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hunnylagoon · 6 months

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Birthday Girl

A/N This is my first tumblr fic. I’m a retired Wattpad warrior, I only wrote this bc the Ellie tag is over diluted by smut, we need some angst and fluff to balance it out. My credentials are that I used to write Game of Thrones fanfic and I was blocked by Noah Beck on Twitter. Apologies in advance for any spelling errors or confusing sentences, bc I was high off my ass when I wrote this.

Summary

Jackson’s resident Baker works herself tirelessly to take care of everyone on their birthday and ensure they get something nice to brighten their special day but who is there to take care of her?

Birthdays are like brilliant gems in the kaleidoscope of time; they are the times when life's symphony crescendos into a celebration of its children. As the sun circles the earth once a year, we are given a day to celebrate our own journey, a day that whispers stories of victories, laughter, and the sweet notes of resiliency. You had always loved birthdays, who didn't? The look of joy on someone's face when they open a gift you spent weeks looking for, the uncontrollable smile and pure serotonin that took over even the grumpiest of people. Everyone had a special day designated to them, of course, it was a cause to celebrate.

You worked in the town bakery with very few other people, from five am to twelve pm on Monday to Friday every single week you were hustling around in a humid bakery, hell, you ran it like the navy. Every morning, walking into the bakery is like stepping into a fragrant paradise where time seems to slow down to the sound of ovens buzzing to life. The first two hours were just for you before you let anyone in, The comforting routine of donning a flour-dusted apron and tying back unruly hair precedes the artistry of crafting pastries and breads. The almost therapeutic rhythm of kneading, rolling, and shaping becomes second nature: the soft crack of eggs, the calculated pour of sugar, and the clouds of flour hovering in midair.

There wasn't much creative freedom while working in the Jackson bakery, it really just consisted of making dozens of bread loaves daily and then carting them over to the 'Barbecue Place' Which was once a restaurant though it had been refashioned into Jackson's mess hall. However, you were able to dabble in some fun and were able to make cupcakes daily and a large batch of miscellaneous pastries every Friday. The cupcakes were very dear to you, you had to beg Maria when you were thirteen to approve the idea and eventually, you were green-lit.

As you step into the bakery you are greeted by the creek of wooden planks which are a testament to decades of busy activity; the dance of innumerable bakers has worn away at their shiny surfaces. The aroma of baked goods still hovers in the air from the previous day and all the days that came before, taking you to a more peaceful time. Sunlight streams through old lace curtains, illuminating worn, mismatched tables and chairs that have served eager clients for centuries though they no longer serve guests in the bakery. Deeply patinated wooden shelves support a variety of ceramic jars, each containing a treasure trove of hidden ingredients. Fading photos and yellowed newspaper clippings decorate the walls, telling the story of the bakery's illustrious past. There are copper pots and pans strung like time capsules on strong hooks, and an old-fashioned cash register sits on the end of the counter past the empty glass displays, it no longer serves a purpose but you have fought bravely to keep it around as it makes you think of what life had been like before the world fell apart.

You look at a beat-up calendar on the walls, sitting in the place of an old picture frame that had been knocked down and shattered by none other than yourself when you were fourteen and had the bright idea of having you and your friend toss a bag of flour at each other to see who was strong enough to last longer in the odd game of catch. Surely, Ellie threw the five-pound bag a little too hard, you ducked to save yourself but it smashed into the framed photo of the family who ran the bakery before the apocalypse. It not only was smashed into little fragments but the bag of flour exploded and covered the dining room of the bakery as well as yourself in white powder, it looked like it had snowed inside. The calendar you were checking held the birthday of every person in Jackson, it was messy and hard to read as you usually had to cram several birthdays into a single day which was only a small square, it was hardly legible, there was almost no one else who could read it. Every day when you walked into the bakery, the first thing you did was check the calendar to find out whose birthday it was, then you began your bread dough or carried on with the sourdough started the day before, while the dough rose, you made cake batter, adjusting the recipe according to how many you had to make. After finishing work for the day or sometimes when you were midway through it, you would give each person a cupcake to celebrate their special day.

Even if no one else remembered their birthday, you were always there to make it a little bit better.

Today there were two birthdays on the calendar, Sean Casey, a man who was turning sixty. The second birthday marked down in the little square was yours.

That's what made that day so special, you were ecstatic to see what your friends had planned for you later. Last year Ellie promised that she would go above and beyond for your next birthday and you were going to hold her to that. There was already a nice start to your morning by having your dad wake you up with breakfast in bed which you found truly impressive as he usually slept in till at least ten, on top of that he had scavenged a stand mixer for the home. You grabbed your apron off of the hook putting it over your neck and tying it tight around your waist. Everyone had a couple of designated aprons to rotate through throughout the week, yours consisted of two plain white ones, a red gingham pattern, one of forest green, and another made of a fabric covered in hyacinth flowers, their colours diluted like paint. Today you wore the apron your father gave you last year on your birthday, it was your favourite colour and the neckline was embroidered to say '(y/n)s kitchen'. You could tell your dad did the embroidery himself, the stitches were loose and uneven in some areas while being extremely tight in others, that's why you loved it so much, it was the thought and care behind it.

With a gentle hand, you pulled each of your necessary ingredients along with equipment out to begin your day. You preheat the ovens and in the quiet pre-dawn hours, the bakery comes alive with the hushed sounds of industrial mixers. The heady scent of freshly milled flour dances in the air as you measure the precise alchemy of ingredients, your hands moving with practiced grace. Kneading the dough becomes repetitive, muscles working in harmony to transform a mound of humble ingredients into a soft elastic texture. As the dough rests and rises, the anticipation builds—the promise of crusty loaves and soft, pillowy interiors. You slipped the pans of dough into the industrial ovens, the heat attacking you the second you opened the door; making sure to place the pumpernickel, rye, sourdough, brioche and wheat loaves all sorted on different racks in the respective ovens.

By the time you put the loaves in ovens it had been two hours from when you began, even with preparation the day before and dough starters, it was a process. You quickly washed your hands before unlocking the door for Juno as well as anyone who wanted to come in to visit.

The clock read '7:09', because of the passthrough you were still able to look outside via the glass storefront, you could see people walking along the streets heading to whatever job they worked to contribute to the community, no one got paid, it was a commune after all, you couldn't imagine a world where everyone was so dependent on money and so obsessed with over-consumption. Part of you was waiting for one of those people to come in and wish you a happy birthday, but you shook the thoughts from your head.

You began to make the small portion for two of cupcake batter, remembering distinctly how four years ago you sat next to Sean at the Fourth of July party and he went on and on about how much he hated vanilla, it seemed like one of those crazy old man rants but you found delight in it. Never had you seen a man so passionate about cake flavouring. He said vanilla was nothing special, flavourless; you had come to learn that he was a chocolate man, every holiday event filling his pot belly with chocolate, when you had brought assorted sweets for a Christmas party he dove straight for the brownies. So it was easy for you to make up your mind on what flavour of cupcake to make.

After years of this cupcake tradition you had memorized each ratio to make, a double serving of chocolate batter consisting of 1/4 cup of flour, 2 1/2 tablespoons of white sugar, 1 tablespoon of unsweetened cocoa powder, 1/4 tablespoon of baking soda, a dash of salt, 2 tablespoons milk, two tablespoons canola oil, 1/4 tablespoon vanilla extract. You treated baking like it was a science and recipes were your formulas.

As for the frosting, you had a stockpile of plain buttercream that you took small servings from and flavoured according to said person's preference. All you had to do was whip it up and add some cocoa powder to make it fluffy and creamy again.

The bell above the doorway rang, signalling the arrival of someone, you looked up to see Maria. "Hey, there," You smiled, turning off the stand mixer so you could hear her.

"Hi, (y/n)," She greeted and you quickly wiped whatever was on your hands onto your apron before coming around to the service counter to speak with her. "I have something to ask of you."

"Yes?"

"I know you already do your little cupcake thing but we are throwing a surprise party tonight for Sean and I was hoping you could make a cake for him?"

You nod with a smile "Anything for the town chief."

"Great, then how about a simple vanilla cake?"

"Sean doesn't like vanilla," You answered quickly.

"Okay, well I trust you with it, his party starts at eight tonight in the town square and he's turning sixty so it's a big one, I'll see you there around then?"

"Definitely," You grinned at Maria, waiting for her to wish you a happy birthday and reveal that she was only pretending to forget but she didn't. She thanked you and walked out, leaving you in a flour-covered apron with a tinge of hurt in your heart. It wasn't like you weren't close with Maria, you had Thanksgiving at her house every year.

Nonetheless, it was only a blip in your soon-to-be perfect day. Just as you had frosted the two cupcakes, putting chocolate chips on Sean's and breaking half of a double fudge cookie and sticking it into the thick icing. Rainbow sprinkles cascade like confetti, adding a whimsical touch to the miniature confection. The bell rang again calling for your attention, this time you didn't leave the kitchen instead just moved to look at whoever it was by the passthrough.

"Hey, kiddo!" Tommy greeted, clad in a red flannel tucked into blue jeans. He walked into the bakery as comfortably as he would his home.

"Howdy, Tommy," You said, moving out of his sight for a quick moment to put the two cupcakes in the fridge to prevent the buttercream from prematurely melting.

"So, it's Sean's birthday today and I was wondering if you could bake a cake for his party-

"Maria was already in," You answered "Don't worry, I'm on it."

He smiled "Of course, you're always so on top of it," He leaned over the counter slightly, trying to get a look inside the kitchen via the passthrough "Say, have you got anything back there for me?" You opened the box of double fudge cookies you made the day before and scooted around the passthrough to hand him one, boots clattering on the ground. Tommy loved to visit the bakery as you always had a sweet treat for him and he would never get sick of the aromatic embrace of fresh bread. "Thanks, kiddo, I'll see you around."

This was the moment you were almost convinced that they were planning a surprise party for you, sure Maria could forget about your birthday, she was a busy lady but there was no way Tommy would. He was good buddies with your dad and was over at your place for beers a minimum of once a week. You always baked for him when he came over and he constantly joked about you trying to fatten him up.

The bell sounded again though you didn't bother to look up, you knew who it was by the time of the clock, Juno was starting her shift. As usual, she tied her mousy brown hair into a sleek ponytail then grabbed her apron and stuck a baseball cap on over her head so there was no chance of her hair coming loose. "Good morning," She walked into the kitchen, heading over to the sink to wash her hands.

"Mornin'," You answer.

She looks you up and down with a slight smile "You're wearing your favourite apron, must be a special day."

“Sure doesn't feel like it."

♡

Your birthday wasn’t panning out great but you didn't want to lose hope.

You had walked over to the greenhouses after your shift to find Sean, he loved the cupcake, he even hugged you which was nice albeit a little odd. You walked through town a bit after you had stopped and talked to everyone on the street for not a single one to say the words you've been pleading to hear all day. Taking it as defeat, you grabbed a sandwich for lunch from the mess hall and began the desolate walk home.

Nestled at the end of a peaceful, tree-lined street, the charming but battered house had a certain charm that cut through its worn yellow exterior. Tentacles of ivy wrapped about the crumbling outside walls, their green tones infusing the dilapidated building with a hint of the natural world's tenacity. The worn-out yet friendly doormat and weathered rocking chair on the porch told of years spent taking in the changing of the seasons. The wooden frames of the windows, adorned with faded drapes that seen innumerable sunsets, spoke tales of laughter and time passed.

The house's coziness unfolded inside like a time capsule, with worn-out rugs covering creaky floorboards and a fireplace in the living room that was adorned with vintage tiles that were mismatched and provided warmth in more ways than one. The rooms had a lived-in comfort despite the peeling wallpaper and chipped paint, and each mismatched piece of furniture seemed to tell a story of its own. Despite being tatty and ragged around the edges, the house exuded a calmness that invited guests to enjoy the beauty concealed in the flaws of a place that had aged gracefully and with character like most homes in Jackson. The living room was always your favourite, there was a spruce bookshelf pushed behind the gray, L-shaped couch, and the rug was once a maroon colour though it's clear that it's been well-loved over the years. Pillows and throw blankets were carelessly scattered over the couch from when you and your dad had watched '21 Jumpstreet' the night before, he kept saying it was a shame the outbreak happened before they got to make a second one, though many of the jokes didn't land with you, you loved to see your dad laugh so hard he snorted. The room was illuminated by a warm glow from the fairy lights overhead that your dad scavenged years prior, a small stack of books piled up on the coffee table which had been hand-crafted by Joel.

You popped 'Mean Girls' into the DVD player, just to have some background noise and went to the kitchen and started on Sean's cake. As much as you loved the bakery, you wanted to be somewhere a little more close to comfort.

As you measured each ingredient with care, you couldn't shake the bittersweet feeling that lingered in the air. Sifting the ingredients into the bowl, you had wished your father was home from patrol duty, all you really wanted was a hug but instead, you slaved away at a black forest complete with layers of moist sponge, decadent frosting, and a profusion of vibrant decorations.

As you delicately frosted the cake, your mind flitted between thoughts of the celebration and the poignant fact that everyone seemed to have overlooked your own special day. The kitchen, usually a sanctuary for you to escape to, now harboured the weight of unspoken emotions. Your heart, though excited for Sean to get a nice surprise on his Birthday, held an unnoticed longing for acknowledgment.

The aroma of the baking cake filled the kitchen, mingling with the scent of disappointment that you couldn't quite shake.

As the cake took shape, you couldn't help but think back to the calendar at the bakery, where the date circled in red seemed to mock you. Your own birthday, usually a day filled with surprises and the warmth of laughter, had slipped through the cracks of everyone's awareness. Though the night was still young and Ellie had said that she was planning something incredible.

Finally, nine was about to roll around, you changed into some clean clothes that hadn't yet carried the memories of your disappointing day, just a white top and some jeans. The sun had set, and your dad wouldn't be home for a good while so you walked over to the town square alone.

There was a table full of food and a long banner that read 'Happy Birthday Sean!' strung between two street lamps. There were twinkling fairy lights illuminating what would have otherwise been a dark night.

"There she is!" Tommy smiled, doing that awkward little dad jog over you. "Wow, that cake looks incredible, mind if I take it off your hands?"

"Go ahead," You held out the cakeboard. Tommy gingerly took it away from your grasp, his forearm underneath to support and his other hand held the side of the board for balance.

"I owe ya' kiddo," He winked before taking the cake away to show a group of adults.

You stood around awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to do with yourself. You turned your attention to the moon, wanting to believe that it shined so very bright just for you, because the moon, unlike everyone else recalled how important this day was to you-

"SURPRISE!" Everyone erupted in cheers as Sean walked up to his party, his daughter had her arm linked with his. He had the biggest smile on his face it almost made you forgive everyone for forgetting because at least Sean got something thoughtful.

"Lord, I was thinking everyone forgot my birthday!" Sean laughed, pulling Tommy in for a hug.

"(y/n)!" Dina yelled, you turned your head to follow her voice. She was sitting at a long picnic table beneath an awning with some friends "Over here," She motioned for you to sit down and you obliged, taking a spot between Ellie and Laila. "What have you been up to? I feel like I haven't seen you all day."

"That's because you haven't," You said with an awkward smile. "I've just been baking, like always."

"You're always working so hard, I swear you live in that bakery and when you aren't in there your busy busting your ass around town to make sure everyone gets something on their birthday," Dina sat across from you and put a hand onto yours "You look out for everyone, but who's looking out for you?"

"My dad?" You glance at Ellie who isn't tuned into the conversation in the slightest, she has her arms crossed in front of her on the table and her head resting on them.

"Aw, that's sweet-" Kayla moves to look at you but in doing so, she spills a glass of juice onto you. "I'm so sorry," She slaps one hand over her mouth, her eyebrows furrowing. Kayla stood up from the table, her ginger curls rustling with the breeze "I'll get a cloth or something-

"Don't worry about it," I wave her off "It's just clothes, I'll grab some napkins." You push yourself away from the table, walking over to the table adorned with food, you see a small stack of Christmas themed napkins (it must've been hard for them to come by regular ones) and grab a handful, bunching them up in your hand in an attempt to soak up some of the juice that had already indefinitely stained your clothes.

You feel some eyes on you from the other side of the table, to look up and see Joel, he doesn't say anything though his lips are pressed together tight.

"You're back," You say, a spark of happiness rekindling inside of you "So my dad's back from patrol too?"

Joel nods "Too tuckered to come out, said he was just heading home," He uses tongs to put a couple cuts of chicken onto his plate "Oh and happy birthday, you've probably heard that a whole bunch already, lord, it's all your old man would talk about on our last couple of patrols."

"What did you say?" You look at him with furrowed eyebrows, unsure if he said what you really thought.

"I said happy birthday, shame you've stained your clothes on your birthday," He absentmindedly added some mashed potatoes onto his plate. The words hung in the air, a moment that transcended the boundaries of their usual exchanges. You, momentarily taken aback, met Joel's gaze. It was a simple, earnest wish, uttered with the spontaneity of someone who had remembered a small yet significant detail in the whirlwind of festivity.

"Thank you, Joel," You replied, your voice carrying a mix of surprise and gratitude. In that fleeting instant, the isolation that had surrounded her seemed to dissipate. A connection, however tenuous, had been forged in the acknowledgment of her existence amidst the collective celebration.

"No problem, kid, I'll see you around," He left with his plate leaving you to stand alone at the table. You continued to dab at the juice on your white top, and though you knew it wouldn't come out you proceeded to rub it; the best exchange of your day, no more than eight sentences suddenly turned from joy to frustration. The only two people who remembered your birthday were your dad and a fiftey-eight-year-old man who practically raised the girl you had spent years crushing on, not the girl herself, but her father figure. However, you thought, maybe if Joel remembered, Ellie had aswell and she actually did have something planned.

Amidst the lively chatter and laughter that reverberated through the night, you stood in the midst of flickering candles and colourful decorations, your eyes cast down to the ground. The atmosphere of celebration enveloped her, but a palpable sense of solitude hung in the air like a heavy mist settling upon your shoulders. It was a birthday party, yes, but not your own. Forgotten and overlooked, your heart echoed with a quiet ache, the irony of your situation casting a shadow over the festive scene.

The square was adorned with streamers and balloons, a tapestry of colours that seemed to dance in rhythm with the joyful voices around her. The community gathered, their faces lit by the warm glow of the fairy lights and street lamps, each one caught up in the merriment of the moment. Yet, for you, the celebration felt like a distant spectacle, a scene from which you were detached.

It was your birthday too—a fact that no one cared enough to recall. As Darla (Sean's daughter) calls guests toward a decadent cake adorned with candles, which you had made, you couldn't escape the bitter irony of the situation. You watched as the room erupted into a chorus of "Happy Birthday," the song meant for another soul, another moment of joy. You joined in, lips forming the familiar words, your voice harmonizing with the collective melody. But within the depths of your being, the celebration rang hollow, a stark contrast to the cheer that echoed around you.

Throughout the evening, you navigated the party with a forced smile, concealing the invisible weight of your emotions. Conversations buzzed like bees in your ears, no- it grated like a fork in a blender, but you found yourself on the outskirts—a silent observer amidst the numerous connections. The laughter that erupted like fireworks, the clinking of glasses, the embraces of old friends—it all seemed distant, an echo from another realm where she once belonged.

