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veliseraptor · 3 years

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So this is in NO WAY PRESSURING, get to this whenever you're bored and have nothing better to do, but I (have still not watched The Untamed) would love to hear any disorganized rambles around your fic 'Punitive Measures', like your thoughts while writing it, how you view Xue Yang's fight/flight/freeze instinct, and/or where you would take the plot if you ever came back to it (again, not pressuring, I'm not asking for a sequel, I'm asking for director's commentary. Also I know the mysterious flute was implying Wei Wuxian, I know that much and not much more.) It's a really fun, quick fic that I enjoy reading through while I keep circling around your longer, more intimidating stories. I aspire to write like you.

oh boy, well, I don't know that I ever have nothing to do but here I am answering this ask anyway, because I like talking about my fic even if I get self-conscious about it.

this entire fic falls solidly into the genre of fic I write that is legitimately just “I’m gonna fuck up this character I love because it’ll be fun and I love to do that” and then just kinda...went for it. actually harder than I was initially planning! my vague sense of what I was going to do with this fic didn’t have Xue Yang down an eye at the end of it.

but when inspiration strikes, what’s a girl to do, etc.

I actually thought recently about writing a sequel to this fic (or, well, continuing into the AU it started, more like) because the concept of Wei Wuxian and Xue Yang being bloodthirsty vengeance brethren is a very good one for me, personally, and at the point their paths would be intersecting in this AU a more plausible one than it would be at pretty much any other time (I would argue, at least in CQLverse). And that’s where I think this would be going. Because Xue Yang would see Wei Wuxian, in his bloodiest frame of mind, powered up with a gorgeous flute of bad vibes and go “fuck yes” even if he wasn’t in a place where he really needed the help.

The question I had was whether Wei Wuxian would be interested in accepting company, and I feel like Xue Yang on that front could be convincing. And the way that the latter would both enable and egg on all the former’s darkest fantasies and impulses...I’m just saying, Wen Chao and everyone he has ever known is in for a very bad time, possibly even worse than they already were.

I invite you to picture in this AU the part where Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji find not just darker and edgier Wei Wuxian at the end of their scavenger hunt but darker and edgier Wei Wuxian with a friend. A familiar friend! Now down an eye and practically picking his teeth with Wen Chao’s finger bones. :D

since you asked for disorganized rambling I went back to reread and I’ll give you some director’s commentary on a few things

And he’d kind of hoped Wen Ruohan would be too busy figuring out how to deal with his brewing war to dedicate much attention to looking for one absent retainer. And even if he did, Xue Yang had sort of figured that finding him would fall to Wen Chao, who’d probably struggle to find his own ass with two hands.

kicking off this director’s commentary with Xue Yang’s brutal assessment of the competency of Wen Chao.

tbh one of my favorite things about CQL’s involving Xue Yang in the whole Sunshot storyline, despite the merry hell it plays with timeline stuff later, is how obviously little regard Xue Yang has for the Wens, even when they’re at the height of their power. He shows Wen Ruohan himself very little respect, and I can’t imagine anyone else getting more (except maybe Wen Qing, because Wen Qing is competent and if nothing else Xue Yang can respect competency).

and he just like. ditches them. walks out! promises to deliver very powerful magical artifact, and then gets what he wants and is like “smell ya later, peace” and they never catch him.

that’s just a kind of gutsiness and casual disregard for very powerful people that I really both love and respect about Xue Yang. and also that he has in common with Xiao Xingchen, tbh. and Song Lan (though him I think to a slightly lesser degree, partly because he has a little more tact and sense of societal norms as something relevant to be thinking about)! they can all vibe on that.

They took Jiangzai. Well. One of the Wen disciples took Jiangzai in the stomach and Xue Yang didn’t get it back.

this isn’t an important line or anything. I just like it a lot.

Wen Chao gestured again and he went down in a hail of fists and feet. Xue Yang tucked his chin down to protect his throat, curled his hands into his chest, and drew up his knees to guard his stomach.

He knew how this worked. Sure, it’d been a while since someone had beat him like this, but the lessons stuck. It was almost boring, really. If Wen Chao was going to play torture games then he could at least do Xue Yang the favor of trying to be creative.

He checked out the part of his brain that registered pain as anything other than a thing that was happening and focused instead on opportunities. Weaknesses in his assailants. Escape routes. Getting away would be the first thing. Nice if he could take a piece of Wen Chao with him on the way out - arm, or maybe even a head - but the priority was freedom and survival.

okay, this I feel like cuts into some of what you were talking about regarding Xue Yang’s fight/flight instinct, and also a lot of what if, I was feeling pretentious, I feel like this fic is digging into on a level under “what if I just tortured Xue Yang a whole bunch,” which is something about the relationship Xue Yang has to (a) pain and (b) his own body. Specifically, the relative indifference he has toward both. Or...not indifference, exactly, because it’s not like he’s enjoying himself, it still hurts. It’s just...expected.

unremarkable.

which is a lot of what I was trying to convey with Xue Yang’s narration during the whole torture sequence, with the commentary on methodology and how things are mundane or boring, because the suffering itself is mundane! as far as Xue Yang is concerned that’s exactly what suffering is! other peoples’, for sure, which is part of why it doesn’t matter, but also his own.

the world hurts and that’s just how it is and you learn how to cope with that. pain as...a thing that [is] happening.

I also, since you mentioned the fight/flight instinct, think a lot about how Xue Yang is, while he’s very proud and very stubborn, absolutely not someone to pick fights (in general) that he knows he can’t win. Xue Yang will almost always be on the side of “run and come back another day” over “stand and fight when all is lost.” survival, first and foremost.

which feeds into the weird paradox that I kind of hint toward at the end of this fic about Xue Yang as someone who has a definite death drive, who is profoundly obsessed with his own death in a lot of ways, and simultaneously is attached to staying alive above pretty much all else.

“Snap and snarl all you want,” he said. “You’re not going anywhere. And the only part of you I need intact is your tongue, so you can tell me where you hid the Yin Metal you promised. Everything else is optional.”

A prickle of fear rolled down Xue Yang’s spine and he flicked it away, baring his teeth.

I actually do think that, even before they get around to hand-specific trauma, permanent mutilation is one of those things that still scares Xue Yang. which is a short list! there isn’t much that actually either gets to or scares him, but I think the prospect of (further) mutilation does, because I think Xue Yang is very...acutely aware of the fact that his physical capability is a major factor in what has kept him alive and what, in all likelihood, is going to keep him alive moving forward. anything that threatens that capability, that limits him in terms of strength or mobility or otherwise has a disabling effect, is consequently going to be a short road to death, and Xue Yang would much rather die painfully fighting than die as a consequence of not being able to take care of himself.

for Xue Yang, the idea of a return to the kind of helplessness that is tied to his trauma is one of the worst possible prospects to contemplate. in my head this is exacerbated further by the fact that I figure Xue Yang didn’t get much if any medical care post hand incident, meaning that the recovery period was absolutely nightmarish and a whole stretch of time beyond the event itself where Xue Yang was struggling to survive because he’d been damaged.

in some ways I think that period of time probably did more to shape Xue Yang than the moment itself.

Wen Chao grabbed one of the branding irons from a disciple’s belt and pressed it to his stomach. That hurt. More. He clamped his back teeth together so he didn’t make any sound, absorbed the burn, owned it. His. You only hurt if you were alive. And anything you survived made you stronger.

Not that this was actually going to make him stronger. It was probably just going to make him dead. But then again, the worse this went the more resentment he’d have built up. He could use that. Would.

Dead didn’t have to mean finished.

obviously this is pulled almost direct from what Wei Wuxian himself says to Wen Chao. deliberate echoes based on character parallels! we love those.

and yeah, again here about Xue Yang and his relationship to pain, but in a less mundane way this time where it’s about pain as a tool, pain as something he can use. which is another thing about coping, I think - when pain and suffering are a regular part of your life, one way to deal with that can be to convert it into having some kind of purpose or benefit.

which in this case it definitely can. Xue Yang is definitely someone who, I think, has thought a lot about trying to arrange it so he becomes a ghost after he dies. or at least has thought a lot about what he’d do after dying to the person who killed him.

and when you’re a necromancer by trade death really isn’t the end of the line anymore, just the start of a something new. Xue Yang’s relationship to life itself: about as jacked up as his relationships in general.

He felt the snap of bone in his teeth. Pain shooting up the side of his hand, all the way to his wrist, and Xue Yang couldn’t keep himself still enough not to try to wrench himself away. He swallowed his scream and turned it into a laugh. It was funny, wasn’t it? Funny, that he was back here, again. It wasn’t as bad, though. He knew how to take pain, how to breathe it in, make it part of himself, later turn it outwards magnified tenfold. They were old friends. Practically lovers.

two things here:

1. the thread throughout this fic of Xue Yang making things funny so he can deal with them, here brought to you by reliving trauma! because it’s funny! right? laugh about it! just fucking hilarious.

I have a thing about characters basically deciding for themselves to make very unfunny situations funny because it makes them less awful.

2. and look, now he can deal with it better this time! he’s Learned. :) :) :)

Everything splintered. Splintered like bones under a wheel, and first thing he tried to struggle to get away but that just hurt worse and then old old old instincts kicked in and he went still, limp, dead.

“Did he faint?”

Someone nudged him with their foot. One part of him roared to grab that foot and rip it off along with the leg it was attached to. Immediately the same thing that’d made him play dead told him to wait.

at an end point where fighting is impossible and running is also impossible, the only thing left to do is play dead and wait it out. this is very much, in my head, a reversion to a tactic Xue Yang hasn’t used in a very long time and does not want to be using now, because it is absolutely the recourse of the extraordinarily helpless with no way out.

which he has been! and is now, but he really really really doesn’t want to be. Xue Yang has built his life around not being that, ever again.

but here it’s not a move he makes planning to turn it around the way he does, not at first. he gets there, but when he first does it I think it is literally just instinct that goes enough is enough and shuts down.

Wen Chao, Wen Chao, Xue Yang thought. My body’s going to give out before I do.

someone should remind me at some point maybe (or not) to write something coherent about my Xue Yang vs. his own body thoughts. specifically the way that, while Xue Yang is very physical and very grounded, I think he has a somewhat antagonistic relationship with his own body, actually. not completely! he definitely respects what it can do for him! but I think he also treats it a little as a slightly separate entity that’s capable of betraying him rather than as a fully integrated part of himself.

not always! but it’s a little bit there. this idea that sometimes his body, and its capacity to be hurt or damaged, is a weakness that he’d like to be able to forgo entirely, if only it wouldn’t mean losing all the good things about having a body. and that’s present here in this line, for me, where he thinks about himself and his body as slightly separate, and his body as something weaker than its Xue Yang core.

#hope that was enough rambling for you anon jesus christ #confessions of a frustrated writer #i don't even know what to tag this #anonymous #conversating

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demigodlunar · 3 years

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Scars - Chapter 4

-- Trigger Warning: Mentions of self-harm and bad parenting. Read at your own risk.

Chapter 4 - End It Cleanly Mclean

Piper flopped onto her immaculately made bed after her morning run with her mother, rumpling up the covers a little bit and enjoying the brief moments of silence before-

“Models do not flop onto their beds, daughter, they sit on the edge daintily.” A saccharine sweet voice lilted from outside Piper’s bedroom.

Piper stifled her groan and got up quietly, remaking her bed and smoothing her hands over the glossy silk sheets. She made sure not to miss a spot, because her mother, the amazing model Aphrodite Mclean, was no doubt watching her every move from the doorway.

“I’m sorry, mother, “ Piper said quietly, looking down at her feet that her mother commented were “too big” to be from a woman, “I won’t do it again.”

She looked up and locked eyes with her mother, the most beautiful, and cruelest, person Piper had ever met. That one thought of rebelliousness died away, and Piper forcefully looked back down respectfully at her feet.

Aphrodite had silky black hair that made its way down her back in ringlets, with only the most expensive products used on her luscious locks. With chocolate brown eyes like those of a feline. She was thin as a toothpick, with a curvy, full body which attracted a lot of men, and sometimes even women. Aphrodite’s skin was fair and spotless, her nails and clothes always complimenting each other and the rest of her. Piper really wished she hadn’t inherited her mother's insane beauty.

Her mother did another once over of Piper’s bedroom, trying to find something to critique. Not finding any flaws, she pursed her lips, flipped her hair over her shoulder and promptly left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Piper let out a breath she didn’t know she was even holding, and it made her plop back down onto her bed and bury her head in her hands.

Why couldn’t I have just gone with Dad?

~~~~~~~~~~

Tristan Mclean met Aphrodite Ouranos at a theatre gathering. He was immediately struck by her beauty and charm, and she seemed to like him just as much. They started going out after a week, and dated for a couple months before getting married.

After they had Piper, Tristan and Aphrodite made it big, Tristan with a high-paying acting career which required him to move around a lot, and Aphrodite with a modeling job. Both of the jobs needed a lot of traveling, but someone needed to stay and take care of Piper, the beautiful baby who inherited her mother’s beauty and her father’s smile and hair.

So while Tristan went on world tours and visited iconic cities and landmarks, Aphrodite would stay at home and take care of Piper. Needless to say, she hated the job, and wanted to dump her daughter in an orphanage to be taken care of by someone else, but then an idea struck her.

If she could raise Piper to be exactly like her, independent and flawless, it would help Aphrodite’s modeling and parenting. She was wrong of course, but she obviously didn’t think that. The result of her carelessness was a five year old running around a large empty estate, eating whatever she wanted and doing whatever she pleased.

There were many, many times when Piper had been left alone for long periods of time, and she did learn to be independent, but vowed to never become like her mother. Once Piper hit her middle school years, Aphrodite realized just how beautiful her daughter was, even more so, than Aphrodite herself. That was a problem.

So she shipped Piper off to a ladies academy for middle schoolers, and when Piper came back the summer before her first year at high school, she was… exactly the same. No manners had been changed, no clothing choice had been improved, nothing.

That’s when Aphrodite took the manner into her own manicured fingers. She critiqued Piper on anything and everything she did, even if it was the slightest misstep or a small snort that escaped her mouth. At the start, Piper rebelled against her, but Aphrodite oppressed her so much that Piper gave in and listened to her mother's every whim, and stayed quiet through every admonishment.

That was what made Piper start cutting.

It was small at first, just a little glance at a knife or razor and wondering how it would feel against her skin. Then, light traces with the sharp blades on her wrist, seeing how light she could go to draw blood. What pushed past her tipping point was when Piper was idly drawing the knife across her arm, not enough to see blood, but enough to feel a small sting, and her mother walked into the bathroom to see what was taking her so long.

She took one cold look at the blade, and the marks on Piper’s arm and left the bathroom. Piper stared after her, but when she came back, it wasn’t with a hug, or words of help to drag Piper out of the world of a depression.

It was a razor. A pink razor with a bejeweled hilt.

Aphrodite held it out to Piper and said only two words: “Use that.”

Since that day, Piper seemed to enjoy when her mother would leave her alone to do her modeling, because Piper had the day to cut herself happy.

~~~~~~~~~~

Now don’t get her wrong. Piper wasn’t suicidal for two reasons. The first was her father and her friends. She tried to resent her father for leaving her alone with her monster of a mother, but he was too kind for her to hate him, and the couple days a year he came and stayed with them were the best. And her friends, well, they were the only people who kept her sane while she was here. Annabeth, Reyna, Thalia, Leo. They were the best friends anybody could ask for, and they supported her whenever she felt sad. They didn’t know about the cutting.

The second was that she was too cowardly to try to take her life. Afraid of hurting her friends. Afraid that it would all be for nothing.

So she didn’t do anything farther than cutting.

Piper realized that thinking about the past and sitting doing nothing but dawdling was really unproductive. She took out her phone and went to check if there were any new messages, and she saw a text from Thalia. So she replied.

(AN: Thalia, Piper)

Today - 11:34 AM

hey Pipes

hey Thals

wassup

Oh nothing, just trying to get away from my tyrannical mother. Normal day.

nothing much, you?

i’m here with my brother at one of my dad’s interview things

Brother?

Piper couldn’t remember Thalia mentioning anything about siblings before. And she did the normal thing and asked Thalia about it.

you have a brother?

It was a long time before Thalia responded, but when she did, Piper snatched up the phone to see her response.

yeah

Piper felt betrayed, she thought they told each other everything. But then again, she had no room to talk.

excuse me, but how come you’ve never told me about him?

never came up

fine, you win, for now. show me a pic?

Thalia sent a picture of a blond-haired boy with the bluest eyes Piper had ever seen. The thing was, she knew this blond-haired boy.

It was Jason Grace, the only person that even came close to Annabeth’s record setting grades. Once he had beaten her by a percent on a English test, and Annabeth was fuming for days, while Piper and the rest of their friends snickered at her back. But Piper never connected the dots, like how he and Thalia had the same last name.

He was also in her math class during Freshman year, and he sat two seats to her right. Piper could remember clearly some moments of that class.

Like when the teacher would ask the class a question, and Jason’s hand would be the only one up so she called on him. He would bite his lower lip and read out the answer in a confident but quiet voice, like he didn’t want anyone to notice him. Then, once Jason got the question right, his posture would straighten, in a proud way. His eyes would light up like a cloudless day sky and his lips would stretch into a smile, making the scar on his upper lip appear more prominently. Jason would push the glasses up the bridge of his nose, and sit back in his chair, satisfied.

One second. Two.

What. Was. That. Piper shook her head and felt her cheeks become hot. She barely knew Jason, yet she had been paying so much more attention to him than she thought she was. Idly, she wondered if his glasses and the tattoo of glasses she had on her shoulder were related in any way.

Suddenly dizzy, she remembered that Thalia was waiting for an answer. With her thoughts off somewhere else, she mindlessly typed a response to Thalia’s question. The good news, it was the truth. The bad news, Thalia would never let her live this down.

After she felt her head clear, she brought her attention back to the conversation and her eyes widened.

oh, that cute boy you sit with at lunch sometimes? He’s really good looking.

“Crap!” Piper yelled, for once not even afraid that her mother will come in and lecture her about the dangers of swearing.

She could just imagine Thalia cackling her witchy laugh wherever she was. Piper started to type in a message to tell Thalia to please, please not tell her brother about that message when a new message popped up at the top.

Piper, honey, I am leaving for my photoshoot now. Please keep the house clean... and no guests. -Mother >:(

Perfect, her mother is gone, now she can go through with that brunch that she planned with her friends. Then she remembered Thalia. Stupid ADHD, hopping from one topic to the other.

It was too late though, because Thalia has already replied.

yes, he is, and he’s also here looking at our conversation.

Piper felt herself blush scarlet red, and she bet anyone could see it, even on her darker complexion. Now she was in for it, she would never be able to face Thalia or Jason ever again. And once Thalia told the rest of their friends…

Piper stood up and started getting ready for the brunch with her friends she planned. Both mentally and physically. Gods, Leo was going to have such a field day when he found out about this.

Well, the routine was only just starting. ____________________________________________________________

This chapter was fun to write haha

-Blossom ;)

#percy jackon and the olympians #soulmates #percabeth #caleo #solangelo #jiper #frazel #heroes of olympus #pjo fanfic #pjo angst #jason grace #thalia grace #piper mclean

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fanfics4all · 4 years

Text

Painless

Request: Yes / No

Requests are closed <3 Have a nice day/night

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3200

Warnings: SCHOOL BOMBING, CURSING, it’s criminal minds so read at your own risk!

Y/N: Your Name

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you!

Masterlist

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

Another day at work. Another day of someone dead. I thought as I walked into the office. I saw everyone was already in the round table room and sighed. Another case. I put my stuff down at my desk and walked into the room. I took my seat next to my boyfriend Spencer and gave a smile at everyone.

“Does anyone remember this picture?” Garcia asked, bringing up a picture of a man and a girl looking distressed.

“Hotch and I were there. That’s Principal Doug Gavens. We had to drag him to safety.” Rossi said, making everyone look at him.

“High school bombing in Boise, right?” Emily asked.

“School shooter and school bomber.” JJ said and it triggered my memory.

“A kid named Randy Slade shot three students and then set off an I.E.D. in the cafeteria via cell phone, killing himself and thirteen kids total, but not before posting all his plans online.” I said and Garcia nodded.

“It was one of those “Where were you?” events. My whole campus was glued to the T.V..” JJ said.

“Last night, Principal Givens was killed by a bomb modeled exactly like the old one.” Garcia said.

“It feels like the unsub wants to attack the man who kept the school together after the bombing. It’s a pretty symbolic target.” Morgan said.

“And this week is the tenth anniversary of the massacre.” Hotch said.

“And today is the first day of a four day event to commemorate the bombing at the school.” Garcia said.

“Except commemorating it isn’t enough for this unsub.” Emily said.

“No. He wants to relive it.” Hotch said. We gathered our things and got on the plane. We were all sitting down and going over the case files.

“Perpetrators of school violence are often sophisticated with their weapons. Randy Slade carried his bomb in his backpack. This guy hid his in Givens’ clock radio.” Spencer said.

“Yeah, and progressive. Each one tries to top the body count of the one previous.”

“And they’re loners by default, not by choice. They try to join various social groups, but they get shut out.” JJ said.

“Randy Slade wasn’t a loner at all.” Hotch said.

“The family cooperated fully with us. He was a high-functioning psychopath, straight-A student, varsity wrestler, lots of girlfriends.” Rossi said.

“With an above-average intelligence that made him incredibly resourceful. His explosive of choice was Semtex.” I said looking at the files.

“It’s found at demolition sites, but it’s held under lock and key.” Spencer said.

“Which made us consider the possibility of a partner. Never found one.” Rossi said.

“Slade was too much of a narcissist to share credit. But he was also an impulsive teen, which is what bothers me about this unsub.” Hotch said.

“His sense of control?” Emily asked.

“And the end game that he’s working toward.” Hotch answered with a nod.

“Slade’s pathology revolved around the big kill. This unsub could have done the same if he’d waited for the candlelight vigil.” Hotch added.

“Which means there’s no blaze of glory fantasy here. This unsub has more bombs made, and he’s savoring the anticipation of his next attack.” Rossi said. After we talked everyone moved to their own spots to think and relax before we had the hard work to do. I sat next to Spencer and smiled at him.

“This poor town.” I said and he sighed.

“I know, but the odds are against them in this situation.” He said and I nodded.

“I know, but that doesn’t mean it sucks any less.” I said and he nodded.

“It’s a hard thing to deal with.” He said.

“Yeah…” I sighed. We tried to keep our minds on things that would help us, instead of how much people were hurting right now.

As soon as we landed we dropped our stuff off at our hotel then split up. Hotch and Rossi went to the station with Emily and Morgan. Spencer, JJ and I went to the crime scene. We walked inside and it was a mess, not shocking though considering what happened.

“Okay, so the unsub has to be tied to the school somehow, right?” JJ asked.

“Current student, alumni, family member who lost someone…” I listed off.

“It could be Slade groupies celebrating his hero. He taped nails to the exterior of the bomb, specifically to rip open flesh. That’s a sadistic detail of Slade’s the unsub copied.” Spencer said.

“Except he tricked Givens into blowing himself up. A groupie probably wouldn’t show that much self-control.” JJ said.

“But someone with an ax to grind against the principal would. Maybe he’s a surrogate for the tomenters in high school he can’t punish.” Spencer said.

“Who were yours?” He asked us.

“I don’t even remember.” JJ answered.

“You don’t even remember? Wait, were you one of those mean girls?” Spencer questioned.

“No.” JJ said.

“Valedictorian, soccer scholarship, corn-fed, but still a size zero. I think that you might have been a mean girl.” Spencer said.

“Spence.” I said.

“I was actually one of the nice girls, even to guys like you.” JJ answered and I shook my head. There was no stopping this now.

“Guys like me? I’ll have you know that my social standing increased once I started winning at basketball.” Spencer said, I always forget that he coached basketball.

“Oh yeah? You played basketball?” JJ asked.

“Actually he coached it.” I answered.

“You coached it?” She asked.

“Yeah, I broke down the opposing team’s shooting strategy.” He said.

“Is that why Morgan kicked you two out of the pool last week?” She asked.

“Yeah, it took him three rounds to realize we were hustling him.” I answered with a laugh.

“Huh.” She said and we went back to looking at the crime scene. As soon as we were done looking we got a call about another murder. So we made our way there. The three of us looked around and JJ decided to call Hotch and tell him.

“You’re on speaker JJ.” Hotch answered.

“So, we might have another one.” She said.

“Might?” He asked.

“One of the North Valley alumni was killed in her motel room.” She answered.

“No bomb or gun this time. Looks like he used his bare hands.” I added.

“You got a name?” Hotch asked.

“Chelsea Grant.” Spencer answered.

The next day Spencer and I returned to the crime scene with Hotch. It was good to come back and look at it with fresh eyes.

“The unsub crushed Chelsea’s throat so she couldn’t scream, then he pulverized her ribs, sending fragments of bone into her heart.” Spencer said.

