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salmoncakepls · 3 months

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A meal to remember. @iwtvfanevents

During the past year I have read and interacted with some of the most creative and talented writers. It astounds me the amount of skill that is in this fanspace and for this meal to remember I wanted to highlight some of my favorite writers and give them their well deserved flowers

Overview: With this fanspace I have traveled through many different universes, explored characters through an analytical lens that parallels the show itself, enjoyed these stories in fun, wholesome*, and interesting ways ! I have seen such beautiful creativity and I wanted to highlight some of my favorite fic writers and really delve into what I enjoy so so much about their writings in no particular order xoxo

@nakiaslilhoodoo | SnakesandRabbits

Your fics are truly like comfort food to me like I love sitting down after a long day and reading like truly sweet stuff. A lift truly did give me that christmassy feeling during the holidays. It’s stuff like that that makes you say aw this is sweet you know, like matched with Then Leave like yess innovative trans lou / Lily I love that so so much. And we also have comedic aspects in em’ too which I love how your fics never fail to make me smile-- I remember getting giddy at the Chess series (I was like oo what’s coming next like I loved the lil beef its just very fun). Ohh and I cannot forget to mention The Time We Have which is quite beautiful. I like the calm of it, yes I can feel the fresh morning itself--it's just like the little things you know, those little moments are oh so lovely.

@blacclotusss | BlaccLotuss

I love how you explore Jonah and Louis’ relationship like ion see much of it but you’re my go to in these especially alternate realities. Like the sweetness is off the charts in your fics and I love the fluffiness and how you branch out into that mix-medianess in Come Home to Me and your exploration of that sweet parts of Claudia and Louis together through Letters* . Also woahh just god the sweetness in Sexual Immorality I love how you write Louis and Armand together, dialogue is just so so nice. And the roleplay in the ending like oop you never fail to like get me with endings like reminding me of how shocked I was of Charred’s ending, just so good and so insane. I loved the gothic fluff of that one itself, woah.

@blueiight | southernhummingbird

Poeticism in unimaginable ways, you really have it. I remember first reading rhododendron and like just the feeling was of an instrument the way your words just literally string me along. And then it’s like you pull out bangers after bangers in the delta breeze [dare to breathe] it’s nostalgic, beautiful, lush and heart wrenching all at once, again the words strung me along so perfectly. Lipstick traces is so so vivid and I love the story being told here, you pack so much in small sections it’s so astounding and inspiring to me < 3

@dictee | boltcutters

I remember first reading dirges and oh my god not only are you somewhat of a prophet but you enraptured me into the beauty of your writing. It had lead me to the first taste just quite beautiful it feel like a page ripped out of season two... and l just love how evocative it is. I also feel like I’ve gone on and on to you personally about how astounded I am by i am amazed by peace just dyke loumand is presented so so gorgeously--you’re writing in this reminds me of a past memory. It is so absolutely insane how you display your writing chops just so wonderfully.

@knifeeater | serpentskirts

You have the type of writing style that makes everything so so beautiful. I think the romantic-eroticism in each of your stories are just shown in such a beautiful rhythmic way like in perpetuum mobile and also in glass--which when I read it I feel like I got so caught up in your words it’s like your descriptions are consuming me.

@enterprisery| flowerplots

Your writing feels like calm, the way your words are given to me. Like even in your erotic gore ( your heart inside my chest ) it feels like I’m just taking a breath-- and speaking of which breath, held just displays that your creativity knows no bounds, in every fic you write it just fits so perfectly for these characters and it’s so wonderful how you write them in their descriptors (like in push too far --which btw I love the way it is formatted, so so unique) and in their dialogue (like in hunger )--it’s all so beautiful.

@meastyeyes | meastyeyes

I really love Keep me Humming the fluffiness is really nice and I love how the vividness in it can match what we could see in the show. I enjoy how you show that love through Louis very very gorg the tension of it all amazing.

@weather-mood | weathermood

All your stories have an air of magic in them like of course with your incredible list of fairytales The Princess and the Pea (aa louis princess moments I love) , Once Upon a Wine Dark Sea ( Which just fits so well--siren-vampirism yeah I love just seeing how you display these characters as different mythos, your universes are so out of this world it is amazing.), and rumplestiltskin (which I remember when I first read you had that beautiful air of mystery in that beginning and to come to find out it was simply armanlou roleplaying antics--it kind of unlocked something in me) but also seeing that freshness and dreaminess that is featured in fairy tales also in your stories that are not necessarily based off of that (such as Train Tracks , Glass Coffins and Golden Roses, and mental topology experiments to the tune of bubblegum bitch ). Just an amazing selection of works--in your long fics they always keep me guessing where it’s gonna go and I love that.

@nlbv | nlbv

Your writing is just so so amazing, descriptors off the charts I must start with baby father in which you start off with me already visualizing everything. The mood is set in such a nostalgic way it’s vividness takes me into the scene. Exploration of Louis and Claudia is always so gorg and you do it so so wonderfully. And I remember, oh, I remember reading the different stories in Scenes From A Marriage how you can take moments from the canon out and expand upon it, keep the scene running all with gorgeous prose.

@shewhomustbecalledking | dirtygoldensoul

a holy love is so so atmospheric I feel as if I am in the universe itself when I read it. And I feel like that’s a common thread within your stories. Because whenever I always feel like I’m falling into the world whether it’s more grounded in the rivalry induced beautiful liars or being put into the true blood inspired Under the Blood Moon you just know how to create these worlds and quite wonderfully so.

@devotiondroid | themasterletters

Your ability to put these characters in the show in different situations so eloquently is so so astounding to me. I remember when I’d first started reading your writings and seeing how the plot literally kept me guessing and it had done the same in cord of communion and especially in quizas (which, I am obsessed with to this day it has an amazing grasp on me). And the way your genres can shift and morph from wolfsbane to in a lonely place like it feels like you can do it all and still enrapture me--such beautiful prose and such an engaging writing style just fantastic.

@diasdelfuego | gaypiratedivorce

Little Kidnaps was one of the first (if not the first) IWTV fic I have ever read so your writing instantly implemented a special place in my heart. And this fic--and nox itself-- is something that I always kept going back to and rereading every other time it’d update or come to my mind. You have such a beautiful vision of the IWTV story itself (and the VC as a whole) and how you balance these characters is just so wonderful--it kept me reading in times I was deprived from the show. But your lovely writing does not stop there of course--I’ll let you win really is so so gorgeous wow like you got me with the noir setting and it astounds me how vivid you write it and also try to swallow the wave is so amazing as well from start to finish and your writings just do that certain amount of re-readability that I will always keep coming back to you.

@iwtvdramacd18 | The_Lame_Goat

Your descriptions in stories are out of this world the tiptoeing between romance and horror and romance inside that very horror is very gorgeous--Lunacy is a great example of this, and the way it is set up in little fragments ( non- linear) it is just wonderful what you’re doing and continue to do. Prey Drive I feel like is also in this category and oh I do love me some prey drive (it’s one of those goat classics™ ) and I come back to it because it does pull me in with that chase with that hunt--just all of it is gorgeously written. I think what also just drives me to your writing is your characterization and I think in Wolfkiller it is especially on display. I love how you write Claudia and the horror of Lestat --Wolfkiller never fails to make me say ‘You get it’ because you really do and it drives me insane. And of course special mention to To Pluck Gently At Strings it goes so hard I became a Armand/Nicki understander because of such vividness in the descriptors just great !

@kittyldpdl | kittyldpdl

I’m not sure if it was the night island or bass in my body that I had first read but regardless I had been coerced by your writing. Like it is banger after banger with your fics, your prose so beautiful and it hypnotizes me into reading more and more. cleave/tie left me wondering what was next, left me thinking about it for days in and out and rereading it the effect just leaves me going back to it again. And I know I’ve talked to you at length about your fics (lol when I was reading the bloody chamber I was like was that an #kittyldpdl reference ) but I feel as though I could go on and on about how amazing your prose is. Footfall had me again feeling that same way, falling in love with your writing again, making me curious about it all--mixture of the gore eroticism. Fantastic and inspiring all around !

Collaborations:

dirtygoldensoul x gaypiratedivorce Collab:

And it’s quite amazing how both of yall can beautifully mesh their writings--this is displayed wonderfully in overlords I spent a whole day reading it and catching up on it, y’all writing combined truly encapsulates that air of mystery and a feeling of nostalgia (but in an ominous deja vu type of way). That just very thing entrances me immensely.

MasterMood Universe:

It was a holiday season gift, it was a valentine's day gift--and it keeps on giving. Like it was insane from the start and you both, as I mentioned, have a feature in your writings where you cannot tell where its gonna go and it leaves you anticipating and excited to see what happens next. And of course bonus points because of how wholesome* the whole teachers’ pet series is. I can tell y’all had so so much fun writing these stories because I can see it directly through the writing and it only added to my own enjoyment.

weathermood x nlbv Collab:

Pirouette is an amazing look into Lily and like I love how yall take this little bit we have of her in the show and expound on her in such a complex way. I love in general just taking off little parts of the show and making more of it but this is next level--and y’all did it so wonderfully woah.

The_Lame_Goat & kittyldpdl Collaboration:

Y’all writing together stuns me to the point of extreme amazement. The wrath of the lamb has some of the most beautiful and addicting prose ever, and it is such a wonderful blend of y’all two it scares me !! The story and the words itself just absolutely wonderful--it’s the type of thing you have to read over again and slow to just get that feeling of when you’d first read it. So excited but apprehensive for the second chapter (PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE give me a warning before yall post it I need to mentally prepare and I dont wanna die !!!!! )

I want to specially mention ‘House’ which just shows the talent on full display at full force. Like in general I have never seen anything like it before--for starters just the immense collaboration between 7 people who are so dedicated to not only the show but their craft as well--and to do that and for it to flow so beautifully is absolutely both insane and amazing to me. The whole concept of the story being akin to like a game--trying to essentially escape the house, being forced back in and in turn being plunged into little scenes of the house itself--excerpts of the past through the overall horror element of the house itself. Going through hallways to try to complete it and find every bit of the house--it is so vivid in the way that the chapters are set up. When you get stuck you really feel stuck and the high emotive chapters really get you and then you’re pushed into a calm moment and everything feels okay or not quite right--I love the many many combinations of the ways you can go (how the house gets bigger so it feel like the possibilities truly are endless !). I remember when I first read it and I was absolutely astounded. I felt every level of emotion, the happy, the sad, the nostalgia--just everything that makes the show the show is put into ‘House’ gracefully. Such a masterful collaboration, I wanna hang it up on my fridge. House inspired me to make D;I the way it is-- the interactiveness grabbed me and the story itself made me play along til’ the end (& again) and I will keep rereading until it consumes me whole. Mwah Everyone who wrote in it did such a lovely job even when I tried to look at a single chapter it entrances me and pushes me into reading the whole thing <3

That’s about it--I do feel like I missed a few fic writers ( but ofc if we ever have something like this again I’ll make a bigger list so I have more time~~) I always try to comment on stuff I enjoy so just know I see ur talenttt & I see you. I just love the creativity in general and woah everyone is so so amazing

#a meal to remember #fics #i love all yall mwah mwah #iwtv

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su-itca-se · 8 months

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Dear Brother (Oniisama e…) LaserDisc scans and machine translations

These past few years I have fallen in love with the work of director Osamu Dezaki. Alongside Tomorrow’s Joe (Ashita no Joe), I hold Dear Brother in the highest regard.

It was a 1991 anime based on Riyoko Ikeda’s 1974 manga. You should watch the anime. It’s on Tubi for free. But really, just trust me. Buy the Blu-Ray from Discotek.

This anime came and went. There isn’t any merchandise besides some phone cards. Decaying fan sites and discourse is out there, but it’s a bit of a hunt.

Some time ago I saw a fan letter written by Hideaki Anno, apparently from the LaserDisc releases. From what I could tell, the LaserDisc packaging featured a treasure trove of notes from the staff that I just had to read. But I couldn’t find them!

If you’re not aware, LaserDiscs are one step above burnable trash in Japan — often on sale for 200 yen or less in heavy boxes shoved into the corner of second-hand anime stores. So I bought all five volumes of the 1993 Dear Brother LaserDisc release, was thrilled to notice unique letters from staff and industry luminaries in the interiors, and I scanned everything! And machine translated them.

I hope this (long, comprehensive) post brings fans of Dear Brother the same pleasure it brought me to compose it!

Note: I cannot read Japanese. I’ve used Google Lens for OCR, and GPT-4 for translation. My scans are good (and you can get them on Archive.org in high res) but these translations are not archive-quality and should not be depended on without verification. I’ve done my best to make corrections and have attempted to wrangle the correct tone and meaning out of the AI, but they’re essentially just for fun. Corrections of the most egregious stuff would be welcomed, email me: [email protected].

Volume One

Each disc is themed after a character and colour. The back is peppered with screencaps and notable quotes (“Anata wa dare?” says little Nanako) as well as series credits. The two notable parts to translate are the disc synopsis, and the subheading (seen here in pink on the far left.) Maybe it’s a pull quote? Not really. So I called it a subheading.

Volume One Subheading

A forbidden cult anime masterpiece born of satellite broadcasting is finally available on LD.

Volume One Synopsis

Private Seiran Academy. A story of beautiful love and deep hatred unfolds at this prestigious all-girls high school steeped in tradition. The protagonist, Nanako Misonoo, who is thrilled to enroll in the high school division of her dream academy, encounters three stunning individuals: Miya-sama, Sanjust-sama, and Sho no Kimi. She also gets introduced to the glamorous world of Seiran Sorority, a society that only the chosen few are allowed to join. As a freshman granted unexpected membership in the Sorority, Nanako begins to take a deep look at love, friendship, and the essence of being human, all while being surrounded by envy and jealousy. She confides her various experiences at the academy, along with unspeakable worries and hardships, in letters to her elder “brother” and a young man named Takehiko Henmi… A masterpiece anime born of satellite broadcasting. It is a work by Riyoko Ikeda that the Dezaki-Sugino duo took on for the first time in 11 years since “The Rose of Versailles.” It is considered a unique work that brings a fresh, unprecedented shock by transcending the framework of TV anime with its aesthetic world.

The disc looks like this:

An “obi” (sash that covers the spine) is included. Of course, it says “My tears won’t stop!” in huge text, sells it as the latest Dezaki/Sugino collaboration, and describes it as tanibi na sekai — a poetic concept of a romantic, sublime world of aesthetic beauty.

There are two paper inserts in each volume. The first one looks like this, and is an index of LaserDisc chapter markers based not on plot developments, but notable character quotes.

There’s also a form you can fill out to get a telephone card. Simply cut out a coupon from each volume to prove you bought the full set. Be quick, entries are due end of March 1994.

The interior is the best part. Here’s the spread for Volume One.

I haven’t translated episode synopses, but I’ve attempted to translate both the staff letter and the “letter to dear brother” from someone external to the production. There’s a bio for each author.

Volume One’s “From the staff to all the fans”

Bio:

Osamu Dezaki Joined Mushi Production in 1963. After directing series like “Astro Boy” and “Goku’s Great Adventure,” he was selected as the general director for “Tomorrow’s Joe” in 1970 at the young age of 26. Born on November 18, 1943, and hailing from Tokyo, he has received high praise as a director. Subsequently, he has brought numerous masterpieces into the world, including “Aim for the Ace!”, “The Adventures of Ganba,” “Nobody’s Boy,” “Treasure Island,” “The Rose of Versailles,” “Space Adventure Cobra,” “BB,” and more. He is also referred to as “Sakimakura” and “Mataba Sakimakura.”

