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dothwrites · 4 years

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worried Dean @ Cas: “I’m not bothering you, am I?”

---

It’s a widely accepted tenet in the art department that Castiel Novak is a genius.

Dean first hears rumors of Novak’s skills when he’s a freshman. He doesn’t believe them at first. He suspects they’re overblown by groupies who are too interested in trying to get into Novak’s pants (not that Dean can blame them: with his shock of dark hair, ice-blue eyes, and delicate scrollwork of tattoos spiraling up his arms to disappear under the sleeves of his very tight t-shirts, Novak is a walking wet dream). Then, at the end of his freshman year, he’s busy setting up the annual art show when a piece catches his attention.

At first glance, the painting is deceptively simple. A shadowed figure stands in the center of the canvas, his arms raised up to the sky. Around him are swirls of red, black, and gold, somehow blending into one color in the background. The more Dean looks, the more ambiguity he finds in the painting. Are the swirls of gold lifting the figure up or restraining him? Is the figure fading into the black or breaking free? Is the red coming from him or is he drawing it in? Are his hands raised in supplication or defiance?

Dean loses track of how many minutes he spends staring at the painting, admiring the shading, the color, the symbolism. Transfixed, he reaches out to touch at the rough surface of the painting before he recalls himself and snaps his hand back to his side.

“You can touch it if you want.”

Dean whirls around at the deep voice, his eyes widening when he sees Castiel Novak standing behind him, hands tucked deep into his pockets. Castiel raises a pierced eyebrow at him.

“Seriously. Go ahead.”

Dean shakes his head, aware of Castiel’s reputation. “I can’t...we’re not allowed to disturb the artwork--”

Castiel’s mouth twists and Dean doesn’t know whether he’s angry or deprecatory. “Well, I’m the artist, and I say you can.”

Castiel’s eyes rest heavily on him. Dean swallows, his heart picking up a rhythm that seems attached to the flick of Castiel’s tongue over his lower lip. Hand shaking, he reaches out to brush his fingers over the textured canvas.

“It’s rough,” Castiel says from right behind him (when the hell did he get that close?), “because becoming is always rough.”

And that’s how Dean Winchester decided Castiel Novak was a genius.

---

As school and life continues, Dean admires Castiel Novak from afar.

From what he can tell, Castiel doesn’t have many friends. He has admirers, which he ignores, and he has a few people who hang onto his fame, which he disdains, but actual friends? The only thing keeping Dean from volunteering is the thought that Castiel will turn the same withering look on him.

Castiel haunts the art building and, as Dean continues delving into the Art program at Carver Edlund University, he does the same. Sometimes he’ll pass Castiel on his way to his studio. Castiel always nods at him, but it’s a companionable gesture, the same that you might give to someone at the grocery store. He never stops to chat, doesn’t even remove his earbuds.

And that’s fine. So Dean’s harboring a crush that’s as much intellectual as it is physical. Plenty of people have crushes. It’s fine. It’s not like he’s obsessed. Not like he lurks around just so he can leave at the same time Castiel does. Not like he skulks through the dark halls so he can get a look at Castiel’s new project. That would make him creepy and pathetic, and those are two adjectives which certainly don’t describe Dean Winchester.

After a while, denial doesn’t even taste bad, just a little bitter.

By the end of his sophomore year, Dean’s accustomed to the status quo. He notices the light in the private studio allotted to Castiel (all senior Art majors get their own studios, but Castiel got the nicest of them), but he doesn’t stop on his way to his own (shared) studio. When he arrives, however, he screeches to a halt.

His studio is filled to the brim with snotty freshmen. His personal workplace has been completely commandeered by a freshman with a (barf) man bun. “What the hell?” Dean sputters. He can feel his face turning red with rage. “This is my time.”

Man-Bun pops his gum as he looks at Dean. His eyes are so hazy Dean’s surprised that he’s not deep-throating a bong at that very moment. “Um, guess again? We totally booked the studio for tonight?”

Seething, Dean storms to the schedule and checks. Sure enough, there’s a long list of names on the door for the studio space. “I always have Thursday,” he protests, but it’s an empty sort of rage. “I’m always here for Thursdays.”

Man-Bun shrugs, turning back to his psychedelic smattering of colors. “Not this Thursday, dude.”

Dismissed, Dean gathers his remaining dignity, and leaves. Standing out in the hallway, he reviews his options. He’s kicked out of his regular studio, and he needs to work tonight, otherwise he’ll never get his final project for figure drawing done. Every studio he passes is booked to capacity; clearly the art program is full of procrastinators. In fact, the only studio that has any sort of room...

“No. No. Shit.” Dean weighs the consequences of failing his class versus metaphorically throwing himself into a volcano. Finally, his fear of failure takes over, and he knocks on the door of his last remaining option.

The door swings open, revealing a Castiel who looks significantly more disheveled than normal (though normal Castiel usually looks like he was rode hard and put away wet). A smear of blue paint decorates one cheek while his earbuds dangle from his neck. Dean tries to ignore the spirals of Castiel’s tattoos, especially where they disappear under his shirt (he especially tries to ignore the thoughts of what those tattoos look like underneath Castiel’s shirt). Castiel blinks in surprise.

“Dean. What are you doing here?”

(The fact that Castiel knows Dean’s name comes as a shock. Dean assumed that he was one of the thousands of nameless faces Castiel passes every day.)

“Um, first let me say, it’s totally awesome if you say no, I don’t expect you to say yes, it’s a huge imposition--”

“Dean, you’re rambling.”

“Can i use your studio? Or share it? I wouldn’t ask, but a bunch of douchebags took mine and there are no other spaces open, and I really need to finish this project--”

“Sure. Come on.”

And with that, Castiel steps back and beckons Dean into his studio.

Dean crosses the threshold with something resembling awe. He never imagined, in his wildest dreams, that he would be allowed into Castiel’s inner sanctum. He tries not to gape too obviously as his eyes dart from corner to corner of the room. It looks...like a studio for the most part. Several canvases are hung around the room; if they’re discarded attempts or inspiration, Dean doesn’t know. They could easily function as either. Castiel finally steps in front of him, directing Dean’s attention to one corner of the room.

“Would there be good?”

Dean nods. “Yeah, that’s good.” He pauses, eyes darting nervously around the studio. “I’m not bothering you, am I?”

Castiel frowns, like the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. “No, of course not. If you were, I wouldn’t have opened up the door.” With that, he seems to consider the topic of conversation closed, and retreats back a few steps.

He sets up his work and tries to ignore the fact that Castiel Novak is watching him. It’s almost impossible not to feel his eyes; the skin on the back of Dean’s neck prickles in awareness, but he perseveres.

He sets his sketch on the easel before casting a critical eye upon it. He frowns as he notices every imperfection. it’s based off a series of sketches he jotted down in class earlier that day. Dean remembers the careless grace of the model, the way that the fabric had draped artlessly over his waist and shoulders, but he can’t recapture the specific atmosphere of the room, which was what made that particular model striking. Every time he tries to put onto the paper how the room felt, his figures end up wooden and two-dimensional.

“You’re paying too much attention to the form.”

Dean jumps, his charcoal pencil scrawling an ungainly line across the page. Not a huge loss, he was already going to toss this one anyway. He turns around to find Castiel standing directly behind him.

Castiel nods towards his sketchpad. “In your drawings. You’re paying too much attention to the form. That’s why it’s coming out wrong.”

“The form is all there is,” Dean replies, a little peevishly. He knows the sketch sucks, but that doesn’t mean he wants Castiel freaking Novak pointing it out to him.

“The form is one part. But you have the lighting and shading and you have the intention. The intention is...the feel of the room. It’s what remains unsaid and unseen to those who weren’t there. It’s what you’re trying to capture by paying so much attention to the form. Of course, by concentrating too much on the technical, you lose the abstract.”

Castiel flicks over to a new page with a deft flick of his wrist. He plucks the pencil from Dean’s grasp with one hand. With the other, he poses Dean’s hand close to his face. Castiel stares at Dean for a few excruciating seconds before he turns his attention to the empty page.

Dean hardly dares to breathe as Castiel sketches. He’s not sure how he’s going to return to real life, knowing now the tiny crease that knits between Castiel’s brows or how the tip of Castiel’s tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth. How is he supposed to live, knowing Castiel hums tunelessly as his hand works?

“There.” Castiel flips the sketch to face Dean. In it, Dean finds his own face, rendered in a few lines. It’s rough, certainly, but it’s a close enough likeness. More than that, Castiel’s managed to capture...

“Do I look that scared?” Dean blurts out, before he can stop himself.

Castiel actually laughs, deep and rumbling, from the diaphragm. It’s a lovely sound, one that fills the studio, and one Dean would gladly hear again and again. “You don’t look scared.” He sets the pencil down on the easel and turns fully to face Dean. “Anxious maybe. Hovering on the edge of anticipation.” He steps closer. His chest almost brushes Dean’s, which could be misinterpreted as Castiel not understanding the concept of personal space.

What can’t be misinterpreted is the unsubtle drop of Castiel’s eyes to Dean’s lips.

“I guess now would be a good time to tell you that I’ve really wanted to kiss you for almost a year,” Castiel says, his voice scraped rough around the edges. His eyes drag up to Dean’s, and Dean’s taken aback at the wild glint in them. Castiel steps closer and his clever fingers slip into the spaces between Dean’s fingers. “Please Dean,” Castiel breathes, raw and needy, “please, can I kiss you?”

“Fuck yes,” Dean murmurs, which is all he gets to say before Castiel’s hand cups the back of his head and his lips descend upon Dean’s.

Not that Dean’s bragging, but he’s had quite a few good kisses in his life (and been told that he gives quite a few good kisses). Castiel blows them all out of the water. Dean’s never been kissed so thoroughly before, like Castiel wants to own him, like Castiel’s interested in finding exactly what makes Dean tick. His teeth nip at the swell of Dean’s lower lip while his tongue delicately traces the seam of Dean’s lips. Dean eagerly opens his mouth, moaning into Castiel’s mouth as Castiel’s tongue slips in along his.

Hours or days later, when they part, Dean realizes that while one of his hands is cupping the spur of Castiel’s hip (holy fuck, those hips feel like handles for his hands), his other hand is still holding Castiel’s. It’s certainly the sweetest kiss that’s ever given him a boner.

Castiel laughs, a little breathless. It’s only then Dean realizes he’s a little taller than Castiel. “You do live up to expectations,” he murmurs, and Dean’s not sure whether Castiel’s talking to himself or not.

The words spark a recent memory in Dean, and suddenly nothing is more important than finding out the truth. “You said you wanted to do that for a year?” Castiel nods, his eyes suddenly shifting to the side. “Why?”

“Everyone always goes on about my art. How groundbreaking it is, how I’m a ‘once in a generation talent’.” Castiel uses finger-quotes, which should not be as endearing as Dean finds it. “And it’s nice, but none of them even bother to see my art for what it is. They just see my name attached to it and they lose their shit. But last year...You saw that painting. It didn’t matter to you who made it. You saw it and appreciated it for what it was. And I...I saw you.”

Castiel swallows. For all his suave confidence earlier, he looks oddly vulnerable now. “So, anyway. Yeah. For a year now. Um...” He glances at Dean’s easel. “I guess I’ll leave you alone now. Or if you want privacy, I can go.”

“Or,” Dean says, the pink flush on Castiel’s cheeks giving him all the bravery he’ll ever need. “You could stay.” Castiel’s eyes slice to him, their blue intense and jaw-dropping. Dean grins, a little predatory, like they’re on even ground.

“After all, I’m going to need a model for this sketch.”

#destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fic #dean winchester #castiel #college au #art school au #artist!cas #artist!dean #nervous!dean #meet cute #dothwrites

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djlemonsqueeze · 3 years

Text

Thoughts of a Stressed Out College Student

“I’ll just read tomorrow. I have time before class, and it’s not that long of a story.”

“Why don’t you just do it now? You have time.”

“Because I don’t want to?”

“Don’t you have a bunch of stuff to do though?”

“Well, I have a paper due Wednesday, but I haven’t thought up a good thesis yet, so I need to wait on that. The story for tomorrow is only 13 pages. It’s not bad. Don’t you have homework to do too?”

“Dude. I don’t do my stuff here because I spend 3 hours doing it in class, and I don’t want to spend more time doing it here. You’re procrastinating.”

I just spend a whole class doing stuff for this paper too, but whatever.

“It’s not procrastination. I’ll get it done.”

“You’re putting it off. That’s procrastinating.”

The words didn’t sting then, but when I’d gone back to my bedroom and sat down at my desk they started to sink in. What does my roommate know about what I was putting off? She is an art major, not an English major. They’re totally different fields of study, and while, yes, I was putting off the reading just because my brain couldn’t handle it, I had done this before. I had done this one semester longer than she had.

There’s a pit in my stomach, one that yawns large and wide and consumes my thoughts.

I guess I should start something, but the story I need to read for tomorrow is dense and not a genre I enjoy. It’ll take me a long time to read, not to mention a level of brainpower that is diminished at this time of day. I would start my essay. In fact, I’d fucking love to start it so I don’t have to worry about writing it tomorrow, but I’m currently in the same trap that she described. I spent all of class today talking about this paper, thinking about this paper. My brain needs a break.

God, I need a break from this.

I just want to sit and watch a good movie like Escape From Planet Earth which I know is funny and awesome all at the same time. I just want to sit and read my book Gone by Michael Grant, because I haven’t touched it since I got here, and I still can’t do it now.

I’m so busy thinking of things I want to do and need to do that I can’t get myself to choose something to focus on. I’m stuck in this limbo of my brain telling me to do something in the voice of my roommate who I’ve known since preschool. I know she didn’t mean it in the way my brain has taken it, but I don’t get to decide how my brain takes things. I just have to deal with the aftermath.

I’m sure she can hear me typing in my room, thinking she got through to me when all I’m typing is the same sentence over and over and erasing it. I’m sure she hears me flipping through the book with the story I have to read, thinking she convinced me to ‘suck it up’ and ‘get it done.’

Every thought I have of taking a break makes my head feel lighter and that pit in my stomach yawn wider and wider.

You have stuff to do. You can’t watch a movie, you don’t have time! You can’t read a book either, no time! You’re at school to learn right? You paid thousands of dollars to learn, so learn! You’re just being lazy. Get your shit done and then you can relax.

But nothing is ever done! It’s just one assignment after the next. Read this story, talk about it in class, read this story, talk about it in class, read this story, talk about it in class. It never ends! It makes me long for the days of high school when my problems seemed so much larger, but I was allowed to fail because I was a kid, I was learning life.

This is life. This is my life now, and I don’t even know if what I’m doing is right.

I want to write stories when I’m older. I want my name to be out there. Not famous by any means, just for people that might read my work and see something in it they relate to. I want someone to see my stories and enjoy them, think about how the world I created works. I want them to create themselves as a character, change my plot, make it better in their own ways.

But I don’t even know if I can do that correctly, so I say I want to be an editor. I want to read people’s stories and help them become the best version of what they could be, but I’m not good at that either. I read the same stories as others in my class and I don’t see what they see. There are complexities lying in the spaces between the words that I just can’t seem to find.

I’m better than I think I am. Or at least that’s what I tell myself, I don’t believe it at all.

Maybe that’s why I sit here now, writing this piece instead of writing my paper or reading that story, because I’m not good. I’m sure that I’m not even great.

All I want to do is cry but the tears won’t come because What if my roommate hears? What if she blames herself? What if she asks questions? And that’s more terrifying than anything else right now, because no matter how much I hate myself, I don’t want that for her. She was just expressing her opinions. I shouldn’t be crying over it, and she shouldn’t feel bad for doing so.

But bottling up your feelings isn’t healthy. Neither is drinking a Monster or eating Hot Cheetos or literally any of the other hundred things I do that are wrong.

What’s one more thing on the pile of inadequacy that is me?

#college #do your homework #roommate #english major #stressed #prose #first draft #final draft #university #dorm life #kill me plz #preferably by campus bus #oneshot #i wrote this in one sitting

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pochapal · 3 years

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rank every year of the 2010s from best to worst i want some pochapal lore

[warning for discussion of my fucked up mental health and my myriad traumas. we’re really opening the pandora’s box here gang]

ok time for me to overshare on the internet again! super long post because i can’t shut up and you asked for it. anyway, by objective ranking:

#1: 2012 - halcyon era, my personal peak. spent the whole year writing hunger games oc fics with my deviantart fanfiction besties whom i still think about all the time and always hope are having the best possible day. if you were here for this era understand i still hold you so closely and dearly in my heart <3.

#2: 2013 - god i was such a good example of a human being back then. was the year my writing like actually took off and i had a healthy balance between creative stuff and a social life (said social life consisting of spending lunchtimes at school breaking into classrooms and discussing fandom shit with five other people. reading homestuck updates in the music room on one person’s really shaky mobile data...legendary). highlight of the year and maybe my life was in the april of 2013 when i got out of failing to submit a hard deadline essay by telling my english teacher i wrote a whole novel over the two week break and then producing said novel. god i wish i had that level of like. fucking confidence back me back then knew what i wanted and how to get it.

#3: 2010 - the last year of childhood. i was 12 and played pokemon all the time with my friends and went places and had a moderately successful youtube channel and it didn’t matter that i was bullied so badly at school because i was basically high off life. summer of 2010 was so good specifically. i’d used to get the bus with a friend and go see movies and break into historical sites and get into normal childhood mayhem and maxed out my pokewalkers twice a month and i was buzzed because i had two (2) whole friendship groups to choose from and that was such a huge deal to me the terminal social outcast. it was so simple and carefree and even though everything and everyone involved in this era grew up to suck except for one specific person i kinda really miss it.

#4: 2018 - this was the first year i wasn’t depressed to the point of nonfunctioning. it was 20gayteen, i was on antidepressants, i was as close to thriving as i got at uni (going into town with people once a week, attending art and culture events, getting good grades across the board), i started to write for fun again, i got my cat whom i love dearly, i was exhibited in my uni’s city’s literature festival, GOD i actually nearly attended a pride event that year can you imagine. this year was basically my life’s second peak. miss getting the 8am train and daintily sipping on a cherry coke to keep me from passing out. wish this time could have lasted longer.

#5: 2019 - kinda absolute middle of the road year not for lack of anything happening but because the overwhelming amount of good and bad things cancelled each other out. so like there’s the fact that i was at the top of my uni game this year, was basically making the first steps into a professional writing career (covid i will never forgive you for killing all that dead </3), finally saved up enough to buy myself a gaming pc, and the summer after the homestuck epilogues, but equally 2019 was the start of the Pochapal Gender Fiasco which is by far the most horrible thing i am still currently undergoing and i burnt myself out mentally about halfway through the year (being stuck overnight in a hospital for a panic attack absolutely horrible horrible irredeemable) and then got like super death plague flu that i was sick with for three months (literally recovered less than a month before rona hit. god’s cruel karma.). so like...it kind of averaged out? the good shit was good but not as great as other years and the bad shit was awful but nowhere near as terrible as it could have been. gotta give a shoutout to 90% of my current mutual cohort for following me in 2019...omelette route gang make some noise !!