The party unfolded as a series of snapshots: a group photo with smiling faces, a toast to Sean, and the opening of gifts that weren't meant for you. Each moment, though vibrant and filled with the warmth of shared camaraderie, magnified the silence that enveloped your own celebration, forgotten and left to dissolve into the shadows.

As the night carried out, seeming like the celebration would never cease, you cut yourself a slice of cake, grabbing one of the half-melted candles that Sean had already blown out, they sat in a frosting-covered pile next to the cake. You took your favourite colour out of the rainbow assortment of candles and stuck it into the piece of black forest cake.

With your cake you sat back down by Ellie at the picnic table where she still returned to after conversing, everyone else had gotten up to dance. You reached for the lighter in your pocket and struck it to ignite, sparks flickered around the end of it, you struck it again and a flame arose, you carefully brought it to the wick of the partially melted candle.

The flickering flame cast a subtle glow as you made a silent wish for understanding, for the beauty found in selflessness, and for the recognition that sometimes the most meaningful celebrations are the ones we craft for others, even in the quiet echoes of our own unacknowledged birthdays. Ellie turned to look at you as the candle's flame danced in the darkness, before you could blow out the candle to solidify your wish a little girl climbed up onto the bench and blew it out, you looked at her and all she did was smile up at you, the gap in her teeth prominent, her deep chocolate hair braided so intricately you had to believe that it must've taken her mother hours.

As much as you wanted to deck that little girl in the face for ruining your moment, you didn't because it would be wildly inappropriate. "Do you want this?" You sighed, holding out the plate to the girl, she smiled and nodded enthusiastically, taking the cake and scattering away "Hey, Ellie," You pushed back tears in your eyes, forcing a smile on your face "Got any plans later?"

“Yeah," She said, short

"Oh, what are they?"

"Not to sound like a cunt but I'm not really in the mood to talk, I had a shit patrol and all I want to do is go home, smoke a joint, watch a movie, maybe read a comic, and pass out on my couch, the only reason I'm here is that Dina dragged me out and Joel said I need to be more involved in the community."

Your smile dropped, you couldn't hold it in anymore, realizing that this wasn't the elaborate setup of a surprise party but Ellie genuinely forgot it was your birthday. "Are you serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Do you know what day it is?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember what's happening today?"

"It's Sean's birthday," She gestured to the party around her.

"You're fucking serious," Any amusement that had been in your tone was gone, replaced by a subtle anger boiling up inside of you

"Are you going to cry?" Ellie gave you a weird look "What are you so mad about?"

"I can't believe you," You laugh bitterly "Actually I can, this is so like you, I need to stop building it up in my head that you're going to surprise me with something great. But hey, at least you never fail to let me down."

"Jesus," She scoffed "There's always something going on with you, can you go one day without finding some irrational reason to be upset?"

"Irrational?"

"Yeah, irrational," She reiterated "You always come to me when something sets you off in the slightest then your problem becomes everyone else's. You're so fucking draining and I'm sick of it."

"Fuck you, I hope your comic catches fire from your joint and you burn your place down." You stand up from the bench, wiping tears away from your eyes. Your boots clattered against the cobblestone. You stormed past the dancers, some stopping to look at one another with concern. Dina leaves Jesse to ask Ellie what happened.

The walk home might've been the loneliest you had felt in your life, the harsh wind of the night bit at your nose. The feeling of the sticky juice soaking through your clothing was borderline unbearable, were just about ready to scream. There wasn't a single person out and about as everyone was either at the party or cozied up in their own homes.

Arriving at your doorstep, you fumbled with the handle, the metallic clink resonating in the quietude that enveloped the house. The door swung open, revealing the dimly lit foyer, still no surprise. Why do you still think there is going to be a party? No one is coming.

You wandered into the living room, the TV was lit with the options screen for 'Mean Girls' that you had put on hours earlier.

Sinking into the worn-out couch, You let the weight of the day wash over you. A single tear welled in your eye, and as it escaped, a floodgate of unshed sorrow burst open. The first teardrop traced a silent path down your cheek, leaving a glistening trail of heartache in its wake.

The tears you cried weren't silent and dainty but violent sobs that burned your throat each time you cried out. As you wept, it felt like someone had stabbed your gut with a thousand needles, you cried and cried, to no one in particular, maybe the moon glistening outside the window though the moon seemed to absorb your tears, offering no solace in return.

The soft tick of the clock on the wall echoed in the quiet room, marking the strike of midnight, your birthday had ended. There was no secret party or a prank where everyone was only playing an act, only the emptiness of the house echoed the howls soaked in your tears.

The oak staircase creaked, and your dad turned the corner, peering into the living room. "What's wrong, honey,?" He shook the sleep from his mind, focusing on what was important, he sat next to you on the sofa. "I thought you said you were going to be out all night with your friends?"

You shook your head, breathing shaky breaths alone, hardly able to get a word out "They forgot," You felt the harsh sting of desolation hit you all over again "Everyone forgot," You grabbed his grey t-shirt burying your face into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, cradling you gently like you were a child who had just scraped her knee not someone who had just turned nineteen, "Except for Joel, so be nice to him, please."

"I'm sorry, baby, it was probably just a mix-up," He rubbed one hand on your back to comfort you. "I should've been there with you, I'm so sorry."

You couldn't get the words out of your mouth, all you could manage was to shake in your father's arms with sobs until you cried yourself to sleep.

♡

"Happy birthday, Jasmine!" You smile brightly, presenting a lemon-raspberry cupcake to the woman. She was serving breakfast in the mess hall, the early morning light streaming through the many windows, blinding those trying to enjoy their meals.

"Aw, thank you, love" She took the cupcake "That's real sweet," She wore a hairnet, despite having short cropped hair. "I just realized I don't even know when your birthday is."

"It was yesterday, actually."

"Aww, how was it?" Jasmine smiled, her white teeth contrasting with her dark skin.

"It was nice, it was quiet too, I just spent it by myself."

A frown replaced Jasmine's smile and she lowered her tone "Did your friends drop the ball?"

You wave off her question "Oh no, loads of people remembered, I just wanted some time to myself, it was nice."

You could tell Jasmine didn't wholeheartedly believe you, she was at Sean's party last night and saw you rush out with tears building in your eyes "If you say so," She shrugged, taking a bite of her cupcake "This is really good."

"Thanks," A small smile plays on your lips.

"God bless you, sweetheart, you deserve the best." She said, every bit of truth behind her words. She took another bite of the cupcake, savouring the sweet and sour taste "And I mean that."

You were too caught up in conversation to notice Jesse ahead of you in the service line right away, he grabbed a glass and filled it with water from the dispenser, trying to play cool and not have your attention drawn to him. With a shaky hand, he put the glass on his tray and hurried over to the table where Ellie was eating with Dina. "Guys, something not that great just happened."

Ellie furrowed her eyebrows looking from Dina to Jesse "What?" She asked through a mouthful of scrambled eggs, she swallowed them down and spoke back up "Please tell us what terrible thing has happened in the time it took you to walk to the service line, get your food and come back?" Sarcasm dripped from her voice.

"We forgot (y/n)'s birthday," He said quickly, Ellie and Dina looked at each other with wide eyes, thinking back to the night before and the way they had both behaved. Dina was extremely ignorant and Ellie got into an argument with you, though Jesse didn't speak to you at all.

"We're awful friends," Dina says quietly, scraping her mind for any way they could salvage the situation and play it off like they hadn't forgotten. "We could change all of the calendars in town and make it seem like her birthday is actually today."

"Be serious, Dina," Jesse said, though he was considering her idea. "I think the only way we can fix this is by making it up to her."

"How would we do that? We can't make it up to her, she remembers every single person's birthday in this town and gives them a cupcake, even people she doesn't like, do you remember how she planned all of our birthday parties for the last four years and has never let us down?" Dina and Jesse nodded "And how we always scramble something together last minute? Like last year, we only remembered two days before and we threw her a subpar movie night, we watched Star Wars and she doesn't even like Star Wars."

Dina sucked air through her teeth "Yeah, not our best moment."

"You think?" Jesse asked, sarcastically. "And Ellie didn't make it any better by yelling at her yesterday!"

"You yelled at her? You told me you didn't yell at her," Dina whipped her head to look at Ellie, the smallest glimpse of judgment in her eyes. "Shh, she's coming!"

You were making your way to the exit lugging the cart that had held loaves of bread on it before you dropped them off to the kitchen, still in your flour-covered apron, hair pinned up messy, baby hairs flying away. Clad in jeans, a green T-shirt and beaten-up boots, clacking against the hardwood floor, you still looked beautiful to Ellie with red eyes and a puffy face from crying all night. "Watch this," Jesse murmured to the group before turning around and flagging you down. "Hey (y/n)!" He smiled brightly, his words catching your attention "Did you enjoy your birthday, yesterday?"

"Jesse, I know you heard me talking to Jasmine." You said and Ellie couldn't bear the disappointed look on your face. At that moment, the guilt hit her all at once. You had been the first kid her age that she warmed up to when she arrived in Jackson, trying your best to include her in everything. You invited her to hang out with your friends even though she didn't particularly get along with them, she went anyway because she just wanted to see you. On her birthday the previous year, you had scoped out an old comic store hours away just to bring her there for one day.

Jesse's smile fell and you had walked out the door before he had the chance to push a lie through his teeth. Last night's conversation echoed through Ellie's head over and over again, she cringed at the memory, god, why did she even say that?

Dina reached over the table and gave Ellie a harsh smack on the arm "Why did you even say that?!"

"Ow," She flinched, rubbing the spot that had been assaulted by Dina "What are you talking about?"

Dina looked at Ellie like she was just about ready to scream "What you said to her last night, what was going through your head?"

"Not much, apparently," Jesse answered for her, earning a death glare from the Auburn girl.

"I'll just apologize and it'll be water under the bridge," Ellie said, leaning back.

"That's not going to work," Dina replied quickly.

It, in fact, did not work. Ellie had shown up at the bakery where you promptly ignored her. "(y/n), I'm really sorry I forgot your birthday and said those things to you." Nothing Ellie said could get you to even look at her.

She had later stopped by your house, it was your dad who answered the door and Ellie sheepishly asked if you were home. He called for you to come down, the moment you saw Ellie, you shut the door in her face. There was no way she could defend herself, she couldn't say that she said those things because she had a bad day (even though she did), and that would just make her seem pathetic. She really wanted to say that she was scared of how much she liked you, she didn't want to ruin a good thing, you both had spent years playing the role of each other's best friend until Ellie started to distance herself from you and you ended up enwrapping yourself with work to distract yourself from the fact that she was drifting away.

Ellie didn't know what to do, if she didn't act fast, it would be too late and she was going to lose you.

♡

One week later

The sun was just beginning to set as you were already preparing to settle into bed and read a book, just about to change out of your floor-length sundress and into one of your dad's old shirts. However, your plans were interrupted when you heard your dad screaming downstairs, it was blood-curdling. You dropped everything, pulling your bedroom door open and rushing down the stairs, tripping on a step and stumbling before quickly regaining balance and moving with haste "Dad?" You called out, worry running through your head.

"SURPRISE!" People practically screeched, the volume so loud that you jolted back in fear. The chatter only grew as you looked around you and realized what was happening, this was your belated birthday party.

You were pulled in suddenly for a hug, squeezing you so tight you thought your eyes would pop out of your skull was Tommy "I'm so sorry, kiddo, I was being a real shithead on your birthday."

"It's okay," You choked out, nearly gasping for air. Much to your relief, he released you and you took a deep breath.

"Happy belated birthday!" Dina sang, placing a fat box in your arms. Many people followed after her, piling gifts on top of the initial one, you were quickly losing balance, so you stumbled into the living room and put the gifts onto the coffee table. There was so much life in the living room it was almost hard to believe that just a week before you had been crying alone, bathed in moonlight.

There were streamers strung throughout your house and odd dangly decorations that hung from the ceiling. Some balloons were taped to the walls while others bounced around the ground.

The lively hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the melodic strains of birthday wishes filled the room as the party pulsated with energy. Colourful decorations adorned the walls, and the air was charged with the festive spirit.

You had the biggest smile on your face while everyone joked and jeered. Shoving their gifts into your face, trying to get you to open them first. It had made you forget about how awful your real birthday was, though you did try to dodge awkward apologies of people fumbling over their own words to make up excuses as to why they missed your real birthday.

"Happy birthday to you-" A voice began singing, and soon enough the entire crowd joined in, harmonizing into an off-key rendition of the birthday song. They made way for the person carrying the cake which had been none other than Ellie herself. The song ended off and Ellie placed the cake in front of you on the coffee table. "Make a wish."

You blew out all of the candles, and no punchable little girl around to steal your thunder, the room erupted into applause. The celebration continued with the living room becoming a dance floor, laughter echoing through the corridors, and conversations flowing freely. The cake itself reminded you of the embroidery your dad had done on your apron, it was sloppy and imperfect but you could tell it was made with love, the icing had been put on prematurely and had partially melted off the cake. It read 'Happy birthday' with 'Sorry for being a dick' written smaller beneath the first bit of text.

"Thank you, Ellie," You smiled softly up at her.

No one else was paying attention to you anymore, aside from those who wanted a slice of cake. Ellie nervously fumbled around with her hands "Do you want to dance?"

Ellie invited you to dance as the opening notes of the song floated through the air and she held out her hand. With a gentle smile, you accepted and you moved into the middle of the living room to form a makeshift dance floor. The soft aroma of fresh flowers blended with the scent of vanilla candles created an ambiance that enhanced the moment's sensory magic.

To the gentle beat of the song, your bodies moved in unison. Your hand settled comfortably on Ellie's shoulder, and her hand wrapped around your waist. Your bond transcended the material in the living room dance, an unspoken language of mutual feelings and unknown depths.

You both danced, recklessly, so much so that you were nearly a hazard for the swaying couples drifting around you, moving faster and not hurriedly as the tempo picked up. With each step, the living room's walls became silent witnesses to a romance that was developing on the plush carpet under their feet. The muted rustle of your clothing and the melodic notes of the music were all that could be heard to your ears.

The two of you took great pleasure in the dance's exuberance, laughing at the imperfect nature of it. In the noise of the living room, your eyes, locked in a dance of their own, spoke volumes. You were embraced by the dim lighting's vulnerability, which freed you from the burdens of the outside world to fully enjoy the moment.

Ellie guided you in a soft spin as the song went on, your moves were not fluid and elegant but Ellie could've sworn that looking into your eyes made it feel like there was liquid sunlight coursing through your veins

You and Ellie drew closer in the song's last moments, your bodies pressed together in an embrace that went beyond the material. As the last notes of the music faded, they held each other for an extra moment, relishing the warmth that they shared and the unspoken promises that danced between them. You wished that you could've stayed in Ellie's strong embrace for centuries.

You let go of Ellie, taking a step back with a smile, "Why didn't you tell me you were such a good dancer?" You tease, almost out of breath.

"I didn't know I was," She grinned, taking the sight of you in. Your cheeks were flushed and your hair had become messy, she thought you to be beautiful all the same, if not more. Her eyes raked over your body, your floor-length sundress and mismatched socks "And here I was thinking it was too late for sundresses."

"It's never too late, Ellie."

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #the last of us #slow burn #the last of us ellie #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fluff #Ellie Williams X reader angst #angst #fluff #ellie x fem reader #mean!ellie #tlou #super slow burn

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carajalexander · 1 year

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Snowbound in New York

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Snowbound-New-York-Cara-Alexander-ebook/dp/B014I9JY8M/ref=sr_1_3?crid=13FIOB0H0Q5PJ&keywords=cara+j+alexander&qid=1671898778&s=books&sprefix=cara+j+alexander%2Cstripbooks%2C127&sr=1-3

I wrote this story a while ago, it’s available as an ebook through Amazon and Smashwords, perfect for your Kindle while the blizzard and white-outs continue. This was the longest review i’ve ever seen, take a look and get the book - 99c.

“I sat on James Dean, cross-legged as usual, looking down at his eyes staring at me from between my thighs, my coffee in hand, iPad in the other and a bagel with a little cream cheese at my side. Twitter, Facebook, emails, a few games - nothing more.” Ever felt this way, ladies? or even men? Wondering what to do when the weather’s a bit ornery? no where to go? Wanting to find that UTOPIAN moment to assassinate a little time? Well I have just the trick: Cara J Alexander’s latest erotic romp around the clock, “Snowbound in New York.” just released as Labor Day opens the dawn of the Fall Season and its partner, Holiday Hustle. The definitive goal, or ONE of them in erotic fiction (erotica) is, what I call here, the art of release. In reaching that goal, erotica must take its reader through certain garden paths of arousal and seduction; teasing and playing; titillation and ultimately exhilaration. Both schooled and novice readers of the genre must take the genre’s work for what it is, NOT what it should or shouldn’t be. Meaning, if you’re hungry for something that examines inner conflict seeking religious atonement, you don’t want to nibble on erotica’s apple - and Ms. Alexander’s apple is wickedly red, swollen in succulent sauces. In Snowbound, the author introduces us to Carla Anderson, a steamy New York fashion designer who happens upon her delightfully sumptuous friend, Bee, one morning while in the midst of a North Eastern snow dump. With nothing to do, and no where to go, these two ladies fancy foot free into a sashaying time of harassed energy turned unbridled rapture. Ms. Alexander’s tale is not quite novella, not quite short story, but somewhere in between - the perfect dosage of kisses tossed here, fondles sprinkled there - with oodles of “ah’s,” “oh’s,” and “Mmm’s” thrown EVERYWHERE. Carla + Bee = syrupy smooches baked to consummated perfection. Right now, Labor Day’s about to knock on the door to remind you it has friends - Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s - and they’ll quickly need hosting. I highly recommend taking a productive “quickie” with Cara J Alexander and her friends, Carla and Bee. Why not make it a threesome? Often it’s rumored two women parallels every man’s voyeuristic midnight fantasy. Maybe, too, it’s a woman’s. To Ms. Alexander, that’s inconsequential. What’s she’s done here is offer a VIP Red-Carpet Invite to spoon in somewhere cushy - maybe in velvet, maybe satin and lace. Maybe 500-count cotton sheet. Take your pick, but DO pick. Snowbound in New York is the culminating pre-holiday appetizer before the gluttonous invasion of the main course - with a Five-Star English twist.

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ghoste-catte · 3 years

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I was curious what advice would you give to someone new to writing fics? I've been wanting to get back into it but haven't seriously written something since high school. I hope this isn't an annoying question or anything!

Not an annoying question at all! I'm just a little worried that I won't have terribly good or useful advice. To be honest, I also sort of stopped writing in earnest right as I finished high school, and didn't pick it back up until my late 20s. It's certainly an adjustment! But I think the few things that really helped me get back into writing fic as a hobby and something I spend quite a bit of time on would be:

Write for yourself first, then find your other motivations. My original inspiration in getting back into fic writing was that there just were not that many fics I liked for my favorite pairing, and I wanted more of them, and I especially wanted more with the tropes and characterizations I wanted to see. I think at the very core of anything you need that internal spark that drives you. At the same time, for me at least, if I just relied on my own drive, I would not get much done; I need some external guardrails. So having people send prompts, or writing for particular events, or writing stuff for friends really helps me to get my ass in gear and finish stuff. That may not be the perfect motivator for you, and that's fine! You just gotta figure out what is.

