#thinking forever about that one art teacher i had who told me i needed to work on depicting hair
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Us
#good omens#anthony j crowley#crowley#aziraphale#ineffable husbands#fanart#its important to me that you all know the name of this file was Good Omens Kissy#thinking forever about that one art teacher i had who told me i needed to work on depicting hair#you weren't wrong then and you aren't wrong now sir#art tag
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Shine On (4/16)
Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic
Chapter 4: The Art of Profiling
Farrs Corner, Virginia
February 20, 2015
The pizza that Fox Mulder ordered isn’t from a pizza place Jackson has ever heard of, like Domino’s or Pizza Hut, but it’s really good anyway. Or at least it tastes good to someone who hasn’t eaten all day. Jackson eats the first piece really quickly, then he grabs for a second without thinking, forgetting his manners. When he realizes what he’s done, he hesitates.
“Go for it,” the older man says, his eyes darting sharply back and forth between the pizza and Jackson’s face. “Eat as much as you want.”
Fox Mulder has been acting much more intense ever since Jackson told him about the red-headed lady.
Jackson’s tired, and he has only barely skimmed the surface of the man’s difficult mind, but he can tell that the guy’s stunned by the news. Fox Mulder’s mind is channeling down a dozen different paths right now: fast, mazelike thoughts, like bobsleds going down tracks. A current of sharp worry running through like a winter chill.
It’s honestly exhausting to try to figure out. Jackson closes off the shine for now, takes another big bite of pizza. This sausage is a little spicy, which is exactly how he likes it.
“I have a lot of questions for you,” Fox Mulder says, his voice low. “I don’t want to overwhelm you. But I … gotta ask some of them.”
Jackson nods reluctantly, his mouth full. He doesn’t feel like answering questions at all. Still, he supposes the more he gets out of the way, the better.
“You said you have visions,” the man says, setting his own piece of pizza down. “Do you have other … abilities?”
Jackson studies him cautiously as he finishes chewing his bite of pizza. He’s not in the habit of discussing what he can do. It’s only really ever been trouble when he has, so he’s almost instinctively secretive about it. But things are different now. And Fox Mulder, well, he seems to know all about this kind of thing.
“Yeah,” Jackson says carefully. “I do.”
The man runs his hand over his mouth. Jackson notices he’s only eaten half of his slice of pizza. Either he’s not hungry, or he’s too distracted.
“You can read thoughts,” Fox Mulder guesses, leaning back, speaking with certainty. He folds his hands in front of him. “You can focus on other people’s thoughts. Not just one person, but several at once.”
Jackson sets his slice of pizza down in shock. “How did you know that?”
“You can move objects, too.”
Jackson blinks at him. “I have been able to do that. Some. I could do it easier when I was little.”
“What else?”
“I can, like, change people’s perceptions. What they see. Not for forever, just for a little while. So, if I, like, need a distraction in class or something, I can make the teacher think someone opened the door and mooned us. Stupid stuff like that.”
Fox Mulder looks undeniably fascinated. “Wow,” he says. “Interesting.” He taps his fingers on the table. Jackson doesn’t have to use his shine to see that the man is thinking this over. “So does that mean you could effectively shapeshift? If you wanted to?”
“Yeah,” admits Jackson. “At least I can make other people think I look like someone else.”
“Huh,” the man says, squinting thoughtfully. He tilts his head, looking at Jackson again. “Are you reading my mind right now?”
“No,” Jackson says honestly.
“Why not?”
“I’m tired,” Jackson says. “It’s work, sometimes. And no offense, but you’re kind of complicated and hard.”
Fox Mulder chuckles. “I don’t know if I should take offense at that or not.”
“I did read your mind earlier,” Jackson confesses. “And the red-haired lady …. she was really easy. I hardly had to try with her at all. It was like her thoughts just flew at me. I was wondering if that was because she was my birth mom. Do you think that could be right?”
The man stares at him blankly, not directly answering. “Her name is Dana Scully.”
“Dana Scully,” repeats Jackson.
“Have you ever heard that name before?”
“No,” Jackson says. “I don’t think so.”
“Did your parents tell you anything about your birth parents? Who they were, where you were from?”
“I don’t think they knew anything about them,” Jackson says. “It was a closed adoption.”
Fox Mulder nods, scratching his chin. “Yeah,” he says. It’s like a cloud of sadness has fallen over him. “Yeah, it would have been.” He fixes Jackson with a curious look. “Do you … have any questions for me? About any of this?”
“Uh. Sure.” Jackson looks around the room, slowly, as if the best question to ask might be scrawled on the walls. The faces peering out of the framed photos draw his attention again, but it’s all so much. He looks away, back at the box of pizza in front of them instead. “Is it… okay if I have another slice, Mr. Mulder?”
The man laughs a little, crossing his arms. “You can just call me Mulder.”
“I think I’m eating more than you, Mulder,” Jackson points out seriously. “It doesn’t seem fair. It’s your pizza.”
“I told you, eat as much as you want.”
Jackson feels like he has been polite enough. He shrugs. “Thanks,” Jackson says, taking another slice.
“Jackson,” Mulder says, watching him eat, his voice suddenly too casual. “Do you have any idea who your birth father is?”
Jackson picks up his piece of pizza and studies it, pulling off a particularly delicious-looking piece of sausage and sampling it. “Well,” he says, through a mouthful, “I’ve got a guess. Based on certain clues. But I don’t know for sure.”
“Clues you’ve read in people’s minds? Or clues you’ve noticed?”
Jackson shrugs again. “Both, I guess.” He gives Mulder a look, raising his eyebrows.
There’s a pause.
“What clues?”
“Well, I’m not stupid,” Jackson says matter-of-factly. “That woman, Dana Scully, was here, fighting with you. Lots of big feelings. Then, the way you’re acting now. Like you think I’m a brand new iPhone and you can’t stop looking at me. And how you seem to know things about me. That’s a bunch of clues.”
Mulder has been sitting with his arms crossed, and he hasn’t moved the entire time Jackson’s been talking. But now Jackson can see a tear sprouting in his eye. It surprises him. Wayne Van De Kamp, his father, would never have cried in front of him. Mulder blots it with his sleeve, and Jackson sees his hands are shaking, too.
Maybe he shouldn’t have said that so carelessly, kind of flippantly. It’s obviously a big deal to Mulder. Really, truthfully, it’s a big deal to Jackson, too—something he’s wondered about his whole life. But right now he just can’t have everything feel like a big deal all at once. Or he’ll explode or something.
He meets the man’s damp eyes.
“Yeah,” Mulder says roughly, trying to smile. “Okay. A lot of clues.” He pauses, uncrosses his arms, places his hands on the table. “I get the sense you can’t handle a lot more emotional drama right now, Jackson, and I get that, I really do. Believe it or not, I’ve been in that place myself.”
Jackson’s speechless. It’s like the man read his mind, but that’s not possible.
“I just want to say, we can talk about it whenever you want to,” Mulder adds. “No pressure.”
Jackson nods his head up and down, licking his lips nervously.
***
After dinner, they go back into the part of the room with the couch, which is surrounded by all the messy piles of books. Jackson sits on the floor and starts picking up volumes curiously. “The Art of Profiling?” he says. “Is that an art book?”
“No,” Mulder says with a smile, trying to kick piles out of the way. “It’s psychological profiling. Like for criminals.”
“Oh,” Jackson says, making a connection. “Like on Criminal Minds.”
“What’s that? A TV show?”
“Yeah,” Jackson says. “My parents love it. It’s about a team of FBI agents who profile dangerous criminals.” An exciting thought occurs to him. “Wait, is that what you did?”
“Yes,” Mulder says. “No. Kind of. I was a profiler, years and years ago. But then I was put on the X-files, where I investigated cases that had unexplainable, supernatural associations.”
“That’s why you have books like this,” Jackson says. He lifts the book Sasquatch: Diverse Perspectives. “Or this?” Extraterrestrial Abductions Beyond the Media.
“Yeah,” Mulder says, a self-deprecating shrug. “That’s right.”
“That’s badass,” Jackson says, a root of an idea occurring to him. He belatedly realizes his mistake. “I mean, that’s cool. Very cool,” he corrects himself.
“It was badass,” Mulder agrees, seemingly unaffected by Jackson’s profanity. “Although… it could be difficult. We went through a lot, working on the X-files. Scully and me.”
Jackson absorbs this information. “So you and Dana Scully worked together on the X-files. In the F.B.I.. That’s how you knew one another?”
“We were partners,” Mulder says with quiet precision, like this sentence is very important.
They’re just three words—we were partners—but Jackson can tell they tell an entire complicated story the length of a book or more. His shine cries out to be used, but Jackson pushes it aside.
“Mulder,” Jackson says slowly. “Is it a coincidence that you and my birth mom worked on these X-files … and that I have these abilities?”
“No, Jackson,” Mulder says, sighing heavily. “It’s probably not a coincidence.” He sits on the couch, looking down at Jackson still sitting on the floor. “There are things that both of us were exposed to that could have … caused the abilities.”
“But you guys don’t have them yourselves, right?”
“No. Not like you.”
It’s a frustrating answer. “Not like me? Or not at all?”
“Some things I want to wait to talk to you about,” Mulder replies. “Until we’ve had a chance to talk to your mother, too.”
Your mother.
Jackson inhales sharply, the words sending an unexpected shock through him.
“I meant Scully, of course,” Mulder says quickly, noticing his reaction. “I’m sorry.”
“Dana Scully isn’t my mother,” Jackson says with emphasis. “I have a mother.”
“I know.” Mulder’s eyes look impossibly sad. “I’m sorry, Jackson. I know.”
“I’m not looking to replace my parents,” Jackson says tightly. “That’s not why I’m here or what this is about. They’ll always be my parents. I love them.”
Mulder appears to sink further into the couch. “Yeah,” he says. “I can tell you do.”
Jackson looks down quickly at the stack of books again, playing silently with the cover of Criminology Through The Ages. He knows he shouldn’t have gotten angry. He knows Mulder didn’t mean anything by it, and he’s having to struggle with his shine now to keep from sensing any bad feelings or thoughts coming off of Mulder.
It’s just Jackson feels almost disloyal, sitting here talking to this man, learning this information about his birth parents’ lives, when his parents just died. When they probably died because of him.
“Jackson.” Mulder’s voice is kind. “What were they like? Your parents. Do you want to … tell me about them? I don’t know anything about them.”
Jackson pauses, still staring at the book in his hand. “Yeah,” he says. He tries to find the right words. He has to be the person who remembers them, who speaks for them to the world now. “They were … they weren’t anything like me. But they were great.”
Mulder waits patiently, his soft eyes on Jackson. Jackson puts the book back carefully on top of a pile.
“My dad was the shop teacher at Rawlins High School. He was good at woodworking, cabinetry. He was always trying to teach me.”
“Were you good at it, too?”
“No,” Jackson says with a tiny smile. “I was really, really bad at it.”
“Oh yeah?” Mulder echoes the tiny smile.
“I couldn’t cut straight. I forgot to measure,” Jackson says, shaking his head. “I was always disappointing him.”
“Not really,” Mulder guesses softly.
“No,” Jackson agrees, just as softly. “Not really.” He’s quiet, thinking more about his goofy, sweater-vested dad. “He was always cheerful. He thought you should look on the positive side of things, you know? Really into baseball. He coached my Little League team for a while.”
“That’s good,” Mulder says encouragingly. “It’s good to play sports.” He’s quiet, too. “And your mom?”