#6: 2014 - oof. this year essentially marked the start of a four year long downward mental health spiral because everything fell into awful alignment. i’d just turned 16, finished secondary school, had all my friends up and ditch me at once, was home alone for a whole summer, and was hit with Sudden Intense Body Image Issues that i couldn’t explain until uh. after very recent developments lmao. this one goes out to the me of july 2014 who did nothing but lay in bed and listen to the same two marina albums on a loop because fuck i’m attracted to men and also my facial and body hair are really starting to come in and if i think about this for too long i will literally kill myself because oh god i can’t handle getting older which is clearly and definitely the issue going on here. my brain fucking broke super hardcore and it’s a miracle that an overeating disorder was like the worst thing i walked away with.

#7: 2015 - downward spiral year two!! i was so volatile this year it was such a mess. i was totally socially isolated after a brief stint of falling in with a group of people at the start of my first year of sixth form until january where in quick succession a) it turned out every single one of these people was friends with the person who sexually assaulted me whom i obviously had a lot of complicated feelings towards and b) baby’s first crush came out as bisexual but in the “women and also trans women” kind of way which tore me up so terribly in ways i couldn’t begin to understand. no words for the experience of seeing a girl kiss a boy and crying so hard at night you threw up because you could never be her no matter how much you wanted it. actually kinda get the sense what was going on there was bigger than just some crush lmao. then after that i was so mentally ill i basically attended school less than half the time and it was the only year in my life i failed my exams. i ended up having to resit my entire set of first year a level exams because jesus christ was i in such a bad way it was a miracle i even showed up to them. all i did was either have anxiety attacks or enter bedbound depressive slumps for weeks at a time. but it’s okay because it gets worse.

#8: 2016 - downward spiral act iii: the spiralling. prefacing this by saying that i actually had two whole good months (april - may) in that i was functioning enough to do my exams and finish school with decent grades. the rest was super extra mega terrible. my school attendance for year 13 dipped below 65% and literally the only thing that kept me from being kicked out was the fact that i was naturally smart at the subjects i took and also because the school would have a lot to answer for after letting me get to that state despite having a hefty file on how damaged i was. keep in mind every single part of this was fully untreated btw - i was just floundering around and letting it all fester. i spent three solid weeks going to school but locking myself in the bathroom all day every day and having mental health episodes then going home like nothing else happened only to continue the breakdown that night. then things got kicked into fucked up overdrive when i moved out to uni and was cut off from what little support structures i did have. it was so bad all i did was cry all the time and never went anywhere to the point where three separate sources recommended me to the wellbeing and crisis counselling service that i stopped going to after two sessions because i was fucked up in ways cbt techniques could not even touch. at least i tried to make an effort for the first two months of uni which like. good for me?

#9: 2017 - what lieth at the base of the spiral. helltrench year. i was at literal rock bottom. i stopped going to class, i didn’t hand in a single piece of work. i lied to my parents and would book trains each day only to go back to my student flat and sit there and contemplate suicide. like i would just slump on the floor in a catatonic state and vividly contemplate one of four or so ways i could end my own life. i only didn’t because i wanted to wait until the summer to collect my last student loan and transfer it to my parents as an apology for my death which obviously didn’t end up happening. honestly i can’t remember much of the first half of 2017 that’s how bad it was. i remember taking a gender studies class and the teacher made it Weird that i was the Only Male Student in the room and then she sent me a scolding email after i walked out halfway through a class and never returned. apparently i got into a lot of online discourse in this year but i don’t remember anything other than being put on a blocklist by the milkfic author over ace discourse which is funny if you have the context. mostly i just baited terfs and weirdo freaks to get them to say horrible things to me as what i guess amounts to some kind of digital self harm. anyway breaking point came in late august when i got kicked out of university and then nobody could ignore it any more so there was no choice left but for me to seek out help and recover enough to function which luckily i did. i really Do Not remember 2017. you could tell me anything about that year and i’d probably believe you.

#10: 2011 - extra circle of hell for this little fucked up gem of a year. on the surface it wasn’t actually that terrible, until the Summer 2011 Domino Effect Of Bad Shit. up until like may/june it was a pretty all right year! i was 13 and had a surprisingly successful youtube channel uploading pokemon soundfont remixes to an audience of i think ~350-400 subscribers at my peak? anyway then i got hit with the early summer triple combo of childhood friends moving away, cute and quirky sexual assault at the hands of a person in my friend group, and then having some Really Great and Super Appropriate interactions with adults on deviantart. like obviously there’s the actual ptsd-inducing event which totally disrupted and killed the person i was right up until that moment and reshaped every facet of my life for better or worse (there’s an alternate timeline where that didn’t happen and i got into electronic music and/or coding instead) but really it’s the events that followed in its wake which were kind of more fucked up. so like all of a sudden i was super aware of my body and me growing my hair out and being mistaken for a girl in class suddenly became this Less Innocent thing and i ended up spending hours overnight going to transgender questioning forums and looking up hrt timeline videos and having the wikipedia article on tracheal shaving saved because it was a life raft to me whose voice was imminently gonna deepen and i was simultaneously reeling with constant trauma flashbacks and the whole thing was so so fucked up. then i was on deviantart and i don’t remember exactly how but a small group of furry guys ten to fifteen years older than me started messaging me and encouraging and requesting me to produce nonsexual fetish stuff for them and talking to me about stuff like if i’d ever thought about growing up to be gay and i didn’t think anything of it for a long while because they called me a very talented writer and it felt so good to have someone be nice to me after being so alone and isolated for months on end. anyway the only reason i got out of that before it got bad was because they invited me to one of the big furry sites and i was weirded out because i thought it was a porn site and thinking about sexual stuff was a huge trauma trigger so i just ended up blocking them all and pretending like it didn’t happen. at the time half this shit didn’t bother me but in retrospect holy fuck 2011 was such a damaging year. to think if like three events didn’t happen i wouldn’t be the fucked up mess you see before you today.

god fuck this turned out super long but i’m not apologising because this was a therapeutic exercise for me and also constitutes as one of the biggest pochapal lore dumps of all time. come get your food or whatever.

#Anonymous #long post #read all of this if you have vested interest in knowing intimate details about my life or whatever

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nomadicism · 5 years

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Am I the only one that swears the more I think about VLD, the more and more I think it sucked balls, especially in the later seasons? It comes off like the EPs and writers were making shit up as they went along after s3. It has a lot of confusing plotlines and characters that add nothing to the story, being tonally inconsistent. That's not even going into the times it tries to be edgy and fails, becoming super problematic. Hell, even the action is lackluster after s6.

Hi Anon!

Sorry I sat on this for a bit—but as you sent this Ask prior to that last Let’s Voltron interview with the show-runners—you can now bask in validation knowing that you were right. They really did make it up as they went along!

Despite my salt and criticism, I don’t think that VLD sucks balls in the most compartmentalized-and-objective sense. I didn’t like S6-S8 but I’d still buy Sincline, Atlas, and MFE fighter toys if they were put out.

Like my purple son here, I have no shame.

But yes, the more I think about it—especially when I watch shows like Legend of the Galactic Heroes—I see more problems and weird issues that never should have been, but maybe that will open doors to more serious examination of media, and push Western Animation to do better while figuring out their demographics sooner when planning a show.

Who was VLD really for anyway?

DW and the show-runners messed up their hype, and promised/baited what they were never going to deliver. They rode ATLA’s coat-tails for no good reason. They started off incredibly strong with great creativity and inspired a lot of people. They revealed the gaping abyss of story-telling diversity and complexity that is Western Animation.

Wide demographics of people from 15 to 50+ love animation and want to watch something beautiful, engaging, and tightly written. Deep or not deep, that part is less important. Adults especially want to have more options than simply/minimally animated “not for kids” comedies, or the occasional “mature drama series” that—excluding Castlevania—are usually not well done if it didn’t come from Japan. Adults also have a need for fantastic escapism, which was the sense that many of us got from S1-S2, and that Y7-FV rating gave the appearance of safe escapism. If we want tragedy, we can turn on the news. Western Animation is failing to deliver that.

What I’m saying is, that VLD caught our attention and it was never meant for us in the first place. That’s why it sucks balls in the subjective-and-personal sense.

VLD’s true demographic (the “loved it all”) enjoyed it and want more, and they were never paying much attention to the hype, or interacting with fandom to begin with. Ironically, that demographic ended up not being boys aged 9-12. Who knew? (I did point that out in my post about media fragmentation, but damn if I didn’t give DW more credit/faith than they deserved)

The “loved it all” demographic for VLD are a combination of casual viewership (the type to not get seriously invested and interact with fandom), and those middle-aged white dudes who still buy the toys but aren’t hard core mecha fans so they weren’t annoyed by the reduction of mecha action in favor of character drama (if one wants to call it that). No shade meant at the latter group, it is what it is, and the former group can be just as diverse as the invested fandom, we just don’t hear about them because they either don’t interact with fandom, or they focus on niche-and-casual parts of fandom. I’ve got friends from all over the multiple representation demographics who enjoyed it and didn’t see the problems that the rest of us saw, but they were never invested enough to begin with. VLD is just something fun, pretty, and simple for them to enjoy. Good for them, and I really do mean that.

But those problems Anon, especially those that resulted from what you described in your Ask, are also problems that everyone disagrees over what they are, with only a few points of agreement. Everyone who’s upset has a different “canon is cancelled” point in the series. For some that’s end of S2, for others that’s S5, or S6, or when Allura dies in the end. ‘Tis the stuff of discourse and all that.

If I was a content creator, I’d be confused about how to appeal and please the engaged-and-invested part of VLD fandom. It’s easier when you slice off a piece, like [insert ship here] fanfiction and coffee shop AUs. You’ll find your slice of the wider audience who want that. But writing for everyone? Hell no.

Despite our collective fandom disagreements, it’d be hard to deny just how powerfully so many people were motivated to create art, writing, merch, and cosplay within such a short period of time. That’s my only positive take-away from VLD.

As for everything else…

All canon is a lie, the author is dead, and our search for meaning and total understanding will remain elusive.

Save us Jean Baudrillard, you’re our only hope!

I look forward to years of sociologist PhD dissertations, Media Theory books, and mass media philosophers that deconstruct VLD and fandom to examine and critique the intersection of Western Animation and media diversity. One could construct an entire degree program around the show and all its aspects and still not cover everything. That’s something I guess.

#vld #voltron critical #montsantos #dreamworks #ask me anything #anonymous #salt

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darksiderssin · 5 years

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Post Apocalyptic Slowburn feat. Horsemen

WOW THIS TOOK ME LONG ENOUGH. Super long post, so I’ll stick it under a cut so you don’t have to scroll forever XD

War: The fact that you've survived despite your planet being dead for the good part of a century has impressed the guy right off the bat. Not so much the Watcher, but War is adamant you stay with him- initially to prove to the Council that humanity isn't extinct and strengthen his case. Then you start having each other's back- you are vicious with that machete and Chaoseater is never too far from neatly bifurcating whatever's out to eat you. He's blunt when he tells you why your world ended, and you admit that it's not cool that this was pinned on him just because he was the closest person at the time, and War comes to treasure your loyalty like you treasure having him for a companion. You have a solid friendship already going on here.

By the time the Chosen are dealt with, War doesn't expect you to blindly follow him into the Black Tower for his rematch with Straga and grudge match with the Destroyer, but you do. Your bond is only strengthened by Azrael's confession that the Apocalypse was a mistake, so you are 100% down to help him fight Abaddon. Afterwards, it's just kinda natural that you stay together- you have work to do.

If your first kiss as a couple took a while, then you'll have to wait for one of your more calmer moments to get it on. No Watcher to taunt him now, no Council out to vindicate him- War knows what's coming next. You sit beside him, leaning on his shoulder and holding his arm gently as he admits that despite everything, despite the fact that he's ready for whatever comes next, he is terrified of losing you. That night is spent with your bodies intertwined in a way you know the Horseman just needs, but he's so scared that he might break you in half that you have to talk him through it the whole time, reassuring him and giving him praise. The look in those eyes as he takes you is a mix of feral lust and deep devotion that makes your loins twinge in just the right way, and the growled curses in Abyssal against your ear is enough to send you over the edge. You spend the rest of the night sleeping in an exhausted pile of tangled limbs, but it's a moment of peace you both deserve.

Fury: She absolutely didn't want you around at first. Why you didn't just go to Haven was beyond the Black Rider's comprehension, but you don't get in the way, you're smarter than you look, and you're not a bad shot with a bow and arrow- if you're lucky, you might catch Fury musing aloud how archery is a dying art among other races and that it's refreshing to see it still practiced by humans. ("What was that?" "Shut it and keep walking.") It becomes nice to have you around, though; your reassurance against the taunts of the Seven is strangely comforting, almost, especially when you say you don't know why they call her the dumb one and mention that it's pretty rude.

Speaking of the Seven, hearing them say awful things about how they want to eat you or something along those lines pisses Fury off to no end. Like no, that's her emotional support human, get fucked. Especially when Pride has the nerve to insult her further for "cavorting with the dustborn mongrels"- at least you have a clapback for it that takes Fury by surprise. It definitely knocks Pride's ego down more than a few notches when she's lying defeated with your arrows sticking out of her, But when the masks fall away, you tried to save Fury from Envy, and Envy took you away as a result as the Horseman fell. Fury's mega pissed when she sees that Envy has you chained like her brother was as she assaults the Council.

After it's over, and Fury has ferried the last of the humans at Haven away to safety, she admits that she was terrified of losing you. Now that you both have a moment alone, she's holding you to her chest and making sure Envy didn't hurt you. She finds a few marks and grumbles about it, even when you insist that it's not that bad and it'll heal. "She took what was mine," Fury growls, then captures your lips in a kiss. If you thought Envy left a mark, you're in for a ride, my friend; there's no real method, none of her usual dominatrix posturing, this is her boasting to her deceased enemy that she tried to take away her cherished human, the one who made her want to change, and failed. She's not giving you a moment to breathe, and you get sucked into the frenzied, feral, "holy-shit-we-survived" sex that leaves you both covered in hickeys, and you're pretty sure you passed out at some point. Sure, you've got a temporary colony to set up in the morning, but you crazy kids earned this.

Strife: You know him as Jones, the mild-mannered man of few words that you ran into on your way to the big-ass tree in the middle of Manhattan. He asked if you were alone, and when you explained that it was just you and where you were heading, he asked if he could tag along, since a giant tree isn't something you see every day. You talked about yourselves on the way, but you didn't glean much from his brief answers; middle child, two brothers and a sister, not a local by any standards. You brushed it off as him being a tourist when things literally went to hell in a hand basket and let it go. Ulthane and the other two Makers welcomed you both warmly, and you settled in with the others, finding your place to sleep. You noticed that Jones looked amazed that there were still so many humans alive after everything- you joked about needing a bigger tree, considering a tree this big would draw way more people, given time, and you might run out of room. With time, though, you'd started to pick up on things that he said that gave you the impression that he was a total fish out of water; not knowing about Chuck Norris jokes, or any of the TV shows that had been on before the world ended, and it seemed like he'd never picked up a book, either. You guessed that he was just raised a certain way and left it at that- you just didn't have the heart to ask.

It was one day while you were out hunting together, when you got jumped by a pack of Stalkers. Just your luck, your gun jammed, and you had no idea how to fix it. But just as you'd resigned yourself to the fate of being a lesser demon's chew toy, you heard gunshots ring out next to you- you had no clue where they came from, but Jones was holding two ornate pistols that blasted huge holes in the heads of the Stalkers and didn't seem to run out of bullets. When the smoke cleared, you didn't let it go- he was going to tell you what happened right now. Jones tried to tell you that you didn't want to know, but you were his friend, and he knew you wouldn't stop until you knew the truth. So he showed you. You were sworn to secrecy, but you felt you could trust him more now that you knew who he really was under the mask of a grizzled man in his late thirties, and it showed. Everyone joked about how close you two were getting and you nearly spat your stew across the room when someone asked when the wedding was one night over dinner. Jones took it in good jest, though- but wow, if you two weren't thinking about it later.

He did sleep with you, but it wasn't at Haven. You two were out on a run for supplies and any other things that could be useful to Ulthane or the others when you found what was left of one of the big hotels in town. There had to be stuff in the old safes here that the rich folk left behind when the End came, one being one of the mattresses in the suites that could fit like three people on it, and it was in pretty good nick. Maybe out of some childish impulse or lack of thought, you thought it'd be hilarious to tackle him onto the mattress. After he got over the initial shock and realised you were playing around, you both had a friendly wrestle on the mattress, laughing and rolling around until he let the facade fall away, pinning you down. You could feel his smirk under his mask before he took it off and tossed it aside, capturing your lips as your play-wrestling took a more intimate turn. I mean, no better way to break in a mattress, right?

Death: He was surprised, but elated to find you after stopping some of the Phantom Guard from pulling you out of your hidey hole. Gently as he could manage, he coaxed you into coming out to talk. You were alone, no clue where your friends had gone, and moreover, you were lost. You offered to help the Horseman look for the pieces of the Rod of Arafel, but you weren't sure where you would go after that. Begrudgingly, Death offered to take you with him (a poorly worded statement either way from someone named Death) so he could take you somewhere where you would be safe and protected- and most importantly, you wouldn't be lonely. At this point, anywhere sounded better than Earth, so you went with him. Then, the Pale Rider noticed something with you- not so much on your part as it was his, but...what was this old, familiar feeling? He thought he was being protective because he'd promised to get you to safety, but now he had these thoughts of staying with you. But War...

The more you convinced Death to tell you more of his family, you came to see another side of him- a side that was selfless and wholly prepared to sacrifice for his siblings. You found that quite endearing, that he seemed so human beneath the mask. He made you swear not to repeat any of what was said, but you knew that was a good thing. He was starting to trust you more, enough so that he'd started to take your perspective into consideration when you two were presented with obstacles or challenges, or listen to any random tidbit of trivia or a memory with interest. You wondered if it was love or if you were reading too much into it, and secretly Death wondered the same thing. He was beating around the bush when it came to figuring it out, but it wasn't like he was doubting it, gently brushing his knuckles against your arm as you slept next to him.

Death has to admit it- away from prying eyes. Really, it's the last thing he does, and he knows it's going to be cruel when he has to leave you behind, but he really wants to get back to you someday- time progresses differently depending on the realm you're in, after all. That's why he has to come clean to you. You're not sure how it happened, but you're so close, your body pressed against his chest. You reach up to remove the mask barring access to his lips, but his hands catch yours. "No." It's not said to scorn you, it's a request that shows his vulnerability- you're not sure where it comes from, but with his hands so attentive to your body's aching need, you can forgive him. Lying in the afterglow of your completion, Death feels an ache in his chest. He feels the crushing weight of his duty to War, to his siblings. One day, he hopes, you can forgive him for having to put you second.