The letter:

This is my second time working on Ikeda-san’s work since “The Rose of Versailles.” Her works have a unique aroma, whether you call it a theme or a world. They seem to pursue the literary aspect of the story. When I read the original work of “Dear Brother,” I was very drawn to these aspects, and at the same time, I felt a sense of anticipation that it would be difficult, but perhaps various images could be created. It’s not just about being cool or intense; it’s about creating images that resonate more and more with people’s hearts. Fundamentally, there is an original story, but when the characters start to move, and each begins to live, the story could go anywhere. I always had that sense of tension. So, rather than sticking to the original work, I placed more emphasis on the directorial focus of the reality of the characters who had started to move. As for the techniques, it was not something I was particularly conscious of, but I used a lot of completely black shots simply because I honestly felt they needed to be black. Whether or not it was successful, I wanted to effectively overlap the visuals with the characters’ psychology by delivering such physiological shocks. The psychological fluctuations of the people are indeed the overall aroma of this work. How the audience perceives that aroma is something I want to leave up to each individual’s free sensitivity. - July 8, 1993, at Tezuka Pro

Volume One’s “Letter to Dear Brother”

Bio:

Mutsumi Inomata Born on December 23 in Kanagawa Prefecture. After working with Ashi Production and Kaname Production, she is currently freelance. After going through Ashi Production and Kaname Production, she is now a freelance artist. Mutsumi Inomata is her real name. She was born on December 23 in Kanagawa Prefecture. She is active in both the fields of anime character design and illustration. In the realm of animation, she served as the character designer and chief animation director for works such as “Plawres Sanshiro” and “Genmu Senki Leda,” and as the character designer for “Future GPX Cyber Formula.” As an illustrator, she has also provided numerous illustrations for novels, including titles like “Prince of the Universe,” “Dragon Quest,” and “Continent of the Wind.”

The letter:

Comics are way hard to translate without actually knowing Japanese. Here’s my best effort to uncover some meaning.

For several years, I had stopped watching anime and stuff… Living a hectic life, it’s been like this for a while now. Having a set day and a set time to watch a specific program (not just limited to anime), had become impossible for me. Recording videos is also a hassle, and first and foremost, I just don’t feel that “I must watch the next episode!” kind of emotion anymore. Ah well, I was thinking maybe I’ve just become an adult. Heh heh heh. I’m such an idiot. No, that’s not it.

The blonde guy in the bottom-right is labeled as her friend, and she’s saying something about “Poupee-chan”. I think in the second panel he’s yelling saying “But that doll is supposed to be a girl!”

The final monologue starts with:

By the way, I have a container for “dangerous items” at the corner of my work desk. I keep things like cutter blades in it, so that I don’t accidentally drop them on the floor and cut myself or something. The “dangerous items” container I’m using now has a sticker with Saint-Just-sama’s “Nanako’s Eyes,” heh heh heh ♡

That’s about all there is to note about Volume One, besides the fact it comes with an enormous poster (it’s the same art used on the cover of the Discotek Blu-Ray.)

Volume Two

Volume Two Subheading

Those eyes of that person, mysteriously and beautifully shining. Why these feelings? Why...? The increasing heartbeat, the endless tears of adolescence. A masterpiece of forbidden cult anime born from satellite broadcasting! The second installment on LaserDisc!

Volume Two Synopsis

Nanako’s life at school, after being chosen as a sorority member, was not all glitz and glamour. There were misunderstandings with her best friend Tomiko, and jealousy and slander from other students, including Misaki Aya. And then there was the obsessive love from her fellow sorority member, Nobuo Mariko. “What is a sorority? Is it really that important?” Nanako began to question the very existence of sororities. Yet, she tries to look straight into herself, even while confused. Always before her were the mysteriously beautiful and shining eyes of Saint-Just. Drawn to those eyes that seemed to peer into a distant past, Nanako attempts to uncover their secret. Then, by chance, she finds out about the special relationship between Fukiko and Saint-Just. Could it be that Miya-sama and Saint-Just-sama are…? The complicated interplay of relationships and the previously enigmatic characters start to become a little clearer in “Volume 2: The Chapter of Freezing Rain.” The subtle breaths of the people surrounding Nanako can be heard.

Volume Two’s “From the staff, Dear Nanako”

Bio:

Hideo Takayashiki Born in 1947, native of Iwate Prefecture. After passing through Osamu Tezuka’s Mushi Production, became a scenario writer. Known for scripts of theatrical anime films such as “Hang in There, Tabuchi-kun!”, “Barefoot Gen”, and the “Phoenix” series. Also worked on numerous TV anime scripts like “Gutsy Frog”, “Gamba’s Adventure”, and “Tomorrow’s Joe”. Additionally, wrote scripts for original videos and TV dramas like “The Laughing Target”, “One-Pound Gospel”, and has written many novels, actively contributing as a versatile scriptwriter. Member of the Japan Broadcast Writers Association.

The letter:

Dear Nanako Misonoo, How are you? How is university life? It’s hard to believe that three years have passed since then. I was involved with you and those around you for just one year, but in retrospect, it was a very intense year. In any case, I did something terrible to you. It may have been the extreme form of “bullying” in some sense. My work as a scriptwriter involved probing and expanding the uncharted worlds between the frames of original works, constructing new narratives. In a sense, it was a painful job. And for you, it was excruciating. But now it’s a wonderful memory. I am filled with the feeling that I did some real work after a long time. How is your best friend, Tomoko? What about Mariko? I assume Fuki is becoming more and more beautiful? Do you occasionally receive letters from Kaoru? This summer marked the third anniversary of Saint-Just-sama’s passing. Thinking back, it was an unusually hot day. Your anguished form, waiting alone at the platform while listening to the chirping cicadas and the sound of the sea, is still etched in my memory. I hear that there has not been a single day without flowers at the electric pole where Saint-Just-sama fell. I am grateful for the chance to have met you and the people around you. Autumn, 1993

Volume Two’s “Letter to Dear Brother”

Bio:

Kazuhiko Shimamoto Born April 26, 1961 From the hinterland of Hokkaido After being selected as an honorable mention in the 9th Shogakukan Newcomer Comics Award Debuted with “Hissatsu no Transfer Student”. His masterpieces include Gyakkyo Nine’ and Moeyo Pen. Examples include Flame Transfer Student’ and Kamen Rider ZO.”

The letter:

Another piece directed by Osamu Dezaki and supervised by Akio Sugino has become a permanent edition (converted to LaserDisc)! (Hooray!) From the anime “Ashita no Joe” (1), the unique and beautiful way of life portrayed in anime is so intense that it has consistently given us dreams, hopes, despair, loneliness, friendship, love, perseverance, and revival! These works have even surpassed the original works in the emotional impact of their final episodes. I continue to be captivated by the atmosphere conveyed by these works. The reason I enjoy drawing the final episodes of my own works is entirely due to Director Dezaki’s influence! Currently, Osamu Tezuka and Ikki Kajiwara, the two individuals whom I revered as gods in the manga world, are no longer with us. Even now, these works, which possess added charm, continue to provide us (even those who have become professionals) with anticipation for the next episode, life lessons, and motivation for creating works. Seagulls, dance! Liquids, shine!! Wind, blow and then, “Why go to such lengths?” Charafo! Go as far as you can go! Mariko, somehow you’re really scary, Mariko.

Then the words scribbled next to the drawing of Mariko:

You are the protagonist of this work! I’m paying the most attention to you. You’re not alone! That’s right! Make me Mariko’s ‘older brother’… ‘older brother’…

Mariko is saying (OCR mangling here, sadly):

Thank you… I just feel… that’s special… Why not? If I had to say, maybe it’s a ‘woman’s world’…

(Clearly a reference to Rikiishi Toru of Dezaki’s earlier anime Ashita no Joe, who intensely speaks of a “man’s world”. He and Mariko love a good starvation diet!)

The little chibi version of Shimamoto(?) in the bottom left is saying:

But everyone, don’t easily become someone’s ‘older brother.’ It’ll be troublesome later!

GPT-4 noticed a cute reference it couldn’t include in its translation. Its note:

The text seems to be OCR scanned partially, and hence some meanings might be missing or distorted, such as “マンガ界のジョン・シルバーだ!!”, which appears to compare Dezaki and Sugino to a ‘John Silver’ of the manga world.

Volume Three

Volume Three Subheading

It’s not too late; our beautiful time can still be preserved, forever unspoiled, just like this white snow… A forbidden masterpiece of a cult anime born from satellite broadcasting! The fourth release on LD!

Volume Three Synopsis

Suddenly summoned to the sorority house, Nanako is pressured by Fukiko to end her relationship with Hemimi. Upon hearing this, Saint-Just confesses her complicated relationship with Fukiko. The shocking truth behind why “Miya-sama” wanted Nanako in the sorority unfolds, leaving her deeply shaken. Meanwhile, Saint-Just is tormented by the realization that the stronger her feelings for Fukiko, the more she ends up hurting her. The complex relationship between Saint-Just and Fukiko has a tragic past involving a near-suicidal event. On another front, Mariko causes an incident by attacking Misaki, motivated by slander about her parents’ divorce, which leads to a movement spearheaded by Kaoru to abolish the sorority. Amid the crumbling sorority, Fukiko remains composed. The fourth volume, “Chapter of Snow Dance,” captures her frightening yet noble confidence and deep sorrow. In the snow that never melts, remains the sad yet beautiful promise of Saint-Just.

Volume Three’s “From the staff to all the fans”

Bio:

Tomoko Konparu Born on March 13, 1956, in Nara Prefecture. Pisces. Blood type AB. A fan of both manga and anime, she became a screenplay writer and debuted during her university days with “Ikkyu-san.” Anime works include “Urusei Yatsura: Only You,” “Urusei Yatsura: Remember My Love,” “Touch 2: Farewell Gift,” “Phoenix,” “Cat’s Eye,” “Hime-chan’s Ribbon,” and more. Novel works include “Mystery at the Tower of London,” “Mystery at Nara’s Great Buddha” (published by Kobunsha Bunko), among others.

The letter:

When I heard that this work was going to be turned into an anime, I was shocked. I’d known about the series since its serialization, so my reaction was something like, “What!? Are they really going to do it!? And on NHK of all places!?” Expanding on the original work and filling in the parts that hadn’t been depicted was incredibly challenging, but also enjoyable. What surprised me was that, around the midpoint, the characters started to assert themselves, taking actions that were entirely different from what I had planned. The princess would say, “My pride isn’t so easily swayed,” San Just would insist, “I’m not going to commit suicide,” and even the older sisters of the sorority were like, “We can’t back down now.” Every time this happened, I had to rework the composition. This phenomenon of “characters moving on their own accord” was a first for me in an anime series, and it was an incredibly fresh and pleasant experience. That being said, it’s rare to be so emotionally invested in characters while working, to the point of even role-playing their lines. To be honest, this was a work that got my inner anime fan excited. Ah, I want to do work like this again!

Volume Three’s “Letter to Dear Brother”

Bio:

Keiko Fukuyama Born on September 7. From Tokyo. Currently, she is working as a manga artist, authoring works like “Ruru-chan of Star Island” and “The Tale of Appfelrant.” She also illustrates for children’s stories, including the “Mama Ghost Series.”

The letter:

It appears to be titled “To the Unforgettable Older Sister”. Much of it is too hard to OCR. It opens with this caption:

“To My Older Brother…” is so melancholic and sentimental that it instantly takes us back to our student days where we felt we were tossed around by fate for no fault of our own…

Here’s some of the text beside the character drawings:

Fukiko/Saint-Just: Reputed as the most beautiful sisters in school Mariko: The most popular Mariko-san who lured our tears. There’s a lot to think about! Tomoko: A straightforward, kind friend Nanako: So there I was, fully embracing my Nanako persona, reaping all the sorority perks you could imagine. (I mean, they even say they’ll hook me up with a dreamy guy!) 💧 And just when I’m soaking up that sorority vibe, guess who’s set to make a surprise appearance right after the teaser for the next issue!

Text coming out of the TV:

It was “Oniisama e”!!!! Poor Mariko-san, right~ Misaki-san also, there was no need to say that much, you know.

Volume Four

Volume Four Subheading

It’s not too late yet, our beautiful time can still last forever, unspoiled by anyone, just like this white snow… A forbidden cult anime masterpiece born from satellite broadcasting! The fourth installment on LD!

Volume Four Synopsis

Suddenly summoned to the sorority house, Nanako is pressured by Fukiko to end her relationship with Hemmi. Hearing this, Sanjust is compelled to confess his relationship with Fukiko. The shocking truth makes Nanako reel in disbelief. He deeply ponders that the stronger his feelings for Fukiko, the more he ends up hurting her. The unusual relationship between Sanjust and Fukiko reveals a tragic past of a failed double suicide. Meanwhile, in the school, an incident occurs where Mariko, slandered for her parents’ divorce, attacks Misaki, leading to an anti-sorority movement centered around Kaoru. Fukiko still acts nonchalantly in front of the crumbling sorority. The volume unfolds displaying Fukiko’s terrifying yet noble confidence and deep sorrow. A beautiful yet sad promise lingers in the snow that never melts.

Volume Four’s “From the staff to all the fans”

Bio:

Kenichiro Haneda Born on January 12, 1949. Graduated from Toho Gakuen College of Music in the Piano Department. An accomplished concert pianist, Kenichiro Haneda has a broad range of experience, including composing and performing music for movies and TV themes, as well as acting as a musical director for musicals and commercials. He has worked on numerous soundtracks such as NHK’s morning drama “Youth Family,” TBS’s “Women Work Hard” and “Life Is Full of Demons.” With his genre-defying approach to music and his bright, humorous personality, he is a sought-after multi-artist in various fields.

The letter:

I’ve worked quite a bit with Music Director Seiji Suzuki in the past. Suzuki gives me the music menu, and I’m the one who creates it. We’ve had some pretty detailed discussions about it. Of course, I’ve read the original work as well. When I read it at home, my daughter gives me a puzzled look, as if to say my interests have changed quite a bit (laughs). I think I wrote around 40 songs in total. The music is meant to have a Baroque sound while also feeling contemporary. The order was for something classical yet with a pop atmosphere. The image that immediately came to my mind was a rhythm section, with a harpsichord playing the melody. String instruments intricately marking the rhythm, much like Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. And on top of that, a flugelhorn playing the melody… Regarding the scenes where the piano is played, I played all of it myself. I often compose and perform my own pieces. It’s less about talent and more like playing two roles; maybe I contribute quite a bit to cost-saving (laughs). In any case, this work has a unique atmosphere. If the music I created successfully captures that, then I must again express my gratitude to Suzuki for coordinating everything. October 28, 1993, aired on NHK

Volume Four’s “Letter to Dear Brother”

Bio:

Hideaki Anno Born on May 22, 1960. Originally from Ube, Yamaguchi Prefecture. Height is 180 cm; weight is a secret. Debuted as an animator during his time at Osaka University of Arts, working on the TV version of “Macross.” Later worked on “Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind,” the film version of “Macross,” “Royal Space Force,” and others, before directing “Gunbuster” and “Nadia: The Secret of Blue Water.” Currently planning new projects.

The letter:

Way to go!! Oniisama e… Wow!! The long-awaited, tumultuous Volume 4!! This volume shows us the peak of the series, from Mariko-san’s stabbing incident to the dissolution of the sorority. Amazing, this is really amazing!! Yes. Especially the heartbreaking breakdown of Nobuo’s family, and the portrayal of the sorority’s downfall reminiscent of the French Revolution, are things that are indescribable with words. Yes. The highlights this time are– Brilliant! Highly sophisticated direction and high-quality animation in Episode 27! Tear-jerking! In Episode 28, Mr. Nobuo Hikawa’s soul-stirring outcry!! Upon hearing those lines, my tears really wouldn’t stop. Seriously. Amazing!! Oh, so moving! The heartfelt words of Miya-sama at the end of Episode 32. The sight of Miya-sama waiting alone in the Sorority House and those lines really hit me hard. Moreover, as always– Incredible!! The world that reminds me of ‘Aim for the Ace!’ and ‘The Rose of Versailles’!! Impressive!! The drama unfolds only in limited settings, like homes, trains, buses, crossings, schools, and other familiar places!! Very Sophisticated!! The direction, composed of stillness and motion, light and black, feels so mature. As expected, Dezaki-san! And, Powerful!! Nanako-san is turning into an adult right before our eyes. Moreover, the music is also great!! I wish the BGM CD would come out soon. The use of chimes and telephones remains clever as ever!! Ah, the only thing missing is a bit more on the background elements… by H. ANO ‘93 10/27

The tiger is saying “It’s awesome, isn’t it!”

Written above the drawings of Mariko and Saint-Just: “These two are definitely the ones. Yes.”