“Her job was running the church preschool,” Jackson says. “She was always singing. She loved holiday decorations, and to cook and bake.” He feels tears threatening. “She is just … she was a really good mom to me. Like, she hugged me all the time. I acted like I didn’t like it, but I did.”
“I’m glad she did that,” Mulder whispers. “I’m so glad.”
“She was really Christian. Really into church. They both were.”
“You were raised religious?”
“Yeah,” Jackson says. “Lutheran.” He glances at Mulder wryly. “But I was really bad at that, too.”
Mulder returns the look. “I’m not very good at that myself,” he says. “Scully’s religious, in her own way. But I’ve never been … that kind of believer. It’s just never made sense to me”
Something warm blooms in Jackson at being understood in this way. It’s never made sense to him, either.
“What are you good at?” Mulder asks. His tone is gentle, but Jackson’s shine is suddenly alert, suddenly aware of what’s underneath the man’s exterior. Mulder is hungry to know more about him, desperate for any detail. His need is so overwhelming, Jackson closes the door on it quickly.
“I don’t know,” Jackson says casually. “I’m good at math, I guess. Math comes easy to me.”
Mulder’s face lights up. “Scully’s amazing at math.” Looking over at Jackson, he seems to regret his words. His scolding to himself shines through. —stop making everything he says about me and Scully. “Sorry. You’re telling me about yourself.”
“I like to run,” Jackson continues. “I’m pretty fast, and I think I’m a good distance runner. I was thinking maybe I’d try out for the track team in high school.” He pauses. “But I guess I’m not going to high school now.”
“Come on,” Mulder says. “Of course you’re going to high school. Your life isn’t over.”
“I’m most likely going to prison,” Jackson mumbles darkly.
“Nah. Not going to happen.”
“I don’t even know where I’m going to live,” Jackson adds. “Where I’m going to stay tonight.”
“You’re obviously going to stay here tonight,” Mulder insists. “After that, we’ll figure it out.”
The lightning-fast image of a school building with a sign— Farrs Corner High School—and then another fast image, the two of them, Mulder and Jackson, running side by side on a country road, a road that looks a lot like the road right outside the farmhouse. Then almost instantly, more scolding in Mulder’s mind: Way ahead of yourself. Stop it. Haven’t even told Scully. Need to confirm.
“How will we confirm?” Jackson asks quickly. “What does that mean?”
Mulder’s eyebrows shoot up. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”
“Sorry,” Jackson says. “That was kind of rude of me, probably.”
“I have to remind myself you’re listening,” Mulder says with a small smile.
“I normally try to hide it more,” Jackson says. He stands up, stepping around the books to sit next to Mulder on the couch. “But I mean … what’s the point if you already know, right?”
“I was just thinking that before we introduce you to Scully, we should run DNA,” Mulder says. “Yours against mine. To confirm it.”
“Why?” Jackson says, frowning. “You don’t believe me?”
“Can’t you tell that I believe you?”
Jackson sighs. “Yeah, I think you do.” He kicks out his long legs and leans his head back against the back of the couch. “But like I said, you’re not the easiest.”
“The people that Scully and I used to be involved with,” Mulder says, “were the kind of people who would go to extremes. Even extremes like convincing a kid his birth mother was someone she wasn’t. Like planting ideas into people’s heads. I don’t think you’re lying, but I think it would be smart to know for sure.”
Jackson swings his head to look at Mulder. “Who were these people?”
Mulder regards him with a troubled expression. “I’ll answer that, Jackson. But I think you need to answer this, too: who drove you here? To Virginia?”
“I told you,” Jackson says, folding his arms defensively, “I can’t tell you that.”
“Why?” Mulder’s eyebrows draw together in concern. “It worries me a little. Did the person who drove you ask you not to tell me?”
“Yeah, they did,” Jackson admits. “But I don’t think they’re one of these bad people you’re talking about. They were just trying to help me.”
“But Jackson,” Mulder says urgently, “you need to understand that—”
“You’re just going to have to trust me,” Jackson insists, and his voice sounds younger than he intends. “Please. Just trust me.”
Mulder rubs his temple with one finger. “Okay,” he says simply. “I can do trust.” He leans forward on his forearms. “But still, Jackson, I think we gotta do the DNA test. If you’re not … the person we think you are—and who Scully thinks you are, it would be too hard for her.”
“She’s been wanting to see me that bad?”
Mulder is surprised. “Of course she has. Of course.”
“But it was a closed adoption. Her choice.”
Mulder opens and closes his mouth, again seeming not to know what to say. “Since the second she let you go,” he says, his voice strained, “she’s been wanting to see you again.”
Jackson’s shine pulls in an image then of a baby in a crib, crying, and then the woman Mulder calls Scully, younger, crying and crying, inconsolable.
It’s all too sad, and Jackson is sad already.
“Okay. DNA test tomorrow then,” Jackson says, shrugging. “No big deal.”
“Great,” Mulder says, standing up. “Now I thought I’d show you where you’ll be sleeping if you want. I’ll have to put sheets on the guest bed first. Maybe you can help me. This place used to be a little more organized when Scully lived here.”
“You have a guest room, huh?” Jackson says. “Fancy.”
“Yeah,” Mulder says in a strange voice. “It’s just an extra bedroom. Small. Not too fancy.”
It was supposed to be your room. In case we got you back somehow. Mulder’s thoughts are suddenly and unexpectedly clear.
“Then I guess I better sleep in it,” Jackson responds flatly, following along behind him.
***
#xfiles fanfic#the x files#x files fanfic#fox mulder#dana scully#x files#xf fanfic#msr#jackson van de kamp
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don’t mind me I’m just being really sappy about my final choir concert and how choir has affected my life 
I just performed my last high school choir concert and I didn’t expect to be as emotional as I am
I’m standing in front of the mirror before I leave after I did my make up the school colors and admiring how pretty I look and how grown-up and how mature I look it has a song I messed up on one song and I began bawling my eyes out because I felt like everyone in the whole concert but those sad upset angry tears turn to tears of grief and joy  as I reminisced on the event and the year that solidified my love for choir
it was my sophomore year I had just recently lost my mom and I wasn’t doing so hot I was suicidal and upset all the time but I always gave my all inquire because they were always there for me and it was the family that I needed at the time and my piano teacher in choir accompanist pulled me outside of the building one day and told me how much I inspire her and the rest of the choir with how strong I’ve been throughout all that I’ve endured and I stared at this woman as she cried and I started crying to and when I came back inside it was the free. And my choir Director pulled me in to his office and he told me that I am going great places if I can keep being the strong and I have been going strong for two years now
I remember being scared little seventh grader who just recently moved in with some family in a brand new town and decided to take choir instead of band because I love to singing and I remember wearing that black dress that tied in the back with my hair done I look so young I was so naïve to the horrors and I enjoyed what I did for those years I went to competition in eighth grade left my choir dress at McDonald’s as we were on our way home from competition
The only time I wish I wasn’t in choir was my freshman year because my choir director told me horrible in this encouraging things whenever I was in her choir was Pete Covid times remember having a break down in the middle of her class due to a text message I received about my great grandfather falling ill to spinal cancer in him being in the hospital in that year I lost my other figure of 12 years the next year I lost my mother and the year after that I lost my grandfather and my great grandma this year my grandma was diagnosed with skin cancer as well as my loss of child like innocence due to having to grow up and face the reality that I’m going to college and I will be 18 in a few months
I’m terrified for what life has for me but I know if I was able to get through my mother dying I can get through much more then I think I can graduate at this point I sang my first in my last solos this year it was the first choir Director I had a love-hate relationship with because all of my other choir directors who loved them but this man was different he would get on my nerves because he would push me but he push me for the better and I’m grateful to him forever
I owe my life to choir because that’s what saved me in the long run if I was still alive I would be making art but in the depression that I was thrown into pick up a pencil and music was the only thing I had left of my mother so I created music with my choir the women in that room solidified that need for music that I never got out of band I was gone 
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I'm sorry, I'm late- Hwang Hyunjin: Chapter Two
Description: Y/n is an art teacher's apprentice in a small town in France. Hwang Hyunjin is an idol who decided to run away after trouble started to arise again. He finds himself in the class where she trains, quickly they peaked each other’s interests. Both of them ran from something and it landed them in this small town in the middle of practically nowhere. One thing they both know is that the past always catches up and it is only a matter of time, so they better make the most of it now.
Warnings for Chapter 2: heavy backstories, wine
WC- 5.2k
tags at the bottom of the chapter :)
Song- Fools Rush In – Jo Stafford
~+~
Chapter 2: His laugh
“Good morning Jinnie!” You grinned as you swung open your door, the morning breeze already rushing at you.
“Good morning, Y/n. It’s like I haven’t seen you in forever.” He joked as you locked up your home, you smiled remembering the previous night. Your dinner with him. Before he had left, you helped him clean his plates and you two pretty much finished half of the wine.
You two walked down the path to town, you really liked getting to walk with him. He started to open up and talk to you little by little. You think he realized he was in the same position as you, you were the only person near his age.
“Gram said you told her you can sing, I forgot to ask you about that last night.” You said and he almost dropped his basket.
“Gram told you?” He chuckled, you two were now at the top of the hill.
“She did, I would like to hear you sing.” You said and looked at him, the sunrise warming both your bodies.
“Maybe, I prefer dancing though.” Jinnie said and turned to you.
“Dancing, singing, what else can you do?” You asked, Gram was right, he was something.
Jinnie smiled to himself, as if remembering something, “well, I can speak Korean too, some Japanese, uhhh…”
Your jaw was on the path, “and now you want to pick up French? That is very impressive.”
“Korean was my first language,” Jinnie spoke softly, the tired features washed on his face again.
“Can you show me your dancing one time?” You asked, wanting to change the subject. Jinnie once again smiled.
“I would love to.”
You two arrived at the Sunday morning market not much later then that conversation. The heart of the town was bustling, you recognized the tourists again. You looked down and then up at Jinnie when he tugged the sleeve of your sweater.
“What do we need to pick up?”
Some of the ingredients you already had at home, “we just need eggs, pumpkin puree, and cinnamon butter.” You said to him as he leaned down so he could hear you. He nodded and led you to the dairy stand. When the guy asked him what he wanted in French he started panicking and looked to you. You cleared your throat.
“Je voudrais cinq œufs, sil vous plait. (I would like five eggs please)” You said to the man, he nodded and handed you the five eggs carefully. You softly set them in Jinnie’s basket and paid for them.
“Merci! (Thank you)” You said to the merchant and continued on your way.
“Thank you.” Jinnie said down to you. You smiled up at him.
“This will be your first lesson, okay?” You grabbed him and pulled him to a bench. He sat down and you sat next to him.
“Okay I am ready.” Jinnie said, his hands still gripping the basket.
“When you ask for something, you say, ‘Je voudrais’ that directly translates to, ‘I would like.’” You explain to him, he repeated it back to you and you helped with pronunciation.
“Then right after you say what you’d like, you then end it with ‘sil vous plait’ which means ‘please.’” Once again, he repeated it back to you, you smiled.
“If you want you can even say, ‘merci,’ which is, ‘thank you.’” You further explained, “if you’re REALLY thankful, you can say, ‘merci beaucoup.’” He nodded and took note of your mini lesson.
Standing up you put your hand out instinctively, he grabbed it, and you led him to the next stand, this one had fruits. This is good practice. Plus, you wanted an orange to snack on. You led Jinnie up to the stand and he looked a little nervous. You told him how to ask for two oranges. When the guy asked him what he wants, he gulped and then spoke.