“Principal Givens was high-profile. Chelsea wasn’t. Right now the only thing connecting them is they’re both on the kill list.” Hotch said.

“A list that Brandon kept secret for ten years, but he was in custody when this happened. So the question is, how did the unsub get the exact same list?” I asked.

“Well, we ruled out a partner, but not conclusively.” Hotch said.

“Slade made every part of his plan public. It doesn’t make sense that he would hide a partner.” Spencer said.

“He didn’t want to share the credit. And this weekend is the partner’s best chance to claim it.” Hotch said.

“Let’s go back to the station, we have a profile to deliver.” He said and we followed him.

When we got back to the station we gathered everyone up and we were ready to deliver the profile.

“Partners of dominant psychopaths are usually submissive, but that doesn’t mean that they can’t be intelligent or that they’re physically weak.” Hotch said.

“This unsub laid low after the bombing and successfully evaded police and FBI. That took cunning and patience, which he’s exhibiting now with his current murders.” Morgan said.

“We think he fits the loner profile Slade debunked. He grew up in an abusive home, which kept him from forming the normal social bonds in high school.” JJ said.

“We interviewed all the outcasts from back then. How did this guy slip through?” Chief Cole asked.

“Even outcasts eventually form friendships. But this unsub was the outcast the outcasts rejected.” Spencer said.

“Exactly, he won’t stand out in any capacity, and as a matter of fact, most of his fellow students probably won’t even remember graduating with him.” I said.

“And that invisibility is what made him attractive to Slade. This partner wouldn’t steal the spotlight.” Rossi said.

“Slade targeted the cafeteria because most of the names on his list ate there together during fifth period.” Spencer said.

“So his hatred festered when the names on the list emerged from the cafeteria as media heroes. And now he wants to finish the job that Randy started.” Morgan said.

“Emotionally, this weekend is more a high school reunion to him than a memorial. We go to reunions to show who we grew up to be. Often that means changing everything about who we were.” Rossi said.

“Consciously or not, Randy Slade revealed clues as to his partner’s identity when he detonated his bomb. Agent Prentiss will be conducting cognitive interviews to see what the survivors might remember.” Hotch said. We answered a few questions the cops had then went on to try and work out who this guy could be. Emily was with the survivors now working on them.

“So, as you can see from your board there, this kill list is weirdly similar to high school.

“Group on is like the popular kids, prom court, football team, dean’s list. The Heathers, if you will.” Garcia said.

“Kids in Slade’s social circle.” Hotch said.

“What about number two?” JJ asked.

“Uh, mmhmm, that would be the kids from the other side of the tracks, 180-degree difference, kids this close to getting kicked out, Stoners, burnouts, mental cases. Chelsea Grant is on this list.” Garcia said.

“Maybe Slade targeted them because they disgusted him?” JJ asked while Spencer’s phone was ringing. We have been doing a lot of that since we got here.

“But they didn’t threaten Slade’s sense of superiority. He wouldn’t have even cared about them.” Hotch said as we ignored Spencer’s phone.

“So maybe the partner put them on the list. They’d be closer to his social status than Slade’s.” I said as Spencer’s phone stopped ringing.

“Why would the-” Spencer was cut off by his phone ringing again.

“I’m so sorry.” He said, taking his phone out and hung up.

“Why would the unsub list kids that he fit in with?” Spencer asked, putting his phone away again.

“Apparently that’s how this clique worked. The kids in it were meaner to each other than kids on the outside. Garcia, separate out all the kids who got into trouble regularly. Then eliminate the names that the partner put on the list. Now, who’s left that came to the memorial?” Hotch asked.

“Right. Whoever made the list wouldn’t put their name on it. Uh… sir, I think- I think I’ve got him. His name is Lewis Ramsey.” Garcia said.

“Where is he?” Hotch asked.

“Uhh… According to his cell phone he’s at a local bar.” She answered.

“Send it to Morgan’s phone.” Hotch ordered and called him. Morgan brought him in and him and Hotch started interviewing him. Once they were done they told the rest of us.

“You buy it?” Emily asked.

“He fits the profile, and the evidence points to him, but he seems sincere.” Hotch said.

“He’s not the unsub. He was the partner, but look at how Slade added “All the losers in this Godforsaken school.” This capitalization isn’t an accident. Look.” Spencer said and wrote it on the white board.

“L-S-R, Lewis Stuart Ramsey.” He said.

“So Slade named his own partner.” I said.

“Ironically, Lewis’ marijuana addiction saved his life.” He said with a nod.

“Well, that puts us back to our original problem. If the unsub isn’t the partner, how did he get his hands on a list that Slade and Lewis kept to themselves?” I asked.

“The only answer is that part of the profile is wrong. The unsub’s vendetta has nothing to do with the list. Did you get anything from Jerry Holtz?” Hotch asked Emily.

“Only that he mixed up the cell phones that Slade used. It felt like he was making the story up, but I only had a hunch.” Emily said.

“We need to find him now. There’s a connection to the victimology that we’re missing. Whatever he’s holding back might be the key.” Hotch said. We found Jerry, but he was dead. He was killed at the school. We made our way there and Emily met us there.

“Jerry Holtz? How long?” She asked.

“Less than an hour. Security guard heard the commotion, but the unsub was already gone.” JJ answered.

“The only people who knew we were doing the cognitive interviews were the other survivors. The unsub must be part of that group.” Emily said.

“Well, we don’t know that for a fact. He could have been lying in wait.” I said.

“Look, Hotch wants me to go through the victims’ lives and find the overlaps. We can compare their histories with the unsub’s.” JJ said.

“What else do we have to go on?” Emily asked, looking at Spencer and I.

“Spence said the unsub would have broken his hand beating Chelsea to death. Did you notice anyone with a cast on their hand, someone who seemed hurt?” JJ asked.

“No.” Emily shook her head.

“I might know why.” Spencer said and we all looked at him.

“This unsub doesn’t feel pain.” He said.

“You mean he has pain asymbolia?” I asked and he nodded.

“We need to get back to the station. Spencer told them about his theorie and no one understood what he was saying.

“In english for the other people in the room.” Morgan asked.

“There’s a medical condition called pain asymbolia, where patients register harmful stimuli without being bothered by it. They’ve been documented holding their hand over an open flame because their brain doesn’t send pain signals to the central nervous system.” Spencer explained.

“Sounds pretty rare. You sure the unsub has it?” Rossi asked.

“The crime scenes prove it. Once Spencer said it, everything clicked. He displayed an unusual level of savagery towards his victims. And consider this, he smashed through a glass display case, but there were no cuts on Jerry. That means he most likely punched through it as a show of force.” I said.

“Now, the only way the human body could withstand that level of pain is if he couldn’t feel it at all.” Spencer added.

“It must take a major toll on someone’s emotional development.” Rossi said and Spencer’s phone rang… again.

“A significant contributor to our sense of empathy is the way we personally experience pain.” Morgan said and Spencer silenced his phone again.

“And the unsub didn’t develop his sense of empathy because it was cut off. Does every person with Asymbolia have this?” Hotch asked.

“Actually, most feel empathy just fine, which makes me think the rest of our profile is still accurate. Loner, invisible, outcast, boiling rage- Son of a bitch!” Spencer said, pulling out his ringing cell phone and answered it. I notice Morgan trying to hide a smirk.

“Hi! This is Dr. Spencer Reid. I actually can come to the phone right now with a very special message that your mother is-”

“Reid.” Hotch cut him off and he hung up.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I don’t know what got into me. Where were we?” He asked, putting his phone away.

“I’m going to have Garcia check medical records. Uh, what causes Asymbolia?” Hotch asked.

“Ssss- Severe trauma produces lesions on the insular cortex, usually after a stroke but this unsub’s so young, it’s most likely caused by an external factor.” Spencer said looking at Morgan the whole time.

“Like a bomb going off next to him?” Rossi asked.

“Yeah, like a bomb going off next to him.” He repeated at Morgan. Morgan just smirked and Hotch walked off to talk to Garcia.

“I will crush you.” Spencer whispered.

“What?” Morgan asked.

“What?” Spencer repeated and walked off. I looked at Rossi and shook my head with a smirk.

“You two are seriously pranking each other while on a case?” I asked and Morgan just smiled.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said and I shook my head again. I swear these two…

JJ and Emily came by a little later with some new information. JJ was rearranging some pictures on the board. We looked on with confusion.

“Recognize the top ten?” JJ asked.

“No.” Hotch answered.

“They were the students that went in front of the cameras after the bombing.” She answered.

“I thought all the surviving students were interviewed?” I asked.

“After the initial aftermath, yes, but these are the kids that went on talk shows, traveled to other schools. My guess is that they didn’t self-select who made the cut.” JJ said.

“Principal Givens did.” Hotch said.

“That’s why the unsub killed him first. He was an outcast who wanted to fit in. Being a survivor should have been his golden ticket.” She said.

“But he was excluded again, and that’s why he’s killing them.” I said.

“Yeah. The rules of high school never changed, not even after a tragedy.” JJ said. Hotch’s phone rang and he put it on speaker.

“Go ahead, Garcia.” He said.

“Hey, listen up. I crossed-referenced student files with medical records. Now, there were six kids that were knocked unconscious in that blast, but only one fit the outcast profile. His name is Robert Adams, and he just used his credit card at a local restaurant, the address of which I just sent you right now.” She said.

“I’m on my way.” Hotch said looking at us. Hotch gathered everyone up and JJ and I stayed back. When they came back Robert wasn’t with them. Hotch had to shoot him, there was no other way this was going to end. Once we got everything sorted we got on the plane to go home. I was sitting next to Spencer, who was resting his head on my shoulder while I read a book. We were sitting across from Morgan and Emily, Morgan was listening to music and Emily was reading a paper. He took his headphones off and we heard Spencer screaming from them.

“Okay, kid, that was cute. But that’s all you got?” Morgan asked him, he was very clearly pretending to be asleep. Morgan’s cell ran and he answered it.

“Hey baby girl-” He was cut off by Spencer screaming coming through his phone. Spencer had a smile on his face and Rossi held up a white napkin.

“Uh-uh. Alright, Reid, it’s on. Just know that paybacks are a bitch.” Morgan said. Spencer just responded with snoring. I shook my head at the two of them.

“You started this Morgan, it’s your own fault.” I said with a slight laugh.

“Of course you’re taking his side, Y/N.” He rolled his eyes.

“Well I am dating him, so yes I’m taking his side.” I said and Rossi chuckled.

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madneywhre · 4 years

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The Misfits

Hi! So I am currently writing a highschool AU called The Misfits. It is about the BAU as teenagers. Going through four of the roughest years of their lives. Highschool sucks for everyone, especially when you go through it alone. Rolling with the punches of life and high school, these students find solace in each other. Anyways! It continues after the break

CW! Mentions of mental abuse, emotional neglect, physical abuse, suicide, and homophobic slurs.

---

Spencer woke up early… way too early, but he was excited. This was his first day of highschool. Sure, he was at least five years younger than everyone in his grade, but he was ready. His mother on the other hand was not. She hadn’t moved out of her room in three days. He walked into the room and went over to her bed.

“Good Morning Mama, I start high school today.” He says seeing that she was awake and reading. She looked at him and back at her book without saying a word, he realized that she was too far gone to respond right now. He walked out of the room sadly, going to the kitchen to look for food of some sort. He had become used to doing things by himself, adapting to the new changes. His dad had left six months earlier, which only worsened his mother's downward spiral. Spencer wanted his mom to get him ready for his first day: to cook him breakfast, pack his lunch, maybe even do the cheesy pictures that other moms did. But not Diana. No. Never Diana. Electronics were evil, from the government. His dad had bought him a phone and paid the bill; the only thing he did. Not that he ever answered Spencer's attempts to reach out but it was nice to have though, just in case.

After standing on plenty of stools, Spencer decided on poptarts. He popped the strawberry pastries in the toaster and shifted his weight from foot to foot, thinking as he waited for the poptarts to become warm and toasty. His mind wandered to a time two years ago, his first day of middle school. His mom was still lucid then, she had made him breakfast and read to him. He was only seven then,he was nine now; always was smart for his age. It wasn’t easy to be the youngest in the grade. He got jostled around a lot and took a lot of elbows to the nose, but he was used to it. He was also used to the looks he got when he did the advanced work in class,the looks of doubt. He hated them. His attention popped back to the pastries when they sprung up in the toaster. He jumped before realizing what had just happened. He pulled them out and hissed at the heat, dropping them onto a paper towel. He sat and ate, allowing his mind to wander again. Remembering his mom before she went down hill. Before he was forced into being his own parent, he was already expected to be an adult.He just wanted to be cared for, like most kids did,he was only nine after all. Sure, he was in highschool, but he was still little. He still wanted the crutch of his mom and dad. He wanted to be held. When he went into his mom’s room earlier, he had hoped for her to scoop him up and give him a kiss on the forehead, and read some poetry to him. Or even just talk to him. Just be a human, and she would, in time…

After he finished eating, he had to rush to get dressed. Trying his best not to think about the fact that he had to walk the five and a half miles to school. He was too young to sign himself up for the school bus, obviously too young to drive, and on top of that he didn’t have anyone to carpool with. He rushed into his room and pulled on a pair of corduroy slacks, his old striped comfort sweater, and his tennis shoes. The only reason he wore a sweater was because it helped calm him down when he was having sensory issues, though he was always cold. Probably from the lack of vitamins in his diet. He rushed to pack his lunch, not able to find his old lunch bag, so he used a grocery sack. He remembered when his dad would pack his lunch and he lost some composure. Small tears stinging at the corners of his eye, a lump rising in his throat, the building pressure behind his nose. He pushed it all down, while making a sloppy PB and J and throwing a sleeve of Saltines into the sack. He called it a day and got his bag, shoving his lunch in the torn backpack. He walked out of the door and started the trek to school, getting to watch the sunrise. The purples made a small smile peak at his cheeks, the pinks mixing with the oranges made his chest feel warm. His hands flapped happily and he walked with a small bounce in his step. Sweat already starting to bead at his forehead.

It took him an hour and a half, but he got to the school in enough time to get his schedule. He knew that he was assigned a guide for the first day, just to help him around the school because he was so young. Spencer walked into the main office, and didn’t even clear the top of the counter, his messy curls peeking up from behind it.

“Um, excuse me. I need to get my schedule.” He said in a squeaky voice.

“Okay honey, just come right around here.” The nice secretary lady said. Her name plate read Alex Blake.

The small boy walked around to her side of the counter and smiled at her. “I’m Spencer Reid. R-E-I-D.” He said confidently, trying to show that he belonged here.

“Oh the youngin. Okay honey, your freshman guide is Aaron Hotchner. He is a Junior. You guys surprisingly have a similar schedule, so stick with him. Let me know if you need anything.” She said, pointing him over to a tall ravenette man.

He walked over, and in a small voice approached him. “Hi, I’m Spencer, your freshman. I need my schedule, please.” He said with a squeak, his voice rising in pitch because he was nervous.

“Hey Spencer, um… Here is your schedule, we actually have a first period and lunch together. So just stick with me for a bit and we can head off to our first class. Which just so happens to be Algebra II.” He said without looking at the kid. He handed him his schedule and held back a gasp. “How old are you?” He asked in a hushed voice.

Spencer wasn’t surprised this was one of the first questions. He had become used to this. “I’m nine… I know I’m little, but I am advanced. I have a high IQ and tested when I was seven, being placed into seventh grade. Now I’m nine in the ninth.” He liked how that had worked. So far, this hadn’t sucked.

…

Jennifer had woken up hours earlier, going on a run before school. She did her best to stay in shape during her off season, still allowing herself to indulge in normal teenage things from time to time. WIthin the three hours she had been awake, the young woman had already worked out and showered, standing in front of her mirror, looking at the shell of the person she once was. Tired, dark bags fell under her eyes, her face puffy from the long nights spent crying herself to sleep. Her sister had died seven months ago. Her sister's room had been left untouched, besides the clothes that she had taken from her closet. She would sleep in her sister's hoodie, only to put it back the next day so it wouldn’t lose her smell. Her death hit her harder than she let on. She had slowly started to become numb inside, forcing a smile only around her parents and friends. Everytime she passed her sister's bedroom a small piece of her heart would break again.

Today was supposed to be the day her older sister started Senior year. They were going to be in school together for one year. Their year. Jennifer shook her head at the thought. Refusing to let tears fall from her eyes once more. She felt so broken and weak, though everyone told her it was normal. It would probably be easier if everywhere she turned Rosalyn wasn’t staring back at her. Her door being open, a crack, her shampoo bottle, the untouched toothbrush. Everywhere Jennifer looked she saw her dead sister. She refused to shower in the bathtub after finding her sister in it. She tried… once. It ended with her shaking and crying in the tub, her mom having to turn off the water and pick her up. Since then she barely walked into that bathroom. She blinked, being brought back to reality. She puts on a burnt red dress with paisley print on it, paired with simple white shoes. She brushed through her hair, and tied it up, a ribbon lacing around the ponytail. She had opted for a softer sense of style. Mainly to portray the happiness she longed to feel.

She soon walked downstairs, greeted by her mother. Her father was already at work, having seemed burying himself in it since the death. Her mom was the American Dream of a mother: supportive, stay at home mom that cooks breakfast and dinner. She loved her mom, though she wished she saw her break down just once. Not just act like everything was okay.

“Good morning sunshine, how did you sleep?” Sandy asked cheerfully.

Jennifer looked at her and put on the fake smile that had an all too comfortable home on her face. “Good morning, Mom. I slept well. What’s for breakfast?” She asked in a happy voice.

“French toast, eggs, sausage, fruit, and orange juice.” She answered, setting a plate of food in front of her. Sandy was sweet, really. And Jennifer appreciated her so much for the things she did.

Jennifer's eyes lit up when the food was sat in front of her. She took a sip of her orange juice and smiled at her mom. “Thank you Mama. It looks really good.”

Sandy smiled softly, living to see the smile of her daughter. It broke her when Rosalyn killed herself. She never let Jennifer see how it hurt her. She had to be strong for her daughter, keep her afloat too. She would cry when Jennifer wasn’t around. Sitting on the rug of her eldest’s floor, her smell enveloping her as she sobbed into it. Blaming herself for not seeing the warning signs of her daughter's depression. The withdrawal, the sudden “I love you’s’, soon to be followed by long hugs.

Both ladies had happy, light conversations until it was time to leave for school. The time Jennifer was dreading. Sandy drove her happily, happy to see her daughter entering such a crucial time in her life. Reminding her not to forget that she had volleyball practice after school. After multiple rounds of I love yous and goodbyes, Jennifer walked into the school. She walked to the Secretary and was assigned her Freshman Guide. Emily Prentiss. Jennifer shrugged it off until she saw the other female. The blonde had known that she liked girls, coming to terms with it over the summer, though you couldn’t tell by looking at her. Emily was gorgeous. She had a totally opposite look of the younger woman. Tall, pale, dark haired beauty. Jennifer felt heat rush to her cheeks. ‘Keep it together Jareau!’ She thought to herself.

“So you’re the freshie I have. Good to know. I’m Emily.” She said with a nod.

“I’m Jennifer,” she said with a squeak in her voice that she swallowed.

“I’m gonna call you JJ. Fits you better. Here’s your schedule. Try to keep up.” She says handing her it and walking off.

JJ. She liked it. She made a mental note of it. From this day forward she was JJ.

…

Penelope has already been up for hours. Grooming herself to look perfect for the first day. She wanted to make sure everyone knew who Penelope Garcia was,though she wished her last name fit her better. During roll call she always had to explain that she was, in fact, Penelope Garcia. She had buried her feelings with her parents. Six feet under. After her parents died, she moved to Virginia and moved in with her mom’s best friend, of whom she thought of, and called her aunt. This was the first year she wanted to be back in school,the previous year she opted to do homeschooling. She didn’t want to be around anyone, but she decided that this year would be different. She would push herself to be happy. She was going to force herself into her old happy persona. Maybe it would start to feel real to her again. Though the issue wasn’t that she was sad, it was that she wouldn’t allow herself to be. She felt the need to be happy all the time. Show everyone how strong she is. That was except for one person, Derek Morgan. He was the next door neighbor's son. Her aunt had set her up to hang out with him because they had one thing in common: a dead parent. They had hit it off. He would come over and just talk to her some days when she was having a bad day, sitting out in a tree that she thought was secluded, until Derek came up. She was crying and he let her cry on his shoulder. He told her that it would all feel better soon. That it would take time. And from that moment forward, they were best friends. Soon morphing into more. This summer they had made it official.

Penelope smelled the familiar smell of chocolate chip pancakes through the air and followed it downstairs. Greeting her aunt with a bubbly smile. “Good morning Alyssa! It smells amazing!” She complemented. They both sat and ate, light conversation flowing between them. She received the text that Derek was ready, finally home and showered from his football practice.

“Goodbye Alyssa. Derek is gonna drive me to school today. Love you!” She called out from the doorway. Her black skirt ruffling up in the breeze.

“Have a good day Pen!” She called back, the screen door slamming in response.

Penelope walked over to Derek’s house, knocking on the door. He greets her with a toothy smile. “Good morning baby girl” He says, wrapping one arm around her shoulder as he walked out to his car with her. They had been dating for about four months, though they had been pining for at least eight months.

“Good morning handsome. Are you ready for sophomore year?” She asked, smiling at the male. He always held her hand while they drove. He could drive early because he had a birthday that fell early in the year.

“Of course I am, are you? I know how hard this is. Especially since you’re new.”

“I’m ready. I’m just gonna take this year by the horns, no one knows me, no one knows what happened. No one knows my past. All they know is I’m the new girl. That's all they need to know.” She says matter of factly.

Derek looked over at her and smiled. “Okay, but remember. I understand, and I am always here. No matter what, no matter how bad you think it is. I’m in your corner.”

Penelope blushed softly, “Thank you… I know.”

After ten minutes they pull up to the school. Penelope took a deep breath and swallowed. Smoothing out her pink top. She looked cute, really. Pink top, black skirt, white shoes. Though, her and Derek looked out of place together.

She looks over at him and smiles, pecking him on the cheek. “Lets go kick ass.”

Derek let out a nice hearty laugh and rolled his eyes, “Lets go kick ass.”

They walked into the school, hand in hand, smiles on both of their faces, like nothing could ruin their happy high,

…

Five a.m always came too early in Derek’s opinion. Groaning as he rolled out of bed, he threw on his practice uniform and grabbed his equipment bag, heading to the field. When he arrived, he ran his five laps around the field and then drank water, heading out to practice. Three long hours later he was dripping sweat, putting away his cleats.

One of his teammates comes over to him, “Yo Morgan, you coming out to breakfast with the team? We’re going to IHop before school. It’s a tradition.”

“Nah man, I’m good. Thank you though.” Derek said, not wanting to give an explanation to why.

“Come one man! It’s tradition! It's your first year on varsity, just give me a good reason why, and I will leave you alone. Just one good, legitimate reason why.”

“I’m… I’m picking up my girl okay? It’s her first day here, and I promised her I would pick her up and drive her. Chill?”

“Show me a picture of ‘your girl’ and I’ll leave it be. Lady Man Morgan.” He teased, pushing his shoulder.

Derek pulled out his phone and showed him his lockscreen, him and Penelope together, Her head resting on his chest. There was a significant height difference between the pair. “That's my girl. Her name is Penelope, but I call her Pen.” He boasts, until he hears a scoff and a chuckle. Who did this kid think he was?

“Oh, THAT’S your girl. Dude just skip her. She ain’t cute anyways.”

Derek felt a small bubble of anger rise in his chest, “Watch what you say, that’s my girl. You right, she ain’t cute, she is beautiful. I can’t see what would make you think otherwise McClellan.” He replied through gritted teeth.

“Come on… It’s obvious isn’t it? The ELEPHANT in the room… Well picture I guess.” He added snarkily. Of course he was talking about her weight, most people did. It always pissed Derek off in public, when people would see them at dinner and stare at her. Making comments about her or what she was eating.

Derek glared at him, “Oh… so you’re that type of asshole. Okay, well be sure to never invite me anywhere with you again. I would much rather hang out with my girlfriend. She is gorgeous, funny, kind, smart, and stronger than you would ever be.” He spat, turning away and texting her. ‘Good morning, gorgeous. I hope you slept well, I just got out of practice. Will be ready to go at 9:00’

She responded almost immediately, like normal. ‘Good morning babe :), I slept amazing, I’ll meet you at your front door.’

Derek smiled and put his phone away, driving home. Greeted by his two older sisters in the kitchen, Desiree and Sarah. They basically raised him. His mom was always busy working as a nurse at the hospital, and his dad died in Chicago when he was ten. It was still hard, even after six years. Big dates always reminds him of the lack of a father. The first day was no different. His fifth grade year was his last first day with his dad. His dad would always make chocolate chip waffles and give him a pep talk. Tell him to be good, make sure he was always kind, and then kiss his forehead, and ruffle his hair. He missed it every year.