#tried to focus on the relationships more here than the smut #i think it turned out fine #darksiders sin #slow burn #war #fury #strife #death

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iampikachuhearmeroar · 5 years

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okay, y’all, i’ve gotta back on my tl;dr bullshit soapbox about something:

so, the other day, i was just mindlessly scrolling through my corporate & capitalist hellscape facebook™️ (i.e. LinkedIn) and came across this totally trite mostly bullshit meme that was shared by some corporate executive search man (whose name i decided to crop out bc eh):

so i obviously agree with the last three points on this list, bc god yes my life would’ve been a bit better if I didn’t get all my dialogue about mental health only from teen mags and horrible portrayals in teen tv shows (and also this hellsite). and hell yeah everyone, and I mean EVERYONE needs to learn that failure is okay many situations (like failing a class in uni or school) bc everyone fails at something sometimes. and dealing with failure is HARD. and time management is something that I’m pretty sure everyone lies to fuckin hell about on their resume, bc lots of people really suck at it, myself included. so yeah. that needs to be taught. and i also agree with the “how to manage your health” point. bc thats becoming ever more prevalent and important with career burn out etc.

but entrepreneurship? people management? conflict resolution? creativity? how to manage money? public speaking? like y’all. three of those ARE taught/learned in school, who the fuck wrote this meme?

for anyone who actually paid attention in maths class, (which is probably very few people outside of the top performing classes), there WAS A WHOLE FUCKING UNIT that focuses on financial maths (in australia anyway). I ignored this unit as well as maths in general at school, bc I generally hated maths and was convinced that I was somehow never going to get a job. but i remember the gist of the overall topic and its subtopics. one subtopic teaches you how to calculate your wages in various contexts (overtime, double-time and a half, holiday payments, im pretty sure maternity leave pay was jammed in somewhere? idk if other countries would have double time & a 1/2 like australia though). another subtopic teaches you how to calculate interest on bank loans and credit rates on credit cards. a third subtopic teaches you how to calculate savings (obvs in terms of discounts in shops)....im sure there was a bit about budgeting in there somewhere? im pretty sure there were some questions were about tax payments somewhere as a subtopic enrichment exercise? but you get my gist. are these not money management skills? in some sense? like if i could find one of my old maths textbooks or old maths books i’d give an example of a question, to make my point stronger. but the problem, like i said before, is that a load of people (myself included) just zone out in maths in high school and stop trying with it. they forget what they’ve learnt, and just remember how much they hated algebra and how they’ll never use it again. maths was one hell of a fucking strong bitch, guys. but maybe i’m wrong.

creativity? excuse me? have people forgotten about art classes? drama classes? english classes? music classes? need i go on? okay don’t get me wrong, most of these classes did focus a lot on memorising quotes or facts about people (artists/writers/poets/composers/dramatists etc) or specific periods/movements in art or theatre or literature for example.... but the amazing sculptures/paintings etc people created in art for their final projects in year 12, or even in year 10 were works of their imagination. the scripts people write in drama or maybe english (if you had a fun teacher who did a screenwriting unit, for example) are creative asf. especially in year 12 when they do their major projects, where they may produce a monologue or a short movie, and then there’s a group piece. drama students might even make their own costumes for these performances. LIKE AIN’T THAT A LOT OF CREATIVITY RIGHT THERE Y’ALL????? and english. lowly old english. THEY HAVE A WHOLE FUCKING TOPIC ON CREATIVE WRITING FOR FUCKS SAKE. the original music people might create for their final projects too in year 12? does that not count as creativity? like yes, i know a lot of these things do still have to meet bs assessment criteria (especially in catholic schools, where the main things are you don’t offend the catholic education office and jesus/god lmao) to be considered worthy of a mark for your year 12 exams. but FUCK. HOW THE FUCK AREN’T ANY OF THESE SUBJECTS COUNTED TOWARDS BEING CREATIVE???????? like fuck your corporate creative ideation or w/e bullshit, Callum. drama and english even lend themselves to improvisation in some instances, like public speaking, which is examined further, below.

next, we move on to public speaking. this shit is basically taught from the first goddamn day of “show & tell” in kindy/kindergarten, and this fucker has the gall to say that it’s not fucking taught in schools? someone call in miley cyrus/hannah montana to throw the fuck down in this motherfucking hoedown BC THIS STUPID-ASS MEME-FUCKER HAS NERVE. i hated public speaking. absolutely hated it. even though it was ironically one of the places i ended up excelling in in english classes. even when i fucked up in my english speeches with like “oh, fuck.... said nelson mandela, i’ve seem to’ve lost my palm card. wait, shit! there it is... excuse me while i pull it out of my ass. whoops, sorry miss” *bats eyes and finger guns at my year 9 english teacher who has her head in her hands and is done with my shit, while the class laughs at my gaffe* i’d still end up with like 73% or like 26/30. it was baffling. but for people who weren’t the class clown/smart alec like i was from years 7-10 (and like i actually wasn’t once i moved schools).... public speaking is like the leading cause of anxiety, right? like by the time i got to doing speeches/presentations at uni i was having panic attacks... the thought of presenting to my classes made me fucking sick with fear and anxiety. nearly every subject i did at uni (even when i tried to avoid subs with public speaking assessments) and throughout school had some type of presentation/speech whatever you want to call it project/activity in it. even fucking SPORT/PDHPE at school and even philosophy at uni. and these fuckers are saying its not taught in schools. FUCK OFF. like yeah, i get that they actually mean it in the professional sense.... where people can give the sappy bs motivational speeches or an insightful ted-talk worthy 20-minute presentation... or a great sales pitch. but like??? save that for mike “my dad phoned in to EY and i have a job waiting for me after uni” mcfuck in a business major or law degree? or for clubs like toastmasters? fuck. ok enough of the skills we learn in school. let’s move onto the businesslike-sounding ones of “people management”, “conflict management” and fucking “entrepreneurship”. like. what the fuck? okay in some sense people management and conflict management could potentially be used in managing friendships and relationships in your personal life. but like. i can feel the business underpinnings and i dont like it lmao. like why do you want fully functioning adults straight out of school, franklin? and there’s extra credit conflict management subjects at uni??? or at least my home uni had it... and i never did them bc they were intensive courses during summer break lol. but the one that pissed me off the most was entrepreneurship. LIKE ARE KIDS NOT FUCKING ALLOWED TO BE KIDS NOW????? well apparently: “NO! YOU MUST ALWAYS THINK OF MONEY MAKING WAYS TO BE RICH! YOU MUST BE ENTREPRENEURIAL!!!!!! YOU MUST GENERATE BUSINESS IDEAS FROM THE TIME YOU CAN FUCKIN’ WALK!!!!! AND SPEAK!!! CHILDHOOD AND BEING A TEENAGER DON’T EXIST WORKER BEE!!!! CAPITALISM FOR ALL!!!! WORKER BEES!!! CAPITALISM IS YOUR FRIEND!!! OWN A BUSINESS BY THE TIME YOU’RE 8 YEARS OLD!” like it’s insidious asf. and it doesn’t acknowledge that most entrepreneurs are already privileged people anyway, who usually have some type of money to start off their venture (or that’s what it feels like anyway). and yeah throw all the “THIS BOY IS AN ENTREPRENEUR AT 18!!! 18!!!???? BY STARTING HIS OWN BUSINESS AT 12!!!! WHAT A CHAMP! 😁🙃” clickbait news stories at me, but i don’t fucking care. the concept and perceived over-importance and almost preaching mindset of entrepreneurship is slowly becoming insidious and toxic asf. call me paranoid. but that’s what it feels like.

but with those last three topics, i want to make a point that school curriculum’s (in australia at least, and probably worldwide) are so jam-packed already with sport (which is pointless and shitty), geography (ok how to read maps is important, but i never bothered to learned to do it properly), history, science, english etc etc etc..... that like.... where the actual fuck are the gonna jam the above bs (people management”, “conflict management” and entrepreneurship) into the curriculum???? and also teachers are already over-worked enough as it is, they don’t need another load of shitty subjects pushed onto them. and they sure asf don’t earn enough (especially in the states) to have this bs pushed into their subject schedules either. keep them at uni, where they should be. or just in the workplace/in the general public where they belong. and if people suggest that you could probably push these subjects into the year 11/12 business studies programs or elective commerce courses in years 9/10, save your goddamn breath. like i remember looking at business studies hsc papers in years 11/12 to see what they did.... and it was pretty chock-a-block anyway. and my experience of my year 9 commerce was horrible, to say the least. let kids be kids, for fucks sake. they shouldn’t have to be fully functioning adults in the workplace, by the end of high school, for fucks sake. AND ENTREPRENEURSHIP IS NOT AN ESSENTIAL SKILL????!!!! FUCK OFF WITH THAT SHIT, WILHELM. anyway. that’s my rant over about how i hate how corporate people are trying to be #relatablewiththeyouth🙃 with their shitty versions of “10 things i wish we learned in school” memes.... and failing.... without realising that this is why millennials are suspicious and cynical about meme usage by corporate people/corporations.

#life #about me #shut up ilona #ranty mcrantrant #ilona rants about shit #warning: a too long didnt read/tl;dr post #for lazy tumblr peeps who never read long posts is ahead #BEWARE!!!’#and strap in for the ride #but yeah tl:dr ahead #learn to read long form posts you fucks #it was in my replies #so read my tags y’all

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fae-fucker · 5 years

Text

Review: Shatter Me

by Tahereh Mafi

Juliette hasn’t touched anyone in exactly 264 days.

The last time she did, it was an accident, but The Reestablishment locked her up for murder. No one knows why Juliette’s touch is fatal. As long as she doesn’t hurt anyone else, no one really cares. The world is too busy crumbling to pieces to pay attention to a 17-year-old girl. Diseases are destroying the population, food is hard to find, birds don’t fly anymore, and the clouds are the wrong color.

The Reestablishment said their way was the only way to fix things, so they threw Juliette in a cell. Now so many people are dead that the survivors are whispering war– and The Reestablishment has changed its mind. Maybe Juliette is more than a tortured soul stuffed into a poisonous body. Maybe she’s exactly what they need right now.

Juliette has to make a choice: BE A WEAPON. OR BE A WARRIOR.

*This review contains vague spoilers.*

I uh … I’m having a hard time figuring out where to even begin with this one, lads. I guess I’ll start with the absolute basics:

This book is not a dystopia. This is a superhero (supervillain?) origin story. I didn’t know this going in and it didn’t feel like it until the very end. With heavy-handed romance, heavy-handed writing, heavy-handed messages, and a plodding plot that I’m pretty sure sucked about 25 years out of my goddamn life.

*rubs hands together*

Well, with that in mind, let’s do this!

The “Writing”

Tahereh Mafi isn’t some backwater Harlequin mommy porn writer, nu-uh! She’s an Artiste, and as such, her art isn’t merely art, it’s Arté.

When a sentence could be five words, Mafi makes it a paragraph. When a metaphor could make sense, Mafi confuses your PLEBEIAN MIND with her MYSTIC WRITING POWERS, to the point where nothing fucking makes sense anymore and you’re just scratching your head, wondering how the fuck supposedly near-catatonic Juliette is able to come up with such convoluted comparisons. When other writers use pages to put words on them for people to read, Mafi puts maybe one word at the very top for four or five pages for the DRAMA of it all, except unlike when we all freaked out about Stephenie Meyer doing that, here it’s Artistic.

Jokes aside, this book is the epitome of everything I hate about purple prose. As someone who violently dislikes purple prose (because usually it’s done horribly by people who want to show off how many big words they know rather than evoke any sort of emotion), I knew going in that this book wouldn’t be for me, but I wasn’t expecting this.

Metaphors are long ang confusing, the prose and the rhythm are all off, the dialogue is atrocious and cartoonish, and Juliette’s thoughts are painfully obtuse despite her supposed “deep” personality. Except sometimes her thoughts are so convoluted and specific that it clashes with how dumb she is. Sometimes she thinks of the lackadaisical ennui of the uncaring sun, sometimes she compares her boyfriend’s eyes to buckets of water. It’s a huge, disjointed mess of word vomit.

People have defended Juliette’s narration as being a result of her solitary confinement, but those people’s opinions are bad and wrong and you shouldn’t listen to them, and I will explain to you why when I discuss Juliette’s “personality” in the character section of this review.

This book’s main “thing” is Juliette crossing out words and sentences, but it’s not consistent enough to actually mean anything or tell us anything about Juliette. It also happens in dialogue, which is fucking baffling. How do characters speak the words that are crossed out? Presumably they don’t, and I’m guessing that it’s supposed to represent what Juliette thinks people want to say but don’t, but then why the fuck would you put the crossed-out shit inside the quotes with the actual dialogue? Don’t!!!! Do that!!!! You’re clearly not equipped to ignore the rules of grammar yet, Mrs Mafi! You need to level up!!!

Sometimes, things that are implied to be true are crossed out. Sometimes, it’s the propaganda that Juliette knows is untrue that’s crossed out. With both the truth and the lies, Juliette’s thoughts vs her feelings, being crossed out without any rhyme or reason, we can never be entirely certain what the fuck the strikethroughs are supposed to represent.

If, for example, only the lies were crossed out, it would imply Juliette was aware that they’re lies and isn’t afraid to confront the truth. If only the truth was crossed out, then it would mean Juliette is in denial, knowing something is wrong but believing it anyway.

Instead, the strikethrough bullshit is just … there. What it means changes from instance to instance, and because of that, it loses all the impact and significance it could’ve had and ends up meaning nothing.

In short: the writing in this book is a whole-ass mess and nothing you say will convince me otherwise.

The Characters

Juliette’s mind is perfectly fine at all times, characters even praise her for being able to withstand literal psychological torture unlike all the other female WEAKLINGS in the facility. Her obnoxious inner monologues are just there for show, because Juliette is Deep and Troubled but in a sexy, dramatic way that doesn’t actually impact her as a person or her life at all. She doesn’t suffer from any mental illness or trauma that would’ve been brought on by 260+ days of nonstop psychological torture and years of emotional abuse and neglect.

How do I know that? Because she doesn’t believe any of the bullshit she spouts. It’s made perfectly clear that Juliette only thinks in metaphors because that’s just her obnoxious “personality”. Sometimes one of the Boys says something and she claims that her knees shatter or something similar. Except she doesn’t react as if they were, as if she felt the pain. She only thinks that because … Idk. It’s deep. Shut the fuck up.

I think her narration is supposed to imply that Juliette is smart, but that’s hilariously contrasted by her constant, and I mean fucking CONSTANT thirst and attraction to both Adam and Warner, the latter being especially jarring considering how she keeps saying she despises him and is disgusted by him.

She ogles and fawns over these men even when she’s in pain or in danger, even when they’re the ones inflicting the pain or threatening her. That’s how fucking horny she is, that’s where Mafi’s priorities lie.

She undermines her own protagonist by having Juliette constantly act like a horny schoolgirl instead of the broken and tortured person she should be after what she’s been through. After years of isolation and discrimination, after 260 days of solitary confinement, this girl still acts just like any other normal horny teenager, and it’s fucking awful to read, because it invalidates everything Juliette has been through and once again puts sex appeal and men higher on the priority list over an honest and realistic portrayal of trauma and isolation.

Speaking of sex appeal …

Warner. Oh Warner. What wonderful potential was lost. I think he’s genuinely interesting, or at least had the potential to be. He’s damaged and he’s troubled and he’s complex, despite how edgy he is. He’s hands-down the most interesting character in the book, and I weep for Mafi’s inability to fucking pace herself because that’s what’s absolutely ruined him for me. Let me explain:

I’m all for redemption arcs, alright? And Warner? He’s … salvageable. With some work and some atonement, I can totally see him becoming a complex anti-hero type. He’s clearly fucked up and the things he does are damaging him.

You know where Mafi fails? You know where she fucking destroys the guy?

She’s constantly describing him as hot. When he’s acting like a terrifying and abusive shithead, Juliette can’t help but think of how the anger makes his green eyes flash. When he takes off his shirt, Juliette claims how disgusted she is by the sight, and then in the same breath describes his perfectly sculpted chest in careful detail.

We’re supposed to find Warner sexy.

We’re supposed to reluctantly be attracted to him, just like Juliette, despite that and sometimes even because he’s a dangerous and abusive jackass.

There’s even a makeout session between Juliette and Warner where she’s complaining about how grossed out she is, but the kissing is described in more sexy and hot detail than any Adam makeout, and Juliette can’t help her attraction to Warner despite her believing he’d just killed the man she loves in cold blood.

Do you undersand my problem? If Warner was just a tragic villain and Juliette pitied him and didn’t feel any, and I mean ANY attraction to the guy, I would 100% accept him later trying to change sides to atone or to make up for the things he did. Aka a proper redemption arc.

But here, he’s already written as attractive to us. He’s already sexy and desireable and alluring. The narrative paints him in a good light by undermining the terrible things he does through constant descriptions of his appearance and Juliette’s obvious lust for him.

And you can say that “Woe, Juliette can’t control her attraction!” and you would still be a dumbass, because guess who can control Juliette’s attraction? Tahereh Mafi. It was Mafi’s conscious decision to make Juliette attracted to Warner, to write him this way as a sexy but dangerous man we’re supposed to root for and want to fix.

And that’s just gross. So whatever excuse or justification or explanation Warner’s actions get in lieu of an actual redemption arc, it won’t matter to me, because it’s already been undermined by how sexy he’s supposed to be despite his damage, and the terrible things he does are only there to make him more “mysterious” and his eventual love interest status more unexpected.

Mafi isn’t interested in writing a redemption arc, she just can’t write a morally ambiguous or mysterious love interest without taking it up to eleven and have him be a fucking unhinged dictator, but it’s ok because he’s still hot enough to bang!

I love redemption arcs. I hate abusers who are painted as attractive.

Adam exists. And what a pointless existence it is! He’s very obviously a decoy love interest, too nice and too basic to be endgame, and just vague and nonthreatening enough to have a sinister plan.

See, girls? Boys who protect you and care about you are actually evil! The boys who abuse you and terrify you are the ones who truly love you!

Kenji is very clearly designed to be quirky and snarky and for the Tumblr fangirls to fawn over to the point where he sticks out like a sore thumb among the rest of the cast. I didn’t like him and found him to be pretty boring without any deviation from the snarky flirty guy archetype.

There are a bunch of other characters that are spoilers and who don’t really matter, but I will say that there is a Black man who’s described as chocolate, so there.

Um. Women? I’m pretty sure the only named women we actually get to see on the page are two identical twins who are basically one entity and they show up in like the last chapter?

Before one of you shouts OMG THERE ARE MORE WOMEN IN THE LATER BOOKS, yeah, probably, I fucking hope so, but I’m not reviewing those books yet, I’m reviewing this one, and it’s one fucking giant sausage fest of hot dudes and faceless mooks.

Dems the fax.

The “Plot”

If you go into this expecting an exploration of the importance of human touch and how the lack of it might impact a person, you’re a dumbass and so am I for making that mistake.

If you’re expecting a gloomy but action-filled dystopia based on some more district/caste/personality oppression, you’re wrong again but at least justified because that’s what this is marketed as.

The stakes and conflict are … are they? Are we sure they even exist? Jury’s still out because I have no idea what Juliette wants aside from sucking Adam’s dick (and Warner’s sometimes). I know what she doesn’t want, I think (?), but I don’t know why she doesn’t want it aside from the “uwu i’m too good and pure and love people too much even tho they’ve shown me nothing but hatred and rejection” crap.

I’m honestly having a hard time figuring out what this book even is about. Supposedly the major plot development is Juliette realizing how powerful she is and how nobody will get to use her anymore, but the first thing happens in the very last chapter out of fucking nowhere, while the last thing doesn’t even matter because up until this point, Juliette has already been spending the entire book refusing to be used in the first place.

Oh, and about the first thing again, where Juliette must realize her power? It’s supposed to be this big epic moment for her at the end of the book, but we see her use her powers to throw around threats to get what she wants several times before that, on people she barely knows. She threatens Kenji just because he makes a few inappropriate comments about her, which is fucking baffling because she refused to even try to hurt Warner even though he’s been nothing but an asshole to her up until that point.

