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nobleelfwarrior · 2 years

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I just spent an hour untangling some Radblr drama, so we're talking about anger again.

My credentials: I have no male friends because all of theme got into arguments with me where they thought I was over reacting, hysterical, or mean. Every time I spent about a week or more wracking my brain to find something I did wrong and found nothing.

So, you're feeling heated about something someone said on Tumblr. You feel like you've been wronged or that the person was stupid or cruel. What do you do?

Step 1: Take a deep breath. Nothing productive happens when you are reactionary. You want to act, not react.

Step 2: Did you read this in the kindest possible way? Was it still mean? If yes, then yes, you are right to be upset. If no, perhaps approaching this post/poster in a more generous light will lead to more understanding. Assume they had good intentions and ask questions to clarify what they meant.

Step 3: So they were being mean and you didn't find common ground. You can either choose to engage or disengage with the conversation. If you think you are going to loose your cool and do something you regret, disengage. You don't have to engage with online discourse that makes you uncomfortable. Just log off.

You chose to engage. Let's cover a few things NOT to do.

no slurs. None. Not even if you think they're justified. Slurs are never ever ever ok.

avoid sarcasm. we're online and it can be hard to pick up and it isn't productive.

act like something should be obvious. We're all at different levels here. Some of us don't speak English as a first language. Some of us are new to our sexualities or feminism. It might be obvious to you, but it isn't obvious to others.

You should explain clearly and calmly what you mean. That isn't to say you should never get heated or passionate, but if that passion overwhelms your ability to communicate your point, you need to take a step back. Spite is fun in memes and harmful in discussion.

You should treat questions as attempts to engage, not bad faith. There are obvious exceptions, but, again, being online, it is hard to show genuine confusion/curiosity, especially in heated situations where you might assume hostility.

You should know your audience. There comes a point where you know whether the person you're talking to is the person you are communicating with or if the standers-by are the people you are communicating with. Knowing the person you are debating with is not the person who needs to hear it can help you make better choices.

When to bow out: If at any time you want to let your anger take over, it's time to step out. You've made your points and going further with this person is only going to hurt you more. For me, going in circles with the conversation is what makes me livid, so I know that's where to call it. When you leave, it can be helpful to give a call to action like "do the research for yourself and see what I said is true" or "check out what x person had to say about it if you don't trust me".

Why is this important

There's been a lot of talk about infighting recently. Bad faith readings of what others had to say contributed to a lot of that. When someone says "I meant x", they probably did. Not everyone here is a perfect writer. We don't have editors or beta readers or anyone to tell us that something was unclear or misleading until we post the thing.

Radical Feminism is about women's liberation. Each of us likely have multiple axis of oppression, but we share female. Racism, ablism, and homophobia cannot be tolerated and need to be called out. Men will band together despite their prejudices to demean women and we need to make sure we don't alienate our sisters with slurs so that we can fight back. It doesn't sound fair, but life isn't fair and that's why we need radical feminism, female communities, and to work together.

If someone calls out your bad behavior, carefully consider the criticism. Don't react. Act. I've had to adjust my behavior several times because women I respect and follow made posts, not about me personally, but that did apply to me and I thought carefully and adjusted my behavior.

And you do have a right to prioritize different women in your life, but the moment you exclude any group of women from your liberation efforts, you aren't feminist. Again, prioritize is ok, exclusion is bad. I'm personally prioritizing women in my community because that's all I can handle with my mental health. Even though my efforts aren't focused on women in other countries, I'm not going to make them feel like I don't care about them. Does that make sense? I'm not going to post about how they're dumb for this or that. I'm not going to say they can fend for themselves or that I don't share sisterhood with them. My efforts can only reach so far, by they are my allies. I hope that makes sense.

I get why you're mad.

I really do. Lesbians have faced homophobia from OSA women in Radblr and that is hurtful and frustrating. SSA women are sometimes insensitive or even cruel to straight women (not the same as systematic oppression, but still unproductive and hurtful). The black, indigenous, and brown women on Radblr have faced racism. Women will use ableist slurs and not see that it is completely unacceptable, even if the woman you are arguing with seems bigoted to you. We see a lot of people who claim to be radfem but seem more just gender critical, which muddies things. We see women on here who insist that their man is different. It is all very frustrating.

But it comes back to the post I made about venting. If your discussion with self ided radfems becomes a back and forth vent, that's not productive. Taking actual action is productive. Calling out ableism, homophobia, and racism is productive. Asking for clarification on what seem like incendiary posts is productive. Discussing difference of opinion in respectful ways is productive.

The whole point of radblr is to have a community so we can be productive. We need to put more effort into getting along. It seems unfair, but that's what we have to do in order to make progress.

Quick obligatory disclaimer that there are limits to trying to get along. There is a point where just blocking and moving on is fine. I think we all know this.

Anyway, those are my thoughts.

#me myself and i #radfem #radical feminism #feminism is a movement #take action #venting #anger

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mangoisms · 10 months

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using calmly writer again. i used it way back when it was just a chrome extension and now they do have the online version available but they've also moved to a downloadable software. decided to try it out for this one oneshot i am working on bc i wanted more font options (only three on the online version but Much More in the download which is nice, especially since i can use lucida grande, ao3's font, that was a very nice find)

it also has different background presets and there's this one...

sort of. curious. i mean. old school. from where. i was so surprised when i clicked it and then everything changed this... very bright bright LOL. or not bright. but. idk. it Stands Out

ETA: it also has this awesome typewriter sound for when you type! do really like that too

otherwise. pretty solid program. you do need a license to keep using the program and its... $12 USD i think? but you can also download it without putting in payment info and it'll give you an unknown amount of time for the trial, which is what i am on. $12 is pretty good, i think, but i like formatting my writing in..... classic book format? (no idea what it should be called but like. no spaces between paragraphs and indents/tabs at the start of each one, you know) and when pasting over from docs, it does get rid of that/other formatting like italics.

you can indent in the software (but not online, also another reason i decided to give the download a try) but it's kind of. well. gestures to the picture. it doesn't do it automatically, either, you have to do it each time. also don't even know if those indents will hold when i export it which might Stink but i'm saving that problem for my future self (so, like, later tonight). also for a proper em dash, you have to hit '-' three times; two makes it Very Small and again. don't know how it holds when its being exported so i just want to be safe/stay consistent with how long the em dashes were originally when typed in docs

that's really the main thing with it. i like my indents. and i also always copy and paste stuff back into google docs when i'm done working on my laptop (where i might ordinarily use scrivener to write, which doesn't give me any problems with any of these things and with copying back to docs), that way i can keep writing on my phone if i'm going to bed or something. of course now i'm using calmly as like... new program. new inspo. i love environmental changes As We All Know. so i'm overlooking it for the grind (the writing)

#here's the program review no one asked for #and probably too much information about the things i am finicky about when it comes to writing #😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎😎#its really just because i know this wip is a oneshot that im like #okay lets suffer through some potential issues when it comes to exporting back to docs #because it's one thing. so. yeah #might keep using it too since you can use the trial for an undetermined amount of time #seriously theres no set limit LOL #not complaining tho #at the end of the day i love scrivener and i will always be loyal to her #but i can never say no to a new program #LMAO

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thenationsexpress · 2 years

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Work From Home With an Internet-Based Job

The advent of high-speed internet has changed the inner-workings of how most businesses and companies function. These days, one person can be more productive thanks to the instant access to loads of valuable information, right at their fingertips. The possibility of working from home is higher, as well, due to the fact that keeping in touch is so much easier, what with internet teleconferences and Skype free internet calling.

Working in a remote position can also be more productive, as employees do not have to waste time preparing for work in the morning or factor in commute times. You can get more sleep, wake up refreshed, and get to work calmly over a cup of coffee, rather than fight the rat race and sit in hectic rush hour traffic to get to the office on time. Click here the easiest degree to get in Canada

So what kinds of jobs can be done from home? Many occupations have remote positions, both at entry level and higher professional status. For example, graphic designers and computer programmers can typically work on their own schedule, just as productively from home as from any office. Companies can save money this way, as well, by reducing the cost of maintaining a large, equipped office. Freelance writers frequently prefer to work from home, as do many radio correspondents. Customer service representatives, IT professionals, and salespeople can work from home, as well - it's oftentimes easier and more fruitful than working in a common office.

There are also some online jobs that aren't as obvious. Take, for example, becoming an E-Juror, a virtual jury member, one way to earn some extra cash while learning about the goings-on of a court room. Entry-level positions as a virtual assistant to a small business owner can be very lucrative, as can a job as a virtual concierge, whose responsibilities may include taking phone calls and emails from clients who need dinner reservations, taxi service, or help planning a vacation. Some people make money as a paid blogger, who is hired by a company or service to help with online promotions. Bloggers use their writing skills and web knowledge to spread the word about products, deals, etc.

In order to improve your potential of being a remote worker, you will want to make sure your home office is equipped with high speed cable, DSL, or satellite broadband internet. Next, you should make yourself familiar with a variety of online portals designed for remote workers searching for jobs, as well as employers advertising remote job openings. Some of the popular remote job databases are Elance, which also provides a forum for remote workers to exchange ideas, tips, and questions about remote positions. SimplyHired.com is a space for employers to post remote jobs in the areas of sales, clerical and administrative employment, account executives, and customer service. Mediabistro.com is an excellent online resource for freelance writers, artists, and media professionals, with a special search tool to narrow down remote and freelance positions available all over the US.

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sarahreesbrennan · 3 years

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You wrote on twitter that you were too young to be published and did fool things you later regretted. I'm curious about those regrets - is there anything you'd be willing to elaborate on?

I do want to clarify I meant I personally was probably too young, and I wasn't a babe in arms when I was published--I was 24, which is an adult! S.E. Hinton was 18 when her first book was published and she arguably invented young adult fiction. Jennifer Lynn Barnes was a teenager when her first book was published and she's always been a genius rock star. Some people are married and having kids and doing great at their jobs at 24, but some people are in college, or learning the ropes of their jobs and full-time work life in general and messing up because it still feels unfamiliar. Most of us, me included, will be making messes until we die, though we can hope for better messes.

My regrets aren't super secret--I would've conducted myself differently online and offline. One thing I've said before: I wouldn't link up my real name and my fanfic identity the way I did back when. That means having your juvenilia out there and judged, and yourself judged in a very particular way! It is hard to sit in the doctor's office and ask him for written proof you have cancer, because the internet will accuse you of faking it. (Yes that did happen. That poor man's face was like, 'Girl, why do you not live your life right.') As I've said, I have an assistant-with-antis who filters my social media and email so I don't have to come upon hostile stuff, and I do wonder if there are ways to inspire less hostility.

But to be clear regarding that example, I think fandom is awesome in many ways, and it's valuable to say you wrote fanfiction, just don't get too specific. One of my most cherished facts about a (fancy, brilliant, very bestselling) writer friend is that she wrote Sonic the Hedgehog fanfiction once. Many of my writer friends used to or still do write it! (Fanfic in general... I'm not outing a bunch of writers as avid Sonic fans...) And being open about my identity did mean I had some beautiful supportive readers from the jump, who were sweet to me and made friends with each other (Marmalade fish shoutout). I love that people connect over fiction, and that they connected over mine. My advice to others is to do it like Oscar winner Chloe Zhao, and be like 'yes I write it, yes the call is coming from inside the building, yes creative engaged people engage creatively in many ways, no you'll never know my online name!' And that's mostly how it's done these days--there are masses of fanfiction writers in TV, in movies, working as editors and agents in publishing, and who are writers, because people who are passionate about creativity are passionate about creativity in many ways. A decade ago and nobody was sure how it was going to go: I do think it went well generally, if uneasily for test balloons like me.