Desiree tried to keep the tradition of chocolate chip waffles alive, trying to keep their dad alive with the memories. “Der! I made waffles for you, for after you shower. Please shower first. You smell like sweaty boy and feet.” She called from the kitchen, not even seeing him yet.

Derek just laughs in response and goes upstairs getting ready for the day. He looks in the mirror and closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “Dad, I promise this year I am going to do my best in school, I’m going to stay out of trouble, and I’m always going to be kind. I gotta girlfriend this year. You would love her pops. She’s feisty, she’s so smart and kind. Her folks are gone too. Maybe you know them… maybe not. I don’t know how it works, but I gotta go pops. I love you.” He said into the mirror. Sometimes he would talk to the picture of his dad that he hung on his mirror, looking himself in the eyes. He found it helped on the hard days.

He walked downstairs and smiled when he smelled the waffles, “You guys are the best!” He commented through a mouthful of hot waffle. Light banter flows between the siblings, followed by hugs. Derek leaves when Penelope walks over to his house, hearing her humming something before she even knocks at the door. He smiles widely at her, she looked pretty today. He always had thought she was pretty, even when they had first met. “Good morning, baby girl!” He greeted, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close so he could secretly get a smell of her perfume. She always smelled sweet, like vanilla, or cake.

The two drove to school, Derek holding her hand the entire time. They hadn’t kissed or anything yet. Just hand holding, they had cuddled while watching movies, but they both didn’t want to hurt the other. Derek knew she wasn’t in the best state, so he was always her best friend first, boyfriend came second.

He looks over at her and smiles when she says, “Let’s kick ass.” “Let’s kick ass.”

…

Emily woke up bright and early, dealing with her mother. Of course, today of all days she had to be home. She woke up to her light being flipped on, “Emily! Get out of bed, it is six in the morning. You have school today!” Her mother said, her voice raised.

“Mother. It’s six. School starts at NINE FIFTEEN.” She said, her pillow now over her eyes, “Leave me alone.” She groans

“Emily Elizabeth Prentiss, you have two minutes to get out of bed before I pour water on you. Now. And look presentable.” She commands, the door slamming shut with her exit.

Emily groaned and got out of her bed, her dark messy curls falling over her eyes. She lets out an annoyed huff and throws her hair into a messy ponytail and walks to the bathroom. She washes her face and then goes into her room, pulling out an outfit. Fishnet tights, ripped jeans, cuffed of course, a black and white striped long sleeved shirt, and a band tee over it. She slipped on her Doc’s and an assortment of chains. Her mom always hated how she looked, how she dressed. It started out as a way to piss her mom off, show her that she isn’t some political figure. She never would be. She sat down at her vanity to do her makeup, she favored dark colors, purples and blacks mainly. She smiled as she winged her eyeliner, it came out perfectly. The raven headed girl decided to go downstairs, drink some coffee. Maybe it would make her feel better.

When she got downstairs her mother audibly gasped, “Emily! You look like the grim reaper's wife!”

Emily looked at her and rolled her eyes, walking over to the cabinet and getting the items to make her coffee, pouring the cream into the bottom of a tumbler filled with ice, pouring the hot coffee over it. “As long as SHE is pretty, I’ll take it,” She mouthed, knowing her mother hated her sexuality. She often told her it was a phase, just a rebellion.

Elizabeth dropped the spoon she was using to eat her oats, “Emily, you and I both know that you’re just rebelling. Don’t talk that homosexual talk in this household. It’s dirty and imperfect. We’re Prentiss’ we don’t do those things.”

The teen looked at her and scoffed, her heart dropping. She took it, always did, always would. Though she would never show her mother the pain she caused; she would never let her win. The second that Emily showed any trace of hurt, she would win. Emily translated that to her normal social life. Always making herself look like a hardass, scaring everyone around her. She couldn’t let herself be vulnerable, or else her mother would use it, and treat it like a weakness. Emily was always a pawn in her mother's political games. She knew it.

Emily had let the stress get to her, taking the coffee upstairs, she dug in her bedside drawer to grab her old friend. She would smoke weed whenever she needed to relax, whenever her life seemed like too much. She was high most of the time. She normally used a dab pen, though sometimes she would use a (joint/blunt). She never used bongs, she held herself higher than that. She put the pen to her mouth and inhaled. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Hold…. Inhale. Exhale. She repeated this process a couple of times, feeling the buzz of more vapor in her lungs than air, knowing that's her sign to stop. She could longboard to school now. Forget about the rest of her problems momentarily. Though, it was less than ideal to do in her boots.

She goes downstairs, and thankfully her mother is gone. She said her goodbyes to her nanny, Amanda, and walked out the front door with her long board in one hand, her backpack on, and her music blaring in her ears. She would listen to a mix of most everything. Sometimes it was screamo, sometimes it was soft pop. Today it was her love playlist. She liked to imagine herself riding alongside a pretty girl, holding her hand as they skated together. She pushed the two miles to school, arriving early anyways. She makes a beeline for the secretary. She had become close to her the previous school year after Blake found her crying in the bathroom because of her mother. The vile names she had spit at her. Ever since then she had become a confidant.

“Blake! You will not believe what happened. Ugh! It was so fucking, sorry, freaking stupid!” She huffed, pulling a chair besides her desk.

“Well, good morning to you too Emily. What happened?” She asked, holding back a laugh

“Well for starters, my mother was home. That in and of itself is horrible. Then she wakes me up at six this morning, demanding I get up and dressed. So I did. But THAT wasn’t good enough for her either, now was it?” She spat angrily, her hands tapping on her leg that was bouncing up and down, anxiety still very obviously present.

“Oh… wow. She said something about your clothes didn’t she?”

“OF COURSE she did. Because GOD FORBID her precious little perfect angel. She said something about me looking like the Grim Reaper’s wife. So I said as long as SHE is pretty, I don’t care. That thoroughly pissed her off. It’s like she just doesn’t care. I’m not her perfect little girl, and she can’t use me, so she decides that I’m just not good enough. All A’s and on honor roll, not to mention the advanced classes. But THAT'S not good enough.” She ranted, the older woman listening, nodding her head and adding small affirmatives.

“I’m sorry that she is like that. I think that your outfit is quite cool, and she has no reason to get mad at you over that. It is your sexuality, and you can’t control who you like. I wish I could help you, but from what I’ve heard, she isn’t around much, and your nanny is pretty accepting.”

Emily nodded, taking a ragged breath, “You’re right… I better shut up, there is a freshman” Emily says, seeing a blonde girl walk in. She looked like that Junior that committed suicide. Shit. That was her sister. She was gorgeous, unique looking. She was soft. Her hair framing her angular face perfectly. She was just beautiful. Emily honestly forgot to breathe for a moment, letting her face turn a rosy color before realizing what she was doing. She shook her head and got up, walking behind the desk, over to distract herself.

It took about ten minutes, but Alex came over to Emily, presenting her with the freshman. Her mind started to race, the pretty girl standing in front of her, leaving her speechless. She soon heard that her name was Jennifer. JJ… It fit. It was soft enough to be spoken with the utmost love, but also to be called carelessly. She made it known too.

“I’m gonna call you JJ, it fits you better. Here’s your schedule, try to keep up.” She spoke back, trying so hard not to turn into a pile of mush in front of her. She turned on her heels and walked fastly in the other direction, making sure no one could see the radiant smile painted on her face.

…

Aaron woke up at 5:30, making sure he had enough time to get breakfast ready for his mother and his little brother. He had always made sure to step up, wanting to make the house a more peaceful place. His dad had begun taking his rough days and frustrations out on Aaron, soon becoming more than just yelling. The young boy made sure to keep his brother and mother safe, taking the brunt of the abuse. His father died when he was fourteen, and he had a wave of relief crash over him. He knew that he didn’t have to take the abuse any longer, he didn’t have to wait until his father went to sleep to do things because he was afraid of getting thrown against the wall. He didn’t have to step in between his mother and his father, letting the punches land on his body. The first time his father ever hit Sean was the day Aaron knew he wasn’t able to be a kid. He grew up extremely fast, acting and talking like an adult from the age of eight. He had never learned how to be a kid. He never knew how to play with other kids. And that would come to affect him. He was always seen as the hardass, from the clothes he would wear, to the way he talked. He was always more mature, not laughing at the jokes his classmates would tell, not really having many friends. He always stuck up for everyone though. He would see freshmen being made fun of by upperclassmen and he would make sure he put a stop to it.

The ravenette would make his family breakfast everyday, today he was making them french toast and eggs. He saw a very sleepy looking Sean bound down the hallway, his hair a sleep ridden mess. “Good morning, breakfast is on the table. I need to go get ready for school. You have forty five minutes to eat and get dressed. I’m walking you to the bus stop this morning.” He said leaving the room, running into his mother in the hallway. “Good morning mama, breakfast is on the table. Have a good day at work.”

The male got into the shower quickly, rushing to get ready. He pulled on a pair of khakis and a green polo shirt, looking like a dad about to go golfing. He chuckled and rolled his eyes at his reflection, smoothing out his hair. He looked at his phone and realized that he needed to get a move on. He took Sean to the bus stop, walking back for his friend, Dave Rossi to pick him up. Dave and him had been friends since elementary school, seeking solace in each other. He was the stability that Dave needed, and Dave was the rebellion he needed. The man pulled up in his classic convertible. Aaron climbed into the front seat, relaxing into the leather.

“Hey Dave, thanks for picking me up.” He piped up with a small smile.

“Aaron! It’s no issue. How is Sean and Amanda?”

“Oh, they’re good. Sean misses you, he keeps asking me when you’re coming over again. Mom misses you too.”

Dave smiled at him and hummed in response, “I’ll have to come over one night for dinner” He said, pulling into the school. It was a short drive, but it was one that was well worth the gas.

Aaron walked into the school building and met with Blake, getting introduced with his freshman. Spencer Reid. When he saw the boy he was confused, he looked like a child. “Hi, I’m Aaron. What’s your name?”

“Spencer, I’m your freshman. I need my schedule.” He squeaked out. Damn he even sounded young.

Aaron was puzzled. How old was this kid? “Hey Spencer, um… Here is your schedule, we actually have a first period and lunch together. So just stick with me for a bit and we can head off to our first class. Which just so happens to be Algebra II. How old are you?” He asked, his voice lower in pitch.

Spencer looked up at him. “I’m nine… I know I’m little, but I am advanced. I have a high IQ and tested when I was seven, being placed into seventh grade. Now I’m nine in the ninth.”

Aaron looked at him, keeping his face in a calm manner. Nine. He was nine in high school. He knew that he needed to protect him. He was an easy target. He led the boy to their first hour, showing him the ropes. Maybe this year wouldn’t be terrible.

…

David woke up to the smell of food cooking. This was new. Normally he was home alone. He used to have his nanny Laura around, but when he started highschool his parents decided he was old enough to stay home without constant supervision. He missed the company though, seeing as how they had grown a nice friendship in the time. He wandered downstairs and saw his parents in the kitchen, a warm smile spreading across his face. They were home… For the first time in at least a month.

“Ma! Pa!” He greeted from the doorway, soon walking into the kitchen. He felt a warm bubble of happiness in his chest, something he felt less and less. The young man was lonely to say the least. He never had his parents around as a kid. He was always being handed around from nanny to butler, his parents deciding to buy his love instead. It started with nice toys, soon turning to electronics, and then a car. He was spoiled, but not on his own accord. He knew that his parents felt guilty for how they were absent in his life.

“Bambino!” His father greets, kissing the side of his head obnoxiously like the Italian father he was. Though the warmth of the moment was short lived when his phone rang, calling both him and Mrs. Rossi into work. Dave sighed, knowing that no arguing or sadness could help his case.

Dave sat in silence, eating the eggs his dad had made for him. He put his dirty dishes in the sink rinsing them off to make his job easier for later. Even though he had people to do these things for him, he insisted on doing it himself. He wasn’t that lazy. He knew that he would be on his own, so he figured he needed to know those basic life skills. He did get to learn some things from his friend Aaron. Aaron and him had been friends since fourth grade, despite the social classes. He thought of Aaron like an older brother, though they were the same age. He needed the responsibility and boundaries the other male had, craving that himself.

Dave walked upstairs, getting ready for the day. A hot shower, followed by jeans, a white tee-shirt and a leather jacket. His hair messily fluffed to the side. He went for a Greaser esc style. He packed his bag, soon going out to his car to pick Aaron up. He felt bad for the man because he didn’t drive yet, he was too busy to deal with minimal things. Or that is what he said. When he got to the males house, he smiled warmly. He was so alone at home, any interaction made him happy. When Aaron told him Sean missed him his heart swelled. Dave was an only child. He always loved children, being around them, playing or talking to them, coloring, really anything they wanted. He thought of the Hotchner family as his family away from home. Amanda being around more than his mother ever was.

Dave pulled into the school at 7:15, leaving time to screw around before his first hour. His grades never suffered from his antics. He felt himself slipping into the persona of David Rossi, the class clown. He acted different at school, making himself overly obnoxious, trying to be funny because he wanted acceptance. Was that really too much to ask?

#spencer reid #emily prentiss #david rossi #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #criminal minds au #high school au #themisfits

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hufflepuffhollander · 4 years

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Okay SO I've been sitting on this concept for SO LONG 😭😭 Could you write a planetarium date with Tom? Possibly a college au where reader is studying astrophysics (if that's too specific that's cool lol) and Tom takes a liking to her? So even tho he knows nothing about space he takes her to the planetarium, but she doesn't realize it's a date until he like compliments her during one of her space rants or when she's just super excited to be there? And she's like oh 😳 and fluff?? Thank you!

as a big college nerd myself I am so here for this! also space is amazing but college physics has kicked my ass so this clearly would never apply to me lol

college!tom x fem reader | just fluff here | word count: 1k| enjoy!

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“In this class, I will be challenging you to apply the laws of physics and chemistry to explain the birth, life and death of our stars, planets, galaxies, nebulae and other objects in the universe. I hope you are up for the challenge.”

With those words, your dignified professor ended class, and you packed up your books, starry eyed. It was only syllabus week, but you were already insanely excited to jump into astrophysics and learn everything you could to make sense of this big blue world.

Tom sat a few seats away, barely able to pay attention to the lecture because he couldn’t stop staring at the gorgeous girl next to him. Hell, he didn’t care about space. This was one of the only electives available when he registered for classes late, and now he was stuck learning about gravitational pull and supernovas. But that didn’t seem to matter now, because there was suddenly a new star to focus on.

You spent the next few weeks taking all the notes you could, absorbing everything you were learning like it was a matter of life or death. The only thing that could distract you was the boy sitting a few seats away who would ask you for a pencil or the answer to a lecture question every now and then. But honestly, you didn’t mind. He was kinda cute, albeit terrible at physics. One day, he came into class and sat down right next to you, handing you a pencil from his bag.

“I believe I owe you this,” he said, smiling. You took the pencil and smiled back. “Thanks.” He continued to look at you even though the conversation had clearly ended.

“Uh, I’m Tom, by the way,” he said.

“Y/N,” you said back, intrigued by the way his cheeks were flushing while talking to you.

You made light conversation throughout the lecture, and couldn’t help but spend more time thinking about him than the class material. After an hour that only felt like minutes passed, the professor stood up at the end of the period.

“I see a lot of you are struggling after this first exam, so I am offering a rare extra credit assignment for those who are interested,” he started. Tom turns to you and says, “I think he just looked directly at me. Ouch.” It made you laugh louder than you expected. The professor continued on.

“You have the option to go to the planetarium and write a 500-word essay on a physical phenomenon of your choosing, whether it be the climactic conditions on mars or the theory of relativity.”

You took a chance and leaned closer to Tom. “Who would choose theory of relativity over space tornadoes?”

To anyone else, it would’ve been a flop of a joke. To Tom, it was the cutest thing he’d heard all week. He looked back at you, taking a chance of his own.

“Actually, uh, would you want to go to the planetarium with me? We could write about space weather together.”

“Yeah, sounds good.” you replied.

Cute dummy, you thought, he really doesn’t know anything about space.

Later that week, you met up with Tom at the planetarium just off campus, ready to take some pictures of the displays and come up with an idea of what to write about. He seemed less relaxed than normal and kept anxiously running his fingers through his hair, but you took no mind to it. You were too wrapped up in the beauty of the panoramic galaxy viewing room to care.

“Wow, look at all of this! It’s so incredible,” you stared up at the ceiling and all around, taking in the colorful sights of the milky way above you. “Isn’t it crazy that we’re just a speck of dust, floating around in that giant cloud of billions of stars, that there could be planets just like us existing out there?”

Truthfully, Tom had no idea what you were talking about, especially when you started on the scientific research into parallel universes and black holes, but he just nodded and smiled and stared at you. He couldn’t help but be enthralled by how your bright eyes were full of wonder, so detached from the mundaneness of life on the ground, and he loved how something so seemingly intangible could make you so happy. Admittedly, he’d already thought on the surface that you were so beautiful it hurt, but now, he felt it inside him, too.

You came back down to earth for a moment, looking at him staring at you. You felt that familiar heat creep up into your cheeks and tried to break the silence, even though you were both enjoying just looking at each other.

“Isn’t it all so beautiful?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he stammered. “You really are.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you turned again to face him, taken aback by what he said.

“So you really wanted that extra credit, huh?” you smirked at him.

“I’ll be honest, I may have had an ulterior motive.” he laughed back, moving a few inches closer to where you were sitting, previously staring up into the abysmal simulated sky. You realized you’d been oblivious, star-struck by stars, barely paying attention to the cute boy who sat next to you that was only pretending to be interested in class so he could talk to you.

You looked down, embarrassed and not sure what to say, when his hand floated to rest on yours. You sat there like that, slowly lacing your fingers together, content to be surrounded by the things that made you most happy- planets, space dust, and Tom Holland.

“Would you wanna study together sometime? I could really use some help before this next exam, and studying with the smartest and sweetest physicist there is couldn’t hurt.”

You turned to smile at him, embracing the tingles you were feeling between your intertwined fingers.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

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woooo that was fluffier than my australian shepherd! hope it’s everything you wanted! xoxo

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sneksue · 3 years

Text

Official Post About Lifestyle Changes

The date is January 28, 2021.

I have not had chickens for a while. It will be 2 years in August. I have been meaning to write something here about all of it, but I either have not had time, or the willpower to go through with it. I was in grieving.

In June of 2019, I took a trip from my shared homestead in Mississippi to Colorado to do some long distance hiking. I left all of my animals in the care of my ex husband’s mother and her then boyfriend.

I trusted them to at least do the bare minimum in my animal’s basic care.

That didn’t happen. They failed night after night to close and lock the coop’s door. They wouldn’t change their water during the day and they did not collect eggs.

When I had service on my phone during the hike, I checked in with them to find out that because they had not closed or locked the coop door at night, several birds were “missing”, with more missing every day.

Instead of simply closing the door and providing a safe space for my dear, darling animals to sleep at night, they decided to buy a game camera to see what was happening to them at night.

Their reasoning had absolutely zero logic, and I was pretty pissed.

They found that raccoons were simply just waltzing into the coops and grabbing birds. The raccoons would drag them away into the woods and feast.

By the time our trip was almost over, all of my ducks were gone. There were only a few chickens left, and the guinea fowl were all intact due to roosting 50ft up in oak trees. My cat was also “missing”.

I was heartbroken, devastated. I had spent so much money, time, energy, and love to build this flock. I wanted to provide my “family” and myself with sustainable, renewable food in case of a natural disaster. No one seemed to value my efforts, or even care to see what my end goal was.

On top of grieving for the loss of my feathered babies, my then husband’s younger brother decided to GO OFF on me during our drive back to Mississippi. He claimed I was selfish, psychotic, uncaring, and manipulative. He screamed at me while we were all stuck in the car. He called me a bitch, he called me a liar, he called me a leech. I was stunned in silence. I had been struggling with my mental health for years, and had contemplated suicide more times than I could count. So, it is no surprise that while we were driving 70mph on the interstate, I seriously contemplated opening the car door and leaping out into traffic.

I turned to my husband, my partner, the love of my life, my support system, to back me up. Defend me. Tell his brother that he was wrong. My husband did nothing of the sort. He remained silent as the verbal barrage from his brother continued.

Everything clicked for me then. My mother in law was a complete nutcase, she blamed me for all of my husband’s shortcomings. She viewed me as a failure for not being the perfect housewife. She only saw me as a burden on her son’s happiness. My husband maintained an emotional distance from me for several years. He refused to be intimate towards me. He never showed an interest in me, my thoughts, my feelings. He never stood up for me or was proud to show me off. He never commended my strengths and triumphs, he only pointed out what he viewed were my failures. My brother in law was more of a nutcase than his mother, physically abusing his dog and neglecting his cat, leeching off of his mother and getting handouts at every possible opportunity, spending his days smoking hundreds of dollars of marijuana, drinking booze, playing videogames.

I had no social life, I wasn’t allowed to have a social life.

I had no friends I could hang out with, all of my friends were online.

No matter how much I did for these people and how much I excelled at everything I did, nothing was ever enough. I was never enough.

No wonder I struggled with mental health, eh?

I came to this realization instantaneously, and demanded to be dropped off at my dad’s house in Westminster, CO.

I had none of my personal belongings besides my hiking and camping stuff. I didn’t care, I just had to get away from these toxic monsters.

My husband and I loosely decided that this would be a “break” for our relationship, and that he would go back to MS to work and save up to move here with me. I agreed and I began working and saving up myself.

We both knew he was never going to come here. We were never going to be together again.

We remained in close contact for a few months after the separation. But the contact and our conversations became fewer and less substantial.

One night, as I was walking home from work, I called and told him that I thought we should break up. He admitted to me that he had removed his wedding ring over three weeks prior. I was understandably hurt by that, but I did understand.

He also informed me that all of the birds were gone or dead except for a couple roosters.

I was more devastated by the loss of my birds than the loss of my marriage. If that doesn’t tell you enough, I don’t know what does!!

My cat never returned.

I asked him if we could keep in contact, and he told me he did not want to talk to me or hear from me for several years. I was once again hurt by this, but with his own mental health issues, I again, understood. He did say he can see us being friends in the future, but now that its been some time, I don’t want to be friends with him. I want the best for him, but I can’t bring myself to expose my mentality to his toxicity and negativity.

I asked again and again, over a period of months, for him to return my belongings. He kept putting it off. I told him I was going to drive down there myself and gather everything i could and dispose of the rest.

He agreed, initially, then banned me from coming only after I requested the time off from work and had friends to accompany me on the journey, He promised he’d send all my stuff in several shipments after he sold my car. I told him he could keep the profit from the sale of my car and use it to send me my stuff.

He ended up sending me ONE box of my stuff. And most of it wasn’t even mine. I was appalled and disgusted that he’d be so careless and inconsiderate.

I sent him messages and requested SPECIFIC items after I received the first box. I got no reply, and no more packages to this day have been sent.

He and his family stole my property, killed my pets, and broke my heart.

Thieves, liars, and extremists, the lot of them.

I grieve daily for the loss of my animals and the torture I was put through for nearly 6 years.

All of that out of the way, let me move on to tell you what this blog will now feature.

I have obviously had a change in lifestyle. I no longer live on homesteading land, I live in a roomy two bedroom apartment with my AMAZING fiance.

My love of chickens, I discovered, was a love for reptiles in general. Cuz birds are reptiles and all that jazz.

When I met my fiance, I was already blown away by his attitude, confidence, and view on life right off the bat! He inspired me, made me want to be better to myself.

Meeting him felt weird, at first. It felt weird because I was waiting for this amazing person to... have a catch. There’s gotta be a red flag somewhere. And if there isn’t... he is probably a psychopath who will eventually turn on me and kill me. No one is that... good.

So I thought to myself, “Welp, gotta find out. I’ll go to his house!”

He had a couple little snakes in his room which I demanded to play with. He happily got them out and I was like “THAT’S the catch? Nah, this just convinces me this guy is... my kind of guy.”

I’ve had a love of snakes since early childhood. Not an interest of passion, but I truly loved interacting with and watching them. I’ve never had an innate fear of any insect, (exclude honeybee, because I didn’t know better at 6 years old), or animal. I love them all and everything they do to contribute. All they experience.

I used to catch wild garter snakes and rat snakes in nets, pet them, show them to my mother occasionally to freak her out, and release them. Then watch them.

There were a mating pair of Oteekee Corn Snakes in my HS yard. Every summer we’d see them, out and about hunting, hiding, climbing... growing. They were bright red and jet black with specks of yellow. I could tell these guys were pretty smart and maybe there was more to snakes than I really thought about ever.

So, being sold on this amazing guy, we up and moved in together. Nice. My paycheck kept going up and up. I was saving a ton. I wanted a car and an apartment as soon as possible.

I got bonus after bonus for working hard at my job and everyone hitting labor targets.

We got a place. Nice.

Both got steady jobs. Nice.

There’s uh, a lot of room in this new place. Nice.