Volume Five

Volume Five Subheading

The summer full of light ends, the eventful summer ends… And then the cherry blossoms bloom again… Brother, I am now… A satellite broadcast-born forbidden cult anime masterpiece! The final chapter on LD!

Volume Five Synopsis

Finally, the petition to abolish the sorority has garnered signatures from over two-thirds of all students. As the campus is in a state of upheaval, Saint-Just is lost in thought alone. One day, he calls Nanako out and promises to take her to the beach where he used to go often with his mother when he was younger. However, on the promised day, Saint-Just never shows up. His sudden death plunges many people, including Nanako, into the depths of sorrow. Among them, Kaoru, who is battling cancer and fearful of its recurrence, takes the news of Saint-Just’s death most seriously. She finds comfort in the warmth of Takahiko Henmi, but continues to stubbornly refuse his love, thinking about his future. Love, friendship, bonds… The fifth volume, titled “Chapter of the Fireflies,” explores the dignity, beauty, and value of human life. Seasons turn, and the cherry blossoms bloom again, bringing back familiar scents to Nanako. All of this is accompanied by the most beautiful “love.”

Volume Five’s “From the staff to all the fans”

Bio:

Riyoko Ikeda Born December 18, Showa 22 (1947). Native of Osaka City. Blood type AB. Graduated from Tokyo Metropolitan Hakutsuru High School and went on to the Philosophy department at Tokyo University of Education (now Tsukuba University). Began drawing manga during her time in school and debuted with “The Girl in the Rose Mansion.” In 1972, she achieved great success with “The Rose of Versailles,” acquiring a broad fan base that transcended the realm of girls’ manga. Known for her keen historical perspective and deep insight into human nature. Active as a writer and essayist as well. Her hobbies include Nihon buyo (Japanese traditional dance), oil painting, movie appreciation, vocal music, piano, cooking, and knitting. Her work has been selected for the 76th Nika Exhibition. Major works: “The Rose of Versailles,” “Window of Orpheus,” “Empress Catherine,” “To My Brother,” “At the Ends of the Sky,” “The Blue Pomegranate,” “My Manga” Books: “If Only Life Could Be Lived Once,” “Women of the French Revolution,” “Women Who Wrote Masterpieces” Currently writing “Eroica” and “Prince Shotoku.”

The letter:

As one who has journeyed far from that radiant chapter called youth, a time that shone with an almost awkward brilliance, I find myself in a peculiar blend of bewilderment and nostalgia. Seeing my old ideas of high school life come to life as animation almost 20 years later is surreal, to say the least. Still, it’s exciting: hearing voices given to these characters, seeing them talk, laugh, and get angry. Watching them come alive is truly a thrilling and satisfying experience. Ah, adolescence — everyone’s inescapable stairway to adulthood. Some people take each step slowly and carefully, while others rush ahead, ending up out of breath or even lost. And then, there are those who may lose their direction, standing still, contemplating each step. Wrapped in the love of family, meeting various people, nurturing friendships, experiencing love, and going through the ups and downs of hurt and forgiveness — it would be wonderful to climb those steps in such a way.

Volume Five’s “Letter to Dear Brother”

Bio:

Rumiko Takahashi Born in Niigata Prefecture. Debuted in 1978 with “Katte na Yatsura,” submitted while still in college, in Shonen Sunday. Famous works include “Urusei Yatsura,” “Maison Ikkoku,” and others. Currently serializing “Ranma 1/2” in Shonen Sunday.

The letter:

A masterpiece infused with the creator’s soul. When I heard from the staff that “Oniisama e…” was getting the anime treatment on satellite TV, I was surprised. I’d delved into the original comic before and it’s quite an eccentric story. “How are they going to pull this off?” I thought. But learning that the script was in the capable hands of my acquaintance Tomoko Konparu, I was very excited. In fact, the anime that aired was genuinely captivating. The characters are so larger-than-life that they electrify the screen the moment they step into frame. It’s been a long time since an anime had that kind of presence. I believe the animation is done by the same people who worked on “Tomorrow’s Joe 2.” The scenes are so visceral that you can almost feel the punches land and see the fighters hit the mat. I kept asking myself, “Why isn”t a mouthpiece flying out?” (laughs) My favorite character in the work is Nobuo Mariko. The scenes where she bites her lip until it turns a flushed red, I find it really cute. But what blew me away was the show’s emotional intelligence. Just when the heroine seems on the brink of breaking, a lifeline is thrown her way. This nuanced touch prevents the darker, more harrowing elements from overwhelming the viewer. It’s as if you can feel the sincerity of the creator throughout the piece.

And that’s it. Again, check out the full scans on Archive.org, and remember to encourage all your friends to experience this beautiful anime!

#oniisama e #dear brother #osamu dezaki #riyoko ikeda #laserdisc #anime #おにいさまへ…#出﨑統 #池田理代子

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subwaysurf45 · 2 years

Text

The Time of the Prey (1)

Summary: The younger sister of the most talked about princess in the kingdoms really can’t do much except smile and nod. When Natasha, your sister, finally goes to moves all of you to Shieldshire to marry her beloved Prince Steve you are left with your art, all alone. But one Knight took it upon himself to keep you company, and that company was all you needed to get through wedding season. Will that company last or will it be ripped away from the both of you? A war is starting and it seems targets are being made.

Pairing: Knight!Bucky x Princess!Reader

Words: 4.4k

Warnings: nothing much, fluff and setting the scene

Series Masterlist II Series Playlist

Smile and nod.

You crouched in front of your trunk and gently placed the clothes you were taking on the trip in, pushing them down to make room for the other dresses you were also packing. The rain pattered against your window as you hummed a tune, though you can’t remember where it was from, it seemed to be the song you hummed most often.

The trunk was made of strong wood with brass hinges and locks, it had been dented and repaired a few times due to your clumsiness. The brass isn’t as strong as gold, you found this out from comparing it to your old sister’s trunk she took on trips; if Natasha, your older sister, would dent the trunk she’d immediately get a new one rather than repair it.

Natasha’s room was also bigger than yours, she had more windows and more vanity space. She had two handmaids as well, which was two more than you. Right now, as you packed she was most likely sitting on her chair and telling her maids what to bring and where to put it, not even lifting a finger. Natasha was most likely sitting with her back straight, holding a mirror as she brushed her red hair. Or she was squealing like a child over another letter from her future husband, Prince Steve.

The door flew open, “let me read you this!” Natasha had run in and jumped on your bed, “it’s a letter from Prince Steve, he’s so excited to see me tomorrow!”

You looked up and smiled at her, nodding your head.

“Well,” Natasha whispered, “can I read it?’

“Sure,” you sighed and continued packing your things.

“My dearest, Natasha- ugh, he’s such a prince,” she gasped, “anyways, my dearest, Natasha. As you know tomorrow is an important day for the two of us, we will finally meet. I receive and read your letters almost every other day, they are the height of my waking moments, but I feel as though nothing will compare to how I’ll feel when I finally see you tomorrow. I’ve been sent small paintings of you and you’ve described what you look like, your red hair will flow like water as we run to each other, I’ll finally feel your warm embrace which is all I’ve ever wanted.” Natasha took a deep breath, “and he finishes with: I’ve been dreaming about this day since I was a child, I can not fathom that this will be true, but I can’t wait to spend my life with you- he’s so poetic…” Natasha sighed and stretched out on your bed, almost as if that letter had taken her breath away in the literal sense.

“That’s a very lovely letter, sister,” you nodded as you finished putting in your clothes.

“When will you marry?” Natasha asked as she sat up, “we are only three years apart and you are of age, what is taking so long?”

“Well, Natasha,” you sighed and sat back on your calves, “mother can only do so much, she is spending her time on you because you are the oldest, I don’t know when I’ll get married but it’s not like it’s going to matter.”

“It will matter,” Natasha scowled, “it will matter to you but not the public.”

“Our entire existence is for the public, Natasha,” you were beginning to get aggravated, “I was not born out of love, I was born out of politics. Knowing that I must do the same makes me sick,” you crossed your arms.

“I find it romantic,” Natasha whispered, “I can’t wait to be a mother and marry Prince Steve, one day I’ll be the queen of Shieldshire,” her eyes drifted away as she daydreamed.

“It’s a mouthful,” you muttered.

“Well, you are obviously sour,” Natasha stood and walked to her door, “I’ll just go talk to mother about princess things because it is obvious you don’t want to be one,” she turned on her heel and quickly left, closing the door behind her.

“Glad someone notices,” you rolled your eyes before closing the truck. Being unladylike was something of a specialty for you, over your life you had found ways to do it behind your mother’s back but still in front of Natasha so she’d lose her temper.

Though your room was small with a window you managed to capitalize on the space on the walls. Your art hung everywhere around your room, with different size canvases and different ways of art filling the space. You had sculpted the head of someone from a sketch you drew, it was the hardest piece but the most fulfilling. Paintings of lakes on royal grounds, the queen’s guard, and the massive ballrooms filled with different people were scattered everywhere. You had made sure to make room for a small palette and canvases, taking out a few dresses which didn’t matter to you.

Tensions were high throughout the royal families, Shieldshire and the Southlands- your land and Prince Steve’s lands -were not fighting at all, the two families that ruled had been allies for years on end, always a safe bet to marry into each other’s family. There hadn’t been a wedding between the Southlands and Shieldshire in many generations, there had been other politics to be taken care of. But Hydra’s Hill and Red River were about to start a war, whispers travelled through every meeting that took place in the throne room at Southlands, you had always been the one to fill Natasha in later.

You didn’t know if it was a land dispute between the two smaller kingdoms or something else that had never been explained before. All you knew was that Red River and Hydra’s Hill never liked one another, never married into each other, and never liked how the little land they had shared a border. There had always been tension but with the number of allies and weddings happening you knew everything was about to snap.

That was why Natasha was going to marry Prince Steve, not because they will fall in love.

But because Shieldshire can provide food to the common folk if a war breaks out.

And Southlands can provide an army.

********

“Thank you,” you muttered to the driver of the carriage as you stepped in, your mother and Natasha were You could hear the two horses that were going to pull the carriage getting antsy, they were stomping their hooves and making the occasional sound. It was a very hot spring day, out of the ordinary for the season but it meant that summer was close. Natasha would get married in late summer, it had always been her favourite time of year. Through the open windows, you could see the buds beginning to show on the trees around the courtyard, you watched as a light breeze moved the thin branches.

“Let’s go!” Natasha cheered as she jumped into the carriage.

“Natasha,” your mother, Lady Melina, scolded as she stepped in, “you can’t be this unladylike when you’re meeting Prince Steve.”

“Sorry mother,” Natasha muttered.

“Y/N,” your mother looked at you, “did you pack your easel and canvases?”

“Yes,” you nodded, you hadn’t packed all of it.

“I got you that trunk for your art supplies, why is it not in the back of the carriage?” Your mother knew that you never wanted to be a princess, she was happy you had fallen so in love with art. She had told you once it was always easier to raise someone who didn’t know they were a princess rather than one who did; though Natasha was her favourite, you were easier to raise.

“There wouldn't be enough room,” you said it like that was common knowledge, shaking your head a little.

“There’s room back there, I’m not bringing a lot.” Lady Melina got the driver's attention, “check the back to see if there’s room, please.”

“There isn’t,” the driver shook his head, “it was hard to close it, there’s a lot of baggage back there, Lady Melina.” the driver walked away with a bow, and soon the carriage began to move.

“How much did you pack?” your mother turned to Natasha, “I hope you know all your gifts will be fabric and dresses, you could have packed nothing and you would have a full wardrobe by the end of the week.”

“I love all my dresses,” Natasha said as she played with her hair, “I couldn’t leave some behind.”

“Yes you could have,” your mother gently smacked her thigh, “very few people are going to gift Y/N anything, you know this,” you didn’t think your mother would get so upset, “art is her favourite thing, you could have left room for her.”

“Mother,” you sighed, “it’s fine.”

“That’s very selfish, Natasha.” your mother rolled her eyes and looked out the window.

You were sitting on your own on one bench, and your mother and Natasha were sitting across from you. No one was talking after your mother’s scolding, you really didn’t think it was that big of a deal because it wasn’t the first time Natasha only thought about herself, she was your big sister who grew up with a spotlight on her, she wanted to keep on her and you couldn’t blame her.

As the country land passed by, you found yourself tuning out the muttered conversation between Natasha and your mother, Natasha had asked a question which lead to a civil conversation. There were a few farms as you passed, people recognized a royal carriage and waved as you passed, and you leaned out the window and waved back.

The driver leaned over, “there’s a farmer up ahead with food, should I stop?”

“Yes!” you yelled, turning around to see the driver.

The carriage came to a stop and you leaned out the window, waving the farmer over.

“H-hello, your royalty,” he was very shy and his daughter was hugging his leg, “we heard you were coming down this path, I-I have some fruits if you’d like?” he held up a small basket, “you don’t need to take any, just thanks for all you’ve for us folk on the farms, thank you, Lady Melina.” your mother was the one who made the laws for your kingdom.

“Of course,” she smiled and took the basket into the carriage, “thank you for your hard work, sir.”

You and Natasha smiled, you leaned over and looked at the small girl who was still very shy, “what’s your name?”

She slowly looked up, “m-my name is Betty.”

My grandmother, you thought, “such a pretty name.”

Soon enough you were back on the road, making your way to Shieldshire with food to keep you all awake. You sketched in the book you brought in the carriage, trying to capture the budding trees and clouds in the sky. Your mother was stitching while Natasha sat and was still with only her hands rubbing one another.

You knew she was nervous, her time writing to Prince Steve was over and now she had to meet him in real life, which would make anyone nervous.

“So, Natasha,” you placed your book down, “what colour do you think the curtains in your room will be?” it was a very specific question but making her think about something else while relating it back to the castle would calm her down.

She just looked at you for a moment, “maybe a dark red?” she asked, “I will have to see what the inside looks like, if it’s a light grey stone then it will be dark red but if it’s dark grey stones than I don’t know what it would be, they shouldn’t have too many darks.”

“But you will like it all the same,” your mother chimed in.

“We know,” you spoke for Natasha, “she will love everything, Natasha is beyond excited, the colour of the curtain won’t make her run back to the carriage, I’m just…” you twirled your hand around to try and find the word, “distracting her from being stressed out, mother.” you quickly glanced at Natasha and she nodded towards you with a smile, she might be a hassle but she was still your sister.

As the castle began to show on the horizon Natasha became extremely nervous, constantly asking if any hairs were out of place or if her makeup had smudged anywhere. You stayed calm, telling her she was beautiful as always. Your mother stayed composed as well, sitting there like nothing was happening.

When the carriage turned into the courtyard you leaned over and grabbed Natasha’s hand, “you’ll make a great wife, Natasha, Prince Steve is lucky to have you.”

Natasha nodded, a smile growing on her face. Before the carriage stopped Natasha jumped out of the car, running with her arms wide to meet the man who stood at the top of the steps. He was also running down to meet her, a smile wide on his face. When they met they embraced for a while, swaying in the middle of the massive staircase to their castle.

With the number of letters Natasha had read to you, Prince Steve was a pretty decent match to his descriptions. He was taller than her with short blond hair that curved to one side at the front, you could see his blue eyes from the carriage. He was dressed in his nicest clothes, a heavily detailed tunic with form-fitting pants as well.

As you opened the carriage door your mother grabbed your wrist, “I know you are younger than her,” she spoke quietly, “but you are wiser, I also know you do not wish to participate in the…political act of getting married,” she looked out the window again to see Natasha and Prince Steve waiting for the two of you, “just tell me if anyone meets your eye.”

You smiled and nodded before getting out of the carriage, helping your mother out as well. Both of you took your time as you walked up the step, your hands gently holding your skirt up to make sure you didn’t embarrass yourself in front of Natasha’s suitor.

“Lady Melina,” Prince Steve slightly bowed his head, “it is beyond a pleasure to finally meet you and your daughter. And you, Princess Y/N.”

“The honour is mine,” you spoke as if it was second nature; because it was.

As the Prince talked you looked around the setting, seeing six knights standing by the entrance, three on either side. They all had their helmets off and did not wear armour, just their sword on their belt. The only reason you knew they were knights was that they wore chainmail over a tunic with the family crest on it, an eagle. After scanning the knights once you looked at the height and intricacy of the castle, seeing its massive towers and flag.