The moment Juliette gets her hands on a gun, she’s suddenly super empowered and has no problem spitting badass one-liners, even though she was a sad woobie pacifist up until that point and who couldn’t even IMAGINE hurting anyone, not even supposed monster Warner. The whole gun thing is weird and vaguely gross tbh, because Juliette genuinely seems to enjoy the power it gives her and I’m not into that.

On a technical level, this book is mostly Juliette being pushed around by men, feeling sorry for herself and clinging to morals that only serve to show how pure and good she is despite making no sense and being odd for someone in her position to have.

There are entire chapters of repeated revelations, where Juliette is sometimes literally dragged around from scene to scene by the hand, and she realizes the same thing over and over, seemingly forgetting it at the start of the chapter just to she can learn it again by the end of it: Warner is a meanie poopy-head who’s willing to hurt, kill, and torture other people for his own gain. Every time he shows this, Juliette acts shocked all over again.

This goes on for about half the book until shit suddenly takes a turn and the book becomes yet another Underground Teenage Rebellion Fighting to Take Down the Man drama, except this time the teenagers are mutants with cool superpowers.

It’s a complete tonal shift and it’s jarring as all heck, but at least there’s no more pretense about this being a dystopia because boy oh boy is it painful to watch Mafi struggle to worldbuild even the slightest concept for this superpowered angstfest.

The Worldbuilding

Important Proper Nouns galore. The book’s website (where I got the blurb) says that this book is “fresh” and “original”.

Yeah let’s uuh … Let’s investigate that statement.

The main evil guys are called the Reestablishment. That’s two letters away from Juliette fighting the establishment.

D-do I need to say more?

I honestly don’t know if I can. It’s like Mafi just sorta took all the other YA dystopian “quirks” and threw them all in without rhyme or reason.

Climate is fucked because of Big Corporate? Yeah. All animals are dead or mutated? Yup. Art and religion is deemed bad and terrible and banned for reasons? Throw that in there too, why not? They’re destroying all languages, English included? O-ok?

We never really … dwell on any of these things or figure out why they happened or how or even where. These things are always brought up together like some sort of checklist of all the bad things that the Reestablishment has done.

And I guess for a superhero story with “pulse-pounding” romance, it doesn’t really have to be that much more complicated, and it serves its function, but on Mafi’s website there’s boasting about how it has the worldbuilding of The Hunger Games and honey, you might become a more successful circus act than a writer because the level of contortion required to shove your head that far up your ass is frankly impressive.

The Wokeness

Warner is constantly described and called “crazy” and “insane” and a “madman”, so that’s FUN. Combined with the fact that this book doesn’t seem to have any idea about what solitary does to you and effectively trivializes literal torture, this isn’t looking good, lads.

There’s also, as I mentioned, no women aside from Juliette, and everything’s always about men and how they affect her and her life and how much they matter to her.

Just. Bad. The most progressive thing about this book is the fact that a WoC wrote it, and that’s about it.

The Quotes

I’m … so sorry for this. But you have to see them.

This Kills the Lady

Raindrops are my only reminder that clouds have a heartbeat. That I have one, too.

I always wonder about raindrops.

I wonder about how they’re always falling down, tripping over their own feet, breaking their legs and forgetting their parachutes as they tumble right out of the sky toward an uncertain end. It’s like someone is emptying their pockets over the earth and doesn’t seem to care where the contents fall, doesn’t seem to care that the raindrops burst when they hit the ground, that they shatter when they fall to the floor, that people curse the days the drops dare to tap on their doors.

I am a raindrop.

My parents emptied their pockets of me and left me to evaporate on a concrete slab.

Wot?

I catch the rose petals as they fall from my cheeks, as they float around the frame of my body, as they cover me in something that feels like the absence of courage.

Huh?

He shifts and my eyes shatter into thousands of pieces that ricochet around the room, capturing a million snapshots, a million moments in time. Flickering images faded with age, frozen thoughts hovering precariously in dead space, a whirlwind of memories that slice through my soul.

Come Again?

Summer is like a slow-cooker bringing everything in the world to a boil 1 degree at a time. It promises a million happy adjectives only to pour stench and sewage into your nose for dinner.

The Sun is a Rat Bastard – Poem by Juliette

I hate the lackadaisical ennui of a sun too preoccupied with itself to notice the infinite hours we spend in its presence. The sun is an arrogant thing, always leaving the world behind when it tires of us.

Juliette Contemplates Cannibalism

He whispers, “How are you?” and I want to kiss every beautiful beat of his heart.

He’s Not Wrong, I Guess

It’s the only reason Adam is staying with me – because Warner thinks Adam is a cardboard cutout of vanilla regurgitations.

Get You A Man Who Can Fix Years of Abuse and 260 Days of Solitary!

He’s kissing away the pain, the hurt, the years of self-loathing, the insecurities, the dashed hopes for a future I always pictured as obsolete.

*Sarah J Maas voice*

Realization is a pendulum the size of the moon. It won’t stop slamming into me.

I … What?

He’s a hot bath, a short breath, 5 days of summer pressed into 5 fingers writing stories on my body.

Juliette is a Loony Tunes Character

My eyelashes trip into my eyebrows; my jaw drops into my lap.

Kenji Is the Worst

He grins and hobbles forward. “You know, you’re pretty hot for a psycho chick.”

I … What? part 2

My jaw is dangling from my shoelace.

The Conclusion

Don’t waste your time on this. Trust me. There’s so many things I’ve left out for the sake of brevity, and I still ended up with a mile-long review.

It doesn’t work as a romance, it doesn’t work as a dystopia, and it certainly doesn’t work as a superhero origin story. Mostly because it tries to be all of these things at once and ends up being an overwritten mediocre mess.

For a time I felt vaguely invested and interested in knowing what happened in the next books, but that feeling has passed now and I couldn’t give less of a shit.

I would honestly be very interested in seeing a character like Warner be written properly and watch him try to redeem himself and atone. But that train has already left the station, and Mafi was not on it.

#book review #repost #shatter me

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dillydedalus · 5 years

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what i read in july

THAT’S MORE LIKE IT aka i’m finally out of the (relative) reading slump for good & my bro james joyce was there

men explain things to me, rebecca solnit the original mansplaining essay is great, and still scarily relevant; the others in this collection (most on feminist issues) are also quite good; some aspects are a bit dated & problematic so be aware of that. 2.5/5

erschlagt die armen!, shumona sinha (tr. from french, not available in english) short but very impactful novella about a young french woman, originally from india, who works as an interpreter in the asylum system and becomes more & more broken by this system of inhumane bureaucracy and suffering, until she snaps and hits a migrant over the head with a wine bottle. full of alienation and misery and beautiful but disturbing language - the title translates to ‘beat the poor to death’ so like. yeah. 3.5/5

fire & blood: a history of the targaryen family I, george r r martin look, it’s a 700-page-long fake history book about a fictional ruling dynasty in a fictional world, and i’m just That Obsessed & Desperate about asoiaf (and i don’t even care about the targs That Much). anyway, now i know more about the targs than any ruling family from, you know, real history, which is like, whatever. this is pretty enjoyable if you are That Obsessed, although i will say that some bits are much better than others (there are some dry dull years even in everyone’s fav overly dramatic dragon-riding incest-loving family) and the misogyny really is. a lot. too much. way too much. BUT i did really like Good Best Queen Alysanne (her husband king joe harris is alright too i guess) and i found my new westerosi otp, cregan stark/aly blackwood, who both have Big Dick Energy off the fucking charts. 3.5/5 (+0.5 points for cregan and aly’s combined BDE)

the old drift, namwali serpell hugely ambitious sprawling postcolonial nation-building novel about zambia, told thru three generations of three families, as well as a chorus of mosquitoes (consistently the best & smartest parts). there is A LOT going on, in terms of characters, of plot points, of references to history (the zambian space programme) and literature (finally my knowledge of heart of darkness paid off) and thematically, and honestly it was a bit too much, a bit too tangled & fragmented & drifty, and in the end i probably admire this book more than i liked it, but serpell’s writing is incredibly smart and funny and full of electrical sparks 3.5/5

a severed head, iris murdoch the original love dodecahedron (not that i counted). iris murdoch is fucking WILD and i love her for it. this is a strange darkly funny little farce about some rich well-educated londoners and their bizarre & rather convoluted love lives. not as grandiosely wild as the sea the sea, but fun nevertheless. 3/5

midnight in chernobyl, adam higginbotham jumping on the hype bandwagon caused by the hbo series (very weird to call the current fascination with chernobyl a hype bandwagon but you know). interesting & well-written & accessible (tho the science is still totally beyond me) & gets you to care about the people involved. lots of human failure, lots of human greatness, set against the background of the almost eldritch threat of radioactivity (look up the elephant foot & see if you don’t get chills), and acute radiation syndrome which is THE MOST TERRIFYING THING ON EARTH . 3.5/5

normal people, sally rooney honestly this is incredibly engrossing & absorbing once you get used to how rooney completely ignores ‘show don’t tell’ (it works!), i pretty much read the whole thing in one slow workday (boss makes a dollar, i make a dime so i read books on my phone on company time, also i genuinely had nothing to do). i also think rooney is really good at precisely capturing the ~millenial experience in a way that feels very true, especially the transition from school to uni. BUT i really disliked the ending, the book never engages with the political themes it introduces (esp. class and gender) as deeply as it could and the bdsm stuff never really gets TIED UP LOL. so overall idk: 3.5/5

störfall: nachrichten eines tages, christa wolf quiet reflective undramatic little book narrated by a woman waiting to hear about the outcome of her brother’s brain surgery on the day of the catastrophe at chernobyl - throughout the day she puts down her thoughts about her brother and the events unfolding at chernobyl, as well as the double uncertainty she is trying to cope with. really interesting to read such an immediate reaction to chernobyl (the book came out less than a year after chernobyl). 2.5/5

the man in the high castle, philip k dick it was fine? quick & entertaining alternative history where the axis powers win the war, some interesting bits of worldbuilding (like the draining of the mediterranean which was apparently a real idea in the early 20th century?) but overall it’s just felt a bit disjointed & unsatisfying to me. 2.5/5

fugitive pieces, anne michaels very poetic & thoughtful novel about the holocaust, grief, remembrance & the difference between history and memory, intergenerational trauma, love, geology and the weather. i’m not sure how much this comes together as a novel, but it is absolutely beautifully written (the author is a poet as well) and very affective. 3.5/5

american innovations, rivka galchen short collection of bizarre & often funny short stories about neurotic women whose furniture flies away, or who grow an extra breast, or who are maybe too occupied with financial details. very vague & very precise at once, which seems to be the thing with these sort of collections. 3/5

fool’s assassin (fitz & the fool #1), robin hobb YAASS i’m back in the realm of the elderlings!!! i thought this was one of the weaker installments in the series - i still enjoyed it a lot, and Feelings were had, but it just doesn’t quite fit together pacing-wise & some of the characterisation struck me as off (can i get some nuance for shun & lant please?) and tbh fitz is at peak Selfcentred Dumbass Levels & it drove me up the fucking wall. molly, nettle & bee deserve better. still, completely HYPE for the rest of the trilogy. 3.5/5

JAMES JOYCE JULY

note: i decided not to read dubliners bc it’s my least fav of joyce’s major works & too bleak & repetitive for my mood right now AND while i planned not to reread finnegans wake bc……. it’s finnegans wake…. i kinda do want to read it now (but i also. really don’t.) so idk yet.

a portrait of the artist as a young man, james joyce y’all. i read this book at least once a year between the ages of 15 and 19, it’s beyond formative, it is burnt into my brain, and reading it now several years later it is still everything, soaring and searing (that searing clarity of truth, thanks burgess) and poetic and dirty, and stephen is baby, and a pretentious self-important little prick and i love him & i am him (or was him as only a pretentious self-important teenage girl reading joyce can be him - because this truly is a book that should be read in your late teens when you feel everything as intensely and world-endingly and severely as my boy stephen does and every new experience feels like the world changing). anyway i love this book & i love stephen dedalus, bird-like, hawk-like, knife-blade, aloof, alienated, severe and stern, a poet-priest-prophet if he could ever get over himself, baby baby baby. 5/5

exiles, james joyce well. there’s a reason joyce is known as a novelist. this is….. a failed experiment, maybe. a fairly boring play about an adulterous love-square and uh… love beyond morality and possession maybe??? about how much it would suck for joyce to return to ireland??? and tbh it’s not terribly interesting. 2/5

travesties, tom stoppard a wild funny irreverent & smart antic comedy inspired by the fact that during ww1, james joyce, lenin, and dadaist tristan tzara were all in neutral zurich, more or less simultaneously; they probably never met, but in this play they do, as dadaist poetry, socialist art critique, and a james joyce high on his own genius & in desperate need of some cash while writing ulysses, AND the importance of being earnest (joyce is putting on a production of it) all collide in the memories of henry carr, who played algernon & later sued joyce over money (tru facts). not my fav stoppard (that’s arcadia) but it’s funny & fizzy & smart & combines many many things that i love. 4/5

ulysses, james joyce look i’m not really going to tell y’all anything new about ulysses, but it really has everything, it’s warm & human(e) & cerebral & difficult & funny & sad & healing & i always get a lot out of it even tho there’s bits (a lot of them) i’ll never wrap my head around. ultimate affirmation of humanity or whatever. also stephen dedalus is baby. 5/5

dedalus, chris mccabe the fact that this book (sequel to ulysses about what stephen dedalus might have done the next day) exists and was published ON MY BIRTHDAY is proof that the universe loves me.

anyway this is very very good, very very clever, extremely good at stephen (less good at bloom but his parts are still good), engages w/ ulysses, portrait & hamlet (& others) very cleverly & does some cool meta and experimental shit. y’all it has stephen talking to a contemporary therapist about how he’s stuck in joyce’s text which is all about joyce & very little about whoever stephen is when he’s not joyce’s alter ego/affectionate but slightly amused look at younger self and ithaca is an interview w/ the author about how his relationship to his dad influenced his response to ulysses and I’M INTO IT. the oxen of the sun chapter replaces the whole ‘gestation of english prose’ w/ just slightly rewriting the first pages of about 10 novels published between ulysses and now & it does lolita w/ “bloom, thorn of stephen’s sleep, light in his eyes. his sire, his son’ and i lit. screamed. anyway i don’t want to give this 5 stars (yet) bc i think some of the experimental stuff ended up a bit gimmicky & didn’t add that much to the text but fuck. that’s my boy & i want to reread it right now. 4.5/5 ALSO it’s a crime no literary weirdo woman has written ‘a portrait of the artist’s sister’ about delia ‘dilly’ dedalus, shadow of stephen’s mind, quick far & daring, teaching herself french from a 3rd hand primer while her father drinks the nonexistent family fortune away and her older brother is getting drunk on a beach & starting fights w/ soldiers bc he’s a smartarse

#the books i read #long post

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crystaiskiess · 6 years

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Blinded with Love

AO3 Link Summary: In order to be Phil's friend there were two essential rules 1) They must have a good dose of sarcasm And more importantly 2) they most completely and absolutely cannot treat him differently for being blind

Author’s Notes: This fic was written for the phandom big bang! It was a hard journey and I hope you guys enjoy the result

Check out the incredible art done by @cas-tellation!!!

Artwork

Nothing sucked more than your closest - read: only - friend being away from school. Arguably he had more than one friend, mostly because Phil had a lot of acquaintances, some might call themselves his friends but he had two requirements for such a feat.

1) They must have a good dose of sarcasm

And more importantly 2) they most completely and absolutely cannot treat him differently for being blind, this was essential.

The second requirement disqualifies almost the entirety of his year level, minus PJ, which brings Phil back to his original point. PJ being away, completely and utterly sucks.

He was sitting outside where there was always empty seats available, and because he enjoyed the way the cold air nipped at his skin. He ran his fingers over the small bumps of his book, reading about Elizabeth Bennet and her crazy family in Pride and Prejudice with a small smile. This book never failed to make him feel relaxed and amused, there was something about the way life used to work in those days that made him laugh. A crunch of gravel drew him out of his thoughts, someone huffed in what seemed to be a mixture of annoyance and exhaustion but it was impossible to tell without an expression to match.

“Fuck I’m here half an hour early,” the voice groaned, Phil didn’t recognise it but that didn’t necessarily tell him anything, it was hard to place all the names and voices in his year level let alone the entire school. He allowed a small chuckle as the boy flopped onto the bench seat, clearly unaware of Phil sitting right there. Phil felt the bench bounce slightly as the voice, which sounded male, started in shock.

“Oh shit sorry I didn’t see you there,” the person apologised with an awkward laugh, “I’m Dan Howell, I’m new here.” There was an awkward pause where Phil tried to guess whether or not Dan was waiting for a handshake, eventually he settled with a hope that he was indeed not doing so, and prayed that he was correct, yet another reason he needed PJ to be there.

“I’m Phil,” he introduced himself with a smile, hoping he was looking in the correct direction, “is this your first day?”

There was a long pause and Phil internally cringed, realising Dan must have nodded, “erm yeah, I just moved here from Reading,” Dan added, confirming Phil’s suspicions that he had nodded.

“Oh cool! Do you know anyone here?” he asked as he closed his book, sliding his hand along to where he knew his bag was so he could put the book away. He heard Dan huff a laugh of disbelief, Phil could imagine an awkward neck scratch which he executed many a time accompanying it.

“Nah, I’ve only spoken to you,” Dan’s voice betrayed a slight wobble, which Phil guessed meant he was nervous, not that he could blame him, first days must be hard.

Phil grinned at him, “Awesome! You can hang with me then, my friend’s away today so I needed someone anyway!”

Phil could hear the smile in Dan’s voice as he responded, “Really?” Phil nodded and he felt Dan bounce with excitement, “That’s so great ah thank you so much,” he rambled, “I struggle so much on first days it’s just so difficult to make friends when you’re an awkward lanky teenager with no social skills you know?”

Phil laughed loudly, “I totally get it,” he replied with a smirk, gesturing to his own lanky form. Dan giggled in response, Phil could hear that it was muffled behind a hand and he smiled warmly. “So first day huh?” He continued the conversation, tucking his bag beside his foot and leaning back so he could face Dan properly as he knew it made people more comfortable, “What’s that like?”

Dan made a noise somewhere between disbelief and a groan of annoyance, “You’ve never had a first day?” He asked.

“Not since nursery,” Phil shrugged, “my whole year level moved together.” He smiled softly at the jealous whine Dan emitted, it sounded like he had buried his face in his hands.

There was a slightly muffled sigh and then Dan responded saying, “It usually sucks, no one talks to me,” Phil felt his face slip into a small frown as Dan’s tone turned dejected and slightly broken, “I’ve moved schools a lot I’m kinda used to it,” Phil could hear the self deprecating smile in his words as Dan shuffled on the bench, his shoes scuffing the gravel around.

“Well I’m talking to you,” Phil offered with a weak smile and some cheesy jazz hands, he listened with a brighter smile as Dan laughed again.

“Yeah you are,” Phil could hear the grin in Dan’s voice, “but that’s unusual.”

Phil laughed, leaning back on his hand and winking “That’s me, unusual Phil,” he grinned as Dan laughed quietly, his feet still shuffling the gravel floor.