Overall, as regards regrets, if you're alive, you're making mistakes, and if you're growing, you're learning from them. Often the more you care, the more mistakes you make. There are some things only life experience can teach you, and I've seen people who came into writing with experience from being, for instance, lawyers which they were able to use in many ways, and there were times I wished I'd acquired experience or lost naivety in a job that wasn't my dream job. Sometimes I really didn't know what was going on, and later I was like 'Ohhh! Oh Lord.' I would say a few things I wish I'd known: How to draw boundaries like circles of salt that others couldn't cross. The personal and the professional are going to blur, but it's still important to try and differentiate them. How to pick your battles: recognise the unwinnable, find the most likely strategy for victory with the winnable ones. Know that people won't like you just because you're making life more convenient for them, so don't do it for that reason. OMG abide by contracts and make sure the contracts cover every eventuality. Learn the art of standing your ground calmly. (One day, I'll get it.)

But getting published at any age is complicated: I have one friend who was sure she was going to die after she got her publishing contract because it was her dream accomplished, and what was left? I have more life experience in my 30s, but I also had most of those years totally slain by cancer: my writing went off a cliff long before I was diagnosed, and then I couldn't write, and since then I've been scrambling. If I'd been published first at 30 I might have handled myself in style, but there definitely wouldn't have been two trilogies before the long pause. One very lovely, very talented lady who was first published in the same year I was died shortly after. You don't know what's coming: Margaret Mitchell was hit by a speeding drunk driver and we'll never know if rumours she planned to write a sequel to Gone with the Wind are true. The people whose first books were out in 2020 had a tough time, and I would've freaked out if I'd been in their position and am glad I didn't have a non-tie-in novel out--it was very strange to have two tie-ins out that year as it was! People were reading books in 2020, but it was harder for new books to get on their radar.

I didn't write the tweet to alarm anyone, or say there was a magical time it was best to be published at. Lots of amazing writers aren't published, are published feeling they're too young, are published feeling they're too old. I think my tweet was really to say, there's no precise right time, and no way to execute your dreams exactly right. I do look back on stuff and think, oh lord, me at 30 might have handled THAT better. I hope that I'll look back at me now from 50 and go, I'd crush the stuff that crushed her!

Are there things I would change, sure. But I probably would make different mistakes if it had all happened differently for me. Humans constantly torment ourselves imagining the magic way we could've got everything right, a task exactly nobody has accomplished. I've never lived a perfect life or written a perfect book, and I don't know anyone else who has. I'm really glad I was published, and really proud of all my books. If you've never done something you've regretted, how much have you done? Keep going.

#stumbling through publication #writing #fanfiction

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iwishicanbeagoodpianist · 3 years

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the Wifilcon and the Winter Router

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC/Reader Summary: When Bucky learns that his neighbor has been stealing his wifi for months. Warnings: None A/N: I'm not a fanfic writer at all, this, like all my stories, are adaptations to fanfics. My original stories are not written in english, so this is also a translation. please do not repost my work

For an instant, Bucky thought that the knocking he was hearing was coming directly from his head, I mean, it wouldn't be the first time his mind played tricks on him, but he realized that the sound was actually coming, unluckily for him, from his apartment door. Oh no no no no no no no, I just got back from putting up with Sam for almost 6 full weeks, I don't need interaction with more people for now.

Bucky thought for a minute to ignore the sound, to wait for the person to give up and leave, anyway he didn't spend many days on this apartment, almost no one had seen him leave or enter the building and he had no contact with the neighbors, only with the lady on the 7th floor who once lost one of her cats, which ended up in Bucky's apartment, accidentally. Not that I found the cat in the alley and actually brought him to my apartment, it doesn't mean that I stole the cat, he was in the street by himself, I rescued him.

When the banging on the door stopped and Bucky thought he could breathe calmly again, a voice between altered and annoyed was heard all the way to the living room where he was sitting trying to overcome his third panic attack and fourth existential crisis of the day .

-"I know you're in there! I saw you coming in a few hours ago! I've been waiting for days for you to come back!"-

More out of instinct than anything else, Bucky pulled out the knife hidden in his right boot as he slowly backed away from the door. Do I really have a spy as a neighbor? Should I call Sam? Is he in danger too? Never mind now, you need an escape route Bucky, concentrate, third floor, window to the alley, 2 minutes max, the bike is parked far away, I'll have to run, but to where, rendezvous point, safe place, think....

- "for God's sake, open the door, I need you to pay for your fucking internet plan, I'm in the last season of my series and I need to know if Carolina died or not!"-

- "The internet?"- Between the andrenaline from escaping and the shock of not understanding what was happening Bucky spoke louder than an assassin, with over 60 years of experience, should have spoken. Oh, shoot.

-"Yes! Your wifi, I need it to finish watching my series"-

Whispering "wifi" to himself, Bucky tries to remember where he has heard that word before, this is what I get for never listening to Sam when he talks to me. But before he can continue his mental analysis of all the conversations with Sam about such stupid things as his favorite American Football team, the New Orleans Saints, that I remember, to how Antonio could possibly leave María on the last episode of the 6 o'clock telenovela of which Sam is a fan, his apparent "neighbor" spoke up again:

-"Jesus Christ, can you open the door? So we can resolve this like adults"-

Bucky resigned to the fact that he has given his position to the "enemy", walks to the door and opens it waiting for his death. Well at least if I die I won't have to listen to Sam again talking about Antonio and María. But on the other side of the door, there was a woman, who in her pajamas, very unthreatening but cute, was watching him as if he were a ghost but still with defiance in her eyes, in one breath she introduced herself and continued her speech about her complaint to Bucky:

-"As I was saying, I need you to pay for your internet"-

-"I'm sorry, but I'm not sure I understand what you mean"- mumbled Bucky.

- "Good Lord"- To Bucky's surprise his neighbor, pushes him and enters his home, well not so much a home home, more like the headquarters of his secret club, of which he is the president, vice president and only member, the point is that it is his place, where he can (and wants to be alone), as she lives here. This must be a dream, maybe I hit my head too hard in the last mission and I am unconscious in the hospital.

Crossing the room, Bucky's unwanted visitor looks around searching for something while whispering the words "I see you are quite minimalist, but maybe this is too much, someone urgently needs to look for some inspiration on Pinterest". She stops abruptly in front of the shelf where, in theory, a TV should go, while shouting: "EUREKA", she bends down and picks up a white device which has two antennas and like a million little blinking lights, damn, that looks like something out of a spaceship, I'm being watched by aliens? I'm being spied on by Kree?

-"This is your router, this is where the internet signal comes from, which I need you to pay for so I can finish watching my series"-.

Bucky, still in shock for the third time in less than 15 minutes, as he processes the idea that perhaps Thanos' unknowing twin is spying on him for a second invasion of earth and revenge for his brother's death. He can only nod to his now more relaxed and happy neighbor.

-"Perfect, thanks! I need to check the food I left in the oven, I'll talk to you later"- and as quickly as she came she left through the same door, leaving Bucky with more doubts than answers, peeking down the hallway, he realizes that she is the neighbor who lives next door, to his right. When Bucky comes out of his initial stupor, still not fully understanding what is going on, he decides to take his cell phone out of his pocket and call his own personal Google to solve his doubts about this century: Sam Wilson.

-"Hey Buck! What's up?"-how does he always manage to sound so happy? focus Buck.

-"What the hell is a router and why do I have one in my house?"- somehow Bucky manages to formulate, although maybe his voice cracked a little on the last words.

-"That thing's been there for at least two months and you didn't even notice it? Have you even paid the bill?"-

-"You put this in here? Without telling me????"- maybe Sam is also a Kree? Who can I trust now? It's all a trap?

Listening to Bucky's accelerated breathing, Sam tries to explain to him slowly, that in this century life without internet is not life, but obviously as Bucky does not even know how to set the alarm on his own cell phone, he was in charge of buying the router and creating the contract with the company so that, the 106 year old man could have his personal network at home. He had given it the name but he had not given it a password so that Bucky himself could set it up later. "I am an excellent friend, I mean co-worker, if I may say so"

-"Sorry man, after all that happened, we got called for a mission and I forgot to tell you, do you have your laptop over there? I'll help you set up a password, so your neighbors won't steal your internet anymore"- and with that comment everything started to make sense in Bucky's slightly screwed up but functional mind about the events with his seemingly non-spy and harmless neighbor.

Meanwhile Bucky was trying to remember his own password to unlock the laptop in front of him, also courtesy of Sam. "Bucky, when you learn about online banking and that you can pay your rent, electricity, phone and everything with a click of your computer, you will thank me". It should be noted that Bucky hasn't used that laptop once, like a good 100 year old grandpa he goes to the bank to make his deposits and pay his debts, which obviously consisted only of electricity, water, gas and phone because the man had no idea that there was a device in his house that spit out internet, apparently only his next door neighbor knew this. Buck tells Sam how he thought his router was an alien device and how he thought his neighbor was a KGB agent coming to kill him. "Relax Buck we all have undesirable neighbors that steal our internet signal sometimes", well undesirable is not the word I would use to describe her but ok.

When Sam finally explains to him how to connect his computer to the internet, Bucky can finally see the name that his wonderful co-worker, not friend, because he could never be friends with someone so stupid as to think that the name "THE WIFILCON AND THE WINTER ROUTER" was a good name.

- "my god Sam, you're such an asshole!"-

-"HEY! That's a great name!"- Sam responds with as much indignation as possible, he's the best at naming everything from dogs to wifis.

- "I can't believe you're Captain America, I can't believe we're even friends"- Bucky really can't understand his luck to have friends, well, co-workers whatever.

- "Well excuse me but we're co-workers..."-

- "Well, take this call as my formal resignation, bye"-

-"Wait a minute Buck..."- Bucky ended the call, to finish -his self-imposed- punishment of listening to Sam Wilson talk for over an hour. At least I asked him how to use the bank's website to pay for the internet. Suddenly, without warning and without explanation, the memory of his neighbor is lodged in his head, her hair in a ponytail, her reading glasses, pink shorts, her sweater from some university of which he can't even remember the name because he was watching out for other things... that she wouldn't kill me obviously, he was watching out that she wouldn't pull a knife out of her back and kill me right there. The message on his laptop indicating that he can now set a new name and password to his wifi distracts him enough to stop thinking about his sweet and cute non-spy neighbor and how she would look with her hair down and her glasses off.

Still with the sweet feeling in his chest and the desire to see her again he writes as the new name of the wifi, while laughing:

"If you want free internet, you owe me at least one free dinner"

After paying the internet debt and closing the laptop, Bucky gets up hoping to find something edible in the kitchen, while leaning over to look inside his fridge and analyzing how bad it would be to eat a fried egg with pasta and sriracha, he hears again a knock on the door, but this time it does not cause Bucky the anguish and anxiety that caused him the first time, but quite the opposite.

-"Open the door Winter Router! I prepared chicken pot pie for dinner"-.

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boonskicks · 3 years

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Ok, I don't tend to make posts like this but I’m too frustrated because I see it time after time on this hellsite.

Complaining on a bi person’s post saying: “ugh not this pan is biphobic discourse again 🙄 just accept both labels are valid and move on” is not the hot take you think it is.

Outright DENYING that the pan label was ever biphobic or transphobic in the first place is so wild and I’ve been seeing that crop up more often.

The history of both terms is complicated - but generally as we know it, both these terms were initially coined by cishet people in a way to shun, denounce, medicalize and demonize people.

But the term pansexual as it became widely known as part of the LGBTI+ community, both online and offline… was undeniably spread as the more “inclusive version” of bisexuality. Not only did people misunderstand bi history, but it added to the oversexualized stigma we face from both heterosexuals and homosexuals alike. “Hearts not parts” was a terrible phrase that demonstrated this aspect (also kind of implied gays and lesbians are... only attracted to parts as well which. i don't need to say why that's wrong).

People thankfully realized how a lot of pan people were spreading transphobic rhetoric in regards to trans binary people, however the idea that pan people were attracted to nonbinary folks and bi people were not was still quite widespread and honestly still is.

Of course, thankfully some people realized that wasn’t the case at all and that’s where the “regardless of gender” and the idea of pan as a microlabel of a broader umbrella became more accepted. However, let’s not act as if that definition is widely known yet. A lot of people still think of pan by those former definitions… and by virtue of that, are spreading transphobic and biphobic rhetoric.