Be open to inspiration. Anything and everything can be spun out into a story with the right tweaking. Obviously stuff like music is a classic inspiration source, but I've also pulled ideas from poetry, from memes, from Reddit threads, from YouTube videos, from rambling conversations on Discord and from real life to make fics out of. So many times, someone will post a silly Twitter screencap, and I'll think, There's a fic in this. And a lot of the time, there is! Research is a wonderful thing, but so is serendipity. If you're out there actively looking for ideas, eventually one that you like will stumble past you.

Find your community. I can genuinely say I never would have finished more than one fic if I didn't have fandom friends to talk to about even stupid headcanons, to bounce ideas off of, and to encourage me (and to encourage them in turn!). Discord has been a godsend, and some of my closest online friends are people I met in the GaaLee discord server. As I've gotten more comfortable as a writer, I've also joined general writing servers and Reddit communities and have found them immensely helpful on both a motivational level (bingos, sprints, owe-me challenges) and on a craft level (plot workshopping and writing ethics and live grammar help). It's a lot easier to think about fic ideas and hash through problem moments when I have a constant stream of fandom-related chatter coming from the little people who live in my phone! Ao3 is an amazing website, and it's great as, well, an archive, but it isn't social media by design. If you want conversation and human connection and cheerleading, you've gotta forge out and find it.

Make it a habit ... If you want to produce anything longer than a couple hundred words, you really have to set aside time for it. And writing is just like knitting or dirt biking or painting little model figurines: the more you do it, the more easily it comes. When I was first getting back into the proper swing of things, I committed myself to 30 minutes of writing per week. Just 30 minutes. I didn't even hit that goal every week, but there were tons of weeks I got on a roll and went over that amount, and by the end of the year I'd written over 200,000 words. I used to spend an hour laboriously tip-tapping out 200 words, but now I can easily blow through 1k in a 50 minute sprint. It's all about training that muscle.

... But don't make it a chore. With fanfic, you aren't doing this as a job, and you aren't ultimately doing it for anyone other than you. That means you can take breaks when you need them, you can set deadlines and then fail to meet them, you can write stuff and then decide to never post it. When you start getting burnt out, when the practice loses the joy and energy, stop. There's no 'hustle' here. In our capitalist society we're so trained to push past our limits and keep going even when it hurts us, but the hobby you do for connection and relaxation and whatever else shouldn't be like that.

Ignore metrics. Sometimes stuff isn't gonna get hits, or kudos, or comments. There are some basic 'rules' as to the stuff that does and doesn't get traction, but every time you post something it's a roll of the dice. If you're focused on watching that kudos counter tick up, you will get bummed out fast. And any writer will tell you that the stuff you think is your best work will never be the stuff that gets the most accolades. So you have to find something else to give you a sense of success. For me, it's watching my wordcount go up in my stats and those occasional comments where someone has a lot to say and that one person who always leaves me a <3 emoji (and, shout out to @egregiousderp, having someone to have long one-on-one conversations with about the stuff that never made it to page).

Don't strive for perfection. It's really easy to want your first ever fic to be a complete showstopper, the best fic fandom has ever seen, hitting all the tropes and the ideas and the characterization that you just know fandom is missing and would be everyone's top favorite if only it was written. This is a trap. No one fic can be all things. Most people who want to write an epic as their very first venture will not see the end of that epic, because they haven't put in the practice hours to make something on that scale work. That's not to say you can't start out with a big, sprawling multichap, just don't expect it to be the greatest thing since sliced bread if you're just starting out, and be okay with abandoning it for greener pastures if you get to that point. Think of the first time someone makes a vase out of clay or bakes a loaf of bread. That's never their best vase or their best bread. If they keep up with it, they'll make more and better vases and loaves. Likewise, your first fic is probably not gonna be your best fic. See it for what it is: your launchpad.

You can't edit an empty page, but you can over-edit a full one. This kind of spins off of #7, but if the words aren't there, you can't fix them. Daydreams and headcanons are fantastic (and god, how many times have I wished for a speech-to-text engine that projected my falling asleep thoughts onto a Google doc for later perusal), but they aren't fic. If you want to write fic, you've gotta get comfortable with the idea of sloppy outlines and rough first drafts. You can't build a house without a frame and you can't build a man without a skeleton (I mean, you can, I guess, but he'd be one floppy man). The nice thing about fic is that it doesn't matter if that frame is structurally unsound or the skeleton has 18 too many bones, you can clean that up in the editing process. But you can't start hanging curtains and arranging furniture in something that doesn't even have walls. That's the process. But! Also know when to set down the editor's pen and say, "Okay, this is good enough for government work", and call it done. ("Done" doesn't have to mean "posted", but it does mean, "I'm done picking at this for now, and I'm gonna go write some more stuff".) Over-editing can make stuff seem laborious and forced, and it prevents you from actually improving. To continue belaboring the house metaphor, you can spend your whole life rearranging furniture in just one room, but the end result of that is a pretty narrow existence and a room with a lot of footprints and tracks in the carpet.

Write shit down. When you have ideas, jot them down--in a notebook, in a Google Doc, in the Notes app of your phone, in pen on the back of your hand. You think you will remember that brilliant line of dialogue or sparkling snippet of narration or genius plot that came to you in a dream, but you Will Not. Write it down. Write it down. Write it down! There have been so many times when a fic was completely saved by past!me having written down my shower thoughts about what happens next in the fic, that present!me had completely forgotten about and was floundering over.

Have fun with it! Try different stuff. Try stupid stuff. Try experimental stuff. Do stuff you've never done before that you aren't sure will work. It's important to get comfortable with your niche (for example, I know I'm never going to be the sort of person who writes intricate plots of intrigue or super long 100k epics or detailed battles), but you can't find that niche unless you explore lots of different niches! Figure out what you love and what you absolutely hate, and then keep doing the stuff you love.

Okay, so that was actually TEN things, but ... I hope you still found this helpful. Feel free to send another ask if any of this was confusing or unclear. Good luck with your fic writing and, if you want, send me a link to what you've written once you've written it! I'd love to read it.

#answered #anonymous #writing advice #i guess?#am i qualified to give this?#no #but im doing it anyway

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exeggcute · 3 years

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tiktok making the rounds on twitter ten-year-old girl giving a ted talk about how she can't wait to be an adult so she can Work and how she's all baked into this hustle culture shit but her dad is literally grant cardone the dipshit real estate guy who got insanely rich off of selling motivational speeches where he promises to give you the secrets to getting rich but the way he gets rich is by charging $10k a pop for tickets to see him talk. and he is also a scientologist.

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imaginariumpod · 4 years

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For the defense of slowing down: a study of slowness in cinema.

Leisure - Poem by William Henry Davies

What is this life if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs

And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,

Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,

Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty's glance,

And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can

Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this is if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

For the defense of slowing down: a study of slowness in cinema.

This article is one that I have been meaning to write for a while and that is very important to me in a lot of ways, but also I feel like with the amount of people staying at home and who have had to slow down their pace of life one way or another in the past months, it just feels oddly relevant. A lot of people have been forced to ease the pace of their lives, and have had the time, maybe for the first time in years, to spend on things they couldn’t before. People who have been trying to take care of themselves in any way they can, by maybe learning how to cook or bake bread, maybe finally having the time to just take a nap and not feel any guilt because they aren’t productive.

This might be more personal than usual because I feel like I really do need to put this subject in perspective to myself first, and then in perspective to the general context and climate that is shaping our world. We live in a culture where productivity is valued more than anything, where you are expected to go above and beyond, and to run yourself to the ground in the pursuit of success, of money, of efficiency. If you don't have a side project or four, it might feel like you are a bit of a failure because don’t you know you have to take advantage of every opportunities out there to make a name for yourself ? This hustle culture that is becoming predominant everywhere, but especially in western culture, is definitely a byproduct of capitalism in a way it never have been seen before. You only have to take a look in the self-help section of a bookshop or a library to feel exhausted : The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People, The Power of Habit: Why We Do What We Do in Life and Business, or Ready for Anything: 52 Productivity Principles for Getting Things Done.

While I think being a hardworking person and trying to be productive in order to achieve your goals, there’s definitely a point where it’s too much for one person to handle, and when this constant stress of needing to be successful all the time and to always go above and beyond what is needed becomes a societal expectation placed on all of us, that’s when it becomes dangerous. There’s a certain climate that is saying that we need to be constantly productive to be valuable to the system, or else, what is the point of you existing.

And my friends. the only point is you being alive. And being content. and that’s what matters in the end.

The point isn’t to further a corporation’s agenda, the point isn't to exhaust yourself trying to play the game of a system that is designed to fail you. The point is that, maybe, someday, you wake up a bit earlier than usual, and you drink your tea in a world that is still quiet and peaceful. The point is, maybe that you feel safe, that you feel content, that you feel loved, and you have the time to just breathe.

And to just be.

Take a breath.

So most of my friends know this, but I feel like I need to share this to give my proper perspective on this subject. Before finishing my Bachelor’s degree in Art History, I had previously done two years in architectural design. It seemed like a good idea at the time, it was a creative endeavor that seemed fulfilling and yet also a smart move practically speaking. I wanted to be able to find a job after finishing university, and maybe continuing on to grad school to eventually become an architect. That was the initial plan when I was 20 and started university. Fresh-eyed, full of hope and determination.

Those two years were a nightmare.

To sum up really quickly, I was so stressed and anxious, I ended up having constant panic attacks and breakdowns for a whole month, every single day of that month, which made me take the difficult decision to give up on that degree. I had an actual burnout before my 22nd birthday and had to take a full year off to recover from this.

I think it’s then, that I truly was hit by how dangerous fatigue and exhaustion could end up being, both mentally and physically. How, when pushed by the constant pressure to perform and to catch up to a standard that keeps rising, and to a speed that keeps getting faster and faster, one is bound to crack at some point. The stress and anxiety that this puts on people can easily get to be too much to handle. That year off, being forced to slow down, to reconnect with myself and with who I am and with what I wanted from life really was one of the most beneficial things to me and I just wanted to give a bit of my story to make you understand where I am personally coming from, when it comes to slowing down, and to slowing the pace of life. Unfortunately, most of us have a story that resembles this in some way shape or form. I know I was incredibly lucky to be able to take that year off, and it's a privilege many of us might not be able to have.

So this is why I think i can say, that for a lot of us, we are just tired. We are so tired. I know I am exhausted. Life can just be so tiring, there’s this really fine line between being productive and having an active life and being run to the ground. It’s a fine line that a lot of us thread, and it can get overwhelming very easily. Indeed, «life has become fast-paced, as people try to live up to these expectations. Yet, while many people might be materially affluent, their quality of life and work-life balance are often unsatisfactory, and potentially lead to stress and burnout (Schor, 1998).» I feel that especially for the current modern life experience, a lot of us can relate to that, in ways it may not have been felt before in previous generations. Time has always been precious, but it just feels like there’s never enough hours in the day to be able to finish all the things you want to do.

The luxury of time. Time to do nothing.

It might seem that we have more time, but «that free time is used to cram more activities into the day and to travel further to work». Which means that we are all trying to manage to do everything at once, whether it’s working, and trying to continue learning, and needing to keep yourself in shape, and to keep your space clean, and also needing to keep a social life, and sleeping well, and etc and etc. It feels like you always have to do this and that and the list of expectations and goals to meet is never ending and constantly adding up. Indeed, «it is not just free time that people desire, but more time for meaningful things». You are just one person, and there’s only so much one can do before it gets to be too overwhelming. And in those moments, I think it’s important to just. Take a deep breath and Slow down.

We need rest. we need fulfillment. I think there’s a lot of disenchantment toward modern life, by the dream that have been sold to us since we were young. Just work harder and you’ll make it. Work more hours, do more things, put yourself out there, run yourself ragged to the ground and then you will finally get what you deserve (money ! fame ! success ! love ! Family ! Friends! ) and yet all we have is exhaustion and stress and anxiety and pain. I think this whole context has made it so that there’s a resurgence lately of an appreciation for slower media, whether we are talking about movies, books or something else.

I think it can be really interesting to mention the newest Animal Crossing game (Animal Crossing : New Horizons) that has been played by a lot of people since its release, which has been considered like «the video game equivalent of a relaxing getaway — and we could all use that kind of respite right now.» Those kind of slower paced games where you have to build your own life and take care of a city, village or, in this case, island (slow-life simulation games) let players exerce control in their island in a way they feel they might not be able to in their own live. This is a very wholesome game that players can get really engrossed into, and that can provide them with much needed relief and escapism from the troubles of real life, when things get really hard. Those type of games also need you to take things slowly, one step at a time, which I think is very interesting when we think about low-stress sources of entertainment.

«In this, the game forces you to take it one day at a time. You can bypass this by "time traveling," or setting your Switch system clock ahead of time to advance quicker than the game intends for you to, but this isn't how it's meant to be played. You're supposed to feel a sense of slow, but meaningful progression throughout the course of your island adventure, and artificial time changes take away from that»

I could also mention the growing popularity of the cottagecore aesthetic on various social platforms such as tumblr, Instagram and twitter. While being predominantly a visual and aesthetic trend, cottagecore does reflect a growing desire by younger people in their teens and early 20s to have simpler and slower life. Dreams of just living in a tiny house, with maybe a vegetable patch, and all of the time in the world to just bask in the sun. As «[a]n obvious backlash to the hustle culture embodied by Fiverr ads, cottagecore attempts to assuage burnout with a languid enjoyment of life’s mundane tasks.» This aesthetic trend then seems an answer to the growing consumerism and rapid pace of life.

This seems like an unattainable fantasy to most of us, which is why I think a lot of people have been gravitating toward those aesthetics and ways of thinking and living. «It’s a romanticised idea that we could leave behind all the stress and craziness in our lives to go live off-the-grid, where emails can’t reach us and our only task is baking bread or making jam. » I know this isn’t something that everyone longs for, but to me, this sounds like a dream and something that seems like a distant hope. I do wish I could take some time off in a small cottage or mediterranean house, maybe not forever, but maybe spend a few months with the freedom of having the time to myself and using that time the way I desire. Just so one can breathe, reconnect with oneself and have enough energy to keep moving on. «Cottagecore is the perfect escape, it’s soothing and calming but it’s also relatively attainable. Maybe we can’t all go live in a cabin in the woods, wearing nothing but flowy dresses while tending to our garden of wildflowers. But we can learn to cross stitch, we can bake bread, we can buy some watercolours, we can have a picnic in our backyard.»

I am always so anxious about so many things and the only thing I want at any given moment is to have a small house and no responsibilities greater than doing the groceries and watering the plants in my garden. I think that life has gotten very hard and difficult to handle, what with the climate crisis, the political unstableness, the economical unstableness, the rise of the alt-right, and now the whole global pandemic going on, it’s easy to understand why people would feel drawn toward comforting things : « Rebecca Jennings ties a push for coziness in branding (and trends like cottagecore) to the feeling that "things are bad, and people are anxious about whatever ongoing horrors are metabolizing in geopolitics, the environment, and capitalism." »

I want to be safe financially and fulfilled. I want to have the time and space to do the things I really want to achieve instead of giving my time away to a system that does not care about me.

I want to have the calm of heart that I have lost years ago and that I yearn to regain.

nostalgia & aesthetic

There's an aesthetic of nostalgia that is really present in a lot of slow living content and slow media. I don't think ANY of us want to go back in time where things weren’t better for any of us unless you maybe are a white straight cis man, and even then.... In my opinion, slow living and wanting to slow down is not a rejection of technology or modernity in itself, but inherently a rejection of capitalism. You do not have to be productive to be valuable, and to be deserving of happiness, of peace, of love and of dignity. You deserve all of that no matter how useful or not you are to the capitalist system. It’s not about going back to oppressive social norms, but moving forward from them.

I also feel like slow living brings a self care as deeper than the shallow superficial and capitalist self care that's being sold to us. I’m not going to deny that it feels nice to do an extensive skincare routine before sleeping, but there’s a lot to be said about a nightly ritual that makes you feel more grounded in yourself and taking care of yourself and the body you inhabit versus the gigantic capitalistic machine that is the Beauty Industry™. The same way the simple acts of taking of yourself and taking the time to slow down can be a revolutionary act of self-love, they can also be taken advantage of and capitalized on by the huge capitalist industries that use wellness, self-care and self-love as marketing tactics. In our era, it feels simply impossible now to get away from the “treat yourself” campaign. Industries have tapped into the real desire of people to live a more meaningful and happier life by making it mostly into a trend, and not an intentional change to someone’s lifestyle to make it better.

I am of the opinion that slowing down shouldn’t be a trend, but a very deliberate act taken in order to take care of ourselves, of our mental health and our physical health. I think it’s a very essential need that we have to not feel burnt-out and to not feel trapped and stifled by our own lives, and having the space and energy to pursue our dreams and desires.

(Not to say the culprit is capitalism … but the culprit is capitalism) (also not to advocate for revolution on a public platform but revolution)

What I mean by slow media, and slowness in media is that content that tends to be more of the slice of life genre. They are peaceful, quiet. Maybe nothing much happens at all, but it rings very true and very real. Those moments of calm are soothing when maybe the rest of my life really is not. The way someone relates to art and media is very personal and can vary a lot, but the escapism that this sort of stories provides and I feel that with the faster pace of life that has become the norm, it might become something that we seek more often than not.

To me, this sort of media feels like relief.

slow cinema

Cinema has long been a medium that is very efficient at communicating epic and grandiose stories. Movies that are jam packed with action and drama and heightened emotions and tension. And while those movies can be very good and entertaining, I think there’s also a place in the world of cinema for movies that are slower. In fact, there’s a distinct genre of movies where the focus is not on a very fast paced plot or extravagant action scenes and dramatic events, but where the importance is placed on the mundane. Where the slow moments of everyday life and the quiet emotions that we all feel take precedence. It’s possible to name filmmakers such as Yasujiro Ozu or Agnes Varda.

We could also talk about movies such as the Before Trilogy by Richard Linklater (Before Sunrise (1995), Before Sunset (2004), Before Midnight (2013)), where each movie spans a very short period of time and consists entirely of conversations between two people. Those movies are slow, ordinary and yet extraordinary in the sense that it’s two people who have found each other and are speaking and connecting. There’s nothing much that’s happening in those films, and yet it’s impactful.

The movies made by those directors who tend to favor slower cinema often showcases a simpler plotline, but a more complex emotional arc. They are full of slow and quiet scenes, which makes those movies soothing, calming and nostalgic.

What is slow cinema though ? in the academic sense, slow cinema is often defined as «a modern cinematic production trend that emphasizes slowness and duration of time» Even though there’s a lot of more contemporary cinematic examples of slow cinema in more experimental movies such as directors Abbas Kiarostami or Tsai Ming Liang whose movies are very much in line with what is slow cinema. When it comes to slow movies, «Flanagan writes that the stylistic features of ‘slow films’ are “the employment of (often extremely) long takes, de-centred and understated modes of storytelling, and a pronounced emphasis on quietude and the everyday,”» The techniques used in slow-paced movies will often communicate a romanticization of everyday life, of routine, of moments that are quiet and peaceful.