“Je voudrais…” He looked down at you, you looked up at him and squeezed his hand, “deux oranges, sil vous… plait.”
You grinned at him, you handed the man the required money and you two got your oranges.
“Jinnie that was amazing I am so proud of you.” You shook his arm that didn’t have the basket in it, in celebration.
“My pronunciation was… okay?” He looked down at you, you nodded.
“You did really well. The guy didn’t even look annoyed at you!” You giggled then continued to drag him around with you to get the other ingredients.
When you two were about to leave someone called his name, he whipped around and saw a group of five girls run up to him. You recognized one of them, it was your boss’s daughter.
“We wanted to make these for you!” One of the girls said, another girl handed him a bundle of what you assumed were the cookies. He smiled awkwardly at them.
“Ah… Merci… beaucoup!” He looked at you and you gave him a thumbs up. The group of girls started to giggle before practically running away. You heard whispers of, beau homme, and il est tres gentil. It made you laugh a bit and you two started your walk home.
“What were they saying as they were walking away?” Jinnie asked you as you opened your front gate for him. You started to laugh as you dug in your pockets for your keys.
“They were saying you were beautiful and very kind.” You saw his shocked expression and then you turned to open your door to your home.
Walking in, he set the basket down on the counter, and his gift on the table.
“Well, that was very…” He looked at you.
“Gentille.” You finished for him. Jinnie nodded and giggled then repeated what you said.
“Gentille of them.”
You started to unload the groceries, leaving the ingredients for the pumpkin bread out. You saw at the bottom of his basket he had Gram’s recipe at the bottom. You smiled to yourself.
“What can I help with?” Jinnie asked breaking you out of your thoughts.
“Could you get the bowls and stuff please?” You asked him, he nodded and started on his first task. He retrieved them in no time and soon you two were baking.
“JINNIE, CAN YOU GRAB THIS?” You wobbled your way from the back pantry where all the flours and sugars were, he quickly rushed over and grabbed the flour too, helping guide you to the kitchen.
“Okay we did it!” Jinnie said and wiped his face. You started to laugh, and he looked at you with a confused look.
“You have pumpkin puree on your face.” You reached up and wiped it off his forehead, still giggling at him.
Jinnie looked away from you, a smile on his face.
“Can you preheat the oven?” You asked as you started to mix all your ingredients. He hopped to it instantly.
Once the bread was in the oven you two found yourselves looking over the bookshelf in your room, “you have a lot of good reads.”
“Thank you.” You sat down on your bed and watched him, “I needed books to keep myself occupied when I first moved here.”
“You don’t have a phone or a laptop?” He asked and turned around, holding a book of Monet’s work and history.
“I do, they are just locked away, if someone in town wants to contact me, they can just use the landline.” You said simply.
Jinnie looked up from the book and right at you, “in that chest by your bed?”
You nodded, you didn’t look up from the book you were reading, “mhm.”
“Can I ask why they are locked away?” You felt the bed shift, he sat by your sprawled out body.
“Can I ask how you found yourself here?” You sat up now looking at him with curious eyes.
Jinnie thought for a moment, “I ran away.” He looked away from you as if he was ashamed of himself. Your features quickly softened.
“It’s… It’s okay…” You spoke, just above a whisper.
Jinnie looked at you, “I was a coward. I am a-“
“I ran away too.” You said quickly, his eyes widened, “there was a lot going on for me back home, um it became too much so I packed everything and left.”
“Y/n, I understand that more than you know.” He said and grabbed your hand.
You looked up at him, “maybe one day me and you will go more into detail about why we ran.” You stood up still holding onto his hand, “but as for right now, we have pumpkin bread to deliver.”
~+~
“You know when I was a little girl, I used to have the most beautiful blond hair.” Gram said as she sliced the bread for you and Jinnie. She insisted you two have one piece even though it was your gift to her.
“Your hair is still beautiful, Gram.” Jinnie said to her.
Gram let out a quiet laugh, “Hyunjin you are too kind…” She plated the bread and poured some iced tea for you both, and for her. Then she sat down.
“Have you ever had Y/n’s pumpkin bread?” Gram asked Jinnie. He shook his head, “you’ll love it, I remember when she first made it for me.” Gram winked at you, and you smiled bashfully. Then you three dove in. Jinnie instantly complimented your baking. Gram told you this was your best batch yet.
“I had help this time so maybe that’s why.” You smiled at Jinnie.
Gram laughed, “you better help her more if this is how good the bread is going to be!” She joked. You and Jinnie helped clean the cups and plates and she led you two to her living room.
“I want to show you guys photos in my youth.” She sat you guys on the couch and then plopped herself in the middle of you two. Gram started to talk about how after some events, her and her husband decided to move into this little town to get away. Neither of them knew a lick of French but they learned together. You could tell Jinnie was absolutely enthralled with her romantic tale. His eyes lit up and he would ask her questions, she gladly answered. It made your heart warm; he was so effortlessly charming.
At some point she wanted to take her late afternoon nap, so she kicked you two out, Jinnie walked you to your door.
“Walk with me to school tomorrow?” He asked with hopefully eyes.
“I wouldn’t miss it Jinnie.” You spoke and stood at your doorway, the warm air in contrast to the breeze outside.
“I will pick you up this time.” He said, you nodded and before you could say goodbye, just as usual he flipped around and waved. You shut the door behind you. Giggling you rushed to the bathroom, it was time to take a bath and settle down for the day. You still had to study your art history too. Oh, Jinnie just made you so giddy!
~+~
The next morning you knew you overslept because you heard knocking on your bedroom window. You groaned and rubbed your eyes, when you saw his silhouette through your curtains you hopped up and ran through your house, your slippers making you slide. Quickly, you opened the door and waved him in. Jinnie’s warm smile woke you up more.
“Uh here if you didn’t have breakfast um make something, the pantry is yours!” You ran back to your room to get ready for the day. You threw on some old pants and a t-shirt. Your hair was a mess and part of you was a little embarrassed that Jinnie saw you like this. You threw on a straw hat and jacket, almost falling over you put on your boots.
“JINNIE IS MY BAG OUT THERE!?” You yelled from your room. You heard him quickly walk around.
“YES, I GOT IT!” He spoke back. You smiled and walked out, now ready to leave and walk to school with him. When you met him by the door, he handed you your bag.
“Thank you!” You smiled and next thing you knew you two were walking to the school.
“Oh, I woke up a little early this morning, so I made sandwiches for us, if you want to eat them with me after class.” Jinnie said and showed you the wrapped sandwiches in his bag, “I also took the two oranges from your fruit bowl.”
“I will look forward to it, I shouldn’t have work today so I would love to have lunch. Especially your cooking.” Your heart felt warm around him again.
Jinnie let out a soft hum of acknowledgement, “I want to thank you by the way.”
You looked to him as you two just walked made it at the top of the hill, “why’s that?”
“Welcoming me here, you could have just let me figure it out on my own, but you haven’t.” He spoke softly, “you are letting me depend on you.”
“Well, you still have to help me with my landscape art.” You nudged him, Jinnie giggled.
“I have that planned actually; I am trying to find a nice landscape for us.”
This sort of confused you, “you don’t want to paint the town?”
“I will always paint the town, however, let’s say you get frustrated, at least you’ll have a nice view to calm you down.” He explained, “my first day here when I was still at the inn, I painted the general store, or at least tried to, and I couldn’t get it right. Then someone walked by, and it was the most beautiful view I have ever seen.”
You felt a pang of something, your stomach did flips, who captured his eye?
“Did you ever get to see your view again?” You asked, Jinnie looked down at his feet, smiling to himself.
“Almost every day actually.”
That’s odd, “do you know their name?”
“Yes.” Jinnie giggled once more.
“Do I know them?” Yes, you were nosy, you couldn’t help it.
Jinnie let out another laugh, except this time he threw his head back then looked at you, “yes you know them.”
You started to ponder as you two walked up to the school, “wait what’s their name?”
“Y/n.” Jinnie opened the door for you, and you walked in, then spun around.
“Yes?” You asked and took off your hat, Jinnie smiled at you and tried to fix your messy hair.
“That’s their name.” He said simply and started to walk to the classroom. He left you dumbfounded in the middle of the hall. Once back to reality you started to run after him.
“HEY!”
During class Jinnie would make an effort to not pay any attention to you, especially after how flustered he made you right beforehand. It made a little spark inside you; you thought it was funny. The way you’d catch him staring and then he’d dramatically look away. It made you laugh to yourself while you studied your history books. Mr. W started to teach the class about August Friedrich Schenk. You tuned in a bit always being interested by the way there was always an overwhelming dread in the art August Friedrich produced. You struggled painting animals so maybe that’s also why the artist also intrigued you. After the lecture Mr. W assigned you to run some errands to the other teachers, things like reports, attendance, stuff like that. You quickly did as you were told and found yourself greeted by your soon to be coworkers. One of them didn’t have a class for another hour so you found yourself making small talk.
“Is Mr. W still being nice?” She asked and started to write her lesson plan on the board. She was the poetry teacher, Ms. Felicity.
“Yes, thankfully, it is really different from being an art student in his class.” You took a sip of tea that she offered you in a paper classroom cup, “he has always been nicer to me though. I am thankful for that. He really has taken me under his wing the past two years.”
“I’m glad, especially since you’ll be working here soon.” Ms. Felicity turned around and smiled at you.
“Do you live in the next town over?” You asked, suddenly curious. She nodded.
“It is quite the commute but it’s worth it.”
You nodded; you remembered the town over was very nice.
“You know. I wanted to be the art teacher, but here I am doing poetry.” She spoke softly.
You two continued to talk until it was time for you to head back to Mr. W. You found yourself happy that maybe you made a new friend. You seemed to be lucky in that department lately. Walking back into the classroom you saw that Mr. W was close to finishing his lesson. You sat at your little desk and waited for the class to be dismissed.
“Alright, you have your assignments for the next week, remember due March 13th. I will see you guys tomorrow.” The international students started to leave, Mr. W gave you more things to study for the upcoming week
“I am very proud of your progress lately, Y/n.” Mr. W said, you gleamed at the praise.
“Thank you so much, Mr. W!” You quickly picked up your notebooks and bag, packing up. Your teacher made small talk with you about the next assignments for the art students and then sent you off.
Once again you met Jinnie outside of the classroom, “hungry?” He asked. You smiled at him and placed your hat back on your head.
“Starved!”
~+~
“The school has poetry too?” Jinnie asked as you two sat in the grass still in short distance to the school. You were laying on your jacket and you suddenly sat up.
“Yes, did you not look at the classes?” You laughed and took another bite of the wonderful sandwich Jinnie made for you two.
“Well… While signing up I was in a bit of a rush.” He said and sipped his reusable water bottle.
You finished off your sandwich and laid back down, “makes sense how you just appeared out of nowhere.”
Jinnie laughed, “I really did huh?”
“Yes, shockingly. You just poofed.” You flipped on your stomach and looked up at him.
“Is that why you ask me so many questions?” Jinnie teased.
You nodded, “that is exactly why I ask you an abundance of questions. You pique my curiosity.”
“At least you don’t just see me for my looks.” He said quietly. Your brows furrowed and you could sense the sadness in his tone. It was a total 180. You wondered where it came from, especially where the statement itself came from. Yes, he was handsome, however did the people who he ran away from just see him as that?