You didn’t look for too long because the hair on the back of your neck stood up, the feelings of eyes on you weren’t new, but the intensity of the stare was. You looked over your shoulder to see the carriage driver working with the servant of Shieldshire to bring in the many trunks your sister had packed, when you looked forward again your mother had her arm out, a sign for you to take it.

“Are you alright?” she whispered as Natasha and Prince Steve walked in front of them.

“Yes,” you patted her hand, “don’t worry about me.”

Before you walked into the castle the feeling intensified, your eyes feeling the tug to look to your left. You had finally found the source, the third knight was looking at you. When he noticed you spotted him the knight slowly blinked and bowed his head, a gentle hello. You did the same and couldn't help but smile a little.

The knight stood tall, his long brown hair falling to his shoulders. His eyes were like crashing waves, pulling you in. you didn’t get a good look at his face but you saw enough to know he was your type, strong and beautiful. When you looked over your shoulder before the door closed you caught his eyes again, this time he had a smirk on his face before you looked at him.

When you looked forward a gasp left your body without thinking. The castle was grand and beautiful, you had always known your castle was on the smaller side but compared to this beast of a building your home looked like a shack.

The first and main room you walked into was open, there were benches everywhere with people walking around. It seemed as though common folk of the higher class could come and go as they please, there were knights at every corner and doorway. The walls were textured and carefully placed with light grey stones, as you walked around the outside of the common room your hand felt the wall as you looked up to the tremendously high ceiling. Each window in the common room was made of different shards of stained glass, casting colourful shadows below it. As you walked on the reflection of the ground a laugh escaped your lips, no one was paying attention to you so you jumped from each chunk of red reflection to another. There were red, blue, green, and yellow shards placed together to make an oval window.

Most of the guards stayed in the common room once you passed through the threshold to the royal areas. Each room seemed to be larger than the one before, the throne room was massive.

“Weddings, funerals, any celebration is held in here,” Prince Steve said as he looked at Natasha, “most of the space goes unused but when there is something to celebrate we seem to feel squeezed.”

“I bet it will feel that way when we marry,” Natasha said to Prince Steve, “so many people,” she gasped to herself. “Can't you believe it, Y/N?” she turned to ask you but you were elsewhere, still in the same room as Natasha but your mind had wandered.

“Y/N,” your mother scolded, “listen to your sister.”

“Sorry, mother,” you bowed slightly and looked at Natasha who repeated what she said, “yes, your wedding will be grand, I can’t wait to see you walk down the aisle.”

When Natasha looked content with your answer you went back to looking at the small details of the room, I could paint this, you thought to yourself. Though most of the flooring was grey and stone you found everything was so different. The floor was sleek and had such shine you thought they were wet, the walls were still textured you bet you could paint the way they felt. Behind the golden throne, there were three massive stained glass windows, casting colourful light everywhere in the open space.

“The windows-” you began to ask but found no one was listening, your mother and sister were walking towards the throne and the knights followed Prince Steve and Princess Natasha.

“What were you saying?” a voice came from behind you.

You turned around to see the same knight who smiled at you before, his chain mail slightly rustling as he leaned down to whisper. When he was up close you could see a few scars on his face, one ran right above his eyebrow. His smile was shining, you could see his slightly crooked teeth.

“The stained glass,” you pointed around, “it’s beautiful.”

“Yes it is,” he nodded and stood tall, “they’re all around the castle, your chambers will have a window.” he walked with the group, “you are Princess Natasha’s younger sister, am I correct?”

“Yes I am,” you slightly bowed, it was second nature. “You are, Ser…?”

“James,” he quickly filled in the question, “Ser James.”

“I am Y/N,” you smiled at him, looking forward for a second to make sure you were still with the group.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Princess Y/N.”

“Thank you,” you looked down for a moment, his gaze was too intense.

You walked with the group as Prince Steve showed off the rest of the castle, eventually, he and Natasha broke apart from the group and left their handmaids and knights to escort you and your mother to their quarters. Two knights left and walked with Prince Steve and Natasha, two went with your mother, Ser James was the only one left with you; as well as a handmaid.

“Wait here, I'll find another guard,” James was about to walk away but you quickly stopped him, grabbing his wrist.

“I don’t need an escort, I’ll be fine with you and…” you looked at the handmaid.

“Bellona,” she squeaked.

“Bellona,” you repeated, “I’m awfully tired and I want to explore.”

Ser James just nodded his head and began to walk in an opposite direction than where your mother or Natasha went, he took a few turns before heading up the stairs. Bellona was walking behind you and Ser James was in front of you, he kept looking back to make sure you were still with him.

When you reached your room he opened the door for you, letting you walk in and take in the room. It was bigger than the one at home, the first thing you noticed was the stained glass window. You quickly walked up to it and pressed your hand against the blue shard, and then the yellow, and then the green.

“They really are everywhere,” you whispered.

“I do not lie,” Ser James took a step in.

“I never said you did,” you turned around a smirked, “why don’t you Knights wear normal shiny armour all the time?”

“Because,” Ser James shrugged, “Shieldshire is very…relaxed when it comes to formality, if we were being attacked I would be ready in less than five minutes.”

“But what if five minutes is too long?” you walked over to him, taking your sketchbook from Bellona who picked it up from the carriage.

“Then I will be dead,” Ser James looked above your head, checking the room, “I would have died in honour of the castle.”

“And you’re okay with that?” you asked, wondering how someone could.

“You don’t need to know that answer,” his eyes flicked down to you, “are you satisfied with the room, Princess?” his tone had turned sharp, you had been royal all your life and you knew when someone turned to extra formality they were upset.

“I-” you placed a hand on your chest, “I’m sorry, I said too much.” you shook your head, “I shouldn’t have asked that, my apologies, Ser James.”

“That’s alright,” he tilted his head to look down at you, “you’re forgiven,” but you didn’t know for sure, “the rest of your baggage will be brought up soon, is there anything else you need?”

“Just need to make sure you aren’t mad?” you asked slowly, trying to break out a smile to see if he will copy you.

A breathy laugh escaped his lips, his eyes travelled up and around before coming back down to you, “do not worry yourself, I am not cross,” you giggled at the word ‘cross’, “what?” he laughed, showing the creases near his eyes.

“You sound like my mother,” you laughed.

“She’s one scary woman,” he muttered out of the corner of his mouth, his face dropped, “don’t tell her I said that, please.”

“Let's just act this like conversation never happened, I didn’t step on your toes and you didn’t insult my mother, agreed, Ser James?” you stuck out your hand.

“Agreed, Princes Y/N,” he took your hand and shook it, “and you don’t need to have the Ser, by the way, call me Bucky.”

“Then don’t call me Princess,” you tilted your head to the side.

All he could do was give a bashful smile, “have a nice night, Princess Y/N.”

“And you, Ser James.”

When the door closed and you were left alone in your room, Bellona was nowhere to be found, you twirled around for a moment, letting out all the feelings you were trying to keep hidden in front of James. He was a very attractive man and when he talked to you it sent shivers down your spine, he looked at you in a way no one had; he actually saw you.

After jumping up and down a few times with a squeal you jumped onto the large bed in your room, hugging yourself as you closed your eyes and replayed the conversation again. His smile and his laugh, the way he held your hand when he shook it. Part of you wanted to run and tell Natasha but you also knew she was probably drooling after her actual suitor.

Your room had light stone walls without any curtains because the stained glass deflected some of the light. The bedding was a light yellow colour with poles sticking upon each of the four corners of the bed, holding up a cover on your bed which had light yellow hanging off of it; giving you some sort of cover if you chose to let it fall to the ground. Your clothes hadn’t been brought up but they would go in the large cabinet which would be your closet, there were already three dresses waiting for you; Natasha probably had ten waiting for her. The vanity was a sleek piece of wood that looked to be stained to make it look darker, there was a mirror with a very intricate gold frame. A few makeup products sat on the desk as well as a hairbrush.

“Here are your things, Princess Y/N,” someone had walked in with your trunk, “I was told to let you know your art supplies are in transport now, Lady Melina asked me to tell you,” you nodded as you opened the trunk, “there are also shoppes and vendors very close to the castle walls if you so chose to see them.”

“Will I need to be accompanied?” you asked.

“No,” he shook his head, “the vendors are close enough you would be in a guard's eyesight all the time if you’d like a guard with you and I can arrange that.”

“I’ll be fine, thank you though,” you smiled.

“Of course, Princess Y/N.”

When he left you fell back on your head, falling hard enough that the silk of the left side of the canopy fell down and touched the ground. You knocked the others down and laid on your bed in your own little world, holding your hands to your chest as you went back to thinking about Ser James. A smile slowly grew on your lips as you thought of what your mother said.

“Just tell me if anyone meets your eye.”

EPISODE 2

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ashtrayfloors · 1 year

Text

I’m not obsessively tagging this one, so just a few content warnings: there’s nothing graphic, but there’s some TMI stuff about sex and masturbation; talk of food and alcohol; discussion of grief, death, and illness; and a brief mention of transphobic/transmedicalist stuff. Also it might come across like I’m bragging about some compliments I’ve gotten for my writing recently. Also it’s long.

This is a really long entry, because I started writing it like, ten days ago, but then more stuff happened. This is a common thing for me, with letters and journal entries; I start writing them but don’t have time to finish, then more stuff happens, and I start adding the new stuff, but don’t have time to finish, and then more stuff happens and…you get the idea.

Anyway, these past two weeks have been jam-packed. There’s been a lot of luck & magic & beauty, with some hard stuff mixed in. (That’s life, that’s what all the people say…)

…

The evening of Thursday the 16th, I sent the ‘Mats-inspired vignettes to the editor of a zine I thought it’d be perfect for. Friday morning, I opened my email, and read his response. He loves it, and wants to run it in the next issue. He said I “perfectly captured that lonely midwestern feeling that certain Replacements songs have,” and that my writing is “romantic, but also real, like Kerouac mixed with Cometbus.” And if you know me at all, you know why I practically swooned over those particular compliments.

I also got an email saying our local library’s free seed library was newly restocked for the year, and I wanted to get there before it was all picked over. So, C. and I went to the library and picked up seeds for this year’s garden, along with an info packet on where and when to plant everything. We got seeds for: cayenne and poblano peppers; pickling cucumbers; spinach, mustard greens, collard greens, and kale; eggplant, squash, broccoli; Roma and Wisconsin organic (heirloom) tomatoes; carrots, and radishes. I’m so excited. Last year’s garden was our most successful ever, but we also made a couple mistakes which we learned from, so I’m thinking this year’s garden might be even better.

After that, C. and I popped over to my friend D.’s house. We got to meet his new pitbull-mix, Leonard, who is less than a year old and is therefore super high-energy, but so sweet. And we got to see their two-week-old foster kittens (and their mama), and C. even got to pet one! D. also gave me some cayenne and habanero, which he grew in his garden last year, then dried and ground—he’s been giving it to anyone who wants some, as he grew so many peppers that he can’t possibly use it all. (He also offered me some Carolina Reaper, but I passed on that.) I told him if there was ever anything I could give him in trade, to let me know, and he said: “Just listening to your spoken world album is trade enough,” and went on to say that he’s in awe of my poetic abilities.

All these compliments, a guy could get a big head! Except, I often think my writing is okay at best and I should just quit; when I get compliments like those it just offsets that and makes me realize that if other people are getting something from what I write, I should keep going.

Our last stop was the grocery store, where I got the rest of what I needed for the Dublin coddle, and got my flirt on with a beautiful redhead girl.

I had thought about putting green dye in my hair and painting my nails green for St. Paddy’s Day, but after all that running about town, I didn’t have time. I did, however, put my hair in braids (it’s long enough to braid now!), and put on green eyeliner.

I spent the next while putting together the Dublin coddle and getting it into the oven. I listened to the St. Patrick’s Day mix I listen to every year, then I listened to Hozier’s new EP, which holy fuck, I am trying so hard to be normal about, but it’s difficult. I truly wish I had a close friend who was into Hozier that I could nerd out about it with. Then I made a cup of tea and sat out in the backyard for a bit. One of the neighborhood crows came and lit on the fence, and it was cawing loudly about something. I asked it what was wrong, and we had a little ‘conversation.’

Me: “What is it, what’s wrong?” Crow: *cocks its head from side to side* caw caw. Me: “I’m sorry, I can’t help you with that.” Crow: squirrr-wakkk. Me: “I’m sure it will turn out fine.”

Funnily enough, the crow quieted down after that, stayed there for a while looking at me, then flew off.

It was really windy that day. To paraphrase myself: the wind, my lover, had returned, so I flirted with him a bit.

In the evening, I drank a pint of Guinness and a small glass of Jameson. In the old days, I would have easily downed three pints of stout and at least half a bottle of whiskey, not even because it was St. Patrick’s Day, but because it was a day, and to paraphrase myself, again—if you’re really Irish, you don’t need an excuse to get drunk. But I don’t do that anymore. The thing I do still do is get nostalgically sad (sadly nostalgic?) about old flames, and I had a few moments of that on St. Paddy’s Night. I found myself missing Ruby, and Jack of Spades, who I always miss most at this time of year; and Derry, whom I miss all the time, but always hardest in the spring and fall.

And then I emailed Derry. When I saw him back in October, I told him why I never respond to his periodic emails. And since then, he hasn’t emailed me; we left each other with the ball in my court, with it being up to me if I wanted to ever be in contact with him again. I probably shouldn’t have. I wasn’t even drunk, so I didn’t have that as an excuse. My only excuses are that I miss him so, so, so much, and I’m addicted to bad ideas.

Then P. and the kiddos and I watched Darby O’Gill and the Little People, which I hadn’t seen since I was a child. The movie left an indelible impression on me when I was a kid, though—I was deeply, deeply terrified of the banshee. Watching it the other night, I was no longer afraid, but I do understand why it scared me so back then. The sound she makes is absolutely bone-chilling.

…

Saturday, the temperature dropped, drastically—it was the coldest day we’ve had in weeks, felt more like midwinter again—but we braved the cold to go downtown and see the St. Paddy’s Day parade. It’s a small parade, even smaller this year because some people dropped out due to the weather, but it was still nice. A marching band started it off with a rendition of “Whiskey in the Jar.” One of the bars on Main Street was selling drinks, both alcoholic and non, in to-go cups, so you could grab one and take it outside while you watched the parade. P. and I both got Irish coffees, the kids got hot chocolate. The kids grabbed handfuls of candy and green plastic beads that some of the floats were tossing to the crowd. I sipped from my drink, and half-watched the parade, half-watched the other spectators.

There was a super sexy man standing near us. He was fat and also just big, like over six feet tall. He had a long, gray beard, but it was a very well-kept long beard, not ratty or dirty in any way. He was wearing a black beanie, a black leather jacket, an Irish kilt (with the tartan for County Derry; yes, I looked it up when I got home), and these tall, intricately patterned leather boots. I guess he caught me lookin’, cuz he fucking winked at me, and then I blushed so hard that my face felt hot despite the cold. Jaysis.

The best parts of the parade were the Root River Rollers (our local roller derby team; they looked hella cute in their green plaid skirts and black leggings and derby gear; I have a major thing for derby girls and have for a very long time); the float from McAuliffe’s Pub (they had someone on fiddle and someone on bodhrán, playing a reel); the pirates of Will’s Revenge (they’re a local group who cosplay as pirates for various events, I always love them, but this time they’d added little Irish touches for St. Paddy’s; of course I thought of B. saying of me all those years ago: …you’re and Irish pirate, that’s the best kind); and the girls from a local dance school (they were wearing black hoodies and black leggings and sparkly green tutus; they did a wildly impressive hiphopjazz dance routine).

