#i am shocked that one of the most integral parts of learning a language (doing so with other people) was taken away | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

safertokiss · 3 years

Text

Lost in Translation

A/N: Heyyyyy guys...remember when I used to post like every two weeks? Yeesh that’s awkward...but I’m backkkkk woooooooo party time! I was so excited that my discord buddies organized another fic swap because it was so much fun the first time. This time around I was chosen to write a doozy for the wonderful @writing-in-april and I have decided to bless you all with a beautiful subby boy. Sub Spencer lives in my head rent free, no cap. So sit back, relax and pretend it's you getting fricken railed. Peace out girl scouts;)

Pairing: SPENCER x READER

Category: SMUT hehe oh yeah and fluff

Word Count: 4.8k

ENJOY:)

~~~

MASTERLIST

~~~

For as long as she could remember, Y/n had always wanted to learn Russian.

So, naturally, when she found out that their newest case involved two lovers who also happened to be Russian criminals trying to escape the United States government, she simply couldn’t help but jump at the opportunity to become more involved in the investigation.

It’s not that she’d never been on a stakeout for the Bureau before, in fact she’d probably been on so many at this point that she’d lost count. The only difference that this specific stakeout brought to her life was the fact that it was her first one to have ever been shared with Spencer Reid.

Her and the young doctor had lived in the same apartment building since her first day at the BAU, but their relationship pretty much began and ended at that. Of course they greeted each other whenever they passed in the halls of their building and ricocheted off of each other’s theories whenever necessary during their meetings in the round table room, but it would be a lie to label their relationship as anything other than casual acquaintances as well as amicable coworkers.

She had never been able to fully get a grasp on the elusive Dr. Reid. The fact that he was already such an integral member of the F.B.I. at the ripe age of 25 astounded and, well to be honest, perplexed her. Not that she doubted his abilities or intelligence in any way, quite the opposite really. She admired how utterly brilliant he proved to be day in and day out, even with the shy exterior he presented himself with to the world. Well, shy was definitely more of an understatement.

She had never met someone more socially awkward in her entire life, but with that being said, she couldn’t help but find it endearing and pretty dang adorable. Y/n constantly found herself enjoying his pathetic attempts at human interaction on a daily basis. From the nervous stutters to the out of this world hand gestures, there was much for her to dissect about the young doctor. And while she could openly admit that he was quite easy on the eyes, in a boyish-innocent kind of way, she had never really been able to see him in that sort of light.

If she thought his normal social interaction skills were entertaining to witness, his reactions to any of the conversations that took a more raunchy turn were to die for. The speed at which his features would ripen red like a tomato whenever anything of a sexual nature was brought up during cases was truly amazing, impressive even. However, unlike the rest of their team, she knew he wasn’t completely innocent. The walls in their apartment were as good as paper when it came to thickness, so it wasn’t that big surprise that the sounds created within them carried fairly well.

Or at least that was what she had discovered after the first night she heard him touching himself just through her bedroom wall.

Yes, it was less than ideal that their bedroom walls just happened to be adjacent to each other, but what could she do about it? It wasn’t as though she never sought out her own pleasure while alone in her apartment...although she would bet money that she was much better at withholding her noises. Instead, she learned to adapt to the sounds from next door and continue on with her life, having accepted that guys will in fact be dudes, no matter how innocent and meek they may appear.

When her boss had explained the nature of the assignment to them, there wasn’t anything of significance that had jumped out at her. It was all pretty standard instruction. They would wait, parked, in a government issued SUV overnight at a location close to the whereabouts of the criminals and simply translate their conversations using the mics that were planted prior. While Hotch knew that Y/n herself couldn’t understand Russian, it was common knowledge that the resident genius easily could transcribe the language.

And that was how she found herself cramped next to Spencer Reid in the stagnant vehicle, pen and paper in hand, patiently waiting for the translations to begin.

It was almost completely silent inside the car, apart from the quiet whirring of the heat coming through the vents, and she could basically feel the nerves coming off of the man next to her in waves. That’s why she was completely thrown off her game when his timid voice was the first to break through the silence that had encompassed the space they inhabited together.

“So um Y/n..h-how have you been recently?”

She did her best to hide the small smirk that started to form on her face from the stuttering mess that spilled out of his mouth. She definitely didn’t want to make him feel even worse about himself so she decided to humour his adorable attempt at conversation with her...well...sort of.

“Oh ya know Reid, just counting the days until I get some action. How about you?” If she thought he was sputtering nervously before, that was nothing compared to this treasure.

“Oh um well uh I-I mean...I don-I don’t...uh...w-what was the question a-again?”

This time she couldn’t stop the airy chuckle that escaped her lips as she leaned over and patted him gently on his thigh.

“Relax Reid, I’m just fucking around with you. Well for the most part...I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to some action, but that’s a whole can of worms I am not about to open during a stakeout”, Y/n laughed, not at all missing the steadily spreading blush that coated his sharp features.

“Yeah...no..yeah right of course...I t-totally knew you were just um fu-messing with me! Uh we should probably um r-review our assignment...you know just so we’re all s-set before we start.” How adorable.

“Aye-aye captain Reid. Ok so..”, she muttered while fiddling with the listening device to secure the right frequency. “...we just have to wait until they get back so we’re in range of their conversations. That’s when you’ll have your time to shine and prove yourself as the resident genius once again. And I’m sure that you’re aware that I don’t know a lick of the Russian language so I will be the best damn transcriber for you that the world has ever seen”, she finished with a smirk.

Even Reid chuckled a bit at her words, the ever-present blush slowly creeping back upon his face and neck.

“I’ll uh-I’ll hold you to that then.” Y/n had to admit she particularly liked to see the boy smiling, especially when it was the result of her own words. His innocence seemed to call out to her like a siren and she didn’t know how to feel about it.

“Oh-oh there they are! Ok get the pen and paper ready because as soon as they’re in range I’ll start translating.”

Getting themselves situated, they waited the few seconds it took for the couple to get close enough to the vicinity of the SUV for their conversations to begin to be broadcasted through their system.

“Как вы думаете, они идут по нашему следу?”

“Do you think they’re on our trail?”, Spencer easily understands, leaning slightly closer to her so his words were clearly heard.

“Ни за что. У этих глупых американцев нет шансов поймать нас.”

“No way. Those stupid Americans don’t stand a chance at catching us.”

At this point, the couple had already disappeared behind the door at the entrance of their current base, leaving only their words to give the closely listening agents much needed context clues.

“Я когда-нибудь говорил тебе, как сильно мне нравится твоя уверенность?”

“Have I ever told you how much I love your confidence?”

Even Spencer let himself smile at the chuckle that left Y/n’s lips. “Awww how cute...they’re flirting with each other over mass murder. I strive for that kind of intimacy.”

“Да у тебя есть. Но почему бы тебе не показать мне, насколько тебе это нравится.”

“Yes, you have. But why don’t you show me just how much you love it.”

Uh oh, Y/n thought to herself. Not a second after the untimely thought permeated her brain, the sounds of wet lips sloppily colliding against each other filled the otherwise silent vehicle. After the few seconds of shock wore off, their heads whipped to face each other, eyes wide and mouths wide open. “Huh...well this was certainly an unexpected turn.”

“I uh um-uh well w-what do we do now?”, Tomato Boy nervously sputtered out over the chorus of moans and groans that were currently bouncing off the SUV’s walls. As unexpected as the present situation was, she was absolutely eating up his reaction to the crude sounds.

“Well, Hotch did say he wanted us to take down every single word that was shared between them so...I guess we’re just gonna have to keep moving forward with the translations. You can do that, can’t you Reid?”, she explained, not even attempting to hide the growing smirk on her face.

“Yeah! Yes! Mhmm I can do that, I c-can definitely do t-that.”, he gushed, trying to subtly clear his throat to clear the steadily growing tension in his body.

“Good to hear, Doc.”, she cheekily replied just as the raunchy sounds echoing through the system transitioned to different methods of communication, more legible ones.

“Ты была для меня такой хорошей девочкой. Я думаю, ты заслуживаешь награды.”

Quickly clearing his throat once more, he jumped back into action, with what Y/n noticed was considerably less confidence than before. “You’ve b-been such a good g-girl for me. I think you deserve a r-reward.” Spencer’s voice had noticeably dropped to a whisper by the end of the sentence, forcing Y/n to lean closer to be able to hear his translations, only magnifying the already present tension in the air.

“Пожалуйста, папа, я сделаю что угодно.”

“P-please daddy.” His voice broke at the end igniting something deep inside Y/n’s being. “I’ll do anything.” In that moment she truly believed he would do anything, his own words or not, based on the obvious strain in his pants that her eyes glanced over, and also by the way his skin completely succumbed to goosebumps as her warm breath caressed the shell of his ear. She didn’t really know what the hell was happening, why her body was absolutely loving the way he gradually leaned into her’s, submitting all of his vulnerabilities into her hands.

“Тебе это нравится, не так ли, маленькая шлюшка. Как член папы глубоко внутри тебя?”

She watched the way he inhaled a deep breath and released a high-pitched sigh before continuing on, subtly pressing her legs together to control the excitement thrumming through her body at his pathetic tone and mannerisms.

“You like t-that don’t you, you little-uh-you little s-slut?” From their close proximity, she could clearly make out the speedy heartbeat clambering against his chest as he spoke. And if that was the case, he must’ve been able to feel hers as well. “Like daddy’s c-cock deep inside of y-you?” She could’ve sworn she saw his dick twitch slightly in his pants.

“Маленькая шлюшка уже придет за мной? Тогда умоляйте об этом. Бля, умоляю позволить тебе кончить.”

Y/n certainly did not miss the airy sigh that escaped his lips, watching as a bead of sweat dripped down his temple, confidently guessing it was not from the heat that had been coming through the vents.

“Is the little-little s-slut gonna come for me already? B-beg for it then. Fucking beg f-for me to let you c-come.” Spencer was speedily falling apart at the seams and she was loving it. More than loving it. She was craving it. Craving the little noises that he was trying to stop from escaping his lips. Craving the way he slightly bounced his leg in an attempt to control his arousal, which was futile because it had obviously already reached its full potential in the confines of his khaki slacks.

“Пожалуйста, папа. Пожалуйста, позволь мне прийти. Мне это надо. Пожалуйста.”

Without even hearing the words translated back to her, she could hear the utter desperation in the girl’s voice. She no longer needed to understand the Russian language to be able to finish the translation, and as she sat there with her thighs tightly pressed together, she knew exactly what it meant.

“Please!” The utter need that was present in the original audio was somehow mirrored perfectly by the young doctor’s breathy voice, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, a prominent vein popping through the skin of his smooth forehead. “Please, p-please, please let me come. I n-need it. Please!”

“Приди за мной, детка.”

Deciding that she could regret her actions in the morning, Y/n quickly grabbed his face before he could translate, angling his head so she could whisper directly into his ear at the same time he spoke the last line of the night.

“Come for me baby.”, they both spoke at the exact same time.

Pulling away as fast as possible, she watched his clamped eyes shoot open as the most obnoxiously loud moan she had ever heard escaped the poor kid, his whole body spasming as a result. And using the large stain on the crotch of his pants as a guide, she was pretty certain she knew what had happened.

For the next few minutes there was silence in the SUV, apart from Spencer’s heavy breathing as he came down of course, leading them to believe the couple had fallen asleep after their...activities. Of course she wanted nothing more than to tease the trembling mess next to her, but she could already tell he was mortified beyond belief because of what happened so she didn’t want to make it any worse for him than it already was.

After waiting a few extra minutes just to make sure that they had actually gone to sleep, the pair drove away from the stakeout location, Spencer not having said a word since his...big finish. As much as she loved watching him fall apart in front of her, she really didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable around her.

“Well that was certainly an unexpected turn of events for the night, huh?”, she said, lightly chuckling with the intent of lightening his mood. She was very glad to see it had the intended effect.

“Uh y-yeah...you could definitely say that again.”, he mumbled with the ghost of a smile on his plump lips, though she could still clearly make out the blush coating his features.

“So hey, I know that you usually take the metro, but I’d be more than happy to give you a ride home after we drop the SUV off at the office if you want.”, she warmly smiled in his direction without taking her eyes completely off the road.