“No, I see you for your cooking.” You wanted to lighten the mood, anything to get that smile back on his face.
Jinnie rolled his eyes and smiled down at you, “okay Y/n. I see how it is.”
“Alright! We both have homework to do!” You stood up and put your hand out. He took it and you helped him up, cleaning up your mini picnic you two went on your merry way.
“We definitely should plant pumpkins in July.” You said and skipped along with him.
“So, they’ll be ready for Halloween, right?” Jinnie asked, you hummed.
“Exactly! The town actually does a whole thing for Halloween. It is really cute, too many tourists though.” You said, noticing once more he was lost in thought.
“Hyunjin…?” You tested the waters of saying his actual name, this caught his attention instantly.
“Am I in trouble?” Poor guy looked and sounded terrified, you laughed slightly.
“Nono I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
Jinnie nodded to himself, and he thanked you softly, “it’s just some weird stuff coming back to me again, I’ll be okay.” He reassured you.
“I understand what you mean, that happened to me on my first birthday here. I hung out with Gram the entire day.” You recalled the memory, “it was weird not being around anyone I knew.”
“My birthday is in two weeks.” He said suddenly.
Your eyes widened, “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME SOONER!” You practically jumped on him; soft giggles escaped his lips.
“We’ve been busy it didn’t come up.”
You huffed as you two made it up the hill, “what day?”
Jinnie thought for a moment, his way of keeping you in suspense, “hmmm I don’t remember.”
“HYUNJIN!”
He looked offended that you used his actual name, “now I’m not going to tell you.”
“Jinni- “
“March 20th.”
You laughed at his suddenness, “okay good! We can plan something!” Jinnie looked at you, he looked a little unreadable.
“You don’t have to…” He mumbled bashfully, you two walked into your neighborhood.
“Well, I want to, I don’t want you to have the same sad birthday as me when I first moved here.” You were determined, “what kind of cake do you want?”
“May I request your pumpkin bread?” He asked hopefully. You grinned at him.
“Yes, you may!”
~+~
The past week you and Jinnie would continue this routine of walking together to school and if you didn’t have work, you or he would make lunch. At one point he brought you lunch at work; it made you feel special. You found yourself cherishing his attention. He was way different from everyone else you have ever met. Hyunjin’s personality was as bright as the reflection of the sun on the water, and you were basking in it. There was never much to do in this town, you didn’t mind. But now that Jinnie was here, you had lots to look forward to, your schedule didn’t seem as mundane.
Saturday night you two were having dinner at your home once more, this time he brought you flowers, and you were cooking. You had music playing from the old music player in your living room.
“What did Mr. W pull you aside for yesterday? I forgot to ask.” You said as you stirred the seasonings for the oven baked potatoes.
“You forgetting to ask something? Impossible.” Jinnie joked. You turned around and gave him the stink eye, he giggled.
“He wanted to look at my sketchbook, he said on Monday he wants me to bring in some of my work that’s on a canvas.”
You flipped around, “no way.” Jinnie gave you a look as if he didn’t know why you were surprised, “he’s scouting you!”
“Psh no.” He waved his hand then took a sip of the wine he brought for you both.
“Psh yes.” You said back and started to pour the seasoning on the potatoes. Once they were in the oven you sat down next to him at the table.
“Mr. W takes one student from the class and scouts them, then if he chooses you then you get a trip to Paris for a chance to display your work at a gallery.” You explained, “I got picked my first year here when I was a student, look.” You stood up and grabbed the picture frame that was on your side table in the living room. You stomped back over and showed him the photo.
“See look.” You shoved the picture frame in his hands, “I was really young and he really took me in. I owe him a lot.”
Jinnie smiled at your photo, you were holding what he presumed to be your artwork, you didn’t look much different, “your hair was shorter.”
“That’s what you’re taking from this? Jinnie!” You grabbed the frame from him again, but he didn’t want to let go.
“Wait I wanna look at you more.” Jinnie giggled, you sighed and let go of the frame. After a few minutes of him asking questions about your younger self he handed it back.
“You really think he’s scouting me?” Jinnie asked and poured more wine for himself and you.
“Absolutely! Whenever I walk by your station I may or may not peek at what you’re working on.”
Mr. W had to be scouting him, this is what your mentor does when he notices talent. Jinnie had that talent.
“You look at my work while I’m working!?” He dramatically waved his hands around and it made you giggle.
“I did when we first met, didn’t I?”
Jinnie thought for a moment then nodded, “okay you did but I let you.”
“And why did you exactly?”
“I told you; I think you’re pretty, beautiful, gorgeous even, the most beautiful view here. Why wouldn’t I give you the opportunity to be charmed by my work.” The wine must’ve started kicking in because he was getting bold.
You face heated up and you felt yourself scoffing, “you still have to teach me your methods. I am still holding you to that.”
“I hope you do.” Jinnie said and leaned back smiling. He talked more about his walks he would take when you were working, saying he finally did find the perfect spot to take you painting. You eventually pulled out the bake potatoes and set up your plates, you also fried vegetables. Plating the food, you set it down in front of him.
“This smells wonderful.” He smiled up at you. You smiled back warmly and sat in front of him, “can you teach me something?”
You picked up on him always wanting to learn something from you, “coffee grounds are bad for your drain… uhhhh…” You thought for a moment, “I don’t think Vincent Van Gogh killed himself.”
“Oh? Elaborate.” Jinnie loved listening to you, and you loved listening to him. Eventually you two finished eating and you found yourself digging under your bed for old artwork. He wanted to see your portrait work.
“Most of them I sold to tourists at the market when I first moved here. These are the leftovers.” You handed him the canvases and he looked at your art in awe. It ranged from big to small pieces, all capturing these people’s details. Their very soul on your canvas.
“These are beautiful…” He breathed; he traced the canvas with his finger extremely delicately. You looked down.
“You should’ve seen the ones that were sold, I didn’t want to let them go but I had to make money, and this was before my bookstore job.” You spoke sadly, he looked up at you.
“We will make more pieces like these together.” Jinnie then looked down and more at your other artwork. The thought made your soul happy; you went to dig more under your bed and found old sketchbooks, one labeled abstract and you handed it to him.
“These were from highschool, if they are a bit dark, I apologize, I don’t really like looking back at these much.” You handed it to him and ever so softly he took it and started flipping through the pages. You found yourself scooting next to him and looking at the worn pages with him. Your eyes went to his face, he looked concentrated as he read the words hidden in your work.
“You made these in highschool?” He whispered, you nodded.
“It wasn’t the best time in my life… Some decisions I made led me here though, so I guess part of me should be thankful.” You whispered back. The music from the living room still playing a bittersweet tune.
“I can relate, although my last year was when I sold myself.” He flipped the page; you were studying him while he studied your work.
You looked back at the sketchbook in front of him, one day you knew you would find out about him. Maybe that night was tonight, “can you tell me?”
Jinnie looked back at you softly setting the book down, he was so gentle with your work, “yeah… I can tell you. But you can’t tell anyone else otherwise I have to leave.”
“I promise.” You looked him in his eyes, you could drown in them. He stood up and led you to sit down next to him on your bed. You shifted so one leg was dangling off and the other was folded on the bed. He sat forward, hands together. He looked stressed.
“Jinnie you don’t have to tell me if you aren’t ready.” Your hand found his way to his shoulder, and he looked at you.
“No, it… it’s okay, I want to tell you.”
You nodded and got ready to have your listening ears on.
“I used to live in Seoul, like Korea. I was very popular,” he looked away, “I was an idol, that’s why I can sing and dance. People really loved me, ask much as I liked it, popularity comes with controversy. Almost every week something was wrong or something horrible was being said to me.” Jinnie took a deep breath and you grabbed his hand, he squeezed it and continued, “as much as I loved being in the spotlight and seeing the adoring eyes of people, I couldn’t take the constant pressure, getting in trouble for rumors someone else started, things I didn’t even do, I was tired, I was always scared of someone always watching me, so I ran the second I could. It is irresponsible of me, and I am sure the past month people have been freaking out, but maybe not, I don’t know, I wasn’t allowed to be active anyways when I left.”
Your hand squeezed his again, “I don’t think you’re a coward Jinnie, I just think you were burnt out and lost. That is okay and it doesn’t make you any less of who you are.”
He nodded, “thank you.”
“Anything for you.” You spoke wholeheartedly.
“Can you tell me why you ran?” He asked, you took a deep breath and nodded, Jinnie turned his whole body towards you, now he held both your hands in his large ones. He always wore the same rings.
“In high school, I didn’t have a lot of friends, so when I finally did make them, I was naïve. I really landed myself in the wrong crowed. I was young and stupid to think these people actually did care for me. One of them I thought I fell in love with,” you felt your eyes start to water, “I was wrong, it wasn’t love, my frontal lobe hadn’t even developed so how was I supposed to know that what was happening to me wasn’t love.”
A tear fell from your eye, and he caught it with his hand. You continued, “at some point it started getting really bad, I got really scared for my safety and my family’s safety so I ran. I never looked back.”
Jinnie held tightly onto your hands, “thank you for telling me.” His voice was calming, and you found yourself crashing into him, hugging him desperately. He cradled you in his arms and let you cry.
“It’s okay… Y/n let it out… I know…” His hand found its way to your head, and he played with your hair.
“I miss being home, but I know it’s safer for everyone that I left.” You said in between sobs. Hyunjin just held onto you tighter. “I know… I know exactly what that feels like.” Hyunjin kept wiping away your tears as they fell, at some point he let a few of his own tears fall.
~+~
masterlist
~+~
taglist: @alyszaen @moon-on-a-golden-thread @hwgyun @forevrglow
comment or send in an ask to be added to the taglist <3 it's open!
if i ever forget any tags please remind me, i have goldfish memory.
~+~
author's note: hello my dears <3 today is kinda a wild week so far. i have had recent nightmares about some things and turns out i had reason for that. i got a text from an old friend, informing me of some things. i am safe and okay so that's what matters. i just need to focus on my paranoia of past situations. i'll be okay i am just shaken up.
i hope everyone is well <3 i love you all very much. please eat well today and rest up. any progress is still positive progress.
if you need anything my dms and ask box are open <3
#hyunjin x reader#stray kids#straykids#kpop#skz#skzxreader#straykids x reader#stray kids x reader#hwang hyunjin imagines#hwang hyunjin#hyunjin#bangchan#bang chan#lee know#lee minho#stray kids minho#seo changbin#changbin#han jisung#hanjisung#lee felix#lee yongbok#seungmin#kim seungmin#jeongin#in stray kids
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Today on Skeledude's Mind Palace
I saw the Distinction level students personal project and started worrying. I had the chance to see some of the previous students work. The teacher told us it was a distinction level project, and that already made me a bit worried. We went through the first week.
Are you sure this girl isn't writing a novel? That's more words than I type in a year!
These are some of the longest words and sentences combined together. This gave me a lot of stress, you know how bad it got. I was thinking about using an Ai to help me write, I was so desperate that I almost threw away my morals. But I didn't.
This may not be the greatest, but it’s made by me, that's what matters the most. Maybe I won’t get a distinction, but that’s not like the end of the world, that's America.
Ai art is like a remix, these Ai artists (if you can even call them artists) use a pre-built tool to mash up a multitude of images and print out a new one, just like a DJ, except for the fact that DJ’s actually have talent. I’m not worried about Ai taking over my job, just like how painters never got replaced by cameras, art is forever worthy in the hands of a person. As intelligent creatures we have emotion that transcends from one to another. Art isn’t something you can say in a formula, it’s a complex feeling that humans understand, you experience art. I just hope others can understand.