Hey it’s my birthday and I can get myself a snake. I have more than enough for supplies and the animal itself.

I browsed on morphmarket for what felt like ages....

I had no idea that there were.... so many complicated genetics with ball pythons. I was highly interested, because if you know me, you know I’m interested in genetics and selective breeding.

I found there were THOUSANDS of genetic combinations, each with unique names. It was like alien code. The animals were beautiful but I had no idea what I was really looking at.

One night while going to our local reptile store to get feeder rats, I was looking around at all the glass window babies, as I usually do.

I made my way around the scorpions, tarantulas, cave scorpions, frogs, lizards, the store’s companion burmese python, and my eyes landed on a little... adorable puppy-eyed baby ball python. The signage stated that it was a Puma. Seemed simple enough. Easy name to remember. I looked into the glass at the lil noodle, and talked all baby talk and shit. The sweet little thing came right up to scope at me, then yawned.

I called an employee over and said I’d like to handle this animal right here. The employee obliged and I fell in love. Sexed as male. Easy buy.

I cried on the way home, It was amazing. I have one picture on here of him a few days after I got him. His name is Mallow, and he is bigger now, but still just as sweet.

So yeah. It went from there. Now, including the boa and ball python that are my fiance’s, and Mallow, we have added 3 more to our family. We are done now, as these animals may live a loooooong time. And they require space and attention just like any other pet. They’re not expensive, and they’re low maintenance care is nearly brainless if you set it up right. They’re statistically and actually safer than dogs or cats, and are absolutely therapeutic and entertaining.

This blog will from this day forward be dedicated to snake content, reptile content, and a lot more fun, actually good pictures. I will also share genetic related stuff I find relevant.

Not having a shitty phone camera is pretty great, tbh.

TLDR: No more homestead. Ex is evil (yeah yeah), New place new animal new me. SNAKES! SNAKES!!!! SNAAAAAAAAAKKKKKKKKEEEEESSSSS!

I know this post is just for me but whatever, if I make myself laugh. Cool. G’night.

#blog change #lifestyle change #reptile #personal #judge #don't read me #please don't read this #like its awful #seriously #my past #my present #i am good #all is well #i'm growing #chickens to reptiles #homestead to apartment

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odissey061 · 4 years

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This post is inspired by a post made by crazyfreckledginger's post (read it because is really well done).

There are some of my headcanon, if you aren't interested, you can skip them ;)

Tag: @towa-no-yume @r-f-a-journalists @crazyfreckledginger

MOTONARI NSFW ALPHABET

A = Aftercare

He doesn't really cuddly after sex: he usually puts an arm around you and kisses your head; but this doesn't mean he dislikes when you cling to him with your naked body against his. If you fall asleep before him, then he'll stroke your hair for a while and, as he is going to sleep, he'll fully embrace you.

B = Body part

Motonari loves grabbing your breasts, tights and ass during sex, but he is weak also for your neck expecially if he's going to leave marks.

On him is the .... you know, but of course he has other spots. As a man is quite proud of his muscolature so he's really aroused when you hold to his arms as he fucks you.

C = Cum

He rarely cums inside you (he's not ready to have a child) and the most of the time your body will be covered by his semen

D = Dirty secret

A lot of time passes before you two could start to being intimate. Since he has met you, he became so much frustrated that almost every nights he fucked you in his dreams. He was so thirsty for you that even an accidental touch made his fantasies run wild and the need to have his way with you was so strong. The point is: once you two have risked to have sex for the first time in a public place because a make out session was too heated. How much words I used for this? *palme face*

E = Experience

Based on headcanon of mine, he had sex with many women in brothels to gain informations about his enemies in this way.

Being part of the "job" he didn't really care for their pleasure, but when it comes to you... well, he is quite in troubles, expecially if you are virgin this poor boy'd be terrifyied to hurt you. After the first times in which he'll be reaaaaally cautious and reserved, he'd rapidly get used, even if he'll be slower to introduced her more adventurous things.

F = Favourite Position

Sex with him is savage, hot and passionate. You can start with traditional positions, like missionare or doggy style, but during a session he often changes them. Since you started to go to bed with him, you discovered the existence of a lot position you didn't even know about

G = Goofy

Intimate moments with you are extremely serious to him, so no jokes, but if he's in a more joyful moment he could chuckle for your cute expressions

H = Hair

Groomed, but not to much, after all he's a pirat living in a ship in the middle sea: what kind of hygiene do you thing there was?

I = Intimacy

He's really possessive, so he usually kisses you in public (and here I say it: his kisses are really intense and passionate: he hold your head firm in his hands as his tongue fucks your mouth) and really often he leaves a trail of affection on your neck.

Sometimes he even kisses the breasts then he remembers you are in a public place and he stops but soon he'll continue in yours quarters. He doesn't want other people seeing your pleasured face, so sex and foreplay are reserved for your quarters only.

His gloves. (Still based on a headcanon of mine). He wore gloves to avoid human contact, but after he understood he was comfortable with you he doesn't need them any more (obviously it took a lot of time for him). I know it may looks a contraddiction, but early sex for him was lacking of feelings and when he made love to you for the first time, he utterly bare himself -metaphorically speaking- to be his real self. That's why your first time together came late in your relationship.

J = Jerk Off

He did before, but isn't really down for it. Now he has you he rather fuck you, but if is part of your bedroom activities he doesn't complain at all.

He may work on himself, but not so often.

K = Kink

If you search the word "kink" on the vocaboulary you can find his picture. Seriously, name a kink and he knows it.

Shibari. This pirate knows how to create a lot of knots and he will try them on you. Plus knowing you trust his so much to be restrained is a turn for him

Spanking. And not only your ass me and my dirty mind

Dom/sub, this was obvious. He's the dom and you are the sub. He enjoys when you follow is directions in the bedroom. You want see Motonari loosing his restraint? Be bratty and he'll teach you how behave in bed ;) (I don't know if you will be able to walk the next morning cof cof)

Edging/orgasm denial when he feels more mean than usual. He loves seeing you flustrated to the point of tears and hearing your pleading voice begging to let you come stire something inside him

Marking. He likes both on you and himself. Awaking after a night of passion, seeing hickeys on your body fills his ego more than anything and he will carry with pride your hickeys, showing off much to the crew dismay

Talk dirty. He loves when he whispers the filthiest words in your ears and you blush. Except also a lot of dirty jokes.

Body praising. Sometimes he may let you be in charge: this is your occasion to kiss and touch his scars, praise his body with kind gestures. Even if he doesn't show it a lot, this really warm his heart and he'll fall more in love with you

L = Location

As said before, making out in public place is okay for him (after all he shows you are his), but sex and foreplay in the bedroom

M = Motivation

You, obvious but true.

He's particularly weak when you show affection when he doesn't expect. he melts for a brief second, but then he shows his appreciation toward your body as well grabbing your ass and kissing you ;). MC used sudden affection, is super effective; but Motonari uses passionate kiss, is more effective. MC is defeated.

His jealousy: spent a lot of time with his comrades and slightly neglet him for a while, but this careful with this dog because he can bite and the punishment could be more more hard then you can imagine

As said before, be bratty during sex, try to dominate him and he'll teach you who is in charge.

Be audacious and respond to his passion: whisper in his hear the dirtiest things and how much you crave for his body, nothing excites him more than this, but be carefull: he won't make you walk the next morning

N = No

He won't share you, no matter how many time you beg him: you are his and his alone, no other men (or women) are allowed to step in your intimacy.

He loves when you feel pleasure thought the pain, but this doesn't mean he'll uselessy hurt you during sex. He isn't a sadist

O = Oral

He prefers receiving than giving. He adores the rubbing of your hair against his tight when you make a blowjob. He tries to don't loose his composure, but look him in the eyes when you use the tongue in that way and he'll moan helplessy your name.

When he please you be prepared because he'll tease the hell out of you. He's very skilled and he knows it, so he'll make you scream his name until he's satisfyied. The orgasms he gives you in the foreplay are really a few because he prefers when you cum on his dick.

P = Pace

For a guy demanding in bed as much as him, what do you except? He's reay fast and rough, passionate as sin in a normal session.

But if you are aching, he'll be gentler. It's a bit difficoult for him keeping a slower pace when is inside you, but he has all the intentions of not hurting you more

He's sweet and loving, but only if something bad happened to you or he feels insecure and even in this way, sex with him is mind blowing

Q = Quickies

He prefers have proper sex with you, but if quickies is all he can have, he'll be sure to make them enjoyable as the usual sex

R = Risky

Are you kidding? Absolutly yes! Motonari is super adventurous and risky and nothing makes him more aroused than his partner wanting try new things with him.

S = Stamina

Actually he can go for two or three rounds straight, but a lot depend on his partner's request and on the mood: a jealous Motonari can go through the whole night

T = Toy

I don't know what kind of sexual toys exsist in Sengoku period, but even if they were he'd demonstrate you there's no need to use them: he's better then toys. But if you show him some toys from the modern time, he'll be quite curious to learn more

U = Unfair

If he feels particularly mean during the day, he will neglet you his attentions, even in little things like kisses and physical contact; but during sex he's an ass actually one of the most unfair amongst all the suitor and during a playful session he won't let you come for a lot of times

V = Volume

Usually all you can get during sex are heavy pants and grunts, but if you are quite skilled, he can even moans your name when you please him. Let's imagine his husky voice when he calls your name as he comes

W = Wildcard

When he can't have you because you have period, he behaves like a capricious kid with you, but with his crew will be super salty more than usual

Y = Yearning

He's horny for you 24/7 and if it were to him, he'd have always sex with you, but as a captain, he knows he has a crew and a ship to command. He is quite good with self restrain, but there are times in which he can't resist to have you (expecially if you do the first move)

Z = ZZZ

He doesn't hold back during sex, so after he's sure the both of you are fully satisfyied, he falls asleep in ten or fifteen minutes or if he is just tired he'll embrace you

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animeniacss · 4 years

Text

6 Years - Hoseok x Reader - Chapter 21 - What Have you Been Saying?

Synopsis: 6 years. That’s all it can take to take another look at someone and see that they have completely changed. You were once an eager 20-year-old, with your dreams all in view, and Jung Hoseok at your side to view them with you. However, after a break up the end of your junior year of college, everything seemed different. Now, you’re a recently divorced single mother of two, and your life is nowhere near what you thought it would be. However, after reuniting with Jung Hoseok, you may just be able to capture a little bit of that exciting youth you once knew so long ago.

Feat. BTS Members, Nayeon (TWICE), and Yuna (itzy)

Genre: Romance, SingleMother!AU, Past Relationship, Drama, Some Depictions of Violence/Domestic Abuse

Length: approx. 5.3k words

Disclaimer: This chapter contains subjects of violence, such as physical and verbal abuse. Please do not read this chapter of the story if these topics are triggering to you. Stay safe and healthy, and know that I and many others are here for you!

Chapter 21 - What Have you Been Saying?

The walk through the halls wasn’t long, but it sure felt it with how silent everyone was on the walk. A few students were seen straggling in the halls, only for Mrs. Song to encourage them to hurry and head home. As the walk finally came to an end, Mrs. Song turned to you.

“Right in here, please.” She said happily, opening the door. Weong-Bin was quick to slide over, holding the door open for her. Mrs. Song offered a kind smile, and a thank you, while you simply turned up your nose and walked inside. It looked like a teacher’s office, sectioned off for more than one teacher to occupy at a time. There only seemed to be a few other teachers’ inside at the moment, scattered through the room and doing some various forms of paperwork. Mrs. Song led you to what seemed to be her spot, where three chairs were awaiting you. As the three of you sat, Mrs. Song let out a deep sigh. “Well, let me just start by saying Min Ja is an absolute joy in class. She’s very, very helpful and incredibly smart.”

“Thank you.” You said softly.

“I don’t want any of you to get the wrong idea, I didn’t call you in here because I wanted to discuss negative behavior. Min Ja is one of our better-behaved students. I wanted to bring you in because I’m starting to get concerned with some things.”

“…Such as?”

“Well…” she sighed. “Min Ja seems to be struggling with making connections with the other kids in class. She’s sociable, and she gets along with most of the kids, but there are a lot of elements that cause her to withdraw from her peers.” When she saw both you and Weong-Bin share a glance, she hummed. “Min Ja is the only child in class whose parents are divorced.” She said simply. “All the other students live with both of their parents. We only have one student whose father passed away, but his mother remarried when the child was barely one, so he identifies that man as his father. Min Ja is the only one who is in a familial situation such as yours.” She saw your face flush, eyes quickly cast down onto your lap in embarrassment, even slight shame. Mrs. Song quickly noticed. “I’m not trying to judge you for what has happened, I don’t know the whole story and I’m merely trying to share statistics with you. Please, forgive me.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Weong-Bin said simply. Mrs. Song sighed.

“Anyway, I have tried to do different things in class to teach about different family lives, and maybe allow Min Ja to share her stories with the class. I thought that might help her talk out her own anxieties as well and start to help her. She wouldn’t participate in any of them, she just kept her head down. I talked about single-parent homes and San-Ha actually, bless her soul, called out that Min Ja only lived with her Mom, but saw her Dad a few days a week. When I asked her to share, she burst into tears.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “When I asked her why, she said she couldn’t talk about it to me, because she needed her Dad to trust her.” Your heart began to race.

“I…see…” you said softly.

“As you know, I try to encourage the kids to share their emotions and feelings through drawings, especially because they’re still learning how to write and they can express their emotions clearer when they draw it out, they’ve been drawing since they could hold stuff.” Reaching over, she grabbed a small stack of papers from her desk. “When I see children acting unusually anxious, or scared, or sad, or any other negative emotion and they can’t or won’t verbally share it, I try and ask them to draw it out for me.” She handed you and Weong-Bin about 3 papers. You rolled them open and took a look at them. As you skim through, the pictures were concerning. There was a copy of the family portrait she had done for a homework assignment. Another was of what looked like Min Ja, standing with scribbles all around her. There was almost no color in this picture, just black. The only color came from her attempt at coloring her school uniform in with a blue crayon.

“Did she tell you what this one was?” you asked curiously, pointing to it.

“She drew that one yesterday. I had noticed she wasn’t playing with any of the other kids so during one of the breaks I asked her what was wrong. She drew this and said, and I quote, ‘Daddy is making my head spin. But I can’t tell you why.’” Your eyes darted to Weong-Bin, who ran a hand through his hair. He looked a bit worried by this, but you couldn’t tell if he was putting on the act of a concerned parent, or if he was genuinely worried. “At first I wasn’t sure what she might be talking about, then I saw this-.” She moved the picture over to expose the second to the last one. It was a picture of a house, a big house, with tons of rooms. Everyone seemed to have a room, her, Hyo Bin, you, Weong-Bin, and Hoseok. Everyone was smiling, and despite the bright colors and cute little rainbow and flowers, the picture emitted an air of desperation. “I pulled it out of her portfolio of drawings. When I asked her about it, she said that she wanted to try and build a house that everyone could live in together and be happy. When I asked why, she said that in the house she lived in now, she could only live with Mr. Hobi or her Dad.”

“Oh my God…” all of it began to make sense. Min Ja’s drawings were telling you what Weong-Bin would not, they were telling you how much she was really hurting and how anxious she was. They were telling you why Min Ja had that absolute break down when she thought Hoseok was going to move in.

“Then, I saw her doodling this one during our lunch period.” She pulled out the last picture. The one on the bottom was of two stick figures, both with slanted eyes and frowns on their faces. There were scribbles all around them, possibly indicating yelling. The one stick figure in a pink dress, most likely you, had blue crayon marks near her eyes. There was also a big red ‘X’ over the picture. You blinked, glancing at Weong-Bin, who seemed to have no reaction this time. “When I asked her what she was drawing, she almost yelled at me and said she wasn’t finished, then hid it away.”

“I’m so sorry about that.” You sighed. She shook her head and offered a smile.

“When she finished the picture, she brought it to me.” She flipped the picture to show the backside, where Min Ja had put another drawing. It was of two stick figures, but instead of arguing, they were hugging. The male stick figure seemed to have hints of blonde in its hair, and you quickly recognized that it was meant to be Hoseok. “I asked her what this meant, and she wouldn’t really say. But I kind of got an idea. So, I asked her if this was you both at home.” She pointed to the first picture with the arguing. “And that this was Mr. Hobi and you.” She pointed to the second picture. “But then, she said that she added the ‘X’ because you both don’t fight anymore. That her Daddy had fixed his mistakes.” You blinked, gripping the picture tightly as you tried your best not to start crying. All you could do was nod, running a hand through your hair.

“I can’t believe this…she told you all this through pictures. How long has this been going on?”

“I started noticing the withdrawal about a week and a half ago. The first picture she made was this two-sided one. That was when I tried to get more out of her, leading to the rest of the pictures. That, on top of the inability to relate with her peers when it comes to family relationships, started to worry me.”

“What do you mean ‘inability to relate to peers about family relationships?’” Weong-Bin asked, and you could hear the irritation in his voice. Mrs. Song blinked.

“Like I said, Min Ja is the only girl in class who lives with divorced parents. When we talk about family, she can’t relate when the other students talk about what they did with both of their parents. She doesn’t participate in those conversations. When I call on her to give me an answer, if she doesn’t force herself to give me an answer, she’ll become flustered and burst into tears. I’m simply trying to show the relationship between that behavior and her drawings, there’s a connection here.”

“So, what are you trying to say here? I don’t love my kids? This is painting me in a bad light. I love my girls to death, how dare you-.”

“I’m not saying that, Mr. Cho-.”

“Weong-Bin!” You said quickly, looking at him. “How dare you, she only is trying to help us.” Weong-Bin looked away, grabbing the pictures and standing up.

“I’m not going to sit here and be railroaded about my parenting.” He said, storming out of the room. He slammed the door, alerting the attention of the teachers in the room. You sighed, running a hand through your hair. You were amazed that Weong-Bin, who was always sure to keep up appearances, had shouted and left the room like a child. Was he finally cracking? Was this what would send him over the edge?

“I’m so sorry.” You said softly. “He’s normally not like that in situations like this.” Mrs. Song gave you a sympathetic look, reaching out and putting a hand on your shoulder.

“I apologize, I must have said too much.”

“No, of course not.” You said. “I appreciate your help. I didn’t even know she was feeling this. I’ve noticed she’s been upset and anxious but every time that I tried to talk to her about it, she would freak out and avoid it. She had a meltdown the other day when she overheard my boyfriend and I talking about moving in together. This must be why…” you sighed. “I had him talk to her about this, I didn’t know he was the one making this so bad.”

“Your boyfriend, how does he get along with Min Ja, if I may ask.” She asked curiously.

“They have a great relationship. But ever since this whole thing started, she’s seemed a bit more distant from him. She doesn’t seem her usual lively self when he’s around anymore. What do you suggest that I do?”

“I’m not a therapist, only a teacher. But I assure you that I will help you in any way I can to make sure that Min Ja’s anxiety will lessen while she is in school.”

“Thank you so much. We’ll be in touch.” You shook her hand and stood up, fixing your bag. Mrs. Song smiled, reaching over to her desk and grabbing one more picture. She offered it to you.

“I meant to show this to you as well to show that Min Ja isn’t only just drawing depressing pictures.” When you took the picture, you opened it to see a brightly scribbled picture of what looked to be a zoo. There were four stick figures, three in dresses and one in pants with black hair and a heart mouth. There were red pandas, alpacas, bears, and other animals you couldn’t really identify based on her little kid scribbles, but you knew exactly what you were looking at and it made your heart soar. “It’s one of the first pictures she drew for me this year. I know things are probably getting a bit hectic, but I think your daughter is very fond of your boyfriend.”

“Heh, thanks.” You offered a nod of your head. “Have a good day, Mrs. Song.” She got up and bowed a bit as well, waving you off as you exited the room, closing the door behind you.

You found Weong-Bin outside the school, pacing and grumbling under his breath. You approached him and crossed your arms.

“What are you, six years old? How could you walk out on that conversation?”

“She was judging my parenting. She was all ‘Dad this, Dad that.’ She didn’t say anything about your shortcoming once!”

“My short-.” You sighed. “Weong-Bin this isn’t the time to put yourself on an ego boost. This is about Min Ja, what have you been telling her that’s making her so anxious?”

“Me!? What do you mean me?”

“Well, you said you talked to her and ever since then she’s been worse than before. What did you say to her?!”

“Don’t raise your voice at me.” He hissed under his breath, putting his face close to yours. You stepped back, crossing your arms. “I won’t continue yelling outside the school.”

“I agree.” You said softly, nodding your head. Both of you were silent for a moment, and you sighed softly. “Can you…stop by after I get Min Ja to dance?” Weong-Bin nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll be sure too.” He said. You could feel your heartbeat begin to speed up, and you quickly attempted to collect yourself.

“Then I’ll go then.” You said simply. Weong-Bin nodded, grumbling under his breath as he walked down the street and to his car. You watched him for a moment, sighing as you headed to the playground down the street. As the playground came into view, you saw Hoseok pushing Hyo Bin on one of the swings, and you could hear she cheered in delight as she flew through the air. Hoseok was smiling as he pushed her, looking over to Min Ja, who was trying to keep herself flying all on her own. He was encouraging her to pump her legs, and occasionally walking over to give her a big push as well. It helped slow your heart rate to see your girls, and you hurried over to the swing set, catching their attention.

“Oh, look who it is.” Hoseok said, motioning in your direction. Min Ja looked up, and nerves washed over her like the biggest and most powerful wave at the beach. She jumped off the swing and ran into the playground structure, hiding underneath one of the bridges. You blinked, glancing at Hoseok, who looked just as confused by the child’s sudden bolt, but he couldn’t help but smile.

“How did it go?” he asked curiously.

“It went alright. Min Ja’s teacher told us a bunch of stuff…put a lot of things into perspective.”

“How did Weong-Bin take it?”

“Not well. He’s meeting up at my house after I take the girls to dance so we can talk…” Hoseok looked a bit worried, rightfully so at the idea of you and Weong-Bin being alone, and you noticed that. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Remember how he grabbed your face? And that was when the girls were in the house. What do you think will happen if it’s only the two of you?” You sighed softly, running your hands through your hair. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I…” you sighed. “You’re right.” You admitted. “But I already told him to meet me at my house. He’ll be angrier if I don’t show up.” Hoseok still didn’t look convinced. “…Don’t look at me that way…” you said softly.

“Well, I’m sorry if I’m a bit uncomfortable with you being home alone talking to your ex-husband who just happens to put his hands on you when he isn’t happy.” You could see that he was now getting a bit frustrated, and you bit your lip. Hoseok stopped the swing that Hyo Bin was on and sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” you said. “Don’t apologize, you have every right to be upset with me.” You said simply. “I just…I was trying to trust him with this. I know he loves those girls, I never thought he would do anything to hurt them. But her teacher said that a lot of what Min Ja is getting anxious over is based on what Weong-Bin has said to her.” Hoseok nodded. “And I think I knew that deep down but I was in such denial that he would go so far as to manipulating Min Ja-.” your voice cracked, emotions overwhelming you as those words left your mouth. “I need to know why; I need to hear him tell me what the hell is going through his mind right now.” Hoseok nodded. “So, I’ll be dropping Min Ja off, and hopefully is So-Hee is there, she’ll hold onto Hyo Bin for me. I don’t want either of them there.”

“Okay.” He said, finally lifting Hyo Bin from the swing. “Then let’s head home and get ready.” You nodded, turning around to see Min Ja walking over to you from her hiding place.

“I’m not in trouble, am I?” She asked softly.

“No, sweetie.” You assured, taking her hands. “Let’s go home and get ready for dance class, okay?” Min Ja nodded and smiled a bit.

When you had gotten the girls home, Hoseok left early to prepare for his classes. You had gotten the girls ready, putting Min Ja in her cute little ballet outfit and tutu, and put Hyo Bin in a little casual tee shirt and pants that were not covered in playground woodchips. You kept thinking about how upset Hoseok was at the idea that you and Weong-Bin would be alone, and you knew he was right.

Why do I always give him second chances? You thought to yourself as you stood in front of the microwave, heating up some leftovers for the girls to eat quickly. I feel like I know exactly what is going to happen tonight, and yet I’m still doing it. I’m so stupid.

The sound of the microwave beeping pulled you from your thoughts and made you get back on track to get your children to dance on time. You dropped Min Ja off in her class, and after staying to talk to So-Hee and a few of the other mother’s you had begun to befriend, you checked the time. Weong-Bin would be arriving at your house soon, and you needed to hurry up getting home. Luckily, So-Hee offered to hold Hyo Bin for the duration of the lesson, but in return, you had to call her when the conversation was over. Before you headed out, you stopped in Hoseok’s studio. Peeking in, you saw he was training up a group of teenagers, the faint sound of hip-hop and shoes squeaking against the tiles coming from behind the closed door. You didn’t want to interrupt him, by the grin on his face as he led the group, he was busy and he was having fun. So, you fixed your bag and headed out of the studio.