If you want proof of that, read this excerpt from an article that lists off how people in the media/internet describe the pan label from the 1970s and to as late as 2020:

June 18, 2020: “Madison [Bailey] proceeds to explain that a pansexual person can be attracted to all different kinds of people, including ‘girls, boys, trans girls, trans boys, and nonbinary babies’. The term pansexual is viewed as being much more inclusive than ‘bisexual’, because it does not assume that a person is only attracted to men or women, but also those who don’t identify with a specific gender.”

Now, not all of this is Madison Bailey's direct quote, it's only after ''nonbinary babies'' where the writer of the article steps in with the definition... but that doesn't mean that Madison's quote is not very telling. Besides, the article where this quote was referenced has so much more, it just goes to show that in 2020, people still spread the same definition of pan being the more ''inclusive'' of the two labels. Here's the link:

I hope I don't need to say it but that quote sounds... terrible. As a nonbinary person, being called a 'baby' is so infantilizing, even if the intent is to be 'inclusive' and... just 'cute' I guess? As if nonbinary people don't get infantilized enough. And why did she need to specify 'trans girls and trans boys' from 'girls and boys'? This was last year, so don't go telling me and others we're just being 'panphobic' when this transphobic and biphobic crap is genuinely what some pan people still say.

This is why it’s so infuriating to see pan people on this site just yell “panphobia!” at a bi person just calmly expressing the fact that some bi people (specially trans/nonbinary bi folks) may feel uncomfortable with the term and telling pan people to be aware of its history and not spread more harmful ideas.

So you can see how responding to that as if someone is attacking the pan label as a whole and vehemently denying that the term had transphobic and biphobic history… comes off as extremely tone deaf, stubbornly ignorant and incredibly dismissive of bi people’s voices.

While there’s some bi people that are against the pan label, that doesn’t mean all bi people want it gone. We just don’t want further misinformation to spread, but it KEEPS being spread and it won’t be solved if pan people have a kneejerk reaction and keep shutting down bi people bringing up fair points!

Like, please step back and realize how you sound and look. Yes, I understand a lot of these people don’t want any more infighting in the community, but there’s a difference between transmeds harassing nonbinary people and people who use neopronouns vs bi people just expressing the fact that some pan people need to be more mindful and self aware of the label’s history. That’s not dividing anybody???

If you dismiss or shut down valid points like this, think about how you’re coming across. Because it sounds like you just want to call people panphobes instead of realizing you may still be incredibly biphobic. You care more about people not discussing the history of the label or denying it in favor of “no infighting” than actually having a discussion in good faith.

To end this already very long post, I have an excerpt from that same article, this time by the writer, Kravitz M. - I really recommend you check his other articles, and support him on Ko-fi:

''People tend to chalk down harmful rhetoric to just an exceptional “fraction of the community” instead of acknowledging the issue’s prevalency, which is an unhelpful deflection. The mindsets shown in the timeline were exhibited by many of the first to use “pansexual” as a sexual orientation, a trend that hasn’t stopped at all.''

Pan people are welcome to reblog this and interact but don’t clown on this post! If you call me a panphobe you literally missed the entire point of what I was saying and I want nothing to do with you lmao

Edit: made this more accessible for screen readers! My apologies!

#bisexual #bisexuality #pansexual #pansexuality #lgbtqia #lgbt+#lgbti #lgbt #anti terf

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babiesdreams · 3 years

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Hi! May I request an imagine of a reaaaally soft first time with Jaemin which includes lots of kisses and cuddles? I have this scenario in my mind and I really want to read it from your perspective cause you're such a good writer 💞

Okay so.. Jaemin and s/o having a home date and they just lay on the bed while having some wine then they just slowly start to making out but things heat up and they end up making love? Something like that. Thank you so much!!

Asbsjbdjbd yes he is. And thanks for saying I'm a good writer I- thanks for supporting me. I decided to put the reader as a friend I hope you don’t mind it.

“Is it the alcohol talking?” +18

Warnings: Oral (giving), virgin! reader, mentions of alcohol.

“And that one time you just laughed out loud so hard that everyone looked at you” He says cuckling. And you look at him offended. “Hey, you are no one to talk. You called our teacher mom” He looks at you in disbelief. “I was twelve” He tries to explain himself. “Old enough for not doing that. Ahem Mommy issues ahem” You tease him.

“Hey, I don’t have mommy issues” He says sipping some wine from his glass. “And you are no one to talk, mrs. Daddy issues” He jokes around. “I haven’t even had sex yet, but I don’t think I have daddy issues” You say calmly sipping on your wine. He comes closer to you, slowly and dangerously. His lips are almost touching yours, and he just says “Are you sure babygirl” in a low deep voice as his free hand caress your right cheek.

“I think you like daddy” He says slowly, almost as a whisper. Your whole body trembles at his words, your face turn completely red and your eyes widen. “See?” He says getting back to his original pose. “You have a daddy kink”

Your mind doesn’t listen to his words tho, you are completely out of yourself. The actions of the sweet boy made you realize just how much you liked him. Not that you didn’t know, but this kind of moments always made you fall for him a little bit more.

Your empty head leads you to get closer to him, after leaving your glass of wine on the table. Your lips meet his, making his eyes widen at the unexpected action. His hand leaves the glass on the bedside table, before caressing your cheek.

The kiss evolves within time, turning more heated and nothing two friends would ever do. Chills run through your body when his hands draw invisible masterpieces on your exposed skin.

“I want to do it” You say suddenly, surprising the poor boy. “Is the alcohol talking?” He simply asks, concerned that you might regret it later, but you simply shake your head. “I like you” You say softly against his lips. A smile appears on his red lips as you do and he kisses you again, pressing his body against yours.

Your bodies lay on the bed, heatingly scrubbing against each other. His bulge moves against your wet panties. The sensation of his length against your cunt really feels just like you imagined it would. His low grunts turn you on in a way you could have never thought.

His hands are slowly pulling your underwear down and off your body, along with your pants. No long after you feel how his fingertips draw circles against your clit, in a way you ever did.

Your hands aren’t quiet either, unclipping your bra so that Jaemin can play along with your breasts as well. His mouth is fast, licking over your nipples just one time, to be able to see your reaction.

Your whole expression is priceless, giving him a smirk. His lips place kisses all over your face and neck, making you feel more loved and wanted than you ever felt before.

His hands get off your body, removing his clothes now. You see his dick for the first time and have a mix of feelings. You wanna suck him, but at the same time you want to know how he feels inside of your cunt. His fingers return their actions, warming you up.

You are already so wet that yu don’t think you are even gonna feel anything due to the lubrication, but when he enters... Just pure pain brushes you. He can tell by your facial expressions that it’s hurting, so he gets down slightly to be able to kiss your cheeks.

The sweet smooches calm you down as he finally enters fully inside of you. He stays there for a whole moment, letting you adapt to his length. The feeling is really something new, he reaches places your fingers could never.

His lips get to yours, kissing you softly while his hands caress your hair carefully. After a while you tell him to move and he does as you say. His dick stretches your tight walls really widely and slowly.

“Y-You” You stutter trying to make sense of your words. He stopps at your words and asks what’s wrong. “You feel so good” You whisper looking straight at him. He smiles relieved and continues moving, he places more kisses along your body as he does. You find yourself cuming shortly after due to his hot actions.

He gets out of you, lying besides you, but you can’t be fully happy since he didn’t cum yet. Your hands touch his hard length “You don’t need to” He says to you calmly. “But I want to” You whisper softly and he whines in anticipation.

You try to recall everything you read online about blowjobs and simply get to it. Your lips brush his tip and your tongue licks it from the bottom to the top. Your mouth hugs his length as you suck him off and the poor boy isn’t able to retrain himself for much longer.

His cum brushes your throat and you taste the unusual flavour of the substance. He opens his arms and softly says “Come here” You jump into his arms and hug him tightly. “Did you have fun?” He asks in between tiny kisses that he places on your head. “A lot” You simply say smiling at him.

----------------------------------------

Hope you liked it. It got so long lol.

Masterlist –requests open– How to request? Check out your score.

#nct #kpop #nct scenarios #nct imagine #nct smut #nct reactions #kpop imagine #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #kpop scenario #jaemin #jaemin smut #jaemin blurbs #kpop blurb #nct blurb #nct blurbs #requests #requested #requests open

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ahundredtimesover · 3 years

Text

On reblogging fics and other things:

To the anon who sent a 4-part ask, I used it to make a point (mixed feelings on this tho but hope u still read!)

I’d at least back myself up here and say that I never acted like an expert or felt like I had all the answers. I’ve detailed before how I find fics and I read whatever I feel like. I consume for my own pleasure, give feedback for the writers, and reblog/recommend for others to read them, if they wish. It was always about the story and how I felt; it was never about pleasing other readers.

(And this is to anyone): And isn’t that the point of reblogging? So that more people can read them? And what does “recommending on your own mean”? I don’t call “dibs” on a story and claim that I found it first. I write, too, and if my fic makes it to 50 lists, I’d be so damn happy. If that’s the vibe I gave before, that’s your opinion and I acknowledge that, but I always gave disclaimers. I listened to people, apologized for any mistakes, and learned from them. I live in my own bubble out here and some do, too. Not everyone can access or has the time to search so I answer when someone asks and reblog for those who chose to follow me.

Thank you, though, for reading my stories. Most of them are very personal; others are about my own reflections about life. I think it hits differently when it’s a story you can relate to or at least have a certain level of empathy for. I can’t promise lighter ones tho haha but readers will know if it’s personal or not. You don’t have to apologize but thank you; I’m glad you got something at the end of it, too.

As for me, I’m very open in this space. I don’t reveal my identity but everything I say about myself and how I interact with others is as genuine as one can be in the online world. I try to respond as calmly, kindly, or neutrally as I possibly can to antagonistic asks bc that’s how I am and I don’t like negativity on my page; some I don’t even post anymore but I agree, maybe these people are just projecting, maybe they also feel entitled and aren’t more mindful of what they’re saying, maybe they actually mean well. Who knows? But if it’s anything but kind, they’re affecting someone on the other side of it.

I worked hard to get to this headspace where I don’t let unhelpful and energy-draining things get to me. And I’ll continue to post and reblog and write and respond to people however I wish. Thank you and stay safe!

#mimianswers #mimi rambles #the last for today!#will be back in my reading and writing hole for now

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lazy-whistledown · 3 years

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Claudia a bit short of breath when she joined the zoom call bc she had to move her boat. She said she got it filled w/ diesel.

Nicola & Claudia were the first actors cast. Nicola was the first one cast in April 2019 & Claudia was the next one cast.

Claudia & Nicola met briefly prior to Bridgerton through the comedy show, Porters (one of NC’s best friends was one of the writers). NC basically stalked Claudia bc she really wanted to be friends w/ her

Claudia, as we all know, is anti-social media. But she would look up Nicola online to see what she’s up to. Nicola would do really romantic things, like post a bday message for Claudia in case she goes online (I found this extremely sweet). Claudia said Nicola has done this a few times. It’s like finding a treat.

Nicola sends Claudia memes all the time. Claudia doesn’t know what a meme is (adorable 😁). Nicola likened her to a grandma, telling her what the youngsters are doing on the internet

Nicola and Claudia LOVE Peneloise fan art. Nicola sends them to her and her mom all the time. They appreciate the time people take & what the characters mean to people

Nicola said she gets messages from people telling her they’re mad at Penelope for doing this (I think she was referring to the Marina reveal)

Claudia appreciating Nicola for going with her to have vegan hot dog bc she’s vegan. Then she recounted how a drunk Nicola told everybody after a take: “Well, thanks everybody for the opportunity. This has been wonderful.”

NC talked about how Penelope should really talk about her secrets/troubles with her best friend & to open her eyes to other men bc she feels like Penelope is so in awe with Colin. “He’s lovely, but he’s just a guy.” (Preach, sis!!! 🙌🏼🙌🏼🙌🏼). Nicola recounted how intoxicating those crushes were at Penelope’s age. Nicola not really into the romantic genre but appreciated Bridgerton especially the Hastings ball when she, Harriet & Bessie were reduced to tears by how breathtakingly beautiful it was.