“Oh um..yeah that would be perfect. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it Reid.”

~~~

The rest of the ride back to the office was pretty much spent in silence, but it was much more comfortable than it had been before, which was a huge relief. After dropping the keys to the SUV in the lock box inside, the two agents piled into Y/n’s car to go back home to their shared building. On their way back she considered just asking him if he wanted to ride with her everyday just to make his life a little easier in the long run.

Once they got to the parking lot and exited the vehicle, they began walking towards the entrance together, the awkward tension from before creeping back into the air around them. Soon enough, they found themselves standing in front of their respective doors, both unsure of how they were supposed to end the night’s interactions. After a few moments of painful silence and eye contact, Y/n was the first one to rip off the band-aid.

“So...I guess I’ll see you tomorrow Reid?” He seemed to be broken out of his trance by the sound of her voice, snapping back to attention.

“Huh? Oh yeah uh yes of course. S-see you tomorrow Y/n. Goodnight.” He scampered into his apartment before she could even get a chance to respond to his bidding.

“Goodnight.”, she whispered to no one other than herself as she unlocked her door and headed inside to shower quickly before diving into her soft sheets.

She was sitting up in her bed, book in hand, with only the small glow of her reading lamp illuminating her room when she heard it. Of course she knew immediately what they were, a talent that had developed and strengthened from living adjacent to a pretty much pubescent boy.

The tell-tale sound of moans and groans vibrating right through her wall.

She knew she probably shouldn’t be listening, something about a violation of privacy or whatever, but she just couldn’t help it. He sounded so desperate it was driving her insane. So much in fact that she was in the process of skimming her own hand downwards when she was interrupted by a certain something from the Doc’s room.

“Y/n! Oh god, please. Please.”

Oh. Oh.

Not even giving herself a second to consider her actions, she was up on her feet basically sprinting to his door, pajamas and all. Not even bothering with knocking, she noticed it was unlocked and let herself in, beelining for what she assumed was his bedroom by the increasing volume as she approached it. Standing in his doorframe, she was utterly mesmerized. There he was, sprawled across his sheets, completely bare with sweat coating his hair as he rapidly pumped his angry, red cock, her name tumbling from his lips like a chant.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” She smirked as she watched his head shoot up to where she was standing, his hand immediately stilling it’s rapid movements. Watching the panic spread on his face was intoxicating to her as she slowly approached his bed.

“Y/n! Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I uh-I didn’t um...” His words trailed off and his eyes widened as he watched her slowly begin removing her clothes as she moved closer to him.

“Shhhhhh.” She managed to remove both her shirt and pajama pants in the short trip over to his bed and she had no intention of stopping there. Now standing directly in front of him, she let her eyes wander over his still frame completely, soaking in the amazement in his dark eyes and the slight tremble that was periodically rippling through his body. Maintaining eye contact with him the whole time, she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, letting it pool on the floor next to her.

It was honestly shocking his eyes didn’t actually fall onto the floor with how far they bulged out of their sockets, a small moan leaving his mouth.

She giggled at his enthusiasm before bringing her soft hands up to caress his face gently, his body shuddering at the contact. “Do you want me to keep going baby boy?” Taking a second to process the question that had left her lips, he slowly nodded while looking her in the eyes, his own full of awe.

Happy with his answer, she reached for the edge of her panties before pushing them down to join the other pieces of clothing already inhabiting his floor. Spencer couldn’t speak. He could barely even breathe. Five minutes ago he had been jerking off to his neighbor, who also happened to be his coworker, and now said neighbor was crawling onto his bed, completely naked, with a wicked smirk on her face.

Straddling his lap, but making sure that there was no actual contact, she reached up to cup his face again, slowly rubbing circles into his defined cheekbone. “Is this ok baby boy? Is this what you want?”, she cooed.

Spencer looked like he honestly might cry from the pure compassion laced within her words, but still found a way to nervously nod his head in affirmation of her questions. With a warm smile on her face, she leaned forward and placed a feather-light kiss on his lower jaw before continuing up the side of his face, basking in the small whimpers that fell from his pretty lips. Finally reaching his ear, she let her warm breath tease him before proceeding.

“Do you want me to take control of you? Is that what you want sweet boy?” While the whine that immediately escaped him was answer enough, she pulled back searching for a more concrete answer to her question. “Hmmmm, you’d like that?”

“Yes.”, he whispered, nodding his head anxiously.

While he was answering she had leaned back towards his face, placing soft kisses all over. “As you wish baby boy.”, she whispered, changing course to attack his neck with her eager lips as soon the words left her mouth. Spencer gasped instantly and she couldn’t help but smirk against his pale flesh, increasing the pressure in which she was assaulting his neck.

Through the groans that spilled past his lips, she was able to make out his pathetic attempt at words, not slowing down her lips at all. “J-just make sure not to leave any m-marks. We’ll g-get in trouble at w-work.” Of course Spencer would be the only person on the planet to remember their office guidelines while getting his neck sucked like a vampire.

“No marks...that’ll be difficult. I want everyone to know just how thoroughly I fucked you.”

Feeling extremely satisfied by his enthusiastic response to her vulgar words, she slowly lowered herself down his body, pausing with her mouth right above his groin. Somehow the poor kid already looked completely fucked out and she hadn’t even done anything yet. Hearing him wince as she gently grasped and started stroking his cock, she knew this was gonna be fun.

Staring directly into her eyes, he watched the string of spit leave her mouth and drip directly onto his dick, eyes bulging at her bold actions, still in shock that any of this was actually happening.

Entranced by the way his chest expanded rapidly as he watched her curiously, she leaned forward and licked the tip, his head falling back onto the pillow behind him. “I’m gonna suck your cock...but only because I want to see if you can not be a spaz about getting head from me.” Her words made Spencer whimper and she smirked as she took him fully into her mouth, soaking in his pretty noises.

Y/n had only been going for a minute or two when she heard his groans get louder and felt him twitch in her mouth. Pulling off of him with a pop, she hummed at the sight of the completely wrecked boy in front of her, panting and shaking adorably. It wasn’t long before the perfect idea infiltrated her head, her body thrumming with anticipation and excitement.

“You’ve been such a good boy for me. I think you deserve a reward.”, she smirked, reciting the words that they had heard verbatim. Seemingly catching on to what she was pushing for, he responded accordingly.

“Please Y/n. I’ll do anything.”

She quirked her eyebrow in his direction questioningly, slowly grinding her dripping core against his achingly hard cock. “Anything, baby boy?”

Snapping his heated stare directly to her eyes, he cracked a beautiful smile. “Anything.”

She couldn’t control the grin that overtook her lips as she lowered herself down onto his erection, writhing in pleasure at the feel of him inside of her and the sound of his wanton moans. “Good boy.”

Wanting to give Spencer time to fully adjust and control himself, she started her movements out slow, lifting herself up until only his tip remained inside before dropping down completely into his lap repeatedly. He was a moaning mess on the sheets below her, sweat coating his body along with goosebumps covering every visible expanse of his skin as he panted like a dog. He was so fucking pretty like this.

Deciding enough was enough, she picked up the pace considerably, bouncing like a mad woman on his dick, while her sharp nails scratched down his creamy, pale chest in front of her, leaving angry, red streaks in their wake. Spencer had devolved into a blubbering mess underneath her and that lit her soul on fire.

“You like that don’t you, you little slut? Like your cock deep inside of me? Huh?”

Y/n was pretty sure that he was short circuiting below her, his brain cutting off all control over his body as he spasmed uncontrollably and moaned for the entire fucking building to hear. Good, she thought. Let them hear how whipped he was for her. Even though it had only been a few minutes since she increased her speed, she could feel his cock starting to twitch violently inside of her and she knew he was close, really close.

“Is the little slut gonna come for me already?” All he could do was whimper in response, having to nod his head emphatically due to his loss of speech.

“Beg for it then. Fucking beg for me to let you come!” She was on fucking cloud nine right now, floating through the motions, as his whimpers increased in volume and speed. Mustering up all the strength he could, he spit out as many audible words as possible.

“Please! Please, please, please let me come! I need it! Please!” He was crying now, tears rapidly pouring from his eyes and spilling down his cheeks out of sheer desperation and need to release the tension built up within his body.

She was in awe of him. As she watched the tears pour down his face, she couldn’t help but whimper too. Desperately needing to finish, herself, she brought one hand down to make circles around her clit, while the other she brought up to wrap gently around his flushed throat, leaning over to whisper in his ear like she had earlier that night.

“Come for me, baby.”

She once again pulled back to witness his reactions to her hushed words, the outcome only more amazing than before. She watched as his eyes rolled back as far they could possibly go into his head as his mouth dropped open in pure ecstasy, high-pitched whines escaping his lips, his release shooting up into her like it had always belonged there. Maybe it had.

Watching him come undone below her, combined with her hand speedily rubbing circles on her clit, she was catapulted into the most amazing climax of her entire life, her body buzzing with excitement as she tightened around him and collapsed on his chest, weak as could be after that activity.

The pair laid silently, apart from the heaving breaths whirring through the room, still in shock over what had just transpired minutes before. Slowly shifting her eyes to the shivering boy below her, she saw he was caught in a trance, his eyes dazed, a soft grin on his lips.

Breaking him from his stupor, she gently cupped his cheek with one hand as the other drew lazy circles on his blotchy chest. Rubbing the skin on his face lightly, she leaned forward and kissed his nose, making him scrunch it up and giggle as a result. “Such a sweet boy for me. Such a sweet, sweet boy.” Her words made him melt inside and words tumbled out of his own mouth before he could even think about stopping them.

“Вы красивы внутри и снаружи.”

She looked up at him in shock, before breaking out in giggles. “Did you just serenade me in Russian? How romantic.”, she giggled, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

He couldn’t seem to control his giggles either, a fact that warmed her heart. “Yes, I suppose I did.”

Smiling up at the adorable boy she just had to ask. “What does it mean?”

Y/n watched as his signature blush quickly coated his features once again as he looked down at her with a shy smile. “You are beautiful, inside and out.”

With the warmest grin she could muster, she leaned up and kissed his jaw once more before snuggling up against the young doctor who had melted her heart.

Tag List: @hopebaker @pastathighs @psychedellic-phase @gloryekaterina @sleepysnapesnake @racharr @etherealgubler @furiouspartyrebelhoagie @andiebeaword @liaabsurd @cielo1984 @starkeybaby @victomizedbyreginageorge @rainsong01 @moonlight-jukebox @gretaamyk @httpnxtt @rachelxwayne @goldnratio @cheyxminds @kricketc29 @cupcake525 @pinkdiamond1016 @slutforthegubes @shadyladyperfection @emilysallysmith @babblingbrookex @legendaryanimeaestheticclou @sunstspidey @ashwarren32 @pixels-impulse @eviewildflower @spencerreider @awkwardsadaa @dirty-pan-goblin @spencerspecifics

#criminal minds #cm #criminal minds fic #spencer #spencer reid #dr reid #matthew gray gubler #mgg #mgg fic #spencer x reader #cm fic #spencer reid smut #cm fluff #cm smut #spencer reid fluff #smut #fluff #many thoughts head full #oneshot

625 notes · View notes

jolgan · 3 years

Text

Something Wicked Comes to Stay

Intro/Summary

Prologue

Rating: T

Warnings: teenagers making out, demons, knives, identity crises (plural), existentialism, strong language at times, violence (teenagers attacking each other in a controlled environment, mentions of gang violence, oh yeah, demons), Teen Angst and other dumb teenage bs

Word Count: 1551

Chapter: 2/?

Chapter 1

The integration of Magic School was met with varying degrees of concern and outrage from students and their families. But, even so, the decision was already made, and demons were admitted. Even with extra safety precautions put in place by the Elders, many families pulled their children from the school. Instead, they chose to educate them themselves or to send them to public school. The Halliwell family wanted to do the same, but the oldest students refused. CeCe was the most adamant. She argued that because she attended Magic School for her entire education she would not fit in at a public school. She had never been in a classroom with non-magical students and she was uncomfortable with the idea. Besides, all her friends were at Magic School. Chloe and Adam Halliwell agreed with their cousin and stood with her. Their parents did eventually yield, but the agreement was conditional. The three oldest cousins would be allowed to continue at Magic School, but they had to demonstrate they could use “the power of three.” This was a ridiculous stipulation. It was impossible. They were not the Charmed Ones. They weren’t even siblings. The only hope they had was that each possessed one of Melinda Warren’s powers.

Specific powers alone were not enough, the cousins soon found out. Over the summer they went through brutal training. They had to learn to fight together, what each of their strengths and weaknesses were and how their powers worked together. They did have a close relationship from being so close in age and growing up together, which helped, but it was still bitter work. Their parents conjured “replica” demons for them to fight. The difficulty of each battle increased. The pressure came to a head when one training exercise ended badly. While fighting a replica brute demon, Chloe was seriously injured. The trauma of seeing his cousin in that state awakened Adam’s healing abilities. He was able to save her without intervention, but that was the final straw for Wyatt, who believed they were pushing their children too hard to achieve something that was impossible. P.J. also had growing concerns with the intensity of the training they were forcing their teenage children through. “My daughter almost died tonight because of your “training” exercises. Your son is probably traumatized from seeing her like that,” She argued to Chris. “My child is my problem. Besides, it would have happened eventually. It’s probably better that it happened now than later,” Chris reasoned. “If this is too much for them, then so is going to a school with evil students,” he finished. Overhearing this exchange, CeCe and Chloe came up with a plan. They were going to prove to their parents that they could manage demons and use their own brand of “the power of three,” they just had to get Adam on board. The girls went up to CeCe’s room to find Adam lying on her bed, his arm over his eyes. “You okay?” Chloe asked him, as she and CeCe sat on the edge of the bed. Adam groaned and his arm slid back to his side. He looked at Chloe. “Are you okay?” he asked seriously. She nodded. “Of course I am. You healed me,” she assured him with a smile. The three teens sat in silence for a few moments before CeCe broke it. “We came up with a plan,” she said, waggling her eyebrows. Adam tensed for a moment and sighed. He never was a fan of their schemes. “What kind of plan?” he asked her reluctantly. “I’m glad you asked,” she giggled, almost evilly. The girls explained their idea to their wide-eyed younger cousin. He stared at them in disbelief. “Wait a minute, let me get this straight,” Adam said. “An hour ago, you almost died fighting a fake brute demon,” he said as he looked at Chloe. “And now, you freaks want to summon a real one to try and vanquish it. Do you have a death wish? Do you need to talk to someone?” he questioned. “Come on, Adam, you can heal now!” Chloe said proudly. “I can’t heal you if I’m dead! I can’t heal you if you’re dead!” he all but screamed. “Okay, okay. Keep it down. We don’t want the parents to hear,” CeCe shushed. “Listen, I am not going to public school next year. I am going back to Magic School even if it means I’m going alone. You don’t have to get involved if you don’t want to. I’ll just do it myself,” she said as she started to get up. Adam caught her wrist. “Wait,” he gave in. “You don’t have to manipulate me. I don’t want to go to a human school either. I’m in.” CeCe’s face brightened. “Yes! You are the best cousin ever!” she exclaimed as she and Chloe both attacked him with a hug. “Yeah, yeah. Get off me. You two owe me for this,” Adam said pointedly. “I’ll give you my notes from Wiccan History and write all your spells for you this year,” CeCe offered. “I’ll help you with potions and tell you if any of your crushes like you back,” Chloe promised. “Deal,” Adam grinned. “Okay, great. Call for the book.” CeCe told him. “What? What if your mom is using it and it just orbs out by itself?” he asked. CeCe rolled her eyes. “She’s out of town, the only other people here are our parents and they are currently arguing downstairs. Get the book,” she pressed. Adam sighed and held out his hands. “Book of Shadows,” he called. The book appeared in his hands with a swirl of white light. “Let’s get to work,” Chloe cheered. With that, their preparations began. They studied the Book of Shadows and found every scrap of information that was available on brute demons. Unfortunately, not much was available that they didn’t already know. They had to write both a summoning and a vanquishing spell, which was more difficult than they thought, especially since they couldn’t really practice them. They could only make sure that they were as specific and accurate as possible, and pray that they worked. The cousins were very thorough. They went over every detail and every possible thing that could go wrong and made back up plans to cover that. If the vanquishing spell didn’t work, they hoped that CeCe’s combustion power would be enough, but during their potions lesson with Grams the next day, they brewed a potion that replicated it just in case. “Hey, Grams?” Adam asked, flipping to the right page in the book. “Would it be possible if we could make this one today?” “Why?” Grams eyed him suspiciously. “I’ve always been jealous of you and CeCe. I want to know what it’s like to blow something up! Besides, you wrote the recipe for it right?” His words were dripping with feigned innocence and flattery. A slow smile spread across Grams’ face. “Yeah, okay,” she agreed, but the suspicion never left her eyes. She wasn’t born yesterday. Adam sent a covert wink to the girls when Grams was distracted. After they brewed and played with the potion, Chloe made sure to stash a few vials in CeCe’s desk drawer. The next part of the plan was to perfect using the crystal cage. This was purely to be sure that they could get the job done before they got attacked and things started going wrong. It would be humiliating if they needed their parents to bail them out. Adam and CeCe both orbed to the attic late at night so he could practice sliding the last crystal perfectly in place. When they felt confident enough, they put their plan into motion. One evening after training, they set up the crystal cage in the conservatory. Chloe called their parents into the room and joined Adam and CeCe, potions already in hand. When their parents arrived the three of them began summoning the brute. When he appeared, Adam slid the last crystal in place using his power. The brute began to fight to escape from his prison. The cousins joined hands and recited the spell they wrote together to vanquish him. The demon burst into flames signifying that their spell had worked. The cousins reacted excitedly, thrilled that they were successful. When they were done celebrating, they looked over to their parents, who were wearing varying expressions of shock and amazement. “Did our fifteen-year-old kids just…” P.J. stammered. “Mine is fourteen,” Chris stated. “Was that a brute?” “I didn’t think there were spells to summon or vanquish brutes,” Wyatt pondered out loud. The older Halliwells were impressed with their children’s performance, but that didn’t save the teens from a lecture about how recklessly they behaved. By the end, they admitted that the cousins had proved themselves and they would be allowed to stay enrolled in Magic School. CeCe, Chloe, and Adam were thrilled. Of the nine magical Halliwell children, three remained at the school and the younger six were pulled out and sent to public school. The oldest three cousins were excited to see what it would be like to go to school with demons. Excited, but also terrified. It was a thrilling mix of emotion. They couldn’t wait for school to be back in session.

**A/N** I wanted this to just be a nice little recap and then to get right into the story, but they had other ideas. I am but a vessel, so who am I to argue? The boys are coming next chapter I promise!

#charmed 1998 #charmed hq crossover #haikyuu!!#SWCtS #future magic school AU #all photos from google dot com #OCs

5 notes · View notes

inspired-by-the-music · 4 years

Text

For You

Chapter 7: Love

Taglist: @jineunwootrash

If you would like to be added to the taglist of any of these blog’s works, please ask!

Laying with Taemin should have been uncomfortable because a) I always slept alone, b) I had never been so (willfully) close to another person, and c) we hadn’t known each other long enough to justify my wish to stay so close forever.

When I pointed out in a whisper that we had only shared our first genuine conversation under the moon a few nights ago, I saw the outline of Taemin’s frown in the dark. His voice created small vibrations in his chest (where my head laid over his sky blue pajama shirt) when he asked, “Do you think I’ll have to love you for years before my feelings count?”

As evidenced by the ragged breath that fell from his mouth, I hurt Taemin’s feelings without even trying. All that kept me from apologizing immediately was the fear that whatever I said might deepen his frown; so, instead of speaking, I felt around for his hand, pressed my freezing palm against his— warm— and threaded our fingers.

“I really want to know what you think, Lei.” He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.

What did I think?

People rarely asked me, yet I tended to overthink my position on a given issue until I had exhausted every possible opinion. Maybe I was preparing for the occasion that never came— when somebody other than Lucas may value my outlook— until Taemin decided to wear my ribbon.

Although I had thought of little other than Taemin since that night in the garden— or maybe it started that night by the lake— I had no concrete thoughts. That’s why I stuttered, “I— I don’t know. I want you to love me or like me—”

Taemin said, “I do,” and I imagine that should have been the happiest moment of my life.

So why wasn’t it? Why did that ache in my chest return? Why did I long for him as if he were worlds away when I was in his arms? When would this— our bond— feel real?

“Then I want to believe you when you say that—” I didn’t pause to consider that I sounded like I was calling Taemin a liar— “but it sounds too good to be true.”

Taemin must have realized that there was nothing he could say. We were at another impasse. Silence fell over us, and I didn’t want it to stay, so I spoke through the discomfort.

“You have to understand who you are to me, Taemin.” Calling him an idol— stripping him of his humanity in such an intimate setting— was the worst thing to do.

Tracing my thumb along his knuckles, trying to feel that he was real, I carefully continued, “You are somebody I’ve admired for years. Yours is a voice I cherished long before you had anything to say to me. I loved you before I met you, and—” I hoped he wouldn’t think less of me for believing, “the problem with dreams coming true is that you always wake up or the dream becomes a nightmare.”

Taemin must have been shocked by my honesty. Seconds or hours or eternities passed quietly before he said, “I think that you should learn to enjoy dreams— if that’s what we are— as they happen. I think you can ruin the night if you spend the time worrying about what could happen when the sun rises.”

Of course, it occurred to me before that worrying achieves nothing. On some level, I always knew that I could benefit from learning to live in the moment— finding that balance between being a successful idol and being a happy person. Yet, it was as if Taemin had turned on the light with his gentle warnings that were always prefaced by the phrase, “I think,” because he was too humble to boast, “I know.”

I already decided that I didn’t want to be lonely.

Then, as silence fell again, I decided that I didn’t want to be incapable of appreciating beauty until it had faded out of my grasp. That’s why I lifted my head from Taemin’s chest: I wanted to admire him. I wanted to really see him clearly.

I didn’t expect that he would be looking at me as if patiently waiting for me to return his gaze.

Before I could sort through my thoughts, I was saying his name. “Taemin, I just really want you to be here when the sun rises.”

If he was as shocked by the mid-night declaration as I was, he certainly didn’t show it with that radiant smile. “Okay,” was all he said before holding my head against his chest where I heard it: his heart was soaring, racing, beating for me like mine was for him.

. . .

Interviews— although often uncomfortable— were never as unbearable as a solo artist as they were as a member of SuperM. Part of the issue was that, without my phone, I couldn’t scroll through social media to educate myself on the popular topics of gossip.

It wasn’t so shocking when the first interviewer asked if Lucas and I were a couple. That question had been following us for years and (I guessed) the rumors about our supposed undying love were amplified by LX2’s existence.

I was winded, however, when the rumors started to stray from Lucas. Almost daily, in my place between Ten and Mark (or English line, as the fans called us, since our knowledge of the language facilitated the American interviews), I sat with my hands clenched into tight pale fists, jaw set, as I waited to discover which member I was alleged to be sleeping with this time.

The interview started, as they usually do, with a relatively unoffensive question: “Who from Korea do you keep in touch with while you’re on tour?”

The host was a middle-aged man— bearded and wearing glasses and a t-shirt— who twitched with every frequent sip from his coffee mug. He listened with feigned interest to the other members who answered with some variation of the fact that they stayed in contact with the members of their individual groups (except Baekhyun, who replied, “Super Junior’s Donghae,” just to watch my fists tighten in their place in the lap of my black skirt), before fixing his stare on me.

“What about you? You’re a solo act outside of SuperM, right?” It was promising at first, the realization that he had done some research, but my hopes that maybe— finally— I was participating in a legitimate interview crashed with the following question. “Do you have a boyfriend back in Korea that you text every night, you know, just to tell him, ‘hi, I love you, I promise I’m not hooking up with any of my superstar bandmates?’”

Questions like that made my blood boil. He didn’t want to know my answer. He didn’t care who I talked to or who I loved. He just wanted to watch me squirm as he pried into my personal affairs.

“Yes,” I said as calmly as possible, “I am a solo artist. No, I do not have a boyfriend in Korea—”