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

When you got home, Weong-Bin was waiting by the door. He was on the phone with someone, pacing back and forth in front of your door as he waited for you. When he saw you, his pacing came to a stop.

“I’ll call you back.” He said to whoever he was talking to, before hanging up and stuffing his phone in his pocket. “I’ve been here for like 10 minutes waiting for you.”

“Well sorry, but I had to walk here from the dance studio that, shockingly, is a 10-minute walk.” You walked past him, unlocking the door to the apartment. Before stepping in, you turned to him. “Here’s the deal.” You said quickly. “I just want to talk. If you try to start anything or get too crazy, I will scream at the top of my lungs.” Weong-Bin chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“Whatever.” He said. You hesitated for a moment, and Weong-Bin frowned. “Open the fucking door and let’s get this over with!” He said. Instinctively, you flung the door open and stepped inside, Weong-Bin following behind you. “Now…” he closed the door behind him and took off his shoes. “Let’s talk.” You walked into the living room, taking a deep breath.

“What have you been telling Min Ja?” you asked curiously, turning to him. “And don’t lie to me. Those pictures prove that you told her something that is making her anxious, and is making her distant from Hoseok.”

“I’m not telling her anything that isn’t true.” He said simply.

“Then why do all these pictures tell a different story? Why does Mrs. Song say anytime she talks about her feelings it’s about you?”

“Oh please, that lady is a total crackpot liar.” He scoffed. “She’s either exaggerating or flat out lying, and I won’t stand for it.”

“Oh please, don’t try and play the victim to me. Now, what the hell have you been telling Min Ja?” Weong-Bin didn’t answer. “Weong-Bin!”

“Do not raise your voice at me!” He snapped angrily. “Do you understand?!” You stepped back, and Weong-Bin stopped. “…All I told her was that I missed her and wanted to see her every day. She said she wanted the same thing. I wasn’t lying.”

“…Why the fuck would you tell her that?!” You shouted. “What, did you think that if Min Ja wanted you to move back in I would just drop everything and do it? Are you out of your mind!? You’re manipulating a five-year-old girl into an anxiety disorder so you can get what you want?!”

“I’m not manipulating anyone.” He said simply. “She wants me to move back in. She wants us to be a family again. But I told her if Hoseok is here, then I can’t. Tell me where the lie is, there’s no lie. It’s just facts. Maybe she’s upset because she rather has me living here than Hoseok.” You blinked, staring at him for a moment in total surprise. “What? You asked me to talk to her about it, and I did. I told her if she wanted me to move in, then Hoseok couldn’t live with you.”

“I did not ask you to talk to her about having to choose between you or Hoseok!” you said simply.

“Well, you did. So congrats, you fucked your daughter up.”

“Me?!” You snapped. “How dare you! I’ve been trying endlessly to make her feel comfortable, to make her happy and calm and try to help her however I could! I thought I could trust you to be on my side for this. I know you don’t like Hoseok, and quite frankly I don’t care, but how could you pull your daughter into this for your own selfish gain? What did you want to get out of this?!”

“I said stop yelling at me.” He said simply, putting his hands in his pockets.

“No! The one time I try to work on this together, for the betterment of our daughter and you feed her lies! How could you ever make her pick between the two of you? She cares about Hoseok and you so much, she didn’t have any problems with him….” You felt your eyes water. “But just because you couldn’t get what you wanted you had to hurt her so bad…And I thought you loved those girls.”

“I do!” He snapped, storming up to you and closing any distance between you. “Don’t you ever say I don’t love those girls. I love them more than anything on this planet.”

“Then why couldn’t you just accept that Hoseok makes them happy and move on?” You asked, your voice trembling.

“Because he’s not their father, I am. I’m the one who is supposed to be in their lives, not him. If he wants his own family, he can go ahead and find his own, he doesn’t need to take what’s mine away from me.”

“We aren’t yours! We are not your property! You need to stop telling yourself that we are! Besides, I divorced you long before I even knew Hoseok was coming back into the area, and I knew even then I had no intention of ever getting back together with you!” Weong-Bin finally stepped back, and you could see the anger behind his eyes. “…I can’t believe I tried to trust you. I can’t believe that I told myself you would never do anything to hurt your kids.”

“I wouldn’t,” he said simply. “…This is all your fault, you know.”

“M-my fault?” you asked softly. “What do you mean?” Weong-Bin couldn’t help but scoff.

“Oh, you know exactly what I mean.” He said. “If you had not-.” he stopped, covering his mouth as he tried to think of what to say. “If you hadn’t fucked up…when Min Ja was little when we were trying to-.” He stopped again. “If you didn’t fuck up then, this never would have happened.” It took you a moment to think about what he was saying, what memory he could possibly be thinking about. Then, you realized. It was the moment that pinpointed exactly when the marriage began to fell apart. And you couldn’t believe he even brought it up.

“…That…that wasn’t my fault.” You choked out. “That wasn’t my fault, and you know it!”

“Well, it wasn’t mine! I wasn’t the one that was pregnant!” You covered your mouth. “Everything changed because you fucked up!”

“Oh my god, how could blame me? Do you think I wanted things to turn out this way?!”

“I said…” he turned back to you. “To stop shouting at me.” You took a deep breath and he scoffed. “What? Are you going to scream?”

“Only if you keep threatening me.” You said simply, wiping your eyes. “Please, just stop. We’re not talking about anything except for what you said to Min Ja. How you made you think that my relationship was bad and that you should move back in. She had a meltdown when she overheard me and Hoseok talking about moving in together.”

“Well, maybe she doesn’t want that to happen.” He said simply. “She’s a smart girl.”

“She is…” You said softly. “She’s so smart, even smarter than me. That’s why it kills me that she’s still a little five-year-old, who loves her father enough to the point that she trusts him wholeheartedly.” You turned your body away from him and shook your head. “I hope when she gets older, she views you for the monster you truly are.” Weong-Bin frowned, walking over to you. She walked over, grabbing your wrist and spinning you around to face him. Right as your eyes fell onto him, the blurry vision of something lifted up, and the next thing you knew, your cheek was throbbing. You stumbled back a bit, holding your cheek as you looked up at him, seeing his hand raised in his air, and somewhat shaking. The anger in his eyes had returned, and he was furious. “Weong-Bin, please-.”

“I’m sick and tired of your shit.” He hissed. “This is what you get when you piss me the fuck off.” You stepped back some more, but he pulled you close to him again, and he reached his hand up to tug at your hair. “You’re conspiring against me, aren’t you? If anyone is manipulating Min Ja here, it’s you. Telling her all these awful things about me, making me look like the criminal when all I wanted to do was be a good father!”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have anything to say if you didn’t do stuff like this!” You shouted. “Let go of me! You’re hurting me!”

“I’m hurting you? You’re hurting me! It kills me every time I have to sit and see that…that prick with my daughters, with my wife! It kills me, and you don’t even care because you’re selfish!” Once again, he slapped you, before slamming you up against the wall. You felt your body bounce off the wall, shaking as you sank down to the floor, looking up at Weong-Bin. In the entirety of your marriage, Weong-Bin’s abuse was emotional. He would worm his way into your head, feeding you lies and false information to get you thinking in a way that would only benefit him. It was a tactic that left no visible scars. Everyone always told you he could escalate to physical abuse, but you refused to believe them. When it finally did, you refused to acknowledge it. You angrily defended him for as long as you could, even after the divorce, even after you witnessed his escalation yourself.

“You need to leave!” You snapped. “Now, or I’ll call the police!”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me!” Your cheeks were still throbbing. “I can’t believe I still try to trust you enough. I only do it because you’re the girl’s father, or else I would never want to talk to you again!”

“No, you do it because you’re still head over heels in love with me, you little slut.”

“What?!”

“That’s right! You want me back so badly, it kills you! But you’ll never admit it because you like seeing boys fight over you.”

“You’re absolutely insane!” You said.

“Shut up!” He snapped, grabbing a little plant on the coffee table and flinging it against the wall, just barely missing you and shattering at your side. One of the pieces of glass grazes your leg, and you felt the sting wash over you. “Just shut up, you bitch!” As you quickly got to your feet, Weong-Bin was quick to slam you back into the wall to stop you from moving. “Don’t fucking move!” He ordered.

“You need to leave, now!” Your ears were ringing, and you were almost positive that someone had called the police due to all the noise, and if they did, you were hoping they would be at the house soon because you didn’t know if Weong-Bin was going to continue, or take your advice and leave. Finally, Weong-Bin scoffed. He walked over to where you, and yanked you up to your feet. Just as you tried to get your balance, he slammed his hand against the wall. “Stop.” You said quickly.

“Why? You’re not doing anything to stop me. Have you finally come to realize that you’re absolutely nothing without me? Are you going to apologize for what you’ve done to our daughter?”

“Please, stop.” You begged again.

“You know how much I hated this. I’m just as upset as you. But you need to finally fucking learn what happens when you talk to me that way when you try with all your might to destroy my family.” You were silent for a moment, and he slammed his hands against the wall again, making you shriek and shake in shock. “Well?! Answer me!”

“Someone’s going to call the cops.”

“So what? You’re not going to say anything. You never do~.” He smirked a devilish smirk that sent shivers down your spine. “I’ll see you tomorrow night to pick up the girls~.” He cooed. You blinked, watching him walk out the door. He slammed it shut, the sound making you flinch.

The apartment was now silent, and you finally walked back out into the living room. Looking around, you saw the flower pot that Weong-Bin had shattered against the wall. A hand raised and touched your cheek, and you felt your body was shaking. As you walked to the couch, your body collapsed onto it and you rolled over on your side, hiding your cheek that was still throbbing as you covered your face.

Hopefully, when you woke up, this would all just be a bad dream. Or at least, that your body would finally stop hurting.

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moldy-mold · 5 years

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Diary Post: My Thoughts and Processes on Making “Silent Strength” It’s lengthy, taking place over long period of time. Mainly written for my future-self to remember what I went through, but also for anyone who is curious. Now that the project is over, I can post without reservations. There are certain things I need to keep secret though, so if I’m vague I do so intentionally!

Basically, a lot of number-crunching, physical labor, and psychological labor.

It started off as kind of a joke tweet I made. I had enough content to make a Tales Of art book and people were receptive to it. So… I thought maybe I could go somewhere with this. A few weeks later, I suddenly had a lot of Kratos art. Like. 80% of all my Tales art was Kratos. It didn’t make sense to make a broad Tales Of book when really most of it was Kratos.

I hadn’t made a book since I was in college despite it being one of my favorite things to do. They were never art books, just some editorial design projects that totally didn’t count. This book… would be my first-ever art book.

Several times, I came close to having enough art to print a book - the last time was my large collection of Yusuke Kitagawa, but the quality wasn’t where I wanted. At that time, I was still experimenting with my iPad Pro and figuring out Procreate, so that was what I used him for.

NGL, I was pretty afraid of looking like a clown. After doing all this work, what if no one actually buys it? I was talking to some friends and they said they would buy it. It was enough for me. In the end, I’m creating something that I love. - The first thing I really wanted to work on was the cover. It needed to be epic but also mysterious (lol)… It was a good time to practice lighting and backgrounds. The cover had to be freaking Fantastic. I spent 3 days drawing nonstop. I was on vacation so I could spend full days just drawing. It was really intense. I would stop in the evenings to go for a run or else my legs would never get circulation again.

The hardest part was keeping it secret. I wanted to share it with the world right away bc I was so proud of it. Well, all I could do was show it to my parents and some close friends. They didn’t know who Kratos is, but it was obvious I was crazy about him.

Initially, I was doing some hand-lettering for the zine title instead of using a typeface. Tbh, I was so sure I was naming this zine “Blame Your Fate!” bc that is such an iconic line. But it just didn’t work with my cover, which looked… a little too serene for that. So… Silent Strength or Divine Strength? I asked around and got my answer.

But what size? All of my art has been on letter canvases. I wanted it to be large so you could see the details in the art. I’ll just start with that. - Luckily, I had all my Kratos-related art in one place. I started my InDesign file and threw everything in there just to see what it looked like. Man, I draw a lot of boxes… But I didn’t want them all next to each other. I also wanted to kinda organize it by the people Kratos hangs out with. There’s a Yuan section LOL… and a Lloyd section… and an Anna section. Idk, I tried to get some kind of order in there with a sprinkling of full spreads here and there to keep it fresh and interesting for the eyes.

I hadn’t worked with InDesign on such an intense level since college. I forgot all of the tips and tricks we learned in class. Spent some time reading on how to do things again… like adding page numbers. - I started drafting my pre-order form. It’s my first time making a google form like this. It’s kind of fun? I spent a long time on it, despite how simple it was. This was going to be my “Store” so it had to look and sound good. - My friend introduced me to charm-making. It seemed easy enough, and I wanted to give my zine more oomph. Besides, I’ve always wanted to make a charm.

I remember someone saying they’d buy a book of just the 4 Seraphim if it existed. I like them too and they lack art imo. In the end, I decided to do a polaroid charm. It’s not really that unique but I wanted Kratos to have actual friends to hang out with for once LOL.

She was going to do a group order to try to reduce the costs. I thought maybe 4 weeks would give me enough time. In the end she said I only have 2. I work well under pressure, so needless to say, I did make that deadline. I actually sketched the whole thing on the plane headed home. - After playing the game the second time, watching the OVA again, and reading “Offerings to a Star,” I have gained a real soft spot for Yuan. My friend once said, “If you weren’t stolen away by Kratos, you would be in love with Yuan.” Lol. I’ve been in a “Kratos and Yuan hanging out” mood lately, so of course I needed something good for the zine. They’re so cute together! Now… what is the bro-est thing I can draw?

I was currently in Florida for my friend’s wedding. I was friends with the groom and his best man since high school, so that makes it 10 years now. Seeing how they’re still friends after all this time, despite living in opposite sides of the country, was really moving to me. Of course, me being me, I could see Kratos and Yuan’s long friendship being similar to this, if they had gone to school together. I just had to draw it. - When I got back from vacation, I did some research on zine sizes. Mine was HUGE compared to others. I just didn’t quite realize it until I held a magazine in my hands. It really is huge…

I settled for a medium size. 7x9. I really liked how it looked. Petite but not too petite. Unfortunately resizing my book had messed up my artwork placement so I spent hours rearranging all the text and resizing my images. I found out afterwards that there’s a way to retain the format while changing the document size. Gee, that would have been helpful 4 hours ago.

Sadly, choosing a custom size booklet makes printing more expensive. But I wanted it badly enough that I’d be willing to pay for it. Letter size is just too large… - I decided to stop dragging my feet and post a promo. I just really needed a deadline for myself to get this all done before July ended. I’m happy it was well-received. A lot of people like Kratos huh…

Anyway, the pre-order is due in a week and I still don’t know what all the costs are yet. I need a physical proof ASAP to weigh at the post office! - Something possessed me one day to do another drawing. I don’t usually do painterly style (mainly because it’s really difficult and takes 10x longer) but I just REALLY wanted to push myself on this Final Piece to the zine. I wanted it to be… radiant. Almost religious. I worked on it obsessively. From breakfast to sundown. The only time I would stop was at 7pm to go running or else my legs would give out on me.

Call me crazy, but I would save my progress on my phone so I could examine it for errors during my warmup. I also spend an hour examining it for errors before going to bed. It’s a miracle I hadn’t dreamt of the painting. - I sent my files in on Sunday in hopes that they start working on it first thing on Monday…. and it HAPPENED! They finished before I even woke up. I think they start work at like 6am…

Of course, I drove over there as soon as I heard so I can get a look. “Please… please let the colors be okay,” I prayed as I was driving. I barely remember driving there, I was so lost in thought. It would be another long ordeal if I had to fix all the colors.

Thank the stars. The press proof looked BEAUTIFUL!! I was screaming to the client coordinator how much I loved it. I mean, I worried for a looooong time that everything would turn out too dark (it usually does) but it was PERFECT. I was especially worried about the cover, which contained a lot of yellow and I def did not want it to come out mustardy… But it was great in the end!

The press operator is a quiet man. He’s got a scary face and never smiles but I think he’s secretly nice. He has done a lot of favors for me in the past without my asking. He was the one to print, bind, and trim the book for me. Obviously he had to have seen what I was drawing. I wonder what he thought of it…? He walked away before I could express how happy and thankful was. He didn’t need to hear it. It was like he already knew. So cool…

I immediately took it to the post office to weigh it. I needed as much info as I could get and plus, I was dying to know for myself. This is the week I was supposed to open pre-orders and there was still a lot I needed to do. Take pictures, create mockups, pricing, etc.

NGL, all of these costs were building up fast. It was so darn expensive to make a zine while also keeping prices down. But I wanted so much more for my baby. Extra glossy cover, perfect binding!! I knew by the end of this, I probably wouldn’t make much money. It hurt a little, but I tried to think that it was for the greater good. Learning experience and all that. And creating something beautiful. Especially something beautiful of Kratos. - Pricing was really the hardest part. I pretty much threw profit out the window. However, I definitely did not want to be losing money. My dad and I had worked together to create a spreadsheet of expenses to make sure my head was above water. I followed it… loosely.

My friend came to talk to me at the right moment. I was sort of panicking at the prices. She made me realize I was thinking way too hard about it and gave me some tips based on her own experience. It really put my mind at ease talking to someone who understands my woes.

The truth of the matter is, the book is wonderfully made and has a lot of pages - countless hours of drawing. There is only so much I can do about pricing. It is what it is… I just needed to come to terms with my own worth. - Boy, what am I going to do once the zine is done? My friend says that I’ll be so over Kratos that I’ll stop drawing him (but the love remains). It’s like… all of the intense planning, working, struggling nonstop will just suddenly… stop. TBH, I’m running out of ideas. I spent it all on the zine. - Photoshoot today. I had to paint my nails purple for this occasion. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get the look I wanted in the apartment. It’s just so naked without props. I think I’ll take it to a cafe for some nicer backgrounds. I talked it over with my friend and decided to do a quick flip-through of the zine as a promotional video. I used the most professional video program I had on hand… Snapchat. It actually turned out pretty legit and of course I slapped stickers on there because it’s Snapchat.

I had to tape/hide some of the pages for the video because I wasn’t actually done with the drawings. I had the printers print it anyway so I could examine it for color accuracy.

I’m really stressed about pricing now. It turns out I had a lot more international fans than I anticipated. I wish I took notes on interest earlier in the game to cater to them. I had a list of “possible buyers” and I only just now decided to check where they live? Foolish.

I did another cost analysis on paper to figure out what my goal was to make up for the charms. Right now they’ve cost me a fortune for something that was supposed to be giveaway. Other things that rack up are packaging costs, PayPal fees, and some other supplies I needed for this project.

Maybe I shouldn’t have made it 40 pages. It is an impressive number, but no one is really paying for quantity. I think 25 is a better number lol. If I had done that, I could have had my super-gloss cover like I wanted. :’(

There is hope though. And I’ve placed it in the hands of my followers to come through for me. I think I’ll open pre-orders on Saturday or Sunday, depending on what I finish. - “Losing your cool will only lead to poor decisions.”  Thanks, Kratos twitter bot. You always know what to say.

I read this post today on what makes people buy zines. Very interesting!  https://twitter.com/andythelemon_/status/1141469048653398019 - Photoshoot part 2 today. My friend and I went to a cafe nearby that had some nice atmosphere in hopes of finding the right shots. I brought all of my Kratos merch just in case. I’m glad I did though, since the tables were pretty sparse and it was difficult to capture the backgrounds without getting a bunch of random people in it too.

I would have been the photographer, but I definitely wanted my hands in the shots. In a way, it was meaningful - to show that this was made by my own two hands. Plus, I wanted to depict natural interaction with the product. It made it feel real.

The photos were cute! I feared it would look a little amateurish with all the merch in there, but I think fun was what I was really going for, not “professional.” And plus the flip-through was a Snap anyway LOL. As long as the photos have good lighting and tasteful composition, you really can’t go wrong with “fun.”

Now that I’ve finished editing my photos, there really isn’t anything holding me back from opening pre-orders. I’ve pretty much come to terms with my pricing. If I fail to break even, I’ll just have to open commissions to try to make up for it. I was telling my friend on the way home, “I gave this zine EVERYTHING I had to give. So at the very least, I won’t be disappointed in myself.” No stone left unturned, no detail left unchecked. It was perfect according to my standards. I really love my zine okay?!

I thought I was crazy for not only choosing a small fandom, I narrowed it down even further by picking ONE GUY to make this zine about. She replied, “Even if it’s small, those people who love him now must be EXTREMELY LOYAL to still be in love with a character from a 15-year-old game. All of them will want your zine.” - I went to bed that night with the intention of making the pre-order post live in the morning. I was so nervous I couldn’t sleep. I was wide awake until at least 5 or 6 am. Luckily, I was able to doze off for a an hour or two before I would shake myself awake again. It was a mixture of anxiety and excitement. It was the moment of truth - to see if all my effort made a difference. Was it going to sell? - The pre-order post looked really freaking good. I’ll give it that. I even made a YT account just to post that darn preview video on tumblr lol. It was definitely fun seeing everyone’s excitement and we all just freaked out together.

I broke even! That’s what really matters. Honestly at this point, I couldn’t care less if I made profit or not. I now know how much people really like the zine and that alone made me so happy I could die.

I was particularly fascinated at Google Form’s ability to transfer all the data collected into a spreadsheet. That is extremely helpful. I spent hours organizing the data. It was really fun…?! Now I can tell who gets invoiced and who paid and separate them into categories. IT’S FANTASTIC!

Stayed up late researching how much adding tracking could be. I had a slight panic attack thinking “what if my books got lost in transit?” It would really hurt me to have to reprint books and ship them again. And then I realized I will need to fill out customs forms for all international orders. Yikes, I’m gonna be living at the post office lol. You can print them out at home if you fill out the form online but there are still some things I’m uncertain about. I may visit the post office later this week to ask all my questions. - This morning I sent out everyone’s invoices. I gave the international people the option to purchase tracking. It’s expensive… but I need to provide that option just in case.

I received a nice message from someone who offered to advertise for me on Instagram. Of course, I gave them the OK! I’m really so shocked they would do that… They said the liked the zine so much it deserved more exposure. My dude… I love you… T_T

I thought about advertising on insta myself earlier in the week. For some reason I felt it was going to be fruitless since I don’t have an art account on there with a following. So, I gave up on the idea. Hey it worked out in the end.

I’ve never been so organized in my entire life. I want this zine experience to be perfect. The people have placed their trust in me, so I cannot mess up. - Edited some pages in the zine. The typography must be perfect… It made me think back to undergrad days in graphic design school. Man, if only I can present this as a project - photos, videos, matching accessories and all. I’d probably get an A lol. - Orders slow down after the first day. The rest is just about getting new people to see the post and giving other people more time to decide.

I finished my Kratos stationery today. It’s going to be so cute. My friend said people would want to buy it but I don’t have it in me to do more products at this time. Plus, I want it to be a surprise.

Why make stationery? Well my real job (no, I don’t draw Kratos all day for a living) is a stationery designer! It would feel really wrong not to put into practice what etiquette I’ve learned in this business. Plus, I felt that it was necessary to properly thank all those who ordered. And it’s fun?

I started designing the shipping labels for the domestic orders since I don’t need to fill out a customs form for those. I wish I had sticker labels but… it’s okay. It will still look good in the end. - Every so often, I would get nervous at the amount of money I’m responsible for. Perhaps, if I had a store with existing products I wouldn’t feel this way, but the fact that the books haven’t been printed yet made me scared. I know, I need this money to even print the books in the first place, but I’m just baffled at my customers’ trust in almost a total stranger. I felt pressured that I could not let them down and lose that trust. It probably didn’t help that I watched a documentary on Elizabeth Holmes (Theranos) that day.

So, I prayed every single day that nothing would go wrong. I’d check my spreadsheet constantly for any mistakes. It was a little obsessive, but I would rather be that than overlook something.

I began collecting cardboard boxes. My plan was to cut them up to protect the books during transit. I would have preferred hard envelopes but they were a bit pricey. If I have to do more work myself, so be it.

I’ve been getting nice DMs from some buyers. I think my invoice due date scared them… I really did not intend to be strict, but I wanted people to pay now if they can rather than forget about it. This happens at work all the time, so the best thing to do is have it due immediately. It would not look good to have to wait on stragglers when I close pre-orders, so I’ll probably reach out when there is one week left. - My Kratos stationery arrived! Aww it is SO CUTE!!! My babies… I have a lot of notes to write so I got started right away. It’s going to be a lot of work trying to come up with creative ways to say “thank you,” but I don’t mind. I said I was going to put my all into the zine experience so I will.