There’s a lot of emphasis put on the passage of time, whether it’s a slow drag of time, with nothing much to do, the quiet moments that punctuates our daily lives or the years passing by and the plotlines in those movies spanning years, generations and even lifetimes. I think this is one of the reason why this kind of cinema can be really relevant in our times, where we feel that time is a precious commodity that isn’t ours anymore, and where time is filled with the pressure of being constantly productive, slow cinema poses itself as the antithesis of that.

«Slow Cinema situates itself solidly within art cinema both in aesthetic and methodology: it is defined by authorship that hinges on the representation of reality. It carries with it a disposition towards the consumption of time that forces the audience to labour through and critically engage with the film itself.»

It’s possible to see that this type of cinema is something that’s very sought after lately, as proven by this letterboxd list The Absolute Beauty in Everyday’s Mundanity, which has been liked by a total of 6,092 people at the moment of writing this article (including me). Containing 209 movies that fit into what the list maker considers as being slow movies that showcase the beauty of everyday life, this list demonstrates that there’s a very definite space for movies that have a more deliberate pace and who, instead of trying to heighten the stakes and action constantly, do take the opportunity to just. Slow down.

An enchanted month.

Elizabeth Von Arnim (1866-1941) was a english author active during the early 20th century. She wrote both fictional and non-fictional books, and the ones I have read from her are very in this vein of slow living, taking the time to just sit in a garden, and let time heal you. It's from her book Enchanted April (1922), which is one of my favorite books and that I wholeheartedly recommend, that the consequent 1992 movie, released by the BBC, was adapted from.

Von Arnim made a point to give a prevalent place in her books to the spaces where one could feel at ease and free from the constraints dictated by social norms and what people might expect from you : «In the garden, Elizabeth von Arnim could think, reflect, and distance herself from the oppressions and duties of the highly rigid and strict German culture that she had adopted through her marriage to Count Henning von Arnim. In observing the varying seasons of nature in conjunction with an active pleasure in literature, she perceived the garden as a metaphor of her life in terms of the development of her soul, and in this context, she believed herself to be in "the process of becoming".» I think it’s possible to draw a parallel between the demands of life that are growing increasingly harder to handle. While Von Arnim puts is mostly in relation to the social norms that were in place during the 1920s, it’s possible to see that the desire for slowing down during the 2020s stem mostly from a tiredness of the ultra-capitalistic world we live in.

The story of Enchanted April starts during a dreary month of march. Grey. Tiring. We have all went through months like these where the responsibilities and list of things to do, and slow drag of the days gets to be unbearable. Mrs Lotty Wilkins sees an a journal advert to rent a castle in Italy for a month, and under the grey drizzling London skies. And she yearns for that moment of respite. Far from her obligations, from her nagging husband and being able to take time for herself for the first time in years.

Eventually, four immensely different women will end up in this castle in San Salvatore, Italy, for a whole month. Each of those women have a distinctive purpose in this book, but they all seem to be looking for something similar: an escape from their frantic and boring daily life, a relief from routine, from the lack of connection and intimacy that they feel. In the midst of those charmed italian gardens, you feel like they can finally take a breath, loosen up and rest.

«She moved about with quick, purposeful steps, her long thin body held up straight, her small face, so much puckered at home with effort and fear, smoothed out»

And just reading that, or watching the movie, gives me a similar respite. The sun lits all the shots, the wind blows gently in the tree leaves, and the clothes that are worn are looser, more comfortable. This movie is charming, humorous and delightful. But most of all, it’s slow paced and soothing. You have drawn out scenes where nothing much happens but the moments are peaceful and reassuring. I rewatch it every april, because while I cannot take a month off to spend it in an isolated italian castle, oh god I Yearn So Much For It.

Even though, this story is set during the 1920s, thus being a contemporary story written by Von Arnim, I cannot help but feel that this story is one that is still deeply relevant today, in the 2020s. The thoughts of the characters seems very familiar and relatable : «For Lady Caroline Dester, the process of change is longer, more involved, and more isolated. She approaches San Salvatore with a “dream of thirty restful, silent days, lying unmolested in the sun, getting her feathers smooth again, not being spoken to, not waited on, not grabbed at and monopolized, but just recovering from the fatigue, the deep and melancholy fatigue, of the too much”»

In Enchanted April, this month in Italy is a moment of quiet rest for these four women, bt also a time dedicated to oneself and to introspection. «Initially, each woman desires to be alone for long stretches of time: Mrs Fisher in her room, Lady Caroline in a chair in the top garden, and Mrs Wilkins and Mrs Arbuthnot in the gardens and hills. Each is free to reflect on her life and begin to have a clearer understanding of herself in relation to others. »

A late afternoon:

Yasujiro Ozu (1903-1963) is one of the prominent filmmakers in Japan during the first half of the XXth century. His movies had a very distinct style and technique to them that made his work really unique to himself. A lot of filmmakers tried to replicate or imitate the stylisation of his work, but there was something in Ozu’s work that was very particular to the period of cinema he lived in. He was active from the later half 1920s until his untimely passing on his birthday in 1963. This means he lived through the Second World War as well as through a time of great change and evolution in the world.

It’s possible to write a hundred pages on Yasujiro Ozu alone because there’s a lot to say about him and his movies, whether it’s about the narrative and the story he chose to portray or the techniques and stylisation that characterize what is an Ozu movie. I thought it was relevant to mention him when talking about slower movies and slower paced media, because of the impact that he had on film, especially when it comes to using the medium to tell stories of lost and quiet moments.

With the increased modernity and a rapidly changing world, Ozu’s films, such as Tokyo Story ( 1953), Late Spring (1949) and Floating Weeds (1959) tried to capture the very modern life he and his contemporary were experiencing and the way they dealt with these changes. Even though Ozu’s movies were particularly specific to a certain period and country, it’s indeed impossible to disassociate Ozu’s movies from the fact that they were made in Japan, and that Ozu went through the pre-war, war and post-war era and continuously made movies during these times.

Which means that his films do reflect a certain time in Japanese history which makes them incredibly specific and contemporary to the society he lived in. «However, I believe that the film is less about articulating the value of modernity against the challenge of tradition than observing the subtle state whereby the former unknowingly pervades the latter. In this sense, rather than the overt manifestation of free movement outside of the home, the trivial motion inside the confined domesticity are a more essential element in Ozu’s films. In other words, in Ozu, modernity exists within the everyday, a stable flow that undulates but hardly overflows.» Nonetheless, the issues and subjects tackled in those movies, such as intergenerational conflict, the difficulty that people have to catch up with a world with values that are rapidly changing, and modernity. Those problems are a universal experience, but were communicated in a unique lense through Yasujiro Ozu’s movies.

The focus of most of Ozu’s films is centered around the familial unit, and the conflicts and moments that arise between them as life moves forward. The everyday moments in a world that gets harder to navigate each day. The story of a daughter who is pressured to married, and the dilemma and conflicts between the societal expectations that people have of her, her own wants and needs and also the desire to be able to strike a balance between those two elements. I think that this, while not being necessarily being a universal experience, can still be an incredibly relatable one.

Once she gets married, she needs to move forward with her life and leaves her widowed father to live alone, which really showcases the simple and universal realities of real life. The plotlines of Ozu’s movies focus on simple and universal conflicts and problems, the stories he tells through those movies are nonetheless things that are universal and. the way he presents them are beautiful, quiet and, most importantly, real. «More broadly, Ozu’s omission of important events also speaks to his interest in the mundane, his desire to uncover the emotional nuances within small talk, daily routines, and other “boring” details of everyday life.»

There are quiet moments of silence, of rain falling while someone is folding clothes or eating. Laughter and companionships. Tears and pain and love and hurt and all of the very important emotions that compose the human experience. «the great filmmaker used to evoke a sense of melancholy and poetry in everyday existence.» which is something that truly is a balm to the soul in my own humble opinion. There’s a lot of vulnerability in this slowness, a very real sadness and emotionality that is very raw and yet mundane in its encompassing universality of the human experience.

The stylistic choices that Ozu decides to take all tend toward this one goal of showcasing the quiet movement of life, while hinting at the tumultuous feelings that people might feel, and the world around them. His movies were simple and slow but very meaningful as well. «Ozu’s films often violate the stylistic conventions of mainstream filmmaking. For example, one “rule” in classical Hollywood cinema is that every shot should clearly and obviously advance the narrative. Yet Ozu’s films frequently feature what commentators call “pillow shots” – namely, shots of landscapes, objects, or interiors that have no apparent connection to the protagonists and what they’re doing plotwise.»

His movies focus on the relationships between people and the world they inhabit, and the growing modernity, and also capitalism, of it. «As you’ll quickly come to see, Ozu is hardly a fan of modernity. In films like The Only Son, Late Spring, Late Autumn, and An Autumn Afternoon, he suggests, among other things, that economic modernization has engendered inequality, feelings of alienation, empty consumerism, and the Americanization of Japanese life.» Those feelings of alienation that we currently feel toward our own lives, our own time and our own time are very relevant for us in 2020. While I do think that those movies represent a certain time and a certain context, and you cannot talk about Yasujiro Ozu without really contextualizing both him and his work, I think it can be really relevant to today. Ozu made movies for himself and for the society he lived in but that doesn't mean that those movies can’t still be important today.

Ozu did impact international cinema, as can be seen for exemple with the movies of Wes Anderson, as seen in this visual essay that compares their body of work. both narratively and stylistically. I won’t go into more details about Anderson here, because he is one of my favorite directors and i hope to write an entire article on him soon, but i thought it was relevant to mention this. Most importantly, Yasujiro Ozu left an imprint on japanese cinema that can still be seen to this day in contemporary movies. I could mention filmmakers such as Naoko Ogigami, with movies such as Rent-a-cat (2012), Close-Knit (2017) and Kamome Diner (2006), all movies that have a decidedly slower pace and kinder vibe to them. Hayao Miyazaki and the movies Studio Ghibli produced also are an example of that slower cinema, but we’ll touch upon this a bit further down the line.

(rent-a-cat [2012] d. Naoko Ogigami)

a little world of our own

With this in mind, it’s easy to see that there’s a sub-genre of japanese cinema that really make a concerted effort at incorporating the concepts of slowness in their stories, whether it's the slower pace of the story or actual slow living principles. Those movies often address the fantasy of leaving everything behind (your work, your problems, your issues, your sadness) to go live in a small town or quitting your job to follow your dreams, or simply to feel like your time is yours again. This list on letterboxd which showcases many movies of that genre in japanese cinema (currently 157 movies on date of writing this article)

A good example of this type of stories would be the duology of the Little Forest movies, as well as the subsequent korean adaptation in 2018. These movies were both adapted originally from a manga by Daisuke Igarashi. Little Forest : Summer/Autumn (2014) and Little Forest : Winter/Spring (2015) follow the story of a young woman who leaves her busy city life to go back to her hometown and decides to live in a slower way, taking care of her vegetables and living according to the seasons. The two movies are infinitely slow, focusing on the main character cooking, resting, eating, and eventually resolving the conflict that she has with her mother. The life she lives in these secluded parts seems uneventful but happy and calm which seems all that she desires. She doesn’t need to contribute to the capitalist system of society to be deserving of being able to live in peace, and this makes her feel less alienated from the world she lives in.

Spirited away

I also don’t think it’s really possible to mention slower moments of everyday life in cinema without talking about the movies that probably were the first introduction to this for many of us. The movies of Studio Ghibli, with Hayao Miyazaki at the helm of it, are little masterpieces of animation. The movies are intended for a younger audience but can be appreciated by everyone. Studio Ghibli movies are another example of filmmaking that manages to capture this slower pace in media. Between all of the adventures and events that are happening in those movies, there are moments of slowness. Of calm. Of quietness.

As Robert Ebert told to Miyazaki, during an interview with him « I told Miyazaki I love the "gratuitous motion" in his films; instead of every movement being dictated by the story, sometimes people will just sit for a moment, or they will sigh, or look in a running stream, or do something extra, not to advance the story but only to give the sense of time and place and who they are.» Miyazaki proceeded to explain what this concept was for him «"We have a word for that in Japanese," he said. "It's called ma. Emptiness. It's there intentionally."» Those slow moments between the action are very deliberate, to slow down the story and to slow down the pace. Contrary to the generally accepted school of thought in modern Hollywood cinema, which is that every single scene needs to move the story forward, Miyazaki lets his story and movies breathe. This way of building the story gives it an added sense of calm and soothingness, but also it gives it another sense of realism. Instead of following a strict narrative outline, this fluidity makes the story feel more real and relatable.

Despite being an animated movie set in a very obviously fantastical universe, Studio Ghibli movies tend to be very realistic in the way they portray the characters, their complexity, and also what are the real underlying conflicts. For example, in Kiki’s Delivery Service (1989) «The primary conflict isn’t about magic—it’s internal and invisible and wholly human: Kiki’s brief period of lost motivation and artist’s block. She gets it back when she wants to help Tombo, whom she loves. Simple as that. She doesn’t have to wage an epic battle to prove her worth» The stakes might seem lower in this movie, very mundane and ordinary but I think this is what makes it so special.

The quiet moments and details that might seem innocuous and useless at first and slower the pace of the movie in itself, are ultimately what gives it this feeling of genuineness. It lets the characters and the plot have the space to evolve and to grow.

« Although these scenes may seem slow or unimportant, they give space to develop the characters and to heighten dreams or feelings the characters are having such as feelings of isolation, wonder, or anxiety. It is in these moments of stillness that the audience can contemplate with the characters and feel what the characters are feeling. These moments remind the audience the importance of stillness in such a fast paced world and highlights the beauty of a slower paced life»

Studio Ghibli movies insert those slower moments in between more faster paced and action packed scenes but also in the midst of world-changing events such as wars, as shown in Howl’s Moving Castle (2004). This demonstrate how people still live on during those crises, even with the danger looming over their heads. Which is something that I think can be very relevant in today’s time where the past twenty years have been increasingly more unstable and the … few months of 2020 were a Shit Show in itself, if you want my opinion. So this kind of media gives me hope that we can live through this, that moments of happiness and peace are still to be found.

A charmed life

Slower cinema is something that has existed for as long as cinema existed, but I do think that it’s a very current feeling to want to be able to slow down the pace of our lives, and be able to enjoy time in a more meaningful way. Personally, I know life has gotten ridiculously hectic for me in the past two years, and while there’s a lot I always want to be doing and I’m very happy about how my life is coming together, this doesn’t mean that sometimes, it doesn’t feel Very Overwhelming and alienating to constantly feel the need to be productive. What we can bring to the capitalist system isn’t what determine the worth and value of who we are as people. «"As speed is seemingly equated with efficiency and professionalism, however, slowness can become a way of signaling an alternative set of values or a refusal to privilege the workplace over other domains of life.”» I hope to be able to live my life on my own term and to be able to spend time on things that are important to me and feel like my time is my own.

Slow media is everywhere lately, whether it’s in cinema, books, games, but also in a more broader sense with the slow life movements, the minimalist trends, but also a general awareness of sustainability, the amount of mass production and mass consumerism in our modern world.

In order to sustain that fast pace of constant production of things, you inevitably have to sacrifice on either the quality of the product, the work conditions or on the materials in order to be able to keep up with the extremely high rhythm sustained by capitalism. It can also be compared to the fast work pace imposed on people who work on the sets of movies or video games for example. I think we all heard of the debacle with the Sonic (2020) movie as well as Cats (2019) and the pressure that was put upon the vfx artists to re-do the movie and complete it extremely fast, which brought poor working conditions on them.

Slowing down is, in my opinion, of the utmost importance for us to be able to live better, but also to be able to do better things. To have better working conditions, to be able to have a better craftsmanship, people having more time to do things and do them better instead of scrambling to constantly catch up to a production rhythm that is just simply way too fast. This ties in with the environmental aspect of slowing down, because if you take more time to make things that are of a better quality and that will last for a long time, there won’t be such a need for a constant production of those things but unfortunately that’s capitalism Babey.

a quiet respite

Ultimately, the act of slowing down and taking a stand against the fast pace imposed on us by the constraints of capitalism is a very personal one, but I think it's worth considering. And when it’s not possible to actually slow down, I hope those movies and these slower medias can give you a respite even if life isn’t giving you much of one. I do think that having the opportunity to meaningfully slow down the pace of your life, and taking the time to think, breathe, and reconnect with the more mundane parts of your life can be beneficial, especially when there’s a constant pressure to perform and to excel in this fast-paced modern life.

I just hope we can try to take care of ourselves deeply, connect with ourselves but also with each other. We need time to feel, breathe and actually live and not just beat to the drum of a corporation and of this sadistic capitalist system who will never care for you. Corporations do not want you to slow down and they want to get your money by any means necessary, which we have obviously witnessed a lot during this Global Pandemic. Which is why I think there's a real pushback against this fast pace of life and the mass consumerism, by slowing down,

On this note, i hope you appreciated the article, i hope you are taking care of yourself during those hard times and i hope the media you are consuming is something that makes you feel better, and i hope you don't put too much pressure on yourself.

please just breathe. hopefully it will be okay.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Slow Life & Slow Cinema :

Matthew Flanagan. 'Slow Cinema': Temporality and Style in Contemporary Art and Experimental Film. University of Exeter as a thesis for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in English in October 2012.

ZEESTRATEN, J. Strolling to the beat of another drum: Living the ‘Slow Life’, Master’s Thesis, Lincoln University, 2008. <https://pdfs.semanticscholar.org/e0c6/f533e7d8f9254eddbadc0fe6dbb7d4a5ea8c.pdf >

SCREENING BOREDOM THE HISTORY AND AESTHETICS OF SLOW CINEMA Orhan Emre Çağlayan. A Thesis submitted for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in Film Studies University of Kent February 2014

ELSON, Logan. Slow Cinema Modality: Applying Bordwell to Tsai Ming-Liang, Trent University, JUST, Vol. V, No. 1, 2017

LAVIN, Mathias. Prolonger Ozu, avec Kiarostami, Akerman, Hong Sang-Soo.