Claudia said one of her favorite scenes was the one where she told Daphne: “thanks for being perfect, so, I don’t have to be.”

GC spoke with JQ and JQ said that what she liked about Peneloise is the fact that they’re trailblazers. They talked about the dichotomy between Daphne and Peneloise. How Daphne is calmly revolutionizing ways while Peneloise are charging in and trailblazing.

Shonda Rhimes said Peneloise is one of the relationships she’s most excited to talk about

Their favorite moments on set involve food. They’re both Colins!!!! Lol. Claudia simping over the quesadilla and the vegan cheesy garlic bread. Both gushing over the magic sandwich - the best sandwich in the world. It’s hash brown, sausages, and ketchup in a roll. Claudia likes hers with brown sauce.

Both were fangirling over Adjoa & Golda.

Claudia’s favorite moment on set was the very early call times (0445). She would get coffee, have a ciggy, and chant (she’s Buddhist).

Nicola’s favorite moment she said was the the first days of the actors being together (May 2019). She was with Claudia, Luke T, Harriet Cains, Jonny Bailey & Phoebe. She liked the buzziness of starting something. She loves the ensemble quality of any job. Nothing happens in isolation & what you can create together.

#bridgerton #nicola coughlan #claudia jessie #Peneloise #penelopefeatherington #eloise bridgerton #Bridgerton podcast #Shondaland #netflix

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ankhashiva · 3 years

Text

War Of Souls Chapter 16

Heya! ~Yes.It’s here.After a year of this damned writers block.And of course I’m posting it right now, freshly made and translated.I hope you’ll appreciate it!If you like my Julius Novachrono x OC fanfic, please share, like and comment, it means a lot 🥰 War Of Souls: Synopsis: Two worlds, two sides of the same coin and an enemy wanting to destroy them. It was by wanting to protect the Earth from this enemy that she found herself projected into this other world, gravely wounded, in the Clover Kingdom. A man, whom she took for an angel, saved her life. But what she didn't know is that she should save his in turn. Because the enemy doesn’t just want these two worlds. He also resents these two people who, together, could change fate itself.This story starts a few days before Asta joining the Black Bulls. War Of Souls Chapter 16 : Nightmares and Reality - HERE CW: Angst, lots of sadness, mental torture, LOTS OF FLUFF BE WARNED OMGGGGG WHAT HAVE I DONE???

Previously It is your feelings that give you this mission. Do not reject them.

"I don’t reject them. I just intend to... lock them up if necessary."

It’s a programmed leak.

"It's not you who live with voices in the head. If I don't make this stone, madness will carry me away before."

We are you. And you are us.

"I am Katerina Bella. I am myself, I never wanted to be more."

You have no choice, neither have we.

"That’s why I’m doing this fucking rock. 'Cause I’ve never had a fucking choice."

This is not the way to go. You’re going to hurt more people than you’re going to save.

"It is not up to you to decide. I WILL TRACE MY LIFE AND SAVE JULIUS!"

My fist clenches and plunges into the workbench, breaking it in half. The cut stones roll to the ground, the pain in my knuckles is sharp, the blood beads on the broken wood. I slide down on my knees, exhausted. I put the amethyst around my neck, the cold chain contrasting with my burning skin. I feel my mana calm. I sigh, relieved. My gaze is on pink quartz, polished to perfection in a sphere the size of an orange.

"If I have to seal my heart to save the ones I love, I will do it without hesitation. No one will steal my most precious thing anymore. I will succeed where you failed, ladies. I will succeed where I failed, for lack of guts."

If I am to become... No. To become again the monstrous goddess that I was, I will. But first of all...

The Underworld is waiting for me.

???

Six months.

Six months since my return to Earth, to my home world.

Six months, during which my time stopped. Since Julius' death in Clover. Where Patri gave him the fatal blow, aided by William Vengeance's betrayal.

And where I was forcibly sent home, while the man I love was breathing his last breath.

It ruined my life.

I couldn’t save him, let alone say goodbye.

So I took refuge with my mother and father-in-law, temporarily moving in with them in Lorraine. I found a normal human life there, returning to work as a perfumery consultant in a large company.

I did not want to fall into a daily "metro-work-bed" but, pushed by my mother, worried very much for my mental health, I gave in after a month. I couldn’t, and I still can’t go back to Clover on my own. My powers aren’t strong enough to cross worlds. Aether is missing, there is only Eros and his wife Daphne who are thirty kilometers from my home, to visit me often and to invite me to endless drinking.

The first month of my return, I don’t really remember much of it. The only thing that resonated in my skull was the perpetual hangover that I felt when I drowned my grief in ambrosia, and the echo of Julius' sweet voice.

Drunken parties followed one after the other, my best friend Erika holding my hair when I puked my guts in the bathroom, Daphne handing me water bottles so I wouldn’t die dehydrated.

Even though dying has become a luxury for me ever since I totally became a goddess again. A goddess unable to save the man she loves.

Chronos had won.

I had lost everything.

But what everyone was unaware of, except Eros and Daphne, is that at the end of this month, I had used my pink quartz orb to enclose my emotions. All of my emotions.

All my emotions and feelings related to Julius, sealed in a crystal that I had polished and enchanted myself after my arrival in Clover.

If I had done this sooner, could I have saved him?

That’s a question I probably would never have an answer to. Monday, January 4, 2021

Open the store. Open the cash registers, launch the cashing program, receive the re-supply of the shelves. Prepare online orders. Greet co-workers who arrive one by one. Advise customers, sell them items. Take the lunch break, smoke cigarettes on cigarettes. Look at the pictures on my phone, those of Clover. Smoking cigarettes again on cigarettes. Falling into a picture with Julius. Looking at him calmly, without emotions. Smoking a last cigarette.

Perfume yourself, go back to work.

Counting the register, closing the perfumery. Walking in the city to reach the car, music in the earpieces. Smell the scent of black musk and sandalwood. Stop walking, turn around to find the origin of this unforgettable fragrance. But not find anything. Tu-dum

Get back on the road after a moment of doubt. Enter the car, turn on the engine, drive home. Parking in the garage next to my stepdad’s car, Steve.

Go home, kiss my mom on the cheek, fist bump with Steve. Take a shower, think about the smell after work.

Tu-dum

Sit on the couch, drink the aperitif with my family. Dinner, clear the table, go to my room. Being attacked by my two cats, Leo and JoJo. Let them sit on my legs, hidden under the blanket.

10pm

My phone is ringing.

Unknown number.

Do not answer.

Put the phone in "airplane" mode. Activate my alarm clock, fall asleep watching Steins Gate. Tuesday, January 5, 2021

Perfume yourself, go back to work.

Counting the register, closing the perfumery. Walking in the city to reach the car, music in the earpieces.

Feel the scent of black musk and sandalwood again. Stop walking, turn around to find the origin of this nostalgic fragrance. But not find anything.

Tu-dum Get back on the road after another moment of doubt. Enter the car, turn on the engine, drive home. Parking in the garage next to my stepdad’s car, Steve.

Go home, kiss my mom on the cheek, fist bump with Steve. Take a shower, think about the scent after work.

Sit on the couch, drink the aperitif with my family. Dinner, clear the table, go to my room. Being attacked by my two cats, Leo and JoJo. Let them sit on my legs, hidden under the blanket.

10pm

My phone is ringing.

Unknown number, like yesterday.

Do not answer.

Put the phone in "airplane" mode. Activate my alarm clock, fall asleep before the end of the Steins Gate season. Wednesday 13 January 2021

Open the store. Open the cash registers, launch the cashing program, receive the re-supply of the shelves. Prepare online orders. Greet co-workers who arrive one by one. Advise customers, sell them items. Take the lunch break, smoke cigarettes on cigarettes. Watch the videos on my phone, taken in Clover. Smile calmly, the heart still empty.

Perfume yourself, go back to work.

Counting the register, closing the perfumery. Walking in the city to reach the car, music in the earpieces.

For the umpteenth time, smell the scent of black musk and sandalwood. Stop walking, turn around to find the origin of this unforgettable fragrance. But find nothing, as usual. Tu-dum

Going back on the road, there is no place for doubt when madness has clearly insinuated itself in my mind. Enter the car, turn on the engine, drive home. Park in the garage, next to Steve’s car.

Go home, kiss my mom on the cheek, check in on Steve. Take a shower, think about the scent after work.

Sit on the couch, drink the aperitif with my family. Dinner, clear the table, go to my room. Being attacked by my two cats, Leo and JoJo. Let them sit on my legs, hidden under the blanket.

10pm

My phone rings, always at the same time.

The same unknown number, who never leaves a message.

Do not answer.

Put the phone in "airplane" mode. Activate my alarm clock, fall asleep in front of Steins Gate 0. Saturday 16 January 2021

Wake up without waking up. Pick up the phone, see a missed call.

It’s 10:30 in the morning.

Drinking coffee with the family. Eating an almond croissant. Take a shower, get ready, go to Luxembourg with Erika to buy alcohol and cigarettes for the evening at Eros and Daphne.

Go home to Erika, get on her 31, go to the mythical couple at 7pm sharp.

Being greeted by Daphne, always so stunning. Go into the living room, filled with familiar faces. Eros, my cousin James, Uncle Hades, my favorite cousin Persephone. Damien.

Ignore Damien.

Head for the buffet.

An appetizer for dinner.

Eat a few snacks, go to a contest of the biggest drinker with the girls.

Win the said contest.

To be completely drunk.

Smoking marijuana joints, being completely off the grid.

Isolate myself in the veranda to catch my breath. 10pm

My phone is ringing

I can’t stand it.

I pick up the phone. I’m about to scream, but a soft voice is ahead of me.

I recognize it.

Tu-dum

"After more than a week, you finally decide to pick up your phone. It’s a long time coming."

Tu-dum

I hold my hand before my mouth, trembling like a leaf. My knees slip away, I slide to the ground.

I feel the scent of black musk and sandalwood filling my lungs.

Tu-dum

My heart is contracting painfully.

"Breathe... I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you, baby." The bile settles in my throat. I swallow, then I manage to articulate gently.

"I saw you die... the dead cannot call the living..."

A little silence ensues. I must hallucinate. It must be that.

"Turn around and tell me what you see."

I obey mechanically, pivoting towards the bay window.

My vision is blurring.

White, red, gold and purple.

The colorful figure approaches me.

Tears leak from my eyes, my heart contracts painfully after more than five months of hibernation.

My phone slips from my right hand and falls heavily to the ground. A warm and familiar hand rests on my cheek, the thumb caressing the beading tear on the skin. The gold becomes a golden wheat mane by the sun, the violet glitters like an amethyst in the moonlight.

The shape is defined at the same time as my breath is blown.

The face that I missed the most in this world as in the other one finally appears to me and I can no longer rationalize my thoughts, already clouded by drugs of all kinds.

But this face so soft, so strong, so familiar smiles at me.

And the only thing I can do is throw myself into his arms. "Julius..."

I repeat his name again and again, like a litany, a prayer, a vow, to anchor this moment in reality.

His embrace tightens, his right hand on my neck, the other on my waist.

Then, after long minutes sitting on the ground, I step back to look him in the eyes.

Heterocromia eyes staring at his eyes holding the galaxy, the universe, in a purple hue.

Tu-dum

My thumb caresses his lower lip, fleshy and soft like a ripe apricot. A wave of well-being overwhelms my heart whose time had stopped. I desire only one thing, to embrace him with all my soul, with all my being.

Julius perceives this desire, his eyes glow brightly and his smile widens.

His hand takes mine, he kisses it. "It will have to wait, my Princess. You don’t belong here."

My trance breaks after he utters this strange sentence. Before my perplexed face, he continues.

"Nothing is a foregone conclusion. Not even this reality. Get out of this prison now. Get up and get out of this house. I opened a path for you."

"But... Julius..."