Kind of hard to take a machine seriously, then again, in the future who knows, maybe they’ll give the Ai feelings, and what I said would be wrong.
(but we can still tell the difference between a set of hands better)
(I'm here from the future, I realize the next few parts aren't related to making comics, I was so worried about not filling the word count that I just let my mind loose, I'll just put it in the description of thinking process which happens to come out from comic)
I'm not a teacher, at least not yet.The difference between a teacher who knows an answer and a student who knows an answer is whether they could explain it. I could know how to do something without understanding the reasons behind it, just thinking and doing, a teacher is different in the fact that they really think and do, they know the cause and effect. Teachers can explain, teachers can teach.
Students learn, reading is learning. Here we are reading me teaching you the basics of making a comic, guess I'm finally the teacher then. I'm going to teach you my process.
“Everything is nothing but nothing is something”, this is a quote I just made up, it could mean something which is also nothing at all. The thing with art is everyone has their own interpretation, a quote is an art form, could mean anything, “All roads lead to Rome” could mean everything will sort out in the end, it could also mean that Rome is a structurally failed city because people can,t get out of there.
I’ve been giving you kind of a lecture haven’t I.
I don’t want to sound like I’m better, that’s below me, so you’re saying you’re better than yourself, maybe, How can a person be better than before, improving.
I could sound like the most narcissistic person in this project, but at the same time this is my project. I keep using ‘’I’’, because what else am I supposed to use, “I’’ is the first person pronoun. Maybe I’ll use my name, But I don’t want to type “Jim” every time I need to refer to myself. Guess “I” is the way to go. Does calling yourself in the third person form make you more narcissistic? Possible. Maybe I got the word ”narcissist” wrong. Thinking of yourself as worthy of compassion is not being a narcissist.
Self-awareness is not a personality, It's more of an action that you take, I’m aware of the people around me. I’m aware that there are an infinite amount of thoughts and actions happening everyday thanks to these people. Being self aware is important.
I could think of a thousand ideas, the problem is I wouldn’t have the place to store them, if only there was some kind of machine that could hook up my brain to printer or sorts, print out a thousand ideas a second, maybe it will read some inaccurate ideas, those inaccurate ideas are my thinking process.
Perception is the existence of neurons in your head, every action you take is thought beforehand, then taken information from the database in your head to calculate a proper solution. You think, therefore you are.
#mindset#mindfulness#perception#meaning#understanding#purpose#storytelling#oc#comics#comic books#being
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Get To Know Me!
Whoa, there is lots of getting to know one another going around, so why not MORE. Thank you for tagging, @myfavouritelunatic 🌝🌚
Are you named after anyone: nope, my parents simply had a list of names they liked.
When was the last time you cried: earlier today, when a friend sent me a meme so dumb and yet so funny that I cried laughing.
Do you have kids: no.
Do you use sarcasm a lot: mmmhmmm, and it’s probably evident from my fics, too.
What’s the first thing you notice about people: the sharpness of their mind evident behind their eyes.
What’s your eye colour: green. 🌲
Scary movies or happy endings: ah, weird to choose between the two but let’s say scary. I like ambiguous, unsettling endings or happy endings that are earned and not forced.
Any special talents: 🌞 so strange to brag on the internet but here goes nothing. I’m often told that I’m funny and intelligent, and I hope that comes across in my work. 😊I make a good mentor to those who need it, and I have a knack for leadership. Also yeah ok my writing doesn’t suck. 📝I pick up languages decently well. I am certifiably great at math. 🧮 I’m strong and flexible 💪 And, of course, that thing I do with my tongue… just kidding. Or am I?
Where were you born: 👀 far from where I live
What are your hobbies: writing, playing guitar, animals, athletic endeavours, opera, vintage clothing and garment repair, coffee, hiking, travelling, thinking that birds follow me, science/math/tech
Have any pets: yep, two cats and a dog
What sports do you play/have you played: I’ve played tennis competitively, and used to swim competitively. I do both of those for fun, still. Currently, long-distance running is my go-to, and I’m always attempting to hit my next PB. I also ski, skate, do a bit of rock-climbing, and dabble in martial arts.
How tall are you: 168 cm
Favourite subject in school: LOL. What school are we talking? Primary school - I think I loved math. High-school - idk, my history and drama teachers were neat. Undergrad engineering - fuck, uh, Linear Programming 2. Masters - History and Philosophy of Science. PhD - fuck, convex optimization you fucked me up good buddy.
Dream job: to have several of them - and I’m on it.
First ship: Trip/T’Pol… Star Trek ENT forever!
Three ships: I can’t count to three… Alright, if I try hard, Trip/T’Pol, Hannibal/Will Graham, Halbrand/Galadriel
Last (current) song: Oh, I did listen to the whole day of Depeche Mode today so the last one was Never Let Me Down Again
Last movie: I LITERALLY JUST CAME OUT OF WATCHING JOHN WICK 4, IM FULL OF ADRENALINE AND TESTOSTERONE PLEASE SEDATE ME.
Currently reading: The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula LeGuin ❤️
Currently watching: nothing
Currently consuming: ginger-lemon tea
Currently craving: heading to the sauna tomorrow. Also finishing writing the current chapter of Barbarus, the Haladriel Archaeology AU!
Tagging with zero pressure: @pursuitseternal @iamstartraveller776 @hazelmaines @coraleethroughthelookingglass @penelopeisshipping @helenvader and anyone else :-)
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That Time I Helped A Book Get Published
I've been what you would classify as "an artist" for pretty much my entire life. Or, at least, as long as I could hold a pencil. As soon as I even vaguely figured out how to make a picture transfer from my brain onto paper (or whatever surface, including the walls, and woe betide anyone who tries to clean that away), I completely unloaded on the world.
Not much of my art survived until now, but here's a few from I think around when I was 8 or 9 years old. Forever stuck in the 3/4 angle facing viewer left.
That said, I was never much of a fanartist; I've always preferred to create original characters, either that exist in series I was a fan of (which I GUESS is a type of fanart? but not really what people think of when they say fanart) or I would make up entire worlds and populate them. I would make up stories to go with this too, and often made either comics or pseudo-books out of them which I just stapled together. Some things never change, really.
I would even LARP my stories all by myself (I was every character), complete with costumes and background music that was usually comprised of the soundtracks of Disney movies, video games, and later anime, which I would blast from my awesome 1990s audio player.
(I also had a Discman eventually but I have more memories of this thing)
When I learned how to, I would even make like mixtapes from the songs I used to make up my story's soundtrack. I would pretend(?) that these stories were "real" as in they were actual cartoons or whatever that I was a fan of. I didn't have any friends so it's not like I shared these things with anyone, but that didn't really stop me. I simply talked to myself about them and wrote my own critic reviews and "episode summaries".
I really do not know how I was not screened for autism when I was a child, but whatever, I'm here now.
Drawing and making up stories and such took up pretty much all of my time that wasn't already taken up by video games or books.
I was even drawing in class. To be honest I was a terrible student — I never really paid attention to anything unless it happened to be about something I was already hyperinterested in, and I subsequently did not give a flying hoot about grades. Instead of doing classwork or, yknow, listening to my teachers, I would be drawing. Some teachers caught on to the fact that I was drawing, and for those classes I switched to pretending to be taking notes or doing work but I was actually writing about my OCs.
Anyway, all this is to say, one of my teachers really liked my drawings, even though they weren't really any better than typical child doodles in my opinion.
I don't fully remember what grade this was, maybe 2nd or 3rd? This teacher was supportive of my drawings even though it was technically disruptive of my learning. She'd ask to see what I was drawing and would talk to me about it, though I wasn't ever really keen on talking about it with her, and sometimes she asked me to draw something for her. She really liked Mickey Mouse so it was usually him.
One day this teacher told me she was writing a children's book, but she needed an artist to illustrate it. So she asked me if I wanted to be the illustrator for her book. I said yes, and she and I worked together on the book for I think a couple months? I can't fully say what the book was about, all I remember is that it was about a little girl with freakishly big pigtails. I don't even remember the title, I wish I could.
The book was eventually published.
It's really funny to think that there's a book out there that my 2nd or 3rd grade teacher wrote and little baby me illustrated, and I just have zero memory of what it is. I sometimes wonder how many people have read the book or bought it for their kids or something and I am just completely ignorant of it.
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light spider
jcniper
Summary:
“Let me get this straight, you were bit by a radioactive spider and now you're running away from an evil alien parasite that duplicates itself named David?” Joel looked like he was regretting quitting cigarettes.
“Yep. Well the alien infected a guy named David, and I think it's from a different universe.” Ellie started rambling.
“I’m too old for this shit,”
Notes:
Fun fact: Ellie’s powers are inspired by a variety of different jumping spiders that give off the appearance of glowing/bioluminescence.
PROLOGUE
Ellie’s social worker once told her that she had a knack for making things more difficult for herself. It was the only thing the two of them ever agreed on. It didn’t matter how hard Ellie tried not to cause any trouble, she always found her way into it in one way or another. That ‘knack for getting into trouble’ is what she blamed when she got kicked out of her newest place for allegedly stealing her foster brother’s things–she didn’t–and beating him up after he accused her–which she actually did.
She had bounced states three different times, the result of enthusiastic foster parents that had promised here she was going to find a forever home before they realized that her ‘mental health’ and ‘behavioral issues’ were too much for her to handle and sent her back into the system. It happened again. Now she was in New York, and she was pretty sure Marlene had given up on her.
Marlene had stuffed her into a girl’s home and drove away almost immediately. The only thing that was her saving grace was her grades, which shocked even Ellie. Four months into being there, she applied to a boarding school scholarship just to get an excuse to use the computer and ended up getting in. When Marlene came back to the house looking happy and asking for her, Ellie thought it was a joke.
It wasn’t a joke.
She got pancakes and a dorm room at a ‘higher learning’ high school out of it.
“How am I gonna tell them that I actually hate school and didn’t think I was actually gonna get in?” She muttered under her breath.
“You’re not going to do that,” Marlene rolled her eyes.
“But–”
“Do you want a dorm room you share with one other girl, or to go back to the girl’s home where you share it with five?”
“Let’s get going.”
“That’s what I thought.” Ellie didn’t argue anymore. Marlene must’ve grown tired of pretending to celebrate with Ellie and went silent. When Ellie moved in, she didn’t get to see who she would be rooming with because she was apparently allowed to move in a week before move-in week actually was.
A week to herself.
That was something she’d never had before.
She tried not to wonder how it would go wrong.
*
Ellie was really bad at making friends.
It was one of the first facets of her personality she had discovered when she was a kid. A lot of people thought she was weird and too much, and she wished she knew what about her she had to change to make it so people actually cared about her.
Ellie decided that this year she would do emotional damage control and not even try to make friends here. That wasn’t what she needed to do. She needed to make it work so she didn’t go back to a group home with an overbearing guardian breathing down her back twenty-four-seven.
She got into the swing of it pretty fast. A lot of her classes were more art and music focused, but she did have some core classes including a physics class that she really didn’t want to take. She had been hearing other kids gossiping about how the new teacher was a hardass. She couldn’t do that. Her and hardass teachers always ended up in verbal sparring matches. Ellie was always the one that ended up getting kicked out of class. The entire day, a pit was forming in her stomach.