FLANAGAN, Matthew. Towards an Aesthetic of Slow in Contemporary Cinema, 16:9, 2020 <http://www.16-9.dk/2008-11/side11_inenglish.htm>

RASSOS, Effie. Everyday Narratives Reconsidering Filmic Temporality and Spectatorial Affect through the Quotidian, A Thesis Submitted in Fulfilment of the Requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy School of Media, Film and Theatre University of New South Wales August 2005

LETTERBOXD. The Absolute Beauty in Everyday’s Mundanity. Hungkat, 2020. <https://letterboxd.com/kun/list/the-absolute-beauty-in-everydays-mundanity/>

LETTERBOXD. A Slice of Japanese Life. Seraphimjc, 2020. <https://letterboxd.com/seraphimjc/list/a-slice-of-japanese-life>/

Enchanted April:

BOLLARD, Jennifer Jane. The Felicitous Space of Elizabeth von Arnim, Master’s Thesis, University of Canterbury Christchurch, New Zealand, 1995 , <https://ir.canterbury.ac.nz/bitstream/handle/10092/11887/Bollard_thesis.pdf;sequence=>

VON ARNIM, Elizabeth. Enchanted April, Waking Lion Press, 2008 (first published 1922)

YOUNG, Katie Elizabeth. More than "Wisteria and Sunshine": The Garden as a Space of Female Introspection and Identity in Elizabeth von Arnim' s The Enchanted April and Vera, Master’s Thesis. Brigham Young University, 2011. < https://scholarsarchive.byu.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=4032&context=etd>

Yasujiro Ozu:

The Cinema Cartography, Yasujirō Ozu - The Depth of Simplicity, Youtube video, 2015 <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2G7oeyOsfSg>

JOO, Woojeong, The flavour of tofu : Ozu, history and the representation of the everyday. PhD thesis, University of Warwick, 2011.

BETH, Suzanne. Destruction, puissance et limites du cinéma dans les films d'Ozu Yasujirô, Doctorate Thesis, Université de Montréal, 2015. <https://papyrus.bib.umontreal.ca/xmlui/bitstream/handle/1866/13600/Beth_Suzanne_2015_these.pdf?sequence=2&isAllowed=y>

EMERSON, Andrew. The Beginner’s Guide: Yasujiro Ozu, Director, The Film Inquiry, 2019

<https://www.filminquiry.com/beginners-guide-yasujiro-ozu/>

Criterion. The Signature Style of Yasujiro Ozu. On film. 2015 <https://www.criterion.com/current/posts/3836-the-signature-style-of-yasujiro-ozu>

Thompson, pp. 19-20, 327-331; David Bordwell, Ozu and the Poetics of Cinema (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1988), pp. 73-74.

CATLEY, Anna. Wes Anderson & Yasujiro Ozu: A Visual Essay, Youtube, 2015. <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rbXRpiVO1po >

Little Forest:

SREEKANDAN, Nikhil , Little Forest: Film Review , The Inkline, 2018. <https://the-inkline.com/2018/06/17/little-forest-film-review/>

https://snackfever.com/blogs/magazine/a-refreshing-cool-breeze-found-in-the-little-forest

Studio Ghibli:

EBERT, Robert. Hayao Miyazaki interview. 2002. <https://www.rogerebert.com/interviews/hayao-miyazaki-interview>

The Magic and Artistry of Studio Ghibli’s Films, The Artifice, 2017 <https://the-artifice.com/magic-artistry-studio-ghibli-films/>

JAREMKO-GREENWOLD, Anya. The Low-Stakes Pleasure of Kiki’s Delivery’s Service. on Birth, Movies, Death, 2017. <birthmoviesdeath.com/2017/07/18/the-low-stakes-pleasure-of-kikis-delivery-service>

STEY, George Andrew.. Elements of Realism in Japanese Animation, Master’s Thesis, University of Ohio, 2009. <https://etd.ohiolink.edu/!etd.send_file?accession=osu1250700496&disposition=inline>

Cottagecore:

SKELLEY, Jemima. Cottagecore Is the Soothing Online Aesthetic We All Need Right Now, The Latch, 2020. <https://thelatch.com.au/cottagecore-aesthetic/>

HAASCH, Palmer. People online are flocking to 'cottagecore,' an online aesthetic that idealizes agricultural life, to calm their hyper-stimulated nerves, The Insider, 2020. <https://www.insider.com/cottagecore-isolation-aesthetic-tumblr-explained-social-distancing-2020-4>

SLONE, Isabel. Escape Into Cottagecore, Calming Ethos for Our Febrile Moment, New York Times, 2020. < https://www.nytimes.com/2020/03/10/style/cottagecore.html>

animal crossing:

VINCENT, Britanny. Find fulfillment in Animal Crossing New Horizons' slice-of-life gameplay, CNN underscored., 2020https://www.cnn.com/2020/03/30/cnn-underscored/animal-crossing-new-horizons-review/index.html

WEBSTER, Andrew. ANIMAL CROSSING: NEW HORIZONS IS A CHILL, CHARMING LIFE SIM THAT PUTS YOU IN CONTROL, The Verge, 2020. <https://www.theverge.com/2020/3/16/21179238/animal-crossing-new-horizons-review-nintendo-switch-features>

#slow living #cottagecore #slowness in cinema #cinema #film

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segenassefa · 4 years

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3. A Semi-Original List of Things To Do During Quarantine

Niggas all over the timelines are baking banana bread, doing headstands, and making Tik Toks. Yeah it was fun the first few weeks – but now we’re almost four months deep into quarantine and the gworls need some change! A bit of variety. Some pizazz, if you will.

Well, fear not!

I am here to help (as per usual). Digging into the depths of my chicken breast-like brain has been hard, but I’ve done it to compile a list of things to try now that quarantine is dragging along. Some of these you’ve definitely heard before (but they were so good, it was worth mentioning again), some of these you may have considered but never really saw the value in, and some of these seem like I pulled them out of my ass, but I promise, they’re a fun time and definitely worth the try.

Take up a new workout routine now that gyms will probably cease to exist.

I can’t even speak on this one (my record this quarantine has been four days without leaving my bed), but health comes in different forms. Even back in the early stages, one of my favourite things to do was get a coffee and aimlessly walk around downtown – it got me out of the house, it didn’t feel like exercise, and was an excuse to take advantage of the warm weather. Exercise is both important for physical as well as mental health, as cited by a million and one studies, and can break up the monotonous cycles of online shopping, self-loathing, and eating that everyone seems to be trapped in these days. Your options, however, go beyond yoga and walking. Buy some weights or use one of the jars of canned tomatoes you have sitting your pantry (…) and do a weight routine. Go for a run. Climb some stairs. Bring back step aerobics like the bad bitches from the 80s. Ride a bike (Queen’s Quay is really nice, and pretty empty on the weekdays). The other benefit to establishing a good routine now is that you can carry it out through the winter. Maybe not the bike riding part, but you get my point.

Socialize (safely).

I never understood the obsession with patios until I went to El Jefe a few weeks ago, and it got me thinking about how fun that actually must be when everyone isn’t terrified of getting a virus from the person eating chips and guac two tables over. But! There are alternatives! I know you don’t believe me but there are! Toronto has more parks and green spaces than you’d think, and now is the perfect time to take advantage of them. Connect with nature, friends, and socializing in an environmentally friendly space (throw those White Claw cans in the trash, please) and you and your friends will literally be the peak of ecofeminism. If you’re tired of wearing your crop tops and lashes to the grocery store, picnics and beach days also give you a reason to look cute in public again (and with a mask, you don’t even have to put foundation on the bottom half of your face. #win). Some of my favourite places include Trinity-Bellwood Park and Woodbine Beach. If you have a car (or a lot of patience) Scarborough Bluffs is also definitely worth the commute. I think it’s a game changer that “going out” now means sitting in the grass making small talk, instead of getting hammered in some dark, damp club, but maybe it’s also improvement.

Clear out the clutter that you always tell yourself you’re too busy for.

I know you see it, bitch. That box of clothes overflowing in the back of your closets. Or the basket of random hair ties, scraps of paper, and pen caps on your shelf. What about when you open social media – Instagram, Twitter, Snapchat, whatever – a see all these random people on your feed that you don’t remember following, much less ever meeting in real life. Quarantine has forced us to retreat to our own spaces, physically, mentally and emotionally, and now more than ever is the best time to reflect and take inventory of what brings you joy and (God forbid we’re in this situation again) what you’d be ok with surrounding yourself with 24/7. It may be hard – times of crisis especially encourage a scarcity mindset instead of an abundance one – but it doesn’t hurt to try and reframe your thinking!

The 3 Restaurant Rule

If you’re anything like me, then you love Uber Eats. Since this virus has stripped the joy of going out to eat from my small and soft hands, we’ve had to find ways to work around this. One of these compromises has been Uber Eats. But that, much like anything else in life, can soon get repetitive (and niggas were clowning me for actually enjoying Swiss Chalet. Fuck y’all.) So, I established some ground rules, one of which being the three-restaurant rule. Do I follow it all the time? No. But knowing that it exists had made trying new foods more like a game. Here’s what you do:

1. First, pick a type of cuisine (I’m partial to sushi, so we’re going to use that for this example).

2. Next, really study Uber Eats. Find the best restaurants in your area specializing in that kind of food and pick three restaurants that look the best to you. Another alternative (especially if you’re lucky enough to live downtown where a majority of restaurants are doing take out) would be to curate a list of places on Yelp! I loved doing this when outside was open – it made eating out feel a bit more purposeful, almost like it was for research).

3. Then, keep a lil list – on your phone, on paper, in your camera roll - wherever. When you’re not in the mood to cook, consult the list, and don’t pick a restaurant twice in a row. Start building up a list of places that you can say you’ve tried. Keep tabs on how you felt about the food to compare it to in-person dining when restaurants re-open, or make it an event with friends. Dress up, get together, crack a bottle of wine (or some beers, or sake, ya know – whatever floats your boat) and make it an event.

The other upside to this is now when people ask me for recommendations, I can give them with confidence instead of bullshitting like I would have before (sorry y’all LOL).

Learn how to do your own personal upkeep.

It would probably take me ten hands and feet to count the number of videos I’ve seen of nail salons throwing customers out for being black or on the prejudice of race and/or class, or the number of hair salons and stylists who charge extra fees for thickness, length (or lack thereof), or for specific styles and modifications, etc. If you knew me, you know I was devoted to my nail salon. I loved the feeling of getting a full set of acrylics, having all the work done for me, the little burn on my cuticles when they’d slide my hands under the UV light. But in quarantine, a lot of things happened – nail salons closed, I became unemployed, and suddenly, $60 manicures every two weeks were not realistic. YouTube has so many videos on how to do basic self-care - things like cutting or dyeing or braiding your own hair, doing your own nails (whether it be acrylic, gel, even a basic polish manicure), doing your own eyebrows – the possibilities are all there. And, if you get good enough – you can always go ahead and make it your own side hustle (with salons operating at half capacity, the demand for people that do house calls is rapidly increasing). I’ve recently swapped my acrylics for press on nails and let me tell you – game changer. They last just as long, look just as good, and allow me the freedom of talon-like nails without having my bank account scream at me (a post on how I do my faux-acrylics at home coming soon!)

Try to watch something that isn’t reality television.

I know 90 Day Fiancee is that GIRL. And if you’re like me, you tend to get very sucked into YouTuber mukbang drama as well (if anyone wants to discuss Nikocado Avocado with me, I am more than willing). But after a while, it gets kind of repetitive, and there’s no harm in educating yourself on other topics. Netflix, Amazon Prime Video, Hulu, even YouTube all have so many documentaries on a variety of topics – from crime, to health, to cults – there’s literally something for everyone. Plus, there’s something really self-satisfying about learning something on your own. If you need a place to start, my personal favourite is Bikram (Netflix) and any of the Vice documentaries on YouTube, but there are so many, so browse around and find one that suits your personal taste.

There are also many documentaries on environmentalism and the Black existence/experience/life in America and globally. Considering all the things that are going on right now, it would be wise to educate oneself, especially when the tools for doing so are a few clicks away. My personal favourites are 13 and Who Shot the Sherriff, but there’s so many that you don’t have an excuse not to at least learn SOMETHING.

Severe ties and blame it on the pandemic.

This one is pretty self-explanatory. Maybe there’s the persistent wanna-be friend who you tried to avoid in your Thursday 11-1 lecture and would incessantly text you for notes. Or the creepy guy who would always be in your study spot in Deerfield and message you after with the dumbass eye emojis. Maybe it’s that one friend you used to call to console you of your issues, but by the end of the chat you felt more unnerved than understood. Whomever it is, don’t be afraid to stray away a bit and use the excuse of social distance or “getting your head together” to gradually give yourself some space and make things a bit obvious without having to be a total asshole. It can help, tbh, and the last thing you need in a time like this is to feel guilty for someone else’s feelings.

Be ok with doing nothing.

Life is always on some go,go,go shit. With people posting all those fucking memes about hustling or whatever, it can be easy to feel like you’re sitting in quarantine wasting your life away because you haven’t joined Forex, or OnlyFans, or started three side businesses, or taught yourself a new language or whatever. But listen – look at quarantine like a break. You had a nice long break to re-cooperate and self-indulge a lil bit and you know what? That’s ok! You’re not less of a person because you chose to rest or hang out in bed more than you should have. Don’t let other people’s progress (or lack thereof) be a measure of your own. How can you expect to bounce back after a GLOBAL PANDEMIC if you spent the entire time beating yourself up for not living up to other people’s idea of success? …Exactly. This list is just for fun and personal growth, but realistically, quarantine is for doing whatever the fuck you want (safely and sanely, of course), but literally look at this time off as God, Allah, Buddha, whomever, pumping the brakes on what is a normally hectic life. Slow down, enjoy the small things (ALL the small things), and allow yourself to be what you are – a human being, not a fucking machine.

#cashmoneysegs #blog post 3 #quaratine #i'm losing my mind

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tvntae · 6 years

Text

heartbreak hotel 1

pairing: reader x ceo!jeon jungkook

plot: was sleeping with your boss really such a great idea?

genre: smut (eventual), angst, fluff

word count: 3.3k

You loved your new job, you really did but the days just seemed to drag on. You were kinda ready for new scenery, a load of fresh faces and just some newer air to breath in general. You wanted, no needed more creative freedom. You felt stuck, and you knew there wasn’t anything you could actually do about it. Unless you go to him. Now “him” was your boss, Jeon Jungkook. You hated asking him for things because he seemed so scary. He was quite sweet, funny and even a little charming. But he intimated the living hell out of you, and you’ve never been able to pinpoint why. Maybe it was because of the look on his face during those redundant teamwork building exercise meetings that were held every 2 months. He seemed to despise them more than anyone else. To you, he was the big bad boss even though around here he was crucial and level-headed.

At least, that’s what you heard about him. Rumors must have been that mans last name because people loved to talk, and when you say to talk you mean gossip. Employees would either be discussing Mr.Jeon’s newest ride or the latest girl he’s screwing. Word got around that he was dating some new model on the scene, not that you really cared or anything, but last night Karen, the older lady who’s cubicle is to the left of yours, just wouldn’t stop yapping on and on about it.

“Did you hear about Jeon’s new girlfriend?” She squealed over the phone, entirely too enthusiastic over something that had absolutely nothing to do with her. You could barely get work done because of your unintentional eavesdropping. Seriously, it’s not like you actually cared or anything about Jungkook’s life it just... you know Karen and her very loud very exaggerated story over the phone with Suzie, that works a floor above you in HR were taking your attention away from all your important work.

That very night you went home you let your curiosity get the best of you, and you decided to do a little bit of researching your self.

Your laptop was filled with tab after tab after tab of articles about Jeon Jungkook. Things about his childhood, his family even his surprisingly healthy lifestyle. You didn’t know much of the guy, other than he was your boss and he was only a few years older than you. Oh, and also those ridiculous fables people made up about him, but other than that you didn’t really know him, know him. No one did, really now that you think about it. He tended to stay in his office most days, and he rarely came to the company parties, not that you were invited to them for you to obtain such knowledge, you just heard it from Soyeon and Erika from the sales department during lunch break a week back. You knew you shouldn’t have been listening to their private conversation but it wasn’t actually your fault, it just so happened that they were talking about that particular thing while you had paused your music to text your mom back.

You looked over at your clock on your computer and saw just how late it was. Almost 3 and a half hours had passed while you were snooping on your bosses life and you hadn’t even eaten yet. You opted out on cooking, even though in that article you just read about Jungkook’s healthy lifestyle said he always cooks his meals, you decided on ordering out instead. You didn’t have the luxury of making home-cooked meals every night and mostly ate out to suffice. With the salary you have, you do a lot more saving and budgeting than big baller spending. It’s hard enough to afford a place in Seoul, imagine how broke you would go if you started buying real groceries. Fast food was convenient, and it takes a lot less time to arrive at your doorstep than if you were to make a meal.

As you placed your order, you started to wonder if Jungkook was the type of guy to like a girl who could cook. With the luxurious and lavish lifestyle he lives, or at least what the way the tabloids paint his way of living, he’d surely be the type of guy to like a woman who enjoyed cooking for her man. You weren’t really that much of a cooker, a baker yes, but cooking wasn’t your forte. You could bake up a mean batch of chocolate brownies, or if you were in the mood you liked to bake apple pies but cooking actual dinner? Uh, that wasn’t a trait you could say you have.

Once your food arrived, you decided it was time to watch the local news. It was always something you did back home. You’d order some food and then flip to the news channel to hear the current events of the world. Old habits never die.

Oddly enough Jungkook and his new girlfriend were being featured. Typically, when the company you worked for was on the news Jungkook name was rarely ever mentioned just for the sake of not drawing attention to his name you’d guess. Nochu was notably known as a great company. Most people didn’t really know that such a young guy was behind such a successful business. Frequently, in cases you’ve seen young CEOs, mostly it’s because it’s a business that was handed down to them from their wealthy fathers and grandfathers. But that wasn’t the case for Jeon Jungkook. No, he started Nochu from the ground up, hustled his ass off even before college just to create a name for himself. You had a lot of respect for the guy. You didn’t see him much, but he was diffidently a diligent man. If you ever have the chance (and the balls), you’d try to conversate more with him. Get to know him as your boss, not really on a personal level but more as colleagues.

If the news was anything to go by tonight, apparently Jungkook and his girlfriend were engaged. When you were doing your research about him a few hours prior there weren’t any mentionings of engagement nor was there any clear pictures of Jungkook with said, fiance. But the news seems to have evident photos of the couple together. And you were utterly blown away by the two. They were stunning together, hell, she was stunning alone. But together they looked so dominant.

“The nations couple” was what everyone was calling them on Twitter. Honestly, you could see why. They’re perfect for each other, and they looked so content. You were sorta jealous, not because you had a crush on your boss or anything. I mean yeah, he is very handsome and the mysterious type. You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t your type. But it’s really the simple fact that you hadn’t been in a relationship for what felt like 15 years. Your last boyfriend was everything you ever needed, or at least that’s what you had thought. Once he got a job offer in another city, he dropped you so quickly and left without another word. So you being you, you ended up on the other side of the planet in Seoul to finish college and start an internship soon after.

Your internship lasted for about 3 years and then you were offered a position at Nochu Corp. You thought you would be working for some old fat guy in his mid to late sixties. So to say you were stunned by Jungkook’s age and his smooth looking face was an understatement. You knew he could tell how flustered you were that day you accidentally ran into him with your high stack of papers. You were so sure he’d fire you on the spot, but he even offered to help you clean them up. He helped you that day, pick up all your papers, and you were so nervous you left without thanking him properly. To this day you’re still pissed that you made such a fool of yourself.

The morning dragged by slower than ever today at work, you were so ready to get out of the building and get home to your warm bed. Your uncomfortable office chair was starting to get old, you figured it’s never been replaced, and it’s been sitting at this particular desk for years. It often makes your back cramp up and spasm, and it indeed is a pain in the ass (like literally, it even hurts your butt to sit too long).