At long last, the charm order has been put in motion. My friend said it could take a while… I hope it won’t be longer than 3 weeks. I really do not want to keep everyone waiting. I may ship out the ones who did not win a charm first. I mean, there is no reason to make those guys wait. I should ask the charm winners if they still want to wait and see if anyone wants to give it up for someone else who is more patient. Hm. - I finally stopped by the post office today to collect customs forms. I have my work cut out for me since I’m filling all of them in by hand. D:

I’m not used to international addresses so I think I’ll ask for help in checking them for spelling errors and typos. Heaven forbid I mess up on the very last part of the zine experience.

In my nervousness, I decided to reach out about invoices early on. If someone wanted to cancel, I would rather find out sooner rather than later. Everyone was really nice about paying and thank goodness they’re still excited.

Feeling kind of overwhelmed by all the things I need to do, but it’s a good thing. If I don’t know what to do, I can either: cut cardboard, write letters, type shipping labels, draw more Kratos for a… possible volume 2? Someone I talked to today already said they’ll pre-order a second book if I make one. Omg I think I’ll die. But we’ll see. It’s just a joke right now haha… - Preorders end today. I had another nightmare last night that the books could not be printed properly and there was nothing I could do. Why do I keep getting nightmares about the zine! I had one a few days before about people canceling their orders when I asked them about the invoices. I’ll take these dreams with a grain of salt. I’m probably just stressed/worried but everything is going to be okay. When I open my eyes, nothing is on fire.

I received my final proof a few days ago. With all of the artwork completed and changes applied. The book looks good, no doubt about it. There was only one thing I was nit-picky about but it can be fixed. The press operator offered to print another book for me to inspect. I’ll go see it on Monday and then submit the rest of the orders. I also asked to to have a meeting with the press operator so we are on the same page. It would be beneficial to have an understanding of how my book is made so that I may be more helpful to him.

I spent the day preparing shipping labels. I hate to admit, I am not too familiar with the format international addresses so I had an address validator open as I was typing them in. For the most part, everyone was helpful in already formatting their addresses in the preorder form! - My parents called me the day after preorders were closed. They wanted to say congratulations on my success. No one thought it would do this well. I couldn’t be offended by that since I was also guilty of it. I’m happy though. It feels like my love spread across the world and was contagious.

I tried to think of what advice I would give to others. Obviously, genuine love for the subject and hard work were a necessity. But it would be good to consider value. If I were selling it at this price, I had to make sure my pieces and presentation looked the part. I ask myself, if someone else sold it, would I buy it?

I sent out messages to all the charm winners in the morning. I wanted to apologize profusely at the ridiculous amount of time it has taken to get them made. But no, I’ve got to stop apologizing. I stated the facts and left it at that. Everyone was really kind and patient⁠—to which I was thankful for. I don’t usually get that when I’m working customer service. - All the books were done printing in one day. Wow! I went to pick it up immediately of course. I can’t believe all of this is coming to an end. I finished preparing the mailers. All that was left was to stuff and seal the domestic orders. They were the easiest to do so I’m going to ship those first. The rest will need customs forms, which I haven’t filled out just yet. It’s going to be a while for those…

The mailers were quite sturdy with the cardboard cutouts I slipped in them. I have nothing to worry about. I’m sure my babies will be okay! - I took a whole box of domestic orders to the post office today. Wasn’t sure what to expect. But my clerk had to input every single address one at a time while I checked for errors. Omg, why are the post office shipping labels SO HUGE. I thought it was going to be half the size. And they’re ruining my designer labels! Slight panic but oh well…

I had a long long line behind me. I’m so sorry, people. Luckily there were two clerks or I would be really sweating. Despite my intimidating box of zines, the clerk and I had Synergy and we managed to ship all of these in about 15 minutes. I received a very long receipt and quite the bill lol. - Shipped the international orders today. I was kind of a mess since I had no idea what to do. I keep wondering if I can help speed up the process in any way but I don’t think I have the option to ship first-class at home.

When shipping international, keep the post office copy of the customs forms together with the package since they use that to type the address info into the system. Also, we get free tracking, which I did not know about. The other clerk told me that we did not get tracking for international first-class but I guess he was misinformed. It’s good to know for next time. - The charms finally arrived!! And THEY’RE HOLOGRAPHIC?! It was pretty awesome, but it makes picture-taking kind of difficult!! Anyway, I was a tiny bit disgruntled that they got my order incorrect, and I even asked for a reprint. But they said no, so I left it at that. Besides, it seems the holographic effect was well-received.

I like this size that I made. It’s really cute! Larger than your normal charm but not too huge. It’s almost like an Instax photo! - There was one customer who I found lives near me! I asked her if she wanted me to hand-deliver it to her in a public setting and she agreed (to my amazement). We finally met a few days ago and talked for hours and hours lol! I’m glad to have finally made a new friend here in this town but of course she’s moving away in two weeks. <:’3

We’re going to meet again to make the most of her time left. - I shipped the rest of the orders on the following Monday. I HAD to get these out. The poor guys have been waiting over a month! I think I picked a bad time to go because I had a huge line behind me and only one guy working. People in line were getting antsy or mad. The clerk at the other post office was super fast but not this guy…

For some reason shipping to the UK and Japan nearly doubled in price since the last time I checked. RIP. T_T - Omg I finally made a mistake. I wrote a letter to the wrong person. And the contents of that letter are too personalized!!! I am dying of embarrassment!!!!! Screams!! Had to apologize to both customers too!!! Luckily they were good sports about it but I’m seriously kicking myself AAAAAAAA!!!! - The most rewarding part after sending all my babies away is seeing the commentary on my project. It is so so nice to receive positive feedback. People are happy! Happy with something I created out of thin air. Everything was worth it 1000 times over. I can die happy!

I’m especially thankful to those who show understanding for how much effort went into it. It definitely wasn’t easy and I poured way too many hours into it… not that I regret that.

I don’t want to jump the gun but I would really love to make a volume 2. Because I know I can do better than last time. New and improved art and comics! But we’ll see if I make enough pieces for another book. I was against printing 40 pages before but now I kind of like it. It feels more worth it than a 25-page zine. If i’m going though so much effort, might as well bring in the entire package.

I’ll be printing more of this volume for Aselia Con 2020. Now I know people will appreciate it.

#diary

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welcometojoelsvoid · 6 years

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My ocs explained: Voidverse

A friend of mine asked me to tell about my ocs, and since there a lot of them and this will be long and tumblr messages won't let me send the whole thing, so I decided to make a post dedicated to it.

This post won't have pictures of my ocs because I'm lazy, but if you're interested there's a tab on my blog called "My characters", which has their pictures and their tags.

So, to get the more complicated things cleared out, I have this group of characters I call the "alts", basically, they're alternate versions of myself. One is always based on an aspect of my personality, which I then turn into said alt. A new one is usually born whenever I make one for a new fandom or universe.

Ps. This isn't all of them, there are a few minor characters and wips that I left out because this would become waaayyyy longer than needed. These characters belong in a group I call the "Voidverse", which are the characters that I consider to be the main characters of this storyline (some of my ocs live in different realms and realities, etc). I might make another oc megapost about the other verses if you guys want.

~~~~~~~

Classic the Demon (he/him), 24

My "main" alt, who is also my persona on the internet is called Classic the Demon (they all have nicknames since most of them usually share my name). Classic is kinda the leader of the alts, he's the one who usually gets to join a new verse if I haven't made a new alt specifically for that verse.

Classic's powers include telekinesis, teleportation, offensive spells and the summoning of a weapon (in this case; a sword) and a pair of wings. Classic has this so-called "pocket dimension" that he accesses via his magic. This dimension is where he stores a bunch of random stuff from clothing to food to sketchbooks. Also, because he's so extra, whenever he summons his sword he kinda swipes his right hand from left to right once while his sword materializes from dark energy, just for dramatic flair.

Like most demons, Classic is also capable of collecting souls through contracts, though Classic had "retired" from doing said contracts.

Classic was born in a Renaissance-era like time period in a small hidden village of demons. The village was very small with only a few houses and a post office. Classic's family consisted of Classic himself, his mother and father. Although his father had left when Classic was an infant for an unknown reason. Therefore Classic was solely raised by his mother.

Classic's only friends in the village was another boy his age named Eemeli and a person called "the Guard". The Guard lived at the edge of the small town, whose job was to protect it from the dangers of the grand forest right next to them. Classic looked up to the Guard, for she was one of the strongest people he knew. His favourite memory of her was when she fought a bear with her bare hands.

Eemeli, on the other hand, was an adventures child much like Classic, though not as reckless. He had a family of two (2) parents and four (4) siblings.

(But of course, because this is a character made by yours truly, there is a lot of edge and angst)

At the age of 13, Classic's village was attacked by a troupe of human soldiers. They burned the houses and slaughtered the people. With the help of his mother, he had survived. Classic had passed out during the attack and once he woke up he couldn't believe his eyes. Everything was destroyed and burnt to the ground, including the people he held so near and dear to his heart. Classic didn't know what to do, so he wandered aimlessly until he reached a town of humans. Traumatised and blinded by hate, he killed everyone and anyone he saw and when he reached the castle he stabbed the king to death with a dagger that had appeared in his hands, which would later on, as he got older, form into the dark sword that it is today.

Classic was "rescued" by a group of angels and was brought into their home in the sky. No, not heaven, but a floating island. He hadn't told them exactly what happened, not that he was all that able to because of the shock of it all. Though the angels did not press on the subject, clearly aware of his discomfort.

The family he was living with had one (1) child, Ale, a pink haired angel with greenish eyes. The two of them instantly became close friends and through that friendship considered each other siblings. Growing up in a community of angels as a demon was tough, but most of them were very accepting of Classic.

Though, with time he became restless. He wanted to go somewhere, do something. But he didn't know where nor what.

At the age of 19, Classic and Ale packed their bags and went to see the world. And through this adventure, they became face to face with Death, literally. On their adventure, Ale had been hurt severally and Classic in desperation tried with all his might to help them. He turned to soul stealing harvesting and contract work to earn currency, souls paid well with witches and faeries. Unfortunately, he couldn't earn enough in time or get any help. Ale had died of sickness and Classic ever since blamed himself.

His journey alone took him to many places, but he was always alone. Until he met a certain someone, but more about that later.

Classic himself is a cocky yet charming personality, not really in love with himself but absolutely adores praise and loves being in the spotlight (when he wants to, otherwise attention from a lot of people make him anxious). He's the one I made the most like myself, so ultimately he has the same issues; depression, anxiety, ADD and sociopathic tendencies. Of course, pretty much every alt have more or less these traits, some show them more, some don't.

He's a loyal friend and cares for his loved ones, good with a sword and has good problem-solving skills and critical thinking, but he lacks the sense of responsibility sometimes and gets very paranoid about not being good enough. He's very forgetful and has a hard time understanding complex things like math, geology and physics but has a talent for arts, language and philosophy. He's not in touch with his owns feelings but can tell when someone else is upset, anxious or lying. He's very unused to affection and compliments, often deeming himself not worthy of them but tries his best to stay positive.

Jojo (he/they), 23

Jojo is an easily excitable and reckless half-dead demon living in a post-apocalyptic setting. Jojo doesn't have magical abilities, though, they lost them alongside his horns and tail after committing suicide before he was brought back to life.

He likes brights colours, stuffed animals, motorcycles and most importantly; explosives.

Jojo had lost a part of their hearing and vision to a malfunctioning bomb, had been lucky that in a tight spot the last of his magical ability had protected all but a small portion of the side of his head, face and neck.

His left leg was lost in a fight. Jojo had seen a young girl being kidnapped, followed the kidnappers and fought them, rescuing the kidnapped children and losing his leg to an axe. This had happened before the war.

Even in crude conditions, Jojo believes that positivity can get you through anything. His blatant naïtivity can often cause him to trust the wrong people but make no mistake, Jojo is no fool and can quickly regain his composure and build up his walls. Jojo is a very social person and can easily get along with anyone, although can sometimes get a tad too excited and accidentally say and do something rather awkward. They always try to make up for hurt feeling, tough. Jojo is also big on taking risks and can often put themselves in dangerous situations.

As mentioned previously Jojo is a bomb fanatic and loves explosives and explosions. He taught himself to make his own bombs and frag launcher, many of which malfunctioned in various ways.

He doesn't remember much about his childhood, his memory fading alongside the scars on his body. He just remembers having a good family and he's fine with that. Jojo is also one of the only alts who drinks and smokes (they smoke pot, don't like cigarettes much). He's overall a pretty chill dude when he's not jumping from place to place and blowing stuff up.

He's also the one who shows the most clearly symptoms of ADHD.

He's a smart boy who's a bit clumsy sometimes.

A wholesome boy. A very sweet boy.

Invite him to every party because he's never been to one but really wants to. Good with kids, animals and knows how to make broccoli taste good. (Not good with elders and other fragile things that break easily)

10/10

282-J aka J/Jay (they/them), 22

282-J, the one that is actually not even a demon.

J's power is "teleportation" via light. They can turn themselves into light particles and move a few meters to the direction of their choosing. So J cannot use this power in places without some kind of light source, though the illumination of a phone or TV, etc, is not enough. J also cannot move through solid matter, like walls and doors.

J was born into "captivity" in a science lab (Oh, yes, it's "science labs are evil" trope time!). This science lab was fixated on mutants and mutation, so I relate J to the Marvel universe (because X-Men).

From birth J had lived in that facility, being experimented on every single day. Some weren't bad, like seeing how long of a distance J can teleport for example, but some are excruciating, as when J would go days without being fed or being locked in a dark and tight room for weeks, even months! It all took its toll on J's fragile body.

Once the lab crew injected an adrenaline type drug into J's bloodstream and locked him in a small room for three (3) days straight, when a staff member was sent to retrieve J's seemingly passed out body, they had bitten into the man's arm and in response got an elbow to the chest. J coughed up blood and couldn't breathe, actually passing out this time. When J woke up they were in their own room; padded, white walls and the one-way glass in front. J felt their own breath on their face and when J reached to touch their own face, they felt what seemed like a gas mask of sorts and tried to fumble with it to take it off. The voice from the speakers told that the gas mask had two (2) benefits; it restrained J from biting the staff again and it kept J, themselves, alive. Apparently one of J's lungs had received a lot of damage from the incident and the lab crew could not entirely fix it, so a special gas mask would have to do.

J is very timid and does not speak often nor raise their voice. They're very awkward in social situations and get overwhelmed by large groups of people and loud noises. Though J can be brave and courageous when they want to and they're also a quick thinker and rather clever.

Cappy the Capricorn (she/her), 300+

Ah, yes, Cappy the Capricorn- or Cappy the Zodiac demon. The one person you wouldn't invite to your family gatherings.

She is a Zodiac demon and her powers focus mostly on controlling the water element. Another skill of her's is knowing how to cut her own hair using seashells and other sharp objects found on the seafloor. She's a very calm person with a professional-seeming personality, but she can be a bit "inappropriate", so to say.

She's a siren-like creature and when underwater her legs turn into a fishtail. She very much enjoys tricking unsuspecting men into their tombs and seducing women into sleeping with her, though to the fair lass she shall do no harm (In other words; she's a lesbian). Her magic is very powerful, but she isn't a fighter- she doesn't want to waste her time on petty brawling. Although if not left alone when asked, she won't hesitate to use violence as her saviour.

Unfortunately, there isn't much to tell about her background, for it does not exist because I am a lazy sonovabitch who doesn't think through their characters' backstories.

But Cappy is not really that much of a "macho sex object with no personality" (I hope), for in actuality she's a real softy. She's all smooth and clever in seduction and all that sexy stuff, but when a cute girl compliments her, she blushes like crazy and gets all flustered. If she ever would develop a crush on some poor soul, that poor soul would have to deal with a very nervous and stuttering mountain sea goat.

From 1 to 10 I'd rate Cappy a 5/10 on the friendship scale. Not that she's an evil person or whatever, she just doesn't know how to properly act around people (living at the bottom of the sea for hundreds of years will do that to ya, I suppose...). She, however, is very supportive and helpful whenever the people she considers her friends are having a hard time (especially about their own appearance, she ain't having none of it).

The Voidkeeper (she/they), ???

The Voidkeeper, the eldest one- mostly because their age cannot be comprehended for it simultaneously does and does not exist.

The Voidkeeper is half-blind, half-death and selectively mute. She is also a sociopath and does not feel empathy nor sympathy (or feelings, at all).

And most important, they are dead. I mean no heartbeat, rotten insides, dried out blood kind of dead.

She was banished to what is called the Void when she committed suicide. See, demons cannot be killed, only trapped in artefacts or returned to the Underworld, but a demon has the ability to take their own life, but it is not without punishment. When a demon commits suicide they are banished and assigned to a task which they will carry out for the rest of eternity. This one was assigned to look after the Void, a fruitless task for it is empty and barren. The only thing that happens is that every millennia a new book appears in the Void to give some sort of entertainment to the Voidkeeper.

On very rare occasion a poor soul might accidentally either wander or be sent to the Void and it is the Voidkeeper's duty then forward to guide the wanderer where they were supposed to go. Every time something, or someone, appears in the Void the Voidkeeper is alerted by the soul stone they carry. This stone, as prompted by the name, is in a way the Voidkeeper's soul, which they cannot ever regain. It is their life source and their source of power. The Voidkeeper is not allowed to ever be violent, so the soul stone only grants them defensive powers. In this case the ability to heal and create protective forcefields.

The Voidkeeper cannot physically ever enter the realm of the living, but with the aide of someone very powerful, they are granted to walk amongst the living as a ghost of sorts. They, however, cannot be touched by the living.

The Voidkeeper is very silent and intelligent. They know more than you'd expect, but will never tell you what you want to know. Only what you need to know, which in itself is not much. She prefers to observe others as they go about their life whenever she isn't reading, other than that there isn't much to her.

Inquisitor Lotus Draqon (he/him), 23.5

The alt for the da:i fandom and my most recent alt.

He's very peculiar in the sense that he was born from the merged souls of Classic and a dragon called Jupiter. No one is sure how this happened but one-day Classic had disappeared. It took a long time to find where he was and the answer was very surprising.

Now with his soul living in as in another person's body, Classic was trapped in a frozen state in another pocket dimension with Jupiter. This meant that as long as Lotus was intact or alive, Classic would not himself be present and neither would Jupiter.

Classic's soul gave Lotus many of the abilities that he himself has, telekinesis, illusion magic, weapon and wing summoning, etc. And Lotus as a person is fairly similar to Classic, some of the differences being Lotus' dragon attributes; his scales, tail, the sword is rather different, bigger horns and bigger wings (and a bigger appetite).

Lotus is also more innocent leaning and shyer. And unlike Classic, isn't such a good swordsman (he gets better with time tho).

Similarly to Classic, Lotus isn't very independent and often depends a lot on the people around him for help and advice. They both also have a giant sweet tooth and love animals. And they both stutter, have trouble pronouncing some words and have motor and verbal ticks (whenever Lotus yawns, burps, gets excited, happy or is frightened he goes "woof!", Classic just makes weird demon noises. Their motor ticks are pretty much the same, twitchy hands, neck and whole damn body).

Though Lotus is more prone to seek out simulation, tapping his claws against a table, playing with his hair and tail and pressing his toe beans. Classic mostly plays with his hair and his shirt sometimes. Also because of dyslexia, they both often have jumbled words when speaking, though with Lotus it's stronger and for him, reading is harder. Lotus is more willing to take risks and go out on an adventure, he has very strong legs and wings that can carry him for hours. And in general Lotus' health is better than Classic's, he's learned to cope with his problems better and cares for himself more.

Also, laser pointers totally work on him.

~~~~~~~

Now, let's get to the other characters in my verse.

Katy Huerta (she/her), 38-41

A retired Special Task Force agent called back on the field after suspicious and unknown signals had started appearing out of nowhere. They were most likely of a supernatural origin and agent Huerta was assigned on the job. Katy is a skilled and headstrong woman with experience with supernatural forces. As a young child, her body is shared by her and a power fire spirit. She can control fire and use it as a weapon, as well as turn into fire herself.

Turns out that classic had been causing waves of magic which turned to signals as he made his way to this world and travelled around it. At the time he was 19 years old. Katy wasn't sure how to approach him as she found him walking around abandoned buildings but she knew she couldn't kill or arrest him, he hadn't done anything wrong. So she took him in. Taught him, mentored him, took care of him. Katy doesn't have much knowledge about magic but she taught him how to use his sword, how to use his mind and how to use his heart. Classic would follow her around like a puppy, mostly because HQ didn't fully trust a demon to walk around by himself. They respected Katy a great deal, but we're very unsure of this decision. Katy didn't care, though, she was sure. Katy's heart is as big as her muscles and just as strong, she never gave up on that boy and she's glad she didn't. She found a lifelong friend and a trusted partner. She was like a mother to him.

Katy is what I like to call the "bridger", she's usually the bridge between the different universes and dimensions. I gave her full knowledge of the different alts, what they are and what they mean. Whenever there's a new alt, she informs the others and looks over the new one, deciding whether or not they should be cautious and stay away or if they can be invited to the "inner circle".

The day when Classic had his soul transferred and himself trapped was something Katy wasn't sure how to take action, she had no idea who "Lotus" was and what kind of alt they were (you can never know, even the nice sounding ones can be mean and the world they live in might not be able to handle Katy's presence). She took a risk and bridged into the world of Thedas to handle the situation.

Coraline Daniel (she/her), 65.5

The pretty typical vampire oc, I'd say.

Coraline is a carefree soul who enjoys being a mysterious shadow in the back of people's minds. One day she's here, another day she's gone. She doesn't burn in the sunlight but her powers weaken a lot, which includes mind control, teleportation and flight.

A true lady and a primadonna; never settles for second best, Coraline is a beauty and rarity and uses it to her advantage. Many people are slow to notice she's already sucking the blood out of their veins, her victims helplessly falling into her traps and under her spell.

All except one.

Agent Katy Huerta; the STF's favourite puppet; a saviour; a righteous knight; a woman of high regard and the only one to catch Coraline's eye. She had been assigned to search for the reason behind recent murders (Coraline's doing, of course) and had successfully tracked the culprit down. Coraline was surprised that her normal tactics hadn't worked and this piqued her interest. Ever since their first meeting, they seemed to bump into each other quite often. It was a classic game of cat and mouse, with a lot more flirting though. And they both seemed to enjoy it.

Coraline could never trap her and she could never catch Coraline in return. Neither of them wanted to. Or did, but the meaning behind it had changed.

Katy would track the vampire to her next destination, catch her red-handed, they'd fight, steal kisses in between and Katy would watch her disappear into the night. It became routine, tradition. Routine was broken when Katy asked her for a date before she could run off again, caught by surprise but regaining composure Coraline accepted. Katy brought her a silver ring as a gift to their date, it was a simple gesture that meant something more to them both.

Akachi (they/them), 12

Akachi was found in Western-Africa, alone and unconscious in a cryochamber at an old hospital. The child was in a deep coma and appeared to have lizard-like attributes. Files showed that they were there because of an illness that threatened to take their life, but nothing else could be recovered.

The STF team took them back to America to take care of them, but no one was sure what should be done. Should they be given up for adoption? Surely that couldn't be safe for the child. Luckily STF's golden girl Katy Huerta stepped up to take care of the child, adopting them. The child's name is Akachi, was what she was told, they were found abandoned and appear to be intersex. And so the child was given in to her care. Once home, Classic had been very curious about the child. They decided to take care of Akachi together.

Back then Akachi had been just 4 years old and they didn't appear to have any memories before the hospital, so adapting wasn't the most difficult thing. Akachi is a gentle soul and a very curious child, very imaginative. Akachi was placed in a special program when starting school, normal school being a distant thought but they got there eventually.

Akachi is very excited about new things, very excited to learn and experience things. Although Katy tries to keep them away from tough adventures, sometimes by accident a certain demon cannot resist the puppy-eyes. Akachi is all too happy to meet new people, they always dream of having a big family and they do consider the alts to be family.

Elizabeth Hart aka Wolfy Heart (she/her), 27

Quite literally my oldest oc, I'm fairly sure that Wolfy was the first oc that I ever made and she's come such a long way since then.

Wolfy is the daughter of a rich German family, not that it matters but I'm just laying down random facts at this point, she grew up fairly similarly to everyone else though, she wasn't spoiled and her parents were very good at parenting and were decent people.

Wolfy is a very motherly person and takes care of her friends a lot, she loves socialising and cooking and is very good at playing the harp. She's very curious and blushes easily, she's very modest. She likes spending time with animals and children and is very creative and fashionable. She's compassionate and wants what's best for everyone, she's a little naïve in that sense.

Wolfy had been good friends with Katy (through a mutual friend) even before Classic came around. And Wolfy was more than happy to welcome him with open arms and warm cupcakes! Wolfy's also like an aunt to Akachi who she also welcomed with open arms and warm cupcakes.

Idk dudes I love Wolfy, she's been there for me through many years and seen some shit, she's amazing, she sometimes makes her own clothes and really likes turtles.

Quality werewolf, would bark again

Katja Storm aka Kstorm (mostly she/they but he is also fine), 30

Kstorm is also a very old character of mine (like Wolfy and Katy), she's been through many changes and I'm finally happy with where she is!