“You own your originality though!” Dan complimented, Phil listened to the scuffles intently and guessed Dan was probably talking about the bright Steven Universe t-shirt he was wearing that day.

Phil shrugged with a chuckle, running a hand through his messy quiff, he was still adjusting to the new style but PJ assured him it was a definite improvement, “I guess so! Still, my originality has left me without a friend today until you,” he pointed out. Dan made a noise of agreement in the back of his throat, almost a huff.

“Works for me, it’s nice to have someone to talk to for once,” the other boy sighed, he sounded almost nostalgic, Phil wondered how long it had been since Dan made a friend. Perhaps he was a ‘one close friend’ person like Phil was, or maybe he was more of a ‘spread yourself around’ kind of guy. Phil suspected the former, Dan didn’t seem like a social butterfly.

“I can understand that,” he smiled warmly at the new boy, “So are you doing any of the Science subjects? I have a boring day and it would be nice to have someone in my class”

Dan responded almost immediately, “Yeah I have Psych second, with… Miss Mendie?”

Phil glowed with excitement, he had thought he would go lonely today but at least they shared one class together, “Me too!” he responded eagerly, hopefully not too eagerly.

That didn’t seem to be the case though as Dan sounded like he was bouncing as he responded, “Oh awesome! Here have a look at this and tell me if you’re in any of my other classes,” Phil listened as a bag unzipped and a piece of paper was thrust in his hands.

“O-oh I-” he started but Dan cut him off.

“Sorry it’s messy but I was in a rush when I got my timetable,” he chuckled. Phil wasn’t really sure how to respond, he looked down to his hands where he was holding the paper, how had Dan not noticed?

He opted for changing the topic instead, “It’s weird that you don’t have to go to that principal meeting,” Phil hummed, he thought of all the other new students who had joined the school over the course of the six years he had attended there, “Every other new student did.”

There was a long pause, a silence that stretched so long that Phil began to wonder if maybe Dan was miming something, or had just up and left, when suddenly an exclamation of, “OH SHIT” echoed through the courtyard. Dan must have been checking his phone, maybe emails? Or a text from his parents?

“I have to go to that! Fuck fuck fuck fuck thank you so much fuck fuck” Dan mumbled as he made a lot of scuffling noises, a zip of a bag made Phil realise he was getting up to leave, “Ah! My timetable! Did we have anything together aside from Psych?” Dan asked and Phil begun to stammer out an explanation when Dan interrupted again, “Nevermind sorry I have to go! I’m already late! I’ll see you in Psych?”

Phil laughed a little at the irony, calling out to the retreating footsteps, “See you then!”

~-~-~

To say Dan was having the best first day of his life would be the understatement of the century, he grinned to himself as he slipped into his seat first period. Still taken aback by the fact that he had managed to make a new friend within the first few minutes, something he had never achieved before. Even the teacher forcing him to stand and deliver an awkward introduction wasn’t enough to bring down his mood. Phil was one of the nicest people Dan had ever met, with laughing blue eyes and a bright smile he was the epitome of welcoming, combined with his friendly banter there was nothing Dan could be unhappy about.

There was something that confused him, the way Phil would occasionally look in slightly the wrong direction, and didn’t respond to any nodding or other non-verbal communication, but that wasn’t enough for Dan to really have any concerns, as he said, he rarely made new friends on the first day.

His hand twitched towards his phone, it was digging into his side through the side pocket in his jeans, “probably not the best impression to make on my new teachers,” he mumbled to himself as he opened his text book with a sigh. The urge to text Louise, his childhood friend from home, and tell her all about Phil was incredibly strong however. He opted instead to doodle horrifically drawn stick figures on the side of his page, keeping his ears listening to the teacher.

Mr Marshall was a balding thin man who appeared to ramble often and didn’t seem to notice students listening to music and chattering at the back of the classroom. He continued to drone on, and Dan felt his eyes grow hazy as he listened, man this guy was boring. He found himself thinking more about his interaction with Phil instead. The boy was a beacon of light, he had seemed ridiculously eager to invite Dan to sit with him, which was surprising since Dan figured someone as caring and fascinating as him should have had loads of friends. Not that Dan was complaining, he was more than happy to sit with Phil that lunch period, and as many in the future as he would be allowed in all honesty. In fact, he was already watching the clock in anticipation for the next period. Maybe it was the excitement, or the longing to talk to someone but the clock seemed to tick slower than usual.

Twenty minutes and thirty two seconds to go.

Thirty one seconds.

Thirty seconds…

~-~-~

Phil stared in the direction of the door, he could have sworn this was the class Dan had said they shared. Maybe he had heard wrong, it had happened rather quickly in the end, and Dan had showed him the timetable but Phil hadn’t had time to explain before the other boy had taken off to his meeting.

He shrugged and listened in interest as the class bustled around him, people scraping their chairs along the ground, presumably to chat with their friends before the teacher arrived. Chatter echoed around the room and Phil sat in silence, his fingers tracing shapes on the desk absentmindedly. He didn’t mind the silence, finding a familiar comfort in trying to differentiate between the voices of his peers, however with the uncomfortable voice in the back of his mind telling him that Dan was in the room but had decided sitting with the blind kid wasn’t worth it he was struggling to find his usual enjoyment.

He sighed in disappointment as the teacher announced her presence, hoping that maybe he had misheard Dan and they actually shared an English class, not a Psychology class. Deep in his mind he knew that he hadn’t misheard but he shoved that knowledge away and focused his attention on the class. Psychology was one of Phil’s favourite classes, his teacher was an energetic and fun lady who bounded around the room and made every part of the brain seem like an adventure with the way her booming voice excitedly told them new facts. PJ had informed Phil that she was a short lady, which amused Phil because she had so much energy he didn’t see how it could fit in a small person, she achieved it nonetheless.

“Alright you crazy kids who remembers what we learnt last lesson?” Miss Mendie asked and Phil smiled to himself, settling into his chair and trying to force his brain to forget about Dan, he still had PJ and that was enough for him.

As he accepted that thought there was a soft knock at the door, Phil listened as the class froze in their movements, presumably looking in the direction of the door as he now was. A murmur ran through the class, too quiet for Phil to hear what they were all saying but loud enough that he could hear the confusion in their tone. He huffed in frustration as he waited to be filled in, this was why he needed more friends.

“Alright alright you chatterboxes!” the teacher regained the attention of the class with ease, Phil could imagine her huge arm movements and bright smile as she silenced the classroom, “We have a new student joining our class! This is Daniel, or Dan?” She asked and Phil grinned as he realised his new friend had been late.

“Dan is fine,” Dan mumbled in his posh southern accent, and Phil tried to send him a reassuring smile, hoping it was in the correct direction.

He could hear the smile in Miss Mendie’s voice as she said, “Righto! Dan it is, be kind to him!” She said with a teasing lilt to her voice, Phil imagined her wagging a finger at them, “There’s an empty seat next to Mr Lester; Dan why don’t you pop there?”

The class continued to buzz, a soft murmur like the hum of a bee’s wings, Phil listened as Dan moved through the classroom, mumbling apologies and scraping past chairs. Waiting for the tell-tale scrape of a chair being pulled back and Dan collapsing into it with a “humph.”

Phil turned towards Dan and smiled at him reassuringly, being the new kid was hard enough Phil couldn’t imagine being late to a class on top of that, “Hi,” he whispered, taking the continued chatter of the class to mean Miss Mendie hadn’t resumed teaching.

“Hey,” Dan responded and Phil could hear the relieved smile in his voice, “seriously some of the teachers here can’t catch a hint fucking hell!”

Phil hummed in agreement as he twirled his pen in his fingers, unable to keep the relieved smile off his face that Dan was here, talking to him, ��Who did you have?”

Dan made a low groan noise that sent Phil into a fit of giggles, “Mr Marshall,” Phil snorted and he could feel Dan glaring at him, “Stop laughing he was so boring! Then he took me through everything you did this semester, as though I wasn’t at another school doing the same thing,” at this point Phil was laughing so hard he had to cover his face with his hand to hide his tongue poking through his teeth.

“Did he speak in third person?” Phil managed to get out between giggles, and Dan made a gagging noise in confirmation, Phil could imagine him pulling a face as he laughed.

There was a thump which Phil assumed was Dan’s head being smacked against the desk and a muffled, “Yes and it was so annoying, why does he do that?” Phil shrugged as Miss Mendie called the attention of the class back to her, sending Dan a smirk.

There was something so fascinating about spending the class with Dan, listening to his sarcastic comments under his breath that Phil was certain he believed no one could hear. He also drummed his pens against his leg, a soft pitter patter that took Phil around fifteen minutes to identify. When the class came to a close Dan made an awkward coughing noise, his tone completely different to what Phil had been expecting. Instead of the loud brash, almost excited, sounding voice Phil had adjusted to, Dan sounded soft and nervous, “Hey…”

Phil looked in the direction of his voice, his eyebrows furrowed in concern, “What’s up?” He could hear Dan fidgeting, his feet scuffing the carpet floor backwards and forwards.

“Did I do something?” Dan asked eventually after a long silence, “Everytime I try to tell you something in class, you completely ignore me. I understand if you don’t like me, it’s fine, but can you just tell me?”

Phil felt a pang of guilt as he listened to Dan, his voice was so small and insecure. He offered the boy a small smile and leaned down to his side, hand fumbling around for his cane, he could hear Dan start to walk away, clearly disappointed at his lack of response. With a click the cane flipped into its full length, revealing the long white stick that Phil used to navigate the school corridor. Phil frowned as Dan inhaled sharply and rapped the cane in the direction he heard the noise, he knew he hit his mark at the yelp Dan made in response.

“Don’t you dare feel guilty,” he stared at Dan pointedly, hoping he was glaring in the right direction.

“Jeez I can tick that off the bucket list…” Dan murmured after a few seconds of awkward silence, Phil could hear the small smile returning to his voice.

He cocked his head to the side slightly and moved the cane to the ground, feeling around for the edges of chairs, “What?”

“Get hit by a blind person’s cane,” Dan joked and Phil grinned, shaking his head he began to walk out of the classroom. He mimed ticking the air and his grin widened even further as Dan let out a loud peal of laughter. “You still ok with me sitting with you?” He asked, Phil could hear him walking along beside him, books clunking in his arms.

“Duh,” Phil rolled his eyes with a smirk as Dan let out a small whoop.

~-~-~

Dan could practically kick himself, it was so obvious! He watched as Phil’s cane glided along the hallway from side to side, informing him of potential threats and things to avoid. The way his eyes had quivered ever so slightly, always looking not quite at Dan exactly but slightly to the side, his lack of response when Dan didn’t say it verbally, he was so obviously blind that Dan felt like an absolute idiot. Admittedly Phil was the most upbeat person that Dan had ever met, his fun attitude and way he kept rapping Dan in the foot with his cane, was contagiously happy. He was clearly doing it on purpose, judging by the gleeful smile he had on his face. Dan shuffled along after Phil, his eyes scanning the unfamiliar halls as he followed the blind boy.

“So this here,” Phil pointed at the large opening where hundreds of students were gathering outside, “is the lunch area, we all sit around and some weird people play sport,” he nodded his heads towards the group of students kicking a football around their circle.

Dan nodded, his mind running a thousand miles a minute, “What do you do at lunch?” he asked curiously.

Students all around them were screaming and chatting, a group of boys all appeared to be working out together, winking at girls with every push up, Dan grimaced at the idea of it.

Phil shrugged, “Peej and I usually just talk, that’s my best friend by the way, he’s not here today. We sit over here, away from the football boys and the gym jerks.”

Phil slid onto a bench, snapping his cane into a smaller, more efficient size and laying it by his feet. He then turned towards Dan, his eyes ever so slightly looking to the left, “Okay fire away,” he delivered in a practised bored tone, a small nervous quirk in the corner of his lips.

Dan felt confusion wash over him, and he very eloquently responded with, “Huh?”

Phil shrugged again, scratching the back of his neck, “This isn’t my first time,” Dan’s cheeks heated at the intimate wording, “Everyone has questions and I’d like to get them over with now so we can be normal friends,” Phil continued leaving Dan in shocked silence.

“Oh… Were you born blind?” He finally asked, once the uncomfortable heaviness of the quiet seeped into him.

Phil shook his head, “I was in a bike accident when I was three, it destroyed my retinas and they couldn’t fix it,” Phil delivered the answer as though Dan had inquired about the weather, not his permanent vision loss, “I don’t remember a time where I wasn’t blind.”

“I’m so-” Dan begun, cutting off with a yelp as Phil kicked his leg out, striking him on the calf.

“Don’t apologise!” Phil glared at him, his striking blue eyes burning with stubbornness.

Dan shifted of the seat in discomfort, “right… Sorry,” he shuffled on the seat again as Phil chuckled at him.

“I don’t want you to apologise, it's the person I’ve always been and I’m happy with who I am,” he shrugged, eyes downturned despite not having to deal with awkward eye contact.

“Right… sorry,” he smiled slightly, kicking his legs back and forward to stop himself from being nervous, “so what’s your best friend like?”

Phil snorted, rolling his eyes to the sky, “He’s a dick but he’s also the best. His name’s PJ, we’ve been friends since nursery.”

“Woah, so did he meet you when you… when there was… when you were-” Dan fumbled for words.

“When I was already blind?” Phil supplied, a knowing laugh in his expression, Dan scratched at his arm in embarrassment.

He nodded before remembering Phil couldn’t see that, “erm yeah?”

Phil nodded, smirk still quirking his lips upward, “Yeah, but it never affected our friendship, that’s why we get along so well.” He seemed to say that pointedly, with the air of someone who had been disappointed by friends before, friends who treated him differently. Dan felt a surge of determination not to be like that. Phil was reeling Dan in, and he was okay with that.

“Well I don’t see why it should affect a friendship,” he said, and if his heart skipped a beat when Phil beamed at him, his whole face lighting up like a Christmas tree, he would never mention it.

~-~-~

5 YEARS OLD

Phil clung to the woman’s hand, it was sweaty and wrinkly, like the raisin his mum had found melting beside his bed because he hadn’t seen it. She had that same sickly sweet smell too, but Phil clung on anyway because he didn’t want to be left alone. He could hear the other kids shrieking with laughter and running around him, their feet making loud “boom boom” noises on the ground as they raced back and forth. He didn’t like school.

“Come on Philip, you can let go of me, I’ll be right here,” the old lady told him again, at least Phil assumed she was old, her words whistled a bit when she said them. He could imagine a hunched over old woman like the witch his brother described to him, with her raisin skin covering her whole face. The thought made him smile a little, he wished Martyn was here now.

He shook his head sharply, clutching her hand even tighter, ignoring the ugly squelch noise it made when he did that.

Suddenly a young British accent spoke up, “Why’re you holding onto her hand?” the kid asked, Phil jumped a little in shock, turning his head to try to locate the noise, “I’m here,” the voice said again and Phil swivelled slightly to face them.

“I’m scared,” Phil explained, his voice small as he ducked his head down.

The small voice made a “hmmmm” noise which bounced up and down as though they was nodding their head furiously, “You don’t need to be scared anymore,” the voice said with purpose - Phil’s dad had used that word and Phil liked it - “because I’m your friend now!”

There was a strange shuffle noise and then the kid said, “My name’s PJ!” there was a long pause that made Phil feel itchy and shy, before PJ spoke up again, “My mum said that when you hold your hand out people are meant to shake it, it’s how you make friends.”

Phil squeaked in fear as the old lady took her hand away from his and guided it towards a softer more squishy hand, the same size as his. PJ shook the hand and Phil smiled.

“This is Phil,” the lady said, she must’ve been telling PJ, “can I trust you to look after him?” Phil followed her voice and tried to hide the fear he was feeling, PJ let go of his hand and he felt lost. On an island in the middle of nowhere with nothing to show him where to go.

He let out a sigh of relief when his cane was placed in his hand, the long familiar metal comforting, he placed the large rubber ball on the ground and used it to locate PJ.

“Woah,” the word stretched out like a rubber band, “what’s that?” PJ asked, he sounded excited and Phil shuffled his foot back and forth in embarrassment.

“I’m blind,” he mumbled and when PJ made a noise of confusion he added, “I can’t see anything.”

Phil waited for the kid to run away, it had happened before, people who can’t see aren’t as much fun to play with. Instead PJ surprised him, one of the best surprises, like the bestest birthday present in the world, but not on his birthday, “That’s so cool!” PJ shrieked, making Phil jump backwards a little in shock, “You can’t see me at all?” Phil shook his head and PJ gasped in amazement, taking Phil’s hand in his, “That is actually awesome because that means I don’t have to play on the playground anymore, the playground is boring but you’re going to be my best friend.”

Phil followed in awe, tapping his ball along the ground to warn him of any possible dangers, PJ didn’t stop talking informing him of every little thing he couldn’t see, “There’s Melanie, she has poofy red hair and it’s amazing, oh wait you don’t know colours ummmmm, well her hair is like the taste of strawberry.”

~-~-~

PRESENT DAY

Phil woke up to a loud banging on his door, he groaned and rolled over. The bangs formed a familiar pattern, PJ’s morning knock, Phil sighed heavily and smushed the pillow over his head. “Go away!” He yelled, the noise muffled by the cushion of the pillow.

He heard PJ snort, “Are you decent?” was the only response and Phil groaned again.

“I’m only wearing boxers but- and you opened the door” he sighed, pressing the pillow further into his face, “leave me be, I’m wallowing in my pain.”

PJ laughed, leaping onto the bed and jostling his best friend, “Come on lazy pants, we’re going to be late again,” he said, very unsympathetically. Phil growled low in his throat and pulled the duvet over his head. PJ poked him in the side relentlessly, a cheeky laugh adorning his annoyance.

“Leave m’alone” he grumbled, voice scratchy and deep from sleepiness. PJ continued mashing his finger into Phil’s sensitive points, his stomach, neck, back, basically wherever could be accessed. Phil let out a loud huff, kicking his legs upward as he sat up, opening his eyes finally and mocking a loud gasp of shock, “Peej, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you!”

Peej sighed heavily in response, making Phil smirk at his joke, “Never gets old buddy, come on get ready, we’re gonna be late.” He shoved Phil off the bed, Phil stumbled slightly, reaching instinctively for his cane before pouting at his best friend.

“No really mate, I think you’re going grey, I can definitely see some grey hairs there.” Phil smiled to himself as he finally managed to coax a laugh out of PJ. He ran his hand along the clothes, feeling for the familiar scratchy material of his uniform.

PJ flopped back on the bed, creating a whoomph sound, “Have you looked in the mirror recently?” Phil laughed, finally pulling his uniform out of the closet.

“Alright get out of here, you dick,” he waited until PJ closed the door behind himself with a clunk before he stripped off his pajama pants.

Almost twenty minutes later Phil slid into PJ’s car, folding his cane as he buckled the seatbelt, “We’re going to get there right on time,” PJ huffed, the car shifting into drive with a groan of pain. Phil shrugged, pretending to look out the window with an air of nonchalance.

“You’re trying to look all cool and mysterious but you’re not turning your head enough so you’re just staring at the wall of the car,” PJ snickered, “So what happened when I was away yesterday?”

Phil sighed returning his head to the direction of his friend with a grin, “I made a friend!”