From the corner of your eye, you could see your department manager, Jiwoo come into focus. You start to pray that she doesn’t hand you another task for today and instead hands it off to someone else less fortunate. You could not bear to stay sitting at this desk for any longer.

“Hey, Y/n, how ya been?” Jiwoo asks you, a little too enthusiastically might you add. You could already tell you were a) In trouble or b) she was going to ask for you to complete another task for tonight. And God was you praying it wasn’t the latter.

“I’m doing good Mrs.Choi, how are you today?” You maintained a smile through gritted teeth, trying to stay as positive as can be. Maybe, just maybe it was an audit and nothing too serious today. You had a drama to catch up on today, and you could NOT afford to stay any longer than usual.

“I’m doing just fine, I was wondering,” here we fucking go, you think, “Youngjae called out sick for the week and we don’t have anyone to process the stats from this week and last well I need you to stay, maybe about I don’t know 3 hours after your scheduled time today.” The fucking bitch.

“But I-” you start, but Jiwoo soon cuts you off before you could protest.

“This isn’t a yes or no question Mrs.Y/n, I need coverage and your my only available person tonight. I know I can count on you. I’ll email everything that needs to be printed, copied and signed before I go and leave the papers on my desk, I’ll leave you my keys to open the copy room and, make sure you leave said keys with the papers you deliver. Have a nice night Mrs.Y/n.” And with that Jiwoo hands you her office keys and takes her leave, well not before giving you a hideous tight lip smile.

You truly hated that old hag. Out of all the employees she has in this department she chooses to always pick on you.

Night rolled by a lot faster than the afternoon, and you were finally able to stand up and stretch. Letting out a yell, since no one else was on this floor for the night you start doing the stretching exercises you learned from Youtube. The forward hang stretch would always be your favorite one. Anyways on to more important task, you grab Jiwoo’s keys and head to the elevator, since your department didn’t have a copy room you had to use the one a few floors above.

The empty hallway to the room was dead silent and even a little creepy, you know most people here tended not to stay too late, yourself included. You hated this place sometimes, it was cold, dark and scary at night. And you always felt lonely here when you stayed overnight.

Switching on the copy room lights, you mentally thank God that someone left the computer logged in because, for the life of you, you could never remember any of the passwords.

You logged into your email, quickly, 3 hours after your ass. You were going to print these papers, sign them off and put them in Jiwoo’s stupid office on her big stupid desk. Oh, and along with her dumb stupid office keys.

You were about 3 papers signed in when you heard a voice coming from down the hall. Your first instinct told you it was the custodial crew, so you brushed it off.

“Yes babe, I’ll be home tonight don’t worry about it... Yes... Yes... Wait, I thought I turned those lights off, guess not, but yea see you soon, love you, k bye.”

“Oh. So it was you who has these lights on.” Too focused on signing you didn’t register anyone walking into the copy room. You nervously spin yourself around in your chair and get up to bow, but he motions his hand telling you it wasn’t necessary.

“How are you Y/n?”

“I am doing well sir, how are you tonight?”

“Same. Same. Choi has you working late tonight I see, you don’t normally stay this late.” He says as he squeezes past you to get to the small printer. You smile and nod as your response as he passes you. The room was cramped. There was one huge sectional desk that held all 3 computers, and on one side, a small printer on the other and then the copy machines were right next to the desk. For it to be such a big building, this room had to be the smallest one you’ve ever seen. You turn your chair back around to finish signing your papers, the only sound that was heard throughout the room was Jungkook printing papers and your swiftness with the pen as you signed. You rustle a few papers around, trying your best to not look like such an unorganized slob in front of your boss.

It ended up taking your 2 whole hours to finish printing, copying and signing all 300 something papers. Jungkook had stayed in the copy room the entire time, mostly going through his email and answering texts. Wasn’t like you were snooping or anything, you were just surprised that man could type and text so damn fast.

Jungkook looks at his wrist for the time on his watch. “You take the bus to and from work, correct?” Jungkook turns his chair to his left to face you.

“Uh, yes sir, why?” You ask, bemused that he was asking such a personal question.

“Well, it’s late, and the last bus just ran 5 minutes ago, so I’ll be taking you home unless you have a ride tonight?” He raises his eyebrows. Jungkook knew you were new to the city and didn’t have many friends here let alone family. He only asked to see if you’d lie to him.

“That’s very kind of you sir, but you don’t have to-”

What was it with these people in higher positions cutting you off.

“I wasn’t really asking, it’s late, and I know for a fact you shouldn’t be walking this late, so I’ll be your ride tonight. Clean up, pack your things and I’ll be waiting for you outside of the building in the black Audi.” He starts to grab his things and leave, sending you a sweet smile before exiting the room.

It took you a second to process what just happened. Jungkook barely said 7 words to you when he first came into the room and then all of a sudden he’s offering to take you home? What parallel universe is this? For all he knew you could be a serial killer, hell he could be one. You were his next prey, and you didn’t even have a say in anything because he’s your boss.

Calming down your fast-beating heart, you pack up your papers and make your way to your department to drop everything all off.

The inside of Jungkook’s car smelled terrific. Like pineapples and bananas but also with a hint of mint candy. It was strange but also quite pleasant at the same time. You heard around the office that he likes sweet smelling things. Opting to buy women’s perfume rather than men’s cologne. You had absolutely no problem with that at all. It just showed Jungkook cared a lot about hygiene. Which is why you’d rarely see any blemish or imperfections to his skin.

“You know today was casual Friday, right”? Jungkook ask you while still keeping his eyes on the road.

“Wait, seriously we have those? No one’s ever told me.” To say you were disappointed was an understatement, you loved causal days, and you never even knew they existed there.

You frown at the thought of it.

Jungkook looks over to see the pout gracing your face, cute, he laughs to himself. “Yes, we have them a few times out of each month. There’s a lot we do there that Choi probably won’t tell you. It’s not as boring as you think it is.”

“I don’t think it’s boring.”

“Sure,” he draws out.”I can tell when someone is bored and you, Mrs.Y/n, are most definitely bored.”

You laugh at that, “Maybe you’re right.”

Jungkook turns up the music to the radio and you two ride comfortably together. It felt weird but also right at the same time. You felt cozy and warm with him.

You had dozed off about 10 minutes ago, It was a great thing Jungkook looked at your file for your address because you were in a pretty deep sleep. He honestly did not mind that you lived about 20 minutes away. It wasn’t that big of a deal to him. He could feel his phone blowing up with text after text from Jinah, his fiance. He’d just make up a little white lie and tell her he stayed an extra hour at the office. It wouldn’t kill her if he omitted the truth. He didn’t need her jealous rants, not right now, he was too tired.

You could feel Jungkook’s car coming to a stop. You knew it was time to wake up and in head inside your place when he nudged you awake.

“Hey, we’re here.” He tells you. You slowly lift yourself up, unbuckling your seatbelt and spreading your arms to stretch.

“Thank you so much for this Mr.Jeon, I’m sorry I fell asleep here.” You awkwardly smile.

He waves you off telling you it was indeed no problem.

“Just before you go Y/n I want to ask you something if that’s fine with you.

“It’s fine sir, go ahead.” You turn to face him. Figuring this must be something important.

“You see, I’ve been looking for a personal secretary for a month now and have been having trouble finding one I can trust. I was wondering if you’d like to be mine? You’d be getting paid more, get your own office but the flip side is you’d have to pick up more days. Is that fine with you?”

Woah, was he seriously asking you to be his right-hand woman? “Sir I-I don’t know what to say,” you were rightly left speechless, you had no secretary training, and he knew that, but he was asking you. You hadn’t even been at his company for very long, and he was already giving you a promotion.

“There's no need for formalities. You don’t have to call me sir or Mr.Jeon, Jungkook will do just fine.” He stifled a laugh.

“So do you accept the offer?”

“Yes, of course, of course! When do I start?”

“How’s tomorrow sound?” He asks.

“That sounds absolutely perfect!”

#bts #bts au #bts scenarios #bts drabbles #bts drabble #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #bts jeon jeongguk #bts jeon jungkook #bts fanfic #bts ceo au #bts jungkook #bangtan #bts reactions #bts x reader angst

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ywiseul-blog · 5 years

Text

hey ! you can call me nox ( they/them, 18+, cst, shooter for bts + girl groups ) & this is my quietly broody son, iseul ! i’m really excited to be here. i love stardew valley & harvest moon a lot so this is a basically a rp dream come true for me ! he’s a baking major & assistant librarian who still doesn’t really understand the farming life, despite living in yangwon for five years now. i’ll work on his bio soon, but for now here’s his stats page & acceptance post which gives a little insight about what kind of person he is. under the cut you’ll find both a list of wanted connections ( mayhaps i’ll make a fleshed out plots page one day ... don’t count on it :/ ). if you want to plot feel free to hit the like button & i’ll fly to your ims immediately. or you can ask for either my discord or twitter if that makes things easier ( it definitely does for me ) !

wanted connections:

exes (any gender is fine. i love ex plots so please! it can be friendly or angsty. also i am willing to have iseul be the issue in the relationship because he can be rather ... prickly)

hookups (whether on a regular basis or an one night stand type thing. but the location would have to be on your muse because iseul still lives with his parents JKHGDFLKJGHD)

hey maybe a plot where our muses are trying to smash and they have to find out that iseul still lives at home? just for the laffs x

flirtationships that don’t go anywhere

probably the one person who immediately made iseul feel comfortable when he first moved here, his ride or die, the best buddy (must have live in yangwon for at least five years)

childhood friends and/or childhood crushes (for people who used to live in seoul)

someone break down his walls he needs to OPEN UP

talk to him about fantasy! world of warcraft? elder scrolls? dnd? he’s here for it

same goes for horror/the paranormal. while he’s a sensible, logical kind of guy he’d definitely be up for any ghost hunting shenanigans!

his cooking class guinea pigs (he’s good at cooking but even he can have his mess ups sometimes)

maybe a sibling type relationship? he’s distant but he’ll be soft with anyone younger than himself. or maybe an older muse wants to curve his serious attitude and treat him like the kid he actually is

a bad influence (he’s a lightweight when it comes to alcohol and also just needs to get out so please)

library regulars (give me overdue book fee comedic plots like your muse trying to flirt their way out of paying or things of that sort. also iseul being a nag about your muse being on the computer for longer than the allowed two hours. or just him ignoring your muse because he’s too wrapped up in whatever podcast he’s listening to. maybe your muse wants podcast recs from him!)

one-sided pining (i don’t mind who has the caught feelings)

mutual pining

enemies?!

maybe some bickering about his pro joja stance

someone he can bond with over former city life and how much they miss it (that sweet 4g, fast wifi speeds, the bright lights or anything else)

maybe a bullying/pranking type plot? he is a cushy rich boy nerd so. always down for him being relentlessly teased!

study buddies? maybe he tutors your muse and he gets to brag about just how much better your muse’s grades have gotten

some simple life-esque plot where your muse is determined to teach iseul about the farming lifestyle and he utterly fails at all of it

yangwon book club?!?!?!?!

anything you might be able to think of FDJKDKHGDSLKGJD

info dump:

his parents are well off and a little uptight but they love iseul and he loves them. he’s one of those overachievers who’d do anything for his parents. and they’re those people who nag out of love and maybe don’t give iseul the full praise he deserves. he doesn’t hold it against them but he definitely yearns for their constant approval

because of this iseul wears a constant image of feigned perfection. around them he is proper and upstanding, though on the inside he’s rather pessimistic and definitely still hurt over being hoisted from seoul and put in this middle of nowhere town

his parents would be shocked to learn that he curses let alone has any sort of negative thoughts about the life he’s been given. they grew tired of the hustle and bustle of seoul and wanted to retire somewhere quieter, but iseul merely longs for it years later. yet he refuses to leave because he wishes to be near them (his loyalty is ridiculous)

is he bitter? oh yeah absolutely. will he ever let anyone become aware of this? NOPE

books have always been a comfort for him and he loves being surrounded by them hence his current job position. it’s not something he wants to do forever (his true love is cooking) but it’s definitely better than the other options in yangwon. the thought of doing physical labor makes him shudder

he does more book collecting than actual reading especially in adulthood since he doesn’t really have the time for it anymore. but he loves getting different editions of his favorite books, like a different press or published in another language. this is usually what he gets for his birthday or other holidays

podcasts are his preferred form of entertainment. he listens to them constantly at work though he’s not supposed to. he’s gotten in trouble a few times for not paying attention closely enough / straight up ignoring customers, but he blames it on being an airhead, which he is absolutely not (insert video compilation of jungkook zoning out here)

if he gets less than eight hours of sleep a night he will just be a zombie all of the next day. and he’s an old man in that he gets sleepy around nine pm every night

he enjoys learning about people and their secrets but he refuses to open up to anyone in the same way

he’s absolutely pro jojamart sorry yangwon nation :/ he won’t keep quiet about it either so good luck getting him to shut up about it

he knows absolutely nothing about farming despite having lived here for a good chunk of time now (he thinks cows are really cute though)

his favorite flavor of anything is birthday cake. if it exists he wants it

he hates coffee (strangely enough though he loves cafes and will gladly hang out in one any time) and mostly lives off water and juice. maybe the occasional glass of wine when he’s feeling frisky

while he’s not the most considerate person he loves showering people he considers himself close to in baked goods for any reason possible

his opinions are black and white. he never stands in the middle on an issue. the only thing he’s not 100% sure of is whether he believes in ghosts or not. he definitely wants to but can’t fully get behind the logic of it

nothing gets on his nerves more than people who keep books for longer than they’ve checked them out for or when they hang out on the computers for longer than two hours. expect a glare if you do either of these things

he gets lonely a lot but he’s too stubborn to do anything about it

he’s absolutely afraid of commitment and having to express deep emotions to someone but he does crave affection (cuddling and kissing mostly) constantly

he likes to gossip about the people who come into the library and he loves to make up little fantasy lives for them because it keeps him from going insane at work

he acts very uptight about everything and loves to seem like he’s never had any kind of fun in his life but show him a cat video and he’ll immediately soften up

he’s a chaotic bi and all beautiful people of any gender makes him flustered but he tries not to show it (this usually fails)

he doesn’t have much dating experience and he’s too embarrassed to use things like tinder

he’s probably too much like his parents, old-fashioned ideals and all but he’s doing his best!

#yw:intro #⊰ 𝙁𝙄𝙇𝙀 ╱ OOC ⊱#/ phew this is so long i am Sorry

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myshunosun · 8 months

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Bake It Up Stand Mixer & Cookbook - Home Chef Hustle SP (#EAPartner)

As promised, here are the new versions of my Bake It Up stand mixer and cookbook that are compatible with the Home Chef Hustle SP (SP is required). The mixer has a slightly different design that works with the new gameplay interactions. I also added new swatches to it to sweeten the deal.

Big thanks to the EA Creator Network for providing me with early access to this pack, and making this prompt item update possible. Check out the original Bake It Up set here.

Download (always free on Patreon) / Follow me on social media

Home Chef Hustle SP required

Stand mixer: 18 tagged swatches, 300§

Cookbook: 4 tagged swatches, 80§

Custom catalog thumbnails

Custom specular and normal maps

New meshes, all LODs

These items do not override the items from my original Bake It Up set. In other words, you can use both versions in your game. You can search for “bake it up" or “myshunosun” in the buy catalog to quickly find these items.

Follow and support me here: Tumblr / Twitter / Patreon / Instagram / CurseForge

@public-ccfinds @s4library @mmfinds @sssvitlanz @maxismatchccworld

#the sims 4 #ts4 #ts4cc #s4cc #the sims 4 home chef hustle #home chef hustle #myshunosun #mycc #s4mm #s4mmcc #maxis match #eapartner #eacreatornetwork #s4 cc #ts4 cc #s4 maxis match #ts4 maxis match #simblr

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localbizlift · 5 years

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300M-user meme site Imgur raises $20M from Coil to pay creators

Meme creators have never gotten their fair share. Remixed and reshared across the web, their jokes props up social networks like Instagram and Twitter that pay back none of their ad revenue to artists and comedians. But 300 million monthly user meme and storytelling app Imgur wants to pioneer a way to pay creators per second that people view their content.

Today Imgur announces that it’s raised a $20 million venture equity round from Coil, a micropayment tool for creators that Imgur has agreed to build into its service. Imgur will eventually launch a premium membership with exclusive features and content reserved for Coil subscribers. Users pay Coil a fixed monthly fee, install its browser extension, the Ripple XRP cryptocurrency is used to route assets around, and then Coil pays creators per second that the subscriber spends consuming their content at a rate of 36 cents per hour. Imgur and Coil will earn a cut too, diversifying the meme network’s revenue beyond ads.

“Imgur began in 2009 as a gift to the internet. Over the last 10 years we’ve built one of the largest, most positive online communities, based on our core value to ‘give more than we take’” says Alan Schaaf, founder and CEO of Imgur. The startup bootstrapped for its first five years before raising a $40 million Series A from Andreessen Horowitz and Reddit. It’s grown into the premier place to browse ‘meme dumps’ of 50+ funny images and GIFs, as well as art, science, and inspirational tales.

While the new round brings in fewer dollars, Schaaf explains that Imgur raised at a valuation that’s “higher than last time. Our investors are happy with the valuation. This is a really exciting strategic partnership.” Coil founder and CEO Stefan Thomas who was formerly the CTO of cryptocurrency company Ripple Labs will join Imgur’s board. Coil received the money it’s investing in Imgur from Ripple Labs’ Xpring Initiative, which aims to fund proliferation of the Ripple XRP ecosystem, though Imgur received US dollars in the funding deal.

Thomas tells me that “There’s no built in business model” as part of the web. Publishers and platforms “either make money with ads or with subscriptions. The problem is that only works when you have huge scale” that can bring along societal problems as we’ve seen with Facebook. Coil will “hopefully offer a third potential business model for the internet and offer a way for creators to get paid.”

Founded last year, Coil’s $5 per month subscription is now in open beta, and it provides extensions for Chrome and Firefox as it tries to get baked into browsers natively. Unlike Patreon where you pick a few creators and choose how much to pay each every month, Coil lets you browse content from as many creators as you want and it pays them appropriately. Sites like Imgur can code in tags to their pages that tell Coil’s Web Monetization API who to send money to.

The challenge for Imgur will be avoiding the cannibalization of its existing content to the detriment of its non-paying users who’ve always known it to be free. “We’re in the business of making the internet better. We do not plan on taking anything away for the community” Schaaf insists. That means it will have to recruit new creators and add bonus features that are reserved for Coil subscribers without making the rest of its 300 million users feel deprived.

It’s surprising thT meme culture hasn’t spawned more dedicated apps. Decade-old Imgur precedes the explosion in popularity of bite-sized internet content. But rather than just host memes like Instagram, Imgur has built its own meme creation tools. If Imgur and Coil can prove users are willing to pay for quick hits of entertainment and creators can be fairly compensated, they could inspire more apps to help content makers turn their passion into a profession…or at least a nice side hustle.