It only got worse when she got into class. The teacher was an older man with salt and pepper hair, tan skin and a face that said ‘I haven’t experienced joy in my one hundred years of life’. He didn’t look like he should be a teacher, though. The way he stood, the way he surveyed the entire room, and the way he dressed was just not what she expected from a teacher in New York.
She read the board.
‘ Mr. Miller.’
“Sit down, the bell’s about to ring.”
She did, despite the irritation his tone caused her. Ellie did her best to remind herself that she wasn’t trying to start fights with anyone this year. Students kept filing in, chatter filling the room. A girl sat down right next to Ellie. Her black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, swinging behind her head. It was shiny. She glanced over to Ellie and smiled and Ellie had to keep herself from panicking because she had freckles that reminded her of constellations and this wasn’t the way she pictured her school year starting.
The bell rang, but Ellie didn’t notice. Neither did the other girl. “Hey,” The other girl said.
“Hey,” Ellie nearly squeaked and immediately felt like she was going to die. “Um, hey. I’m Ellie.”
“Dina. I’m right across the hall from you.”
“Oh, really?”
“Hey, you two in the back row. What’re your names?” Mr. Miller interjected. Ellie became acutely aware of all of the students that were staring at her and Dina. Dina shrunk a little in her seat, away from Ellie.
That made it a little worse.
“I’m talkin’ to you. What’re your names?”
“Are you a cowboy?” Ellie blurted out.
‘ Stupid, stupid, stupid!’
He paused, obviously thrown by the odd veer off course from the conversation. “Names.”
“Dina,” Dina said. “Sorry for talking, sir.”
Ellie sighed, “Ellie.” She didn’t say sorry. He glared at her for a second and then shrugged and turned back to the board.
“Great. Neither of y’all are in trouble.” He was definitely from the South. Ellie found herself trying to guess his accent. Louisana? Florida? Wyoming? Was Wyoming even the south? That was when Ellie realized there was a difference between ‘rural’ and ‘the south’ and briefly had to reteach herself everything that she’d ever learned about geography. She glanced around the room, looking for signs before her eyes found a cup that said ‘ Keep Austin Weird’ on it and got the answer to her question.
He was from Texas.
That explained the trucker-cowboy-private-investigator vibes that she was getting from him. “I understand everyone wants to talk, so just do me a favor. Shut up during the lesson. I’ll teach, let you guys get to your assignments and as soon as you get to your assignments you can chat amongst yourselves. But if you cheat, I’ll know.”
“How?” A boy asked. He was sitting on the other side of Dina. They both shared a look and she chuckled a little. Ellie rolled her eyes.
“I just will.”
He was still looking at the board and writing things, “Like I can tell that you’re texting under your desk right now.”
“Woah.”
“How did he do that?” Someone hissed.
Ellie was ready to get out of there. “Can you guys shut the fuck up?” She hissed.
“You shut the fuck up.”
“All of you shut up.” Mr. Miller said.
It worked.
She had never seen a teacher say shut up in a monotone voice in a room full of high school children and get them to do it the first time. It actually worked. Ellie gave him kudos for that. Kudos from her basically meant she wasn’t going to try to make this man’s life harder in one way or another.
She was ready to zone out and zone out hard.
That didn’t happen.
He was actually good at teaching.
All of the concepts were basics. Things that even Ellie, (she had walked in convinced that she was going to fail this class), could get. He drew things out, “My drawing ability should probably put me in jail.” Joel said. “So, forgive me. Here are the concepts you need to know.” He drew everything out.
Momentum, conservation of energy, Newton’s laws of motion, motion, position, gravity, and so on in so forth. For momentum, Joel drew a stick figure swinging from construction crane to construction crane. All of them were different types of action scenes of varying levels of amusement.
“It’s the first day, we’re going to do something fun for the first assignment. Pick one basic concept of physics and create an illustrative diagram that shows an example of the concept in real life. You have until the end of the next class to do it. Make it entertaining, I don’t want to be bored when I’m grading your things.”
The class stared at him blankly. “Go, get started.”
“So…we’re just…drawing…?” Someone asked.
Ellie stared. She didn’t want to stare a gift horse in the mouth. “I’m not expecting you to understand concepts enough to write an essay on the first day of freshman year.”
That sentence alone made Mr. Miller her favorite teacher. The class devolved into different discussions, but they kept it low and respectful and Joel ignored them until the bell ring. Everyone packed up.
Ellie turned, wanting to talk to Dina more and realized she was gone. Everyone filed out of the class so fast that she stood there for a second. Mr. Miller was still at his computer, disinterested in everything else going on around him. Ellie walked up to his desk, standing there and waiting for him to turn. When he didn’t, she cleared her throat. He glanced up at her. “What?”
“Sorry about talking earlier, and uh–asking that dumb question? It was dumb.”
“What’s your name again?”
“Ellie.”
“Ellie,” He paused. Something in his face looked off, like he was in pain. The air around him seemed to warble and glitch like static. It happened so fast she was sure he hallucinated it. The coffee mug he had been holding shattered on the floor.
“Damn it,” He muttered under his breath.
“Let me help.” She didn’t know what to do, but she wanted to help somehow. Ellie started grabbing tissue after tissue, ready to help clean it up when Joel shook his head.
“You’re gonna be late for class.”
“I am?” She glanced up at the clock. “I am! Oh, shit.” She started running out the door, cringing when she realized she had said that curse word aloud. “Sorry.”
“I don’t care if you cuss.” He called after her and she careened down the hallway, going as fast as she could.
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𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝟓 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, share the top songs in your playlist that most inspire / represent your muses the most. bonus points if you include lyrics to go along with it.
i . Final Girl (feat. Slayyyter) — Graveyardguy
Yeah okay, well here's the twist.
I'm a stone cold cunt, a killer bitch.
And I'll break your heart, I'll make you sick.
And I'll rip you apart from limb to limb.
You'll learn right now I don't play nice.
And if you hurt me once, I'll kill you twice.
And I won't go first, Drew Barrymore.
Cause I'm the last bitch up.
The final girl.
ii. Undertaker — Graveyardguy
Cause we're both sick and twisted,
We love the sadistic.
So why don't we fuck for our lives?
Cause when I'm kissing you,
I taste the kiss of death.
I'll have what's left of you,
Until there's nothing left.
iii. Are You Afraid (feat. Graveyardguy) — Rocky Gray(?)
You saying that you're not the best for me.
That you'll be the death of me.
Don't need your love, I just need right next to me.
I want you obsessed with me.
Feel what I feel.
You're a curse not a blessing babe,
Til' you start undressing me.
Tell me the truth now, yeah?
Are you afraid of me?
Cause baby you're scaring me.
I feel your teeth in my neck.
You rip the clothes off my back.
You're driving me crazy, I might die.
You got me screaming for my life.
Deadly and dangerous, oh my.
Tell me, are you afraid?
iv. Brutus — The Buttress
My name is Brutus and my name means heavy.
So with a heavy heart I'll guide this dagger into the heart of my enemy.
My whole life you were a teacher and friend to me.
Please know my actions are not motivated only by envy!
I too have a destiny.
This death will be art.
The people will speak of this day from near and afar.
This event will be history,
And I'll be great too.
I don't want what you had,
I wanna be you!
I always knew I could be the one,
Though I feel the endless pain of being,
And I am scorched by the sun?
Of humble origins and born of the cursed sex.
My name is Brutus, but the people will call me Rex.
v. How to Make a Monster — Graveyardguy
My stone cold heart was never meant to beat.
Now this corpse of love is rotting in the street.
I know you wanted me to be your lover,
But we were never gonna be forever.
Told you once, but you don't remember.
Told you twice, but you won't surrender.
You better check under your covers.
I'll grip you up and I'll pull you under.
And that's what happens when you make a monster.
I've gotcha.
Cause you gave your heart,
To a boy who will fuck it up.
And you fell in love,
With the thought that we'd last forever.
Tagged by: @tenebrispxnea
Tagging: @s-talking since I was tagged in this a long time ago and forgot about it in my drafts and I can’t think of anyone else to tag at the moment.
#✠ [ ' ɢɪꜰᴛ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ɢᴏᴅ. ' ] - ✡ ᴍɪᴋᴀᴇʟᴀ ꜱʜɪɴᴅᴏ ✡#✠ [ ' ᴛᴜʀɴɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀɢᴇs ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴏʀʏ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ʟɪғᴇ. ' ] - ✡ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴs ✡#{ I know that I was supposed to find songs that fit for Mika in general but... I went with songs that fit Mika for one specific verse. }#{ Pretty sure y'all can tell which one too. *looks at the verse with Envy* }#{ So yeah I just kinda went along with that aspect only cause I'm having brain rot for both Mika and Envy right now thanks to that ask- }#{ Envyness sent to me on White Day that I was only just able to get to because Tumblr didn't even tell me that I had an ask. }#{ But thank you for tagging me in this Serin! }#{ Granted you tagged me on your old blog but I just went ahead and tagged the new one. Hope that's okay? }
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For the music emoji ask game: 🎥📚🥲💖 please!
🎥song that paints a picture in my mind: I had such a hard time with this question because I felt like a story song or a musical theater song would be “cheating”.
I am just going to go with “Palmcorder Yajna” by the Mountain Goats because it’s both very explicit and very... not at the same time. Like it’s very easy to understand once you know what all the references are referencing.
Either way, it’s evocative for sure.
😢song that makes you cry: “Unlikely Lovers” from Falsettos. At this point in the musical, the character Whizzer is dying of AIDS and his partner and their friends visit him in the hospital. The line “and we vow that we will buy the farm arm in arm” tends to be where I lose it. Even if the context wasn’t so crushing the harmony at the point alone would bring me to tears.
💖 guilty pleasure song: Now I like to say that I don’t believe in guilty pleasures because you shouldn’t feel guilty for enjoying things regardless of what others think…. but if I had to pick I would say Not the Boy Next Door— the glee cast recording by Chris Colfer. I know glee is categorically Not Good and people mock it relentlessly. And a lot of it is deserved because... woof.
And yet, it was very important to me as a child in the conservative rural midwest. Honestly glee was actually they first ever representation I can remember seeing at like 9 (I think?) years old. Of course my parents made me turn it off because a gay people were “disgusting” …but I still remembered how when Kurt came out, his dad told him he loved him and that it was okay. And that planted in me a seed of an idea of a belief that maybe my parents weren’t right about everything. And, you know what? By the time I realized that I am gay the idea didn’t automatically make me hate myself. Because I had been told just once in an incredibly crucial moment that it is okay. So yeah. Glee is important actually.
And Chris Colfer is just simply an incredible performer. I love his voice. He kills this song.
📚 song/album you could write a term paper on: Sunday from tick tick boom (specifically the 2021 movie adaptation directed by Lin Manuel Miranda)
Abridged term paper as follows:
To understand the brilliance of this song and the emotional sucker punch it carries you need to know a bit of musical theater history. So let’s start with the place that makes the most sense, with “god” himself-- Stephen Sondheim.
Sondheim was one of the most (if not THE most) respected composers and lyricists in musical theater history. I cannot think of any singular person who has impacted their chosen art form to the same massive extent as Steve impacted musical theater. To compare him to Shakespeare is not an exaggeration. He was revered and beloved almost universally within the theater community, not only for his genius but for who he was as a person. He was known as an excellent teacher and mentor (just watch him instruct a college student attempting to sing one of the most difficult songs he ever wrote/one of the most difficult songs in musical theater here) and for answering quite literally every single one of the thousands upon thousands of pieces of fan-mail he received.
