. It’s hard, because if you leave it doesn’t get rid of his anger, you’ll return to broken furniture, maybe a hole that’s been punched in the wall, or in the worst cases, to his skin being opened because he needs to focus on something and the repetitive action of scratching calms his mind, and the pain feels good. And it kills you to see him hurt. But then if you stay, he shouts and he screams and he takes pleasure in focusing on your weaknesses and causing you pain, he knows where to hit you where it hurts and how to get a reaction. He wants a fight, that’s all he wants. He feels like his brain is exploding and he just needs noise, he’s in so much pain and he wants it to stop but he can’t shout at his own brain, but he can shout at you. And you would take this option every time, rather you get hurt than him, but after this, remember, comes the crash. And he’ll remember what he said to you and it will kill him, more than any scratches on his arm ever will. He already feels like he doesn’t deserve you, but after what he says he’ll be inconsolable, refusing to take your reassurances, he’ll feel like he isn’t worthy of anything. After this is the closest you’ve ever got to losing him. Because he feels lost, his rage is the worst part, it’s when he completely loses himself, he doesn’t recognise who he is and he hates it, it disgusts him how can say things he never means- except in that moment he does mean them and it terrifies him. He’s the most genuine person you’ve ever met, he’s kind, he loves being the cause of people’s happiness, he loves compliments and smiles and loyalty- none of that is fake, this anger isn’t his real feelings boiling over, it’s- well that’s the thing, he doesn’t know and you don’t know, it’s just something that happens and you need to work it out together.
~  It hurts. That’s something you can’t find online either and can’t work out yourself. Sometimes Even can’t work out what’s going on, whether he’s going up or down, he just knows he doesn’t feel right. Sometimes he feels the mixture of the two and it hurts. He describes it like a pressure, as if there’s someone inside his brain kicking and screaming, it feels like his head is pulsing and expanding and it’s going to explode. And he doesn’t know what to do with himself, he wants to scream and cry and punch something and close his eyes and never open them again. You’ve discovered that he loves it when you play with his hair, and stroke his scalp and show him love. When he feels like his head is on fire, you know now that it calms him when you caress his head and kiss his temple, not too much that you overwhelm him, just enough to get him out of his head and distract him until the pain passes. And it will, it always does. 
~  He loves you with everything he has. This is something that takes you the longest to discover and start to believe, not because he held back but because you couldn’t understand how someone like him could love someone like you. But you understand now. He’s not perfect, you know his insecurities and fears and faults, and you don’t love him despite them, you love him including every last part that makes him him. You wish he didn’t have to be in pain, that his life wasn’t so hard, that he didn’t get overtaken with a rage where he doesn’t know who he is, you don’t romanticise his faults, but you don’t ignore them either, he does deal with these things, but it’s okay because you always make it through and it’s always temporary and he’s soso worth it. It can be difficult, but then every relationship is, maybe your issues aren’t as common as other couples, but then again you’ve discovered that you and Even have never been a conventional couple. You’re epic, you’re incomparable, you’re eternal. And that is the most important discovery of all- that you’re in love. You’re in love you’re in love you’re in love.
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crowsent · 5 years
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On Creativity
I’ve always liked writing. And since I’m working on bolstering my confidence, I’ll go ahead and say that I’m good at writing. I can use unique voices, switch perspectives, write decent fight scenes. By all means, I can write well.
But writing’s also a hobby. I don’t write because I have to. It ain’t an obligation. I’m allowed to enjoy what I do. I’m allowed to use words to escape this world and live in a different one, even for just a few precious moments. Forget Earth and forget me; I can be a Quirkless boy struggling with his identity, I can be a young woman struggling to master her Semblance, I can be a half-ghoul juggling my own concept of morality with a world that tells me that my existence is apprehensible.
I can be allowed to break away from the identity of LOSAS and be someone different.
Writing is fun for me. I enjoy it, I enjoy seeing ink on the page or words on the screen. I enjoy spinning out a thread and watching a tapestry come to life. And after years of doing it, that tapestry is pretty damn good. It’s got colours, clean lines, and a compelling vibrancy that makes others look.
But I’m not the only person who enjoys writing.
Someone might write and write and never be satisfied with what they create. John Doe can build a planet of ash and cinders and tear it all down because it’s grey and flat. Jane Doe can paint a human being and kill it in a single sentence because of a flaw that threw the whole story out of rationality.
Alex might spin a thread and create a tapestry of their own. But there is no life, no colour, and muddled stitches that obscure where the line ends and another begins.
And all these people should still be allowed to create.
Just because I’m good at writing doesn’t mean that I should be the only one allowed to write. It doesn’t mean that other good writers should only be the ones allowed to write.
We don’t have one giant inkwell and pen and pass it around like the olympic torch.
We SHOULDN’T have one giant inkwell and pen and pass it around like the olympic torch.