#marketing

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ceruleanmusings · 6 years

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between the lines - 1

pairings: Sweet Pea & OC (note the ampersand), maybe Toni/OC? who knows? It’s up in the air at this point

warnings: None for the intro

summary: She’s a certified geek. He’s a gang member. She wants to pad her college applications. He just wants to piss Reggie off. What was supposed to be simple tutoring sessions teaches Wynn and Sweet Pea more about themselves and each other than they ever could have imagined.

chapter summary: Introducing Wynn Tate, granddaughter of Pop Tate, and her outside, jade-tinted, rascally views within the Town with Pep.

note: So I’ve had this sitting on my computer for a while. It is an expansion off this Sweet Pea/Wynn idea I randomly got. I figured I may as well post it somewhere to see what people think while I ruminate on whether or not to continue. This starts right when the Southside Serpents get transferred to Riverdale High but after that it doesn’t follow the show plot, the rest of this is my own creation. So it’s a bit of a season 2 AU. If you want to know more about my OC, Wynn Tate, you can find out here. Please let me know what you think and if you’d like to be tagged in any possible future additions.

Wynn Tate heard the door to the break room creak open and her body stiffened, the cookie in her hand halfway to her mouth. She knew she wasn’t supposed to be back there, not at a time when the front of the house was so busy, but she couldn’t help it. She could hear her stomach growling over the din of the diners chatting away. What kind of customer service was that? Not the good kind, she’d reasoned to herself, so she slipped away for a second. She hadn’t expected anyone else to come in so soon. And yet here she was—

“Busted!” At the singsong-y trill, Wynn’s shoulders fell, and she stood from her hunched over position, defiantly taking a bite of the forbidden treat. “Now now, even you know we can’t eat on the job, Tate.”

“Oh, stuff it, Sabrina,” Wynn mumbled around the treat, “it’s not my fault you chose to bring these things in when I’m working a double.” She waved the chocolate chip cookie around, bringing attention to it. Her eyelids fluttered shut and she sighed as the treat practically melted into her mouth.

Sabrina grinned. “I had to make my last day special.”

“This is more like rubbing salt in the wound. First you leave me—thanks for that, by the way—and then you do it by bringing your cookies.” Wynn shook her head as she took another bite. “Damn, what’re in these things?”

“Magic,” Sabrina said with a simple shrug.

When Wynn threw a look her way she laughed and waved her off. “Special recipe, that’s all! I can’t give away all my secrets, can I?”

“You know, I can get Pop to buy this recipe. Put the cookies on the menu and give you a cut of course.”

“That’s not going to get me to stay here, you know.” Sabrina walked over to the mirror by the back door and leaned towards it, checking her makeup Wynn supposed. Sabrina had the enigmatic way of always looking put together despite working a double shift. But Wynn wouldn’t complain; Sabrina was one of their best servers by far. “School’s starting up again and it’s a bit of a drive from here to Greendale.”

“Don’t remind me.” Wynn popped the last bit of cookie into her mouth and rubbed excess crumbs off onto her apron. She chewed as she thought to the upcoming semester. The back half of Sophomore year was just around the corner and, after everything that had gone on the previous semester, she had been looking forward to it. They could all now move on and start the new year fresh. But, still, the spark of excitement she once felt had barely covered the niggle of uncertainty that grew in the pit of her stomach. After all, after everything that happened, how could they just go back to being normal? Could they even be normal? “Whatever happened to the days where the world was at our fingertips and we could have whatever we wanted?”

“It dried up when the prospect of getting jobs bloomed on the horizon,” Sabrina replied.

Wynn stuck her tongue out at Sabrina’s reflection which was followed by a teasing smile. “How poetic.”

“Easy for you to say. You just walked into this job. Being the owner’s granddaughter has it’s perks.” Sabrina met Wynn’s eyes in the mirror. She lifted one of her eyebrows, speaking volumes with the one gesture alone.

Wynn brushed a hand against her nose and cleared her throat. No one may say it aloud to her face, but she knew of the undercurrent of disdain that was pointed towards her. She couldn’t help being Pop’s granddaughter as much as she couldn’t help being left handed or topping off at an annoying 5’3”. Perhaps it was a tiny bit easier for her to get a serving position at the diner, but she’d basically grown up within it’s neon embrace, it only made sense for her to work there. Her family built Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe and aided in it thriving for over eighty years. She knew the ins and outs of the diner, better than anyone, and felt pride working within its walls and carrying on the Tate name. That didn’t mean she didn’t work as hard as they did; in fact, it made her work harder. To prove that she could handle the business when it finally was passed down to her. As much as she had built up a wall towards the hearsay, sometimes it found its way through the cracks.

Sabrina clicked her tongue and turned away from the mirror, flashing a smile over at Wynn. Wynn managed a small smile of her own. “I’m just teasing, Wynn. We all know Pop is a fair man.” She sighed, clasping her hands together. “In fact, he’s been more than fair. I’m going to miss working here. Truly.”

“You can always come back on long breaks or the weekends. If you need the extra money, I mean. Pop will have you back on in a heartbeat,” Wynn said.

“I know. But I need to get something in Greendale; commuting all the time is beginning to be a drag. A local soda shop is hiring, I think.”

Letting out an exaggerated gasp, Wynn slapped a hand to her chest. “You traitor!”

Sabrina winked. “Keeps things interesting, doesn’t it?”

“Everything’s interesting when you’re around, Spellman.”

“You’re welcome for that.” Sabrina blew a kiss Wynn’s way and flounced out of the room.

Wynn chuckled, shaking her head, and took up Sabrina’s previous position at the mirror. She fixed her ponytail, smoothed a few of the wrinkles out of her uniform, dotted with a few bits of food and spilled drinks, and snuck a glance at her phone. She swiped aside a few notifications from Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter, checked her podcast statistics, and then went through her texts. She made mental notes to text her mother, Midge, and Valerie back later and, right when she was about to turn off her phone, it buzzed in her hand indicating a new message.

Her lips pressed together into a line and her heart thudded painfully in her chest when she read the contact. She stared down at the name, Reggie Mantle, her thumb hovering over the unopened text. She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and pushed out a shaky breath. It was just another in a list of texts she hadn’t bothered to reply to but this one came after a few weeks of radio silence. She was certain he’d gotten the point by now, understood the firm reasoning behind her silence, but then again this was Reggie. He was aggressive in all aspects of her life. She hummed. She used to like that about him.

The back door burst open again and she hastily shoved her phone back into her pocket as she spotted Grant, the busser, rushing by on his way to the kitchen. He wore a haggard expression on his face that seemed to match the urgency of his footsteps. “There you are! Get back out there, people are waiting!”

“Right, right, sorry. Was just…taking a breather.” Wynn rubbed a hand across her face and hurried out of the backroom, uttering a quick, “Thank you” to Grant as she passed. Not that he knew she was thankful for his appearance or else she would have done something she would regret. Like replying to Reggie’s text. That would’ve been a disaster.

Putting her customer service face back on, Wynn pushed through the employee door and headed straight into the heart of the diner, letting the hustle and bustle and lively atmosphere of the front of house to wash over her. A few people danced to the swing music pouring out of the jukebox, people sitting on the bar stools laughed whilst simultaneously raising glasses in the air, and the booths were packed with her Riverdale High peers, celebrating their last day of freedom with milkshakes as far as the eye can see. Wynn took in the sight for a moment, took in the jubilation and the excitement of one last night of debauchery and tucked it away for later.

“Order up, Wynn,” Pop said from the window. As Wynn approached he lowered his voice and added, “Did you save one for me?”

Panic flashed across Wynn’s face for a second and then she kicked herself. Even so, she did her best to rearrange her facial features as she asked, “Er…save what?” She reached for the serving tray that he held and he backed it away from her reach.

“You know chocolate chip is my favorite,” he continued, winking at her, “and that I have a Cookie Monster for a granddaughter.”

Wynn held up her hands. “Hey, blame Nona for that one. If she didn’t bake so much I might actually have a healthy diet right now. She’s an enabler.”

“Yeah. She was a real spark plug, wasn’t she?” At the wistful sigh that came whistling out of Pop, Wynn’s mouth twisted to the side. This was a forbidden topic, they both knew. It was best to change it now before they both regretted it.

“Don’t worry, I left you the biggest one. I’m sure Sabrina had that one for you in mind,” Wynn said, taking the tray, a sheepish smile appearing on her face. As she turned with the tray she caught Sabrina’s eye as she walked by with a table’s check. Wynn’s smile immediately faded. She probably should have been reprimanded for disappearing off the floor; everyone else would have.

Hefting the tray and balancing it on her palm, she expertly walked through the crowded diner and took it to the back where a few members of the Riverdale High wrestling team had gathered. Judging by the assortment of food she was delivering to them they were taking their pre-season carb load up seriously. In fact, if she remembered correctly, they had a shot at state this year.

“Here ya go, guys. I got an Adam and Eve on a raft, a Bloodhound in the hay, a blue plate special, two cheeseburgers with onions, two chicken breasts high and dry, eggs benedict, a smoked pastrami sandwich annnnddd…a side of extra fries,” Wynn rattled off the top of her head as she set each plate down on any space the table could offer. “Would that be all for you?”

“I mean, we got our fries, now all we’re just missing is the shake,” one of the wrestlers said, throwing a smirk her way.

“Mmm.” Wynn allowed a tight smile to appear as she propped the serving tray against her hip. “You wouldn’t want me shaking anything on you, Chuck.”

“I dunno. I got a joystick that wouldn’t mind getting your hands on it,” Chuck replied, his words slightly jostled from the elbows he received form his snickering goons.

“Enticing but, considering it no doubt a lot of personal wear and tear, I’m not sure that I want to handle something that can’t…perform up to standards.” At the chorus of ooohs that cycled around the table at Chuck Clayton’s sour face, Wynn stood up straight and all but chirped, “Enjoy your heart attacks.”

Their boyish ribbing blended into the background as she went through the rounds, picking up dirty dishes, serving tables, greeting new diners, and delivering checks. She greeted customers with a wide smile and kept a pep in her step, even when a little kid puked on her shoes because his eyes were bigger than his stomach and the mega sundae was his siren call. Another long, fabulous night at Pop’s.

Her feet ached and she was sure she was beginning to smell like old grease and stale coffee but she pushed through. Every extra dollar she made was a dollar towards helping the A.V. Club get better equipment. Riverdale High’s vintage aesthetic was pleasing to the eye but their gear could use a little upgrade. Unsurprisingly the school’s treasury didn’t find her club to be high on their list of priorities, amongst others, and so she found sometimes that doing things herself was the best way to make change. She wasn’t keen on relying on others for help. Her grandfather and mother didn’t raise her that way.

The bell above the door jingled, snapping Wynn out of her autopilot tread of pouring coffee into a mug. The steam curled up and brushed against her face, giving her the extra shot of energy she needed. She glanced towards the door, already mentally planning a place to put the customers, when she stilled and a cold chill ran down her spine.

Moose Mason and Midge Klump walked in through the door, hand in hand, big smiles on their faces as they spoke about something. She couldn’t quite hear over the hard thumps of her beating heart. Her eyes darted between them and the doorway, waiting for it to open once more, waiting for them to be joined by the last addition to their trio. Her hand trembled in anticipation. A steam of hot coffee flowed over the mug’s rim and onto the man’s thumb. The customer jerked his hand back.

Shit! Her first spill in months and it all had to do with someone that wasn’t even there. Someone who still had an annoyingly strong hold on her. Way to go, Wynn. That’s coming right out of your tip. “I’m sorry, I’ll go get you a towel,” she stammered, heat flooding her face. She rushed away, grabbed a stack of napkins, and came back, apologizing profusely as she glanced at the door every now and then. Just to be safe. Just to be sure…

“He’s not here.” Moose calling over the interspersed conversations made her head whip up.

Wynn shot a quick “please let me know if you need anything else” to the man before hurrying over to the table. A burst of excitement shot through her when she got close to the table and she dropped into the seat next to Midge, throwing her arms around the girl. “Hey Smidge!” She greeted her friend with a big hug.

“Hey Schwynn!” Midge’s smile faltered slightly as she leaned forward and sniffed the air around her.

“Oh, I know, I smell like the grease trap. It’s been a long day,” Wynn said with a little sigh. She turned her eyes over to Moose and asked as nonchalantly as she could, “What’d you say?”

“I said he’s not here,” Moose replied. “Reggie. That’s who you were trying to clock at the door, right? He’s not here.”

“Oh.” Wynn leaned back in the seat, her shoulders dropping from her ears as relief washed through her. Good. She didn’t want to deal with him anyway. But then she grunted and the relief switched over to annoyance. Moose and Reggie were attached at the hip, the only way Reggie wasn’t with them was because he was with someone else. Because of course he was, she reasoned. Reggie Mantle always had someone to fall back on when he. She scoffed. “What’s that matter to me?”

“You tell me.” Moose raised his eyebrows.

“It doesn’t.”

“Okay then.”

“It doesn’t.”

Moose laughed. “Someone’s high strung.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice and said, “I got a little bit of the jangle left over if you want to, uh, smooth things out.”

Wynn turned a cutting stare his way. “Really?”

“Moose!” The thud underneath the table following Midge’s admonishing utterance signaled to Wynn that he had been reprimanded. Judging by the way he winced and leaned down beneath the table, he had been reprimanded hard. Wynn smiled. Even after everything that went down that turned their squad into a trio, Midge still had her back.

“What was that—ohh. Right. Sorry, Wynn, I forgot.” Moose’s sheepish smile did little to curb’s Wynn’s disdain.

“Yeah, well, you’re lucky,” she stated. Because she could never forget the way that Reggie betrayed her, lied to her, hurt her. And in her family’s business, of all places! “Anyway, what brings you guys out here.”

“I have your present!” Midge singsonged, pulling a small wrapped gift out of a bag. “It’s from me and Moose. We saw it and I immediately thought of you.” She clapped her hands together in excitement and kicked her legs beneath the table. Moose looked at her with a fond smile.

“Aww, girl, you didn’t have to get me anything,” Wynn said, applying modest tones to her words despite frantically tearing the wrapping paper to shreds in her haste to open the square-shaped box. She lifted the lid and beamed at the silver ring that stared back at her, a bumblebee and yellow honeycomb hexagons spanned the top and glittered beneath the neon lights. “Thanks, guys, I love it!” She slipped the ring onto her finger and admired it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get you guys anything yet. Money’s been kinda tight lately.”

“Don’t worry about it, Tate,” Moose said with a wave of his hand. “We know you’re good for it. You can always pay us back in milkshakes. Or some of Pop’s blackberry pie if there’s any left.” He leaned back in his seat and rubbed his stomach.

“You’re in luck. There are some slices with your names on them,” Wynn said as she got back to her feet. She groaned beneath her breath at the ache in her feet and back and let out a slow breath. “You plan on staying long?”

“Schwynn.” Midge put her hand to Wynn’s arm, stopping her in her tracks. Wynn licked her lips and waited. Midge slipped her hand down and grasped Wynn’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Don’t worry. It’s just us. We promise. We told Reggie not to come.”

Wynn nodded and squeezed Midge’s hand back. “Thank you.”

“But, um…” Midge stole a glance at Moose who made himself busy reading a package of sweetener. A little too closely considering there was a grand total of about seven words on its bright pink wrapping. “Maybe when school starts back up we can have lunch together. All of us. Just like old times?”

Wynn hummed. Old times. Back when she lived from football game to football game, basketball game to basketball game, when she was up at all hours gabbing away on the phone, being the dutiful girlfriend of a member of the jock squad, dropping everything and running to Reggie’s beck and call. Back when she put all her faith and trust into someone only to have it all come crashing down and left her scrambling to remember who she was.

“Maybe. I don’t know. I might have to tutor again,” Wynn said. By which she meant she would definitely pick up another tutoring student.

“Tutor who? I don’t need your help anymore,” Moose pointed out.

“Someone else, then. It’ll be good for college applications anyway. They like consistency.”

“I think you’re the only one worried about college right now.”

That’s because I’m the only one who has to worry about college right now. But Wynn didn’t dare speak those words aloud. Because they didn’t get it, they wouldn’t get it, and they couldn’t get it. She kept a tight-lipped smile and said she’d get their pie right away, turning to head to the back, her hand slipping out of Midge’s grasp.

She twisted the ring on her finger as she headed to the back and shout out the order. The thought was appreciated but she knew who was really behind the gift. Midge and Moose may have known the ins and outs of her relationship with Reggie, but they didn’t know about honeybees.

She reached into her pocket for her phone, swiped it open, and opened up her text messages. The indicator next to Reggie’s name still lit up as an unread message. Her thumb hovered over the button. Should she open it? She’d been going strong with being unresponsive for a while now. Well, it couldn’t hurt to at least see what he had to say… Making up her mind, she tapped the message and waited for it to open up. One word stared back at her.

Hey

Her shoulders shook once with a brief, restrained laugh. Pushing a sigh out of her nose, she let her thumbs compose a reply before she could change her mind. Or think things through. Or stop herself, like she would have done before Midge and Moose came in.

…hey

She put her phone back into the pocket of her apron and had only managed to make it behind the counter when it buzzed again. She whipped it out, tapping open Reggie’s newest message:

She drummed her fingers against the back of her phone, tucked her curly hair behind her ear, and then put her phone away.

The steady thump thump thump of her mother’s forearm crutches signaled Wynn that her mom was on the move. She mentally slapped herself for causing enough noise for her mother to be awake. She’d planned on slipping out the door before her mother could get up. Her mother needed her rest. The fatigue had been hitting her hard lately. Not that Pop or her mother would ever say so to her face, but Wynn knew. She could always tell.

“You’re up early,” Delilah Tate noted as she entered the kitchen.

“So are you,” Wynn noted and then licked a glob of mayonnaise off her thumb. She tossed the knife she was using into the sink, closed her sandwich, and shoved it into a waiting Ziploc bag. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“Yes, well, it’s hard to stay asleep when your legs feel like pin cushions,” Delilah replied. She set her crutches against the round kitchen table and eased herself into a chair. Wynn noticed the way her mother’s face scrunched up in a wince and eased a second later, as if the pain didn’t exist. Wishful thinking.

“I want to head in early to catch Principal Weatherbee before school starts. Talk to him about the A.V. Club and see if we can get some better equipment.” Wynn threw an apple and granola bar into a brown paper bag and followed it up with her sandwich. “The audio for the pep rallies and variety shows barely make the cut and, sooner or later, I’m gonna have Jo-Jo on my ass about it. Girl has claws and I’m not in the mood to be on the end of them. Plus”—she wiped down the counter with a sponge, tossing the leftover crumbs into the nearby trashcan and then moved a plate of toast and eggs onto the table in front of her mother—“I want to see if I can use the extra time to finish recording the last part of my podcast. The episode should have been up yesterday, but I got delayed.”

“I told you you’ve been workin’ at the diner too much, baby,” Delilah said and took a bite of toast. Loose crumbs fell off the piece of toast due to Delilah’s trembling hand. Wynn and Delilah both ignored it.

Wynn sighed. “It’s my job, Momma.”

“Your job is to be a kid.”