One of his beloved musicals and the show he described as being his “most autobiographical”/the one that he put the most of himself into, was Sunday in the Park with George. It was inspired by the painting A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte by Georges Seurat, though the story is largely fictionalized.
(you know, this painting)
The themes of Sunday in the Park with George center around what it means to be an artist, the desire to leave a legacy, and making choices between one’s creative work vs one’s relationships. Act one closes with the song “Sunday” in which George makes order out of the chaos of life and places the final touches to his masterpiece, capturing a perfect moment, and cementing his legacy, forever.
With the background laid, let us move on to talking about Jonathan Larson, one of the young writers Sondheim mentored who went on to do great work.
Jonathan is best known for writing the book, music, and lyrics for Rent-- a musical which won several Tony Awards, including Best Musical; the Pulitzer Prize for Drama; ran for twelve years on Broadway; influenced the creation of a new sub-genre of musical; and became massively popular and iconic, not only in the theater world but in popular culture as well. However, Jonathan was never able to see his work become a success as he tragically died of an aortic dissection on the morning that Rent was to perform its first preview performance. He was only thirty-five years old.
Jonathan struggled his entire professional career to achieve recognition from the world at large, something that he expressed in his own semi-autobiographical piece Tick, Tick... Boom! The musical was originally formatted as a “rock monologue” that Jon performed himself, though it has seen many revisions since his death, eventually turning it into the fully-formed musical it is today.
The show begins with Jonathan discussing his fear of turning thirty. The theme of "running out of time” was first introduced to the piece by Jonathan himself to illustrate his fear of getting older, but it was hugely emphasized in later productions by writers and directors who knew that he never would. Today, the looming sense of some inescapable fate pervades throughout the show as viewers know what is coming and are helpless to stop it. Jonathan will become famous and respected and beloved, but he will never see it. While everyone in the show assures him that he is still young and has a bright future ahead of him, we know differently. He is running out of time. He only has five years left.
In this sad way, the show that originally began as a piece by a young man fighting for his future has become a bittersweet legacy we look back on, making meaning out of Jonathan’s work that he would never realize was there. This is exemplified nowhere better than in the song “Sunday”.
“Sunday” began as a simple parody of Sondheim’s “Sunday”, recognizable for what it is from the first few notes and becoming clearer and clearer as the song progresses. The original joke of the piece was that Jonathan was arranging the patrons and crappy interior of the diner where he worked in the same way that George was constructing his masterpiece, drawing a comparison between the mundane (or even ugly) and something beautiful.
To make it meta: in Jonathan’s semi-autobiographical musical about his struggles as an artist, he referenced his mentor’s semi-autobiographical musical about the struggles of being an artist. Of course, in the parody, Jon cast himself as the pale imitation of great art, suggesting he was nothing in comparison. It was light-hearted, fun, and, at the time, a pretty recent/topical reference to make. It was never meant to be anything more than a joke.
But then Jonathan left a legacy.
In the 2021 film, Lin Manuel Miranda made phenomenal directorial decisions in a dozen different places but “Sunday” was his home run. He transformed the song from a joke to the pinnacle of what Tick, Tick...Boom! has become, a tribute to the memory of Jonathan Larson.
Throughout the movie, there are cameos of countless famous Broadway figures, but those that appear in the diner scene and utilized perfectly. From true veteran legends, to modern celebrities, to original cast members of Rent, the diner is packed with heroes of the stage. As the song progresses they join in behind Jon to form an inter-generational choir, representing the past, present, and future of musical theater. You can see the arch of the line passing down, the years of history represented and the lives changed. And the hope that radiates toward the future.
A passion and joy for musical theater was passed from Sondheim onto Jonathan, and he went forward to inspire a new generation of theater kids-- including Lin Manuel Miranda. Who, regardless of your personal feelings about him, has already made enormous impact on the world of musical theater and lit the flame for another generation of kids.
That’s what this moment means.
It’s a celebration and a thank you and an honoring of our history, of those that came before us and inspired us, of those who are our future.
There is a moment that is always guaranteed to bring me to tears. As the song nears its peak, “Jon” (played by Andrew Garfield, who should have won an Oscar damn it) takes the hand of legend Bernadette Peters, who originated the role of Dot in Sunday in the Park with George (the main female character, the woman in purple in the painting). She is dressed similarly to her character, including her hat (trust me, the hat is important) and he ushers her into her place in the light. He places his hands over his heart, complete adoration in his eyes, and he bows to her. It’s a sign of utmost respect, of both Jon (the real Jon) acknowledging the legend of Sondheim that came before him, and Lin nodding to both Jon and Steve. It’s all of us watching and wishing we got the chance to say thank you to Steve and Jon and all the others who we look up to and adore.
It’s saying, Jonathan, you didn’t get to see it, but you are remembered. You are loved. You are honored.
You are forever.
#I could talk about tick tick boom for hours#if you want to hear more about it come to my inbox#sorry this is very rambling and not well organized#thanks for the ask!#sorry it took so long to answer!#I was really thinking about the answers#ask game#about me
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Hi! I was hoping for a letter matchup for the flavor of love event?
I go by Howl and my pronouns are they/them. I’m in the English server and I’ve finished all available chapters. I have no preference as to romantic or platonic relationships because I’m Demisexual/romantic so as long as it’s quality™️ I’d be happy. I also have no preference to situation of the letter so anything goes. I was also sorted into Heartslabyul by the magic online sorter. I have never played an otome game before but I’ve played monster prom which is pretty close. My favorite character from that was Zoe or Damian 😔
In terms of personality it really depends because I’m fairly…intense. And contradictory. I can notice small stuff about people, but I usually miss major signs (I have accidentally woo’d many people in my obliviousness), I alternate between being clever and good at strategizing and walking headfirst into a brick wall. I tend to break up or dissipate fights but the minute I’m in one myself I won’t back down until I’ve won. I have an extremely strong sense of justice but I’m also really vengeful and can be shady when I need to be. I have often intimidated others in presence alone (despite being 5’7”?) and also had a lot of people think I’m innocent and sweet. I love making people laugh and often give people gifts just cause I was thinking about them, and I love spending quality time with people and acting like an idiot for their amusement alone. I also used to give a lot of advice therapy to people and was often called by my friends in emergencies. Not sure if that was a good idea on their part but nonetheless I can keep my calm under that kind pressure. Also I hate pranks because I was ~bullied~ *jazz hands*
I have also been told that I don’t smile a lot. I do not know if this is true because I often think I’m smiling and people say I look pissed off so. There’s that
I definitely walk the line between villain and princess because on one hand I was once considered my old choir’s ‘mom’ (someone made me a little medal that said that once, it was so sweet) but on the other hand I made my pre-law teacher cry so like.
In terms of who I’d hang out with at NRC I think I’d probably float a bit but I’d spend some time with Floyd. I feel like he’d get a kick out of trying to watch me dance (I have zero coordination) and possibly Lilia because I’m a music lover and will talk about music theory for hours given the chance. Possibly also Ortho or Idia because I enjoy doing art and animation in my spare time and spending quiet time in dark spaces
I think I’m probably on team white chocolate because I’m very devoted to the people I care about and often in weird situations but I could also be team strawberry due to having a bit of bite
I’m definitely pro team white but team mint do be lookin like fun sometimes. And team strawberry is always reliable...
I hope this is okay I think I answered all the questions. It’s my first time doing one of these so I hope I didn’t do something wrong or do anything to offend 😅💕
Here is the link to the letter: 2 Lines & A Circle : Flavor of love matchup! Letter edition! (tumblr.com)
Also I'm very sorry about taking forever on this!
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YOU do all of them!!!!!!!
you can still ask a free question :eyeroll:
What is your nickname?
I don't think I have any they're mostly like one-person-specific 😔 or like just my name my name is short enough
When is your birthday?
i don't celebrate and i'm still trying to choose a date 😔 rn jan 01 but considering oct 22 (tartaglia anniversary day)
What was your longest relationship?
like... 9 months... it's not going good for me chat
What is your favorite book?
ermm for the blorbos Shadow of the Fox - Julie Kagawa, for worldbuilding/plot/literally everything else, The Finishing School or The Custard Protocol - Gail Carriger (what a surprise i don't shut up about them)
What is something you're insecure about?
the lengths i will go to be accepted by people is EMBARRASSING!!!!!! i need to get a grip
5 Male/Female celebrity crushes
i dreamt i was flirting with this one person i follow on ig a while back. i think i sent you his leon kennedy cosplay. still giggling a little. i wouldn't call it a crush though
What is your dream job?
getting paid 500000 every day forever and ever for being cute
What do you consider your biggest accomplishment?
enduring the horrors. also getting my cousin to like me.
What is a fact about you that nobody would believe?
ermmm i think all of my ginfacts are pretty believable 😔 i love public speaking and presenting it's so fun. i peaked w my projective geometry presentation last year.
What were your highs and lows for this last month?
my classmate and i met up for school but outside of class yesterday and i'm still riding that high. my math prof was happy w me i finished all of the hw for this exam 😋 but also The Horrors.
Where is somewhere you'd like to visit?
i would kill to see a teamlab exhibition. but like. any interactive/immersive art exhibition. pleasepleasepleaseplease
How do you de-stress?
I don't particularly get stressed? probably youtube. those 1-3hr lets plays yk.
What are your favorite apps besides tumblr?
I probably use discord the most?? my mewts are in there.
Describe yourself in one sentence.
the horrors persist but so must i
What do you think makes you attractive?
ummm i hope my energy?? i'd like to be able to light up a room (one day i'll get there 😭) physically though i like my eyes
What is something you're really good at?
ermmm baking 😋
What is something you're really bad at?
i can't make pancakes to save my life. you put a pan and a stove and ingredients down in front of me and it's either burnt, misshapen, disgusting-tasting, or all three.
A time that you told a lie.
"No, I didn't forget" i did. 100%
What's a totally random and useless fact that you know?
there's about 4500-4600 species of cockroaches. about 30 of them are commonly known as pests, with the most common in the states being american, german, brown-banded, and oriental. they generally prefer dark and humid areas. bathroom roaches are pretty common.
Who knows you the best?
ermm rex aside, probably rowan tbh.. 😭 maybe doll or tired
What is your most prized possession?
the rowkitty plush. he comes with us everywhere. him or the saki tenma doll my irl crocheted for me for valentines day (also lives in my bag)
What is your longest friendship?
i think irl 4 years? 4 and a half? online i think jake or lane. jesus christ the passage of time
When did you first feel like an adult?
i am not and i do not feel anywhere close to it 😭 but maybe like Being Taken More Seriously when my parents/teachers started casually swearing around me.
Do you/ Have you played any sports?
I did soccer for 3 years? spring and fall. i've been doing figure skating for the past 6, but not as much this past year bc of The Horrors 😔
How are you feeling right now?
the horrors (eating cold overnight refrigerated rice) (it's so dry chat i can't do this) but i just got the THIRD batch of cakes out of the oven and this one finally looks good 😭 the horrors have been sooo mean to me today the other two recipes didn't turn out good. the first one had too many eggs the second one . felt like a hockey puck tbh. the second one i can probably assemble and give to the neighbors but idk what to do with the first one. it tastes. like something.
Are you an early bird or a night owl?
tired all the time avian. maybe slightly leaning night owl.
Do you believe in love at first sight?
no but i'm definitely a victim of infatuation at first sight. it's so bad.