Later that day, I made some minor edits on my ‘Mats vignettes (at the editor’s suggestion), while listening to The ‘Mats, and “Treatment Bound” came on and for the first time it hit me how much it sounded like some of my old friend L.’s music. I mean, I knew he was a Replacements fan, but it had honestly never hit me until then how much his sound was influenced by some of their stuff. Particularly the stuff off Hootenanny. And then I sat around missing L. for a while. I’ve written about him a lot before. He was one of those friends I had an intense crush on, and I thought I wanted to smooch him or maybe even bone him, but the most we ever did was cuddle/spoon. And then I realized it was better that way; I could get really close to him without worrying about sex making it weird. And then years later, I realized I never had actually wanted to fuck him, I had wanted to be him (or, well, be more like him, anyway). He had such a huge impact on my writing, my music, my life. We never had a falling out, just lost touch, got busy with our separate lives, never ran into each other anymore. The usual. I think of him often, though, and decided to web-search him the other day just so see what he’s up to. I found out that all his albums are now up on Bandcamp, and I’m so excited, because I lost my copies of them ages ago, and I love his music so much.

…

The next day was warmer again, though still windy. I took a long walk by myself. I trysted with the wind, again; he yanked my hair and slapped my cheeks pink. I walked down to the Little Free Library that’s in my neighborhood; I’ve found some great stuff in it before, and it had been months since I’d checked it. This time, I found nothing. I did, however, spot a tow truck with the words Anywhere and Anytime on it, and I snapped a picture. It seemed like a good sign, as the title of my ‘Mats memoir series is Anyplace or Anywhere or Anytime.

When I got home from the walk, I spent the rest of the afternoon writing.

…

Monday, I woke up and got the bullshit stuff I had to do but had been dreading/putting off out of the way first. I am not always able to do that, but the Executive Function fairy truly blessed me that day. Then I did school stuff with the kids. It was warm enough that we could do a (partially) outdoor science experiment. First, the kids designed protective casing for eggs, then we took them out in the backyard and dropped them from various heights to see how far they could drop without breaking. We even recorded our results! It was a lot of fun.

After that, I did some witchy stuff to celebrate the first day of spring. I redecorated my altar, lit some incense, did a little spell/ritual. Then I did a Spring Equinox tarot reading for myself, and it was so clear and right-on that I reached out to Emchy and was like: “Hey, the cards are really talking to me today, want me to pull a few for you?” She said yes, so I did.

Later in the afternoon, I took another solo walk. This time I took photos of some of the sidewalk date stamps in my neighborhood. I also spotted the first crocus of the season, and snapped photos of those. Trysted with the wind again. Sang (quietly, but out loud) as I walked—first Jolie Holland’s “Springtime Can Kill You” (because it is one of my all-time favorite songs), then the Counting Crows’ “Sullivan Street” (because I’d thought of something ‘hanging on the air,’ and it made me think of that song).

When I got home, I wrote a short poem, and then I started working on translating it into Gaeilge. I find that when I’m learning a new language, translating my words/thoughts from English into said language helps.

After that, I checked my email. There was one from Derry; his response to the email I’d sent on St. Patrick’s Day. I am not going to quote from it directly, not here; some things have to be kept just for me. Suffice it to say: we’re not trying to hook up or get together or start things all over again, but we’re mutually unsure where that leaves us; he misses and loves me just as much as I do him.

P. and I made dinner together that night. He made the sides and I made the main dish. We’d already planned on making roasted potatoes with dijon and rosemary (because we already had all the ingredients) and green beans with onions and bacon (because we already had the bacon and onions); we’d already decided to have pork chops as the main dish. But the night before I got a craving for French food, so that morning I looked up “French pork chops,” and found a recipe for pan-cooked pork chops with paprika, in an onion-dijon cream sauce. It was amazing.

We finished off the night by having passionate sex. It was a perfect ending to the first day of spring.

…

Tuesday was kinda crappy. The kids were cranky, and I had some unspecified physical yuck happening; my stomach hurt and I was just exhausted the whole day. But I managed to take another walk, this time with C. And it was World Poetry Day, so I read some poetry and worked more on my translation.

…

Wednesday was a happysad day. It was the ten year anniversary of my grandma’s death, so of course I was thinking about her. I was also thinking about Jason Molina. The 18th had been the ten year anniversary of his death, and my grief over losing my grandma is inextricably bound up with my grief over Jason Molina’s death. When my grandma got seriously ill, and we knew she wasn’t going to live much longer, I was deeply depressed, and I was listening to a lot of Songs: Ohia and Magnolia Electric Co. at the time, and then Jason died, and four days later my grandma died, so yeah, they’re always linked in my mind.

Wednesday was also my dad’s birthday. I wrote a birthday poem for him, and collaged a card to put it in. In the afternoon, P. and I went to a local job fair and found out about some potential employment opportunities for him. Fingers crossed that one of them pans out, because they’re pretty good ones. As we were leaving the job fair, we saw a seagull and a hawk fighting. Then we and the kiddos went to my folks’ house to celebrate my dad’s birthday. We had a nice dinner and some cake, and I gave my dad the card I’d made.

My mom and I reminisced about my grandma (her mom). Then she told me about an old friend of the family who is battling a serious illness. Later, Joni Mitchell came up in conversation, and my mom and I were talking about Joni and her music, and the memories we have attached to it—for both of us, Joni’s songs specifically remind us of being in our twenties. So we were both in our feelings about my grandma and the old family friend and our own pasts and Joni’s music, and we listened to “River” and cried a little together, and it was probably the closest I’ve felt to my mom in a long while.

Later that night, as I lay in the dark trying to fall asleep, I heard coyotes yipping as they wandered through the neighborhood.

…

Thursday, the kids were in bad moods again, and I was feeling anxious about various stuff. But I managed to get past it. I read some, made a collage, drank some tea. I signed up for a temporary money-making side gig. I finished writing/editing the poem about the time Ali and I visited Nancy Spungen’s grave; I have been working on it on-and-off for years, and I’m glad to finally have it in a place where I feel like it’s ready to be out in the world.

Then I watched the crows in the yard. That crow I talked to on St. Patrick’s Day? It returned, and brought its mate, and they are building a nest in the tree that hangs partially over our yard! Maybe that’s what it was making a racket about the first time; maybe it was scouting locations for a nest and was trying to get its mate to come see? In any case, we’re gonna have crow neighbors, and they’re gonna start a family! Oh my god, there are gonna be baby crows! The crows in the area are probably already familiar with me, because I have left out food for them before, and said hello when I’ve been near them; and I’m very glad that my talking to one of them the other day did not deter them from building their nest in/near our yard. (I’ve now started leaving peanuts for them in the backyard, since at least this pair has been coming around that side more often, and they’ve been back every day, but more about that later.)

Thursday night, I had a dream about my old friend J.C. I’ve known him since I was in the sixth grade, and we’ve been in and out of each other’s lives since (again, no falling out, just life drifting us apart), but I haven’t seen him in almost fourteen years now. It was good to see him in the dream, though, and I hope he’s doing well.

…

Friday, I spent most of the day getting ready for that evening’s spoken word gig. I collated zines, gathered together all the merch I wanted to take with me. I gathered together the poems I might want to read; timed a few newer ones/ones I’d never performed at a reading before. I drove to the bank downtown; to get some cash in various smaller denominations of bills, so I’d have change to give when people bought my merch. At one point on the drive, I was behind a car, and I noticed one of their bumper stickers: the background was the pride flag, and the text over it read Make America Gay Again. Awesome. Back at home, I started enacting even more pre-event rituals. (I say ‘event’ because I have long enacted some or all of these rituals whether it’s a spoken word gig, a music gig, a zine fest, an art show, a burlesque performance, a circus performance, etc. etc. Basically, I enact some or all of these rituals, or other, similar ones, whenever I have any kind of event where I’m performing and/or selling stuff, whether it’s in-person or online.) I cut the sleeves off my Keep Books Dangerous tee (a sure sign of spring for me, cutting the sleeves off a t-shirt), and changed out/added to the pins on my leather jacket. I freshened the color in my hair. I did all this while summoning the Undying Spirit of Punk Rock, by blasting the Daycare Swindlers.

Listening to the DC Swindlers of course made me think of N., as he was the lead singer of that band. I know I’ve written about him before, but I was hit with a wave of missing him so hard on Friday. We were platonic soulmates. I was never sexually or romantically attracted to him; as far as I know he was never into me that way either. (In fact I had a huge crush on his girlfriend!) But we just clicked; from the first time we met we had people saying we were like twins. We didn’t look anything alike, but there was just something about us. The way we dressed, our predilections, obviously our taste in women; just our general vibes. Twins. Soulmates. Because not all soulmates are romantic or sexual in nature; in fact, for as many romantic/sexual partners as I’ve had, I’ve had far more platonic soulmates.

Other rituals I enacted pre-gig were putting on my necklace of charms and dabbing a bit of the “Follow Me, Boy” scent on my pulse points.

P. actually got to come with me for once, which was amazing. I’ve said before that my parents are real weird about watching the kids, but this time they offered so P. could go with me, and of course I jumped at the chance.

At about five, we dropped the kiddos at my parents house, then headed north/west, to the far west side of Milwaukee, right on the border of Wauwatosa. Drove up on old familiar roads, saw some excellent graffiti. Parked near the gallery where my reading was, in front of a beautiful soft-yellow house with a pride flag hung from their porch, and a sign in the yard: We Back the Vag. Again, awesome.

The gallery was great, full of funky-cool art. Everyone that worked there was super friendly, so were all the other performers (both featured and open mic). At least half the people there, performers and audience, were some flavor of queer, and there were also several POC and several Jewish people! (I know that last part for a fact because a few of the poets read pieces that mentioned Judaism/being Jewish.) I felt so comfortable and happy. Like, obviously, as a queer person, I get tired of being around only cishets; but even as a white goy, I also get tired of being around only white, (culturally) Christian folks. I guess I just spent enough of my life in big cities and other diverse spaces that I am actually less at ease when everyone looks like me and/or has a similar cultural background. And it’s just fucking boring, ya know? Why would I only wanna be around people who look and act like me?!

Soon after we arrived at the gallery, I was setting up my merch, and the queer kid (I say ‘kid’ because they were in their early 20s, which, now that I’m in my 40s, is definitely in ‘kid’ territory for me) who was the musician for the evening saw my spoken word album—Self Portrait with Ghosts & Trains. “That’s definitely something I would listen to,” they said. “I like ghosts, I like trains.” Pause. “Damn, too bad I only know one train song. I mean, I only know how to play one train song. I know lots of train songs in general.” I told them that I’d made a playlist of train songs a few years ago, and that even though I’d spent time narrowing it down from the original list, it still had 50+ songs on it. “Have you ever seen Metalocalypse?” They asked. “How come all they sings about is trains?” I replied. “That is actually the name of my train song playlist, no kidding.” They laughed, said, “What else is there, really?,” and then we fist bumped.

Then it was time for the open mic part of the evening, and the other featured poet-performers. All of the other poet-performers were really good, in their own ways. Some of them were just good all around, both poetry-wise and performance-wise. Others were not my jam, poetry-wise, but performed their stuff really well. And still others were people whose poems were fantastic but who were fairly new to performing; I know that if they keep at it they will be absolute fire in the not-too-distant future.

Then it was my turn. I opened my set with a poem that is not my own. See, it would have been Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s 104th birthday that day, so I opened with “See, it was like this, when…” Then I did a bit of improv. What I mean by that is—I had brought way more poems with me than I could feasibly read, and I had a couple I knew I for sure wanted to read but for the rest it was like, I’ll just go with what I’m vibing with at the time. And some of the other performers inspired some of my choices. One of the poets read some of their sonnets, so I read two of my sonnets; one of the performers opened with an a capella rendition of “Cabaret,” so I read my Cabaret-inspired poem. I also read two of my Wisconsin poems—a Milwaukee one, and my Beast of Bray Road poem; an excerpt from The Loneliest Show On Earth; and the poem about visiting Nancy’s grave. The crowd was so, so attentive and responsive. Like, they were there to hear poetry. I heard some laughter during parts of some of my poems (not laughing at, laughing with), and also some gasps and ohs. Afterward, I got so many compliments. I mean, people were telling me my stuff was funny but also moving, or saying it was like I cast a spell, saying they got chills at certain points; someone noticed the Diane Di Prima influence on my work, someone else noticed the Lynda Hull influence…god damn. I sold some stuff and got a cut of the door, and it was enough to cover my gas money to and from the gig and still have like thirty bucks left over; gotta love that sweet, sweet poetry money. (To quote myself: How no one warned you it’s hard to make a living writing about your heart. How you don’t make a living, but you sometimes make enough money for wine.) I also got approached by the guy who runs the weekly Poetry Nights at Linneman’s River West Inn, and he wants me to be the featured poet there sometime in July or August. I’m so excited! I haven’t been to Linneman’s since early 2009, but back when I lived in MKE I used to perform there all the time—though back then, I performed on the music open mic nights, as that’s when I was more focused on music than poetry. Speaking of music—when the kid I’d talked to earlier in the evening got up for their set, they played the one train song they knew how to play—“Freight Train,” by Elizabeth Cotten—and dedicated it to me. My heart.

P. and I left, then crossed the border into ‘Tosa, and got a round at a beer & whiskey bar called Draft & Vessel. I had an imperial stout that had chai spices in it, and it was so fuckin’ good.

On the drive home, I got to experience that magical thing that happens on the road at night. You know, where you look down at your lap, and the lights coming in through the windshield from above have striated your skin and clothing, and as you move the stripes move, moving stripes of light/shadow/light/shadow. I wish I could think of a better way to describe it; if I can, I’m going to put it in a poem.

…

Saturday we got a bunch of snow. Early spring snow is not uncommon in the upper midwest—in the immortal words of Prince: sometimes it snows in April. And anyway, we had nowhere we needed to be that day, so we just had a cozy-at-home, creative day. P. and I made meal plans for the coming week. I wrote a bit. I made a necklace, inspired by some I’d seen at the gallery and couldn’t afford. I took some knolling photos of my bottlecap, key, and souvenir penny collections; for no other reason than that I felt like it. I recorded an audio version of my VU-inspired poem from Left of the Dial.

My knee and ankle were hurting all day. The poetry reading had been packed full and there were only about eight chairs available, and there were people in their sixties and seventies there, and I never think of my disabilities as real enough, so I gave the chairs to those I thought needed them more, and I stood the whole time. And yeah, I paid for it, bodily. It sucked to be in pain all the next day, but I did kind of chuckle at the “I’m getting old”-ness of it all. Like, I used to go wild in the pit at punk shows and maybe I’d get banged up and sore but I’d be mostly okay (with the notable exception being that time I broke my ankle in the pit), and now I stand for a couple hours at a poetry reading and I’m in pain for days.

I thought of Sinclair, another old flame, that day; possibly because of that kid playing “Freight Train” the night before, as that was a staple of Sinclair’s repertoire. I haven’t seen or spoken to him in somewhere close to 14 years now, and I haven’t even web-searched him in a decade. Unlike with some of my other exes, it’s not that I fear I’ll decide to contact him and open everything up again, it’s that— Well, I’ve worried that he might be dead or in prison. He was a sweetheart, genuinely one of the best, kindest people I’ve ever known—but he was also an outlaw, and he lived a rough life. He was a queer train-hopping hobo/crusty/circus performer/musician; he was often homeless, and had bouts of trouble with the law and various addictions. Saturday, I decided to look him up to see what I could find…and I was relieved to know that he’s not just living but seemingly thriving, back in his hometown of New Orleans, where he just had a music gig on March 23rd. I’m so relieved. Just knowing that he’s out there, still doin’ his thing, is enough for me.

That night, P. and I had hot, wild, rough sex, and I fell asleep more easily than I normally do. Unfortunately, I did have a terrible dream that woke me up in the middle of the night, and then it took me hours to get back to sleep. I don’t even want to go into detail about it because it was so gruesome and bloody and involved terrible bodily harm being visited on some of my loved ones, including one of my kids. I actually had to go into D.’s room and make sure he was okay, and sit watching him breathe for a while, before I could calm down at all. I don’t have vivid, horrific dreams as much now as I did when I was in my teens and twenties, but when they come? They’re fucking doozies. A lot of horror doesn’t even scare me because I’ve had dreams that were just as graphic, but even worse, because the harm was being visited on me and/or people I love.

…

Sunday, I woke up to the notification that someone had bought some stuff from my online shop, which is always a nice thing to wake up to.