People should be encouraged to write. Everyone should write at LEAST one story just for kicks, shits, and giggles. Who cares if your story is about a majestic unicorn who discovered the meaning of friendship because of an overly persistent frog that sang off-key to them for three whole pages? Make your story about a soldier who had his entire family murdered and is out for revenge. Make it about your OTP making cookies at ass-o’clock in the morning.
WRITE.
For one, it encourages creativity and creativity, I think, is one of the most beautiful things about human beings. Sure, as a species we collectively fucked over the Earth, drove some species of animals and plants into extinction, and created a system that fucked up the economy and squandered the morality and softness of our people.
But we also created organizations to try and rectify these problems we created: wildlife preservation efforts, shelters, food drives. We break and we make our mistakes (HA) but we also try so so very hard to fix them and learn, and move forward.
Creativity, I think, is more than just building a planet of ash and cinders or creating your own human conjured from the depths of your mind. It’s self-expression, an outlet for you to express feelings that you normally wouldn’t be able to put into words.
For me, words are how I express my feelings. If I tried talking to an actual human being face to face, I’d accidentally bite my tongue and die over the pronunciation of the word “pronunciation”. But when I write, it’s easier. When I write, I can look at everything that’s wrong with our planet from an objective standpoint and simultaneously remind myself that it’s not the end.
I am much better with written words because it gives me time to think and revise. I can’t do that in real life. I can’t pause a conversation and proofread the absolute bullshit I am about to spew from my mouth.
But some people are much more comfortable with speaking. Where I express myself with flowery words and purple prose dense and loquacious to the point of idiocy, some people like to use their words, hear themselves speak to others and see the faces of everyone who listens to them.
There was a man I knew who we shall call ‘Vaughn’. Now, Vaughn wrote, not as much, not as confidently, but he wrote. He was always hesitant when sharing his writing. So was I, but that was a product of my social anxiety and not my lack of confidence in my work.
Vaughn did not have this social anxiety. He saw his work, his prose, and genuinely believed that it did not compare to others. Never said it aloud, but when he read prose, his feet fidgeted, he held the paper (or computer) in front of him to hide his face, and he spoke faster and faster, as if trying to get the words out so he wouldn’t have to speak. And when he finished, he’d sigh, nod and smile at the reception, and hurriedly urge all of us to go next.
That’s only for prose though.
Near the end of the year, he gave us all this big performance; slam poetry.
And let me tell you, I was fucking enthralled.
If I heard his poems on a street, his delivery, the way his voice shifted with every word and how he moved almost like I dance, I would fucking listen to every word. Even if I was late to work, or even if my arms were laden with groceries, I would fucking stand on that street and listen with my jaw on the floor.
Pretty sure I didn’t breathe during his performance. It was amazing. And he had a lot of fun. His leg wasn’t fidgeting, he didn’t cover his face. He owned it.
It’s obvious he has a passion for writing and performing, and speaking until his voice was hoarse.
And he was a damn creative man.
A creative man who, for some reason, felt like his prose wasn’t as good as his slam poetry. Which, okay, I’ll admit, I enjoyed the poetry better, but it didn’t mean that his prose was bad. It was just rough around the edges, like mine, like everyone in that class.
So I thought, why the fuck would a man this dedicated to his craft, this passionate about reciting a poem that grabbed my fucking soul and booked it, this excited to share with us his creation, feel as though his prose wasn’t good enough.
With his poem, he was very open to criticisms and praise alike. But with his prose, he seemed resigned and withdrawn, like criticism was the only option. Of course, I was curious and my social anxiety got strangled by my curiosity and it was silenced with a garotte because I just HAD TO KNOW.
When I asked if he would be doing anymore writing after that year, without that specific class pushing us to write everyday, he said, with the certainty and confidence of a man who had a noose around his neck: “Yeah, but I probably won’t write prose anymore.”
And his reasoning. The reasoning. “I’m not good at it.”
Okay. Fair enough. Some people don’t enjoy writing prose and prefer other forms of creative self-expression. Maybe he just prefers slam. Maybe he wasn’t that into prose.
But I heard this man, this beautiful, brilliant, creative man, go into a spiel about his work. How he planned to write it, the dark twists he’ll take. His one goal in prose was to make his writing creepy and edgy. And he was so fucking excited about it. Big smile, bright eyes, the excited hand movements that almost took out my glasses in a one hit knockout.
I refuse to believe that a man this excited to talk about his work wasn’t interested in writing.
That got me thinking: why in the fuck would he stop doing something he clearly enjoyed doing?
The question eventually shifted to this.
Why do people stop creative pursuits?
Why do people stop writing angsty poems and edgy creepypastas?
Why do people stop making up silly songs in the shower?
Why do people stop painting their rainbow sparkly OCs?