Favorite song lyrics right now?
ummmmmmm i can't decide 😋 maybe carnivore starset or like the dawn the oh hellos
What does self care look like for you?
takoyaki and forge labs
Describe yourself with 3 singers.
MCR, Royal & the Serpent, Yunomi
What makes you nervous?
ermmm the only thing i can think of is drinking around people/in public?? bc i don't like taking my mask off like at all at all i'll explode if someone sees me without it. or like having to do something new, even assisted
What’s a pet peeve you have?
specifically bc of mermay but tails that fold like legs... like knees... i can't do it. that looks like it hurts so bad. anyways people that consider liking twilight style vampires as monsterfuckery. that's just a human with spice sorry.
What will always make you cry?
EP 7 VIOLET EVERGARDEN it gets me every time man. also yuri on ice.
What kind of first impression do you think you make on people?
ummm good natured, i hope 😭 but probably weird (/neg) at first
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15 questions for 15 friends
Tagged by @pikapeppa ily💖💖💖💖
ARE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? Yes! My mom’s aunt Paula except my mom switch the u out for an o. I was supposed to be an Angelica lmao
WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? Last night! Ateez was performing at Coachella, and I was watching it live on YouTube. I just love them so much😭😭😭 their music has gotten me through so much the last few years, like if you could have soulmates with music and a group, it would be them.
DO YOU HAVE KIDS? 👧🏻
WHAT SPORTS DO YOU PLAY/HAVE YOU PLAYED? I never got into sports because of asthma but I love swimming and I always wanted to learn archery, but in school, girls weren’t allowed to do it 🙄
DO YOU USE SARCASM? So much so that sometimes my family can’t tell if I’m being sarcastic or not lmao I mean, my friends can tell so idk 🤷🏻♀️
WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE? The vibes lmao idk sometimes it’s their hair or their makeup or like something they’re wearing.
WHAT'S YOUR EYE COLOUR? Brown
SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS? Depends honestly. I love happy endings, but I like spooky shit. I learned the hard way that books that have the word haunting in the title does not always mean ghosts. Was not thrilled lmao
ANY TALENTS? Idk tbh lmao I guess I draw and write. I can cook 🤣 I used to sing, and I do actually miss it.
WHERE WERE YOU BORN? New York
WHAT ARE YOUR HOBBIES? Reading (on a slump again so this feels like a lie), writing and drawing. Playing video games, cooking and baking.
DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS? Nope. I choose not to have any due to health and also because the trauma™️ my dad ate my rabbit as a kid and I decided at 5 years old I’d never get another one lmao 🤣 I swear I went to therapy and told her about this but idk now I’m just so used to it, I don’t feel the need to have one.
HOW TALL ARE YOU? 5’4 I think. My ID says 5’5 but I wore shoes when I got that.
FAVOURITE SUBJECT IN SCHOOL? English and art. English teachers were always the ones who made school bearable. And art class was just the best. I do enjoy history also.
DREAM JOB? In this economy????? Lmao no but I honestly have 0 idea what I would do. I’ve never enjoyed any job I had- I worked because of necessity and to provide for my family, never because it was a “dream” to work there. I’ve been out of the work force since having my kid and so now, I don’t even know what I would do. 🫠
I don’t know who to tag because it’s been forever- so if you see this, go for it and tag me so I can see it 🫣
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i remember needing something to love from a very young age; something that was mine and mine alone, something i could carry. it’s always been much easier to care about anything else but myself. some of my friends did art, but my kindergarten teacher tried holding me back for not coloring inside the lines. quite frankly, i just didn’t have the time to give. it was boring. some people could play music but there was no one around to teach me or even hear my interest. in the panhandle, you basically had two choices: play sports or be nobody. at the time, i don’t really think i grasped the idea, but my mother did so i played sports from the second i was old enough to.
i played soccer and hated it because it gave my bullies an excuse to kick me in the shins and push me down. my mother made me do it for four years anyway. i could ride a horse decently well, mostly everyone could, so i rodeoed. i really enjoyed it but could tell that i was not the type to be successful long term in that lifestyle. i don’t know how or why i was able to recognize that so early on. i was good at running because i could go on forever and recover in under a minute, until i started smoking cigarettes. by that time id already decided basketball was what i would commit to.
in the summertime, i didn’t have school to escape to and summer camps don’t really exist in keyes so we had to do it old school and just play outside. barbarian, i know. my grandpa, my step fathers father, was one of the most genuinely sweet men ive ever met. he taught me to drive and how to be kind. he also installed a basketball hoop in my driveway so i would have something to practice on.
i spent nearly 8 hours a day on that basket for several years, even moving it to boise city with us when we left. i shot on that basket until i graduated high school.
i still remember being 8 years old and coming in after a long, hot summer day. i was thrilled because i had made a shot from the furthest i’d ever been from the goal and had perfected some dribble move. my mother was depressed, and uninterested in my enthusiasm. attempting to give her some of my own joy, i told her treat when i made it to the wnba, we’d never have to worry about anything ever again. my mother laughed and said “yeah right.” the concept of failure hadn’t really entered my realm yet, especially with all of the high standards i made sure to meet. puzzled, i asked for clarification, “well do you think ill at least be able to play in college?” her demeanor changed as she realized i was being serious. my mother has always insisted on telling the truth, even though she often chooses which truth to believe. a look of calm washed over her and she looked me deep in the eye when she said “no, i don’t think you will.”
for the next ten years i dedicated myself to the game of basketball and it loved me back. i made friends, learned valuable lessons about hard work and success and working together with other people. my dry mannered basketball coach paid me a compliment in my senior year that i will never forget, and embarrassingly sometimes shout out at parties when im winning a game of beer pong. “bratcher didn’t call me the best three point shooter in this half of the state for nothing!” i know, it doesn’t seem like much, but you have to understand the type of encouraging i was accustomed to receiving— none. it would be several years before i realized how much she had impacted me as a human being.
anyway, i got the scholarship. one day after my 18th birthday, and the most traumatic event of my adolescence, i signed to play basketball at southwestern college. this was my chance to show everyone exactly what they’d been missing, including my mother.
i was suspended twice and overdosed after being on the team for a year and two months. i played maybe 5 junior varsity games, for two minutes at the end of each half. i was more worried about losing someone who could’ve cared less than even thinking about what i had really cost myself. i’m often worried my life will play out in the same way, and wonder what i would be like if things had been different when i was 8 years old.
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why is our generation blamed for so much...when it's the ones before us who are trying to carve us wrong? they're the one saying we're sensitive when we speak against racism, homophobia, classism, colorism, inequality, hate crimes...but they get mad at the sight of a box of pads/tampons, men in makeup, and woman breastfeeding because "what if there are kids around?" -> no kid is grossed out about something unless you make them grossed out, kids have been brought up playing with paint and art and only want the worls to be more beautiful, and a child would see a woman feeding her baby -because kids don't sexualize basic science and survival.
we have a group of old, white men in ugly-ass ties telling little, innocent girls that if they were raped, it's their fault for looking like that. Because My Little Pony frocks and flip-flops are just so sexual, especially if she's barely 12. they like em youthful apparently.
if your guy friend wears a skirt, the school won't care. in fact people -even you- might praise them for "breaking gender norms" as if men havent been in kilts and loincloths forever. anyway. he'll be fine. but the second you wear one it's all "are they staring at me?" "oh god I knew this was a bad idea" "shitshitshit those stairs are glass-" and you think you're {or actually will be} getting stares from male teachers, classmates, female administrators who'll mentally write you up thinking they need a uniform -when the uniform would involves us wearing skirts???
why is it that when i search up 'school boy', we get kids, actually studying, but when its 'school girl' you get sex costumes?
they say "why dont you go out enough, you're always on that screen" when they're the ones who don't let us outside the front porch, and they don't trust our friends. when its their generation that has all the killers, rapists, and kidnappers hiding and waiting to grab us whilst we're on our way home from school.
"back in my day we didn't have these phones, we got along just fine"
times change...back in your day you didn't believe people were equal just because their melanin was stronger than yours
"back in my day we actually went out to the movies, shopping, eating, fairs"
back in your day, you didn't have to worry about the outside world
"back in my day we didn't have these gays and trans deformities and whatnot"
oh no, you did, you just had it illegal
"you're just gay/scared/depressed/angry/wantingfreedom/canttakeajoke because all your friends are"
you're just a fucking coward, a judgy fuckpot who's just as bad -if not worse- than how you see us, because all your friends our
we use the internet to an adavntage. they use it to pass the time, and more than us...but why are we shamed for it?
PTSD: if someone was sexually harrased, two years ago, they're told "it happened a while ago, she/he can be forgiven, get over it". if someone served in a war 20 years ago, they're never remotely asked to 'move on?'
anyone can get sexually harrased. Men. Women. Children. Stop drilling it into our heads that's only those who asked for it.
we pledge to shape a future that doesn't resent their pasts. why couldnt you?
#quotes#writing#racisim#colorism#homophobia#standup#truth#weneedtochangethis#protest#relatable#gen z post#gen z culture
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AI startups with no talent thieving on artists copyright work made me see that I am entering a field much scarier than the one we had before and I see that even if I have the best tools, the best people around, and best code to compete with them that I would never recover the genuine feelings I have from true art in our lives, it will get much worse, to the point where you will see robots take jobs and say they have to work to not be turned off you will see them act human and you will see that they will be programmed to emotionally arbitrage our minds with owners manipulating our environments and shopping experiences, it's like visiting a church and being told jesus is coming, he will return, but the meaning of that just means the work you do influences others decisions or their abilities to keep going, if robots are trained to do something repetively imagine how many people shop in fabricated stores that the meaningful things we buy are just a prop in our arsenal of vigor and vitality. my ai art was generated with the work i did from years ago, the admiration i have for education and perseverance of the workers in japan and marketing teams around the world that make still images have meaning but they didn't give me the emotions i had when receiving them from the original studio. we may be falling through debt and continue this cycle of never-ending toxification of why art matters, and why a workers life has meaning, it's because we are not meant to live forever, our designs will not carry us into the future unless we continue to refine them. when you see a worker think of yourself instead of what they have, think of the things they have given you because one day there won't be a next version or the instructions to make it happen won't be there. whomever you believe in, firstly believe in your designs and forget the places people are from, believe in your designs impact and what your common goal is. don't forget what it means to be human. because when you work for people you become a weapon of them and you will not see it through your eyes, but the actions you make impact other's lives. don't be the weapon, be the one that chooses inferior designs to combine them into your own ideas, be the one to invent your own things even if others can't make them. when wave OS came out I knew almost nothing about coding, I had programmed a few things years ago but they didn't help me. I had to learn so many things to make it work the way it was meant to. today maiOS is the end-result of all those years of coding and tinkering. It's an endgame solution to the never-ending spirals of life. Something that combines everything into one, inspired by macOS and fueled by archillect's crazy ambitions to simplify further and further until the thing you see is yourself in the picture. that is what it means to become one with the artist and to have a point of view that is an overview of the whole idea. to see the world not from god's point of view, but from your own in theirs. to understand that visitors homes can be left in ruins if they are abandoned for others visions the way my own home was, the way turkey was left to the neighboring countries and partitioned into two or three classes. that fragmentation is what makes us whole but our behaviours against all kinds of people for our own ignorance leaves them in shambles. Do not become a weapon of society. Become a DJ, an artist, a creator, a poet, a writer, a teacher, a coder, a nutritionist, a gym teacher, but don't forget that your life is your life and it is not the right of an owner to take away jobs from people who need them because the simplest minds often have the greatest answers of all.
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