Later in the morning, it snowed a little more, and I saw the crows again. And this time, they’d brought a friend. My first thought was: “They’re a polycule!” Which, okay, I know crows don’t work that way, but I recently read something that said crows are ‘socially monogamous but genetically promiscuous’ so maybe? In any case, they were with a third crow; probably another member of their murder. And they were playing! I watched them leap down from the tree to the top of the neighbors’ garage roof, then slide to the bottom edge near the eaves, from which they’d fly back up to the tree and do it all over again. I was so fucking thrilled; I’ve seen videos of crows playing before, but I’ve never seen it so clearly in person. I wanted to get my own video, but of course by the time I got my phone and got ready to record, they’d stopped. I know, pics or it didn’t happen, but this has just been one of the many amazing things I’ve witnessed or experienced in my life where I do not have any ‘factual’ documentation, and it doesn’t even matter because I know it happened and it lives inside me, now.

In the late afternoon, D. had the worst meltdown he’s had in a while. His anger is getting worse as he edges towards adolescence, but at least now he has a therapist that can help us through it.

For dinner, P. made shrimp, pork, and andouille jambalaya, with a side of greens. We had sex again that night; this time, it was slow, lazy, and deeply sensual.

…

Monday morning, D. had his therapy appointment, then I did schoolwork with the kiddos. Then I got dinner going in the crockpot (one of my favorite go-to meals: Moroccan chicken tagine with chickpeas and apricots) while listening to my favorite radio station; they played banger after banger after banger, and I discovered a bunch of new (to me) favorite songs.

Monday evening, before dinner, we filed our taxes. We’re not getting back as much as I’d hoped (because the fucking Republicans decided to axe the expanded Child Tax Credit), but we’re still getting enough that it will make a positive difference in our lives over the next couple months.

That night, we had sex; wild and hot and fast again, that time.

…

Despite all the sex we’ve been having, I woke up ridiculously horny on Tuesday. I was also really restless and a little bit anxious, but I had to do all this sitting-at-my-desk bullshit like attending the Zoom training session for my new side gig, and applying for energy assistance. In between sit-down tasks, I worked through my restless, horny energy by either pacing around or jacking off. Seriously, it was like, bullshit task, walk up and down the stairs a few times; bullshit task, lock myself in the bathroom to jack off; and so on. I ended up jacking off three times that day. (Twice during the day, once at night in bed after P. had fallen asleep; his chronic back pain was acting up so we couldn’t mess around that night, alas.)

The best things of that day were: 1. Finding out I was such a hit at the gallery on Friday that they want me to be one of their features again in May. Like, according to the person who is my point of contact there, even after I left, people were coming up to her saying: “Wow, Jessie was amazing; when can I see them again?!” 2. The burgers we made for dinner that night: blue cheese, bacon, Buffalo sauce, and tomato burgers.

…

Yesterday I clocked a couple hours for my new side gig. It’s kinda tedious, but at least I can do it on my own time, and I need the money.

After that, I did school stuff with the kiddos, including some art time. They both painted, and I sat down to draw something that I thought was kind of inspired by Paradise Lost (cuz I’m on a Milton kick lately) and Nick Cave, but which turned out to be a figure straight out of that horrifying dream I had on Saturday. And I am actually entirely freaked out by the drawing; I had to hide it so I won’t see it.

I spent most of the afternoon laying in bed, drinking tea and reading, as my sinuses were acting up and I couldn’t do much else.

Fortunately, I felt better by evening. For dinner, I made fish tacos (with shredded lettuce, pico de gallo, fresh avocado, and lime wedges for garnish) with beans and rice on the side.

And P. and I got to have sex last night, and it was great, again, as it has been lately.

…

Today I woke up restless, horny, and anxious, again. Mostly the anxiety stemmed from a phone call I had to make. Before I made the call, I did yoga, ate a small breakfast, and took my ashwagandha and magnesium supplements, which helped ease my anxiety a little. Then I made the call, and it sucked, but not as bad as I had feared it would, and hey, at least then it was done.

Late morning, I took the kids to the library. They got to play in the play area for a while; I talked with a mom who was there with her three kiddos (all of them true gingers!). We checked out a bunch of books, as per usual. Then came home to make lunch—mini quesadillas, plus avocado & pico de gallo & beans & rice left over from last night.

After lunch, I decided to take a walk. It’s chilly and a bit windy today, but it had been over a week since I took a walk, and I get even antsier/more restless without them. So I bundled up, and took some hot coffee in my travel mug to keep me warm.

When I stepped out the back door, my crow friend was in the tree where it’s building its nest. It saw me and cawed, then went flying toward the front yard, like it wanted me to follow. I was like: “Oooh, side quest!” When I got out to the sidewalk, I saw the crow in the front yard a few houses down, pulling at something in the mud. I got to the crow just as it pulled the object free, and I saw it was this long, silvery piece of something—like maybe tinsel, or part of a mylar balloon. I said: “Oh, good for you, you found a shiny for your mate!” The crow then flew back towards our backyard.

As I said above, I’ve been feeding the crows in this neighborhood on and off for years, and occasionally saying hello to them, but I do not understand why this particular crow (and by extension, its mate and family/friends) has decided we’re besties. I do not understand, but I am fucking delighted.

I took my walk around the block, got home, promptly locked myself in the bathroom and jacked off.

Tonight, for dinner, P. made chicken cacciatore. The recipe he uses has a white (white wine, lemon juice, olive oil) sauce as opposed to the usual tomato-based chicken cacciatore, and it’s so good. And I’m hoping we get to fuck again tonight, cuz like I said, I’m wildly, insatiably horny these days.

…

This weekend is looking like it will be another jam-packed one. I have to meet up with K. to pick up the Joe Strummer piece I commissioned for Ali’s birthday. There’s a couple activist things I’m participating in; tomorrow’s rally for queer youth, plus some voter outreach stuff I signed up to do prior to next Tuesday’s very important election.

Saturday is the start of National Poetry Month/NaPoWriMo. I plan to attempt a 30/30, because I generated so much work last April (and had fun doing it). I’m also working up some curriculum to teach both the kids about reading and writing poetry, at age-appropriate levels.

One of my first projects for NaPoWriMo is gonna be trying to finish translating that poem I wrote last week from English to Gaeilge. It’s been tricky because, though it’s a short poem, it has an odd structure that does not lend itself easily to Gaeilge. Also, my grasp on Gaeilge is rudimentary at best. But then, that’s why I’m doing this, to help me learn.

Next week, I’m hoping to finish getting the New Wave anthology ready for print.

…

Other than all that? Well, there have been more realizations and epiphanies.

I’ve been getting braver, again. Doing things even if I’m scared to; because I remembered that most of the best things in my life have come from moments of “Am I scared? Yeah, but fuck it, I’ll do it anyway.”

I’ve been reincorporating elements of my old life, my old personality. From things as simple as drinking lapsang souchong again, taking walks whenever I can, rereading old favorite books, rediscovering old favorite albums; to things more esoteric. For so long I’d been lamenting the days when I was a mystical romantic lovesick dork, wishing I could be that way again but thinking I was too old. But now I’m allowing myself to behave that way again. I’m romanticizing my daily life, singing as I walk down the street, talking with the crows, cavorting with the wind.

A lot of those things (the tea, the walks, the mystical romantic lovesick dorkiness) sort of rhyme with a very specific time in my life, namely 2006-2008, and it’s funny that I’ve been asked to do a reading at Linneman’s, which was a place I frequented in those years. I know, you can’t go home again—except, sometimes you can.

And I’m also glad that I’m managing to reintegrate the positive aspects of those days without the self-destructive ones (i.e., drinking to excess and hooking up with people I didn’t even really like very much).

Another thing I’m reincorporating into my life is the DIY? Because I Gotta attitude. It’s not that I’ve ever fully lost it, but I’ve been doing a lot of it lately: things like making that necklace for myself, writing the poem and making the collage-card for my dad, etc. I used to get down on myself because I’ve never had enough money to buy gifts for all my loved ones for every occasion, but now I’m like, wait, this is actually a good thing about me. Not the lack-of-money part, but… I might not have money to buy people gifts all the time, but I do things like make them art, write them poems, make them personalized zines, make them mix tapes or playlists, bake them bread or cookies, give them veggies from my garden, give them tarot readings, etc. That’s actually pretty fucking cool.

I’ve been re-redefining success re: my writing career. Once again reminding myself that as long as my words get out in the world and the people who need them find them, that’s the most important thing—doesn’t so much matter what route those words take to get there. Reminding myself that I can look for agents for certain projects, submit to the more established lit journals, enter big name contests, etc., but that I can also continue to publish my own zines and chapbooks, and send stuff out to indie mags and presses. I don’t have to choose! I can try it all!

Speaking of not having to choose—I’ve been re-embracing the fluid nature of both my gender/gender expression and my sexuality.

For a while I was reading too much of that baeddelism stuff, and even though I objectively know it’s bullshit, it kinda got to me. I started thinking to myself: “You’re not currently pursuing medical transition, you have long hair, and you still wear skirts and makeup sometimes. Those people are right—you’re just a penis-obsessed cis woman LARPing as nonbinary.” And then I was like, wait. First of all, though medical transition is an important part of transitioning for many trans people, it is not the only valid way to transition. Second of all, plenty of men, trans and cis, have long hair or wear skirts or makeup; why am I letting a handful of people who are basically TIRFs (trans-inclusive radical feminists) dictate how I present and what that means about my gender? My gender and sexuality have always been fluid, that’s just who and how I am; that’s why I have always preferred the term queer—because it states that I am not cishet, but doesn’t box me into some narrow definition of gender or sexuality that might change the next moment, anyway. So, once again: I’m here, I’m queer, get used to it. And: You cannot misgender me in a way that matters.

Speaking of fluid sexuality—the way my desires are changing lately is fascinating. Some things that used to turn me on no longer do it for me; other things that I was never into are now super hot.

These past two weeks have made me think of that Aaron Cometbus quote, about the kind of days I’ve been having: Simple days but with little surprises and long walks and good luck.

And it’s spring, it’s spring! Still chilly, but it stays lighter later every night, and the birds are out squawking and singing at all hours, and of course I’m restless and horny, it’s spring!

Overall, I’ve been full of gratitude and joy. I have amazing friends, all over the world. I get so overwhelmed with love for my kids, and for P. Seriously, every day I look at P. and think how lucky I am to have him as my partner in life; as the person I get to raise kids with and have hot sex with and cook good food with and wake up to every morning. And every day, I get to read books and listen to music and make art and write.

Of course things aren’t perfect, with the kids or with P., and I’m tired of being broke, and there’s the anxiety and executive dysfunction, and there’s a lot of bad shit in the world. But I have plans to make my and my family’s future better. And I’m getting more involved with activism again—apparently, when I allow myself to do things that bring me joy, I have more spoons for helping other people! Shocking, I know.

And I cry a lot, and I get nostalgically sad and long for old faces and places I once knew, and I get restless and long for new faces and places and adventures. And my heart breaks every day, from the beauty of the world, and the pain. But if that’s the tax for being a poet, for being a mystical romantic lovesick dork; if that’s the tax for not being closed off to any part of life—then I will gladly, gladly pay it.

#ashtrayfloors #dear livejournal #haha #this post is so long #and it's actually SHORTER than initially planned #because #well for one i'd started writing about a few things that had happened over the past two weeks that were kinda bad/annoying #but then partway through just got bored of writing about them #so i took those paragraphs out #and for two #i wrote this several-paragraph long backstory #about my old friend j.c. who i had the dream about #like the history of our friendship/how i first knew him #and realized that it didn't really belong in a journal entry #but in fact should be expanded as a story for my zine eventually

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pleasantanathema · 4 years

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Pleasant’s Writer Recs!

I’ve gotten a few asks in my inbox over the past few weeks asking me for writer recs, so I thought the best way to do this was to compile a list of my fav authors on tumblr and rec my favorite fic of theirs! A lot of these amazing authors are moots—I’m very lucky to call many of them close friends. This list could be much longer, and I could go on for days about every single author, but I’ll try to keep it brief. Most all of these authors, like myself, write 18+ only content. Hopefully this can be a useful tool for authors and readers alike looking for amazing fanfic 💕

@bakatenshii | Angel is so phenomenal with her writing that I almost can’t put her style and amazing ability into words (but I’ll try). Angel’s work is beautiful, masterful, full of poetry, elegance, and smut that will all leave you gasping. Fav Fic: Blitz [Ushijima x Reader]

@blahkugo | Sunnt, Thunnth, Sunny, whatever you call her, she is brilliant. No one writes Tsukishima quite like she does. She is beyond creative and her writing style flows like the sexiest water, it’ll make you thirsty and quench your aches. Fav Fic: Tower [Tsukishima x Reader]

@deathcab4daddy | Tay is all about details, details, details. She fills in every gap and paints gorgeous, sexy pictures and situations for the reader to feel immersed in. Fav Fic: Cerulean Blue [Akaashi x Reader]

@dymphnasprose | Dymphna is all about fun, sex, and slowly filling out her holy bible of smut. She’s amazing at creating realistic sub/dom relationships and her smut almost always comes with a healthy dose of build-up. Fav Fic: Green Scrunchies [Ukai x Reader]

@enjifuckersupreme | Ketsl reigns supreme over pure, unadulterated porn. They are phenomenal at making me the reader wet, and every fic is crafted with so much care. Enji fuckers should bow down at their feet, no one loves and writes Enji like Ketsl. Fav Fic: Attitude Adjustment [Enji x Reader]

@hisoknen | Raph is one of the first dark blogs I ever started reading, and she never, ever disappoints. She writes pieces that chill you to the bone, but warms your sex- her writing is casual, smooth, and realistic, always giving you everything you need, but leaving you wanting a little more. Fav Fic: Sleeping Beauty [Dabi x Reader]

@hoe-doroki | Ana is one of the sweetest writers I know. Every time I talk to her, she’s working on comfort requests or beta-reading for other people. Her writing is such a pleasure to read, as you can tell she pours love and consideration into every fic for her readers. Fav Fic: Can’t Find My Breath [Bakugou x Reader]

@joyousandverywarlike | Zo...holy fucking shit. Zo is a writer who consistently blows me out of the water with her skill. This woman is a novelist blessing us with juicy, rich smut and love stories like no one else can. She is incredibly poetic and her writing is an absolute joy to read; she also writes amazing fics for black readers and has an amazing voice that she uses for asmr audios! Fav Fic: How We Met [Ushijima x Reader]

@lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten | Leah is an author who takes immense care with her work. She works incredibly hard to craft sexy, healthy bdsm fics for bnha. She is a great blog to go to for bdsm education, and she’s also got a side blog @lemonlordleah-extra-sour for all you extra naughty readers who like the darker side of fanfic. You should also check out her Patreon! Fav Fic: Between the Evergreen [Aizawa x Reader]

@linestrider | Nyki’s work is like smooth water, it’s calming, refreshing, but she also adds a nice, chill bite to it as well with her darker style. Nyki puts such an impressive amount of care into her work; a word is never out of place, every sentence has meaning, every paragraph gives you something new. It was very hard to choose just one fic to recommend. Fav Fic: What’s Said is Said [Hawks x Reader]

@lookslikeleese | Leese is one of the most fun writers on Tumblr, and by that I mean you just have a shitload of fun reading her fics. They are like little, sexy treats to take in right before bed and feel a little more full than you were before. She is also the Cucking Queen. Fav Fic: Cola [Enji x Reader]

@messwriting | Lee is also another fun writer! Her writing is exhilarating to read, and you’d never guess she’s a sexy Brazilian whose second language is English based on how well she writes. She’s a little sex goddess who will give you everything you want and more in every fic. Fav Fic: What We Could’ve Been [Tsukishima x Reader]

@mindninjax | Marquie is a full on sweetie with a sexy side. She. Is. So. Creative. Every fic of hers is so unique and her masterlist is a whole reading experience. She writes Bakugou Katsuki so damn well, she’s a master at characterization, even in au’s. She also writes beautiful fics for black readers. Fav Fic: Bound to You [Bakugou x Reader]