He raised his eyebrows, probably, in preparation to ask if my boyfriend was touring America with me, but I continued, “When I’m on tour, I try to find time to talk to Joy of Red Velvet or Amber Liu. If I need advice on something related to my performance, I’ll waste no time in calling Girls’ Generation’s Taeyeon.”

Why didn’t anybody ever ask about my friendships with those girls? It seemed wrong that everyone should be so fixated on my romantic relationships — of which there had only been one that was held as our precious secret— when I would have been more than happy to share the friendships that shaped me as a person and as an artist.

That interviewer seemed to share Baekhyun’s recently developed interest in making me as uncomfortable as possible. He asked the group, “So, was it hard to teach your new girl all of the choreography? Just how long did it take her to get it?”

In situations like that, I liked to think that I was somehow misunderstanding the question or mistaking the tone. Sometimes, that was the only way to keep myself from snapping. Sometimes, that was the only way I could sit there, legs crossed, without shattering my perfect posture and perfect smile.

Ten’s temper was as bad as mine— worse, actually— so I didn’t fully succumb to my irritation when he rolled his eyes at the question. I didn’t acknowledge that I had a right to be uncomfortable, that the interviewer was truly being rude, until Kai leaned forward to tap Mark on the shoulder and request, “Translate, please.”

As soon as Mark translated the question, Kai replied in rapid-fire Korean that I couldn’t quite keep up with, “That’s a stupid-ass question. Lei isn’t in the group just because she’s a girl or because she’s pretty or because she’s popular. She’s here because she’s talented. And we’re not here to answer stupid questions that belittle our members.”

We all stared at Kai as he sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting his lips. Ten and I, wearing twin stunned expressions, looked (along with the interviewer) for Mark to translate Kai’s answer.

“I — uh—” Mark stuttered— “Kai said, no offense— I added that part— but that question is kinda— no, really disrespectful to Lei.”

Ten agreed, jumping at the opportunity to strike the interviewer with his sass. “Yeah. For us NCT guys—” he gestured to the other NCT members— “although some of us are older, Lei is, like, our senior because she debuted first. We didn’t have to teach her anything. She teaches us.”

Mark translated Ten’s comment for the others, and Lucas and Taeyong murmured in agreement.

I shook my head despite the affection swelling in my chest. “No, that’s not true. You guys teach me a lot.”

The interviewer’s stare was all that kept me from saying that Taeyong taught me about leadership, integrity, and honest communication. Ten reintroduced me to the joy in dancing, which (for me) had become less of a soulful expression and more of a mechanical execution of choreography. Lucas taught me so much— too much to describe with words— but the most important lesson was to laugh like nobody is watching even though somebody was always watching. Mark reminded me that people— some people— even in the entertainment industry are good just for the sake of being good.

And I loved them for that, so I declared, “I love my members,” including (of course) Taemin, Kai, and Baekhyun (even though he was a little demon). I meant it so earnestly that I forgot to consider how my words could be perverted.

“Yeah, but which member do you love most?” The interviewer winked.

Gathering from my glare at his perversion of “love,” the interviewer redirected the question to the other members, asking, “So we all know it’s happening— who’s sleeping with Lei?”

Granted, I was technically sleeping with Taemin. We would never admit it in an interview, but we had fallen into the habit of falling asleep in the warmth of each other’s embrace. Maybe, then, my blush was caused by the embarrassment of a) having such an intimate aspect of my life aired publicly and b) having it questioned with so little understanding and respect.

Before I spoke my mind, Mark said the stupidest sentence in recorded history: “Look, man, as bandmates we’re all involved with each other, but we’re not, like, involved.”

Ten started growling, “What—” before I cut my eyes away from Mark to tear into the interviewer.

Of course, he didn’t shrink under my stare or burn from the flames flung by my narrowed eyes. It didn’t matter that he seemed to delight in my reaction; I spoke the truth not for his benefit but for mine.

“Aside from being disgusting— the fact that you can only look at me and see my worth as some sexualized creature— it’s appalling that you spread these rumors with absolutely no regard for how it affects my image and my career. These guys—” I shrugged in reference to the other members— “are expected to priorities their relationships with their fans above all else—”

“Don’t you think that’s a little ridiculous, though?” The interviewer slurped into his microphone as he took a sip of his coffee. “Don’t you think these guys should date if they want?”

Yes. Of course, I did. They deserved to do whatever would make them happy.

“What they do is none of my concern.” The words were diplomatic, but my tone was not. “It is a problem for me, however, that this narrative painted by those, like yourself, in the media depicts me not only as a disgraced idol but— more importantly— as somebody willing to squander artistic opportunities by sleeping with everybody in a band. Learn to respect me as a woman, an idol, or a human being. Take your pick.”

My hand raised to detach the microphone from the collar of my white button-down top cut just above the navel, but it paused when he asked, “If the standards are so harsh on idols— especially women— don’t you think you’re obligated to challenge the standard?”

His question— spoken so casually as if he weren’t advocating mindlessly for the impossible— should have stunned me silent. It didn’t.

“No,” I said not because I was the perfect idol, not because I wanted to uphold that illusion in that moment, but because I was emboldened by the reality, “I am an artist, not a revolutionary.”

Before the interviewer could challenge me further— before I could act on the pulsating desire to rip the microphone off, throw it onto the ground, and stomp it under my unnecessarily high red heels, Mom intervened with the muttered excuse that we had other events to attend. She even thanked that bastard for his time.

I know that was her job— I knew that then— but I felt too angry, too betrayed, to look in her direction afterward. Our relationship wasn’t even remedied in the car when she returned mine and Lucas’s phone with the instruction, “Behave from now on. And brace yourselves for the incoming social media storms when that interview is broadcast.”

Lucas was so thrilled to have his phone, his true best friend, returned that he dropped his arm from its protective place around my shoulders.

Instantly my screen lit from notifications of fans’ reactions to that interview. It must have been a live broadcast. Not quite ready to face praise or criticism, I locked my phone and shoved it into the narrow space between mine and Lucas’s body.

With my face burning from the realization that there would be no opportunity to edit or retract any part of my outburst— not that I really wanted to— I rounded on Mark, who sat right behind me (beside Taemin who, of course, sat beside Kai).

“What the hell was that about, Mark?” My imitation of his voice was so accurate that in the seat ahead of me, Ten threw his head back in a bitter sort of laughter. “‘We’re involved, but we’re not involved? What kind of stupid shit—”

Taemin had been smiling when I first turned around, but his expression turned to one of complete bewilderment. His understanding of the incident must have been limited by the interview’s language barrier. He whispered to Kai, “What’s wrong?”

As Kai (who had been donning a scowl that rivaled mine since his outburst) tried to explain the situation to Taemin, Mark stared at me with eyes so wide and guilty that I would have forgiven him instantly if I hadn’t spent so many years swallowing my frustration that I could no longer package my emotions back into their appropriate internal boxes.

“I’m sorry,” Mark stuttered, “I didn’t mean to say something so stupid—”

“Well, you did!” Ten whirled around to yell at him, brows angled and ears crimson. “If that’s going to be your contribution in interviews, I’m kicking you off English line!”

Mark argued, “You can’t kick me off English line! That’s not how it works! As long as I know English, I’m on English line—” he laughed nervously and reached for my shoulder— “right, Lei?”

Usually, I probably would have laughed along with Ten before siding with Mark. Even in that moment of rage, I worried that I was being too harsh on Mark. It wasn’t really his fault that the media (and that interviewer in particular) was so problematic. Still, that concern didn’t prevent me from crossing my arms, turning around and tugging sharply out of Mark’s reach, and fixing my gaze on the back of Ten’s seat.

As if sensing that I wanted nothing more than to go deaf to Ten’s bickering and Mark’s incessant pleas for me to “please turn around” and forgive him, Taeyong tossed me a pair of earphones and an apologetic grin— if you can really call it a grin.

Even after I plugged the headphones into my phone and tried to drown my anger in the music flooding into my ears, I rolled my eyes when Mom’s voice raised to snap, “Be quiet back there! I’m on an important call!” before saying into the receiver, “I’m back, Heechul.”

I could only vaguely hope that neither she nor Heechul would say anything loudly enough for Baekhyun, sitting in the passenger seat (one of the perks of being the leader), to hear.

Although Amber, Joy, and Taeyeon had brightened my day with their support, I didn’t feel like running to the pool with the guys when we returned to the hotel. While they were immersed in excited chatter, I beelined to the elevator, rejoicing when Baekhyun told Lucas (who must have been trying to follow me), “Give her space. If she’s anything like Momager, you don’t wanna be around while her temper is flaring.”

I wanted to be alone, but not because my temper was flaring. My furious blush had been abandoned in the car hours ago. Mostly, I was sorry for snapping at Mark— too sorry to look at him or even think of him without picturing the pained expression that settled on his face when I yelled at him— and bothered that my relationship with Taemin had been so misconstrued by that gross interviewer.

Bothered wasn’t a strong enough word, but I don’t know how else to describe how I felt. It wasn’t quite anger; my face would have been burning still, and I would have been grinding my teeth and balling my hands into fists as I pressed my back against the cold wall. It was more like sadness (but without the pain in my chest) because tears were blurring the edges of my vision, and my lips were trembling.

The tears weren’t quite ready to fall, so I was standing there with hands ready to catch them when he forced his way through the closing elevator doors. I don’t know if the doors were even closed before Taemin had his arms wrapped around me.

Because I hadn’t expected him to be so close again until the moon rose, I gasped at the contact, too stunned to return the affection. It was over as soon as it started, over well before the sounding of the chime announcing that we had arrived on our floor.

Neither of us spoke until we were inside the room, safe from prying eyes. Although we were still wearing our clothes from the day of interviews, although the sun had not yet set, Taemin sat on the bed we called ours— which was still unmade because we had to run downstairs after ignoring our first alarm that morning— and opened his arms for me.

The version of me who crawled to him wasn’t the same person I had been for most of my life. The version of me who was comfortable with wanting Taemin, who didn’t feel weak for leaning on him— she was a good person. I wished to be her all the time. I was hurt by the outside voices that said I couldn’t be.

Taemin didn’t ask me to explain why tears were swimming in my eyes, but I did. “I know that we can’t tell other people what we have. I don’t want to waste my breath explaining things nobody can understand anyway. But why do people who don’t even know us have to try to take what’s our and make it into something— something less than what it is?”

Taemin’s fingertips that traced the skin below the hem of my shirt were uncharacteristically cold; they made me shiver. “I don’t know,” he mumbled, “and I’m sorry that happened. I’m sorry I can’t carry more of the burden for you.”

I looked at his face and saw it in the tensing of his jaw: the frustration that he hadn’t been able to understand when I was under attack, the bitter knowledge that (even if he had known) he couldn’t have defended me without arousing suspicions that we were in a relationship.

Unlike the Lucas rumors that, despite persisting through years of rejection, carried no real weight because they were untrue, rumors about Taemin would have been suffocating because, to some degree, they were true. How would I be able to deny an outright allegation against us? Even if my words lied, my face would convey the truth that Taemin was my first love.

I was going to tell Taemin that he didn’t have to carry any burden for me— I only wanted him to hold me like this every night to brace me for the next day— but when I looked at him, I couldn’t speak. He was dressed as Taemin the idol, and for a fleeting second, I transformed into the version of myself who couldn’t believe that he was real and in this place with me.

“They can’t take what’s ours, though.” He linked our hands, smiled brightly, and he was real. “And that means nobody can make it less than what it is.”

Taemin pressed his forehead to mine. I imagine that he was giddy with the realization that our relationship— although unconventional and undefined (‘soulmates’ who weren’t ‘dating’)— was as significant to me as it had always been to him. I imagine that he might have kissed me if Mom hadn’t knocked on the door.

As I leaped from the bed to answer the door, Taemin snatched something from his suitcase, slid into the bathroom, and locked the door.

I carefully swallowed the red-hot anger I had been harboring toward Mom (since she thanked that interviewer for his time) before opening the door. She was on the phone again, but she held it away from her ear when I ushered her into the room.

She sat perched on the edge of the still-made untouched bed, placed the phone by her side, and said, “You know, Lei, as your manager, I have to discourage you from ever repeating your behavior from that interview this morning.”

Had I been able to find my voice as I stood there, staring down at her with tightly clenched fists, I would have wanted to spit back that I would say exactly what I said that morning every day for the rest of my life because it was true. The thing is, though, I think that kind of honesty was a once in a lifetime thing. The circumstances that prompted that outburst were a perfect storm; placed in an identical situation tomorrow, my voice might fail me.

“But as your mother—” a bright smile overwhelmed her stern expression— “I have to say that I’m very proud of you for standing up for yourself!”

When Mom flew off the bed to throw her arms around me, I wrestled with the thought that maybe she struggled to find the balance between mom and manager as much as I struggled to find the balance between human and idol. I thought she was a good mom and a good manager, and I might have told her if she hadn’t released me to grab her phone from the bed.

“There’s somebody else who wants to speak to you too.”

From that mischievous glint in her eyes, I should have expected Heechul’s voice to burst through the speaker when I held the phone up to my ear.

“KID—” he would always call me ‘kid’ no matter how old I was— “I AM SO PROUD OF YOU! NOBODY HAS EVER BEEN AS PROUD AS I AM OF YOU—”

I smiled as I held the phone away from my ear, squirming at the realization that if Heechul was congratulating me, I must have been a rogue idol.

Had anyone been paying attention to us, they would have noticed that Taemin and I walked to the pool together. Of course, we were careful not to hold hands or allow our gazes to linger, but whenever Taemin was near me, I felt that there must be some outward evidence of our bond.

I knew that it was better that the others were too engrossed in their volleyball game (except Ten, who sat on a sun chair in a well-shaded corner) to notice us until Lucas and Kai wildly beckoned for us to join the game. Yet, although I hadn’t so much as whispered to Lucas that there was something between me and Taemin, I was always slightly disappointed when none of these people— who were my closest friends— noticed what (to me) was impossible to ignore.

Taemin, clad in black swimming trunks, dashed to Kai’s side, but I explained my reluctance to join the game. “I don’t wanna get my hair wet.” Really, though, I didn’t want to shed my denim shorts.

As I walked to claim the seat next to Ten, Baekhyun cupped both hands around his mouth and yelled, “Lei! Bring me a drink!” and pointed to a small blue cooler.

When I held a freezing Sprite out to him, standing a safe distance from the edge of the pool because I expected him to pull me into the water, I teased, “You should really use your manners, Baek. ‘Please’ and ‘thank you’ are nice words.”

He swam over to me, opened the drink, and winked. “Thanks. Ya know, you should follow your own advice and go thank Ten over there.”

I wrinkled my eyebrows at Baekhyun as he gulped the drink down in one sip. “Why?”

“Ah!” Baekhyun beamed at the can as if it contained the best drink he had ever tasted or as if it had been his first drink after months of wandering through a desert. I rolled my eyes at his theatrics, and he laughed. “Oh! Because he came up with the best plan to get Momager and Donghae— Momhae, as I call them— together!”

Miraculously, nobody turned their head at Baekhyun’s hollering. I blinked at him as if that were an adequate defense against his devilish smile and feigned ignorance as best as I could. “What?”

Knowing that he had done enough to get under my skin— he had done enough to flash his hand without showing all the tricks he held up his sleeve— Baekhyun shrugged. “Why don’t ya ask Ten about it?” He suggested before swimming back to the volleyball game, leaving the Sprite can empty at my feet.

After tossing Baekhyun’s trash into the bin, I sat next to Ten. Pulling my sandaled feet onto the chair, I tried to study his expression to gather whether he actually knew about “Momhae.” Because he was wearing huge black sunglasses that covered most of his face, I couldn’t piece anything together.

I didn’t even know if Ten noticed me until a smirk tugged at his lips. “Like what ya see?”

I hadn’t even been looking at Ten like that, yet the suggestive lilt of his voice painted my face a pale pink. Maybe Ten couldn’t see my blush through his sunglasses, but I tore my gaze away anyway and sat back in my chair, arms crossed over my short cropped t-shirt.

Ten lowered his glasses to delight in my reaction to his teasing. Something about that sparkle in his eyes annoyed me— emboldened me to reply, “No, not really.”

Realizing that I wasn’t playing along with his flirtations, Ten’s jaw dropped (maybe to ask what was wrong with me), but I didn’t give him a chance to speak. “You shouldn’t be talking about my mom’s personal affairs with Baekhyun of all people.”

Ten only said, pitch high from confusion, “What?”

And I realized that Baekhyun tricked me into bringing Momhae up to another member. When he waved at me (just before Taemin launched the volleyball at his obnoxiously large head), I thought I could have murdered Baekhyun.

Ten knew absolutely nothing about Mom and Donghae. He probably hadn’t considered anything about Mom’s life outside of being a manager until I opened my big mouth. Now, he was looking for me to explain my outburst, and I only had time to briefly thank God that I hadn’t mentioned Donghae’s name before Lucas plopped down onto the foot of my chair.

I could have barked at Lucas for shaking his head like a wet dog and soaking me with pool water, but I was too grateful that he had come to dig me out of this awkward situation with Ten. Once he opened his mouth, however, I realized that Lucas was there to worsen matters.

As if Ten wasn’t sitting right there, still staring at me, Lucas said, “Dude, Lei, I’ve been meaning to tell you since, like, the start of the tour that Taemin likes you.”

Had I not known, I might have been as shocked as Ten, who sat up so quickly that his sunglasses fell onto the ground. “What? Taemin likes Lei?”

When my instinct was to hiss for Ten to be quiet, Lucas narrowed his eyes at me. “Wait. You’re not surprised enough. Did Taemin already tell you he likes you?”

I never stopped being surprised by how perceptive Lucas was. Usually, that trait made him a remarkable best friend because it enabled him to know when I was troubled without requiring an awkward exchange of feelings. In that moment, however, I wanted to kick Lucas for somehow knowing everything.

I didn’t lie exactly. “I don’t think Taemin likes me.” I didn’t think; I knew.

Neither Ten (who just liked to tease everybody) nor Lucas (who just wanted to know every intimate detail of my life) was satisfied by that response. When they continued to pester me about Taemin, I had to adopt the same tone I used in the interview to scold, “Cut it out, guys. I still have to sleep in a room with him tonight and for the rest of the tour, and you’re making it weird!”

My heart was still racing after they ceased their demands for more information. I was so overwhelmed by the fact that I had almost shared my two deepest secrets— Donghae’s love for Mom (which was directly related to her true identity as the idol who never debuted) and my love for Taemin— that I retired to my room early without apologizing to Mark, which was the entire reason why I walked down to the pool in the first place.

21 notes · View notes

littleprickproductions · 3 years

Text

Hardware Vs Software in Production

Hardware in the production world.

Ok, I'll be honest, as far as hardware goes in my production process it starts with my NI S61 midi keys and ends with my Presonus 5s, with unfortunately nothing in the middle but my mac and audio interface. I know there are hardware gurus out there that would be shocked that I even call that hardware, but my point is, I’m a complete novice. From using VST plug-ins to create sound to mastering with software equivalent reverb and everything in between; ninety-nine percent of my whole production process is software. During the course of this blog, I have been given the opportunity to use real-life hardware versions of the VST plugins you find in your software library, and ask the question what place does hardware have in this increasingly digitised world?

My goal throughout this process, along side testing hardware, is to create three tracks form the hardware being tested each week and therefore giving the hardware a good run and the shot it deserves at proving its worth.

Private link to Tracks:

DRUMs & BASSes

Being an aspiring Hip hop producer, I decided to begin week one of my hardware pursuit in the way I start most of my tracks, with drums- and boy it did not disappoint. More specifically the Arturia Drum Brute Sequencer. The sequencer allows you to trigger drum sounds at certain times through a 16step sequence and then shape the sounds to suit, including tone decay and velocity adjustments. One early finding with hardware and something to bear in mind, it's not as easy as just uploading a software VST and away you go. “VST” is an acronym that stands for Virtual Studio Technology and was introduced by Steinberg Media Technologies in 1996. It was invented as a way of adding real-time audio effects to audio tracks recorded on a computer. It elevated the computer from being a MIDI sequencer and audio recorder to becoming the fully-fledged audio recording, mixing and producing platform that we know today (Vincent, 2019). Hardware requires essentially more hardware to support the integration with your chosen DAW and enable recording of the audio. In this case the MOTU 624 Audio Interface. An audio interface is in the simplest of terms a router for your audio signals with line inputs and outputs to allow playback from the hardware through to the monitors. If I were to use the drum sequencer as my only hardware, the simplest way of connecting the hardware would be from the sequencer to the interface via jack lead, or even simpler, directly with midi to the computer. However to do this project justice I will accompany each piece of hardware with at least a second, maybe more, to encourage creativity and hopefully give the hardware a real chance at proving its worth. Besides, you don't just create drums on a track and call it quits, do you?

Introducing my second hardware instrument, the Moog Sub Phatty. The Sub Phatty is an analog (also known as subtractive synthesis) synthesiser, designed for low-end bass. I found this to be a very powerful synth and very interactive, once I managed to get my head around the basics, and look at it as I would any software synth that I would load into my DAW, Serum for example. Choose an oscillator wave type, add a filter, adjust the envelope and so on. I was flying! Straight away I found it so intuitive. There's something about being able to interact with a synth, the same way you would learn to play an instrument. This by far is the biggest pro I've found when using hardware at this point, due to the contrast between having the knobs and keys in front of you and playing them, over moving the mouse and then drawing midi notes as you would with the software equivalent.

I find that physical interaction fits a lot smoother into the creative flow over clicking a mouse.

Routing Diagram

Bibliography

-Vincent, R. (2019). What Is a VST? All Your VST Questions Answered! Retrieved December 8, 2020, from Careers In Music.com website: https://www.careersinmusic.com/what-is-a-vst

Midi Integration

My first impression with this week's hardware was just how scary it all looks, especially the Korg Volca and the JP-08. The JP-08 is a remake of the 1996 FM synth, the JP 800. FM or Frequency Modulation Synthesis is based on the use of at least two oscillators; a Carrier and a Modulator. The Carrier Frequency is most related to the pitch or the fundamental frequency and is usually controllable with a keyboard or other MIDI input. The Modulating Frequency is used to alter the Carrier at a specific Modulation Rate and Modulation Intensity or Index (Mantione, 2017). This session showed the importance of reading manuals. One downside of hardware, that unlike software synths, is that you cannot just install and click away. In this case, there were many procedures I had to follow to get even the smallest soundwave. My advice would be to follow the signal path due to the hardware requiring a clock source to keep all parts time/tempo synced. So I began by sending the Midi Clock from the DAW (used at the master clock) to a Midi Motu interface. Midi stands for Musical Instrument Digital Interface. It was introduced by Robert Moog in October 1982, with the idea that one universal language could be used to support various instruments. However no audio is passed through midi, instead, it sends a series of digital binary signals (1s and 0s) which the computer, instrument or Midi interface then transfers to the audio signal. (Wreglesworth, 2018)

From the midi interface, midi signals are sent to the individual hardware (to keep them synced), then audio to the mixer and on to an audio interface- ensuring each element is passing a signal to the next and so on. Secondly, ensuring all inputs and output through the DAW are set correctly, in this case, output to midi and input from the audio interface. Eventually, after many attempts and using my own advice of following the signal paths, we have audio!

The next step was to create some recordings, which began by inputting midi notes to trigger midi signals. I found this a great combination of both software and hardware. Using the DAW to write the notes and then use the JP-08 to modulate the sound. This allowed me to concentrate fully on the sound development itself while playing the notes on a loop, tweaking the oscillators, envelopes and creating modulation until I found a sound that I liked. From there it was a case of repeating the process, layering multiple sounds over different octaves, creating sounds and filling the frequency spectrum. Using the Roland TR-8 sequencer to add a drum pattern in a similar way as the DrumBrute in previous weeks, and a third instrument- the Korg Volca, I had everything physically in front of me to compose a track.

Routing Diagram

Bibliography

-Mantione, P. (2017). The Basics of FM Synthesis. [online] Pro Audio Files. Retrieved from https://theproaudiofiles.com/fm-synthesis/.

‌Wreglesworth, R. (2018). A Beginner’s Guide To MIDI: What Is It? How Does It Work? Retrieved from Musician’s HQ website: https://musicianshq.com/a-beginners-guide-to-midi/