Wynn bit her lip. Maybe she’d know how to be a kid if she didn’t have to be the parent. If she didn’t have to worry about if today would be the day their lights would turn off, if their water would be shut off, how much she needed to make in tips to add to her college fund while also having pocket money on the side, if her mother took her pills, if Pop was getting enough sleep between shifts. Worries plagued her, followed her around like a black cloud. Worries pushed her, drove her, fanned her flames and made her want to be the best Wynn she could be. Because she had to be the best; with “win” in her name, she couldn’t lose. She had too much at stake.

“Just eat, Momma.” Wynn went over to the phone and dialed a number that she knew by heart. It only took a few rings for the other line to be picked up.

“Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe, Pop speaking.”

Just like beams of sunshine breaking through a wall of clouds, Pop’s voice put a smile on Wynn’s face and gave her back her pep. (She was not a morning person, especially when said morning came about four hours after a long shift). “Hey Poppy, I got your breakfast made. It’s in the fridge, eat it when you get in before you get some sleep this time. Momma’s up and I already prepared her breakfast and lunch. She said she was feeling pins and needles in her legs again”—as she spoke she reached up into a cabinet, pulled down a bottle of pills, and set it in front of Delilah—“I brought in the newspaper and I’m putting the bills in the mailbox on my way out. I just wanted to let you know I’m heading into school early to talk to Principal Weatherbee.”

“There’s that initiative. I don’t know where you got it from, certainly not me,” Pop said with his rumbling laugh.

“I got it from all the Pops before you,” Wynn stated, pride wrapped around her words. “And I got it from you too. And I got it from Momma. What can I say, you raised a badass family Poppy.”

“Hey now! I know I didn’t teach you that language!”

Wynn laughed. “You raised a rad or, dare I say groovy, family, then.” Softening her tone she added, “I’m proud of you, in case I don’t tell you often enough.”

“I’m proud of you too, Wynner. And you tell me enough to keep my spirits lifted.” He hummed. “God blessed me with a wonderful family. I’m the luckiest man alive.”

“Well, I’m gonna let you get back to work, Mr. Lucky Man. Please get some sleep later, okay? The rush should be slower during the day. I’m sure Evan can hold down the fort.”

“Yes ma’am. I love you, I’ll see you later.”

“Love you too.”

Wynn hung up the phone and pushed her hands through her frustratingly unruly hair and quickly lifted it to a messy bun atop of her head. “Did you take one?” she addressed Delilah. Delilah side-eyed her as she downed a glass of water. Wynn’s eyebrows furrowed at the sight of it; she didn’t even notice her mother had gotten up. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Don’t mother me like that. Last I checked, I was the one in labor with you for eighteen hours,” Delilah replied.

Wynn laughed. “That’s always your argument, isn’t it? Sorry I caused you so much pain!”

“Oh the pain was expected. It’s the gray hair that I’m having a problem with.” Delilah patted her hair to make a point.

“Silver foxes are in, donchaknow?”

“I’m not old enough to be a fox, let alone a cougar.” Delilah winked. “Vixen maybe.”

“Yeah, y’still got it Momma.” Wynn glanced at the cat clock on the wall, eyes shifting with every swish of its tail. “Okay, I really have to go. Text me if you need anything. I can come back on my free period or at lunch. I left my schedule on the fridge for school, for Pop’s, and my extracurriculars and—”

Delilah held up her hand, effectively stopping Wynn from talking. “I’m not going to fall apart when you’re not here. I love you, Wynn, but stop worrying about me. Let me worry about you.”

Wynn swallowed and nodded. “Right, yeah, right. Sorry. I just…” Her words trailed off and she clicked her tongue. She grabbed her lunch and her school bag off the counter. She brushed past the table, hesitated, and then went back, leaning over to kiss her mother’s cheek.

“Have a good day, baby,” Delilah said, gently caressing Wynn’s cheek.

Wynn rushed to the front door, pausing to stomp her feet into her trusty floral doc martens, and left the Tate home, slamming the door behind her. She bounded down the stairs, swinging her crossbody bag over her shoulder and picked up her pastel blue Schwinn bike that lay on its side, spokes pointing up to the sky.

She lifted it upwards, jumped on, and took off towards Riverdale High. The leftover bits of snow crunched beneath her tires and the crisp, cool wind whipped her face and stung her eyes but she didn’t mind. She lived for mornings like this, when everything was quiet, still, sleeping. When the day was new, before the anxieties and frustrations that came with being a teenager stained the clean slate.

It wasn’t long before she rolled onto the Riverdale High campus. She slid her bike into the rack, locked it, and brushed grease off her hands. Looking up, she spotted the back of Principal Weatherbee’s signature tweed jacket, elbow pads and all.

“Principal Weatherbee—wait!”

He wheeled around on his heel, door to the school halfway open. She saw him smile as she rushed up the front steps, eager to reach his side. “Ah, Wynona Tate—”

“Wynn, Principal Weatherbee, please.” She cleared her throat. “I prefer Wynn.”

“Yes, of course. In fact, Ms. Tate, you’re just the person I was hoping to see.”

“I was hoping to see you too, Principal Weatherbee.” She stepped into the school, getting hit by the distinct scent of rubber erasers and lemon Pine-sol. “It’s about clubs—”

“Don’t worry about the cubs, Ms. Tate. I know we’ll be a little overcrowded in the upcoming weeks but I’m sure the turnout will better than you can even imagine.”

Wait, what? Wynn stopped walking, nearly crashing into the door of the front offices that Principal Weatherbee had let start to close behind him. She sidestepped the door, slipping in, briefly saying hi to Ms. Phillips at the front desk and followed Principal Weatherbee into his office. He set his briefcase down in his chair and then went to the windows, sliding open the blinds.

“Overcrowded?” Wynn repeated.

“Yes.” Principal Weatherbee turned away from the window and looked at her, hands clasped. “I was going to make the announcement later but, the long and short of it is that Southside High is closing down. Effective immediately.”

“Whoa, what!?” Wynn cried out, eyes widening.

“Yes. We’re taking in some of the student body so, as I said, it will be a little overcrowded here until we get settled. Speaking of settled, that’s where you come in, Ms. Tate.”

Wynn blinked rapidly, waiting to process the information that was thrown at her. Her fingers twitched by her sides, the tips sparking like livewires with pins and needles. Her brain churned, and thoughts crashed around like raging waves. This was historic, she could slip it onto the end of her podcast episode. A Southside High and Riverdale High merger? Her listeners would go through the roof with that information alone. And then it clicked. Riverdale High and Southside High were merging. Was she the first to know about it? What a scoop! She moved to whip out her phone but stopped when Principal Weatherbee’s clearing of his throat stopped her.

“Erm…sorry, sir.” She sheepishly put her phone away and clasped her hands together. “What were you saying?”

“I expect you to give this your full and undivided attention, Ms. Tate, because this is of the utmost importance,” Principal Weatherbee stated. All traces of her smile left her face and she nodded. “I have spoken with the former principal at Southside High. It seems that a few of their students are falling a bit behind in their studies. I am aware that math is one of your best subjects”—he paused when Wynn grinned and made finger-guns in his direction—"I am seeking your expertise in aiding a few of the Southside High students that are coming in to raise their grades.”

“Yeah?” Wynn lifted her bag higher on her shoulder and then corrected herself when his eyes cut her. “I mean, are you sure? Cheryl’s held a 4.0 since she pranced out of the womb, surely she’s more qualified.”

“She may have a stellar GPA but you have a more…empathetic approach to people and their plights.”

“You mean I’m less of a man-eater,” Wynn decoded. “I mean, I’d love to, but I already have soccer coming up and working at Pop’s and yearbook and my podcast. Oh, and the A.V. Club, which I wanted to speak to you about—”

“While I admire your propensity to keep yourself engaged in a plethora of activities—”

Wynn shrugged. “Yes, well, it looks good on college applications and you and I both know my sort needs an extra leg up to even get in the same door as my peers.”

Principal Weatherbee nodded. “Exactly. Some of the students from Southside High have an even lower chance of even seeing next-level education on the horizon. That is where you come in. If there is anyone who understands the upcoming struggle, it’s you.”

Wynn’s eyebrow twitched. She knew a low blow when she saw one but he was a smart man and he struck gold while barely lifting a finger. He was good. “You’re really speakin’ to my heart, Weatherbee.”

“In these times, it’s nice to know someone still has one.”

Her mouth twisted to the side and she gazed past him, out the window, out to the Riverdale High campus. Her bike stood out against the pale greens, browns, and grays that washed out their dreary landscape. Cars started to swing into the circle drive, parents dropping off students, as others milled in from down the street and parked their own.

Her breath hitched at the sight of a black 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle and then stuttered outwards when Reggie stepped out of it, beaming as he gazed up at the school. His eyes rested on the office windows and Wynn immediately turned away, just in case he’d seen her. Her mind reeled back to the conversation she had with Moose and Midge at Pop’s just two days ago.

Maybe when school starts back up we can have lunch together. All of us. Just like old times?

Yeah, and maybe she’d have a lobotomy. Anything than having to subject herself to lunch with her ex-boyfriend.

“You know what? I’m in.” Wynn held Principal Weatherbee’s gaze and nodded once, letting him know she was serious. “I’ll tutor anyone you think needs help. Send them my way. I can give up some of my lunch periods.”

“I think you’ve made the right decision, Ms. Tate. I’ll pass your information onto any troubling students.” Principal Weatherbee reached out and somewhat awkwardly patted Wynn on the shoulder, as if he wasn’t sure he were allowed to. “It’s nice to know I can count on you.” He lowered his hand. “Now, you better get ready for class. And Ms. Tate? Don’t speak a word of this to anyone. I’ll be making an announcement accordingly.”

Wynn gave Principal Weatherbee a two-fingered salute and left the office, making a beeline for the woodshop behind the school stage. If she were lucky she’d have enough time to record the ending of her podcast. She had a lot to pick apart.

#riverdale #riverdale fanfic #sweet pea #sweet pea & oc #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale oc #wynn tate #pop tate #delilah tate #sabrina spellman #btl1 #sweet pea fanfic #my writings

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natbiliunas · 3 years

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The new social: TikTok

Over the course of the pandemic, TikTok has gained a huge following. The social media has been around for only five years and has over 800 million active users. Wow.

Ever heard of the hashtag #tiktokmademebuyit? Probably right? Well that tag on the app has over 6.1 million views. Just imagine TikToks influence on the retailing world.

Social shopping, yes it’s a thing. Whenever I go on Instagram, Twitter, Snapchat, and now TikTok, the first thing that comes up is an advertisement for shopping. Most of these social medias even have a shopping tool that has nothing to do with who you follow. Retailers are using social media as another way to get consumers to buy their merchandise, and TikTok is leading the way.

TikTok users are extremely creative with their videos, now think about retailers who have a decent advertising budget and powerful digital arts team. These videos that retailers post drag the consumer in and keep them. Once you click on their account or give their video a like, that company will now show up everywhere, reminding you of it. It’s not just huge retailers that are taking advantage of this hot app. Small businesses are flourishing because of it. All it takes for one of their videos to get slightly viral and they start to gain a committed following.

Social media has always been a force in online shopping. But with the influence TikTok has, it has changed the way people shop and where they shop. Small business retailers have a foot in the door because of this. People’s homemade baked goods side hustle has now turned into a successful, full time, online business. TikTok has changed the way retailers have presented themselves and have consumers spend their money.

https://www.forbes.com/sites/catherineerdly/2021/11/20/tiktok-live-shopping-is-flourishing--heres-how-small-businesses-can-benefit/?ss=retail&sh=1e6f3c90406e

#tiktok #smallbusiness #retail #socialmedia

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poisoning-of-the-party-blog · 6 years

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A FIVE YEAR LETTER - A RESPONSE TO MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE’S BREAK-UP

I woke up this morning still dreaming, or not fully aware of myself just yet. The sun poked through the windows, touching my face, dragging me from a dream world I wasn’t ready to leave. That tends to be my motive every morning. The dreams are better than my reality. I hope that someday, whether it’s tomorrow or 5 years from now, my reality is much better than my dreams. I’m willing to go the distance. I’m sure I’ll make it. Of course, my slumber was broken by the sound of chaos. Naturally, I panicked. Of course, I did. Loud noises tend to scare me. Or, should I say, loud noises that I didn’t plan nor expect scare me. The sound of dogs barking and my mother screaming. That scares me. The sound of a drum pounding, led by my movements. That doesn’t scare me. But the chaos of the morning ripped me from my half-sleep and caused me to get tangled in my blankets. Take Lucky out, feed the outside cat, do a list of unnecessary chores that my mother simply cannot do herself, or refuses to do herself. I don’t hold it against her. Two jobs, three jobs. Simply too much. But I would definitely prefer it if she used a calmer tone and was a kinder woman. Screaming obscenities at your children aren’t the way to go. I lean on the back door, staring into the outside world. Things looked to be about the same - a beautiful, but cold, day. Yesterday was the first day of spring and as a result, it snowed quite a bit. I hadn’t realized how much it was until I was left taking out the trash to the curb. Tomorrow is trash day. But my thoughts weren’t focusing on tomorrow. They were focusing on today. Today is March 22nd, 2018. 5 years ago today, My Chemical Romance had ended. It didn’t seem that long ago, but yet, it seems so far away. Was 2013 really five years ago? Have five years already passed? I can’t believe. My brain simply cannot wrap around it. I spend quite a lot of time on social media today. My time is spent mostly on Discord and Tumblr. I never thought those would be my chosen social media spots. I always saw myself as a Twitter or an Instagram person. But, alas, it seems lately my choice in social media has changed. I’m careful with it. Too much of it messes with my head. But I definitely enjoy it, I will admit. I find myself getting ready for work. Throwing on new boxers, questioning between ratty old jeans or a new pair of jeans. Straightening my hair in what seems like the first time in months. I treat myself today. I feel as if I deserve it. The walk to work is a quiet one. It gives me time to ponder. Most of the time, I find myself filling myself with sound. Some sort of sound. Somedays, it’s Green Day. Somedays, it’s Nirvana. Somedays, Blink-182. But today? Today is a day of silence. Maybe it’s because my phone’s headphone jack isn’t working anymore. Maybe it’s because I know I don’t need the sound. The walk to work is surprisingly peaceful. Why wouldn’t it be? That’s the perk of small-town life. It’s peaceful, for the most part. Here and there, we do have our little bumps and messes. I won’t lie, I live for those days. I love the excitement. I always love the hustle and bustle. Maybe, someday, I’ll move to a city where the hustle and bustle is every day. But my heart will always have a special spot for small-town life. Small town life can be a blessing and a curse. You don’t meet a lot of people and people tend to all be the same. If you don’t fit in, you’re cast out. But that doesn’t mean it’s impossible to make friends and connections. I have plenty. Which is a perk? Everyone knows everyone or is related to someone. I’m not a native, so the latter doesn’t apply to me. But still, I feel the lull. I can tell that’s a diesel truck driving by, just by the sound of the motor. This is my home, despite how out of place I may feel some days. It’s hard to find a place, but I found my place. 5 years ago, I found my place. I was young and frail. I was broken and alone. I was isolated and afraid. It’s not surprising. March 19th marked the 6 year anniversary of my father leaving. It’s still a sore pain. Sometimes, the wound is fresh. Sometimes, the wound is a scar. But it’s always there. Always throbbing. It’s one of those pains in which all you can do is put the headphones in and crank it up. When my depression set in, that’s when the isolation began. I became an iceberg. I burned my sketchbooks like every bridge to my island. I smashed the keys on my keyboard just as I smashed the key to every lock to my heart. I shut down. I cut off. I became violent and irrational. I became a ticking time bomb, ready to blow. As I type this, my chest feels tight. I feel numb. The tears well up. I am no longer a 17-year-old man, hardened by battles. I am a 12-year-old girl with arms sliced open with a bloody knife and bruises around her neck from another broken noose. I am no longer me. I am her again, blackish in colour again. With every bomb, there comes a point where it needs to explode. And when I exploded, it was ugly. It was days with a psychiatrist, in a doctor’s office instead of school, suicide watch, revoking and isolation. I was a failure. I was a mess. I was a runaway dragged home. With the healing process came latching. I needed someone to hold onto. Someone to lock myself on to. I clung to an old friend who had been there for so long. I feared to lose her. Kiya was the one who introduced me to this band. They were called My Chemical Romance. It was a sound I had never heard before. Scratch that, it was similar to what I had heard, Green Day and Shinedown. But it was different. The vocalist’s voice, he sounded familiar. But that was a memory I would realise down the road when the red-haired man on Yo Gabba Gabba! that I pointed to at age 10 saying I wanted to be like turned out to be none other than the man that saved my pathetic and worthless life. This was a new feeling. This was a feeling of salvation. It gave me a new-found confidence and new-found identity. Slowly and steadily, the healing process truly began, now with a soundtrack. It was okay to not be okay. It was okay to learn to be okay. I arrive at work to start my shift. I clock in, already tired before the chaos has begun. But this is a good chaos. This is running around, on my feet, taking orders, laughing with co-workers, getting messy. This was blaring music on the stereo, mixing in with the smell of freshly baked pizza, flour on my pants and in my hair. It was smiling at customers and living life. 5 years ago, I wouldn’t have dreamed of being here. That’s the thing, about time. Time changes. Everything changes with time. You grow older. You grow stronger. This will be my third summer here, marking the end of my second year here and the beginning of my third year here at Ison’s Family Pizza. I started about two months after I turned 15. I love it. I never thought my first job would be at a pizza place, a family restaurant when I can’t even spell “restaurant” without auto-correct. I also never would have thought I’d live to see my 17 birthday. But yet, in just a few days, I’ll be on a date on my 17th birthday with my beautiful girlfriend, Kiya. I would never have thought that I would be driving around town in a trashed ‘97 Buick, blaring The Used on some Bluetooth speaker connected to my cell phone, because my headphone jack doesn’t work and neither does the tape player in my car. I never thought I’d pick up music and art again. But here we are. After I returned from my depression-fueled hiatus on life, I learned a lot about myself. My name is Ryder. I’m 1/16 Native American. That’s why my brown eyes are the way they are and why I tan so well and never burn, despite being a pale ginger. I love to play piano and sing. I learnt to sing from years of music lessons, but I learnt to SING from Gerard Way. You can tell, by the way, I say my “R”’s and when you compare to how I sang before I quit. Though I’ll admit, I have a soft spot for the drums. I’m not the best, but I love it. I also love to draw. I’m not the best at that either, but I’m learning and growing. That’s the thing. Learning and growing. It comes with time. Everything comes with time. Just like recovery. My first piece on the piano, after returning from my hiatus, was “Welcome To The Black Parade”. I still can’t play it quite right. I’m still learning. But I’m still learning to be okay. I’m not okay at the moment. And that’s okay. It’s okay to be not okay. I learned that from a very special band. A band that became the soundtrack to my life. There was a time where I needed headphones. I needed to kick the headphones up loud until the world was silent and I was lost in the bass. Now, I can put the music on the speaker and make it simply a backtrack to my life. And now, I tune my own guitar and pluck out my own melodies, something that no one has heard before or thought of before. It’s been 5 years. Things have changed over the last five years. Thank you, My Chemical Romance. You’ve given me a great idea.

#ooc #my chemical romance #thank you #mcr

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