Kstorm is the oldest of (3) three children, she's half Spanish half Korean and she's a DJ and quite enjoys making music. I imagine her style is similar to Porter Robinson but maybe a bit more bass heavy (I just love Porter Robinson y'all)

She's dating a girl named Kayna (Kstorm calls her Kaykay uwu), who's best friends with Wolfy and by correlation, she got invited to the Cool Kids club B)

Kstorm herself is a witch and when Classic came around she got pretty excited (but like low-key, cuz she's cool like that), tbh Kstorm was a big help with assisting Classic to handle and control his magic. While Katy is very agitated about spreading the knowledge about bridging and the alts, but she trusts this group of people.

Kstorm doesn't go on adventures or jump through dimensions much, too busy working but she asks to get herbs and cool artefacts and talismans whenever the others do go.

Kstorm is a cool and collected person, she doesn't like drama and doesn't want to make a big deal out of things, especially if it isn't. She went to medical school to become a nurse before turning into a fulltime DJ and she often puts together charity events at the club she performs at. She's generally loved by her community, though there has been drama and people trying to ruin her name. She lost some of her fans after coming out as genderfluid and pansexual but regained a large following of very supportive followers and fans.

Taika (they/them), ???

Taika is a tall, cat-like forest spirit who came from a very monochrome and old realm, they came to the human realm to experience colour, loudness and life for what it could be.

They don't have a mouth (or nose) so they can't speak and when they were born their limbs were deformed so now they have prosthetic arms and legs (luckily the forest spirits are pretty handy).

Taika is a very innocent and optimistic creature, very curious about humans and other beings.

Taika especially loves a lot of what humans have created and relishes in their culture with loud music, dyed hair, ripped jeans and technology.

Now, Taika doesn't really belong in the Voidverse, but I love them so much that I had to mention them cuz they're literally so precious.

#classic the demon ((joel))#jojo ((joel))#282 ((joel))#cappy the capricorn ((joel))#the voidkeeper ((joel))#lotus dragon ((joel))#everyone's mom ((katy))#your sexy problematic fave ((coraline))#reptile child ((akachi))#she's a pony ((kstorm))#sweet cinnamon child ((taika))#oc #ocs #my characters #voidverse #jojowritesthings

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fyp-psychology · 7 years

Text

33 Unusual Tips to Being a Better Writer

via James Altucher

Back in college, Sanket and I would hang out in bars and try to talk to women but I was horrible at it.

Nobody would talk to me for more than thirty seconds and every woman would laugh at all his jokes for what seemed like hours.

Even decades later I think they are still laughing at his jokes. One time he turned to me,

“the girls are getting bored when you talk. Your stories go on too long. From now on, you need to leave out every other sentence when you tell a story.”

We were both undergrads in Computer Science. I haven’t seen him since but that’s the most important writing (and communicating) advice I ever got.

33 other tips to be a better writer:

A) Write whatever you want. Then take out the first paragraph and last paragraph

Here’s the funny thing about this rule. It’s sort of like knowing the future. You still can’t change it. In other words, even if you know this rule and write the article, the article will still be better if you take out the first paragraph and the last paragraph.

B) Take a huge bowel movement every day

You won’t see that on any other list on how to be a better writer. If your body doesn’t flow then your brain won’t flow. Eat more fruit if you have to.

C) Bleed in the first line

We’re all human. A computer can win Jeopardy but still not write a novel. If you want people to relate to you, then you have to be human.

Penelope Trunk started a post a few weeks ago:

“I smashed a lamp over my head. There was blood everywhere. And glass. And I took a picture.”

That’s real bleeding. My wife recently put up a post where the first line was so painful she had to take it down. Too many people were crying.

D) Don’t ask for permission

In other words, never say “in my opinion” (or worse “IMHO”). We know it’s your opinion. You’re writing it.

E) Write a lot

I spent the entire 90s writing bad fiction. 5 bad novels. Dozens of bad stories. But I learned to handle massive rejection. And how to put two words together. In my head, I won the pulitzer prize. But in my hand, over 100 rejection letters.

F) Read a lot

You can’t write without first reading. A lot. When I was writing five bad novels in a row I would read all day long whenever I wasn’t writing (I had a job as a programmer, which I would do for about five minutes a day because my programs all worked and I just had to “maintain” them). I read everything I could get my hands on.

G) Read before you write

Before I write every day I spend 30-60 minutes reading high quality short stories poetry, or essays. Here are some authors to start:

Denis Johnson

Miranda July

David Foster Wallace

Ariel Leve

William Vollmann

Raymond Carver

All of the writers are in the top 1/1000 of 1% of writers. What you are reading has to be at that level or else it won’t lift up your writing at all.

H) Coffee

I go through three cups at least before I even begin to write. No coffee, no creativity.

I) Break the laws of physics

There’s no time in text. Nothing has to go in order. Don’t make it nonsense. But don’t be beholden to the laws of physics. My post, Advice I Want to Tell My Daughters, is an example.

J) Be Honest

Tell people the stuff they all think but nobody ever says. Some people will be angry that you let out the secret. But most people will be grateful. If you aren’t being honest, you aren’t delivering value. Be the little boy in the Emperor Wears No Clothes. If you can’t do this, don’t write.

K) Don’t Hurt Anyone

This goes against the above rule, but I never like to hurt people. And I don’t respect people who get pageviews by breaking this rule.

Don’t be a bad guy. Was Buddha a Bad Father? addresses this.

L) Don’t be afraid of what people think

For each single person you worry about, deduct 1% in quality from your writing.

Everyone has deductions. I have to deduct about 10% right off the top.

Maybe there’s 10 people I’m worried about. Some of them are evil people. Some of them are people I just don’t want to offend.

So my writing is only about 90% of what it could be. But I think most people write at about 20% of what it could be. Believe it or not, clients, customers, friends, family, will love you more if you are honest with them. We all have our boundaries. But try this: for the next ten things you write, tell people something that nobody knows about you.

M) Be opinionated

Most people I know have strong opinions about at least one or two things… write about those. Nobody cares about all the things you don’t have strong opinions on.

Barry Ritholz told me the other day he doesn’t start writing until he’s angry about something. That’s one approach. Barry and I have had some great writing fights because sometimes we’ve been angry at each other.

N) Have a shocking title

I blew it the other day. I wanted to title this piece: “How I torture women” but I settled for “I’m Guilty Of Torture.” I wimped out. But I have some other fun ones, like “Is It Bad I Wanted My First Kid To Be Aborted” (which the famous Howard Lindzon cautioned me against).

Don’t forget that you are competing against a trillion other pieces of content out there. So you need a title to draw people in. Else you lose.

O) Steal

I don’t quite mean it literally. But if you know a topic gets pageviews (and you aren’t hurting anyone) than steal it, no matter who’s written about it or how many times you’ve written about it before. “How I Screwed Yasser Arafat out of $2mm” was able to nicely piggyback off of how amazingly popular Yasser Arafat is.

P) Make people cry

If you’ve ever been in love, you know how to cry.

Bring readers to that moment when they were a child, and all of life was in front of them, except for that one bittersweet moment when everything began to change. If only that one moment could’ve lasted forever. Please let me go back in time right now to that moment. But now it’s gone.

Q) Relate to people

The past decade has totally sucked. For everyone. The country has been in post-traumatic stress syndrome since 9/11 and 2008 only made it worse. I’ve gone broke a few times during the decade, had a divorce, lost friendships, and have only survived (barely) by being persistent and knowing I had two kids to take care of, and loneliness to fight.

Nobody’s perfect. We’re all trying. Show people how you are trying and struggling. Nobody expects you to be a superhero.

R) Time heals all wounds

Everyone has experiences they don’t want to write about. But with enough time, its OK. My New Year’s Resolution of 1995 is pretty embarrassing. But whatever…it was 16 years ago.

The longer back you go, the less you have to worry about what people think.

S) Risk

Notice that almost all of these rules are about where the boundaries are. Most people play it too safe.

When you are really risking something and the reader senses that (and they WILL sense it), then you know you are in good territory. If you aren’t risking something, then I’m moving on. I know I’m on the right track if after I post something someone tweets, “OMFG.”

T) Be funny

You can be all of the above and be funny at the same time.

When I went to India I was brutalized by my first few yoga classes (actually every yoga class). And I was intimidated by everyone around me. They were like yoga superheroes and I felt like a fraud around them. So I cried, and hopefully people laughed.

It was also a case where I didn’t have to dig into my past but I had an experience that was happening to me right then. How do you be funny? First rule of funny: ugly people are funny. I’m naturally ugly so its easy. Make yourself as ugly as possible. Nobody wants to read that you are beautiful and doing great in life.

U) The last line needs to go BOOM!

Your article is meaningless unless the last line KILLS.

Read the book of short stories “Jesus’ Son” by Denis Johnson. It’s the only way to learn how to do a last line. The last line should take you all the way back to the first line and then “BOOM!”

V) Use a lot of periods

Forget commas and semicolons. A period makes people pause. Your sentences should be strong enough that you want people to pause and think about it. This will also make your sentences shorter. Short sentences are good.

W) Write every day

This is a must. Writing is spiritual practice. You are diving inside of yourself and cleaning out the toxins. If you don’t do it every day, you lose the ability. If you do it every day, then slowly you find out where all the toxins are. And the cleaning can begin.

X) Write with the same voice you talk in

You’ve spent your whole life learning how to communicate with that voice. Why change it when you communicate with text?

Y) Deliver value with every sentence

Even on a tweet or Facebook status update. Deliver poetry and value with every word. Else, be quiet.

Z) Take what everyone thinks and explore the opposite

Don’t disagree just to disagree. But explore. Turn the world upside down. Guess what? There are people living in China. Plenty of times you’ll find value where nobody else did.

AA) Have lots of ideas

I discuss this in “How to be the Luckiest Man Alive” in the Daily Practice section.

Your idea muscle atrophies within days if you don’t exercise it. Then what do you do? You need to exercise it every day until it hurts. Else no ideas.

BB) Sleep eight hours a day

Go to sleep before 9pm at least 4 days a week. And stretch while taking deep breaths before you write. We supposedly use only 5% of our brain. You need to use 6% at least to write better than everyone else. So make sure your brain is getting as much healthy oxygen as possible. Too many people waste valuable writing or resting time by chattering until all hours of the night.

CC) Don’t write if you’re upset at someone

Then the person you are upset at becomes your audience. You want to love and flirt with your audience so they can love you back.

DD) Use “said” instead of any other word

Don’t use “he suggested” or “he bellowed,” just “he said.” We’ll figure it out if he suggested something.

EE) Paint or draw.

Keep exercising other creative muscles.

FF) Let it sleep

Whatever you are working on, sleep on it. Then wake up, stretch, coffee, read, and look again.

Rewrite. Take out every other sentence.

GG) Then take out every other sentence again.

Or something like that.

Sanket didn’t want to go to grad school after we graduated. He had another plan. Lets go to Thailand, he said. And become monks in a Buddhist monastery for a year. We can date Thai women whenever we aren’t begging for food, he said. It will be great and we’ll get life experience.

It sounded good to me.

But then he got accepted to the University of Wisconsin and got a PhD. Now he lives in India and works for Oracle. And as for me…

I don’t know what the hell happened to me.

About the Author:

James Altucher is an American hedge fund manager, entrepreneur, bestselling author, venture capitalist and podcaster. He has founded or cofounded more than 20 companies, including Reset Inc. and StockPickr and says he failed at 17 of them.

via jamesaltucher.com

#writing #tips #psychology #lit #books #culture #life #studyblr #education #studyspo #reference #writers on tumblr #writing tips

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plutoandpolaris · 7 years

Text

Martyr Part 3

Marvin started from the beginning, as far back as he knew with Seán, a kid fresh out of college in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. Up through the years, the hair dye, the youtube success, the birth of Jackie and Schneep, Signe moving in, all the way up to his own creation, the big move and Chase’s first video. All the while though, he purposely left out one, very important detail. Anti. Marvin wanted to save that for the end in order to lay the whole “being stalked by a demon” business on Robbie as gently as possible. “Wait, so we’re all just physical personifications of Seáns imagination? None of us are really…real?” Robbie was fully alert now, hanging onto every single word Marvin spoke. “To put it simply, yes. The only reason we exist is because they decided we should.” Robbie cocked his head to the side slightly. “They? Who’s they?” Shit, how the hell are you supposed to explain the concept of a YouTube subscriber to someone who just popped into existence three hours ago? Marvin pondered this for a moment before taking out Stacy’s phone and pulling up Seán’s channel. “They.” He pointed to the number beside the icon. 16,737,980. “All of these are individual human beings. They are the ones who take Seán’s ideas and make them real, for the better or worse.” Robbie took the phone from Marvin’s hands slowly, looking down at the number like he’d just discovered the meaning of life. In a way, he had. “Then where…did I come from? Specifically, I mean.” Marvin took the phone back, scrolling down for a few seconds before stopping on a very specific video. “While I was out getting Stacy’s groceries I looked into that question, and I think I know where you came from. Look.” He turned the phone back around, showing Robbie a thumbnail featuring a zombie that looked eerily familiar. “It seems that they’re not stopping at Seáns videos, they’re bringing his thumbnails to life as well. They saw that image and thought, hey, what if we made that a character? A few days later and here you are.”

Robbie looked from the mirror on the wall to the phone, back to the mirror. “That’s me.” “Indeed it is.” Marvin let Robbie sit in this new information for a while, watching his face as he scrolled through Seán’s channel. After a few minutes he spoke up again, asking the last question Marvin wanted to answer. “You said that they, the viewers, bring Seáns ideas to life for the better or worse. What do you mean, worse?” Marvin took in a deep, deliberate breath before taking the phone back again, pulling up a picture. “This is what I mean, by worse.” The image was of Anti, as he appeared during his Pax video. Robbie studied it, clearly unsettled. “This is a ‘character’ known as Antisepticeye, but he’s not really a character at all. In fact, he’s a demon, a demon who existed long before Seán and will be here long after he and I are gone. Anti first possessed Seán in early 2013, and the small community of that time began to take notice of the little quirks he exhibited as a result of this possession. Using that as inspiration, they created Antisepticeye, the dark version of Seán. The demon noticed this and took on the community’s new character as an identity. He spent years absorbing their attention and obsession with him from the background, right under our noses. Seán had no idea, not until it was far too late to reverse what the community had done. They had created a monster, one who finally saw fit to reveal himself after three years of waiting. Predictably, revealing himself only made the viewers love him more, even as he slowly wore down Seáns psyche, even as he took over the channel, even as he killed his host live on video. They still cheered him on. He has the power of a demon and a tulpa combined, and he’s using it to dispose of the rest of us one by one. We’re all bargaining chips for them, the viewers, Anti’s puppets. That is why I brought you here. To keep you away from him.” The room went so silent you could hear a pin drop. Robbie looked absolutely horrified, and rightfully so.

“What would he have done to me if I had stayed?” He asked, so quietly it was almost a whisper. “He either would have killed you or corrupted you with his magic.” Like he did to me. Marvin didn’t say the second part out loud, but he thought it, and the simple reminder sent a pang of regret through his chest. “But,” Marvin put a hand on Robbie’s shoulder, attempting to calm him down. “That is why you’re here. So that won’t happen.” Robbie took some slow breaths, pulling his knees close to his chest. Marvin stood up once again, giving him a sympathetic glance before taking a seat at the dining table across the room. Stacy sat opposite to him, handing him another mug of coffee. “That could have gone better,” Marvin muttered, taking a sip of the coffee. This cup was significantly cooler but he really didn’t notice. Stacy put a hand on his forearm, attempting to comfort him. “You did what you could.” Marvin stood up abruptly, nearly knocking his mug over. “Ẅ͕̙͎̺̞̬͎͈́̀͑͆͛̚͞H̢͎̹̣̝̗͗̍̿̐͛̋͒͘͡ͅͅĄ̧̛̝̟̱͕̳͋́̃̀̂͌̃͒͟͠T̶͔̪͖̠̖̐͌̄̑̕͢͜ I̸̡͙̗̱͎̖̫͎͇͉͂̐̑̀͛F̵̡̯̝̥̤̲̘̤̊͛͐̌͒̎ I͕̬̹͇̲̠̎̃̅̒́̒́̓͡ͅṮ͙̼̟̟̺̳͂̀̃̓̀̀̀͞ͅ W̗̲̗͉͕̩͈̣͆͗̏̄͢͜͝Ạ̸̟͎̪̼̦͕͎̋̄̍͆͐̇̀̎̕S̨̨̝͉̫͑̂̃̊̑͊͊͜͟͝Ņ̷̟͓̰̹̹̾̀̈̈͊͐̕͜͝T̢̨̟̻̝̥̬͋̍͗͆́̾͞͞͠ G̴̙̘̙̣̜̭̝̟̉̅̓̇̉̈͢Ơ̴̺̜̮͇̲͆͊͑̃̚͜O̱͉͚͎̘͕̻͛̈́͒̍́͝ͅD̛̤̳̖̭̞̻̺͊͋͋̽̒̔̚͜͟͡ Ȇ̸̦̜̣͔̞͚̠͕̇̌̽̈̏̔͢͝ͅÑ̷̢̮̺̼̦̞͈͔̿̽͊̃͘͢Ỗ̟̲̗̳̉̊̐̈́ͅU̸̫͉̠̟̠̩͌̊̉͐́͞G̵̹̫͎̻̭̈̔̀͗͌̀͊͊́̚Ḩ̴͍͙̩̹̏̔́̅̽͛̔̍̓͞?̶̡͖͚̖̥͕̜̐̊̽͐̏̈͛̚͜!̸̨̩͍̜̟̼̱̘̗̪̇̋̍̍͠"̨̣̙̗̫̟͍̻̹̀͑̋̑́̀͊͟ Marvin grabbed at his own neck, bending over slightly as he backed into the wall. That was Anti’s voice. From his mouth. All of a sudden he had been hit by a huge burst of anger, enough to invoke the demon magic that was constantly pulsing beneath his skin. It was getting worse. Stacy’s eyes widened as she stood from the table, grabbing the bat from behind the kitchen door and raising it over her head. Marvin backed against the wall, attempting to speak but mostly unable to. "It’s not- it’s not what you think it is. Stacy, please, you have to listen to me!” Stacy lowered the bat slightly, even though her eyes still burned with an anger so visceral it actually scared him. “Sit the fuck down, you have a lot to explain.”

Marvin took a seat slowly as Stacy did the same, still hovering over the handle of the bat. Robbie was also watching them over the back of the couch, eyes wide and terrified but inquisitive. “Talk.” So Marvin began his story, from being found in the darkness and taking Anti’s magic, all the way up to finding Robbie just that afternoon. Stacy rubbed her temples, clearly at her wits end. “Why… why would you accept his magic?! That seems like the worst idea you could possibly have!” “I. had. no. choice! I would have died otherwise!” Marvin gripped the table so hard his knuckles went white, still attempting to keep Anti’s magic down and at bay. Stacy shook her head at him, downing the rest of her coffee. “If it were me, I’d have died before I would have taken anything from that fucker.” Marvin let out an exasperated sigh, leaning back in his chair and speaking with a venom that he didn’t expect. “You don’t get it.” She looked at him for a second, at first surprised but then with such anger that he leaned back in his seat slightly. “I don’t get it?! I’ve been stalked by that asshole for months, I can’t remember the last time I got a full nights sleep. He’s threatened my life, he’s threatened the life of my children, he’s taken away every single fucking thing I care about! Every time I close my eyes I see him, laughing at me, mocking me. He follows me in my goddamn dreams, everywhere I go he’s there, watching, with those eyes. I’d rather cut out my own then look in them ever again. But yet, after everything he’s done, he’ll have to rip my still beating heart out of my chest if he wants anything from me. Why? Because I’m not done. The moment I give him anything is the moment I’ve shown him that I’ve given up. I lived through all of this, and you tell me that I don’t get it?” She sat back down in her seat, seemingly exhausted, letting out a shaky laugh. “But what do I know, right? I’m just Chase’s ex wife. It’s not like I matter to them anyway.” Marvin didn’t have anything to say to that. As much as he wanted to argue, he knew Stacy was right. He got into this mess because he was scared. Scared of death, scared of being forgotten, but by taking Anti’s magic he’d created a much scarier monster.

After a long period of silence Robbie spoke, voice laced with apprehension. “There is dark energy here.” Stacy looked from Marvin to Robbie, visibly confused. “What’s he talking ab-” Marvin shushed her, listening very closely. It was very VERY faint, so much so he could barely detect it, but it was there. Static. “Anti’s coming.” Stacy’s eyes widened as she leapt from her chair, locking the front door with several deadbolts. “Fuck fuck fuck what do we do?!” “We calm down, for one. He’s pretty far away, and those deadbolts will hold him for a little bit.” Marvin paced around the room, retrieving his mask from where he had left it and putting it back on. Having the familiar feeling of the plastic helped calm his nerves. “You all need to leave. Stacy, her children, all of you. I’ll stay behind and stall him,” Robbie said, standing up from the couch and speaking with a confidence Marvin didn’t expect. “No! That’s a terrible idea, do you know what he’ll do to you?!” Marvin gripped Robbie’s shoulders, hoping that maybe he could shake some sense into him. “If you stay here, Anti’ll have five victims. If you leave, he’ll only have one. He doesn’t know me, maybe I can somehow reason with him. Either way, I’d rather die rather than take all of you down with me.” “Robbie, no! You were just created three hours ago, you have an entire life to live!” This was Stacy now, voice strained with stress. “That just means there’s no one who’ll miss me. You all have people who’d be hurt if you died. NOW GO.” Marvin and Stacy stood shocked for a moment before rushing into action. There was no time to argue, the static was getting closer and more aggressive the more time they wasted. In about five minutes Stacy had both of her children by the arms and was unlocking the back door. In another minute they were out the door and in a full sprint across the backyard. Marvin hovered in the doorway for a moment, looking back at Robbie. “Whatever you do, don’t let him see that you’re scared of him. That’s when it’s all over. Good luck.” The magician cast back one last glance at a face he may never see again. “I’m sorry.” With that he was gone, the door firmly locked behind him. Robbie was alone. With Marvin and Stacy gone, the true severity of the situation started to settle in. He was probably going to die. Just seeing a picture of Anti scared him to death, but the prospect of having to face that in person? It was safe to say that Robbie was having a mild panic attack just at the thought of it. The static was getting more severe, and he could swear he heard footsteps at the porch. There was no going back now. Don’t let him see that you’re scared of him. Marvin’s words echoed in his mind and he collected himself. Standing up straight and setting his jaw, Robbie positioned himself in front of the back door. “All I have to do is stall him, keep him from catching up to Stacy and Marv. That’s all,” he thought to himself, trying to calm down as much as possible. The static was nearly unbearable now, overloading all of his senses and making it hard to think straight. There was a knock, followed by several loud bangs as Anti began to break the door down. The deadbolts rattled and shook before shattering completely, the door swinging open with such force it punched a hole into the wall. Standing in the door was the most terrifying person Robbie had ever seen in his life, the pictures didn’t translate the half of it. He stepped over the shattered deadbolts, scanning the room from left to right before his eyes landed on Robbie. “What do we have here?” His voice was exactly as it had sounded coming from Marvin, but somehow even more terrifying. Anti made his way across the room agonizingly slowly, keeping his eyes on Robbie the entire time. The other man stood still as a statue, returning the demon’s piercing stare with one of his own.