Julius helps me up and heads for the living room.

"Chronos holds you prisoner. Get out. Ignore the people here. They are illusions. Even I am one."

I look at him one last time, the incomprehension in me. But I obey him. I begin to run towards the crowded living room of my friends... Illusions from my friends. Damien tries to grab my arm, I get rid of his hold. Then Erika tries to hug me but I flee again. I run again, reaching the entrance. I open the door, a blinding blue light floods the darkness. I rush into it.

I'm finally breathing.

116

Tuesday 17 September 2019, during the night

Somewhere in the underworld

Eros felt the Aether's magic fluctuate. It had been more than two hours since the Primordial God had entered the psychic prison in which Katerina was in and he was trying to save her. And as the Primordial God of Love, Eros lent a strong hand to his favorite couple... Or at least, future favorite couple. These two have an extraordinary temporality, the labels are not enough to describe them.

The blue sphere protecting Aether disintegrated and the man landed on his feet, exhausted. Eros rushed towards him, holding him with an arm behind his back. The God of Love sat the masked God on the bench, who took off his mask in order to breathe properly. "Did the Primordial God of Time manage to get his sweet and stubborn half out of this nameless mess?" Ask Eros, already knowing the answer. His pale pink eyes stared at the tall blond, who turned his lavender eyes towards him.

"It took me a few months in that time prison, but yes, I managed to free her."

Eros laughed warmly, tapping on Aether's back. He then handed him a cup of an orange drink that the God of Time swallowed with a blow.

"After that, if Katerina doesn’t understand who you are, I will feel compelled to parade around Clover completely naked, a sign in my hand saying TAKE OFF AETHER'S MASK YOU STUPID GODDESS!" Aether, perked up by the divine drink, leaned his back against the bench, pensive.

"I have already broken some dozens of time travel laws to redirect Katerina to a less bleak future. Her making that quartz sphere was somewhere a chance and a premature act, it created a time fixed point into which I could intrude."

"But in which Chronos could also interfere, and imprison her."

Aether nodded, the features of his face pulling as he thought of Chronos.

"Right. In this life... Kat is literally freewheeling. Her actions are almost unpredictable. I only see them a few days in advance, whereas before I could predict them up to a year in advance depending on gravity. Having created this sphere months before its initial creation disrupted the course of time and of course, Chronos felt it. He took advantage of her weakness to imprison her in her sleep and change her memories. It’s a low blow." Eros replied immediately.

"A low blow that could very well add oil to the blaze that consumes Katerina. She is the Phoenix, even human, every ordeal she has undergone has drastically made her evolve. I wonder how she will react when she wakes up."

Aether scratched his chin, thinking.

"We are at a time crossroads. Knowing her character, she can very well run away for days to put her ideas in order. This time, I can’t predict exactly what his next actions will be. '

Daphne, who listened to the conversation in the distance, joined the two men, with food in hand. Eros and Aether served in the bowl of fresh fruit. "Personally, and knowing Katerina differently from you, I rather think that she will join Julius, kiss him, and then run away for a few days out of shame for having just kissed the man she loves and who she had silently promised to maintain a certain distance." Daphne said, sitting on her husband’s lap.

Eros laughs while imagining the scene.

"You should replace Apollo as an oracle, my dear Nymph." "I have already married one god, I do not intend to replace another." Retorted the interested one.

A slight smile appeared on the face of the Primordial God of Time.

Tuesday 17 September 05h

Tartarus In this part of the Underworld, imprisoning the greatest criminals and threats of the magical world, resounded a guttural cry full of hatred. The deep pit keeping the evil Titan trembled at the echoes provoked by his rage. The seal resisted the attack on his aura, alerting his jailers.

Hades appeared above Chronos' prison, an apparent mocking smile.

The God of Hell felt satisfied. Proud of his niece Rhea-Tayet, Katerina.

Proud of Aether.

The two beings capable of putting his father Titan out of his hinges.

But above all, out of harm’s way.

A small hand caressed his short snow-coloured hair. Hades turned around and saw his wife, Persephone, floating at his height. He wrapped a lock of her pink fleece on his finger.

"Soon... things will soon be better for them." Whispers Hades, hasty.

"I hope so. They deserve to be happy at last." Persephone replied, loud enough for her crystalline voice to reach Chronos.

07am

My eyes open in a heartbeat. I am dripping with sweat, my breath is erratic. I look at my phone and realize several things.

First of all, I’m still in Clover.

Secondly, it was only a few hours between my return home, my nervous breakdown in my father’s workshop and now.

Thirdly, this vision that I had.... This mental prison.... It was so realistic that I thought it was real. My reality.

Julius was dead. Killed by the captain of the Golden Dawn, who harbored an elf soul. I had returned to Earth in the same way I had arrived here, without warning. Chronos had defeated us. I leave my bed to take a shower, disoriented and the heart bruised. Everything around me seems to me attenuated, my brain is numb. My head hurts, and the weight of my wet hair doesn’t help. It seems that I unconsciously used my magic again during my sleep, my hair reaches my buttocks.

I dry myself, put on black jogging pants and a tee-shirt of the same color, put on my grey sneakers and run out of the house, passing in front of Papa in the kitchen, drinking his coffee.

I need to see Julius.

This sentence resonates in my head over and over again as I run into the nature slowly waking up, my lungs put to the test. I take an impulse to the ground and fly in the morning sky, towards the Castle.

I scan the cloister leading to the floor where Julius' office is and my heart misses a leap. Julius

He’s here... he’s really here...

I begin my descent to the cloister he is about to leave and, in a fiery volute, touches the ground, just a few metres from him.

The tall blond smiles at me and astonishment appears before my bewildered face.

I try to catch my breath, my rib cage in full effort, moving fast. The sounds are blocked in my throat.

Julius... you’re alive. you’re really alive. My gasping calms as the eyes of the Wizard King seek an answer in mine.

My body’s not responding.

And for once, I agree with my other two inner voices.

My right leg goes forward, then the left. One step at a time.

Then, my right hand grabs the white fur collar adorning Julius' cape. The left slips on his neck.

I feel the tension in his muscles, the surprise permeating them.

Time stops around us. I stand on my toes and, without understanding what I am doing, slip my lips over his, in a sweet kiss.

He doesn't repel me, though momentarily paralyzed by stupefaction, and wraps his arms around my shoulders.

The kiss becomes urgent, I dominate the dance, desperate, in a primary need to be reassured. My embrace tightens, his lips open, allowing me silently to pursue this unexpected kiss.

Our tongues dance harmoniously together, timidly then intensely. Everything seems right. Normal. Destined.

He tastes so sweet.

Addictive.

The only drug I need.

Time stops around us.

But it’s back in my heart.

#Black Clover #black clover fanfiction #black clover fanfic #julius novachrono #julius novachrono x reader #julius novachrono x oc #katerina bellafotia #oc

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panatmansam · 4 years

Text

One of my siblings was teasing me about this blog and pointing out that I would probably not enjoy myself as much if I was not writing for an audience. This unnamed sibling is a writer but works alone on a novel. I assume it’s a novel and not an unibomber manifesto or a “Shining” style repetitive catchphrase out of the next great “Sophie’s Choice” style Meryl Streep vehicle.

She won’t let me read it. Moreover, she is little impressed by anything I have to say and that really irritates me because I am far more interesting that any of her actual friends.

In any case I started to look over my old journals and even blog posts from the days when I might have had only a few thousand followers. I had fun in those days just as much as I do now. I enjoyed writing for just myself.

I dug out my paper journal from just before my first illness and one of the last entries is a story about Ann’s pet Hamster getting out of its cage, coming into my little home office area where I had a daybed type thing and climbed on my chest as I was napping. I launched into it the stratosphere.

I was feeling unwell. I remember. I was sleeping in my office lest I awaken Leigh.

Then nothing. Darkness for a long time. Then scribbled notes on legal pads mostly illegible. Greek symbols. Geometry.

None of it makes any sense to me now. I was insane then. Notes from my underground. Living at my mothers. Trying to learn to think again. In and out of hospitals finally in. In for nine months. Locked facility. I soon had the run of the place. The nurses were almost all Filipinia and they called me “Mr. Sam” and we spoke in bits of Tagalog that I knew. I was nuts but still charming apparently.

The notes made more sense later. Stories. Then they go online and out of boxes. One day the boxes will get tossed. That's okay they’re for me not for anybody else.

I have this connection to my former mind because I lost it. People say “He lost his mind”. I did lose it. Nobody took it from me. I was not a victim. It was not lifestyle nor was it society’s fault. Certainly there may have been choices I could have made which would have impacted what happened to me but I doubt it. I was under the care of doctors. I had good medical insurance. I had a decent income and a young working wife. I was fortunate in many ways.

Life just sometimes does this to you.

⚡

Sometimes you die. Sometimes you make it. It’s not fate, kismet or destiny.

You can call it whatever you want. Call it the will of God. It changes nothing. Just be ready cow poke. The freakin’ horse is gonna kick you in the head eventually. It is in the nature of horses to do so. You just you know, stay away from her blind side and talk to her very calmly and in a soothing tone so she knows it's YOU there and not some predator.

Wait why are we talking about getting kicked in the head by horses?

That does it, I’m outta here.

#text #journal #writing

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ordinarylittleme · 3 years

Text

Disclaimer: I don’t claim myself to have been a close confidante with intimate first-hand knowledge. This is my own recollection of the time which I knew him. Due to memories never being perfect, I don’t even claim to be the most reliable narrator.

I picked DT resistant materials as an act of rebellion. I had already had my mother insist that I take two languages, and history was forced upon me (the subject I truly wanted clashed timings with one of the languages). Desperate for one subject I could say I truly chose, I played a counting rhyme and picked the result that came out of the game.

This means I had no expectations whatsoever when I begun the course. I did not know Mr Hattam beforehand, and indeed had never heard of him before year ten. I saw his name on my timetable and simply prepared myself for two years of a subject I had no clue about aside from Lionel pages and a few talks.

What struck me instantly was how patient he was. Even as I proved myself utterly incompetent, with no sense of scale or any sketching skills to be spoken of, he would explain things to me and, indeed, let me watch him at work to see if I could pick anything up. (I couldn’t - and now I’ll never be able to - but it was fascinating to see his hands glide across a piece of paper to create drawings, or to watch him grip a cutting knife and drag down on cardboard, severing it in one neat stroke.) And he was also very approachable. He was friendly and easy to talk to, not once making one feel ashamed of asking questions, of not knowing something.

Because I assumed (and as my former English teacher would say, to assume is to make an ass out of you and me) that I would have two years with him as my teacher, it had never struck me to cherish any of the time I had in his class. I was an astoundingly awful student too. I slacked off and tended to not listen in class. I had no discipline or motivation to do better, because I wasn’t failing and that was good enough for me. I knew this was a toxic cycle to be in, and that any teacher would have to struggle to put up with it calmly. Working under the assumption that I’d have two years with him as my teacher, I’d planned at the end of year eleven to write something to thank him. Writing, because that was my calling and what I’d always enjoyed doing, and because it’d be permanent and something he could’ve kept.

(I suppose this is the part where I make contrasts - from a thank you note to an eulogy - from the expectations I’d taken for granted to the real world that shattered them - from a gift to a purge - and yet it doesn’t make any of it hurt less. Is this part of a coming-of-age, from a child to someone slightly less so? I didn’t ask for it. Nobody asked for it. A budding writer always gets told to kill their darlings and whoever was in charge of writing out our fates must have took that one particularly seriously.)

When I found out he’d died via Whatsapp, I couldn’t believe it at first. I’d reacted in shock. Then I searched up his name on Google, read several articles, and the news hit me as I was scrolling through insensitive online comments. I was not going to see him again after Christmas. Nobody was going to see him again after Christmas. He wasn’t even going to have this Christmas, and out of all the people I can think of, he’d deserved this Christmas and many more so much. To have time spent with his loved ones, as safely as could be with the pandemic rules.