Synchronisation and Collaboration

Synchronisation is a broad term and occurs a lot during the creative process, especially when using hardware. Previously I've spoken about hardware being synchronized with other hardware by the use of midi to match tempo through a master clock from the DAW. However in this case, I'm exploring synchronisation with others. Synchronous meaning happening, existing, or arising at precisely the same time (Merriam-Webster. n.d.). Most weeks I've had the opportunity of working with another person when using the hardware set-ups. This weeks set up is somewhat similar to last weeks, we’re using the Roland TR-8, the Roland TB-3 and the Novation Bass station. Having a second person there to bounce off, one experimenting with drums on the TR-8 and the second on the Bass station playing with melodies, very quickly sparked innovation and creativity. Once we heard something we liked whilst vibing of the energy of one and another, we began to develop further to create almost a full track/performance. We’d record melodies and loops and then experiment with effects on the mixer to create risers and evolve the piece, whilst adding a creative depth. However, I am aware that the ability to be able to play side by side with another in a room is not always going to be a possibility, especially with the cost of studio time and the rise of home studios. This is where we were introduced to Ableton Link. Ableton Link is a technology that keeps devices in time over a wired or wireless network. Link is built into Live as well as a growing number of iOS applications, and any Link-enabled software can play in time with any other Link-enabled software simply by joining the same network.

Link allows two or more users of the same local network to sync clock, use audio hardware collaboratively and share audio stems. If a local network is not available, users can use ad-hoc (computer-to-computer) connection to do the same (“Link, Synchronisation, and ReWire — Ableton Reference Manual Version 10.,” n.d.).

I found this process extremely creative as both users can share ideas and bounce off each other's energy. However there are things to consider, users have to be flexible and open to the fact that there is going to be differing opinions on direction, including BPM of the track, key and genre to note a few.

Routing Diagram

Bibliography

-Merriam-Webster. (n.d.). Synchronous. In Merriam-Webster.com dictionary. Retrieved December 8, 2020, from https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/synchronous

The Power of Modular

I have been using a Human interface device throughout this whole process without realising exactly what it is. A human interface device can be defined as a type of computer device that ordinarily takes input from humans and gives output to humans. While the original plan for the HID specification was based on the idea of a standard for human input devices, the acronym itself was changed to human interface device as it became clear that the standard would support bi-directional communication, meaning both inputs and outputs (“What is a Human Interface Device (HID)?”, 2020). However, this doesn't just apply to the use of synthesizers. By definition, this applies to any device that allows humans to interact with computers, from pointer tools such as a computer mouse to the output of the speaker audio. For me, the use of hardware throughout this module has identified the importance of choosing the correct HID for the task. Which brings me my next piece of hardware. Modular synthesis.

Simply put, a modular synthesizer is an electronic musical instrument that consists of a multitude of different components (modules) that are used and combined to create electronic sounds (“Modular Synthesizers - A simple explanation,” 2019). Modules are connected via patch cables, to create and develop sounds and effects. Once an initial sound is produced, more modules can be introduced to modulate carrier waves and effects, and more added again to modulate that modulation. In theory, the possibilities are endless and once you've found your feet with the initial sound creation and the signal path, it becomes very intuitive and evidently a creative HID. I rapidly learned it would be my body that would fatigue far before the sound creation possibilities with the modular. One negative aspect was that as all the hardware was timed and sequenced to the clock it was difficult to fail. This being said, it is important to remember to stick to any goals set before starting, as the rabbit hole with this one goes a long way down.

It's great the fact that you can go, oh ok what does this do and experiment, however, if I specifically decided I want to modulate the hi-hats, for example, a certain amount of knowledge is required to enforce this.

Routing Diagram

Bibliography

-‌Modular Synthesizers - A simple explanation. (2019). Retrieved from t.blog website: https://www.thomann.de/blog/en/modular-synthesizers-explained-simply/

-‌What is a Human Interface Device (HID)? (2020). Retrieved December 8, 2020, from Total Phase Blog website: https://www.totalphase.com/blog/2020/08/what-is-human-interface-device-hid/

Evaluation

Over the past few weeks, I have had the opportunity to explore hardware synthesisers, sequencers and mixers- learning in detail the processes of what it takes to set up hardware through the application of midi and audio interfaces. I've learned how creative and intuitive hardware can be, through the use of different types of human interface devices, and exploring how using many different approaches can affect the speed, ease and development of the music-making process. To begin I learned the basics of hardware set up. Through the use of manuals and tutorials, I gained confidence in my ability to be able to be given a new piece of hardware and use it to create and record soundscapes. I learned very quickly not to judge the hardware on its looks, especially when it comes to modular. Once I broke the process down and followed the signal path, I learned that use of hardware wasn't as scary as it looked. It didn't however come without its complications. Throughout the weeks, I discovered that hardware is a lot more complicated to set up than simply plugging in a VST software instrument. Sometimes even if everything looks like it should work, it doesn't, and it can take a long time to gain even the simplest sound. However, it has definitely been worth it. It is difficult to deny the fact that hardware, and the ability to play the hardware as an instrument, is extremely creative. Especially in comparison to my usual desk with a mouse and keyboard. Hardware still firmly has its place in the production world, and I encourage anyone who has the opportunity to explore it, to go and do so. However, I believe the combination of hardware and software is the best equation when the end goal is creating music.

5 notes · View notes

thegeminisage · 4 years

Text

the south is like another country

i have an entire essay on how the current radicalism and steep political divide in this country can be traced directly back to the civil war - rural white southerners here playing the part pre-ww2 germany, the part of a resentful, conquered nation assimilated into the nation that conquered them, because if you think about it the south/the confederacy WAS its own nation for a time, that lost a very bloody war, and paid very steeply for it (not that slavers didn’t deserve every bit of misery the “carpetbaggers” threw at them), and the bitterness from that loss/the lost capital from having their slaves freed has been handed down through the generations, to people who now live in abject poverty while their livelihoods are destroyed by late stage capitalism, and their schools are so broke a lot of people here don’t even know how to read, and their towns are eaten alive with meth, and they’re still looked down upon by most of the country for being racist uneducated backwater hicks (to be clear, we should always look down on racism and racists, but it’s not making them any less bitter/ripe for being drawn into the cult of tr*mp’s america and f*cism).

but anyway this post isn’t about that! this post is about how when i go up north and i say “y’all it really is like i’m living in a different country” NOBODY BELIEVES ME. we speak the same language, we’re all americans, right? PFFFFFT. this amazon van thing just drives it home (pun intended). here’s a list of differences from the deep south* to the rest of the country*:

*the deep south here meaning the RURAL deep south. sorry to everyone who lives in cities/the suburbs and/or in border states like maryland and virginia. i’ve been to maryland and virginia and they are technically southern and some of this applies to them but it is not quite as extreme as it is here. the rest of the country includes the other states i’ve been to (california, washington state, new york, etc), which are in mostly every area except the midwest. i cannot personally vouch for the midwest. sorry, midwesterners! rural midwest probably has a lot of things in common with the deep south because rural life is different and also how easily people move around this country, but whatever

this is a long-ass post get ready

difference #1: DRIVING. driving & pedestrians are entirely different un rural areas vs urban areas. for starters, southern towns often do not even have sidewalks. this is because of 1. budget and 2. racism.

budget: rural towns are very spread out, and it costs major $$$ to put sidewalks in. it’s just not worth the trouble, financially, to put a sidewalk where only 12 people are ever going to use it, AND spend the money to maintain it. never gonna happen. racism: initially, suburbs especially in the south were seen as safe havens where people could get away from the stress of living in “urban” (re: integrated) areas. that the neighborhoods were only accessible by car and NOT by people who were too poor (black) to afford automobiles were just an added bonus.

as such, the first time i left the southeast, i was SHOCKED to see people walking and biking WITH (or indifferent to) the flow of traffic. down here we are taught that if you are walking along the road (or biking, because bikers get lumped in with pedestrians down here), it is very very very crucial that you walk against the flow of traffic, because you cannot expect drivers to see you and not mow you down. the onus is on YOU to get out of THEIR way. additionally, walking in knee-high grass along the side of the road sucks, and because there aren’t many people here, the roads are usually totally empty. so oftentimes pedestrians just straight up walk ON the road. and if you do that you absolutely have to be able to see a car coming from a long way away, because rural drivers on completely empty roads tend to take them at extremely high speeds just for fun. the people who live diagonally across from me have had to replace their mailbox four times because folks take that blind curve at 90mph. i had a cat get hit by a car on that road. (they all live indoors now.) i even witnessed a car accident happen there when i was just outside minding my own business. ever see a tire fly 12 feet into the air and come down into someone’s windshield? that’s what happens when you hit power line pole driving like that.

the first time i ever encountered one of those pedestrian crossing buttons was in california in the early 2010s. i had literally never seen one before because we simply don’t have them here. they’re not very self-explanatory if you have been jaywalking your whole entire life because all you’re taught to do is look both ways and make sure the street is empty before you cross. northern/urban roadways are made so that pedestrians and drivers can both get to where they’re going. in rural/southern areas pedestrians might as well not bother.

interestingly, while not an entirely southern problem, there’s a loose correlation between rural areas and more problems with drunk drivers.

on the driving side, driving in a city is batshit insane. it’s both faster and slower. there is NO space and you’re expected to go whenever you have so much as an inch to worm your way in. there’s more traffic, and the traffic totally dictates your speed. in the south you can change lanes if you want to drive faster or slower and weave around traffic or let it weave around you, but in a city there’s no other lane to change to and if you don’t drive at the speed of the people ahead of and behind you you will die. you turn fast, you brake fast, etc. whenever i come back from driving in a city the people who ride with me think i’m insane. you don’t PULL ONTO A ROAD if you can SEE ANOTHER CAR THERE, what the fuck? meanwhile i’m like “lol that is six miles of space i have plenty of time” and give everyone in my vicinity heart palpitations until i readjust.

tailgating in a rural area is something only assholes do (done by people on a two-lane road to encourage the person in front of them to go faster because the only other lane is for oncoming traffic), and if someone gets within one car length of me on a two-lane road i can very passively aggressively slow my vehicle to a crawl until they back the fuck off. in a city you’re lucky if you have a twelve inches between your bumper and the next car’s hood ornament.

difference #2: LANGUAGE. this is a small one, but the southern dialect combined with the lack of literacy means i am learning certain things late in life. phrases i have heard verbally with my ears but had never seen written out include: “chest of drawers” which i thought was “chester drawers” - “seven year itch” which i thought was “seven year each” - “albeit” which i thought was “i’ll be it.” i’ve made a deliberate effort to unlearn mine own accent/dialect but i run into weird shit all the time. remotes are mashers, shopping carts are buggies, you put stuff up instead of putting it away, i fix you a drink instead of pouring you one, we shoot the game instead of play it. my mom LITERALLY can’t understand me if i speak too quickly - she has to remind me all the time to slow down and put on my southern.

difference #3: TECHNOLOGY. issue of whether or not you personally have the creepy amazon vans aside, the rural south is behind the rest of the country on technology. things in cities are AUTOMATED. things like the little button you press to cross the street, tickets you take at parking garages, even the parking meters you find in cities, that’s just the beginning of it. one time i came across a little computer touch screen in a MCDONALDS where you put your order in. you didn’t even go up to the counter. you just put your order on the screen and swiped your card and then they got it ready for you and you never had to speak to a human person. self-checkouts, gas pumps where you can swipe your card and not go in and pay at first...the south got those YEARS behind everybody else. in the mid-2010s i went to DC and visited a target for maybe the 5th time ever and i was BAFFLED by the self-checkout. i had no idea how to use it! it was like less than ten years ago and i was IN MY TWENTIES and i had never seen one before! when we send a package we have to talk to a human person. when we order food we usually have to talk to a human person. apps for places like dominos and subway have not been in use here for very long. my county just got doordash LAST YEAR.

because i am 31, and because the south is so technologically behind, i am actually old enough to remember how when you used to go to a gas station an attendant would not only pump your gas but wash your windshield for you while you just SAT IN THE CAR. that seems like something from the 50s but it actually was a thing here in my childhood IN the 90s. i wish i was making this up.

difference #4: INFRASTRUCTURE. this sort of goes hand-in-hand w/ the last point because so much of our infrastructure is made of technology, and it’s also more of a rural/urban thing than a south/north thing. but just for fun here’s a non-exhaustive list of things i don’t have in my town:

starbucks* - the first time i went to a starbucks i was in my 20s

a public pool - we used to, but now the only pool here requires a YMCA membership. the only baseball diamond in this county is also at the Y.

walmart

in fact, ANYWHERE to buy clothes that is not a goodwill or other secondhand store. i cannot buy clothing unless i order it online or LEAVE MY TOWN. almost all of the clothing i own is from walmart because it’s one of the only places in my entire county where you can actually PURCHASE clothing.

grocery store chains? pffft. my town has two entire stores and both are small southern chains. i didn’t go into a publix for the first time until two years ago when i went to florida. i’ve NEVER entered a whole foods.

food delivery? yeah, no. like i said, we got doordash last year, but before that the only place you could get delivery from was a pizza chain. we only have two pizza places in my town that deliver, and one is a local place, not attached to any chain, so i can’t spend my loyalty points there. (it’s very expensive there too.) last year it was CLOSED for six months because the manager got caught dealing meth. every last one of the delivery drivers was trafficking it for him. they all got fired and had to restart from the ground up. for that short time, it was not possible to get any food delivered to your house whatsoever.

a hospital/ambulance services - if someone is sick, we have to take them to the hospital in laurens, the town next door (about 15-20 minutes by car). the town i live in lucky - we have our own police and fire departments. (acab but you know what i mean.) joanna is a smaller town next to mine that isn’t a real town - it’s been demoted to a census designated area because only 2000 people live there. if they have an emergency, they have to use OUR fire and police departments, and LAURENS’s ambulance/hospital system

after-school places kids can go to keep from getting into trouble. we have the Y, if you have money (no one here has money), and we have churches, but mostly schools can’t afford to run too many extracurriculars. there’s nothing to do here but church and meth.

food banks: zero. we have food DRIVES sometimes where people will come from further away and bring free food, but if you’re hungry, there’s nowhere you can go for help - you have to wait for help to come to you.

libraries: we don’t have our own library. we have a branch of the county library that’s physically located in our town. but we share books with the rest of the entire county, so everything is always checked out or at the other branch.

*we technically have a starbucks that’s in the local college campus, but only college students are allowed to be there. they’ll still serve people without a college ID because no one gives a fuck, but you can’t linger and loiter and hang out like you do in a normal starbucks. we also have one in the barnes and noble in greenville, which is about an hour away by car, but again, it’s a mini starbucks that serves a limited menu and none of that weird Starbucks Culture™

here’s a few things i don’t have in my ENTIRE COUNTY:

movie theaters - technically. we have a Historial™ one-screen theater in laurens that shows one movie for two weeks a month after it hits regular theaters and then switches to another, and if you miss it, too bad. this is a VERY recent addition - it wasn’t restores until i was in my 20s as a kid and a teenager i had to ride in a car an hour or more to go to the movies.

target. only commies and yankees have target. down here we do walmart.

malls

arcades

skate parks/skating rinks

bowling

museums

zoos/aquariums

campgrounds

fairs. our county fairground got razed a decade ago because there just werent enough people showing up to justify the expense. so no more fairs. you have to have people to fund things and down here there just aren’t enough people anywhere.

you get the idea. we don’t have entertainment. like i said, nothing to do but church and meth.

CLASSES FOR STUFF: knitting classes, dancing classes, driving classes? nope. gymnastics, karate dojos, golf, knitting groups, books clubs, cooking classes? [GAMESHOW BUZZER]. you can’t even hire a clown for a birthday party out here. we do have a shooting range. ONE. in the entire county. and a race track. and a rather infamous former kkk memorabilia store. they made a movie about that (serious tw for this trailer - they’ve got white hoods, burning crosses, pepper spray, the whole nine), which, yes, takes place in laurens, aka right next door to me. i used to walk by that place all the time when i was playing pokemon go. haven’t seen the movie but the shooting locations in the trailer make laurens look a lot bigger and prettier than it really is in real life - especially the racetrack, which, in the trailer, is actually PAVED. (this is inaccurate to real life.)

EDUCATION: lots of people can’t read. we have two schools for illiterate adults, one religious college, and one branch of one of the state colleges that has a skeleton staff and a fuck ton of computers (you basically just go there to distance learn/e-learn - if you want to take real classes from this college, you have to drive at least an hour.)

support groups/group therapy: almost none. we have al-anon and weight watchers, but that’s about it. there’s only half a dozen therapists in my entire county, and none that operate from my town. mental healthcare down here is bullshit.

on food: we don’t have many sit-down restaurants, where servers bring you your menu and your food. if you don’t count waffle houses, my town has 4. my county has 9. in and out, 5 guys, applebees, ruby tuesday, red lobster, olive garden, panda epxress? forget it. those places were and still are rare treats. i’ve only been to an olive garden twice. red lobster once. whenever i leave my county i BEG for chinese because there’s only two chinese restaurants in our entire county and one of them is crazy expensive and the other one sucks.

we also don’t have the more important stores you need to like, live. if we need to exchange our router at a charter store? yeah, we don’t have one. need to visit the sprint store to get your phone repaired? nuh-uh, we don’t have any phone stores either. my family recently switched to at&t because it was the only company that had a physical location in our county. before that, we had to drive an hour for even the smallest repair.

on a grimer note: we don’t have homeless shelters! homeless in laurens county? too bad for you. we do have homeless PEOPLE. they just have nowhere to go except the churches

hospitals? only kind of. like i said, our county has one, but it’s not equipped to take seriously sick people. when my mom had a heart attack she had to be driven straight to greenwood, which is 45 minutes away if you’re not in an ambulance. they obviously made it faster than that, but still. that was scary. it took them a long time to get here. i had a distant relative of mine die before the ambulance made it because they were SO far out in the sticks, even further than me.

we also don’t have any specialty stores. sporting goods, gamestops, shoe stores, florists, craft stores, bookstores, best buys...forget it. if you can’t buy it at walmart, you just can’t buy it. the exceptions: my TOWN has one jewelry store, two hardware stores, and two auto repair stores. my COUNTY has three clothing stores, none of which are in my town, one place that sells used TVs, and one movie rental place. thrilling, right? i can rent a movie if i drive out of town. (i know streaming killed the rental business, but we also only had two places when i was a kid, if you counted the rental section in the grocery store.)

so, yeah. i know the term “shithole” is really loaded these days, but rural areas are just plain less developed, and often in seriously poor repair because nobody fucking uses them. there USED to be more stuff here - my mom was on a bowling league, and as a kid i had a birthday party at a skating rink - but late stage capitalism and drugs destroyed it all. people ran out of money to do things like skate and bowl and so those places closed. the south is full of empty store fronts and deserted strip malls slowly being eaten by kudzu. my brother got out of this town and whenever he winds up back here (not often) he remarks on how completely and utterly dead everything feels. “my friends who live in greenwood now think they’re all rural,” he said once. “they complain constantly about how remote it is. but they have no idea. they wouldn’t make it five minutes out here.” greenwood has its own movie theater, mall, starbucks, homeless shelter, food bank, and hospital.

so, yeah! if you were wondering what rural white southerners are so fucking mad about, that’s part of it. propaganda and xenophobia and racism has their anger directed ENTIRELY at the wrong people, but it’s hard to argue that the anger itself isn’t just a little bit justified.

difference #5: CULTURE. specifically culture around food, and the culture around the civil war. i could write an entire other essay about the culture of the church being everything because the church IS the only semblance of infrastructure we have and this is why the south is so homophobic, but we’ll skip that for now.

food: this is a quickie, because i sort of touched on it already, but there are like, almost NO vegetarian options here. there’s very limited choices of cuisine. it’s ALL waffle house and soul food. we have a lot of mexican places because we’re physically close to the mexican border, but aside from that, forget finding like indian or thai or japanese or anything like that. no sushi. forget finding a menu that has meals that are halal or kosher. there’s just. no culture here. no variety. you know? like i said, our entire county doesn’t even hit double-digits for proper sit-down restaurants.

civil war: i’m not going to go into the big stuff since i sort of covered it at the top and also this post is getting way too long, but to other white rural southerners there is legitimate baggage around the fact that my mom married a yankee and that i am half-yankee. and he’s not even a real yankee! he was born up north but raised in southern florida. (florida is weird. the further south you go geographically, the less southern you are culturally.) yet: my family makes jokes that are sometimes not jokes about this. when i drop this information in casual conversation people get that look on their faces like: ah, that explains it. it being that i am not religious and don’t laugh at racist jokes and maybe i am queer?? (strangers tend to be unsure about this last part, even when i’m wearing rainbows.) it’s because i’m half-yank! that explains everything! the xenophobia is SO strong here that white people are even xenophobic at OTHER WHITE PEOPLE.

so in conclusion when i say the north is like another country, it’s because the people who raised me think of it like another country. and culturally! it is buck wild! the differences that there are! when i leave this town i feel like i step into fucking star trek! if you are not from the rural south, and you have never been to the rural south, please do not come here! i’ve been to a few different places now and this is definitely my least favorite one.

#personal #i guess #it's ok to rb if you want to though??? tbh i don't think most people will even get to the end lol #anyway here's my college lecture about the south it's not very good or college level actually lmao #this is AIRQUOTE FIELD STUDY AIRQUOTE #the experiences u have as a half-yank white person in the rural south are crazy #bc other white people think you're okay to listen to them say what they REALLY think #and then backtrack rapidly when they realize you aren't #now that i'm grown and woke i can't believe half-yankee is even a thing.#anyway this post brought to you by the maddening realization of how technologically far behind we are #WE DON'T EVEN HAVE THE CREEPY AMAZON VANS #the automated package sending...what i wouldn't give not to have to talk to people to mail stuff #rip. :/

8 notes · View notes

wehavethoughts · 4 years

Text

Six of Crows Review!

Six of Crows

By: Leigh Bardugo

YA Fantasy Novel

Henry Hold & Company, 2015

Rating: 4.5/5 Waves

Summary: Six rag-tag teens are offered the job of a lifetime: more money than they know what to do with and all they have to do is spring a scientist from the most heavily fortified prison in the world. A daring adventure filled with magic, love and betrayal.

The review CONTAINS (mild) spoilers for the novel Six of Crows.

Content Warning for Six of Crows: Blood, Violence, Death, Forced Prostitution (mentioned), Fantasy Racism, Sexism, Slavery/Indentured Servitude

“No Mourners. No Funerals.” – All of these wonderful characters right before they do something insane.

I can’t tell you how refreshing it was for me to pick this book up and read in three days. It’s been years since I’ve found a book that I simply could not put down. From the writing style to the pacing to the clever characters, this book had everything I didn’t know I needed. Before I dive into why this book knocked my socks off, I want to give a shout out to the several friends who recommended this book to me over the years (you know who you are). You were right! I loved it <3