@nekokoafanfictions | I first found Ai on Ao3, and then was fortunate enough to come across their blog here on Tumblr! I’ve said this before in previous rec lists, and I’ll say it again, I still read their fics some nights to fall asleep to, they are just that good, every fic will have you coming back at some point to read it again. Fav Fic: City Lights [Enji x Reader]

@present-mel | The. Queen. Of. Dialogue. Mel is a master at making her fanfic feel real, gritty, sexy, and beautiful all at the same time. This woman pours her heart and soul into fanfic, especially into her Erwin series Fragments of Memories. I was so captivated by her work that I just had to become her friend, her work is enchanting and thrilling. Fav Fic: Until the Fire Played [Enji x Reader]

@rat-suki | Annie makes me horny. Like, real horny. Her smut is fantastic and are often little thrill rides within themselves. Fuck rollercoasters, just go to Annie’s masterlist to find a joy ride. Fav Fic: Hell Fire [Enji x Reader]

@rivendell101 | I’m such a big fan of Alisha, that I sent her a request months ago before we even became friends. This author knows how to craft a story, her work is very meticulous with details and her plots are always so spot on. Fav Fic: Sweet Thing [Natsuo x Reader]

@smutbardpeach | Smutbard is the most accurate title for Peach, as her fics read like poetry and song, filled with beautiful language, imagery, and allusions to the brim. If you’re ever looking for something romantic, sensual, delightful, and just overall magnificent to read, this is the blog to go to. Peach’s work is like reading poetry and classics right off the shelf. Fav Fic: Truth in Wine [Hizashi x Reader]

@spicyness | Are you thirsty? Do you like fun, sexy headcanons? Ness is the author for you. Ness is so, so fun and sweet, and is active with her followers and is always posting something new and creative for us to nibble at. Her blog is full of fun thirsts and she’s always a joy to see pop-up on my dash. Fav Fic: Pride [Bakugou x Reader]

@sugardaddykenma | Lin has the most amazing brain. I wish I could just...see and understand how she thinks. Her blog is full to the brim with hilarious, iconic, and down right fucking true headcanons for haikyuu characters. Many nights I have stayed up laughing my ass off and saying “why is that so true?” while reading through her astonishingly creative work. Fav Fic: Haikyuu on Drugs

@thewheezingwyvern | Wyv is a writer who gets straight to the point; her words are poignant, meaningful, and always paint a very clear picture. She is a Shinsou and Aizawa lover/fucker all the way to her core, and she’s amazing at bringing those characters to life in her work. Fav Fic: Salt Lines [Aizawa & Shinsou x Reader]

@thisisthehardestthing | Claudia is one of the most talented writers I have ever met. Period. She has a vocabulary, a depth, an ability to craft the most intense, alluring, and magnificent fanfic you’ve ever read. Most of her work doesn’t even seem like fanfic, it reads like love letters stuffed into the pages of a book that stand the test of time with her marvelous writing abilities. She always awes me, as every single fic is unique and powerful it its own way. Fav Fic: Tocka [Tanaka x Reader]

@tomurasprincess | The Queen of Darkness herself, Mari is amazing at fulfilling all of your dark desires. I’ve never met anyone else who is as active as she is with her followers, as she’s constantly pushing herself to answer requests and give people exactly what they want to see. She has such an expansive masterlist, any dark fic lover can find something worthwhile from her! She’s almost made a Shigaraki fucker out of me, almost. Fav Fic: Wraith’s Touch [Shigaraki x Reader]

@undermattsun | Miki taught me what a skate rat is. Do I understand it yet? Not really, but I fucking like it. Miki is so much fun and is always active with her followers, giving out awesome thirsts, visuals, and headcanons for her fav haikyuu characters. Fav Fic: Flavor of the Month [Matsukawa x Reader]

@vixen-scribbles | Vixen is someone who cares about everyone around her, and her blog reflects that. Amongst all her amazing writing, you’ll always find her recommending her friends and supporting other writers. Her writing is fucking sexy, she knows her way around the bedroom when it comes to fics, and she’s got a lengthy masterlist to fawn over. Fav Fic: Take All of Me [Ushijima x Reader]

@whats-her-quirk | Truly, the best has been saved for last. June’s work is the heart and soul of classic, fucking amazing fanfic. I can’t even explain how much I love her fics, like they will put the biggest smile on your face and have your thighs rubbing together in anticipation. June is writing her fantasies and having fun, and we are privileged to enjoy the ride with her. She knocked kinktober out of the fucking park, with each fic being a new, fresh delight. Fav Fic: Once in a Blue Moon [Karasuno x Reader Gangbang]

This list could honestly be twice as long, and perhaps in the future I’ll make a companion to it as I meet new authors and read more amazing fanfic. Please give all these authors a follow or at least check out their blogs. 💖

#writer recs #bnha #haikyuu #attack on titan #fanfiction #bnha fanfic #hq fanfic #aot fanfiction #bnha x reader #haikyuu x reader #aot x reader #amazing writers #pleasant speaks #my hero academia #haikyuu!!#my hero academia fanfic

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nethandrake · 3 years

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keep me as your finish line.

stevetony. avengers assemble. rated t. fake/pretend relationship. 4.9k words.

for the fall backwards: an avengers assemble flash exchange hosted by @cap-ironman and @ishipallthings

also on ao3.

*****

Like most shenanigans of this sort, it happens on a Tuesday.

“—was saying! But Sam told me— Hey, what’s that?”

Tony follows Steve’s line of sight, pointed towards a small glimmer coming out from the cracks on the sidewalk. Steve edges closer, getting down on one knee to pick it up.

“What is it? A dime?”

“Nope,” Steve replies, holding his hand up. “Not even close.”

It’s a ring. It’s a pretty thing, a band of silver with a small diamond nestled in the middle.

“Why, Steven,” Tony begins teasingly, “you’re going to propose to me in the middle of a sidewalk?”

Steve’s grin widens. “Carpe diem.”

“How romantic.”

Tony’s about to drag Steve up to his feet when a flash of light stills him.

There’s a crowd gathered around them, holding out their phones and they grin manically.

“Say yes!” someone calls.

“Say what?” Tony asks.

“Say yes,” Steve replies, infuriatingly calm. “They want you to marry me.”

Tony freezes. The noise around them grows louder.

“Well, Shellhead?” Steve murmurs, his grin plastered back on. “Marry me?”

Tony should say no. He should haul Steve to his feet and tell everyone to scram, tell them that this is all a misunderstanding. He should toss the ring far, far away and make a run for it.

“Yes,” he whispers instead.

*****

Tony breaks the silence halfway through the elevator ride.

“Well, that was something.”

Steve chuckles. “I’m never picking a ring up ever again.”

Tony lets out a hollow laugh of his own. “The board’s going kill me.”

“No, they won’t.”

“Yes, they will,” Tony insists. “Me a part of a fake public proposal? The stocks are going to plunge, the board will be on me even more than usual, and the media—”

The media. The public.

Steve.

Oh god.

“Steve,” Tony begins, “I—”

The elevator doors open. They step into the common area.

There’s a banner that’s stuck to the ceiling with arrows that says, ‘CONGRATULATIONS ON THE ENGAGEMENT’, in block letters. Heart-shaped balloons hang from every corner of the room. Cupcakes with icing in Captain America and Iron Man colors are stacked high in the middle of the dining table.

“Surprise!” Sam cries out.

Clint whoops. Thor blows on his party horn.

Oh god. The team.

How could he forget?

“We are not telling them,” Steve murmurs.

“Yes, we will,” Tony hisses back.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Tony would’ve argued back if Hulk hadn’t gathered them both into his arms, squeezing them with his massive, massive arms.

“‘Bout time you got together,” he says cheerfully before mashing Steve and Tony’s faces together.

That’s how Steve and Tony have their first kiss.

*****

They don’t end up telling them.

Tony doesn’t know why they don’t. It’d make sense to. They’re all friends. They’d understand how stupid the whole thing is, even if Tony has to suffer at the hands of their teasing.

But then Thor claps Tony on the back and regales the team with every instant Steve and Tony would wax poetic about each other and Sam shoves congratulatory cookies into his face and Bruce shows up to offer his congratulations and Tony just can’t bring himself to say anything. At least not yet.

Steve is perfectly content with keeping up with the charade, sticking by Tony’s side and openly holding his hand and nuzzling his cheek and looking at Tony as if he’s his whole world.

It doesn’t make sense. Steve’s the paragon of righteousness and truth. He never lies. Why he would start doing it now, over something dumb like this? It’s beyond Tony.

“About time you kids came out with it,” Clint says between mouthfuls of cake. “Felt like you kids were taking forever to tell us.”

“Which you didn’t,” Natasha points out, arching an eyebrow.

Steve rolls his eyes, wrapping his arm around Tony’s waist and pulling him close. “We figured you guys would just hound us about it.”

“Hey, I can behave.”

“Sure you can,” Steve says before brushing his lips against Tony’s cheek.

Clint makes a retching sound. “You know what? I’m glad you guys kept it on the down-low. Don’t think I could take any form of PDA from either of you.”

God, if he only knew. If all of them only knew.

*****

The thing about being fake engaged while living with friends is that they have to share the same living space.

Which means sharing the same bed.

“I can take the floor,” Tony says as he exits his bathroom. “I’ve slept on worse.”

Steve’s gaze falls on him. He’s already dressed down in a tank top and shorts. Tony does his best to avert his gaze.

“Don’t be stupid. It’s big enough for the both of us.”

Tony glances at his king-sized bed with doubt.

Steve rolls his eyes and beckons him over.

Like a moth to a flame, Tony follows.

*****

The next morning is total chaos.

Tony’s phone is overwhelmed with messages and missed calls. His inbox is full of lengthy emails. The press is divided. So is the board.

Fury asks to see him, to see them.

The team has gathered in the communal kitchen when Steve and Tony head down in rumpled clothes and bed hair. The grins they send them are wolfish.

“Good night?” Clint begins, waggling his eyebrows.

Steve beams, draping his arm around Tony’s shoulder. “Very good night.”

And it’s too much. Too sudden. Too everything.

So like any sane person would in this kind of situation, Tony hides.

*****

Steve forces his way into the workshop on the fourth day.

“You can’t hide from me forever,” he says. “The team’s worried about you. I’m worried about you.”

Tony ignores him, fixating on the hundredth tabloid headline about him and Steve on the screen in front of him instead.

Steve closes the news with a wave of the hand. “Hey,” he says softly, “you alright?”

Tony doesn’t say anything for a long moment. “It’s a mess. The whole thing’s a mess. Imagine when everyone finds out that this is all fake. They’ll kill us.”

“Not if we stay engaged.”

Tony whips around to face Steve. “You can’t be serious.”

Steve nods, solemn. “Oh, I’m serious.”

“JARVIS, run a—”

“I’m not a Skrull,” Steve huffs. “Or an LMD. Or under the influence of magic. Or mind-controlled. I genuinely do think we should stay engaged. At least, for now.”

Tony stares at him in disbelief. “God, do you hear yourself right now? Does it make sense to—”

“Yes.” Steve pulls up the holograms again, scrolling through. “Look. Everyone’s happy—”

“Not everyone.”

“The team’s happy for us. Fury isn’t pissed for once. The stocks have been soaring since the news. If you haven’t been reading trashy tabloids and right-winged articles, you would know that a lot of people are supportive. In fact,” Steve opens a new article, “a lot of people in the LGBTQ+ community are excited. The announcement’s helped a lot of people come out, or at least be more accepting of their own identities. It’s good for the people.”

Tony exhales heavily. “I’m not saying it isn’t. God knows that everyone needs all the support they can get. It’s just that we shouldn’t. It’s not right. I may be pan but you’re—”

“I’m bi.”

Tony blinks. “You’re—”

“Bisexual,” Steve affirms.

Tony files that information away for later. He’s one step closer to having a mental breakdown and processing the revelation that Steve’s bisexual wouldn’t help matters.

“Regardless, this isn’t a life or death situation. I can deal with the company and the press and—”

“You’re my friend. I can help.”

“What if you find someone you—”

“I don’t think I will,” Steve says firmly.

“Steve, I—” Tony sighs, wiping his face with his hand. “What about the team? Shouldn’t they know?”

“The fewer people that know, the better.”

Tony blinks. “Are you crazy?”

Steve grins. “Nope.”

“Well, jury’s out on that.” Tony groans, slumping in his seat. “God, we should’ve told them it was all a misunderstanding.”

Steve smiles, squeezing Tony’s shoulder in reassurance. “It’ll all work out. You’ll see.”

Tony highly doubts that.

“You’re not going to wear someone else’s ring.”

“You can make me a new one.”

“I figured you’d say that. So, you know.” Tony climbs up to his feet, pulling one of his desk drawers open and reaching inside. “I didn’t lock myself up for no reason. Here. It’s not vibranium but uh, hope you like it.”

Steve takes the ring out from the velvet box gingerly, as if he’s afraid it’ll break. “You’ve always had my heart,” he murmurs as he examines the inscription on the silver band. “Wow.”

Tony’s breath catches at the reverence in Steve’s tone. “Figured you’ll like that kind of sappy thing.”

“I do,” Steve says and god he sounds so happy, so touched, so— “Here’s yours.”

It’s a simple gold ring, with a familiar scrawl engraved on the inside.

You’ve given me a home.

Tony almost breaks down.

*****

read the rest of ao3.

#fallbackwardsexchange2021 #capimuniversemedley #stevetony #stony #superhusbands #avengers assemble #steve rogers #tony stark #universe medley fest #*fic

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enha-woodzies · 3 years

Text

➸ CHAPTER 10 | " AT LONG LAST PT. 2 "

starring: enhypen ft. daniel

pairing: jungwon x fem!reader x sunghoon

genres: royal au, romance, angst, slowburn, 18th century setting

word count: 2.4k

taglist: @serendipitysung (betareader) @en-sun @affectionaterainoflove @renkiv @softforjungwoo @jislix @gyeraniee @fluffi @stxrryemxlys @jungwon-luv-bot-pt3 @lost-lepord-beanie @hyunsunge @hooniecore @thenoceurgirl @thonkingdeepo

[ PREV. CHAPTER ] | [ M. LIST ] | [ NEXT CHAPTER ]

One of the strangest things about love is that it will make you feel rooted one moment, then wavered by the next; all by the person whom you treated like your resting place — only for them to be tired of you in their next waking day. In Jungwon’s case, he didn’t feel threatened by the marquess’ efforts to acquire his girl. Despite Y/n’s plead to stop the unlabeled thing going on between them, Jungwon refused to feel daunted. So he did what he does best: expressing his sentiments in the form of written words— the language of the unsaid.

The night Y/n ended things between them, Jungwon made a quick stop to their library to write down a few of the many things she did to him on the daily; it contained some of the uncountable things he wanted to say to her if she’d only listened. He poured out his heart, writing to the best of his ability with all the love and warmth she deserved, hoping his adoration would reach her if it wasn’t too late yet.

Crumpling away various parchments and scratching several more, he finally had it neatly tucked in between the pages of their favorite Jane Austen book she threw at him weeks prior. Before leaving the said book upon the large, round table in the center of the room, Jungwon topped it off with a little quote, once again, peeking from the worn-out cover of the antique novel.

“I will go if you need me to go, but bear in mind that I don’t want to leave. I have no other homeland but you. So I will patiently sit in the corner of your heart and wait for our time.”

If it weren’t for Jay’s knowledge about his friend’s almost parting gift, Y/n wouldn’t be rushing down their manor’s library with an eager yet tormented heart the day after. She immediately clasped the book, the repertoire of their precious memories and Jungwon’s poetic affection, the instant she saw it lying on the surface of her late father’s desk.

Y/n pulled out the tiny parchment with Jungwon’s last quote, putting down the book back on the wooden desk. She carefully muttered each word as if it was an ode, constantly bouncing in her mind back and forth.

Her heart found a bit of relief behind his written words, yet she still found it vague that he couldn’t face her and tell her himself. Y/n picked the book again and as she flicked through the pages, a small, handwritten envelope caught her attention. Her heart began to thump.

She gently tore the envelope open only to be welcomed by several folded papers brimming at the edge of the torn covering. Jungwon got her used to the underlined phrases and pieces of quotes, and almost nothing from Jungwon’s heart itself. And now suddenly, all the letters were about her, from the depths of her lover’s affection.