“Have you seen Marvin around? I’m assuming you have considering he was just here.” Anti leaned in close until they were almost touching, his voice low and threatening. “You’d be wise to tell the truth.” Robbie said nothing, his jaw closed so tightly it would have hurt, if he could feel pain, that is. Anti glared down at him for a moment before grabbing the collar of his shirt and flinging him across the room like he was made of fabric or paper. Robbie hit the wall hard, knocking several picture frames off of a nearby shelf and landing in a pile of crooked limbs and broken glass “I̶̢̥̜̹͕̣̟͋̉̿̈̀̈́͆͜͢ͅ Ą̸̬͖̦̠̬̭͔̜͔́̄̑̌̔̔Ś͓͇̲̯̻̰̓̿̀̓̆͐͗͌͟K̷͎̼͈̠̜͓͖̀̓̍̾̄̒̆̈́̇E̵͖̙͚͕͍̗̭̬̐̅͆̌͐̎̽̂͆͟͞D̶̨̠͖̯̪͛͛̋́̓̈́́̚͞͠ Y̧̡̹͙͚̟̰͑̂̆͆͊̊̓͝O̡̡̩̭͚̟̎͋̓̓͘͢͠͝U̮͎͍̪͔̥̦̠͌̒̆́͒̆̋̀͘ Ậ͖͇̻̻̆͋̅̅̈́̾̕̚̚͟ Q̛̛̯̖̞̠̟̻̟̀̓̌͐͐͡͞Ü̵̢̧̧̜̳͓̞̬͒̓̊͌̊̓̍͘͢͟E̸̡̨̩͙̗̽̊̎͐̑͜͟͞͞ͅͅS̛͉̻̟͍̜̱͚̑̈́͌̌͗͟͞ͅṬ̢̫͚̮̋̃͑̾̍̎̏̆́͜͠I̛͔̳̠͙̱͆̂̋̏̈́̅̚͢O̡̠̝̩̲̙̹͇̟̓͑͋͋̂͐̈͟Ń̷̡̩̜̗͉̠̟̟̄̑̇̎̑̋͊͋̚͟"̴̢͖̼̭̩͑͛͋͆̈͒̚̚͜͠

Robbie stayed perfectly still, even as purple bruises sprung up on his fragile skin and dark blood poured from the many cuts and gashes the glass had caused. He could hear Anti’s footsteps as he approached, crunching on the glass shards under his feet. Robbie could vaguely see the demon crouching beside his head, peering down at him like one would an insect or a piece of roadkill. He composed himself, slowly coming to a half standing position against the wall. Getting thrown halfway across a room onto a pile of broken glass would have killed or at least severely injured him had he been human, so he sent off a silent prayer to whomever that he wasn’t. Anti seemed to notice. "Resilient little fucker, aren’t you?” Robbie said nothing, trying to focus on keeping his body from literally falling apart at the seams. Even though he couldn’t feel the pain he was still extremely fragile. Anti glowered at him, twirling the knife around in his hands like a baton. “I would ask you again but the truth is that I already know where Marvin is. I know where he is at all times, and if I wanted I could kill him right now from 200 feet away. But-” Anti leaned over him, hovering the blade inches from the bandages on his throat. “I’m much more interested in you.” Marvin’s warnings went right out the window then. Robbie shook like a leaf, terror holding him in an iron grip. All cognitive thinking was gone, every single bone in his body telling him to run for his life. He felt Anti snake his hand up to grip his collar, and he fully expected to be thrown across the room again. Instead, Anti adjusted his hold on the knife and struck it against Robbie’s already damaged neck so hard his head flew clean off of his shoulders. It was disorienting to say the least, but he eventually landed at Anti’s feet, the rest of his body still held in the demon’s grip. It didn’t hurt, it was just strange, but the fear of having no control over the rest of him was almost worse. Anti studied him for a moment, looking from his decapitated head to the headless body slumped against the wall. “So it is as I thought. You can’t feel any of this, you’re some kind of zombie creature.” He leaned down, picking up Robbie’s head by the hair and lifting it up to eye level. Anti’s eyes were black as ink, horrible voids that seemed to consume Robbie’s entire field of vision, garbled and scratchy voices whispering in his ears. He wanted to scream or cry or do something, but all he could manage to do was stare back in abject horror. “You’re going to wish they never created you.”

HOOOOO BOY.

I thought Checkmate took me a long time to write. That was three weeks, this was almost two months. XD It is nearly twice as long, so that’s to be expected. I hope you all liked it though! For those who were confused, this is part three in a series. The other two chapters will be linked below so you can catch up. Thank you all once again for all of the support you give my fics, it makes me incredibly happy.

Chapter 1: (You Brought This On Yourself):

https://plutoandpolaris.tumblr.com/post/163723803751/you-brought-this-on-yourself

Chapter 2: (Checkmate):

https://plutoandpolaris.tumblr.com/post/164191559401/writing-is-hard-part-17-its-done-guys-heres-the

@fear-is-nameless

@molly-pond-holmes

@mysteriousdogduo

@where-did-the-good-ones-go

@magic-marvin-protection-patrol

@robthezombie-support-squad

Part 1:

https://plutoandpolaris.tumblr.com/post/166083171681/martyr-part-1-so-ive-been-inspired-by-the-new

Part 2:

https://plutoandpolaris.tumblr.com/post/166083190336/martyr-part-2-trying-to-smuggle-someone-who-looks

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #antisepticeye #antisepticeye fanfiction #septicegos #JSEgos #Robbie the zombie #marvin the magnificent #Pluto's writings

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r95irth · 7 years

Photo

It’s time for...The oc presentation of (last) week (yes im late xx sorry)

It’s Tsubaki’s turn now. Next time it will be a girl, but I dont’ know which one yet, so don’t hesitate to point me one if you want.

Tsubaki Chuzenji

Writer comment about his development : It is one of the first i created for the class and he was almost completed in one go. Yet he keeps surprising me every time i write him. He’s the kind of character you only get to really know when you put him in action i’m afraid. It is also troublesome because the more i write him, the more he gets on autism-spectrum (which is okay i’ve never written one it’s interesting) but just like Mahô and her mental trouble, i don’t like to state the name of their particularity. Because when you do that it’s easier to say “then it’s her disease speaking” “that quality/flaw is due to the disease” or even to just sum up a character’s identity to that disease name (or sexuality, for all that matters). I prefer only stating facts, actions and emotions, and let the reader choose if he wants this to be this mental disease, or something else. Maybe I'm wrong to do it but I feel more confortable writing this way.

His character in five words : Introvert, independant, harsh, imaginative, loyal.

His quirk : Tsubaki’s power is hard to understand, one of the reason why is because as Tsubaki barely talks, he can’t explain it well. But what is sure is that he controls the sounds coming from him. He can change the tone of his voice for example, twist it to make it sound girly or correct it so it sounds right when he sings. When he plays a musical instrument he often let out a small sound, barely audible, so it mixes with the instrument’s sound and make it his own.

Tsubaki ’is from the “Recovery” family, and yet he uses his power less for healing than fighting. Two reasons for that ; first sounds is used a lot during healing process (for echo, or relaxing the patient) but is not very effective to actually heal. Second is because he wants to prove that he’s not as weak as his family thought he was and for that he must proves that he can defends himself.

His favorite way to fight is to make a lot of sound (clapping hand, snapping fingers) and confuses the opponent with it, making them hear it everywhere but where he’s. He uses the sens against them. He can also makes a person dizzy, as he hits in fact the inner ear (which control equilibrium).

He has some sort of sonar like ability. It’s more like he can visualize where his sound his going as easily as he can picture himself walking down the hallway.

When he was younger he used his power to erase all the sound he as making, even laughing sound. You could see him laughing bout you couldn’t hear it!

Likes : Music, his walkman (yes he has a walkman because CD are better), music instruments, empty room with good echo. People who doesn’t pressure him to talk. His friends. Internet, social network on it and online games.

Dislikes : His pink hair, crowded place, lot of noise, people touching him, social interactions in real life.

His family : His mother is from the “Recovery” family, she’s the youngest daughter of Recovery Girl. She followed her mother’s footsteps and was a hero for a long time, then decided to become the manager of her elder sister. His father is more ordinary, though he did try to become pianist when he was young he gave up on that dream and took an office job in the music industry. Now the couple are both managers, one for heroes, the other for idols. Tsubaki’s quirk is a mystery since his mother’s quirk is to reverse the decay of anything she touches and his father might be fan of music and has a good ear, but his power has nothing to do with it ; his skin changes color depending of the scent around him.

Tsubaki likes his parents very much ; don’t ask him which one he prefers it would only makes him shut down completely. On one hand he’s very affectionate with his mother and she’s one of the very few he’s accepting to be touched by. On the other hand he has developed a way to talk with his father, using music instead of words ; like a code.

His mother doesn’t understand why his son suddenly stopped talking and is still looking for answers. She stopped trying to cure him / force him to talk after a few years, and her husband convinced her that, since Tsubaki had nothing wrong physically, he would speak eventually if he had something to say. Until then they just had to wait. It’s still hard for her since Tsubaki does not talk to her, at all, not even with the music-code. His mother had done her best to understand what happened when her son stopped talking, asking the kindergarten staff, seeing specialist after specialists, even hypnotizers ones. It never worked.

His father doesn’t need answer for his son’s trouble, but he does need reassurance regarding Tsubaki protection. For him it’s the future that matters, not the past. He knows that his son won’t ever answer their call if he’s lost and won’t cry for help if someone abduct him, so he’s very concerned about the practical side of Tsubaki’s problems. He’s also very saddened that Tsubaki doesn’t accept being touched by his father, at all, not even holding hands.

Tsubaki has an older sister, but their relation is a bit hard, since she’s very protective of him and at the same time very jealous by the way he’s “favored” by their parents. She was also very afraid that her brother would ruin their parents’ marriage. But that didn’t happen and Tsubaki always been sweet and cute with her so she can’t stay mad at him for long. She’s also the one who introduced him to internet. She was once abducted by villains and that’s the reason why their mother stopped being a hero and signed Tsubaki in the Peace office program for children.

Overall, the family is centered around Tsubaki and his problem, and very heaved with guilt. His mother feels guilty for her son’s problem, his father feels guilty for not protecting him from whatever harmed him to such extend, even his sister has guilt, thinking that maybe, just maybe if she wasn’t abducted it wouldn’t have happened. Tsubaki feels guilty to make them feel that way and not being able to be the son they all want him to be.

To escape from that guilt, he loves to be out of the house. His favorite places are Peace office, his grandmother’s house (who he is very close to, since she’s a mix of her father, not pressuring him to talk, but also his mother, wanting to understand what makes him ok). He will also like the dorms of UA.

Secret past : “words cuts like knives, but you can’t see or heal the wound they make” despite not remembering who told him that Tsubaki took this sentence to heart. Maybe it is the reason why he stopped talking, but he’s not sure. He doesn’t remember why he stopped himself and now it’s too hard to try. He’s just not used to it, and comfortable with words anymore. All they know about his “problem” is that it started when he was 3 years old. One day he came back from kindergarten, and he just stopped talking. His sister had been abducted at this time and so it took a while for the parents to notice that their son’s silence was not due to the pressure/atmosphere at home. When they realized it was already too late. The kid had always been a bit awkward, even before that, but losing his voice made his strangeness even more obvious to everyone. What is important to understand though is that Tsubaki is conscious of the problem, he wants to get rid of him too, at some extent, but he can’t. He had try and try, but he never finds the right timing, the energy or the right word, so he shuts up. He feels like he lives one step behind everyone, sometimes he even can’t even understands how the conversation goes to one point to another and feels terribly stupid for not seeing what everyone else is capable of. (But he’s not stupid, he knows that, so what is wrong with him?). The other reason he just can’t change now is that is whole life is based on his mutism. The way he acts, the way he thinks, the way his friends knows him and the way his family treats him. When he tries to think of what would his life look like if he could talk, all he can think of is “i won’t be anything special anymore.” and this thought frightens him even more.

Happiest memory : Tsubaki has a lot of happy memories and wouldn’t be able to choose only one. He cherished the first time his sister took him on her knees while she was playing on the internet, on the home computer. He liked every time she explained how it worked to him and the games they did after a while, when they both had a computer to play on. He always recalls with fondness the way they made up a music code with his father, how he first played whistles, then symbals, then piano. He would never forget either the way his mother always brings him into house chores and turns the whole thing into a game, which always end up into a big tickles fight. The taste of his grandmother’s candy is still his favorite. And to be honest, one of the best place in the word for him is the Peace office music room, where he became friends with Satoru, then Max, Riku, Satsuki and Mahô.

Saddest memory : When he thinks about the sentence he’s always kind of sad and scared. But he doesn’t remember why so it’s not a sadness he understands. He doesn’t have a awful memory that put him into tears every time but he’s ashamed of his behaviour when he was 12. This period he calls in his head “the dark age” was when he was introduced to internet community for the first time. And he found out he could talk on the internet without problem, writing was easier than talking. And he said a lot of bullshit, awful things to people he didn’t know and probably hurt some. It got better after some time, and now he has set some rules to himself so it’s easier. Though he’s very slow to answer.

Best friends : Satoru and Max are his first and best friends. He met them before UA, in the Peace office program and didn’t let go of them since then. Satoru was the first to reach out to him and Tsubaki is probably one of the few who likes Satoru’s power. For this reason, Satoru is also one of the very few Tsubaki allows to be touched by. The friendship took a ong time to be build but now Tsubaki would be lost without it. Max is his second best friend, and the only reason he’s behind Satoru is because Max’s power doesn’t help Tsubaki to communicate with others. But they are more close in a lot of way, since they both like art and that Max is very shy.

Riku is also Satoru’s friends, and like Mahô, Riku is not the kind of person Tsubaki would have try to know better. Still he ended up liking the presence of Riku, as long as someone is there to recall the teenager that enough is enough. Riku has a bit of trouble understanding that Tsubaki needs time alone. He finds very useful that Riku can talks for three person at the same time though, people never complain about Tsubaki’s silent when Riku is here to fill the gap.

Satsuki is more the type of person he would have gotten along by himself. Her calm and composed behaviour makes him feel safe and she’s rarely stressed or anxious. Besides she wants to become a nutritionist and so understands really well mental health problem -or at least try to- without being intrusive. He likes her very much even if they barely communicate. He just hope she feels as at ease as him in his presence. But, when Satsuki started going out with Satoru in middle school things got a bit harder. Tsubaki felt jealous and anxious that his best friend would replace him by his girlfriend. Fortunately it didn’t happened and now Satsuki and Satoru broke up cleanly so everything is as it was before.

Mahô is the kind of person Tsubaki would have never gotten along in the first place if she wasn’t Satoru’s best friend to begin with. Since he had to deal with her a lot he grew accustomed to her presence, and then ended up calling her a friend. He was even surprised to find that they had a lot in common, as Mahô is blunt and rude when she speaks, often ending up hurting people without meaning to. But she also likes to sing (badly) and it’s the one friend he can do karaoke night without a single hesitation. And they grew even closer when Sator started going out with Satsuki, since they were both afraid to be neglected by their best friend. Hopefully it didn’t happen, but Tsubaki and Mahô still exchanged email adresses and talks a lot via text messages since then. Besides she also enchanted his headphones so he could listen to music and important conversation at the same time.

Get along well with : Ryota who also likes to sit a bit away from the crowd in the room to draw, shares his interest in art and is calm. Takashi who is a gamer and likes to write. Kyouji and Kahei are also his friends while gaming, but they are a bit too loud when they play so a bit less than Takashi. Yule, Saiya, Kussan are patient and quiet, so being with them is easy. Yume and Reika are his music friends, since they both play an instrument.

Doesn’t get along with : Those Tsubaki doesn’t get along with can be divided into four categories. The first one, loud people that he can’t keep up with (especially during conversation) Shiori, Koyuki, Kohaku and Riichi (who is the worst because he can divided himself into 7 different people all as loud as the original). He can still manage to some extent, with the first category. He needs time and training and people who can accept that he’s slower when it comes to communication (which is not the case of everyone). Second one would be tactile people who can’t understand what personal space is (and that his is one meter diameter) Yuu, and Goro. Again he can manage with the second category pretty easily, it just asks him a bit more of effort since he has to remember to always be out of their reach. The third one would be those who made him feel uncomfortable for one reason or another, Azuma for example, is scary because of his glare quirk, and silence in presence of Hide turns the atmosphere into a scary movie scene. The third category is harder for him, and he tends to never be alone with them. The last category, and the worst one, are those who meddle into his business and try to cure him when he didn’t ask them to. : Hana and Monmen. He avoids them at all cost.

Crush on : Tsubaki is very interested in romance, especially the one they describes in songs. He doesn’t feel anything like that for anyone in the class though. He’s very close to Yuu on that subject and look for the “soulmate”. So far he didn’t find them. He wouldn’t be able to rank people in his class aloud, but he still thinks that Kahei is the prettiest girl, and Satoru is the cutest boy. (He likes people smaller than him)

Conclusion about his relationship in class : Tsubaki doesn’t like going out of his comfort zone when it comes to socializing, and so he is not putting a lot of effort making friends in UA. This is one of the reason why they splitted up the four friends (Satoru, Mahô, Max and Tsubaki) in two classes. He still clinging to his old friends no matter what.

-Evaluation of his teacher Aizawa Shouta-

Potential as a hero : Tsubaki was a surprise, he didn’t rely too much on his family heritage and has his own style of fighting. His lack of communication though, is troublesome and will give him a lot of trouble in the future if he doesn’t find a way to work with it. For now, he seems to be doing fine with his couple of friends who understands his needs, but as a hero you don’t always works with people you know and used to.

Weak points : His lack of communication and his fragile mind is always in the way. He can be as powerful as he wants, as long as he isn’t be able to communicate with his teammates or be able to repeat the information he stole with his power, no one can rely on him. Hence no one can work with him on the field. I don’t ask him to talk, but i ask him to find a way to do his job without talking, instead of denying there is a problem. Without this, he would probably be on the top of the class during practical exams.

Strong points : His power is definitely powerful and versatile. He can used it to support, fight and spy missions.

Commentary : He passed through recommendation and showed great abilities, but even if we ask of you to be able to save yourself, a hero job is to be able to save people too.

#oc presentation time #tsubaki chuzenji #my writing #my oc #better care #bnha

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strawberry-boogie · 7 years

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THE AGONY AND THE ECSTASY OF MARY J. BLIGE

Brooklyn White

If someone would’ve asked me earlier this year if I was a Mary J. Blige fan, I would’ve said yes. No doubt. I’ll be 23 years old this fall, so although I wasn’t exactly allowed to jam secular music, I snuck around and I liked what I heard. Therefore, it’s safe to say that I grew up to her sounds. From peeping performances of “Real Love” on video channels, to having vivid memories of Mary expressing the depth of human emotion in a closet, to hearing “Be Without You” EVERYWHERE in middle school, I definitely have had my fair share of Blige and I’ve enjoyed it in full. Or so I thought.

Truthfully, I didn’t understand much about Mary or the messages she’s shared until a few months ago. I knew that she’d been in a tumultuous relationship with K-Ci Hailey of Jodeci in the early 1990s and I also knew that love, specifically the dark side of it, was a central theme in her work. But, it wasn’t real to me yet. Sure, I liked the sound (Mary hits those notes and the beats are bops), I enjoyed the various looks she’s given over the years, and I was into her narrative on a surface level, but it took me going through my own personal hell and being reborn and researching her life to truly feel the agony and the ecstasy of Mary J. Blige.

(Bare Mary)

Blige was born in the Bronx, New York in early 1971 to a musically gifted mother, Cora, and a physically abusive father. Music was always important to the family though - Blige’s Vietnam-vet father, Thomas, was a funk musician. Thomas left the family when Mary was 4, but she has shared that he would pop back into the picture periodically. My findings revealed that the Blige women moved to Savannah, Georgia for a time, but I am unsure of the exact time period. Cora and her two young daughters then relocated to Yonkers, but unfortunately, they were constantly faced with the mistreatment of others, as well as various other forms of violence. Blige has described how while living in the projects, she would hear women yelling and running from their partners and her family would be chased by people wielding weapons. Mary also began being sexually abused by a caretaker at age 5.

As most artists and dreamers do, Mary soon found a beautiful escape from the horrors of her reality. She began singing in a Pentecostal church (a denomination known for it’s high energy services and heavenly music) and was inspired by the soulful voices of Chaka Khan, Anita Baker, and Milira. Although the music remained in her heart, Blige stopped frequenting church, dropped out of school, and began drinking and using drugs. She was a talented hairdresser, so she also spent her time doing her friends’s hair in her mother’s home. Blige soon caught wind of an opportunity to do karaoke at a nearby mall and went in to drop her rendition of Anita Baker’s smash hit, “Caught Up In The Rapture”. The performance was recorded and eventually found it’s way in the hands of Andre Harrell, the CEO of Uptown Records. Just like that, music had once again saved Mary J’s life.

(Shots of a young Mary)

Now affiliated with Uptown Records, Mary was given the opportunity to sing background vocals for popular acts until she began focusing solely on her debut body of work. In 1991, she was assigned to rising producer Sean “Puffy” Combs and they began crafting a sound that would define Blige and change R&B forever. ‘What’s the 411?’, a reference to Blige’s time as a 4-1-1 operator, combined her smooth, strong mezzo-soprano vocals with hip-hop inspired, new jack swing beats and experimented with the look and sound of what a female R&B vocalist was supposed to be like.

(Combs and Blige, exact date unknown)

Produced primarily by Combs, ‘What’s the 411?’ was released in the summer of 1992 to great reviews from Entertainment Weekly, All Music, and The Rolling Stone Album Guide. Critics praised the blending of genres, Blige’s voice, and her fly, no bullshit attitude, and the project was certified 3x platinum after selling 3 million copies. Singles included: “You Remind Me”, “Real Love”, “Reminisce”, “Sweet Thing” (a cover of Blige’s childhood inspiration, Chaka Khan’s, 1975 cut) and “Love No Limit”. The stunning debut hit the top of Billboard’s Hip Hop/R&B chart, rose to #6 on the Top 200 list, and certainly solidified Blige as a starlet to watch. A remix version of the project was released, but was not as successful, even though the “Reminisce” remix with C.L. Smooth is my jam.

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(Blige performing the “Reminisce” remix for Uptown Unplugged in 1993; Dave Hollister stood in for C.L.)

Around this time, Mary also began a romance with Cedric “KCi” Hailey, a singer who also has roots in the Pentecostal church and was signed to Uptown Records in 1991 (as a member of Jodeci). He was featured on Mary’s debut, sharing vocals on the emotional ballad, “I Don’t Want To Do Anything” and stories of the duo’s fiery affair has allegedly been content for a few of Blige’s recordings. Mary remained relatively quiet about the situation in interviews, but she has discussed the final straw. Apparently, Hailey gave her a ring, and then denied their engagement on a television show in London. Blige was shown the footage of his denial on air and reveals how hurt she was by his behavior. (FOUL!!!!) She kept the creativity alive through it all though and began recording her sophomore effort, ‘My Life’ in the winter of 1993.

‘My Life’, with it’s raw feeling, use of old school soul samples, and serious subject matter, was a “call for help” according to Blige. Shockingly, she didn’t think people would be receptive of it initially. But as fate would have it, the LP, released in late 1994, was not only understood, but well received. Scarred by the events of life, the R&B diva had turned to drugs and drinking again, but was inspired by the support of her fans to begin healing. As someone who has dealt with drugs, experienced sexual abuse, and chosen cruel partners out of self-hate, I comprehend the rockiness of the healing process. It takes time, and sometimes, it’s an ongoing process. You do good, you fuck up, you clean up, you do good, you fuck up...it goes on and on until you become who you want to be. I say this because Blige did not sober up immediately - it took her years to find her strength and love herself the way she needed to be loved. Even after winning her first Grammy for “I’ll Be There For You/You’re All I Need”, Blige continued to stumble. But she never gave up.

(Blige on the cover on cover of EBONY in January 1998)

Project after project, including 97′s ‘Share My World’, 99′s ‘Mary’, and 2001′s super successful release, ‘No More Drama’, chronicled this process and gave listeners a look into the soul of a superstar. No hateration in this dancery, bitch. Blige’s life began to get better when she started a romance in 2000, with her now soon-to-be-ex, Kendu Isaacs. In the beginning, the couple seemed to be a match made in heaven and Mary has spoken on how she strongly she felt for her first husband. After 16 years though, Blige filed for divorce, stating irreconcilable differences. I now know that cheating is at the heart of the split and I can’t help but wonder what the hell Isaacs is thinking. Spousal support? What? How do you dog MARY JANE BLIGE and then get to HER bag? Mind blowing.

On the more positive side, during their union, Blige gave up drugs and alcohol for good, modified her diet, and gave the world ‘Love & Life’, ‘The Breakthrough’, ‘Growing Pains’, ‘Stronger With Each Tear’, ‘My Life II’, ‘A Mary Christmas, and ‘The London Sessions’. She also co-headlined a tour with Jay-Z in 2008 to support their respective 2007 releases. It remains the best selling male/female hip-hop/r&b tour of all time, grossing over 30 million dollars. Blige also won 8 of her 9 Grammy awards during this time period.

(Blige at the 2017 BET Awards)

In 2017, the media has focused heavily on her divorce from Isaacs (I scrolled through pages trying to find older news that spoke on the good points of their relationship), but that’s how it be. I got a few cosmic clues that Mary J Blige’s story was worth looking into and sharing, the first coming from my mom. When all of the news started to break about Mary’s split, my mom told me to (in so many words) to humanize Blige. “She’s our sister”, my mom said. Facts, Pastor Lewis. She is our sister, and we gotta love her and lift her up. My friend Don, who is kiiiiinda responsible for my most recent MJB spin, also helped me realize a few things about Blige. He showed me “U + Me”, a single from her latest offering, ‘Strength of a Woman’ and a light bulb went off. The stories of violence, the broken relationship with self, the deep desire for real love...I finally understood it and could enjoy it as someone with a past and bright future. I can say that I’m now a true fan because I know that we are reflections of one another. Our agony and ecstasy has become one.

Congratulations to Mary J. Blige for releasing her debut project on this day in 1992. Keep going Mary, I’m behind you.

Peace.

#Mary J Blige #Chaka Khan #Anita Baker #Jodeci #Andre Harrell #Sean Combs #KCi #What's the 411 #music #r&b #the agony and the ecstasy

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