Why do people stop OC/Canon shipping?
Why do people stop cosplay?
Why do people stifle their creativity?
This of course, ties back to the first paragraph I’ve written. I enjoy writing. I’m good at writing.
John and Jane and Alex enjoy writing. They don’t live up to the standard others have for “good” writing.
I am encouraged to keep updating that fanfic I have.
They are encouraged to stop. Find something they can do better. Move on.
Why does my writing, considered good by other people, give me a pass to keep writing while others who don’t meet that standard are encouraged to stop?
It makes absolutely no sense. A crab doing the macarena makes more sense than that. A cheetah that’s slower than a snail crawling through molasses makes more sense than that.
Why should we stop people from creating? From exploring their minds and expanding on their interests?
Why is it, that when it comes to writing, or drawing, or sewing, or literally any creative pursuit, we only endorse it when the person is “good?”
If creativity is about self-expression, then the quality shouldn’t matter. I should be allowed to write even if the first word I ever put to page is “Y’all’d’ve.” If I want to make my fanfic about my OC being swept off her feet by a hunky, glittery vampire, then by all fucking means, I should be allowed to write.
No one should be telling me to stop writing.
Creativity is a part of us, something intrinsic and unique and just as integral to our development as a person. It doesn’t have to be writing either.
Someone singing terribly off-key to their favourite song at a karaoke bar should be allowed to sing off-key to their favourite song.
Someone who makes cat-shaped cookies and had the batch come out like a monstrosity from hell should still make cat-shaped cookies if they want to.
Someone who writes with shifting tenses, has no concept of verb choice, and utterly butchers canonical characterizations should still be allowed to write.
As someone who does write fanfiction (plus other things) and publish them, feedback is important to me. Without it, I can’t grow as a writer, and I enjoy talking to all the people who take the time to comment on my latest work.
But I am not obligated to keep up the quality or coherency or consistency of my fics.
If, at some point, I decided to take the plot in a direction way the fuck out of left field, I can do that. I owe no one an apology. I wrote the fanfic, I choose to do what I want with it.
It’s terribly unfair for people to commandeer what I can and can’t do with my writing just as it’s unfair for people to commandeer what people can and can’t do with their creativity.
Let’s take singing.
I enjoy singing. I like to sing. I enjoy taking popular songs and butchering it to hell and back.
I am not a good singer.
I can’t hit high notes.
I can’t hold notes.
I have next to no control over my voice.
But I love to sing. And I should be allowed to sing. Just like how John and Jane and Alex should be allowed to write.
We look at Creativity not as something to do for fun, but as something to do for productivity. Why bother creating your own alien planet if it’s full of inconsistencies? Fuck all your feelings and the happy endorphins releasing in your head, this planet’s not good enough.
Fuck that OC you just wrote out the whole backstory for, it’s too damn edgy and not written with enough nuance.
Yeah fuck you.
At no point in time should you ever attempt to police a person’s creativity. It’s something that’s for THEM to explore. To discover. To enjoy.
Think of all your favourite shows, your favourite music, your favourite plays. All of that happened because of creativity and hard work. You see critically acclaimed novels with the accolades and praises. You don’t see the first draft with the dozens of lines rewritten in red ink. You don’t see the first drafts with entire pages crossed out.
People don’t churn out masterpieces in a day.
And even if they did, that should not be the standard. There shouldn’t be any standard to creativity.
If you want to try out knitting for the first time and end up with a mess, then congratulations! you tried out knitting for the first time. If you enjoyed it, then go make yourself another knitted item. Clothing. I don’t knit so I wouldn’t know.
People should stop assigning value to their creative pursuits. Sure, it’s fun when people give your compliments, but it’s also fun to let loose and just enjoy yourself.
I just talk about writing a lot, because it’s what I’ve done for years and something I can do confidently. I’m not perfect, there’s still some bumps, but if you ask me if I can write better than I can draw, I will nod my head so damn fast it’s going to roll of my shoulders.
That said, I should still be absolutely allowed to draw even though it’s been 84 YEARS AND I STILL DON’T KNOW HOW TO DRAW A HAND
Creativity is something that we should embrace. Even if what we create doesn’t turn out ‘good’ or if we’re not happy with it, we should still create and create and create.
It’s a good stress relief. It opens up our minds to new worlds, new possibilities, new passions, new hobbies. It can be used to talk to people. It can be used to improve yourself as a person. It can be fucking used for unorthodox solutions to some of your problems. Thinking outside the box.
And even though I can not, for the life of me, hit a single god damn note in Hamilton’s ‘Satisfied’, I will still sing the fuck out of it when it comes on in my playlists.
And even though Vaughn’s prose didn’t flow as well as his slam poetry, he should still continue to write if he enjoyed it.
It’s not about being good at it. It’s about having fun while you do it.
TL;DR: Let people be creative
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