I did not know I was capable of crying while typing, but I managed it that day, when I sent a profanity-laden email he would never read to his account. I left wet fingerprints on my keyboard and my eyelids were so heavy by the time I was done. I’d gone through my NEA and stared at his name in my edit history. Clicked on my Google classroom and scrolled to see his name attached to his posts. Logged into Lionel and saw his name on my timetable and his blurry photograph on my summary page. And then realized that these were the final things I’d have left of him, and some of that (the photograph, the name on my timetable) wouldn’t stay once we had a new teacher.

A new teacher! I knew it would be inevitable but the thought of a replacement was incomprehensible to me at that moment, lost in the regret-stained past. I was viewing every past lesson, face-to-face and online, with the sepia-toned nostalgia filter of my mind. How had I even managed to remember so much? My memory was infamously awful, I could never memorize a single script or note that I’d need for a test, and yet -

One of the final face-to-face conversations I’d had with him was when I had to pick my options for IB. I had never been good at any of the sciences, but had never expected to be so terrible that none of them were viable options for me. Seeing biology, chemistry and physics all marked in bright red for me on Lionel was when I knew I’d have to do one of the DT options. And I knew that textiles and food technology were not for me, since I was not interested in either. This left behind two options, CAD CAM and human factors, neither of which I had a clue about - and I needed the approval of my teacher in order to take either one.

Standing outside his door, I’d waited a whole tutor time and break and only got a fleeting five minutes in which he told me to come back and talk to him after fourth period if I wanted to get further information. Which was, of course, not ideal as I had to pick up my brother and rush home with him if either of us wanted to be on time for fifth period. But the final two years of my secondary school life was more important than one hour of my IGCSE life. So I’d agreed and soon found him at a food tech classroom.

And there we talked. I’d told him of my situation and he asked me why I didn’t just not take IB (the answer: ha, as if either of my parents would let me do that). He’d informed me that the only reason I wasn’t flunking his class was because he’d offered me a lot of help, and that another teacher might not have been so lenient. (To which I’d secretly agreed - God knows I’d gotten a lot more assistance than most of my peers - though at the time it had wounded my pride to hear from his mouth the true depth of my ineptitude.) In his opinion, the IB courses wouldn’t suit me, but he’d talk to the head of DT before making any final decision. He’d probably approve me anyway, he told me, even if he personally disapproved of my “poor academic decisions”.

I’d smiled then, though he wouldn’t have seen it with the mask on my face. “Thanks - you’re an angel!” My classmates and I, we’d all come to an agreement that he was quite likely one of the loveliest teachers we had the honor of being taught by. Kind and compassionate and genuinely cognizant of what it was like to be crushed beneath a heavy workload and parental pressure (he had children who were also in KGV and when he spoke of them you could almost feel the paternal love and pride radiating off his voice). And true to his word, when I got home, he’d sent an email telling me he’d approved of my choice.

Regret for the things we did can be tempered by time; it is regret for the things we did not do that is inconsolable. Why had I so ruthlessly eradicated everything he’d sent from my email? (I did this not just to his emails - I hated seeing old, unnecessary emails in my inbox and deleted everything I could as soon as possible - and had never regretted it until now.) Why did I not take his advice when he was still here to give it? Why did it never occur to me to stay behind and ask questions, considering I was so bad at DT? So many questions that had, and now will never have, answers.

I tidied up my old folders and found several sketches he’d drawn and given to me to keep. “Your sketching is not up to par - keep these for guidance should you ever need to draw.” At the time I’d put them away and given no further thought to them. On the day I received news of his death, I clung to them with shaking fingers and broke down into tears, so suddenly filled with contrition and shame and the sickening feeling that I’d selfishly taken a lot of things for granted. He’d drawn them so quickly, as naturally as breathing to him (and what skill he’d had too - I’d admired it so much in him but wasn’t ever able to emulate any of it), and had probably given them no more thought than I did. All this I rationally knew, but emotionally could not handle.

What was going to happen now? Well, life went on. Except his wife (now his widow) and children and family and friends were, for the rest of their lives, going to go on without him. Except his students - and how many had he had, how many had he influenced so much like he had with me? - were now going to continue their education without him. He’d always loved to teach. “If a student comes to your class and is happy about it, you’re doing something right. That’s what I always try to do.” Except his dog (an adorable fixture in online lessons, one that I’d cooed over alongside my peers) would live out the rest of their life without their owner. Life went on, but I’d like to think that his legacy will too - the goal is not to live forever, but to create something that will.

It is not length of life, but depth of life, or so Emerson had opined. I don’t know about anyone else. I think his life had great depth to me. Though I will never know of any secrets, struggles, or life-changing experiences he’d had (and this will haunt me, I’m sure, when the turbulent tide that is my emotions come crashing down on the shore of me once more), I already saw enough of it to choke on the many memories I had of him, some of it tinged now with a bitter irony. So many things I’d said of him struck me as being malicious, now, instead of just (what had at the time seemed to me) petty annoyance.

One example that will serve my point best, I think, is when he said he was excited to go cycling over the holidays and that he was excited to see us after Christmas. As we all know, he did get to cycle, but nobody would see him after Christmas. I find myself oddly fixated on the timing. He’d passed away ten days before Christmas, in an unexpected accident, cycling in the evening. (Why had he gone cycling in the evening, out of all the possible times? wails the voice in my mind. We all know the danger of Bride’s Pool Road. Could he not have at least gone in the daytime, with plenty of light to see where he was going?) Or when he said he’d help me with my aforementioned abysmal artistic ability in term two, “because you aren’t going to pass with your current standard, I’m sorry to say” (and he sounded like he meant it too, like he’d be just as upset as I would be if I failed, and this struck me as unusually empathetic when I couldn’t find such understanding in most other teachers).

Wracked with guilt and despondency, I knew I’d never see things the same way again. How had it taken his death for me to fully appreciate him for the incredible teacher and person that he had been? He’d edited my NEA on the 10th of December at 6:50 pm, when I personally hadn’t even touched it since November ended. He’d gone over my mock revision slides and fixed some questions I’d gotten wrong, again while I was unaware of it and offline. How was I going to return to school and see my desk in the classroom, which had been put right beside his so he could keep an eye on me to ensure I was actually working, knowing that even if I slacked off now, he wouldn’t be there to tell me off? If I messed up again, this time under a new teacher, what was going to happen to me then? How was I going to be able to help anyone else affected by his death if I could barely begin to help myself? When I did my exams, how was my performance going to reflect on him?

Never again would I see him or hear his voice. Never again will I hear him call me, or any of my classmates, “son” or “sausage”. No kk queen on Google meets. No longer any need to try and hear his words through an accented voice. No more saying arrivederci as a lesson ended. No big, sincere smile that he seemed to have for everybody. No little comments that jolt you once you realize he’d paid attention to little details. Because the next thing you know, one split second, and then he was gone. There would be nothing that I had always associated with him - the booming voice, the kind eyes, the impromptu questions after our wellbeing. (I had never asked after his wellbeing, and I used to complain that these questions cut into time I could be spent learning. What a fool I had been, still am, probably always will be.) There would be no feeling of comfort, of being at home as I once again watched him work his magic over my class and made us so fond towards him. (Because we were - even those of us who were bad at his taught subject, such as myself, always acknowledged he was undoubtedly an affable and good-natured man and couldn’t quite bear to complain about anything except the coursework without feeling like a monster afterwards.)

Is there still a sense of shock, lingering from the absurdity, the abnormality, the absolute untruthfulness of it all? To me, it came across as surreal - how could this have happened to him? Why him? I could not think of anyone less deserving of a death caused by blunt head trauma than him. (Especially when I took into account all the times he’d told us to be careful when using dangerous equipment, to be aware of our safety.) A blink of an eye and the only thing left was a devastating silence, and the next thing we knew all was gone. And only when there was nothing left to distract my eyes could I truly see myself for the evil thing I was, on a path of self-destruction, on the edge of and yet never entirely falling apart or healing.

I knew he would not be immortal and that I’d probably outlive him, since I was decades younger. I did not expect this to happen, however. Penning a eulogy for a teacher was an experience I had never wanted. I thought I’d get to at least have two years. I had not gotten to say a proper farewell (had anyone?) or express gratitude for his teaching and guidance. I always thought of him as an angel, even when I was upset at him for a comment or grade. Heaven-sent, with the glow of a sort of divinity that comes from the heart that lit up the classroom. The kind of light that touches a thousand different souls and sparks a fire. He’d believed in me, even when I let him down, and when I was losing focus of what was important he could always remind me of it with his caring disposition. And all I can do now is to wish for his peace wherever I go. May he find happiness and fulfillment and laughter in whatever comes next.

Mostly it is loss which teaches us about the worth of things. ~ Arthur Schopenhauer

#badly written rubbish

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honestandsincere · 5 years

Text

reputation

Y/n writes something that Ethan doesn’t like

----

“This is preposterous! Totally and utterly absurd! It’s almost laughable!” “Mr Dolan, I’m terribly sorry-” “Sorry doesn’t cut it, Howard! This is my entire reputation we’re talking about here. This is slander!” “Again, Mr Dolan, if there’s anything I can do-” “Don’t publish the damn article, Howard!”

Ethan Dolan slams a tight fist onto the desk in front of him before pushing himself out of the worn leather chair. He grunts in frustration when his eyes meet his brother’s, sending him a look of warning. Rage pulses through him; he feels his forehead pound with stress. Ethan likes to think he’s untouchable, but this article might just be his downfall.

“I’m afraid, Mr Dolan, that the decision of whether or not the article should be published lies in the hands of its author,” Howard Benson, editor in chief of LIFE Magazine says calmly. Ethan takes a deep breath and walks past his brother towards the floor length window of the office, his eyes scanning the skyscrapers and seemingly tiny reflective pieces of glass. He chuckles in incredulity, knowing that if push comes to shove he could end the publication entirely. But he doesn’t want to destroy them just yet. “Forgive me, Howard, but aren’t you in charge of the final draft of the magazine? Surely this is all under your control?” “I wish I could do something about it, Mr Dolan. LIFE Magazine puts all responsibility in the hands of our journalists, that’s what makes us so unique.”

Ethan pivots quickly, his head snapping towards Benson’s direction, the cool facade he’d put on now fading. Grayson can see his brother is on the cusp of another verbal explosion but makes no attempt to stop him. “It makes you a joke of a publication! This article is about me, my business! I should have a say in what gets released!” “I understand that Mr Dolan, but you did agree to an unbiased interview. Miss y/l/n simply wrote about her observations.” Ethan clenches his jaw, walking back towards the so-called boss’ desk. He presses his palms against the mahogany, pushing his weight towards Benson, “What a pathetic excuse for a journalist, Howard. I should’ve known she would manipulate everything I said for clout, some kind of twisted kudos-”

“Ethan,” Grayson finally intervenes from the back of the room, “watch what you’re saying.” The older twin rolls his eyes, “If you read the article, Grayson you’d understand I’m entitled to an opinion on Miss y/l/n considering she shat all over our business’ name.” “Miss y/l/n has been one of our most esteemed writers for the past three years, Mr Dolan. She’s incredibly well received by our readers. This article is not a reflection of her work in its entirety,” despite being a man of maybe sixty, Howard Benson seems intimidated by Ethan’s presence.

Ethan pushes himself from the desk, crossing his arms over his chest. He feels as though he’s overheating, never has he been so disrespected in his entire career. “Bring her in,” he shrugs. “I’m sorry-” “Did I stutter, Howard? I said bring her in.” “Ethan, bro you’ve gotta calm down,” Grayson sighs. “When we’re filing for bankruptcy because the entirety of New York turns against us, I’ll calm down,” Ethan spits.

Benson reaches forward for his telephone and Ethan watches as he pushes a sequence of numbers into the machine. “Hi Mary, could you please send in y/n? Thank you,” he sounds tired, weary. He doesn’t look up to gauge Ethan’s reaction.

----

“So, Mr Dolan, what was it that drew you to business?”