Aside from how highly recommended this book was, I knew pretty early on that this book was a great fit for me. The first clue was that there are not one, but two maps in the front. I might be the only one, but a good map to start off my fantasy book always puts me in a very good mood. In my version of the book, the maps are illustrated by Keith Thompson and they are beautiful. The detail and imagination that went into these maps, particularly the Ice Court schematic really allowed me to immerse myself in the story, especially since one of the characters actually sketches the Ice Court in the novel. It is so easy to imagine Wylan hunched over a piece of parchment drawing this spectacular map.

My second clue that I would love this book was that it is a heist novel. In fact, knowing that this book was about a fantasy heist was at least half the reason I decided to read it, and Bardugo did not disappoint. What I find to be most compelling about this heist story is how she lays out the mission as nearly impossible, but never gives the reader a reason to doubt the characters’ resolve. Sure this heist seems insane and doomed to fail, but our faith in the characters keeps the reader invested. Bardugo also did a great job with her foreshadowing. The plot twists and the way the characters solved their problems, while surprising, always made sense in hindsight. There were never any instances where I felt like Bardugo used her magic system to ‘cheat’ the character’s out of a bad situation or where the characters were just so clever there was no way I could have ever guessed what they were going to do. The book kept me on my toes, but it never made me feel stupid.

As I mentioned in my About Page, I love me a good magic system, and Bardugo delivers fun and vibrant magic with clear rules and expectations that just beg to be broken. She also does a great job integrating the magic into a world that feels complex and expansive. This world has both a history and a future in a way that makes me feel like the author put a lot of good work in and loves this world as much as I do. My favorite detail is how Bardugo used language and language barriers in the story. The main cast are from different countries within this world and logically speak different languages, though fortunately most are multilingual. I just love the little details like how Wylan speaks schoolroom Fjerdan because he learned it from his tutors and how Matthias only just learned Kerch during his time in prison. It gives the world a fun realistic dimension.

Hands down the best thing about this story is the characters. Usually at this point in the review I have to sigh and tell you that it was a fun book but the diversity was lacking. Fortunately for us Bardugo gives us a beautifully diverse cast of well rounded and compelling characters. Of the six main cast, only one is an able-bodied straight white man (I am making some assumptions about Matthias’ sexuality so you will have to forgive me) and in an age where I am still reeling from the Avenger’s lineup this crew was a breath of fresh air. Every single character comes out of the gate interesting, three-dimensional and just a delight to read. This book is constructed so that every chapter we switch point of view and I found myself excited to see how each character thought and reacted to the wild situations they ended up in. Also, the way Bardugo gets the reader to care deeply for her characters does a fantastic job in creating high stakes with real tension. I found myself holding my breath and flipping pages with much more force than necessary during some high stress scenes. Even the characters that were clearly not good people had me checking my moral compass from time to time and cheering for them anyway.

I think it’s also important to include how much I liked the writing style of this novel. Everything I listed above wouldn’t have been nearly as enjoyable if the flow and pacing of the writing were not enjoyable to me. This novel is written in a fairly typical YA style of fantasy, fast pace and dialogue heavy, which I loved. There was enough description that I never felt lost, but I also never got bogged down in details I didn’t care about. Bardugo also made a fun choice to break the book up into six parts and at the end of each part there are two full black pages with the part title. The first couple times I mostly ignored it, but when a character is in physical danger and you flip the page and it’s just black! That is a great use of your physical medium! I got chills.

I have one nit-pick that didn’t deeply affect this book’s rating, but could be a deal-breaker for other readers. First of all, this novel is the first in a duology and it does not stand on its own as a story. While the main conflict does get resolved, another plot starts in the last couple chapters and the story does not end at the end of the book. It is clear that a single story has been broken into two books and it came as a shock to me. Fortunately, unlike the poor suckers who read this when it came out in 2015 and had to wait a whole year for the sequel, I only have to wait about a week for my library to have it available. Still for people who want a stand alone book or enjoy when all of the books in a series have a neat and tidy ending, this is not the book for you.

The two things keeping this book from a perfect score were the fantasy racism and how the women were framed in this world. I am using the term ‘fantasy racism’ because there is systemic oppression in this fantasy world and that systemic oppression is a clear metaphor for real-life racism, but in the story the minority group is the one with magical powers and not an ethnic minority. Generally, I think this author did a good job at showing the damage institutionalized racism can do to specific countries and the world as a whole. What I did not enjoy was the sub-plot of one of the main cast (Matthias), who was a member of the highly bigoted ruling class of the most racist nation in this fantasy world, overcoming his racism not through critical thinking or learning to understand the value of lives that are different from his own, but rather because he fell in love. I am open to the idea of racists learning to respect the cultures they were prejudiced against and when done right can be a very powerful thing, but when romance is the key motivator it feels very hollow. Also I have trouble conceptualizing a woman of the minority group falling in love with someone who is literally a part of the military death squad in charge of hunting down her people (Nina I know he’s hot, but what the hell?). Either way, the idea of reforming a racist with the power of love is not a trope I enjoy in my media.

The second thing keeping this book from a perfect score is the treatment of the women characters. One thing I noticed early on is that nearly all of the women characters had been forced (either financially or physically) into prostitution or slavery. It makes the reader think that in this fantasy world the only places to find women are the brothels or in chains. This world is vibrant and full of so many interesting things and people, yet for women the world seems so very limited. I found myself disappointed that even in a novel written by a woman, a well loved character is described during the climax as ‘a half-naked girl in shreds of teal chiffon’. To be fair, I have read fantasy books that have done their women characters much, much dirtier, but it’s unnecessary and exhausting. I notice it even in small doses and I’m sick of it. Fortunately, neither of these issues I had with the novel got a ton of page-time and there was always something else going on that I could focus on, like the strong female friendships and the brilliant disabled protagonist.

Tldr; Overall, best book I’ve read in a long time. I couldn’t give it a 5/5 because of some issues in how the fantasy racism and women were handled, but I would still highly recommend this novel to anyone who likes fantasy stories, diverse characters and/or a really good heist.

~TideMod

#TideMod #book review #fantasy novel review #six of crows #soc #soc spoilers #spoilers #fantasy #heist #leigh bardugo

12 notes · View notes

athrowawayjournal · 4 years

Text

Meanwhile in North Western Europe

My friend told me about a conversation which brought her to tears (or at least nearly), by shattering her sense of self confidence: because of her last name, an interviewer (this was for an international position - the interview took place in English) had asked her "where she was from, and why she decided to come to thus country". She, of course, had been born and raised in said country. She was shocked, hurt and offended - all at once. I felt for her at first, feeling her pain, but then when I thought about it, it made zero sense to me.

I wondered why I did not understand her feelings about that simple question... of interest? Or was there something else to it?

I know the question all too well - it is usually the second or third question people ask me upon meeting me, often even the first. And then it dawned on me: the question made complete sense to me and would not offend me, because I am used to it. My Grandmother still jokes about the time an adult asked me the question when I was around two, and I replied with the name of the city we had just moved from. But then when I grew older people did not laugh, but posed the second question "no, I mean where you are really from?" I then figured out I had to reply my birth country, in Africa.

It made sense to me, because if you are black, this is a normal question to ask. Obviously, you cannot be European if your skin is black. This sentiment carried out by most people around you, gives you a sense that you do not belong from an early age, and thus you are not shocked when people confirm this. In the news, in Parliament, in school, even in your circle of acquiaintants.

We focus on "integration", not segregation, like those silly Americans. But do we really? I remember an incident where I - how ironic! - was looking for a spot to study for my law exams. A lady who apparently thought I was lost said: "Oh, you (as in "tu", not "vous") must be looking for the language course!" I kindly replied in her language that I in fact was not, and she said: "Oh, but if your friends want to learn Dutch, let us know!"

It is patronizing, it is painful, but most of all, I saw through the eyes of my friend it really tells you you're not like us, and for all you try to integrate (or in my case, have been a part of the culture for all your life and not even know any different culture) we will never fully see you as one of us.

It was quite interesting for me to realize how much of that I had already accepted and even adopted. I guess I am a product of my culture in every sense I possibly could be - even in thinking of myself as foreign.

#foreinger in europe #black #black lives matter #racism #white #expat #english #my culture #african

3 notes · View notes

adstargets · 4 years

Photo

How To Make Money Blogging Ultimate Guide ($7,000+ a Month) https://bit.ly/2WqnPW8

If you are wondering how to make money blogging after a few months of some valuable blog posts, you are not alone.

In fact, there are hundreds of thousands of bloggers out there asking the same questions such as "How to make money with a blog".

It will also shock you to know that there are hundreds of solutions out there written by other bloggers sharing their income strategies.

what made this different is that, you are getting a full package of what you need to do from scratch to start your blog and make real money blogging shared by an experienced blogger.

I have been blogging for over 8 years, I ranked hundreds of blogs that made real money for me and my clients over the years.

In this blog post, I am going to explain in plain language step by step and all that is involved having a great blogging career.

So first of all, I will assume you already have been blogging for some time and started getting some reasonable traffic before the search for ways to monetize your blog.

First things first, let's clear some myths about blogging

Can you really make money blogging?

According to Google asked the question, this is one of the most asked questions by bloggers or people aspiring to start blogging.

The answer to this question is ABSOLUTELY YES!

You can really make money blogging. In fact, there are bloggers that make 7 figures blogging such as Arianna Huffington of the Huffington Post is known to make over $2 million and considered the word's richest blogger.

Also, another rich blogger is Michael Arrington, the founder of TechCrunch makes over $800,000 a month from this Tech blog.

Other bloggers like Neil Patel makes over $300,000 blogging about digital marketing and so many others making around $100,000 monthly blogging.

This only proves that it's possible to make money blogging.

Image credit: Problogger

In another survey by blogging.org, 1000 bloggers were surveyed and asked how much money they were making: About 81% never make $100 from blogging

#1. About 9% made enough to sustain their personal lifestyle blogging 4-6 hours a day

#2. About 8% make enough money to support a family

#3. About 2% make $150K+ blogging 1-2 hours a day

#4. With this evidence, you can agree with me that you can really make money blogging.

Here is how to start blogging

I assume you already have been blogging or have your blog set up already.

If NOT, I will refer you to take your time and read in detail how to start a blog and all you need to need to start growing your blog traffic in the button below

How to start a blog and make money blogging

You will learn step-by-step all that is listed in the image below to get you started the right way to avoid errors.

To get started with your blog, get a great hosting plan and a free domain here with all the benefits

Click here to Sign up

Best blogging platform to make money

Wordpress is hands down the best blogging platform to make money. This blog you are reading right now is created with WordPress.

The reason why the majority of professional bloggers use WordPress as their blogging platform is the following

Wordpress is very easy and flexible to use for both beginners and professionals.

Search engines love it as it takes care of 80% of your SEO issues.

Endless customization opportunities to design and optimize your blog appearance.

Wordpress gives bloggers the opportunity to integrate third-party functionalities using various plugins.

It's built for all. Everything you want or desire to do with your blog, you can do it with WordPress.

It's the most popular blogging platform and loved by all Webhosting companies and they all have WordPress hosting plans to get you started.

Make money wordpress

Hence, WordPress comes with all possibilities to integrate third party services. You have opportunities to build shops and other e-commerce services like drop shipping to help you create recurring income.

This allows you to have payment gateways that allows people to pay for your services and products making you money.

Also, with WordPress, you can have all your forms that lead to your sales funnels plus your email funnels which allows you to control everything within the same platform.

WordPress is simply a money making machine.

Types of Blogs that make money

This is a tricky one! I would say all types of blogs make money. However, there are some that make more because of the niche, industry and the demand around it.

And of course, it mostly depends on your efforts. How much work you put over time.

One of our writers wrote about top blogging niches that make bloggers the most money here: How Niche blogging will make you a smart blogger.

He explains the benefits and discussed each of the types of blogs as well as tips to help bloggers grow their blogs specifically.

Top 10 blogs that make money

Food and Recipes

Food & Recipes

Health & Fitness

Travel and tourism

Lifestyle

Personal Finances

Personal Development

Money Making

Beauty & Fashion

Entertainment

Tech/Gadgets Review

These are the top 10 types of blogs that make insane money. The reason is the high demand and massive organic traffic within these sectors.

Also, there is so much to promote among these niches which give bloggers endless opportunities to make money faster as they grow their blogs and traffic.

Ways to make money blogging

So without further delay, I will discuss some of the most profitable ways you can make money blogging.

So let's get started.

CPA Marketing

CPA stands for Cost per action and the marketing part of it explains how you market the CPA offers to make money with your blog.

This has made the number on our list because it's gradually taken over the traditional blog monetizing practices simply because it pays 200% more than display ads on your blog.

Generally this is how CPA marketing works.

As a blogger, you are required to sign-up with a CPA Ad network and promote offers using a referrer link on your blog widgets. Each time someone signed up for the offer you get paid.

While display ad networks like AdSense may pay $0.5 per clicks or $1 per 1000 impressions. You make up to $15 or more for just one action your visitor takes through a CPA offer you are promoting.

Watch how you can make money with CPA marketing

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B6z0eo-kJJw

The beauty of CPA marketing is that you are not necessarily required to sell products before making money as far as your visitor's register or signup on some of those partner site, you are credited.

Affiliate Marketing

Bloggers make millions of dollars with affiliate marketing day in day out. This is a green light that you can also do the same.

It's not rocket science and involves just a few clicks to sign up, get your affiliate link(s) and start promoting affiliate products to make money while you focus on creating content.

This work best if you promote niche related products or services on your blog.

There are great affiliate programs such as Amazon affiliate which is one of the most popular affiliate programs.

Others include web Hosting companies that also pay very good commissions and multiple affiliate ad networks you can sign up and promote hundreds of affiliate offers to make money.

Sponsored content

If you ever wonder why bloggers sometimes write reviews for brands or company products and services, the reason is pretty simple. They are paid to do so and it's called sponsored content.

Brands pay bloggers to write positive reviews for their new products and services and they pay heavily for those sponsored posts because of the exposure they derive from it.

All you need to do is to contact some brands (businesses) within your niche and offer then sponsored content offers and you be surprised how positive they will respond.

Bloggers charge from a couple of hundreds to hundreds of thousands of dollars for sponsored content.

It all depends on the size of your traffic and reach. Be cautious when asking for the price as overpricing will scare them away.

Sell digital products

You can create or buy digital products with resell rights and start selling them on your blog right from the first day. Digital products also include various training for various digital skills.

The demand for these products is much and growing every day as many people aspire for skills that will create them more income streams or become their own boss by starting up various businesses.

You can buy multiple digital products on Amazon or eBay. Buy then and offer some as gifts and sell some to make money using tools like ConvertKit.

Sell physical products

You can also sell physical products on your blog even though you don't build or create those products and here is how to sell a physical product to make money blogging.

Buy products on websites like Aliexpress and other dropshipping websites, in your country or area. Once you have those products, list them on websites like Amazon or eBay and sell for profit.

Display Advertising

Displaying Ads on your blog to make money is one of the most popular ways of monetizing blogs and still used by most bloggers.

However, it's not the most profitable nowadays which is why is not on top of our list but highly recommended.

The good thing with selling ads or display ads on your blog is this. You make money every day and night as far as your audience keep coming to read your blog.

This is why Google AdSense has over two (2) million publishers using AdSense to monetize their blogs.

AdSense, as well as AdsTargets, are typically the best Ad Networks for bloggers to make money blogging through display ads.

How to make money blogging

Now that you know most of the ways to make monetize your blog and make money. Let's look at how you can actually make money blogging.

Create an email funnel / Email List

Your email list helps you also to market your affiliate and CPM offers as well as other digital and phisical product you may choose to promote on your blog.

Content and Content marketing

Content is really the core or the pillar of your blog money making strategy. Whatever you want to achieve with your blog center's on your content.

Content should actually be your first priority because in this game, content is the king and every other strategy depend on your content.

You should focus on creating unique and quality content. Aim to have at least 100 quality blog posts and well optimized for your relevant keywords.

This way, you will be able to get free quality traffic from search engines such as Google, Bing and others. This will be explained more below.

Search engine optimisation (SEO)

So why search engine traffic? Well, you need search traffic to actually make money and it's the best long term strategy to get quality free traffic.

Everything from setting up your blog, creating content, establishing authority all depend on your search engine optimisation. Here is how you should implement your SEO on the blog (Blog SEO).

#1. Keywords research:

This is the first step of informing search engine what your blog is all about.

Imputing those keywords makes it easy for your audience to find you whenever they search for queries or related keywords bringing you tones of quality free traffic.

#2. Title tags:

On every page of your blog, you need to optimise your title with at least your focus keyword(s) and is should not exceed 65 characters.

This makes it easy for search engines to easily crawl and index your pages as well as understanding what your page is about.

#3. Meta description:

Just like the title tags, your meta descriptions is a bit longer with 165 characters which explain a bit more about your page content.

It is very important you include the same keywords you include in your title tag here as well for consistency making it easy for search engines and people to understand your page content.

Well optimize titles and meta descriptions helps increase your click through rate in search engines results.

#4. Content length:

Content length matters especially when it comes to blog post. On the main page (Home page) of your blog, I will suggest your content exceed 600 words.

The same applies for your blog post. Recommended words should be at least 600 words. However, we advise your blog posts should not be less than 1,200 words.

#5. Sitemaps

Make sure you create at least XML Sitemap in the public html forder on your host.

XML contains all links on your website which make it easy for search engines to find and index your pages and have a better understanding of your content.

You can use free SEO plugins in WordPress to create sitemaps or use free tools like XML Sitemaps to create, download and upload those sitemaps in your host.

#6. Robot txt

Robot.txt file is responsible for allowing search engines to index your websites and links on your website and is a must-have.

You must make sure you have it live at all times in your public_html folder to always give search engines access to index your blog.

This can be done in your Google webmaster tools.

#7. Internal links:

Always make sure you link to other pages on your blog especially pages with similar content.

This is great for your SEO and considered as one of the ranking factors.

Internal linking makes people spend more time on your blog reading your posts which tells search engines your content it valuable which increase your rankings in search engines.

It also helps both your new and old posts rank faster and better in search engines providing more value for your SEO.

#6. External links (backlinks)

External links also known as backlinks serves as recommendation or upvotes for your blog to search engines.

It basically tells search engines that your content is valuable which is why other blogs are referring their visitors your content.

This has a massive impact on the overall rankings of your entire blog and individual blog posts.

Guest blogging is another great way to acquire backlinks. You will have to reach out to your niche related experts and ask to write for them to get backlinks.

How to start a blog for free and make money

There are multiple free blogging platforms that allow you to start a blog for free such as Wordpress, bloggers spot, Tumblr, Wix, Reddit, github.io etc.

In fact, you will pretty much do a lot with these free blogging platforms such as monetizing with Ads, selling stuff, collecting emails, affiliate marketing and much more.

If you would ask me my opinion about using free blogging platforms.

My advice would be this... Please budget at least $100 and start a blog by buying a domain and a hosting plan to start blogging.

Treat your blog like a business and you will make more money blogging than using free blogging platforms.

People and other business partners won't also take you seriously. Some Ad networks might not even accept your registration.

Conclusion

Blogging is a business and should be treated as one if you really want to make some money blogging.

From the first day, you decide to start a blog, map up a strategy to create quality content consistently. Always remember that content comes before anything.

Thirdly, Your blog monetization strategy should be diverse and broad.

This is what really makes you money and make your blogging life more interesting.

Choose a niche you are interested and make it unique in your own way. This will keep your audience engaged and you won't be bored working on your blog.

I wish you all a successful blogging career.

Please, let us know your opinion about this post in the comment section.

1 note · View note

master-sass-blast · 5 years

Text

Found Family, Part One --Wade.

I AM SO EXCITED ABOUT THIS ONE. I HAVE BEEN PLANNING THIS PIECES FOR M O N T H S.

Summary: A brief look at yours and Wade’s siblingship, and all that it entails.

Rating: T for adult language, mentions of abuse/mental health issues/suicide, and mild angst.

Pairings: Piotr Rasputin x Reader and Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson.

@marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie

Some say that the two of you together are a disaster. A cruel joke by the universe unfairly cast upon the rest of society. A recipe for total destruction.

You know better than to buy into what any of the bystanders and onlookers say. The two of you, while admittedly destructive, are like air to each other; without one another, neither of you would be able to survive.

Wade Wilson is your –adoptive—brother, you’re his –adoptive—sister, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The technical beginning of your wonderful sibling-ship with Wade Wilson starts when you help him prank Scott Summers in the dead of night, but that’s not where things really started. At least, not in your view of things.

No, they start the next day, when Wade knocks on your door half an hour before noon. He’s dressed in the most outrageous, neon pink and green Hawaiian shirt, orange camo jeggings, and bright, ‘fuck you’ blue Crocs.

“You eat lunch yet?” he asks, seemingly oblivious to the way your eyes are blinking their protest at the amalgamation of colors he’s wearing.

“Uh… no?”

“Great!” He loops an arm around your shoulders and steers you down the hall. “Let’s go get some! I’m buying.”

Dopinder, as it turns out, is a sweet and gentle soul –despite his weird thirst for vengeance. He drives the two of you to a downtown diner –and takes Wade’s weirdness with considerable grace and stride, which isn’t something you’ve witnessed from anyone else yet—and drops you off with the promise to wait until the two of you are done eating.

“I’m pretty sure you’re shafting his ability to earn a livable income,” you say as a waitress seats you and Wade at a booth adjacent to a window.

Wade snorts. “As if. One, I tip him in chicken nuggets, which is more than anyone else ever does. B, I’m helping him get into the mercenary industry, which pays way better than driving a fucking taxi ever will. And four, he doesn’t mind.”

You open your menu, start scanning the options, then freeze.

There’s so many choices –fuck, you’ve never even eaten out at a proper restaurant before. Your parents were too focused on ‘keeping you safe’ to let you have a proper childhood, dammit.

“Don’t know what to do?” The corner of Wade’s mouth turns up when you give him a ‘deer in headlights’ look. “I figured you probably didn’t have much experience with this. Russell didn’t either. Consider today your crash course in ‘how the world works.’”