PJ made a strangled disbelieving noise, his hand flicking the indicator, “We’re pulling into the carpark,” he dictated, after thirteen years together he knew his best friend well, “no way, I don’t believe you.”

“I did!” Phil gasped at the insinuation he couldn’t make friends, holding a hand to his heart as though he had been shot, “How dare you! I made friends with you didn’t I?” He pointed out and frowned at Peej’s snort of laughter as the car chugged to a heavy stop, “You need a new car,” he added while feeling for his seatbelt.

“First of all, how dare you Betty is the best thing in my life. Secondly, sure when we were five, and technically I adopted the sad, blind, kid.” The door slammed shut as PJ exited the vehicle, Phil pulled a face before following.

“You didn’t adopt me, and I did make a friend, his name is Dan,” they marched into the school, the bell echoing around their heads.

PJ made an impressed noise, taking Phil by the elbow, “Come on slowpoke, if we don’t get moving we’re gonna be even later,” he pulled them forward and around the halls.

~-~-~

Dan tapped his pen against his leg methodically, his palms slick with sweat, as his eyes scanned for Phil. He had seen him earlier, being tugged along by a dark haired boy with an uncanny resemblance to Dan himself, albeit more tan. They had marched past and seeing the boy, obviously PJ, Dan had frozen in fear, unable to speak up. He was semi grateful that Phil himself was blind and therefore hadn’t seen him, Dan the deer, staring into the headlights with statue like shock. What if PJ didn’t like him? Phil was, something else entirely, his own category of perfect.

Dan stifled thoughts of soft dark hair, eyes as blue as the sky, and a blinding bright smile. It wasn’t the first time Dan had gotten a crush, definitely not the first boy either, but that didn’t mean he was going to allow it to progress. Phil was his only friend in this school, hell, in this town, he wasn’t throwing that away with a stupid crush, no matter how beautiful he was, so very very beautiful… He shook his head to regain his thoughts, returning his eyes to their mission of locating Phil. He knew if he wanted to keep sitting with his friend this lunch he would need to spot him himself.

His eyes finally snapped on familiar dark hair and pale skin, Dan felt his heart tug towards him and he felt the urge to punch it, no feelings, he chastised.

“Hi Phil!” He called out as he jogged over, a pang of joy buzzing through him as Phil turned towards him with a bright grin, sightless eyes staring just slightly over his shoulder. PJ stared at him with an expression Dan struggled to read, it seemed to flicker between surprise, wariness, analytical and excitement.

“Dan!” Phil exclaimed, his arm grappling behind him before gripping onto PJ and tugging him forward, Dan almost laughed at the shock on PJ’s face, but didn’t want to make that his first impression on the boy, “This is PJ, the best friend I was talking about,” Phil introduced.

PJ turned to Phil with a laugh, “We’re best friends? How’d I get stuck with you?” He teased, eyes glinting mischievously, Phil rolled his eyes, shoving PJ in the arm.

“Shut up you dick and meet our new friend,” suddenly Phil’s eyes darted over to Dan nervously, “you do want to be our friend right? I didn’t read this wrong? I do that sometimes and I-” Dan cut him off.

“Stop, yes I want to be your friend, I would… I would love it,” he tugged on his arm and stared at Phil and then PJ who was staring at him with that same expression. He stuck out his hand towards PJ, “I’m Dan.”

PJ’s expression softened slightly, although he still looked as though he was scanning Dan, picking apart the different fidgets and quirks of his soul, from the small curl that circled his ear, to the way his teeth were toying with his lip. Finally he took Dan’s hand, a smirk quirking at his lips, “PJ,” he said simply. Phil furrowed his eyebrows in PJ’s general direction - off by a few centimetres - before turning to Dan.

“So you happy to sit with us?” Dan made a humming noise of agreement, “Awesome! I just need to duck to the bathroom, I’ll meet up with you guys in a second,” he walked away, cane gliding along the ground and smile lighting up the corridor.

Dan only realised he was staring after him when PJ coughed, an amused smile pulling at his cheeks, “You ‘right there?” he asked, the smile turning more into a smirk as Dan’s cheeks flared up.

“Wha- yeah, yeah… I’m, I’m fine pfft I don’t know what… what, you’re talking about?” He stumbled over the words, tripping and slipping on them like a giraffe in the rainforest. PJ laughed softly, beckoning for Dan to follow him.

He had this aura around him that screamed, ‘don’t fuck with me but also dork is my middle name’, which was honestly more intimidating than a normal don’t fuck with me kind of guy.

“Now,” PJ begun and Dan scrambled to fall in pace with him, “Phil can hold his own, he may be blind but that doesn’t stop him being the greatest guy ever. He deserves real friends, and he seems to like you,” Dan blushed further at that, PJ raised an eyebrow knowingly, “and from what I can tell you like him too. So don’t be a dick basically,” he summed up, falling down on the same bench Dan and Phil had sat at the day prior.

Dan nodded, avoiding eye contact, “I won’t, I really like Phil,” PJ was staring at him, Dan could feel his eyes burning into the top of his head.

“Alright then, now you should know that I am basically Phil’s eyes, any faces you pull at him, any crazy bed head, I’ll let him know.”

Dan nodded in understanding, his fingers toying with a piece of string hanging off his uniform, “I’m not going to take advantage of him in any way,” he promised. PJ smiled brightly, any intimidating factor he might have had gone and replaced with a cheeky eyebrow raise, “also just because Phil’s blind doesn’t mean I can’t see you goggling,” he teased, leaning back as Phil made his way over, chatting to people politely, but Dan could see the uncomfortable wall he put forward, like a line of defence that he had never shown around Dan.

“Erm no thanks Emily, my taste isn’t exclusively blind people you know?” Phil chuckled awkwardly, chewing on the side of his mouth visibly. The girl, Emily Dan guessed, shrugged carelessly her blonde bob bouncing around her shoulders.

“If you say so!” She chirped cheerily, “Let me know if you change your mind!” Phil nodded, his face screwed up in discomfort as he continued walking towards Dan and PJ.

PJ sighed, rolling his eyes, “Emily at it again? Watch the rock,” He instructed as Phil’s cane swept past a rock unknowingly, Dan watched the two friends curiously. They had a natural comfort with each other, leaning into the familiarity like they had been doing it their whole life, and Dan supposed, they had. Phil sidestepped the rock with a clear trust, and shrugged, “She doesn’t seem to get that I don’t want to date her cousin,” he smiled in Dan’s general direction, “You’ll meet Emily eventually, she has a desperation to match everyone up and she’s decided her blind cousin is perfect for me. I’ve never even met the girl, not to mention she’s a girl,” he turned back to PJ at the end, clearly this was a discussion they had had many times before, judging by PJ’s knowing snort.

“You’re not ready to start seeing all the ladies Philly?” PJ teased, Dan froze in shock, turning to watch Phil’s reaction. There was a pause, before Phil groaned, throwing his head back and allowing the groan to morph into laughter.

“Yeah I don’t know they just don’t really catch my eye,” he grinned, clearly proud of himself for the guffaw of laughter that erupted from PJ.

He nodded proudly, a smirk twisting his mouth, “Nice one mate,” Dan was aware of his mouth hanging open in surprised laughter. He knew Phil was comfortable with his blindness, but he hadn’t realised PJ and him joked about it so openly.

Phil seemed to remember Dan was there and turned towards him, face still scrunched up with laughter and a hint of tongue poking through his teeth. A breath of air whooshed through him, swooping through his stomach and up into his chest, tingling like a soft drink had replaced his blood but warm like coffee. One thought pulsed in his mind, sending the blood in his veins pumping until it rushed in his ears.

Shit I have a crush on Phil.

~-~-~

Phil leaned over to PJ, the class chattered away around them, supposedly doing private study but for all Phil could hear it wasn’t likely. He tapped the table to get his friend’s attention, struggling to judge the gap between their two heads.

“What’s up?” Peej asked, Phil could hear his pen still scratching away at the paper, making notes for the lesson.

He wiggled his eyebrows, nudging PJ’s shoulder, “What’s he look like?” he could hear PJ snicker under his breath, this was a well rehearsed conversation they had every time Phil met someone particularly interesting.

“Who?” PJ asked with an faux innocence, Phil could practically see the laugh twisting his mouth. He groaned, nudging PJ with his side and snickering at the insulted gasp his best friend let out in response.

“Dan!” He hissed, raising his eyebrows to accentuate the point and making a big show of pretending to look around to check for eavesdroppers, “Is he as cute as he sounds?”

PJ was still laughing under his breath but Phil hurt the pencil clatter to the table so he knew he had won, “Yes he’s got curly brown hair that perfectly shapes his face, like seriously he’s exactly your type, perfect hair for curling through your fingers,” Phil felt his cheeks warm as PJ nudged him in the side knowingly. He was trying to deny the crush that was already developing on Dan, but it was hard when he was just so funny, Phil felt his whole body relax whenever he was around him, like Dan contained a soothing presence in his voice. PJ knew him better than anyone in the world, he knew exactly what Phil liked in a person.

“He has a really sharp jawline like damn,” PJ continued, Phil could hear his knowing smile, he was aware of the way Phil’s heart skipped at that knowledge.

“So essentially he’s perfect?” Phil sighed, slumping forward in his seat until his chin was resting on his hands. PJ huffed a laugh and Phil felt his hand pat Phil on the shoulder.

There was a pause before PJ said, “In terms of your type, yeah mate he’s perfect.”

Phil groaned in defeat, “I really like him,” he jutted out his bottom lip, “He’s so funny and easy to be around. It’s only been a day of knowing him, am I too cheesy?”

“Stop spiralling,” PJ commanded, flicking Phil on the ear to stop the thoughts, “Dan seems like a nice person,” a smirk made its way into PJ’s voice, “Why don’t you ask him to the formal?”

Phil gaped at his best friend, or at least he let his mouth hang open in plain sight, "Ask him to formal?" He confirmed and at PJ's hum let out a guffaw of laughter, "Are you completely mad?" At PJ's lack of response he plowed onwards, "Not only does that set me up for potential and likely rejection, but I could lose the second true friend I've made in my entire life!" He realised he was shouting and lowered his voice, "I like Dan..."

PJ sighed heavily, the noise was loud and laced with an assumed slump of the shoulders, "I think he likes you too Phil, not just as a friend either. You can't see it, but you're an attractive dude and Dan looks like he is interested."

Phil allowed this information to seep into his skin, he didn't want to get his hopes up but at the same time, that little shred of hope was tickling its way into his heart. There was just one problem, "He's probably straight," Phil groaned.

PJ laughed loudly, a proper heavy spout of laughter which caused murmurs throughout the rest of the class and forced Phil to look up from where he had slumped into his hands.

"He isn't straight buddy," Peej assured him, laughter still weaving its way through his words, "He is so definitely not straight."

So maybe he had a chance? The idea was almost two nice to imagine.

~-~-~

Dan found himself staring at Phil far more than he should be, his eyes seemed to be constantly drawn to the black haired boy. Especially his eyes, those sparkling blue eyes that couldn't see him staring, except PJ could and Dan was almost positive he was smirking at him. He drew his eyes back to his lunch with great difficulty, it was as though they were glued to Phil.

"I'm going to go get a drink," PJ informed the two, Dan had begun to pick up on this habit of announcing his doings so Phil never had to guess. Nothing to do with Phil's blindness was ever a big thing, it was always just slipped into conversation as a joke, or little actions that Dan and PJ would complete to make things easier.

If Dan was honest he was a little bit jealous of how at ease together PJ and Phil were, he was desperate to have that kind of ease and relaxation with another person. They just had this natural rhythm that they followed. Dan had noticed PJ describing funny situations that he was watching, Phil nodding along in amusement, it wasn't something either of them mentioned or talked about, but it happened all the same.

"So Dan..." Phil mumbled, Dan turned to him in surprise, Phil looked shy. His head was turned downwards towards the ground, as though he was trying to use it to gather courage, and his eyebrows were knitted in focus.

When Phil didn't continue his sentence Dan spoke up, "Yes?" he prompted.

Phil's mouth opened and closed nervously and Dan realised he was probably staring at his lips a little too much, he diverted his attention to his eyes - which probably wasn't much better.Phil mumbled something so quietly Dan only heard a hum of noise, "Pardon?" He asked and smiled as his friend's cheeks turned an adorable shade of red. Could Phil be called just a friend in his mind? None of his friends made him as flustered as Phil did.

He was thrown out of this train of thought by Phil repeating his question a little louder, "Do you want to go to formal with me?"

The world seemed to screech to a stop, "As a friend?" He asked to confirm, Phil looked even more embarrassed now, his cheeks were so red he could rival a tomato.

"It could be more than that... if you wanted I mean?"

This couldn’t be real, Dan could barely allow himself to even humour the situation, he must be dreaming, or misunderstanding. They’ve only been friends for a couple of weeks, and sure Dan had developed a crush on Phil almost instantaneously but that was irrelevant. There was no way Phil would do the same for Dan, not when Dan’s personality was so, well, lacking.

“Uh sorry, have I read this situation wrong?” Dan snapped out of his shocked state by Phil speaking again. He was shuffling from foot to foot, unseeing eyes downturned and embarrassed.

Dan stumbled over his words hurriedly, “No ah sorry I just- I just got shocked u-um,” he hesitated, unsure whether he was understanding what Phil meant correctly [CONT’ LATER]

~-~-~

Phil sat in the change room, brushing his feet backwards and forwards along the carpet, his sneakers trying to grip as he tried to relieve some awkardness.

“Okay so we want matching but not too matching?” Dan confirmed as he re-entered the change room, Phil listened as the curtain swished open and then closed again.

He nodded in confirmation, smiling softly as at least four hangers clinked onto the rack.

“Close your eyes,” Dan mumbled, and if the rustling of material was anything to go by he was taking off his shirt.

Phil let out a loud bark of laughter, “Seems unnecessary,” he smirked and relished in the sound of Dan’s bubbly laugh, despite being muffled from the inside of a shirt.

Phil closed his eyes anyway as his… friend? Boyfriend? As Dan emerged from the depths of his shirt, “It feels weird either way,” he pointed out and Phil shrugged.

“I don’t mind,” he replied easily, pretending that if he couldn’t see the blush steadily rising up his face then Dan couldn’t either; he shouldn’t be thinking about how beautiful Dan probably looked. No, he wasn’t thinking about it, yes that should work.

“Okay so it fits me nicely but I think it’s a weird colour?” Dan mused, his feet scuffing the carpet as he turned from side to side, “It’s like a blue-ish grey, probably would suit you more.”

Phil hummed in response, opening his eyes to more black, “What did you get as the matching one?” Dan shuffled around, clicking the hangers together as he moved the other suits out of the way.

“It’s a darker blue, with grey highlights,” he told Phil.

Phil hummed in thought, taking the suit from Dan’s long fingers and holding it against his body, turning to show Dan the colouring, “You like?”

There was a strange hiccup noise, in between a gasp and a cough, “I like… um uh yeah I like very much,” Dan mumbled, Phil could practically hear the blush echoing through his words. He smirked and swished his hips slightly just to listen to the catch in Dan’s breath.

“Mmm okay sounds good,” he shooed Dan out of the room while he undid the buttons on the linen shirt, “I’ll try it on and show you,” he explained at Dan’s noises of protest.

From outside the curtain he could hear Dan grumble, “Why did you get to stay in the room?”

Phil snorted as he poked his head through the collar of the shirt, rolling his unseeing eyes to himself, “Because I can’t see you,” he offered and Dan huffed, trying to sound annoyed, but Phil could hear him chuckling.

Once he had fully dressed he stepped out of the change room with a flourish of his arms, throwing his head back dramatically. His smile widened further as he listened to the surprised bark of laughter Dan made at his antics.

“That really suits you,” Dan said softly, like he was speaking through a gasp, and then there was a pause before he snickered and mumbled, “suits you.”

Phil groaned, smacking Dan gently and rolling his eyes yet again, “That’s awful, never speak to me again.”

Just at that moment a pair of heels clacked into the room and Phil heard Dan swivel to face whoever was entering.

“Are you boys alright in here?” Someone asked; who Phil assumed was a shop assistant, “Those suits look amazing on you, are you trying to match your dates?”

The air seemed to be electrocuted with uncomfortable energy, “Uh,” was Dan’s eloquent response. Phil scratched at his neck awkwardly, he could feel a blush spreading across his cheeks.

How could they answer that question? Dan wasn’t his boyfriend or anything, if anything this suit shopping was a first date, a trial run, but he wasn’t sure how comfortable Dan was with being gay. Whether he felt safe enough to tell strangers or not, Phil certainly preferred to keep it to himself where possible.

Finally Dan spoke up with the most reasonable answer, “Yeah but these ones are perfect so we don’t need any help,” he sounded confident but Phil had a feeling that was an act. Was the hitch mid sentence just Phil’s imagination?

“Oh alright,” the assistant sounded almost disappointed but her shoes click clacked out of the room either way.

As soon as she rounded the corner Phil heard Dan dissolve into laughter, it escaped his mouth in loud wheezes, “That was perfect,” he snickered until Phil couldn’t help but laugh with him.

~-~-~

Dan pulled at the collar of his shirt, he squinted at himself in the mirror and shuffled the jacket around until it was a semblance of smooth; or rather slightly less wrinkled than before. His curly hair was slightly tamed into a fringe across his pale forehead. He certainly didn’t look bad.

But will Phil agree? His mind supplied.

“It doesn’t matter what I look like Phil can’t see it anyway,” he chastised his brain and fiddled with his hair a little more. Two raps on the frame of his door alerted Dan to his father’s presence before he was entering the room with a good humoured chuckle, “Stop fussing with your hair it looks great,” He instructed, pulling Dan’s wrist away so his hand was no longer mussing with the fringe.

Dan pouted at his dad and shifted on his toes nervously, “Do I look okay?”

His dad smiled proudly at him, straightening the suit so it sat nicer across Dan’s shoulders, “You look amazing,” he replied, genuine kindness laced through his words, “Now let’s get going before you’re late.”

The venue was incredible, how their school had managed to book a place like this was beyond Dan. Nothing was more amazing than Phil in that suit they picked though, he was standing with PJ, quiff too perfectly done to have been executed by the dark haired boy. They were laughing and Dan felt his heart skip two beats as Phil stuck his tongue between his teeth, blue eyes glinting and standing out against the grey colour of the suit.

He took a deep breath and walked towards the two boys, raising his hand to wave at them and grinning when PJ locked eye contact with him. He mumbled something to Phil and then Dan had that blinding smile facing him (almost facing him anyway).

“Hi,” Dan mumbled as he reached them, feeling a blush seep across his face as Phil intertwined their fingers with an enchanting smile.

PJ nodded with a smirk, “Hi dude,” he offered a one handed salute of greeting, “How’re you doing?”

Dan shrugged, squeezing Phil’s hand a little tighter, “I’m good,” he replied before correcting himself, “Excited.”

Phil tugged his hand gently to get Dan’s attention, Dan blushed heavier to find those unseeing blue eyes already looking at him, “It’s going to be okay,” Phil reassured him.

“I know,” Dan smiled back, stepping a little bit closer.

They walked in as a group when PJ’s date arrived, the inside of the ballroom was even more lavish than the exterior. The tall ceiling decorated with cherubs and flower petals, hundreds of students from their school danced across the white polished floor.