Ethan leans back into the plush velvet armchair of The Ritz-Carlton’s restaurant. He weaves his thick, ring-clad fingers together and pushes a small hum from his full lips. “I guess I’ve always had an entrepreneurial streak in me. My brother and I would sell candy during recess at school, I’ve always been good at selling.”

Y/n y/l/n taps her ballpoint pen against her chin after scribbling down each of his words, “Could you let our readers know what it is you do?” “My brother Grayson and I are what I like to call the ‘New Real Estate’. Dolan & Dolan buys derelict and abandoned plots of land across the city for huge companies like hotel chains or shopping complexes.” “Interesting,” she nods slowly, Ethan pays attention to the way her brow furrows in focus as she’s listening to him, “what project are you most proud of thus far?”

He takes a sip of his gin and tonic, letting the satisfying burn tingle the back of his throat. He swills the liquid around the crystal glass before speaking, “Last year we found a plot in Brooklyn, a real shabby place. It’s now just had planning permission from the council for a new Four Seasons Hotel. It’ll generate a few hundred jobs and will be superbly beneficial for the community.” Y/n grimaces, but he’s too busy checking his phone to notice. Ethan’s black pinstripe suit and shiny Gucci loafers make her feel a bit queasy, this man is wearing her month’s paycheck. She glances at her recording device that’s on the table in front of them. They’ve been talking for approximately ten minutes and she already knows she can’t stand the man.

His arrogance is disgusting; she didn’t miss the tone he used with the waiter when he explained that the table by the window had already been reserved. She notices the way he refuses the engage in any of her questions that don’t involve him. When she’d asked him about his opinion on the city’s new plan to cut carbon emissions he’d been incredibly nonchalant, and yet as soon as she’d referred to his success at the Business Awards earlier this year it was hard to get him to shut up. Y/n had done her research into Dolan & Dolan. She knows what they do. All this talk about ‘derelict and abandoned’ patches of land across the city is a joke. Essentially, they wipe out other businesses around them, forcing them to sell their office blocks or warehouses to the brothers who then go on to rake in millions from these huge chains. It’s foul play. There’s nothing commendable about it. But she’s not going to let Ethan Dolan know that she knows.

“So how do you go about sourcing this land, Mr Dolan?” she asks innocently, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He smirks at her, loving the way she seems so dazzled by his presence, “Well, nobody loves this city as much as my brother and I. A lot of the time we head out into deprived areas and ask local people what kind of change they’d like to see in their communities. Most of the time they’re looking for business, something that’s gonna draw people to their corner of the world, y’know?”

Y/n hums in false agreement. Another lie. Ethan Dolan has never set foot in a ‘deprived’ area in his life. Dolan & Dolan’s main projects are based in the city center, the big highrise buildings that are constantly being refurbished are all down to them. Buying out businesses. Admittedly, y/n cannot hold him responsible for making people redundant. Having rifled through what must have been thousands of documents online, it seems that Dolan & Dolan employs those that worked for the businesses they destroyed. This young man in front of her, his pretense of integrity, is sitting on one of the biggest empires in the city. But he’s not a good man.

“Earlier this year, Vogue labeled you one of the ‘most eligible bachelors in the world’. How does that make you feel?” “I think you’re mistaken because I rank number one on that list,” he laughs at her, watching the way she clenches her jaw, “In all honesty, it doesn’t bother me.” Y/n wants to roll her eyes, his words seem humble and innocent but it’s his tone that gives him away. It’s like he knows this interview will look nothing but praising in print. Ethan Dolan is making her feel stupid. She hates it. “Finally, what are your aspirations for the future, Mr Dolan?”

Ethan leans towards her, setting his glass on the table and not breaking eye contact, “I guess, Miss y/l/n, I just wanna make the business world a better place for young philanthropists like myself.”

----

Y/n y/l/n would be Ethan’s cup of tea if he didn’t hate her. She’s pretty, well dressed and clearly an educated young lady. He can’t stand her.

As she walks through Benson’s door, her wide smile falters. Y/n’s eyes meet Ethan’s and the softness of her features harden. She sends him a curt nod and shakes Grayson’s extended hand with mandatory politeness. Y/n looks like she belongs in an office, her pencil skirt, and crisp white shirt make her seem professional yet youthful. It’d be cute if he didn’t want to ruin her career. Howard has risen from his chair to greet y/n, an almost sympathetic look on his wrinkled face, “Miss y/l/n, thank you for joining us.” “Of course, Mr Benson, what can I do for you?”

Ethan scoffs, “Don’t play dumb.” Both Grayson and Benson seem shocked by his behavior. Y/n wasn’t expecting anything less, “Excuse me, Mr Dolan?” “You’re a smart girl, don’t mess me about,” he’s leaning against the window, not feeling the need to move towards her in order to assert his dominance. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to elaborate, Mr Dolan,” y/n remains composed. “That article you wrote, it’s very hyperbolic.” “Mr Dolan, I don’t write fiction.” “You seem to have dabbled in it, y/l/n.” “I wrote about my impressions of you and your business-” “You made up a whole lotta shit-”

“Ethan,” Grayson warns, cocking a brow at his brother. Ethan shoots him a look telling him to keep his mouth shut. “Have you read this magazine before, Mr Dolan?” she asks, walking to the water machine beside Benson’s desk. “Of course I have,” he rolls his eyes. “Well then you’d know our motto,” she pours herself a glass of water and cradles it in her hands. Y/n watches as Ethan straightens himself into a standing position and holds the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I don’t see how your motto relates to this issue, Miss y/l/n.” “The Elegance Of Honesty Needs No Adornment,” she says as if it were a universally known fact. Howard Benson nods. Ethan sends him a glare. He stops nodding.

“You see, Mr Dolan as a journalist not only am I paid to be honest, it’s my duty to provide our readers with the integrity and honesty they deserve to be given.” “Again, this is not relevant.” “Mr Dolan, you lied to me during our interview, I couldn’t not write about that.” her tone is firm. “You have no right to include information beyond our interview in your article. I agreed to be featured on your cover as New York’s youngest businessman, not to be ridiculed,” Ethan looks at her with so much intensity it’s a wonder he doesn’t bore holes through her eyes. “I’m sorry that the truth angers you, Mr Dolan. Is there anything I can do for you?” “Don’t publish the article, y/n,” this is the first time she’s heard him say her name, it sounds alien in his accent, almost wrong. “Mr Dolan, I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

Ethan groans, “I’ll sue!” he exclaims, “I’ll take you to court for slander.” He expects her to respond, but y/n doesn’t flinch. She knows the truth. She knows what he’s like. Howard Benson begins to panic, he sends y/n a look of worry. LIFE Magazine cannot afford a court case, not one filed by Ethan Dolan. “Your integrity as a publication will be severely maimed, I’m sorry Howard. But Miss y/l/n has given me no choice.” Benson squeezes his eyes shut, deliberating what he should do. Y/n turns to watch him, praying he won’t give in to Dolan. “Y/n, I’m so sorry but...”

Grayson sighs in relief, Ethan’s smile is as wide as the horizon and Y/n’s eyes are the size of saucers. Never once has Howard undermined the magazine’s main principle. She’s outraged. “Mr Dolan, I apologize for the inconvenience,” Howard says begrudgingly. “Thank you, Howard. I always knew you were a good guy,” Ethan walks past y/n and extends a hand or Benson to shake. Y/n has never seen her boss look so defeated. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, Miss Lewis,” Ethan smirks turning to look at her. She says nothing, staring at his attractive face and feeling sicker by the second. He pats her shoulder almost sympathetically and walks towards the door, Grayson following him.

Y/n waits for them to leave before she moves. She looks to Howard, “I’ll start writing a new piece,” she says. He opens his mouth to respond but he can’t seem to say anything. Y/n sighs and turns on her heels.

----

Ethan Dolan : The City’s Brightest

He can’t deny it sounds good. It looks good too, his face plastered on every newsstand, the entire city seeing his suited glory. His hair is swept in a mass of styled curls, his scruff makes him appear rugged but professional. He always does photograph well.

His inbox is full. Every one of his contacts desperately praising him for the brilliant article. Everybody fawning over his generosity and admirable need to give back to the community. He’s witty, considerate and intelligent. Y/l/n’s words couldn’t have painted him in a better light. Ethan almost likes her. Almost.

Ethan Dolan is undeniably attractive, in his looks and his mannerisms. He is nothing short of welcoming, polite and respectful. As he looks over Central Park with an animated smile, he seems young; in awe of this city and all it has to offer. He speaks of his family with a warm fondness that’s hard to find in many of his generation, his close ties to home echoing in his business today...

Ethan feels like he can breathe now. There’s nothing he can fault. He has no qualms, it’s perfect. He almost wants to reach out to her, maybe follow her on Instagram just to show his gratitude. Ethan would quite like to see her again, maybe talk to her a little more. He likes that she's so headstrong. He lays the magazine out on his desk and exhales in relief. His face stares back at him in black and white, the headline blinding but brilliant.

Grayson walks into their shared office, a small spring in his step. He hands Ethan the coffee he'd asked Carol, their assistant to go and get from downstairs. Ethan thanks him. "It's a great article bro," Grayson chuckles as he flops into his leather swivel chair and spins himself around, "that y/n can write." "Yeah, I know," Ethan nods, sipping his now lukewarm drink. "I googled how many readers LIFE gets," Grayson continues, logging into his computer on the desk that's opposite Ethan's. "Really?" "Yep! Take a wild guess of how many New Yorkers now think you're the 'Brightest'," "I dunno, like a million?" Grayson snorts, "4 mil, bro! Plus another like 20 million online!"

Ethan's eyes widen. This is insane, incredible even. The business will be booming in the next few days, he's sure of it. The Dolan Twins will be on the guest list for every event the city has to offer. He can see TV interviews, more magazine articles, the paparazzi swarming around the double doors of Dolan & Dolan HQ. Ethan can picture summer in the Hamptons with all of their clients, polo games and champagne. 24 million. "Thank God they never published the first draft," he laughs to himself, setting his coffee down on the desk and picking up the magazine. "I never got to read it," Grayson shrugs, "what was so bad about it anyway?"

Suddenly Ethan's chest feels tight. His hands are now clammy and his head starts to pound. He's broken into a cold sweat and suddenly his suit feels about three sizes too small. Y/n y/l/n knows. She knows everything. This young woman with 24 million readers knows all about Dolan & Dolan. She probably still has that first article lurking in a folder on her goddamn laptop. Ethan feels sick. There's no way he can let that get out. He'll die before that article gets published.

His head snaps up to look at Grayson, "Get LIFE on the phone. I need to speak to my new best friend."

-------

I should be studying but instead I wrote this! Big shoutout to @babyboydxlan for the pic. Hope you guys liked this! I kinda wanna make it a series, but let me know your thoughts! Lots and lots and lots of love!! xxx

#dolan twins #ethan dolan #ethan dolan imagine #ethan dolan fanfic #ethan dolan one shot #ethan x reader #ethan dolan x reader #ethan dolan blurb #grayson dolan #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan x reader #grayson x reader #dolan twins imagine #dolan twins fanfic #dolan twins blurb #dolan twins oneshot #new york #reputation

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grgie · 5 years

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so i made this post about three years ago and i figured it could do with an update as most some of those links dont work no more, so here you go!! free stuff to help you write with less distractions babey!!!

websites

yarny is free website what has a word counter, and when you start typing, all distractions fade away! you can also save as much as you want if you sign up (also the website very nearly went bust a while ago, so by checking it out you can help keep it alive!)

calmly writer is the same as the chrome extension above, but as the website in case you dont have chrome

writer is a really cool extension that makes you look like a hacker, and it runs offline!

draftin is another free website that is completely distraction free and a great tool for editing your work

oTranscribe helps you to transcribe audio files, and has loads of really useful features (use the voice notes app on ur phone!!)

gingko is an online site that is great if you need to have a specific format for your writing (eg screenplay, PhD etc.) (free but limited)

nanowrimo this is such a great writing tool! and the website has recently been updated so you can track your writing projects all throughout the year, not just november!! (they also offer lots of discount codes for writing programmes so if you want to spend money on a programme check it out before you buy!

zenpen dead simple and completely free!! has a light and dark mode as well as the option to go full screen

chrome extensions

calmly writer this extension also works offline and even has a built in dyslexic mode!

litewriter allows you to synchronise your notes across multiple devices, and customise you background and font!

google office offline dead useful if you use google docs as it allows you to write offline which i find helps reduce distractions massively

apps

monospace is a phone app that is available on android that is really useful for writing on the go, for whenever inspiration hits!

voice notes this is something you should already have! i use this whenever i get an idea but dont want to/am too tired to bother writing it down!

editing websites + extensions

cliche finder does what it says on the tin

hemingway app is a life saver for all you students, it grades your paper, and gives you advice for improving your essays

wordcounter counts your words and ranks the most frequently used words to see what words you overuse

honourable mentions

microsoft word i know what ur thinking. helena thats nothing groundbreaking (and its free if ur a student!! download w ur student email!!!) hear me out. word has a new feature called “focus” and its so good! mutes all notifications on ur computer while ur writing so you don’t distracted

forest app grow a lil tree babey!! if u get distracted it dies :(

the good place stumbled across this but its pretty great! replaces curse words with good plae alternatives, but most importantly, it has built in break reminders (aka remind u to stop scrolling tumblr)

thats all for now! obviously if u have more please add them!!! happy writing!!