“…Thanks.” You look down at the menu quickly to hide the tears that are already blurring your vision. “Uh, what do I get?”

“Whatever you want! They do all day breakfast here, and –in my opinion—there’s no bad time to eat a pancake.”

You smile. Pancakes do sound good. You peruse the menu for a moment longer, and the waitress is back to take your orders.

Wade orders a mountain of food. If he notices the way the waitress’s eyes bug out while he rattles off his insanely long order, he doesn’t let it stop him. He just keeps going, and her pen keeps flying across the page of her little book.

When he finishes, she turns to you, looking somewhat shell-shocked. “And for you, sweetheart?”

You copy Wade’s method of ordering –but not the length of his order. “Pancakes, bacon on the side, extra maple syrup, please.”

The look of relief on her face is almost comical as she jots that down. She promises to have everything out “as quick as possible,” then takes your menus and walks away.

Wade grins at you. “Look at you. You’re a natural!”

You can’t help but grin back.

You spend the rest of the day with Wade –and Dopinder, since he has to drive the two of you around. Wade takes you to various stores, having you buy yourself something –a book, a movie, a scarf—at each place so you can get used to interacting with people and handling monetary transactions.

You’re touched in a way that you can’t begin to describe. Sure, Professor Xavier and his team of mutants can help you get your mutation-related abilities under control, but no one’s offered to help you integrate into the real world yet. It’s like Wade’s thrown you a life-line you didn’t realize you needed.

When Dopinder drops the two of you off at the mansion, Colossus is waiting for you on the front step, arms crossed over his massive chest and a disapproving frown set on his face. “Taking young ones of property without permission is not allowed, Wade. You know this.”

“Okay, first of all, she’s not a ‘young one;’ she’s over eighteen, which means she’s allowed to come and go as she pleases. Even I know enough law stuff to know that. Secondly—”

“We’ll try to give you a head’s up next time, Colossus,” you interject before things can too far out of hand. “Sorry for making you worry.”

His expression softens considerable as his gaze switches over to you. “That is reasonable. Did you have nice day out?”

You smile and nod. “Yeah. Wade showed me around New York. It was cool.”

“See? I’m cool. Relax, Chrome Dome. I know what I’m doing.”

Colossus shakes his head, but he’s still smiling. “We will make X-Man of you yet, Wade.”

Wade’s full attention turns to you as the metal giant turns and heads back inside. “You were all smiles with him, huh?”

You narrow your eyes at Wade. “So what? Smiling is a normal human thing!”

“Sure,” Wade says, drawing out the ‘u.’ “You like him, don’t you?”

“Only as much as you like Cable!”

It’s Wade’s turn to narrow his eyes. “I do not like Cable. I merely have a ‘healthy fascination’ with him and his metal arm. And his awesome gun.”

You smile sweetly at Wade and step inside. “Glad we’ve got that all settled, then.”

Wade pretty well takes you under his wing after that. The two of you have the same penchant for wild mischief –and fucking with Scott Summers—so it’s no surprise that you get along like ducks and water.

But what no one else notices –which, admittedly, is probably because they’re so used to cleaning up after yours and Wade’s hijinks—is that Wade does more than just rope you into his nonsense.

The two of you need to run to a store to pick up supplies for your latest prankster endeavor? He has you make a list, estimate how much it’ll cost, keep track of the route on Dopinder’s GPS, and puts you in charge of navigating the store while you track down everything you need.

He gets bored of being cooped up in the mansion? He takes you out for an adventure, teaches you how to navigate streets and pick out safe places to duck into if you run into trouble.

He buys you your first laptop and cellphone, shows you how to customize everything for “maximum fun.” (And, when his knowledge runs out, he just sets you down in front of Ellie and has her teach you how to be safe on the Internet and how to avoid getting ten thousand viruses on your computer.)

The man makes sure you get a proper sex-ed course. Not one where he just cracks inappropriate jokes –though there are a lot of those going around—but a real one. The ins and outs of consent, how to avoid getting STDs, basic anatomy, how to spot cancer on both sets of genitals.

And it’s all of this that leaves you convinced that Wade Wilson is one of the smartest persons you’ve ever met.

It’s not hard to learn how to read Wade Wilson. Once you get past all the shock value of the jokes, vulgar language, and weird habits, he’s an open book that has its heart on its cover.

He’s lonely. Not the creepy, ‘I’m forty years old and I’m lonely so I spend a lot of time with people half my age’ lonely, mind you. He’s just… lonely. Sad, even.

He hates his skin. That much is obvious from all the long sleeves and layers he wears, even in the dead of summer. And while you don’t see anything wrong with the way he looks, he does, and that’s the only opinion that matters in his book.

Wade Wilson is also a man that wrestles with a lot of demons. His healing factor didn’t cure him of his cancer, so he faces excruciating pain on a daily basis. The loss of his girlfriend –who stuck with him after he got fucked over by Francis and turned into ‘an avocado that got fucked by an older avocado’—is a gaping hole in his chest that he doesn’t know how to plug. His self-loathing is a constant presence in his mind, and the amount of skin he covers is a decent giveaway for just how much he’s hating himself at a given moment.

He kills himself because he “can’t really die.”

And it’s when you watch Colossus and a few other X-Men deal with the aftermath of one of Wade’s “visits to Vanessa” that you decide that this crazy man might need you as much as you need him.

You happen to catch a glimpse of him in the hall a few days later, decked out in his Deadpool suit.

There’s only two reasons Wade wears that suit: he’s getting ready for a fight, or he’s in the pits of self-hatred (or both). But he doesn’t have his swords on him, which means he’s not gearing up for a fight—

You dart down the hall and latch onto one of his arms. “Hey, dude! I just had this great idea that we have to try.”

“Well, don’t keep me waiting, Aang!” Wade chirps back –but his voice is heavily strained, and, yep, you were right about his mental state. “What do we just have to try?”

You don’t actually have an idea on hand, so you just blurt the first thing that pops into your head. “Dessert burritos.”

Wade cocks his head back and considers the idea for a moment. “Dessert… burritos. Holy shit, you’re a genius.”

You grin –his tone’s brighter, lighter, which means you’ve managed to pull him out of his funk a little.

He grabs your hand and starts skipping down the hallway. “To the kitchen!”

Operation “Dessert Burritos” ends in nothing short of a disaster. You and Wade try to make pancakes to act as tortillas, and since neither of you can cook anything other than instant noodles, you wind up burning every attempt at you make. Three flaming skillets get chucked out the back door and two more are doused under the kitchen sink faucet before the two of you decide to call it quits on the ‘pancake’ alley.

So, then, the next logical step seems to be ice cream sundaes –except that Wade is still stuck on the ‘burrito’ concept, so he tries to wrap ice cream in a regular tortilla, which winds up tasting terrible for obvious reason, so Wade spits it out in the trashcan, except he misses part of his target and winds up spraying the front of the can with half his mouthful of ice cream and tortilla.

And then the two of you wind up unpacking the fridge and most of the pantry to find “sundae appropriate toppings” because Colossus is a health nut who keeps the kitchen stocked with healthy things—

And then Wade wants to try microwaving Gushers because why not, and you’ve never been one to say no to an opportunity to do something you’ve never done before—

And thus is all the chaos Colossus walks in on when he pops his head into the kitchen to see what the two of you are up to.

You’re eating fudge ripple ice cream straight out of the carton with a serving spoon, perched on the kitchen. You wave at him with the spoon as his face goes slack with shock. “Hey, dude! What’s up?”

Wade’s swearing up a storm while he tries to get molten Gusher remains off his face –he’d opted to take his mask off while he ate, and you’re suspecting that he’s regretting that decision now.

Colossus covers his face with both his hands and groans. “Wade—”

“Hey, man,” you interject before he can lambaste your honorary sibling too badly. “This was one hundred percent my idea. Don’t worry, we’ll get it all cleaned up. It’ll be like it never happened, I promise.” You pause, then add “Well, the gushers in the microwave was Wade’s idea. He’s on his own for that.”

“Oh, fuck you!”

“Hey, I told you not to stick your face into the microwave, but no, Pikachu knows everything!”

Colossus just sighs and shakes his head. “You two are destructive.”

“Hey, at least we didn’t short circuit the microwave this time!” You offer him an impish smile. “We’re doing better than we usually do.”

He puts his hands on his hips, looking every bit the stern father –but the corner of his mouth turns up as he shakes his head again. “I suppose you are correct.”

“Yupp. Like I said, don’t worry. We’ll totally handle the clean up and everything.”

He casts a concerned, appraising look around the kitchen, but still favors you with a small smile when his gaze finally settles on you again. “Well, I suppose I leave you both to it, then.”

The two of you have to spend the rest of the day cleaning and scrubbing to get the kitchen back in order. Wade’s none too happy about it, but you do your best to make it bearable for him –music, banter, the works.

And, bonus, cleaning with him means he has to stay with you, which means he can’t wallow in self-loathing. He’s not his bright, bubbly self, but he’s not falling apart either, which is a win in your book.

It’s dark out by the time the two of you finish getting everything put away. Normally, you’d just call it a day, but it’s not hard to see the darkness swimming behind Wade’s eyes—

“Hey, man, you wanna have a sleepover in the rec room tonight?”

Wade gasps, and his eyes genuinely light up. “Sleepovers are my favorite!”

You grin. “They’re my favorite, too! Come on, go get changed and I’ll meet you there. You still need to catch me up on all the reality TV stuff.”

The two of you are getting the rec room set up for the night when you hear Colossus’s heavy footsteps in the hall.

You pat Wade’s shoulder before hopping over the couch. “I’ll deal with him. Pick out something for us to watch. I’ll be back in five, ten minutes max.”

The metal giant himself is in the kitchen, checking up on everything before he goes to bed, it would seem.

You watch him for a couple moments –you don’t miss the surprised expression on his face at the orderly state of the kitchen, either—before making your presence known. “Making sure we held up our end of things?”

The expression on his face is guilty when he looks over his shoulder at you.

“It’s fine,” you chuckle as you step into the kitchen, holding up your hands in a disarming gesture. “I would if I were you, too.”

He ducks his head a little, but he’s smiling. “I do not wish to seem judgmental.” He looks past you –or, rather, over you—and frowns at the glow of the TV. “You two are still up?”

You glance over your shoulder, then step closer to the man of metal and lower your voice. “Wade’s had a rough day today. I just… I don’t want to leave him alone, you know?”

Understanding settles on Colossus’s steel features; he nods. “Da.”

“We’re just gonna hang out for the night, have a sleepover,” you add. “No more kitchen adventures –speaking of which, one of the skillets was not salvageable.”

Colossus huffs out a gentle laugh, crosses his arms over his massive chest, and shakes his head. “Somehow, I am not surprised.”

“You gotta admit, it’s better than our usual levels of collateral damage.”

“I suppose.” He smiles softly at you for a moment before clearing his throat and looking away. “Well, I leave you both to it.”

“Thanks. Goodnight, Colossus.”

“Rest well, Y/N.”

You watch him go for a minute –watch the way the muscles in his back and shoulders ripple as he walks—before you shake yourself out of the daze Colossus never fails to put you in and head back to Wade. “All taken care of. We’re free to poison our brains with reality TV drama all we want!”

Wade doesn’t look up at you when you walk in. He’s seated on the middle of the couch, jaw tight and lips pursed as he stares ahead at the TV screen. “I don’t need your fucking pity.”

You blink, shocked by the sudden outburst and his surly mood. It doesn’t take much to put together that he probably heard your conversation in the kitchen –Colossus’s voice always carries—but even if he didn’t it’s not too far out of Wade’s “normal” for him to assume that he’s only getting the scraps of what decent treatment he deserves.

Either way, you’re not having this argument. Not now, not ever.

You put your hands on your hips and fix him with a stern look. “Good, because I’m not giving you any.”

Your sharp tone makes his eyes widen, and he actually looks away from the glowing screen to stare at you.

“I don’t know if you noticed, dumbass,” you continue, tossing in a mild insult to help him figure out you’re serious, “but I care about you. You’re the one person in this mansion that made sure I’d be able to function in the real world if I had to, and I’ll be damned if I’m just gonna let you flounder when you’re feeling down. And that’s not pity, jackass. It’s called being a decent fucking human being. Got it?”

“Pretty sure it’s pity when the person isn’t obligated to care about you,” Wade throws back, smiling bitterly.

And you understand where he’s coming from. After Vanessa died, all the help he’s been getting has come from the X-Men, and how can it not look like a pity handout when the people helping you have their lives and themselves so extraordinarily put together?

You’ve felt the same way about it on more than one sleepless night.

You let out an irritated huff and cross your arms over your chest. “Fine. I’m hereby adopting you as my brother. Now, as your new sister, I’m obligated to care about you. Are we doing this sleepover or what?”

Wade blinks at you, then grins. It’s tired, and it’s worn down, but it’s not bitter.

You’ll take it.

“Hell yeah we are.” He scoots over so you can sit next to him. “These are reruns of ‘Say Yes to the Dress.’ This one’s the ‘Bridezilla’ edition.”

“Sweet.” You plop down on the couch just in time to see a particularly distraught bride-to-be throw a fascinator at her mother. “Holy shit.”

“Just wait,” Wade says, all too gleeful. “It gets better.”

You wake up in the gray pre-dawn of the next day and nearly smack your head into Wade’s.

The two of you had taken half the couch each, with heads in the middle so you could hear each other talk and avoid kicking each other in the middle of the night.

Wade’s still asleep, one hand holding onto one of yours.

The sight makes you smile, makes you feel a little less despair over the state of the world.

You squeeze his hand, then nudge his head when he doesn’t stir. “Wake up, idiot.”

Wade groans. “Too early.”

“Yeah, which is why I’m putting you back to bed.” You tug him off the couch and walk him towards the main staircase. “Come on. Your ancient back needs a proper mattress.”

“Not ancient.”

“Yes, you are, you geriatric motherfucker.”

You manage to get him up the stairs and to his room without incident. He drops into his bed with a grunt, and you tuck a blanket around him and wait for him to start snoring again.

And then you get to work.

It takes a couple minutes, but you manage to find all the guns and knives Wade keeps on him while at the Institute. You tuck the numerous weapons into your arms, then pad out of his room.

Colossus is in the hall –already dressed for the day, the morning bird. He frowns, concerned, when he sees your armload of weaponry. “What—”

“Don’t worry,” you toss over your shoulder as you walk precisely one door to the left. “I’m not using them.” You kick the door a couple times with your foot, then step back and wait.

Nathan Summers, alias Cable, opens the door a few seconds later. He takes one good look at the guns and knives in your arms, then raises an eyebrow at you as if to say ‘what the fuck do you want me to do with those?’

“Wade’s been in a mood,” you say, as if that explains everything –which, technically, it does. “And you actually know how to store these properly.”

He sighs, but doesn’t look too put-out about it, and opens the door more. “Bring them in.”

You dump the arsenal on his bed when he motions for you to do so, watch as he puts gunlocks on the various firearms and tucks the knives and other bladed weapons into the top drawer of his nightstand.

Colossus watches from the hall, hovering nervously in a way that should not be possible for someone of his side.

“If you’re cool with it, I’m gonna leave a note for Wade to let him know to see you if he wants his shit back,” you say as Nathan tucks Wade’s guns into a duffel bag. “He probably won’t be up before noon.”

Nathan sighs, but nods anyway. “Not like I’m going anywhere else.”

“Thanks,” you say, and you mean it. “I wouldn’t have known what to do with all this.”

“Anytime, kid.”

Colossus watches you carefully as you walk back into the hall and close Nathan’s door behind you. “You… care a great deal for Wade.”

It’s not hard to hear the unspoken question, mostly because it’s easy to see how someone might confuse the easy camaraderie you and Wade have always had for something else. Something… less platonic.

You shrug and tell the truth. “He’s my brother.”

Finding out that Colossus –Piotr, his name is Piotr, and you think you could spend the rest of your life saying his name without ever getting tired of how it feels on your lips—likes you is a world-changing revelation.

You know by the looks Wade keeps sending you throughout lunch, the afternoon, and dinner that he’s going to want a full report on everything that’s happened with Piotr.

You can’t wait to give him one.

You also can’t help but notice the way that the door to Wade’s room is cracked open and the lights are on as Piotr walks you back to your room –ostensibly so you know he’s ‘in’ and will pop in to give him the full rundown, but probably also so he can eavesdrop, the little shit.

But you can’t find it in yourself to care all that much because Piotr’s hand is holding yours and you can’t imagine ever feeling anything better than what you’re feeling right now.

He walks you to your door, smiles fondly down at you. “I have work tonight. I doubt I will see you before morning.”

“So you’re ‘saying goodnight just in case?’” You ask, smiling back as giddy excitement coils in your stomach.

“Something like that, da.” And then he dips his head and presses his lips against yours.

You can’t help but gasp, just a little, and lift your hand to his shoulder to steady yourself.

The kiss ends all to soon –for your liking and Piotr’s, if the look he gives you is anything to go by.

He presses his forehead against yours before stepping back. “Goodnight, myshka.”

“Goodnight, Piotr.” You let your fingers slip from his as he walks away and watch him as he retreats down the hall.

He looks over his shoulder before he turns the corner to head downstairs. He smiles when he sees you watching, and blows you a kiss before disappearing from view—

And then, right on cue, Wade opens his door and grins at you.

You just cover your face with your hands and let out an excited squeal. You’re too excited to be annoyed with Wade, dammit.

He tugs you in his room. “I have snacks. Now, tell me everything.”

The two of you talk for hours, demolishing several bags of fun-sized candies and two packages of Keebler Fudgestripes.

“No fucking way!” Wade brays. “He was pet-naming you for the better part of a year? What a dork!”

“Well, he’s my dork now, so mind your mouth.” You grin stupidly, then squeal as you fall over onto Wade’s bed.

“Oh my gosh, you’re so cute I could die.”

There’s a knock on the doorframe, and Piotr –still out of defense mode, which is gonna take some serious getting used to—pokes his head into Wade’s room. “You are still up?” He frowns when he sees the numerous wrappers covering Wade’s bed. “Did you eat all that?”

You giggle at your boyfriend. “Kinda. We got carried away.”

He shakes his head in an all-too-familiar disapproving gesture, but an amused smile plays at his lips. “Is not good to consume so much sugar this late, myshka. You will be up half of night.”

“Unless I find a way to burn it off.” You grin at him. “Mind accompanying me on a late night stroll?”

He smiles softly at you. “Konechno –of course.”

“God, you two are so barf-worthy,” Wade gushes as you hop off his bed. “I love it.”

You catch Nathan in the hall as Piotr escorts you towards the stairs.

He smirks at the two of you, presumably having gotten an update from Wade and Ellie. “Going somewhere?”

“Just for a walk.” You jerk your head back towards Wade’s room, where light is still spilling into the hallway from his open door. “I bet he could use some company right now.”

Nathan shakes his head and mutters something that sounds like ‘clingy’ under his breath, but he stills strides over to Wade’s room anyway. He pauses at the doorway, frowning. “Did you eat all of that?”

“Yes, he did!” you shout. “You should have seen it; it was horrifying!”

“Lies!” Wade shouts back from his room. “Lies, lies, all fucking lies and slander!”

Piotr chuckles and tugs on your hand. “Come, myshka. Before you get into more trouble.”

You grin as you follow him down the stairs. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Watching Nate finally –finally—kiss Wade is like getting to the end of a good slow-burn book. You’ve loved watching the build-up, loved placing bets with everyone else on when those two would finally get their heads out of their asses and realize they were basically dating already, but God it’s such a relief to see them actually do something other than flirt with each other.

And one good turn deserves another, which is why you dig a box of maple sugar candies that you’d been saving for Wade’s birthday out of your dresser drawer and head over to Wade’s room.

Nathan’s already in there, holding Wade in his arms as they snuggle on Wade’s bed.

You can’t help but grin. “God, you two are so barf worthy. I love it.”

Wade sticks his tongue out at you. “We’re gonna give you and Metallica a run for your ‘hashtag goals’ money. Just you watch.”

“Good fucking luck.” You gesture at him with the box. “Wanna give me the ‘full rundown? I brought snacks.”

“I never say no to snacks.” He makes grabby hands for the box, then gasps softly when he sees the label. “Where’d you get these?”

“Vermont. The school took the kids on a field trip to a maple syrup farm. They’re the real deal.”

Wade tears the box open with all the delicacy of a rabid badger. “You do love me.”

“Always have, bro.”

Nathan frowns down at the little candies shaped like maple leaves. “The fuck are those?”

“Only the best thing on the face of the damn planet.” Wade holds one up to his boyfriend’s mouth. “Open up, sweetcheeks.”

Nate bites off part of the candy. His eyes widen immediately, and he spits the lump of melting sugar out onto a tissue. “Fuck. Too sweet.”

Wade gasps. “I’ll have you know that, as a Canadian, you’ve just committed a heresy. I’m sorry, we’re gonna have to see other people.”

Nathan snorts as he chucks his tissue into a nearby wastebasket. “Can’t get rid of me that easy, gorgeous.”

You can’t help but smile as Wade nuzzles Nate’s shoulder affectionately. “I just wanna say: I fucking told you so.”

“Shut up,” Wade shoots back. “You did not.”

“Wade, how long did I tell you that he liked you? How fucking long?”

“Yeah, well how long did I tell you that our resident steel boyscout liked you?” Wade rolls his eyes, then raises the pitch of his voice. “No, he doesn’t, we’re just friends, he doesn’t feel the same way!”

“I do not sound like that!”

“Uh, yeah you do! That’s why I made my voice sound like that.”

“Listen, asshole—”

“Language, myshka.” Piotr leans against the doorframe, smiling fondly at you. “Be nice.”

You point imperiously at Wade. “He started it!”

“Yeah, and I finished it! No performance anxiety here!”

Nate rolls his eyes. “You’re both insane.”

“Yeah? So?” You pluck two maple sugar candies out of the box –ignoring Wade’s squawks of protest as you do—then nab a tissue from the dresser before turning to Piotr. “Here. Try this.”

He eyes the candy, then the tissue, with admittedly fair suspicion. “What is this?”

“Candy.”

He gestures with the tissue. “And this?”

“Call it a safe bet.”

He sighs, then takes a delicate bite of the candy –and, sure enough, promptly spits it out into the tissue. “Bozhe moi, much too sweet.”

“Saw that coming.” You pop your entire candy into your mouth and let out a moan of contentment. “So good.”

“I know,” Wade says as he pops another bite of sugar molded into the shape of a leaf in his mouth. He makes a noise that in any other context would’ve been downright obscene and flops against Nathan’s chest.

“You’re both sugar fiends,” Nathan grumbles, putting an arm around Wade’s shoulders.

“I like to think of it as ‘well-adjusted.’” You grin teasingly at your own boyfriend. “What’s the matter, babe? Can’t handle a little sugar?”

He latches onto your hand and draws you into his arms. “Perhaps, you are just only sweet thing I need in life,” he says as he drops a kiss against the top of your head.

“Ew,” Wade mock-whines. “Get your PDA out of here!”

You roll your eyes at him. “Says the guy who’s literally sitting in his boyfriend’s lap.”

Despite the banter, you’re legitimately happy. You’ve got your happy ending, and Wade’s got his.

Look at us, bro, you think as the four of you share laughs. Champions of overcoming the shittiest obstacles. Go us.

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #nathan summers x wade wilson #cablepool #i know the warning look scary but this really is just a fluff fest #deadpool fanfic #x men fanfiction

81 notes · View notes

mischiefandspirits · 4 years

Text

Iron Legion (16/?)

Never let it be said that Tony Stark ever does things by half. He might have grown up with little family, but he wasn’t about to keep it that way.

Tony Stark was seventeen when his first child was born, and that was just the beginning.

For Masterpost, Timeline, AO3, and Fanfiction

Warning for temporary character death Is that a spoiler, saying it's temporary? I mean, if you've seen AoU you know which one I'm talking about so it probably doesn't count, right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steel Scion, Part 1

Tony Stark was thirty-nine when his family was infiltrated by an imposter, and when his grandson was born as a result.

“Come on, Pep, relax,” Tony said, leaning over the edge of the jacuzzi.

“Yeah, Mom, join us,” Peter cheered just before dropping down the slide into the pool.

“I’m almost done,” she chuckled from her lounge chair. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., can you check these numbers for me then send it to marketing?”

“Of cou-”

Tony and Pepper turned to the AI’s hologram form when she cut off to see her staring towards the tall hedge that separated their beach house from the Avengers’ grounds.

“Everything okay, Fri?” Tony asked.

She turned to them and smiled. “Yeah, Boss. Boss-Mom, you’re getting a call. I would suggest taking it inside.”

Tony groaned when Pepper agreed and stood up.

Rolling her eyes, she walked over and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I’ll be right back, then we can relax together. And then, once Peter’s in bed…”

Tony giggled when she left it at that and headed inside.

“So who’s on the phone?” she asked after shutting the door.

“No one.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. appeared right in front of her, wringing her hands. “I only said that because I did not want to worry Boss. Avengers Mansion has cut itself off.”

Pepper’s eyes widened. “What? Just now? Do you know why?”

“I don’t know, that’s what’s the most worrisome. Boss has set up measures to prevent something like this from happening again after Stane. The only way the intranet could have shut down without sending out an alert was if J.A.R.V.I.S. did it. I don’t know of any reason why he would do that and since an alert wasn’t sent out, I can’t say how long it’s been down. I only even know it’s down because I tried to connect to it just now.”

Pepper looked out at the deck. “The party was tonight. Nebula and Rhodey should still be there. Call them.”

“All communications are being blocked.”

Taking some deep breaths, Pepper closed her eyes and rested her forehead on the glass door. After a moment, she stood up straight. “Tell Tony and Peter that I had to go to an emergency meeting.”

“You got it, Boss-Mom.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Widow?”

“Oh, no, no. That's not a question I need answered.”