He found himself describing the room to Phi in all its’ glory as they walked in, it wasn’t even something he thought about anymore; only realising he was doing it when PJ smiled gratefully at him. He could almost imagine Peej handing him the final key, full trust of Dan to look after Phil, and that Phil would be there for him in return.

He smiled to himself, hoping Phil didn’t notice the slight stutter in his words as he thought about asking Phil to be his boyfriend

~-~-~

The night had been going incredibly, Phil couldn’t help but feel relaxed and safe with Dan. He wasn’t usually a massive fan of social gatherings like formals, because he felt guilty for keeping PJ from socialising. Dan was different, he didn’t really want to spend time with anyone else, he seemed content laughing and dragging Phil all around the room. Describing the horrific suits and dresses some of their classmates were wearing, telling Phil about the few successful fashion choices.

At some point they had made their way to a photo-booth, which was a total disaster but Dan had made this adorably soft gasp when he saw the photos and murmured, “We look really cute together,” so that was worth it.

After four hours they were huddled in the corner of the room, Dan was counting how many girls had taken their shoes off, cuddled into Phil’s chest and tracing circles on his knee.

“Be my boyfriend?” Phil blurted out, he felt Dan still on his lap, muscles tensing. A wave of regret washed over him, he was too sudden, Dan wasn’t ready, he was a disaster-

His train of thought was cut off by soft, chapped lips pressing against his temple and a soft voice whispering, “Yes please.”

Phil turned his head until he was sure he was facing Dan, “Okay,” he grinned, excitement tingling in his veins and cheeks flushed with nerves.

“Can I kiss you?” Dan asked, and Phil’s cheeks burned further still, he had to hope that Dan was just as flushed as he was.

“Yes please,” Phil replied, echoing Dan’s earlier sentiment , it felt like they were in a tiny bubble, the noise of their classmates and the music playing through the venue faded away as a gentle hand cupped Phil’s cheek. He felt those same lips press to his so gently it was like a feather brushing against them, he pushed forward, slotting them together until they were pushing and pulling together. Soft presses, harder, drawn out, sharp, the feeling left him dizzy and elated. They kissed until both of them were blinded with love.

#dan #phil #phan #dnp #phandom #phandom big bang #phandom big bang 2018 #blind #blind au #blind character #first kiss #pining #fluff #asking out #awkward boys

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eldritchsurveys · 5 years

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181.

Have you ever been bullied because of the things you like? >> Yeah, that was the problem with having special interests as an adolescent, before I learned how to keep them to myself instead of wearing my entire heart on my sleeve.

Have you bullied others because they like things you do not? >> I don’t think I’ve ever done that, unless it was during one of my asshole phases.

Do you hold grudges? >> I usually don’t, but there are a couple of exceptions. I don’t think of them as grudges as much as “I need to remember this person did this thing and how terrible it was, or else I’ll let them or someone else get away with that same shit”.

Are there things which you simply cannot forgive? >> I mean, maybe. I don’t really think about it much.

Did you like any books you had to read for school? >> The only one I recall enjoying was Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston. I actually reread it recently and I still think it’s wonderful.

Were there any classes you enjoyed because of the teacher? >> I had a Chemistry class that I enjoyed the teacher for.

Were there any classes you hated because the teacher was so mean? >> I had a lot more classes like this than like the previous question.

Did you have to do the mile run in school? >> Maybe. I probably just took the fail.

Was there a dress code at your school? How did you feel about it? >> The Catholic schools I went to as a child had uniforms, but I don’t remember caring.

Have you ever been a bad friend? >> Oh, probably. I’m not very knowledgeable about what makes a good one even now, so it’s highly likely I’ve never been a good one.

Have you ever distanced yourself from somebody because you were afraid of getting hurt? >> It’s possible, since that’s such a common trauma response.

Have you ever just tolerated somebody because you had a mutual friend? >> Yeah.

Have you ever felt that somebody just tolerated you because of a mutual friend? >> I don’t recall, but that’s possible.

Has a friend ever replaced you with somebody else? >> I don’t think so.

Have you ever disliked something just because it was popular? >> Yeah, before I figured out that was a pretty juvenile way to go about things.

Have you ever been embarrassed to admit you liked something popular? >> Yeah, because people can be such prats about it. But I refuse to let shame win.

Have you ever watched a movie just because it starred an actor you liked? >> Absolutely. A classic example that Sparrow still makes fun of me for is the fact that I sat through Magic Mike because of Matthew McConaughey (who wasn’t even the star!).

Have you found some really bad movies that way? >> Ha, obviously.

What about just because it starred an actor you thought was good-looking? >> Oh, to be honest, that Venn diagram (between actors I think are good and actors I think are good-looking) is actually a circle.

Are there actors/musicians you have met? >> I’ve met one actor (Julianne Moore) and like 20 semi-famous to famous musicians.

Any actors/musicians whose work you enjoy but who you dislike as people? >> Absolutely. Which is why I’m glad I don’t have to live with them or anything. I just get to enjoy the fruits of their better nature.

Or does disliking them as people make it hard for you to enjoy their work? >> Nah. It’s a valid dilemma, seeing as one’s art is often informed by both their better and their worse nature, so it’s difficult to separate the artist from their own art. But it’s not really a moral dilemma I personally have.

Have you seen Citizen Kane? If so, did you like it, or is it overrated? >> Never seen it. But those... aren’t opposite reactions. Not liking a movie doesn’t mean it’s overrated, and liking it doesn’t mean it’s not overrated, either.

What about Casablanca? >> Never seen it.

What, in your opinion, is the best crime show? >> I don’t know, I don’t watch them.

Do you let the internet influence your opinion of popular musicians or do you listen to them yourself before forming an opinion? >> I really don’t care what the popular opinion about some musician is. Discussions about them can be interesting sometimes (I like Wisecrack’s videos about Kanye West, for example) but otherwise, meh.

Do you ever judge people based on the music they listen to? >> I don’t even know what judgements I would make, aside from something like “a person that listens to a lot of country music probably lives in the country” (which is obviously not always true, but it’s a logical jump to make).

Who was your first favorite band/artist? >> Pearl Jam, I think, but the first real special interest I had for a band was with Fuel.

What would you say are your top five bands/artists? >> I wouldn’t even begin to try.

What about your top five music albums? >> See above.

Do you remember the first album you ever owned? >> Yeah, it was Something Like Human by Fuel. I stole it from a Walmart.

Do you still use an mp3 player, or just your phone? >> I use my phone.

Do you like Elton John? >> I think he’s great!

How do you feel about Taron Egerton playing him in the upcoming biopic? >> It’s a fine idea to me. I totally forgot that was coming out until you mentioned it, though.

What biopics do you think are the best? >> I don’t know, I haven’t seen too many. Most of the ones I’ve seen were all right. I really liked Walk the Line.

Have you ever felt "hipster" about anything? (^^ As in "I liked it before it was cool") >> Yeah, like local bands and shit.

Do you ever choose books based on the cover art? >> Occasionally.

Is it hard for you to decide what to read? >> Yeah, because there are so many options. Indecision paralysis, you know.

What books (if any) have you read multiple times? >> I’ve read several Stephen King books at least twice.

Who would you consider your "go-to" author? >> Stephen King. Also, Poppy Z Brite.

Which piece of classic literature is your favorite? >> The Picture of Dorian Gray, probably. Another book I’ve read more than once.

What ten books have always stuck with you? >> The Fountainhead, Lost Souls by PZB, At Swim, Two Boys by Jamie O’Neill, Stranger in a Strange Land, Cosmos, The Phantom Tollbooth, A Wrinkle in Time, Skellig by David Almond, Dark Lover by JR Ward, and Dreamcatcher by Stephen King.

What ten fictional characters have always stuck with you? >> Oh, the previous question was hard enough, give me a break.

Have any celebrity deaths hit you hard? Which one(s)? >> Yeah, David Bowie kinda sucked. I mean, it’s not particularly the death itself that got to me -- man was old, ok, and he knew it was coming so it didn’t seem like an unfair thing -- but like... I don’t know. Just the full measure of his influence on me really came to light after that.

#surveys #survey #random survey

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xt1erminator-blog · 7 years

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My History With D&D: How I Got Started

This should have been my introductory post on this blog, but, lazy.

It was a dark and stormy night.

No really, it was a dark and stormy night. I'm not just pretending to be Snoopy writing a novel. Anyhow, I recall being over at an elementary school friend's house for a sleep over I believe. Must have been 10 or 11 years old. There were three or four of us, and my friend, we'll call him Willy, was Dungeon Master. I had no actual playing experience before this night (the only time I had run into this strange game was several years earlier when I was over at the neighbour's house and their much older teenage kids were sitting around the kitchen table with their friends, the table cluttered with big books and weird shaped pieces of plastic and small metal figurines, and bottles and cans of pop and chips and all sorts of delicious looking junk food... it was similar to that scene in E.T. where the kids are playing D&D [not the photo above! - that’s from Freaks & Geeks] except it was daytime). And here I was now, sitting in a camper trailer in the middle of a big thunder/rain storm being shown how to make something called a "character". I have no recollection what race or class this character was, or his name. I do remember though that he used a mace as his weapon and wore chainmail, and had iron rations. Maybe he was a cleric. I think it was red box Basic D&D we were playing.

I think I might have played a total of two or three games at Willy's place. Mostly with the same other friends playing it each time. The last game we played was using the 1st Edition AD&D rule books, and it was way over my head at the time. I remember stealing money from my paper route collections (which were probably due at the end of the week) and buying my own red box Basic D&D set and some dice, and I played the solo adventure for awhile (damn rust monster!) and then just hid out in the basement with a stack of graph paper, and drew out dungeon after dungeon after dungeon. They all sucked, I’m sure. I think the next major book purchase was the 2nd Edition Player's Handbook. And then the Monstrous Manual binder. Man, I hated that binder. What an awful format. I mean, great for organizing, being able to take out monster sheets and add in new ones, etc. but functionality-wise, it was a disaster. The binder didn't sit well with the other books on a shelf and whatever lamination they used for the exterior of the cover got very scuffed up if you put it in a backpack and it looked like ass in no time flat. The good old days. I would borrow other books and modules from anyone who was willing to let me take them away from them for any length of time, and sit there and read parts of them, mostly paying attention to the cool maps and the artwork. I remember photocopying many a module at the public library too.

So for several years after, I would mostly just read the books, and Dragon and Dungeon magazines, and attempt to create my own maps and even once or twice spent some money on miniatures and tried to paint them. Massive fail. If I would have know that the Ral Partha Forgotten Realms Heroes miniatures set I bought for $15 back in the late 80's/early 90's (whenever it was) would be worth hundreds of dollars almost 30 years later, I would have taken greater care with how much primer I carelessly sprayed on to those poor little figures, getting the shit all over my dad’s workshop tool bench (sorry Wulfgar, Drizzt, Dragonbait, Alias, etc.!) and how much paint I recklessly slapped on to them thinking I was doing things right. Ouch.

I tend to ramble so I'll try to summarize everything else up until now with a bit less detail. After elementary school came high school and there wasn't a lot of action when it came to playing Dungeons & Dragons, well with cool people I mean. There was a small group at the first high school I attended, that would play a game in the art room in the lower level of the school. I sat in once, maybe twice, to check it out. Wasn't my bag. These were the stereotypical super geeky, taped-up-eyeglasses nerds that were more interested in dissecting the rules and not playing with any real imagination it seemed. They were kind of like robots. Plus, not very fun when you have 45 minutes for a lunch break to try and make any progress in an adventure. I heard about others in this school who played, but I was never invited to go play in anyone's campaign. I stopped in a few times to see what was going on with another friend's home game, but didn't end up playing because they were a little too into roleplaying. Most of the playing I did happened later in my teenage years when I ended up playing in late night sessions with some older seniors at another school I went to, and then some games here and there with a bunch of fellows who have since turned out to be what you might call "life long friends". The good guys. Then, in my early 20's, I was the first of anyone I knew to do something incredibly stupid: meet a girl on the internet (1997), marry her and move to another country.

From that point on, I guess I lost interest in the hobby. I had always wanted to run my own game, but no opportunities ever arose, or I didn't have anywhere to play or I was just too on edge to be able to compose myself if a game were to actually take formation. I spent a lot of my time learning how to play musical instruments and often partied. Often. I don't regret it, those were some of the best times I've had. Years passed and I really didn't think about D&D or playing any sort of table top game at all. I grew more fond of digital entertainment, PC games, console games, etc. I ended up attempting to become somewhat of a "photographer", and after many years I think I'm happy with where I am at with that particular hobby. It was one of those things you never thought to pursue and then one day, you end up spending several hundred dollars on a friend's used DSLR body and a strange, big zoom lens you have no clue how to use properly.

After almost six years and a "should have seen that one coming" style divorce, I returned back home and was again surrounded by my long time friends. It took a little bit of adjustment to get back into the circle with everyone - just picking up and leaving the country when you're 22 years old and supposed to be starting to explore your options for a career and everything, can kind of make a mess of your social connections. I ended up getting back on my feet pretty quickly though, and found work a month and a half after coming home. I'm still there actually, almost 15 years later.

So, how did I reconnect with my beloved hobby? It was almost two years ago or so (summer of 2015, I don't know if Tumblr dates these blog posts, I don't think so). My wife's step brothers had asked if she knew anyone who had ever played Dungeons & Dragons. She mentioned to them that I did. She asked on their behalf if I would run a game for them, they were curious and hadn't played before. I declined, no way no how. Been out of touch with it for years. Didn't play anymore. Made up some excuses. Left it at that. I had never run my own games before and had no confidence that I could be very effective when trying to introduce newcomers in to the game.

Then, at the end of that summer, another opportunity arose. Some mutual friends/family expressed interest in trying out the new 5th Edition of Dungeons & Dragons. They had been watching Critical Role online and somehow it came up in discussion. I had spent the last few months recalling my love for the game from my past, and ended up being much more receptive to the idea. I was much older, had been through a lot of situations in my life where things like social interaction was easier for me to become comfortable with, and I was developing a passion for it again, it seemed. After downloading the free basic 5e rules, and researching some things on YouTube, I was all for it. Our first session was on my 39th birthday at the beginning of October, 2015. It has snowballed into an addiction since then. I have invested a lot of my time (and money) into a small collection of books and miniatures, and some writing to fuel a small Forgotten Realms campaign. We don't play often, maybe every month and a half to two months, as it depends heavily on my wife's work schedule and when she can book a weekend off. I don't like playing on weekday evenings, as I'm usually pretty burned out from work or there just isn't much time to get into a good game before having to cut it short because people have to work the next day.

My Forgotten Realms campaign, currently one of two games I run, started out with three characters: a dwarven sorcerer, a half-orc druid and a gnome rogue. For the first session or two, I attempted to incorporate a PC that I was playing, a cleric of Bane. His appearance was very brief, as I decided it was not going to work well, playing a character while trying to hold down the fort being Dungeon Master and running the show. I'm not at that stage yet. So, I sent the cleric off in the night to go tend to an important mission while the rest of the party carried on. I used the majority of the 5e Starter Set module, Lost Mine of Phandelver. It did the job. I twisted it up a bit and definitely didn't follow it as per the booklet, and I still do that to this day. My style when using pre-written adventures, it seems, is to grab bits and pieces that are essential, and do the rest on the fly and change as necessary based on what the players may do to throw things off. And that's a good thing. It's helping me build skills to become a better Dungeon Master that can adapt to different scenarios, because it almost always doesn't go the way you plan it will go. I learned that early on. After a few months of playing and completing the Wave Echo Cave area, a situation arose that brought the party through a portal leading to the entrance to the Undermountain dungeon, located underneath The Yawning Portal in the great city of Waterdeep. This was an opportune moment to introduce a new player to the group, which happened thanks to a spur of the moment idea I had, to invite an old friend who I knew was a fan of what we were doing. I wasn't sure if he was up for joining the group, but you don't know until you ask, right? The next session, without saying too much of anything, the door bell rang and moments later the group now had a paladin amongst their ranks. It's been a way better game since.

The second campaign I'm going to start running over the next few weeks will be based upon the Eberron setting, which up until last week I had personally shrugged off any time it came up in my travels, and had no interest in even reading what it was about. I'm not sure why that is, I think the brief encounters I had with it previously were based on flipping through some 3rd Edition books, and I just wasn't picking up on what it was all about. I have never been much into anything 3e, the look and design of the books are unappealing to me. This past week though, one of my players and I got ahold of the 4th Edition Eberron Campaign and Player's guides, and I started reading them. I am really liking the setting and am looking forward to trying to use it in a new game. Lightning Rails, Airships, Warforged, Shifters, Dragonmarks - very cool stuff! Also of help here was a video on Nerdarchy’s YouTube channel where the guys discuss 10 Reasons Why 5th Edition Needs Eberron

This leads to my next post: What Might Eberron For 5e Be Like?

Coming soon!

-runDMsteve

#eberron #d&d #d&d 5e #nerdarchy #forgotten realms #Dungeons and Dragons #waterdeep #undermountain #tales from the yawning portal #lost mine of phandelver

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thebluesideofthemoon · 7 years

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The Wall #41: NORM OF THE NORTH

Happy new year, everyone! I sure hope you all had a really great and safe New Year's party, and I for one welcome our new year with open arms! Things can only go up from here, folks. But I'll save all of the formalities for later because there's movies to review! Ahhh yes, it's January and, for me, that only means one thing: IT'S CATCH-UP MONTH (Not "ketchup", you freak, "CATCH UP")! That is correct, for the entirety of January all I'm going to do is catch up on 2016 movies that I missed and talk about them here. Now, I have talked about a few of these before, but not on The Wall, so just for the sake of making it official I'm going to be covering them here, so you can expect to see me re-review Zootopia, Batman v Superman, The Jungle Book, Ratchet & Clank, and The Witch pretty soon, as well as other movies that I saw but never got a chance to talk about. Also, because it's January, AKA the month of supreme shit, let's talk about one of the shittiest movies of 2016: Norm of the North. Yeah, I've already talked about this movie in detail, so I'll try to keep this one short. This is the first actual 2016 movie that I watched and... man, that is not a movie you want to open up the year with, to put it mildly. So why did Hell freeze over to give us this turd? Let's find out.

This movie is a literal piece of excrement. Norm of the North is simply foul.

In this movie a talking polar bear, voiced by Rob Schnider, goes on a big, wild adventure to the foreign land of New York City in order to stop this corrupt environmentally-unfriendly asshat named Mr. Greene (Geddit?!), voiced by Ken Jeong who wants to build condos on the arctic because… I have no freaking idea WHY he wants to do it! He just wants to do it because “hurr dee durr, dis iz a green movie and zave the envairomen”. He also has to rescue his grandfather whom he thought was dead, but was actually kidnapped by Greene. There’s also this “subplot” about this marketing lady voiced by Heather Graham who is trying to get a recommendation from Greene so that her daughter can go to his own alma mater because all other schools are not intellectually challenging. If this description of the movie sounds like a mess it’s because this movie is a fucking mess.