- helena xx

#masterpost #studyblr #writing #writers block #help #my post #the good place #nanowrimo #this is an update to that post i did 3 years ago btw!#here it is!

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koganphrancis · 4 years

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Shameless really had to scour the history books to come up with the reason I guess they’ve landed on for Ian’s marriage issues.

It would’ve made a lot more sense if they had brought them up in S6, but, no, Mickey was gone by then and Ian was about to experience actual love for the first time in his life-or so the show wanted us to believe. And that’s why I have to call bullshit on Ian seemingly suddenly not thinking he’s deserving of love. Once he got on his meds, he strode bravely into relationships with Faileb and Trash without batting an eye. (And yes, one could argue those were “bad” relationships a person who knows they are worthy of love would’ve avoided-but that was never the show’s point of view. They literally thought each of those partners were huge upgrades from Mickey, and that they would provide Ian with healthy relationships, something other than “war and sex”, which is what they tried to reduce Mickey to.) Think back to when Ian pursued Trash FOR MONTHS-he never once said, “Maybe Trash doesn’t want me because I’m unlovable.”

And that they randomly brought up Ian’s medical condition after all this time as a big part of the “reason” didn’t set well at all. Myles’ AV Club review sums it up beautifully: “I don’t want to dwell too much on this, but I have long argued that the show has fundamentally mishandled Ian’s disorder by refusing to acknowledge how it would impact his day-to-day life. When I asked showrunner Nancy Pimental about this back in 2016, the answer was basically that they didn’t think people wanted to see Ian “popping medications all the time,” but I’d argue that it makes any stories they do want to tell about his bipolar disorder weaker. If they just put in a small amount of legwork discussing his disorder—a mention of a doctor’s appointment, a scene of him picking up a prescription—it would make it less like the show is just circling back to his disorder when it’s convenient for the story. The idea that Ian had to search so deeply to realize that it was his bipolar disorder that was creating his reluctance to marry Mickey (or anyone) implies that even he doesn’t have it at the front of his mind, and while perhaps that’s a defense mechanism the show has set the issue aside too long for that to be articulated. I’m happy the show is finally bringing it back to the surface, and Ian and Mickey’s eventual reconciliation will be better for it, but it doesn’t change the mistakes made along the way.”

Could Ian’s bipolar disorder be part-or even the cause-of his issues about marriage? Absolutely. Has the show done anything before tonight, other than the Season 5 finale, to indicate this? Absolutely not.

Plus, within the episode itself, Ian acts as if Mickey’s the one who has a problem, not him. He tells the assembled family members that Mickey “will work it out of his system” (with Byron) and then be ready to talk things out, so...

Anyway, to go back to the beginning of the episode-if online friends and others hadn’t pointed out that Ian was thinking of Mickey here

it never would’ve occurred to me that he was. I’ve never seen Mickey in that bed-and I haven’t seen Mickey and Ian in bed together in YEARS. Prison bunks don’t count-and even if they did-Mickey bucked him out of there so fast in their first episode this season it couldn’t have counted anyway.

And that brings me to something that also bothers me about the entire way they’re handling this marriage problem of Ian’s-we haven’t seen Mickey and Ian interact in any meaningful way since they got out of prison. The writers have been hellbent on throwing even more obstacles in their path at every turn-which, I get, yes, that’s a big part of storytelling. But these guys have all the traps with none of the downtime to relax and recover together-and to let the audience see what’s going on while catching their breath. They cut the scenes where it was just two of them in the same room, talking about what we’ll never know because they were CUT.

These two have had enough angst-if the show really wanted us to believe the logical destination for them was down the wedding aisle, why not give us a season of them growing together instead of tearing them apart again? They were in prison living right on top of each other-couldn’t the comedy have come from them getting out and sticking just as close, even when they didn’t have to? Couldn’t we have had scenes of them sitting together on the couch, Mickey drowsing while Ian’s watching some dumb reality dating show Mickey has no interest in, but he’s there because Ian’s there and they both like feeling the warmth their bodies generate merely by being close? Couldn’t we have them talking in bed, long into the night-Ian asking Mickey to remind him to get a renewal for his prescription; Mickey having an “oh crap” moment when he’s telling Ian how he spilled his Orange Julius on his (cute) khaki shorts and remembers at 2 in the morning that the other pair is in the laundry and Ian tells him it’s fine, he washed them with his own clothes and even ironed them and they’re hanging in the closet? Have Ian find a You Tube video about making a recipe that tastes “just like” Kentucky Fried Chicken at home to save money, so Mickey’s hanging out in the kitchen while Ian’s attempting to make it with disastrous results and they wind up with Mickey calmly putting the big lid from the spaghetti pot over the grease fire Ian starts in the frying pan and telling Ian he’ll spring for the twenty bucks to get a bucket of extra crispy for their supper? Couldn’t we have just had that interspersed with actually discussions about what they’re feeling or going through? The show, via up till now unknown Sandy, tried to convince us it was giving us domestic Gallavich-why didn’t they just write it?

Anyway, I did like the fact that Ian had to wake up, put some clothes on, put his boot on, get himself down the stairs and Mickey was STILL pretending to kiss Byron behind his big honeydew melon helmet after all that implied time passed for Ian to do all that shit with his injury ;) Mickey is nothing if not fully committed to making sure Ian knows what he’s missing out on.

Mickey packing up his shit and telling Ian “when you know, you know” was to me equal parts funny and frustrating because it was like he was telling Ian A: Mickey knows how he feels about Ian and B: Ian should know how he feels about Mickey by now-but he clearly doesn’t. I thought having Mickey say Byron might be a Koch was a weird choice-I don’t think either Mickey or Ian (and most of the show’s target audience) would know that would mean his family-it it’s THOSE Kochs-are rich af, and if the show wanted to argue Mickey thought it meant his heir to the Coca-Cola fortune or that they somehow hold a patent on cocaine they can drop fucking dead. And the stretch to try to make the joke about Byron studying something from Britain vs “English” was painful.

And flashing back to S6 yet again, the show had Ian belittle Mickey twice-first by saying his emotional IQ is lower than Carl’s actual IQ (and, again, by the end of the show we’re supposed to think it’s Ian who is emotionally blocked, but how are we supposed to believe it or have sympathy when he was mocking Mickey-who is actually quite open with Ian when it comes to his emotions), and then secondly by claiming that Mickey has freakishly small hands. Well, Ian, you have a freakishly large head, and it doesn’t seem to dwarf Mickey’s mitts:

The scene with Debbie didn’t enrage me for once, and I was shocked. But I was glad she told him to marry Mickey to make him happy-but again in that scene Ian was searching for a reason after the fact to justify his still even a mystery to him reluctance to marry.

The scene with Lip was the best one they’re probably going to have for quite a while, maybe ever at the rate the show is going, but again, violent flashbacks to Ian’s Faileb/Trash days when he said “Debbie told me to” (marry Mickey). Remember those lost seasons where he did anything those bozos told him to and never stood up for himself? And also, if the show wasn’t wasting so much time with scenes of Frank tied to a bed and Debbie grooming an under-aged girl, Lip and Ian could’ve talked further, maybe delved into what Lip suggests Ian figure out for himself someday. If we could actually see Ian trying to get to the root of the problem, maybe it wouldn’t feel like the white board didn’t just say something like: Mickey/Ian break up-bipolar???

Their last scene of the episode had a lot of good stuff in it, even if ultimately it just broke down in the end with the lazy writing. Ian shoving the ring at Mickey and Mickey being let down by finding out not only is Ian not trying a little too late to salvage the engagement, but he’s making some lame “promise” and claims Gallaghers don’t break their promises-how can he say that to Mickey of all people? Name one promise Ian KEPT to Mickey! Noel, as always, plays out so much emotion without saying a word, and the heartbreak is palpable. And when he says Ian is saying he doesn’t love him enough? Noel! He makes it all so real. And we’re not let off the hook yet. But Mickey calling Byron by the wrong name, Ian pointing it out, and Mickey countering with he answers to whatever the fuck I call him was a nice throwback to the days of Mickey’s refusal to use Ian’s first name AND all the nicknames he came up with from Fire Crotch to Sleepy Face and Mumbles and almost makes me believe that the writer of the week maybe bothered watching at least the Gallavich scenes videos on You Tube. Almost. I’m more ready to believe Noel improvised that line in there himself ;)

We then get the reuse/recycle scene of Ian saying how there’s so much wrong with him and how he doesn’t know himself from one day to the next (so, again, would’ve been nice if there had been evidence of him feeling that way/dealing with it before last night), when he says to Mickey “how do you know that’s who you want to spend the rest of your life with?” I thought Mickey’s answer of “Jesus Christ, Ian” was perfect. He wasn’t going to stand there and give Ian a list of the many, many times he’s proven his love for Ian or try to coddle Ian and kiss him to try to make it better. Mickey’s finally figured out it’s up to Ian to either believe in Mickey’s mighty love or not, but Mickey’s done trying to sell it. Mickey’s gotta be so tired of all this-all along he’s done what Ian wants, even back when it was putting his own safety in jeopardy (another thing that I hate about the Terry retcon-remember when he was yelling his head off in the background when Mickey told Ian he’d meet him at the store in twenty, even tho it wasn’t a good time? Ever since that day, Mickey has always done everything in his power to give Ian what Ian thought he needed or wanted from Mickey).

Anyway, maybe I’m just a bear of very little imagination, but I honestly don’t see that they’re going to write anything that wraps up all this “tension” and Ian’s inability to commit well. By the end of the episode, I was picturing that they’ll have Mickey and Ian do a non-singing version of the Elephant Love Medley from Moulin Rouge to get Ian over his qualms about marriage. It fits in perfectly with the writers stealing from other stories, plus the whole thing is 4 minutes, which is considered a long scene for IxM these days.

The last we see of Ian, he takes a little detour to piss in the Vespa’s tank, and so now we’ve had two scenes of Paula getting at Ian’s junk, one of the Vespa with it, one scene of Mickey’s cousin grabbing Mickey’s dick, while that scene with the mayonnaise lube was the one and only time Ian and Mickey have come close to each other’s genitals/having sex all season. For all we know, they haven’t had it since-especially since Mickey had that telling line of getting bitchy when nothing’s been up his ass for a while...

(Gif credits: Ian and pillow-sickness-health-all-that-shit, Club kiss-mickeygifs)

#Shameless Season 10 #Episode 9 #The cramming continues #As does my lamenting how much time they wasted not letting them have scenes in the first half of the season #Mickey moving into Byron's modern day version of Jeannie's bottle and being a bossy bottom was fantastic-Noel not surprisingly knocked it #out of the park #But damn isn't he carrying enough of the show as it is?#Give him more scenes!

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