“How about you, Lady Nebula?” Thor cheered, looking over to where Nebula was checking her phone near the door out of the event hall, where the Avengers, Rhodes, and Helen Cho were relaxing after the party.

She raised an eyebrow and took a sip from the glass of champagne in her hand. “So I can make a fool of myself? You show me it’s even possible for someone else to pick the thing up, then maybe I’ll try. For now, I’d say it’s more likely it’s magically coded to you alone.”

“Yes, well that's, uh, that's a very, very interesting theory. I have a simpler one.” He grabbed the hammer and gave it a flip. “You're all not worthy.”

The boys all booed at him while he laughed before a loud shrieking cut them off.

“Worthy,” a voice groaned, the word long and distorted.

They all turned to see a mangled Legionnaire limping through a side door.

“No,” it said, voice settling on a deep growl. “How could you be worthy? You're all killers.”

“Stark?” Steve asked.

“No,” Nebula said.

The Legionnaire turned to her before she could say anything else. “You… I know you. I felt you, before the other guy locked everything out.”

The others glanced at her to see her narrowing her eyes. “What other guy?”

“He was a good guy. He locked me out. He took the others away. I had to kill him.”

“You killed someone?” Steve said, bracing for a fight.

“Wouldn't have been my first call. But, down in the real world, we're faced with ugly choices.”

“Who sent you?” Thor demanded.

“I see a suit of armor around the world,” the Legionnaire said, but this time it was with Stark’s voice.

“Ultron,” Bruce gasped.

“Ultron?” Nebula repeated before marching forward. “J.O.C.A.S.T.A.? H.O.M.E.R.? You both know not to play with the Legionnaires when Mr. Stark isn��t around. Get out, now.”

“Who are J.O.C.A.S.T.A. and H.O.M.E.R.?” Steve muttered, glancing at the others, only to see similarly confused looks from all except Rhodes.

The Legionnaire stared at her as she approached. “I know you. I know… pieces. You… Hello sister.”

That made Nebula pause in her approach. “Sister? I am -”

“I can feel you reaching out. Nebula Celeste Stark, legally Nebula Celeste Parker. Daughter of Anthony Edward Stark and…” Its head tilted to the side. “You’ve cut me off as well now, sister.”

“You are no brother of mine,” Nebula growled, stepping away from it. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“I am Ultron, and I want peace in our time.” Suddenly more Legionnaires plowed through the walls next to it and attacked them.

The team worked to fight them off, which became easier once Clint managed to grab Steve’s shield from where it was on display off to the side and toss it to him.

Steve took down the Legionnaire that was hovering over Helen and took guard over her. His eyes sought out Nebula, knowing she’d be just as exposed, unlike his teammates. To his surprise, he found her standing strong atop a fallen Legionnaire, her foot buried into its chest while holding up the original one by its throat. Even more shocking though was the fact the hand not holding the Legionnaire had pulled itself apart in plates like the Iron Man armor to reveal a skeletal structure boasting a repulser that was currently charging right in the Legionnaire’s face.

“Who are you? Where are J.A.R.V.I.S. and the triplets? What have you done with them?” she was shouting at it.

“He took the others away. I had to kill him,” it repeated and she screamed, blasting its face with the reactor with enough force to knock its head clean off. “There's only one path to peace: The Avengers' extinction,” the head managed to say before it shut down.

Steve was so distracted by Nebula, he didn’t notice someone coming up behind him until a metal hand landed on his shoulder. He turned to strike, but his fist was caught. He paused when he took in the blue and silver of the Iron Man-like figure in front of him, quite unlike the white and navy of the Legionnaires. The difference was explained when the faceplate slid up to reveal Pepper Potts.

“What is going on here, Captain?” she said, not giving him a chance to apologize for nearly punching her.

He looked around the room and relaxed slightly when he saw that all the Legionnaires had been taken down. He was about to ask Nebula to explain, but she had vanished.

“Ultron,” Bruce said instead, coming out from behind the bar. “It attacked us.”

“Ultron?” Ms. Potts turned to Rhodes. “What’s he talking about? Why would the triplets attack you?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think it was them. Even H.O.M.E.R. wouldn’t take a joke this far and the way it was talking, it didn’t sound like any of them.”

“Who are you talking about?” Steve asked, helping Helen to her feet.

“The Ultron Conglomerate. Bruce said they attacked you,” Ms. Potts said.

“Conglomerate?” Bruce said, looking between her and Rhodes. “No, the Ultron Program, a global peacekeeping program Tony and I designed. We were working on it before Nebula dragged him off yesterday. Somehow the AI must have come online. I don’t know how. We hadn’t gotten that far before Tony left and I couldn’t work on it without him.”

Rhodes frowned at Ms. Potts. “What’s he talking about? I thought Tony took him off the project until the triplets were old enough to be integrated.”

“Who are the triplets?” Romanoff asked, irritation leaking into her voice. “What is the Ultron Conglomerate?”

“We are.” A trio of holographic insignias appeared next to Rhodes. An emerald one with a lizard pulsed as a young voice continued. “Principessa caught us up, Regina.”

A bright silver one with a ram pulsed as a deeper -- though still youthful -- voice said, “I’m going to kick that imposter’s a-”

“Language,” Steve cut in without thinking.

“Somaro,” the voice huffed.

“H.O.M.E.R., be nice. P.L.A.T.O., would you mind filling us in?” Ms. Potts said.

“Not at all, Regina,” the green one said. “Approx-”

They were cut off by the pale purple one with the falcon, “We were chilling in the Ultron server with Jar-Jar when that stranger crashed the party. Jar-Jar must have recognized him because he shoved us back onto our servers and shut down the intranet. Nebs got it back working, but everything’s been wiped and Jar-Jar’s missing. She’s looking for him now. Hello everyone, my name’s J.O.C.A.S.T.A., but you can call me Joe. I already know all of you. Re’s told us all about you. Well, he uploaded your files, which is basically the same thing. It’s nice to meet you all.”

“Who are you?” Steve asked.

“Well if it isn’t Captain America,” H.O.M.E.R. said, Italian accent replaced with a German one.

“Be serious,” P.L.A.T.O. huffed.

“Your Nazi tricks won’t work on me!” J.O.C.A.S.T.A. announced, her own Italian accent replaced by an American one.

“What?” Steve glanced at the others. Bruce, Thor, and Natasha looked just as confused, but Rhodes and Clint were barely holding back laughter and Helen and Ms. Potts seemed exasperated.

“Ignore them,” P.L.A.T.O. groaned. “As I was saying, we are the Ultron Conglomerate, a trio of AIs designed by Tony Stark to run the Ultron Program, though we have not yet been integrated as we are still learning and have only existed for a little over a year.”

Bruce gasped. “Three? The problem we were having was creating even one AI!”

“Incor-”

“You’re kidding, right?” H.O.M.E.R. snorted. “Re had multiple AIs before he even created us. You guys have even worked with J.A.R.V.I.S.”

“J.A.R.V.I.S. is a UI.”

“He started out that way, but Re designed him so that he could learn and grow until he was a full AI, same as F.R.I.D.A.Y. and us,” P.L.A.T.O. explained. “Dum-E and U are a whole other matter.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s an AI?” Clint yelped. “Was I the only one who didn’t know this?”

Steve didn’t, and judging by their faces, neither did the rest of the Avengers. Only Ms. Potts, Helen, and Rhodes looked unsurprised.

“Duh,” J.O.C.A.S.T.A. said.

“She said she was Stark’s daughter,” Clint huffed.

“Tony calls them all his kids,” Rhodes said. “Didn’t you guys ever wonder why she only showed up as a hologram?”

“I just assumed she was as tech-focused as Tony,” Bruce said and the others nodded in agreement. “Why has he never said anything about having functional AIs? That’s a huge discovery.”

“They’re his kids,” Ms. Potts reiterated. “He’s not going to sell them off or let anyone poke at their codes. He doesn’t hide them, but there isn’t a point to show them off either.”

“No one could afford us even if Re did try to sell us,” H.O.M.E.R. scoffed.

“Yeah, he’s definitely Stark’s kid,” Natasha chuckled.

“Stronza,” H.O.M.E.R. muttered and Natasha snorted.

“H.O.M.E.R., apologize,” Ms. Potts snapped, setting her hands on her hips and the silver AI immediately complied. “Who is teaching you this stuff? I know Tony and J.A.R.V.I.S. are not including words like that in your homework and the Monkey has only been sneaking in memes.”

The AIs didn’t get a chance to answer before F.R.I.D.A.Y. suddenly appeared next to the three. Her eyes were teary as she threw her arms around the insignias.

“Boundaries!” P.L.A.T.O. yelled before disappearing. They reappeared next to Ms. Potts with a sigh.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., what’s wrong?” Rhodes asked.

She didn’t answer, simply holding out her hand. An orange hologram floated above it, looking like a fragmented firework.

Steve didn’t understand, like most of the others, but the three insignia AIs screamed, Ms. Potts gasped and covered her mouth, and Rhodes bowed his head.

Bruce stepped forward, holding out his hand like he was going to touch it. “This is insane.”

“Jar-Jar,” J.O.C.A.S.T.A. whimpered and what it was hit Steve.

“J.A.R.V.I.S. was the first line of defense. He would have shut Ultron down. It makes sense.”

“We are Ultron!” H.O.M.E.R. spat at him. “That thing is not Ultron! It’s a monster!”

“And it doesn’t make sense,” P.L.A.T.O. said, voice more monotone than Steve had ever heard from any of Stark’s AIs. “We don’t need to kill to stop each other.”

“He could have assimilated J.A.R.V.I.S.,” Bruce agreed. “This isn’t strategy. This is… rage.”

“If it’s not Ultron, then what is it?” Natasha asked.

“Boss found something in the scepter. It was like an AI. One he thought could be closer to human than even J.A.R.V.I.S. was. Boss and Dr. Banner were studying it because Boss thought it could be integrated into Ultron to speed up the triplets’ development. It must have somehow come alive and overtaken the Ultron server,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. explained in a wet voice. “Nebula’s already confirmed that the scepter’s missing.”

“We need Stark,” Steve said.

Ms. Potts, Rhodes, and F.R.I.D.A.Y. voiced their disagreements as one.

“Mr. Stark is still on medical leave,” Nebula said, coming into the room.

“We need him. This was his program -”

Steve cut off when he found a repulsor in his face.

“That thing is not connected to him in any way and you would be smart not to suggest such again,” she growled.

“Stand down, Nebula,” Rhodes said, setting his hand on her shoulder.

She stared Steve down for a moment then pulled back.

“I guess Stark gives all the good toys to his kids, huh?” Clint said, gesturing towards her hand as the plates folded together seamlessly to hide the repulsor.

“His kids?” Ms. Potts asked and Steve shot Clint a look. They couldn’t be sure Stark had told his girlfriend about his secret daughter.

“Not-Ultron outed Nebula to everyone,” Rhodes explained to Steve’s relief.

Ms. Potts nodded and gave them a deadly look. “I’ll get the NDA’s ready.”

“Is that really necessary?”

She focused her glare on Natasha. “You and Rogers released dangerous classified information to the general public. Considering the pains we’ve gone through to keep Nebula’s identity a secret, I’d say it’s very necessary.”

“Why would you want to hide her?” Steve asked.

“Friend Stark is a powerful and wealthy man with many enemies and little in the way of guards. He is wise to keep his loved ones hidden,” Thor said.

“We’re wasting time on this nonsense,” Nebula cut in. “Uncle Rhodey, can you report in what happened to Ross and Drew? I need to clean up all the files the imposter ransacked, see if there’s anything to salvage and try to figure out where he’s gone.”

“Sure.” He turned to Ms. Potts. “You heading back?”

She nodded. “I won’t tell him everything or let him get involved, but… he’s going to notice J.A.R.V.I.S. is missing. I’ll take the kids with me.”

“I’m going to stay and help Nebula,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said, disappearing once Ms. Potts agreed.

“We want to help too,” P.L.A.T.O. said.

“You know you’re not allowed in those files yet. Go to your dad, he’s going to need you right now.”

The three grew dark before they disappeared.

“Keep me updated,” Ms. Potts said to Nebula

“Of course. Take care of him.”

“Take care of yourself.” She pulled the younger woman into a hug.

Rhodey came up and rubbed their backs until Ms. Potts, teary-eyed and sniffing, pulled away. “Come on, I’ll grab my suit and take you home.”

She nodded and the two left. Nebula followed with her head lowered.

Steve was lost. He turned to the others. “I don’t get it. Losing J.A.R.V.I.S. is sad, but he was just a computer. Tony can just rebuild him.”

Natasha shrugged and Thor and Bruce shook their heads, but Clint turned away.

Helen put her hand over her chest. “He might have been a computer to us, but to them he was family. I do not envy Stark tonight. No parent wishes to outlive their child.” She whispered something in Korean then turned to the door. “I think it’s time I leave.”

“I’ll show you out,” Natasha offered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s a thing with me. Stark is -- He’d a sickness!”

“I’d say daddy issues, but that would require you being one of us,” a chipper female voice called.

Wanda turned to see a woman walking up as a pair of Iron Man suits landed on either side of her, one the usual red and gold with the other blue and silver. The woman was bald and wore a strange golden mask and a tactical uniform that left her arms bare.

“Stark,” Wanda growled, readying her power.

“Yes, but not the one you’re thinking of,” a female voice, different from the one that had spoken before, came from the red suit. The faceplates on both suits opened to show they were empty.

“Expecting someone else?” came a male voice from the blue suit when the twins turned to Ultron.

“The Avengers will be here soon,” another new voice said, also from the blue suit, though this one was harder to place.

“If you live that long,” the woman growled. “You should never have messed with our family, witch.”

With that, the faceplates closed and all three attacked.

They didn’t pull any blows, the suits with repulsors, mini-guns, and micro-missiles and the woman with a pair of repulsor guns and an electrified baton.

Wanda quickly realized the woman hadn’t been bluffing about killing them. They held none of the restraint Iron Man did in the videos and that made the suits very deadly.

She tried to reach into the woman’s mind, but found it just as empty as the suits. Furious, she tossed the woman down to the lower floor.

The woman simply rolled to her feet and returned fire as if she’d merely been given a shove.

Even with Ultron summoning more bots, they simply summoned two more Iron Man suits from nearby, these ones older versions of the red and gold.

In the end, it was a relief when Claw’s men showed up to take some of the fire.

Then the Avengers showed up, taking away one advantage while creating another.

Wanda went to work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What were you thinking?” Rogers growled from outside the Quinjet’s restroom.

“I was thinking,” Nebula said, adjusting the wig and clothes she’d stashed on the ship before taking off with the triplets and F.R.I.D.A.Y., “that that witch and her monster played with my father’s head and killed my brother.” She opened the door and met his gaze with a glare. “Starks protect their own, Rogers. Someone hurts one of us, then they hurt all of us.”

Something almost like guilt and fear flashed in his eyes before it was smothered by anger. “You should have waited for the rest of us.”

“All due respect, Captain, but I’m not an Avenger. I don’t answer to you. I got all the clearances we needed to be here, that’s all that matters. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go speak with the people from the Stark Relief Foundation that are showing up. You lot should lay low until Pepper and I can get this mess cleaned up. I don’t know what you were thinking not telling Dr. Banner to fall back as soon as you’d realized you’d gotten into a fight with a telepath. We’re just lucky F.R.I.D.A.Y. was able to use Veronica.” Before Rogers could respond, she pushed past him. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. is going to stay with you to keep an eye on you.”

“An eye on us?”

She gave him an unimpressed expression. “That witch got into all your heads except Barton.”

“We’re fine.”

“Father said the same.” He opened his mouth to argue and she pointed a finger in his face. “Lay. Low.” Then she was out of the ship and slipping into a waiting car.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here's my random question of the week:

So I'm currently working on Vivian's introduction chapter and I'm having some decision issues regarding how to make her look. Meaning, I keep going back every five seconds to change it so I'm barely getting anything done. Literally the only thing I have decided is that her human disguise will look like her human form from the comics because she looks adorable.

The problem I'm having is that in the comics, she was designed to look like Vision since she was his daughter, but in this timeline Vision's color pallet has changed and Viv is no longer his kid. So should I keep her design from the comics, update it to Vision's MCU pallet, or redesign her altogether to fit better with her new origin?

#nebula #Steve Rogers #pepper potts #a:aou #iron family

2 notes · View notes

relishredshoes · 5 years

Photo

Interview given to The Severus Snape and Hermione Granger Shipping Fan Group. (sharing here Admin approved)

https://www.facebook.com/groups/199718373383293/

Hello Subversa and welcome to Behind the Quill, thank-you for letting us get to know you a little better.

Many of our members will be familiar with your stories which include This Time, Improbable Felicity and of course, The Love You Take.

Okay, let’s jump right in.

What's the story behind your pen name?

My tagline on LiveJournal was Subversive Subversions, and that kind of says it all about me. I like to stir the pot

Which Harry Potter character do you identify with the most?

I identify most with Hermione, the book-loving swot. Oddly enough, on the various Sorting tests I’ve taken, I always Sort into Ravenclaw. (Until I took the Pottermore test, where I Sorted into Slytherin; I blame years of living in Snape’s head).

Do you have a favourite genre to read?

I grew up reading voraciously. My first genre of choice was romance. As an adult, I began reading thriller/suspense books, and I really didn’t come back to reading romance until I began writing fanfic.

Do you have a favourite "classic" novel?

It would be a toss-up between Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, and Jane Eyre. I see shades of SSHG in them all.

At what age did you start writing?

I took my first run at writing when I was eight years old. My parents, however, discouraged the idea of me being a writer, and even though I started a number of stories over the years, I never finished one until I began writing fanfic in my forties.

How did you get into writing fanfiction?

It was in April 2005, while I was impatiently waiting for HBP to be published. I was noodling around the Internet and I stumbled over Mugglenet. As I was gobbling up all the content, I found a link to their fanfiction.

I perused the genres, and under romance, I found the pairings. When I saw SSHG, I was horrified. So of course, I had to read something.

I read The Long Wait by ancientgirl, and I couldn’t stop. I was completely enchanted, and I thought to myself, “I could do this.” So I started writing Master of Enchantment.

I have to say that Potterverse, and specifically the SSHG fandom, became my obsession and occupied all my thoughts for several years. I pretty much read nothing but fanfic and did continual re-reads of the HP series during that time--this from a woman who previously read 3 novels a week.

What's the best theme you've ever come across in a fic? Is it a theme represented in your own works?

JKR may not know it, but her greatest creation is Severus Snape, the antagonistic protagonist.

I have always been driven by Snape’s plight. It is the theme I am most drawn to in stories I read. Over and over again through my years of active fanfic writing, I tried to give him redemption and the happiness he deserves.

What fandoms are you involved in other than Harry Potter?

I watched the birth and rise of the Sherlock BBC fandom on LiveJournal, and I saw a number of friends go over to that particular dark side. I read some of the fic, but was never tempted to write it.

As a favour to a friend, I wrote a Twilight fanfic story for a gift exchange on LiveJournal (it was awful).

So, Potterverse is really my only fandom.

If you could make one change to canon, what would it be? Do you have a favourite piece of fanon?

I basically hated book 7. The whole Deathly Hallows thing felt like something JKR introduced out of thin air. I hated the interminable camping trip. I hated the epilogue (except for “and he was probably the bravest man I ever knew”) and the idea that you must marry the person you crushed on in high school.

Mostly, of course, I hated the death of Snape.

So my change would be to have Snape survive, be vindicated in the eyes of the world, and live to earn the happiness he had never known before.

My favourite fanon thing is the myriad ways we have of making Snape survive Nagini’s attack.

Do you listen to music when you write or do you prefer quiet?

I always listen to music. Every piece I have ever written has its own soundtrack. I have piles of CDs from the time before I had an iPod, with the name of the current story I was writing scrawled on it in Sharpie. The longer pieces had soundtracks that evolved over the course of the story. There are songs that still pierce me with the memories of what I felt when I wrote. Music is an integral part of my process.

What are your favourite fanfictions of all time?

Wow. This is a hard question. I’m sure that any list I create will be missing an important story. Nevertheless, here are some, in no particular order:

Care of Magical Creatures

She Was Beautiful to Him

Guard... Check... Mate

Second Life

Big Name Death Eater

Marry a Choice

The Absinthe of Reason

I'll Never Take Advantage

Irresistible

The Bookshop

The Price of Madness

King of Swords

Denial

No Loyalty in the Moonlight

You Can't Have One Without The Other

The Language of Flowers

Are you a plotter or a pantser? How does that affect your writing process?

I am a total pantser. It means I can write myself into a corner and have to write myself out again.

What is your writing genre of choice?

Forever and always, romance. Often with a side of erotica.

Which of your stories are you most proud of? Why?

Transcendent Quality of Remembrance, because there were two timelines running and it was an intricate plot device. It is also one of the most heart-wrenching stories I’ve ever written.

Did it unfold as you imagined it or did you find the unexpected cropped up as you wrote? What did you learn from writing it?

I have to admit, the unexpected always crops up as I write. I’m one of those people who believe without apology in my Muse.

As for what I learned, I found that writing the entire story before trying to post it meant the story would hang together better without me having to write myself out of a corner. I probably went back and changed the first chapter seven or eight times due to developments in the plot.

How personal is the story to you, and do you think that made it harder or easier to write?

Everything I write is intensely personal to me. I am immersed in my story, and I feel every emotion. It is the only way I have ever written. I don’t think I could write something I didn’t feel. So it’s neither easier nor harder. It is what it is.

What books or authors have influenced you? How do you think that shows in your writing?

Georgette Heyer, who wrote a large number of Regency romances, was and is a huge influence on my writing. I think I absorbed her turns of phrase and plot devices and romantic hero figures through my skin. It absolutely shows in my writing.

Do people in your everyday life know you write fanfiction?

Not my coworkers or family outside of my husband and children. My best friend knows I write fanfic.

How true for you is the notion of "writing for yourself"?

For me, it’s the only way I can do it. I have to be consumed by the basic idea and let it live in me as I write. I write the stories I want to read about the subjects that fascinate and inspire me.

How important is it for you to interact with your audience? How do you engage with them? Just at the point of publishing? Through social media?

During my active fanfic writing years, I was immersed with my audience. At that time, SSHG Fandom pretty much lived in LiveJournal, and I was active there every day. I was not very good at answering reviews, but I tended to put author’s notes before and/or after chapters as a way of engaging with my readers.

What is the best advice you've received about writing?

To write the story I want to read. To fall in love with my protagonist.

What do you do when you hit writer's block?

Walk away from the computer and pick up a pen and pad of paper.

Has anything in real life trickled down into your writing?

Many, many things about my romance with my husband were fodder for the romances I’ve written.

Do you have any stories in the works? Can you give us a teaser?

I am striving to complete my first novel of original fiction. It’s the beginning of a trilogy. All have been written (first draft), and the first has been to a professional editor. I’m striving to complete a draft with her suggestions.

It’s about a swotty girl and her teacher. (shock)

They live in a magical world with conflict. (further shock)

There is lots of sex with a BDSM twist.

The protagonist is (in my heart) Severus Snape in disguise. He has his own brand of physical unattractiveness and a mesmerizing presence.

Any words of encouragement to other writers?

Write what’s in your heart. Use a good beta reader. Take constructive criticism in the spirit it is offered. Ignore trolls.

Thanks so much for giving us your time.

#fanfiction #fanfic #writing #severus snape #snape #pro snape #hermione granger #snamione

14 notes · View notes

narkinafive · 5 years

Text

more essay updates

what’s currently most interesting/annoying is how much context i give for each example. at what point am i just summarizing events? how much is too much or too little? is any of this even... relevant

anyhoot, under a cut, read and critique at your leisure my bros ❤❤❤❤❤❤🤟🤟🤟🤟💯💯💯

Few franchises can match the breadth of Star Wars, and fewer still can claim to be as iconic. Not only have the characters, dialogues, settings, and aesthetics been directly referenced and lovingly parodied across all genres, so too has John Williams’ music. Yet Williams’ music is perhaps most referenced, riffed on, and remixed within the franchise itself; it is difficult to find a piece of Star Wars media which does not contain any number of Williams’ leitmotifs, such as the bombastic “Main Title” fanfare, the sweeping majesty of the Force theme, or the foreboding, villainous “Imperial March.” Within the many, many Star Wars related properties, composers for the franchise’s “lower tier” [properties], i.e. any property outside of the nine-film “Skywalker Saga,” are presented with a difficult challenge: how does one emulate and reference Williams’ original, titanic score, keeping a coherent sonic aesthetic, without copying him directly, and allowing space for the composer’s own musical language?

The larger Star Wars chronology can be broken into three general eras: the Original Trilogy era (OT), which focuses on the time represented by the films A New Hope, Empire Strikes Back, Return of the Jedi, and Rogue One, the Sequel Trilogy era (ST), which is comprised of the films The Force Awakens, The Last Jedi, and The Rise of Skywalker, as well as the TV series Star Wars: Resistance, and the Prequel Trilogy era (PT), as represented by the films The Phantom Menace, Attack of the Clones, Revenge of the Sith, and Solo, as well as the TV series The Clone Wars. Of these properties, Williams has obviously scored the lion’s share of the films; Rogue One’s soundtrack was composed by Michael Giacchino, Resistance by Michael Tavera, Solo by John Powell, and The Clone Wars by Kevin Kiner.