There is so much wrong with this movie, but the worst thing about it is the plot. As I made clear from this description, this movie has a plot that feels like a bunch of stories that were mashed together in the script just to make the movie meet the standard running time to actually be a movie. I mean, the movie starts talking about Norm and his poor hunting skills and how he’ll become a better hunter, but then it switches to this plot about trying to save the Arctic and keep people from living here, which is also one of the stupidest ways to cram in an environmental message because it makes no sense! Even the movie acknowledges that living in the arctic is a stupid idea! This gets even worse when it turns out that Greene’s plan to make condos in the arctic was doomed to fail anyway just because his popularity was down the tubes, but Norm actually HELPS Greene get more popular in a stunt where Greene attempts to SHOOT NORM IN PUBLIC (and keep in mind that everyone in New York thinks- for whatever reason- that Norm is just a dude in a polar bear costume), WHERE EVERYBODY RECORDS WHAT HE DOES, YET BECAUSE NORM SOMEHOW STOPS HIM GREENE BECOMES MORE POPULAR AND PEOPLE WANT TO BUY HOMES FROM HIM?! Why no, this doesn’t make a lick of goddamn sense, thanks for asking!

To say that the people behind this movie didn’t think the plot through would give them the credit to think that there was a shred of thought put into it in the first place. No, this plot was shat out and stitched together Frankenstein-style just to make this movie meet the standard running length of a movie. This wouldn’t piss me off so much if it wasn’t for the fact that ALL THE PLOTS ARE ABSOLUTELY POINTLESS. The plot involving this mom and her kid? You can cut it out and not miss a thing. Norm’s grandfather? It’s not even brought in until halfway through the movie, and even then it doesn’t feel like it adds anything so you may as well just chuck that out the window. Hell, the plot about Norm trying to save the arctic is only complicated by the fact that Norm actually decided to go to New York to become Greene’s marketing tool to sell the arctic to the population of New York.

In other words, this is a movie whose conflict COULD HAVE BEEN RESOLVED EASILY IF NORM LITERALLY DID NOTHING!

As if that’s the only thing wrong with the movie. Sure the plot sounds insane but it’s held together by the power of incredibly tired clichés. They even have the obligatory subplot of giving Norm a half-assed love interest and they don’t even do this RIGHT- Norm’s love interest is in the movie for less than SEVEN MINUTES, most of which are spent at the very beginning of the movie, and then at the very end where, FOR NO REASON, now she’s the mom to Norm’s children. All this for one character who is a complete buffoon, and someone who we know absolutely nothing about save for her name, and that Norm likes her a lot because he, of course, has to act like a tongue-tied idiot. This movie also holds one of all-time least favorite clichés- the one where the kid wants their parent(s)’ attention by quitting their job simply because they work too hard. That cliché can go dive into a volcano and die of a slow, painful, boiling incineration as it carcass erodes into nothingness for being one of the most godawful clichés to EVER exits, AND THIS MOVIE DOES IT BECAUSE IT WAS MADE BY SATAN HIMSELF!

And this movie also features song and dance numbers because why the hell not? One of the songs featured is “Shut Up and Dance” by the band Walk the Moon. A song about ROMANCE featured in a sequence that has nothing but dancing. So the people who worked on this movie couldn’t even be bothered to have listened to a three minute song to understand its context- who am I kidding? No they couldn’t. It’s only in there so they could have a song to sell on the shitty soundtrack that nobody’s buying.

Oh, and this is just a minor nitpick, but the animation sucks hard. All the characters move like they’re made out of rubber and have no weight to them, almost everyone does the same over-the-top wild gestures that were clearly only done because “kids love crazy shit”, and not because it’s an actual performance by a character or anything. The worst offender of this is Greene himself who is always moving in really annoying ways. The man movies like a noodle, and it’s so not fun to watch. This movie just doesn’t have the budget- and for sure not the talent- to do a wild-energy cartoon because its elements don’t allow them to. Comparing this to something like Storks, that has very fluid animation and knew how to keeps its timing varied up to keep the movie’s energy from becoming stale or irritating. Also, it had a far more appealing art style, unlike in Norm where everyone looks like a cheap chew toy you’d buy for your dog.

This movie is filled with so many problems that I didn’t even get to talk about another infuriating aspect about it- the Lemmings. These guys are by far the most blatant example of ripping off that I’ve seen in quite some time as they are an obvious cash-in on the Minions, except with less personality, the Lemmings only have four different designs total, and they can literally do anything regardless of how little sense it makes. At some point Heather Graham’s character remarks that these Lemmings are both “cute and marketable” without a hint of irony. In some ways I’ve got to give some respect to this movie for having the balls to be this openly blatant about its shittiness and borderline plagiarism, but if the movie wasn’t so infuriating to watch I would be saying this as a reason to see it, but it’s soooo not worth it! It really says a lot that the fact that this movie has a twerking polar bear in it is the LEAST of this movie’s problems.

Sadly, the only positive- and this is a big stretch- that I can say about this movie is that at least the voice actors are trying even though they have absolutely no funny material to work with, and it’s pretty clear that they were given absolutely no direction aside from “Ken Jeong just scream all your lines” or “Schnider just be yourself but with a slightly higher inflection in your voice”. This movie was absolutely miserable to sit through. It’s a big slog, the plot is beyond insulting, the message is completely worthless, the movie is just a big eyesore, and the saddest thing of all is that it’s not even a shocking level of bad to be memorable, aside from the fact that those who (unfortunately) DO see it only discover how awful it truly is.

(1,370 words. Music: Crash Bandicoot: The Wrath of Cortex- Arctic Antics).

I fucking hate this movie. It's easily the second worst animated movie I've seen this decade, one of the worst movies ever, period, and the fact that it was going to be released as a straight-to-DVD but was pushed to go to the big screen just as a glorified advertisement for the DVD really does make my blood boil. But at least nobody in their right mind would ever defend this abomination. It really says something when not even a little kid can get a shred of joy out of watching this.

If not for things like Yoga Hosers and Foodfight!, then this movie would have been an easy 0, but make no mistake, Norm of the North is one of the most wretched animated movies ever made.

Well, that's one movie down... and I've got a bajillion more to go. Joy. I'll see you all next time.

#The Wall #Movie review #Norm of the North #Catch Up January

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miss-butter · 3 years

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Things I Thought That Were Not COVID (January - June) Ending

~having journaling sessions so intense I get a headache

~ the RHONY cast casually drinking martinis plural at bars like it's a chill thing to do and they're not immediately going to black out?? Damn.

~ e v e r m o r e

~ the intensely stressful harmonica opening of All I Really Want while Alanis wails "do I stress you out" over the top of it

~ today I feel like an eye that opened very very wide. What I saw was a door, opening

~ through the fog I thought the city was the sky

~ I carry all of this inside of me. It makes me very still

~ "I am slow as the world.

I am very patient,

Turning through my time, the suns and stars

Regarding me with attention.

The moon's concern is more personal:

She passes and repasses, luminous as a nurse.

Is she sorry for what will happen? I do not think so.

She is simply astonished at fertility."

~ people with no self awareness/people with no sense of humor about themselves truly need to go live on a farm away from me

~ the piano player that lives below me, the guitar player that lives above me

~ "the sun whose rays are all ablaze"

~ Room Memory I: the PERFECT sensation. Wearing my coat with a bagful of plastic spoons in my hands, leaping into krts car that smelled like dogs and cigs and is a smell that makes me feel so warm. Going over the bridge into Minneapolis chatting with them while the radio played (krts parents would play the radio, old and new, it was a thing I have never ever stopped appreciating). The times we'd get snacks at the theatre, dreaming of the day we'd be old enough to look upstairs (we haven't yet). The dark room, the laughter in the shadows and the feeling of fulfillment and validation. How their parents were there to collect us after and I got to see them on the Monday after that night.

~ Room Memory II: me and emma and bast going to see it in the winter of a year I can't remember. Driving across the Minneapolis bridge in a snow storm, slow but with intention. We arrived early, and saw a cat on it's way home before taking shelter in a late night kowalskis. They had never seen it before, and I think my friend Eric was there but that might have been another time. Laughter, darkness. Emma drove home in the blizzard, tracking over deep, deep, inches of snow in the dark over the bridge and home. When we got back my parents were asleep, and I remember us piling our feet over the vent to catch the heat in my living room. Oh, babes.

~ why do people ask where the love you had for a person goes when that person is no longer with you?? As though feelings are so easily generated that you can just release a life that you led and say "that goes there now, away". I think I'm STILL feeling everything I've ever felt in my life, nothing can truly ever go away. Also, the idea that because a person is no longer beside you that that somehow influences how you feel and what you feel and when you feel it! Can't relate.

~ That Scene in Frances Ha where they fight in the bathroom and:

Sophie: You're bullshit, and you're making me feel really bad right now.

Frances: I want to love him if you love him, but you don't love him.

Sophie: I DO.

Frances: Sophie, I fucking held your head while you cried, I bought special milk for you, I know where you hide your pills, don't treat me like a three hour brunch friend.

Sophie: I'm not talking to you while you're like this.

~ I never would have known, but there are pieces of me only Paul and Fred can reach. I want to go back to my Little Self, the first time I saw Fred, probably hungover, wiping sleep out of his eyes in that chair in Brownville, and whisper: "that's your brother. That's your real brother." She might burst into tears and never stop weeping with joy. That she had a brother who was a good man. A man of character.

~ I got fired, and two days later I allowed myself to get packed into a truck and taken to a lake. On the way there I stopped at the first restaurant I'd been to since march, and I was so scared I slurped down three vodka sodas with a burger. When I arrived it felt like a miracle, like paradise. I remember everyone went to the beach in the twilight but I stayed, and sat on the patio and smoked a stolen cig, and listened to The Beautiful Ones 5 times thinking of how badly I'd like to be a nun because I couldn't stand the thought of other people. Somehow the moment still makes me feel so. Just So. Hearing it now is like seeing a ghost.

~ do all people feel this way? Oscillating between airy fulfillment and vanilla scented oblivion? When I think about death I think of little sideways smiles, heavy lids, radiator squeaks, That Tree I still see in my memories. Somedays I feel like I'm full of Cool Whip, otherwise gelatinous, heavy, falling apart like an aspic.

~I still refuse to be sorry that I find some of the things lena dunham does and says to be funny, suck my hood

~ I constantly see tweets and stories that go something like "I told my 4 year old ____ and then they *insert action or phrase no 4 year old would ever do or say*. Yes, brilliant child. Yes." Like....the compulsive need to make shit up about your child in order to appeal to strangers on the internet is a form of Munchausen by proxy we as a society would do well to reckon with. It wasn't ok when those lesbians with the adopted kids made their son hug that cop, it's not cool for your "cute" tweet, babe.

~ people who refer to their pets as "fur babies" have either tried to or successfully gotten their pets to eat them out. You can't change my mind.

~ the stars in Death Valley

~ next year in Nebraska

~ it's beshert. No matter what you choose, no matter where it goes, the act of looking and of learning was beshert. This moment was meant to be.

~ it's going to be such a bummer when my tits start to go off to the side when I lay down. How can we endure it?

~ family: watching musicals with The Boys, swearing that we'll go to NYC together. Fred's face, Paul's smile, the sound of MEMORY let your Memory lead you I remember a time I knew what happiness was let the Memory live again

~ I'm too upset to write / I'm too upset not to write

~ the bruise, the deep round bruise, the lump beneath it

~ $80,000 each; $240,000 total after amendments

~ I lean to my wound, I lean to my wound

~ disgusting girl, nasty pie-faced thing filled with fruit the color of plastic gems. Veins plugged up with sugar, eyes full of stars.

~ its lucky to not be bothered at all by blood, I must have been born under something (or over something)

~ this is the worst lead up so far I've ever had. Utterly alone, unsupported by....who? The r u b i c o n, the gentry, even the rabble. Sitting in a lukewarm tub, soaking the wound, empty head in the room between shitting and living. Thank god for grapefruit chapstick, and for Them.

~I'm.......babing out

~ how nice for her, how nice for him, how nice for everyone (breaks glass in my fist)

~ I am the drug that you need, shoot me up shoot me up

~ Jennifer Jason Leigh in Single White Female was a definite top

~ muttering to myself in a Mark Wahlberg voice just to get a good giggle

~ making things for my brothers daughter; playing peeks with Jeremy; reading a book with John; playing sticks with natalie; talking about books with Noah. Being a woman with five nieces and nephews to watch grow up.

~ “She wanted to die, but she also wanted to live in Paris.”

~ Nora Ephron, and Melissa Broder. The now maligned art of self-confessional writing that I find infuriating when men do it (woody allen) but not unlike sinking into a hot bath when a n y o n e else does it.

~ My dad telling me about his golf tournament, my dad telling me stories of seeing bands in the 70s, my dad finding out who Blac Chyna is and saying "she's amazing", my dad knowing every character ever on Law and Order, my dad and Noah bent over a chessboard, my dad taking a splinter out of my sisters finger.

~ if I was a Housewife my tagline would be: "my attitude isn't MY problem, it's yours!"

~ I have a recurring nightmare where I went to my first day of Spanish class and then just never returned? And I knew I was going to fail but for some reason really wanted to make it to the final bc that might make a difference? True claustrophobic panic.

~ I have an incurable disease? I have an incurable disease!

~ a m e r i c a n w o m a n

~ DR Q: should I be on antibiotics until surg? Ointment yes. What in detail will happen after surg/how will it heal/will it heal? If the wound is not going to heal after surgery is it necessary to do it at all? Down the line, when can I have sex? Can I take full body baths? Is there a specialist I can take these to? Should I shave before surg? Infections?

~Potential Bday Marathon w bois: Big Lebowski, Wild, Stand By Me, Almost Famous, Frances Ha

~ I am going to be well, I am going to heal, and I am going to be better one mesh shirt and gauze pad at a time

~ Tommy Wiseau saying "I've sumfin fer youuuuu"

~ hating the Grateful Dead SO much but knowing all the words to Box of Rain. Singing it in the bath first thing in the morning while my coffee brews.

~ I've been making this list for a year

~ "Butt out, Baby"

~ What I have done I was compelled to do

~ sitting here in this humid April heat, remembering the blizzard last Easter, with Band of Brothers episode 5 on the tv, a lavender candle flaming, a message from Fred flitting across my screen like a dear little bird, my disease pulsing in my cells, my hair long in a ponytail, thinking of my brothers wedding in a few days. I've cried three times. 'You should be so lucky,' I think, over and over again. 'You should be so lucky to have this love, to have room for this pain. Le douleur exquise.' Thank you and thank you and thank you (and, if you have time, let me heal)

~on the phone with Natalie, laughing hysterically as she takes shots and calls me Marat

~ Last night in my dream the doctor called my wound "the bog"

~ I might....actually want to watch Desperate Housewives again

~ the dinner the RHONY gals have in the Berkshires season 8 is my IDEAL meal, just a roast chicken with herbs de provence, mashed potatoes, fresh green beans, and cranberries.

~ Again, tonight in the bath:

"Just a box of rain

Wind and water

Believe it if you need it

If you don't, just pass it on

Sun and shower, wind and rain

In and out the window like a moth before a flame

And it's just a box of rain

I don't know who put it there

Believe it if you need it

Or leave it if you dare

And it's just a box of rain

Or a ribbon for your hair

Such a long long time to be gone

And a short time to be there"

~ a really cathartic thing to do is throw ice cubes at the wall

~ crying on the kitchen floor and thinking of amy winehouse singing: "I cried for you on the kitchen floor."

~ note for later: what are you doing? What are you d o i n g ? Get out, get out, get out. It ain't shit, babe. Ain't shit.

~ you're a woman of genuine wit, write what you feel and how you're feeling it. Someone, someone, someone anywhere will see it and will cheer

~ that season of vanderpump where schaena fucked adam and denied it the whole time but was so obviously in Love with him while he could care less about her, culminating in her adopting a penguin from the zoo and giving him the gift of it. She named it after him. Imagine loving someone that much that you would do this.

~ the loveliness of a braid. A braid in hair, in rope, in bread. How a figment becomes a pattern, becomes history slapping against my shoulders.

~ spring cleaning for mothers day. Egg salad and a nip of whiskey after dark. Feeling very old and yet very at sea

~ A Thought: I should think about my neighbors on my death bed. I hear them speak through my walls, the boy that gets in screaming philosophical arguments and the upstairs girls who shriek. My neighbors who stomp, and my neighbors who dance all around me, the ones who were groaning in pain in the stairwell before going quiet. I can hear their laughter, and I've thrown things towards it and felt bad about it later. Their pianos on cold fall afternoons, and the late night guitar they probably think nobody hears. The couple with the large, spindly dog who isn't allowed to be here, and the cat that I pet on the stairs, the barefoot boy cradling his cat in his arms after the fire alarm went off, the chic looking lady with her carrier. The girl I went to college with, hidden somewhere in here. The ones who've come, and who've gone. They've likely heard me, too; crying, coming, laughing until I have to scream into it. Maybe they hear my music, too. I've left them cough drops, left them notes, brought packages upstairs, held the door, gifted cups of detergent. I'll remember the bike, abandoned in the laundry room even when management kept sending emails about it.

~ I'm afraid one day I'm going to turn around in bed and my wound will be my lover, my wound will be companion, who will press up against me as I make coffee, who will throb under my sheets, who will sit beside me as I eat dinner, drink a glass of wine. She weeps, and last night I thought: "do I make you wet, baby?" and I laughed. Hedwig says laugh because otherwise you'll cry, I'll remember it forever. When I laughed everything tightened up and I Hurt and Hurt. Tonight I'm very, very, very alone, and my bath radiated through me like I was a boiled lobster. When I watched RHONY naked I felt the wound put its hand on my thigh, and it felt like I was living with someone I didn't trust. Gone Girl hours.

~ I look like a cloud

~ I have a true disease of the soul and mind in which I'm not capable of forgetting anything. This must be due in part to me being a Leo and therefore being a righteous holder of grudges, but I can't even manage to forget a purchase I made at CVS that I didn't feel great about three years ago much less an interaction with a friend that isn't reflective of Either of us now but that fills me with rot. In this sense, retrospect hits me very hard because nothing ever leaves me. I'm like a desk and papers get piled on top of each other and sometimes it gets messy but each memory is just under the surface of another. Needless to say, if I tell somebody that I can't remember something I'm usually lying to them just to avoid being bored. Which is something to think about, to be sure. Anyway, tell me the story again.

~ I feel naughty and covetous, big-titted and sharp-toothed and green-eyed and hungry hungry hungry hungry hungry. I always get this way when the whether turns hot. Everything is getting deeper, thicker. For the better and the worse. Keep your candy away from me or I'm going to take it from you.

~ "My daughter. My last one. She's my sin. She's what I smeared on the world."

~ the beginning of the summer I sweat, and I bleed, and crack, and i hate and hate, until. Until. The window must be left open, to let the lion in. While I sleep it crawls out of my closet and lays down upon me and I wake up with my hair in a snarl and an insatiable throbbing in my veins. The air is hot, and I'm ready to swallow the moon again. Be r e b o r n.

~ it's nice to meet you. I'm 26 years old, I'm a woman of cracks and fissures, a woman of unprentention who relishes pretending, baddest, chatterbox slut, writing gay porn every night if i can manage it, irremediable sky watcher, secret smoker, mainliner of unhip music, dizzy lady, silly goose. I think the moon is in my neighbors window, and I look up at the impression and thank her.

~ I'm vaccinated, I'm going to a party at my sisters house, I have a person in my phone who I think likes me and I Know wants to fuck me. I've written 1,000 words every day this week. This year I’m spending my birthday in Nebraska. Let the season begin, let me move west into a long, brilliant wind.

#My words

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