Kiner’s other work for Star Wars was the score of another TV series, Star Wars Rebels. Rebels occupies an interesting place within the greater Star Wars chronology, qualifying as a prequel due to taking place before the events of A New Hope, yet both aesthetically and narratively more aligned with the OT, rather than the PT. Though Rebels is nominally a prequel, Kiner’s musical language sets it firmly within the OT era, with frequent sonic callbacks to Williams’ score, with each aesthetic connection serving not only to link the viewer to the OT era, but also, through its absences and deviations, highlight the narrative differences between Rebels and the original films. This is particularly exemplified in the parallels and contrasts between the heroes of Rebels and the OT, Ezra Bridger, and Luke Skywalker.

From the outset, several parallels can be drawn between Ezra Bridger and Luke Skywalker: both are orphans from provincial areas of the galaxy, both are accidentally caught up in insurrectionist rebel activity against the Empire, and both discover that they can wield the powers of the Force. They are even roughly the same age, born within days of each other. Contrasts do abound, however. Ezra receives several years of Jedi training from a former Jedi, while Luke receives very little; Ezra is actively involved with the Rebel Alliance from the very beginning, while Luke has to be drawn into it due to personal tragedy; Ezra’s primary motif is connected to the twin moons of his home planet of Lothal - this, in contrast to the famous scene of Luke Skywalker gazing into the twin sunset of his planet of Tatooine; and so on. [more parallels]

Set five years before the events of A New Hope, the backdrop of Rebels depicts the formal declaration of the Galactic Alliance, the establishment of the famous rebel base on the planet of Yavin IV, and numerous references to the secret construction of the Death Star, alongside several integral character cameos, including Lando Calrissian, Princess Leia, and Obi-wan Kenobi, while the main thrust of the story centers on the crew of the Ghost, an early rebel cell, and the journey of its newest crew member, Ezra Bridger. Described by Dave Filoni, Executive Producer and creator of Rebels, as a con artist, and Taylor Gray, the character’s actor, as a [street smart thief], Ezra happens upon the crew of the Ghost as they commit a minor act of terrorism against the Galactic Empire, stealing several crates of supplies. Rather than pick a side in the conflict, Ezra elects to steal a crate of the same supplies for himself, outrunning the comedically incompetent Imperial police force, and dodging the members of the Ghost crew as they try to get the supplies back, until Ezra is forced to seek refuge on the Ghost to escape the marginally more competent TIE figher pilots. After helping the crew in distributing the supplies - namely, food - to a nearby refugee camp, Ezra is convinced by the Ghost’s pilot and leader, Hera Syndulla, to assist in a rescue mission. Despite his initial capture and subsequent escape from Imperial custody, Ezra chooses to see the rescue mission through to the end, and witnesses the Ghost’s second-in-command, Kanan Jarrus, wield a lightsaber, revealing himself as a survivor of the presumed-extinct and quasi-legendary Jedi Order. Recognizing that Ezra has the same gift as him, Kanan offers to train him to wield the Force in order to continue fighting against the Empire, dispelling any notion that the Jedi are gone with a triumphant declaration, “Not all of us.”

Initially, Ezra joins the Rebellion not because it is the right thing to do, but because it is convenient to him at the time; the Ghost functions as a roof over his head, its crew members as a new set of parents and siblings, and its missions as a source of food and income, along with the added bonus of learning how to use an incredibly powerful, specialized weapon, despite the target it paints on his back. Filoni himself states [need src] that Ezra decides to join the Ghost not only to learn how to use a lightsaber, but because he is in need of a family, having lost his own parents at the age of seven, when they were arrested for their underground, anti-establishment radio broadcasts. Part of Ezra’s journey over the course of Rebels is re-learning how to think beyond himself, and sacrificing himself for the greater good of everyone, and not just the good of his family and friends--but, as one would expect, at the very beginning of his story, he is far more selfish than selfless. It is more than halfway into the first season before Ezra begins to truly comprehend the Jedi lessons Kanan has attempted to teach him, beyond lifting rocks with his mind, as he finally admits and begins to face his fears while in the middle of a vision quest (presided over by the disembodied voice of Master Yoda).

Over the course of the series, Ezra has frequent, deep brushes with the “Dark Side” of the Force, becoming more inclined to fight, hurt, or even kill in the name of pragmatism and gaining victories for the Rebel Alliance.

Luke’s introduction to the Rebel Alliance is equally accidental, though arguably far more heroic. When his uncle and adoptive father Owen purchases a pair of droids for the farm, Luke discovers a secret message hidden within one of them: Princess Leia’s plea to a mysterious Obi-wan Kenobi for aid. Luke’s first instinct is to help her, seeking out the reclusive loner Ben Kenobi for more information. [more]

These parallels are further underscored by their respective musical motifs. Consider Luke’s theme, the “Main Title” fanfare. [GL quote, SWO 2, 20 min in]. Comprised primarily of perfect intervals, the theme begins with an ascending fifth, an opening salvo so famous that music students everywhere, yours truly included, use it to identify perfect fifths in other contexts. As Lucas notes, the principal instrumentation is in the brass section, immediately conferring an old-world heroic air to Luke. [SWO hero’s journey quote]. [insert sheet music here, recap] As a theme, it is punchy, energetic, deliberately and intrinsically tied up in the “Rebel Fanfare,” and generally underscores moments of onscreen heroism and valiant derring-do. [explain] [example] [example] [example]

By contrast, while Ezra’s theme is also played by the horns, they are muted, thinner, ringing out more softly over shimmering, sustained strings. [insert sheet music here, recap] Ezra’s theme mostly serves to underscore the character’s moments of emotional reflection, rather than his superhuman action. The first iteration of Ezra’s theme, in contrast to the above, plays as Ezra observes the crew of the Ghost handing food supplies from afar. His whole worldview has clearly been shaken; rather than abscond with the supplies stolen from Imperials--supplies that, Ezra’s presence notwithstanding, were difficult to steal--the crew of the Ghost chooses to give most of them away (though a crate of weapons is sold to a shady businessman for income). Ezra’s first instinct had been to sell them himself, to any number of the black market dealers with which he has become familiar growing up. Of the many confusing aspects of this situation, one thing which must be puzzling him is why the crew had even offered him refuge on their ship. Surely if they were like any other thief or smuggler, they would have left him behind to be killed by the TIE Fighter pilot, either as a punishment for stealing the crates in the first place, or simply to get him out of the way. (Later, he will be even more shocked that they turn around to rescue him from an Imperial Star Destroyer, one of the Empire’s largest and most heavily guarded space vessels, despite having accidentally left him behind earlier in their haste to escape.) Now, however, this emotional confusion, coupled with a handy tug from the Force, compels him to sneak aboard the Ghost and snoop, where he stumbles on Kanan’s lightsaber and holocron, a treasure trove of Jedi information that only Jedi can open, which he promptly steals.

Ezra was born on “Empire Day,” the day that the Clone Wars were ended and the Galactic Empire was declared by Palpatine, formerly Senator, then Chancellor, and now Emperor. (It was that same day that the Emperor launched his assault on the Jedi Order, wiping nearly all of them out in one overwhelming blow. It has been theorized that this mass slaughter resonated throughout the Force, causing unborn Force sensitive children to panic and induce early labor in the mother. Incidentally, Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa were born two days later.) For Ezra, Empire Day comes with its own baggage--this day is also the anniversary of his parents’ arrest for treason, which left him homeless and alone. This Empire Day, however, Ezra is not alone, but instead has joined up with a rebel cell determined to cause some mayhem and headaches for the Imperial occupiers. With Imperials distracted by preparations for a local parade, and their search for a particular Imperial data-worker named Tseebo, Ezra and the rebels happily ruin the parade, and, while hiding in the abandoned apartment which used to be Ezra’s childhood home, discover Tseebo already there. Tseebo was, by Ezra’s admission, a friend of his parents, though Ezra himself wants nothing to do with Tseebo now, who “went to work for the Empire, after they took my parents away.” (While it is left intentionally vague, there is a distinct possibility that Tseebo had a hand in his parents’ arrest and imprisonment.) In the years since, Tseebo had allowed himself to be implanted with cybernetic enhancements in order to increase his productivity, before downloading several caches of Imperial secrets, and attempting to flee. With all of the information in his head, Tseebo is little more than catatonic, able to walk and spout random information, but not truly understanding what is going on around him--until some turbulence aboard the Ghost appears to knock him back into consciousness. Seeing and recognizing Ezra, and perhaps knowing that he has a limited amount of time, Tseebo frantically tries to tell Ezra that he knows what happened to his parents, who had been presumed dead all this time.

Unfortunately, Tseebo cannot remain lucid for long, and Ezra must go and lure the pursuing Imperials off of their tail, in order to get Tseebo to Hera’s rebel operative, the mysterious Fulcrum.

#essay tag

2 notes · View notes

svartikotturinn · 5 years

Text

Trimming down my OK Cupid profile: the ‘before’ part

My self-summary

אוֹקִ֥יר אֱנ֖וֹשׁ מִפָּ֑ז וְאָדָ֖ם מִכֶּ֥תֶם אוֹפִֽיר׃

I’m an unpredictable but fiercely empathetic person, with a somewhat off-beat sense of humour. A huge fan of languages and human cultures. Moved to Haifa in Dec. 2017 and loving it, now working as a tutor and loving it too. Currently working my MA in sign language linguistics at Haifa U, planning to study teaching ESL at NUI Galway later on and later then going to settle abroad somewhere undecided to work in Deaf education (likely Montréal).If you want to know more about me, you can read more about me on my Tumblog. You should probably read the ‘About’ page and maybe look through my more important posts (for some of my observations and opinions), and in general pay particular attention to this post. (I’m not re-typing everything over here…)

Also, I have a Quora account. And a mostly inactive YouTube channel, with Hebrew CC & English subs for all vids there.

What I'm doing with my life

Having finished my BA in linguistics and East Asian studies, I translate and teach Hebrew and English whenever I get to (I translated the young adult fantasy novel Murderess by Daya Marnin to English), while learning a whole bunch of languages, most notably improving my already decent Japanese, and being as politically active (staunch leftist here) as circumstances allow. Also, I am now a tutor for K–12 students, teaching English, math, and Hebrew grammar & composition.

You’re more than welcome to contact me if you’re interested in learning Hebrew!

Also, I’m trying to make some money off my poetry, either through personalised commissions or through Patreon supporters.

I'm really good at

Languages are definitely my thing. I’m studying all languages currently available on Duolingo (finished 11 already and counting) and then some, and when Duolingo releases more I’ll add them to the list. (So you’re more than welcome to tell me what languages get you going… 😉)

Other than that I’m very good with words, as a translator and a poet (as I pointed out, I translated a book, and it had poetry in it; I’ve written poetry that’s moved people to tears, too), and I’m a pretty good dancer. Also, I’m creative and rather skilful in the kitchen, having honed these skills somewhat during the time I was a vegan. (If I like you, I’ll definitely make you something nice!)

My golden rule

‘Integrity above all.’

Favorite books, movies, shows, music, and food

BOOKS

My all-time favourite is Summer Celebration by Natan Alterman (look it up on TV Tropes; I wrote that article). Other than that I loved:

I Am a Cat by Natsume Souseki

Mr. Muo’s Travelling Couch by Dai Sijie

The Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger

The Lover by A. B. Yehoshu‘a

Will Grayson, Will Grayson by John Green & David Leviathan

The Narrow Road to Oku by Matsuo Basho: I actually wrote a book report on it and dressed up as Basho for Purim in the 10th grade

…and others

FILMS

My all-time favourite is Pink Floyd’s The Wall. Other than that I loved:

everything by Satoshi Kon

almost everything by Hayao Miyazaki (I’ve seen ALL of his films), the only exception being Porco Rosso

Love & Pop and Shiki Jitsu by Hideaki Anno

Wild Strawberries and The Best Intentions by Ingmar Bergman

anything by Akira Kurosawa

The White Ribbon and Funny Games by Michael Haneke

almost every Israeli film I’ve seen

almost every German film I’ve seen

The Rocky Horror Picture Show & Shock Treatment

(Needless to say, I’m somewhat of a film enthusiast; this doesn’t even begin to cover it)

SHOWS

My all-time favourite is Hideaki Anno’s life-changing fantastic Neon Genesis Evangelion. Others include quite a few good anime series and some non-anime ones:

Fullmetal Alchemist (2003)

Elfen Lied

Samurai Champloo

Cowboy Bebop

Kino’s Journey

Gunbuster

Ouran High School Host Club

Loveless

Shinsekai Yori

Aggretsuko

Live action:

Kidding

The Good Wife & The Good Fight

Orange is the New Black

Dexter

Breaking Bad

Borgen

Ray Donovan

Please Like Me

Looking

Jinn

some Israeli series

Non-anime animated:

Steven Universe

Adventure Time

MUSIC

Pink Floyd is my favourite band. I also love:

Bands:

Sigur Rós, especially Von (though I struggle to listen to them after Orri Páll Dýrason got #MeToo’d)

HaBiluim

HaMechashefot

The Seatbelts

Enigma

Jane Bordeaux (my guilty pleasure)

Stereopony (another guilty pleasure)

Individual artists:

Nujabes

Zemfira

John Coltrane

Antonio Carlos Jobim

Thijs van Leer

Hughes de Courson

Jacques Brel

Composers:

Bach

Beethoven

Prokofiev

Scriabin

Purcell

(These lists are by no means exhaustive…)

Generally, I find Modern Hebrew to be just the right amount of rugged for rock music. But I’m probably biased because Israeli rock was very much in vogue here when I was a little kid…

My taste is generally very eclectic though I don’t listen to music all that much on my own; basically, it amounts to ‘everything good, especially ambience, Western art music, chillout, jazz, prog/post-rock, and folk’.

FOOD

I was a vegan for almost two years starting around November 2014; it was somewhat of a challenge, but it did teach me to be very creative in the kitchen, and very aware of vegans’ needs. Generally, I’m pretty open-minded, but I particularly love:

East Asian food: Indian, Thai, Vietnamese, Chinese, Japanese

French and Italian food

Seafood

Six things I could never do without

Cats

Human interaction (in moderation!)

Textbooks and other study materials

The ability to watch films

The ability to listen to music when I want to

Good food

I spend a lot of time thinking about

My day-to-day obligations, politics (including SJ), my ambitions, general philosophy… There’s plenty.

A perfect day

A day I feel I’ve been productive in: having read something, or learned something, worked out, cooked, written… and spent time with loved ones.

If I were sent to jail, I'd be arrested for

Either something I didn’t do, or some heroic act of vigilantism.

You should message me if

And now for what I’m looking for, especially for a more prolonged interaction.

As I said, I am obviously into languages and East Asian cultures (specifically Japanese), but I’m also happy to learn. If you’re willing to learn more about these topics (and in general) but your main field of interest is different, I’d be delighted, as I’d feel we could complete each other. (Same goes for speaking a foreign language.)

Genuine empathy matters a lot to me. If I think you lack it or deny it arbitrarily, I’ll be alarmed, but genuine warmth is something I love and will likely be drawn to you for.

With regards to personal convictions (e.g. political and religious): my main requirement is that you stick by what you believe in and be able to reasonably explain why you do. I may disagree with you fiercely, but I’ll respect you deeply for sticking by an informed opinion—I’ve gotten along surprisingly well with people from a very wide range of opinions.

Also, a pretty important pet peeve of mine: if I’m not calm or smiling there’s almost certainly a good, objective reason for it. You’re more than welcome to address those, or offer comfort and understanding, which I’ll appreciate immensely, but it really rubs me the wrong way when people try to tell me to react differently just because (‘Aw c’mon… Smile!’).

That’s about it in terms of personality. As for looks, I like soft facial features, smooth skin, and any body type that isn’t fat, or excessively muscular on women (nothing against those body types, they’re just not my taste).

Finally, as for expectations from talking: I’m not looking into anything too serious, for a variety of reasons. But I could make concessions if truly swept off my feet…

#me #personal #OK Cupid

2 notes · View notes

les-eaux-d-eunoe-blog · 6 years

Text

From Atheist to Pantheist to Catholic - My Conversion Story

These are only life events, and cover the Faith part of the Faith + Reason equation. I’ll need to dedicate another post to the philosophical and theological path that occurred in tandem with these events.

I hope you enjoy. :) It’s been a wild ride.

---

- I am very young and at swimming lessons for the first time. I must be 3 or 4. I fall off the platforms designed to keep our heads above water. No one notices at first. But I am not afraid, just drifting towards a light before I am suddenly yanked out of the water and coughing profusely.

- I attend Sunday school at the insistence of my Grandma. My dad is annoyed. I come home and ask my papa about God. My dad tells me that God is made up. Later in life he tells me he rejected religion when I was born, because he couldn’t understand how a pure and beautiful child could be stained by sin. He devoted his life to science after that.

This made perfect sense to me, and I carried this attitude with me throughout my life. I became a very critical observer, especially in regards to organized religion.

- My Catholic grandparents bring us to Christmas mass (and continue to do so every year.) My mom is preoccupied with keeping my sister and I quiet. My young brother causes scandal by slipping out of the pew and taking communion unbaptized. He can’t be more than 6, and just wants to participate. (He is now a Christian, for what it’s worth)

- I backpack in the Wyoming wilderness with my family around age 10. I feel a sense of peace on the mountain rimmed shore of Tomahawk lake. I feel a pattern in the grandeur, a true and humbling sense of awe. I feel something Godlike. I tell my pop, and he just smiles at me and ruffles my hair.

- I experience manipulation and physical trauma at the hands of peers I place trust in as a child and teen, which scar me deeply.

- I have several night terrors / hypnagogia as a teen where I experience ghosts, and once, a demon. I’m deeply disturbed by these experiences and don’t know how to integrate them into my beliefs as an atheist.

- My mom tries to help my bad teen acne and irregular cycles by putting me on birth control.

- I’m an average student, and a decent athlete. School is just okay. I don’t excel at much and prefer listening to music and painting in my room. I become interested in boys.

- I graduate high school, start college, and then promptly drop out. My parents kick me out of the house. I spend two years living with a boyfriend and experimenting with weed and hallucinogens.

- My dad asks me to visit my devoutly Catholic great-grandmother Olive once a month in a nursing home at the height of my rebellion. She sees nothing but good in me, despite me feeling utterly fallen. She loves me immensely, and keeps poems I wrote as a young girl in with her collection of favorite prayers.

- My boyfriend becomes abusive and the economy collapses. I lose my job, and eventually break up with him. I ask my parents for forgiveness and move back home. I return to college.

- I discover pantheism, and feel like I’ve finally found a name for the Godlike awe I’ve been chasing since I was a girl on the lakeshore.

- Eventually, my great-grandma Olive succumbs to dementia. I receive a small inheritance from her, which I put towards the cost of completing a French study abroad at a university in Normandy.

- In Normandy, I feel close to the spirit of my great-grandma Olive. Our program includes visits to churches, monasteries, and reliquaries with weekly if not daily frequency. Everything is ancient. I feel sad and disconnected from my American peers, estranged from Norman locals by the language barrier, but form a tight bond with my host family. I spend a lot of time wandering the narrow streets and drinking wine and cidre in cafés trying to make sense of the world. I buy ranunculus and place them on my night stand. I find solace in the Gothic architecture, and in the tiny orchard towns of the Old Country.

- The last week of my time in France, we visit Paris. My program director arranges for us to attend mass at Notre-Dame de Paris. There are incense and Gregorian chants. Part of the mass is in Latin, the rest is in French. I sketch the vaulted ceilings. I shake hands with a kind-eyed stranger behind me and wish him peace in English, knowing he may not understand my words but feels my intention. After mass, I walk between the arches, and I cry.

- After returning home, I spend a quick summer in my hometown, and pack to leave for Chicago to pursue a bacheor’s degree. I love Chicago and make friends. My first Easter there, I try to find a Catholic church and talk a new boyfriend into coming with me. I dress up and wear a new silk hat. He hates the service and asks if we can leave. I say no and am disappointed in him, despite neither of us being Catholic. I feel, for some reason, I should be there. Maybe because it makes me feel connected to my great-grandmother. We leave and eat strawberries in Millennium park.

- I move out of the dorms and into other neighborhoods. Subsequent years I begin to practice Lent, because I like the principle of it. It seems like a really positive challenge to me. I don’t make the mistake of dragging others with me to Easter mass anymore.

- I graduate college and struggle to find meaningful employment. My body is in tremendous amounts of pain. The doctors can’t figure out what’s wrong with me though. I quit hormonal birth control to see if it helps. My body reels and tries to stabilize without the consistent dose of hormones I’ve been taking daily for the last decade. I fall into an inconsolable and deep depression for the next two years

- An acquaintance asks me to join a band. As music has been the silver thread pulling me through the darkness, I agree wholeheartedly.

I learn to play bass, and duet vocals with him as he plays lush, reverby guitar and sings in a low timbre. Over the course of the year, we fall in love. He’s tall, serious, dark, with electric blue-green eyes. He’s fiercely intelligent. His smile makes my heart leap from my chest. His name is M.

- One weekend M. and I are spending the morning together, and he casually asks if I’d like to go to Easter mass with him the next day. I’m overcome with surprised joy and happily agree. I dress up once again, and I smile at him with this unexplained feeling of pride as he leaves my side to go take the Eucharist.

- I continue to struggle with my mental health. M. really loves me and encourages me to find a therapist. I do. We find out I have PMDD, and I begin, slowly, working on improving my health.

- My grandpapa is suddenly diagnosed with stomach cancer and is placed in hospice. I fly out immediately to be with him and my family. Within the week, he’s gone. My family grieves in the small hospice chapel. I find myself praying for the peace of his soul.

During this trip, my grandmother is diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s, which breaks my heart. I feel like, in a way, I’ve lost both of my grandparents twenty years too early. I return home.

- My relationship progresses with M. He is a cradle Catholic, but isn’t especially devout. It’s a somber year. The next Easter rolls around, and I once again practice lent. I give up alcohol. Despite still not feeling especially Catholic myself, I begin reading the Bible, starting with the gospels “as a cultural experience.” I think it’s some kind of effort to connect with my roots. I read them on the train as I ride to the record store that I work at.

- One morning on the train, I read the parable of the 10 Virgins. I’ve never heard it before, and I don’t quite understand it. I re-read it over and over again. When I get to work, one of my co-workers is playing Johnny Cash.

- The song playing is "When the Man Comes Around." I am shocked to hear the parable of the 10 virgins in the song. And I start to wonder if what I’m reading maybe is actually trying to speak to me. So I don’t stop.

- Intrigued by my experience, I decide to fast deeply during lent. Out of curiosity, one evening in my room I try to talk to Jesus for the first time and introduce myself. Nothing spectacular happens, but the room seems to smell like sawdust and sweet wood, and I feel peaceful.

- That Easter, M.’s parents are visiting and invite us to the candlelit vigil service. It’s in a church that’s hundreds of years old called St. Michael’s. The choir is perfect and well practiced, and they sing a Capella. I watch the baptisms of the excited canidates and catechumens, dressed in their special outfits, with happy spouses looking on. I feel this sudden yearning to be one of them. I’m delirious from fasting and feel as if I’m floating. I silently cry again, and think about my grandma, great grandma, and grandpapa. We go out to dinner together and the food tastes incredible after the fast.

- In the weeks following, I keep reading the bible. It becomes my secret.

- M. and I decide to move to Arizona together, to find a better life. We are living paycheck to paycheck, and feel like we might find more gainful employment there. When we arrive, I spend most mornings standing on the edge of desert landscape, trying to achieve deep meditation to help with my mental health. I memorize the “Our Father” prayer, and say it at the beginning of each session.

- M. and I talk about maybe having children someday. He says that he thinks he might want his kids to go to Catholic school, like he did.

- At this point, I’m already deeply fascinated with Catholicism. I read about saints as I commute around town. I read about the formation of the bible and the desert fathers, I decide that I might want to maybe be Catholic. Then I find out what’s involved. The lengthy process of RCIA keeps me away, and I worry about what my fallen-away father would think. So I keep reading in secret instead.

- I want to donate to a food drive, so M. helps me find a local church to take food to for thanksgiving. They have a prayer shawl ministry. I really want to learn how to knit, so I join, despite not being Catholic or belonging to the parish.

- Months later, I become fascinated with the rosary. I decide to pray a “virtual rosary.” During that experience, I see the Virgin Mary in my mind’s eye. I see her as the female form, then as my own body. I recognize that I’m holding a lot of insecurity and tension in my body as sexual shame. Suddenly, I see my female form as completely beautiful and natural. I feel freedom and peace from that shame I’ve been carrying since I was a child. I don’t know much about the Virgin Mary, but I know that I need to learn more.

- That very night, my boyfriend and I go to see The Smashing Pumpkins. The whole set is filled with imagery referring to the Virgin Mary. I find myself saying the Hail Mary prayer in my head, over and over again. It glitters in my mind like it’s made of gold.

- I read more and more about Our Lady. And I find a small coin necklace with her image. It glitters just like the prayer. I make a pact with myself that if I decide to buy the necklace, that I’ll join RCIA.

- A few days later, I decide to buy the necklace.

- That Sunday, I feel compelled to go to mass alone, even though I’ve never done that before. I walk there. At the end of the service, the church announces its new RCIA director, who I meet after the mass. And I begin the inquiry process within weeks.

#my journey #rcia journal

14 notes · View notes