“Be still, my heart.” She whispered under her shaky breath.

My dearest Y/n,

We made quite a mess, don’t you think? Or rather, I did.

When I didn’t react to your efforts of reaching out,

I'm sure you thought I'd gone on or despised you.

I bet it never ever occurred to you that I just couldn’t

bring myself to say "hello" and risk another goodbye.

You wore your best dress that day we departed,

and you were there to watch me leave.

And all the times you let me in just for me to screw things up and leave again.

I’ve been trying to undo what I did to you by making amends.

I’m trying so hard, believe me.

Everything I said in the past and the phrases I underlined in attempts to confess to you,

They were all true.

I cannot stop thinking of you, my thoughts of you never end.

They’re so loud they prevent me from sleeping at night.

I’ve been restlessly rehearsing the words I’d tell you if time didn’t forbid.

But unfortunately, it appears that my time in your heart is up.

Truth be told, we were something, don’t you think?

I cannot shrug away the thought that we were nothing when

I could feel your calm breath against my heaving chest,

It felt like you were meant to reside there, in the warmth of my embrace.

I’m afraid I couldn’t bear myself to write more of these.

They don’t deserve to be kept in any longer.

If you still wish to talk to me and hear me out before giving your hand away,

Meet me in the Queen’s Garden at dusk tomorrow.

Jay has agreed to chaperone you there,

But he must leave us to ourselves when we reach the Catalpa tree.

Until then, I will remain in the state of waiting, for the last time.

— Forever yours, Jungwon

The awaited dusk came upon, and it was a shocker for Y/n that she rejected Sunghoon’s plea to spend the day together over an impulsive meeting with Jungwon. Jay helped lift his sister from the horse, firmly securing his grip on her corseted waist. Her heart was in a weary state; she feared it would be a cycle again of Jungwon acting out his affection and leaving her hanging when their moment’s up. She couldn’t trust him fully anymore, knowing he had recklessly wasted so much borrowed time and promises.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine? I can stay by the gazebo and wait for you.”

“It’s alright, Jay. Didn’t he promise you that he’d send me home? Ride safe, brother!”

Jay walked closer to her and draped his arm around her shoulder, planting a long, soft kiss on the crown of her head. “See you at home, sis.”

Y/n heaved a deep breath before taking baby steps towards the Catalpa tree where Jungwon had been lounging hours prior. With a heavy heart and romantic complications in mind, she stood in front of the lover she forced herself to detest; eyes never leaving his.

But Jungwon, being easily distracted by her tantalizing eyes, quickly averted his gaze to the grass he had been standing on. His confident stance stripped away though he mustered the courage to look at the beautiful pair, as the object of his affection gradually approached him.

“Why didn’t you come and talk to me yourself?”

“Would you have listened?” Y/n ran out of retorts as she was guilty enough, cutting Jungwon’s explanations that night in their garden.

The boy drew closer to her, softly lifting her resting hand to interlock it with his. “Y/n…” only to be shrugged away by the maiden.

“You must have gone crazy, coming here like this. Tell me, are you that desperate to impel your pride-”

“This is not about my pride! I-” Jungwon ran a hand through his hair as he let out a frustrated sigh, realizing what he just did. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to raise my voice. It upsets me to know that you still think this is all for my ego, supposing you’ve read the letters I left you.”

“So you’ve been living in denial all these years?”

“I never meant to come between you and him.”

“Yet here we are. Someone’s caught in the middle, and it’s definitely not you, Jung.” The boy stared down at his worn-out boots, million-dollar thoughts running through his mind, yet he couldn’t find the ones he needed to say.

“Do you want me to start it off for you?” Y/n crossed her arms, trying her best to compose a cold approach to Jungwon, although the chap’s been looking unkempt like he hasn’t slept for days in every passing minute of their imminent bickering.

“Haven’t you gotten the letters?”

“I did.”

“Is there anything you want to say about it?” Y/n scoffed at the timid boy who was shattered by the lady’s callousness.

“You asked me to come here, Jungwon! All this time you’ve said nothing but a few words to me. Are you even serious right now?” She half-yelled in frustration.

“I’m trying to prevent myself from saying the wrong things.”

“You’ve barely been able to look me in the eye!”

“For the reason that I cannot bear witness to the misery I’ve caused you!”

Y/n gulped when she saw a tear grazing down Jungwon’s dimpled cheek. It was the first time she’d seen him cry in a long time, the last one being the day he left her for university five years ago.

“It pains me,” he stammered, breaths shaky as tears kept dripping down the grassy lawn. “It pains me to know that I’ve yet again, caused you another heartache. If there was anything I could do to bring back the hands of time, I would. I would do it in a heartbeat. If I could go back to when we were thirteen, on the exact day I left you for London, I would vow to you then and there that I will spend every lifetime with you when I get back.” Jungwon went on and on, eyes now fixated upon her sparkling orbs that reflected the full moon above them.

“But I was a stubborn, scared, idle bloke who’s now deserving of punishment. It’s long overdue, but I still think I deserve this, and I’m sorry. I’m tremendously sorry that it took your beautiful marquess to be caught in the middle of our mess for me to realize that you were my all and more. You are my all and more, Y/n. I couldn’t bear this any longer. My feelings will not be silenced this time, and I must let you hear of how I truly, madly, and deeply love you now more than ever. I’d hate myself for eternity if it came to the conclusion of having to lose the one real thing I’ve ever hoped for in this lifetime. If the mighty heavens don’t forbid us to love again, I swear I’d love you right.”

“Why are you telling me this now? You had all the chances, Jung. Why did it have to be in the most unsuitable moment where Mother and the Duke are preparing for the imminent wedding?!”

“Sometimes you don’t fully know the answer until someone’s breaking badly in front of you. I’m sorry, Y/n. But I’m here now, in all my glory, swallowing my pride, and laying my armor down if you choose to rather love than fight.”

Jungwon approached her. Too close until an inch of distance was left between them. His eyes had been watering with tears the entire time he was rambling his feelings, but he wiped her glistening tears away instead, bearing in mind that he’s making up for lost times. His face was mere inches away from hers, breaths fanning against each other as Y/n sniffs lightly with Jungwon’s nose bumping against hers.

“I love you, Y/n. My longing for you aches like piled-up bricks pushed against my chest, as my love for you burns, heavily and passionately, like a thousand suns set ablaze right before our very eyes. My heart is, and always will be, yours. You’ve imparted me this quote once from a book you found scattered around my room. ‘Only the deepest love will persuade me into matrimony’ and I had carved it into the depths of my soul, putting myself under the commitment of being worthy of your choice. I grew confident because I know you love me truly more than him.”

Jungwon raised her flimsy hand and kissed it with much intent before placing it around his shoulders and having his hand rest on the small of her back. With his other hand hanging freely to his side, he lifted it up to graze his gentle fingers upon the lady’s soft cheek, carefully taking in her satisfied reaction to his touch as she kept her eyes closed and her lips parted. Jungwon pulled her chin up with his forefinger, his thumb softly pinching it in the aftermath. He brushes his nose against hers, bathing in each other’s warmth and shy touches, bodies electric.

“Marry me.”

Y/n shoots a concerned look at Jungwon, “but what about Lady Choi? I thought you two-”

“No one else could make me the happiest man in this world, Y/n, no one but you.” Jungwon wasted no time and crashed his lips against hers. First, and long-awaited kisses are finally shared under the illuminating beam of the fullest moon of the year. The gent tilts his head to the side, gaining more access to the lady’s lips as Y/n heaves a deep breath, slowly taking in his upper lip within hers.

He pulls away mere seconds after to get some oxygen into his system while taking the opportunity to continue his unrehearsed proposal. “My heart will only rest in yours. Marry me, Y/n, will you?”

The lady buried her face against his chest that was clad in blue, velvety frock coat adorned with gold embroidery upon its hems. She sniffed his immaculate scent in before letting out muffled whispers. “Give me time to reflect on it. Only then will I give you my answer.”

“Time, of course. As much as you need, my love.” Jungwon gave her a quick and final kiss on the lips before freeing her from his embrace. “I must get you home now. Your mother would be frantic if she knew you were frolicking around with me while she worries about your wedding plans with Sunghoon.”

“Don’t say that. He hasn’t proposed to me yet.”

“But when he does, I’m certain your mother won’t pass up the chance.”

Y/n kissed him back. Fleeting, but full of love. “It’s me who’s getting married, Jung, not her.”

“I love you.”

“You’ve said it already.”

“I will say it again if I have to.” Y/n chuckles lightly, feeling relieved now that Jungwon has trampled down the barriers preventing them from transparency.

The gent lifts her up to his white horse before following after. He instantly took hold of her hands and had them wrapped around his small waist. “Hold on tight. We’re past my promised hour so I’m going to have to speed up, okay?” Y/n didn’t say anything, instead, she hugged Jungwon tightly by the waist and snurfled her cheek against his back. It was enough affirmation for him, so he yanked the thick rope, revving his horse on the cobblestones on their way home.

*send me an ask or a message if you wish to be added on this series’ taglist!

ㅡ © ENHA-WOODZIES, 2021

#kpopscape #enhypenwriters #enhypennetwork #neothestars #of lords & mischiefs #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen fics #enhypen series #enhypen jungwon #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jay #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunoo #enhypen niki #iland daniel

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crescentmoons-and-stardust · 3 years

Photo

The Broken Hearts Hotel

Chapter One: Star-Crossed

I’ve had many names over the years. I don’t even remember my original name so I’ll use the most popular one. The one everyone recognizes.

Juliet is my name and fair Verona is where I’m from (in this version, at least). My age is disputable but I remember I was young. Too young for what I experienced. It blows my mind that some can even consider my tale a romance when I think about it. My life was cushy, I’ll admit. My family was rich and influential. I didn’t want for anything growing up. Looking back I realize I had the perfect life but hindsight is twenty twenty.

Maybe that’s why I did what I did though. I was a spoiled, bored teenager. I needed excitement in my life.

Rosalina was considered the beauty of the family. She was a few years older than me and was totally stuck up. Always surrounded by a group of friends, my older cousin had no time for little ole me. Actually, no one really had time for me. My other cousin Tybalt had an older brother protectiveness of me but other than that he left me alone. My dearest (and truthfully, only) friend was my nurse. For the record, her name was Bianca. That’s usually left out.

Bianca was my friend and surrogate mother since my own couldn’t bother herself with parenting. Bianca was old fashioned. We’d spend our time doing needlepoint and reading the bible. Like I said, I was a bored teenager.

So when I was finally allowed to attend one of our grand masquerade parties, I was thrilled. Bianca sewed me a gorgeous dress, though the neckline was a little too modest for my taste. I spent hours at the market trying to find the perfect mask. I finally decided on a dainty red and gold mask lined with pearls. I was going all out for my first masquerade.

I could barely sleep the night beforehand. I was so excited. I had my hair done and was dressed hours before the party started. I’m not going to lie, when I looked in the mirror, I was blown away by how I looked. I finally looked like a woman, and a beautiful one at that.

The party was both amazing and overwhelming. There were so many people that I had to greet and so many men to dance with. But one man in particular caught my eye.

So I should probably back up here and talk about the rivalry that has plagued my story for centuries. Montagues and Capults have hated each other since God knows when. It goes back years, maybe even decades. What was the issue? No one knows. Isn’t it ironic? Isn’t it poetic?

Let’s be real, it’s stupid. And I’m sure the original reason for the hatred between my family and his was stupid as well. The rivalry was well known throughout the town. I can only assume everyone else rolled their eyes when it was brought up.

Anyway, back to the party. Romeo caught my eye from across the room. Was it love at first sight? I thought so but what did I know? I’d never been in love before. But there he was looking as handsome as a prince. And he was staring at me in much the same way. I blushed and broke eye contact first. Suddenly I was filled with panic and I slipped out into the garden. He followed me a moment after.

“My lady,” He bowed to me. Actually bowed. How could I resist that? “My name is Romeo.”

“Nice to meet you Romeo,” I murmured. I was going for demure but it came out as a squeak. He took my hand and kissed it in greeting. I could have melted into a puddle on the floor. Embarrassing, I know, but this was the first man to interact with me outside of family. I didn’t know at the time that he had originally been there for Rosalina. Or that he fell in love with a different girl each week, I just knew that there was a handsome man before me. Me. Boring, good mannered, Juliet.

Well it wasn’t long before we were in the garden kissing until my lips went numb. Unfortunately my absence was noted and Tybalt came searching for me. Not only did he ruin my first kiss but he made such a scene that Romeo was soon kicked out of the party.

I was sent to my room at once where I wallowed in despair. Would I ever see my beloved Romeo again? Well I didn’t have to wait for very long for my answer. Romeo scaled the wall and invited himself into my room and not long after, my bed.

It was wonderful and scary and thrilling all at once. The things he whispered in my ear, the lengths he promised to go for me. It’s no wonder I thought myself in love with him. And for that night, everything was perfect.

It all fell apart pretty quickly though. Romeo got a little too hot headed in the streets and killed my cousin. You think that would end any romantic feelings on my part but I was young and stupid. Tybalt started it anyway! He killed Romeo’s best friend first. Romeo was just a loyal friend. It was sweet, really.

That’s what I told myself. Not my proudest moment, I’ll admit. And then Romeo had to go into hiding. You see, they didn’t know it had been Romeo who killed Tybalt. The fight happened late at night and the only other witness, Mercruito, was already dead. So he left his body and fled to my bedroom to stash the murder weapon. He needed to leave town but he promised he’d come back. And I promised to wait. And I did. For months. He took an apprenticeship a few villages over while he waited for someone else to take the blame for Tybalt’s death. So I wrote him love letters that I never sent. I kept my window unlocked every night. I waited and prayed and yearned. And then I met Paris.

Paris was not nearly as handsome as Romeo but he was still an attractive man. While Romeo was flirtatious and suave, Paris was charming and gentle. He was a sweet man and if I hadn’t met Romeo, I think I would have been ecstatic when my mother announced our engagement.

We would have been happy together. I realize that now, but then all I thought of was my Romeo. I had a sweet spot for Paris and that only caused guilt when I remembered that I had already promised myself to another. Romeo was my true love. How could I ever think I’d be happy with another?

The timing of Romeo’s return couldn’t have been more perfect, almost as if he planned it like that. He had heard about the engagement. He raged and he sobbed as he asked if I was going to abandon him so easily. He’d die for me, he said. Would I be willing to do the same?

I would. And I did. With a special tonic I would fake my death and then Romeo would come get me from my family’s crypt. He’d whisk me away and we would start a new life together. I believed him and I think he believed himself as well. But it’s like I said earlier, Romeo was quick to fall in love.

So when the tonic was finally ready I drank it quickly before I could change my mind. My thoughts slowed and my vision blurred. I became sluggish and panicked as the tonic slowed my heart rate. I tried to make it to my bed but I think I may have lost consciousness before I could. I heard shouts as my world went black.

When I woke, my body ached. I was lying on a stone slab in a thin dress that did not keep out the cold. As my thoughts returned to me, I looked around and there was my Romeo waiting for me. I gave a weak smile that he did not return. Instead, he could not meet my eye and was fidgeting nervously.

“I think we’ve made a mistake,” He said at last. My thoughts were still confused so I did not respond.

“It was a fantasy to think we should run away together,” He continued.

“What are you saying?” I asked but I already knew. He was not going to start a new life with me.

“Perhaps you should marry Paris instead.” And then I knew. He had met someone else. He did not love me, he never did. This was all a game to him and it had finally gone too far.

“I gave up everything for you!” I cried. He shrugged and told me I wasn’t actually dead. I could return home to my family’s rejoice and it would be like nothing had changed. But things had changed. My heart was broken as the man who’d asked me to die for him had already moved on.

And suddenly I was angry. A burning white hatred bloomed inside me. I wanted him to suffer the way I had while he had been gone. How hopeless and sad I’d been. The happiness I’d felt when he returned was now being ripped away from me. I’d done all he had asked. I’d waited and was going to give up my entire life for him.

It was stupid to remind him of Tybalt. That I could tell everyone what he had done. I had the murder weapon after all, still rusted with my cousin’s blood. Romeo’s face paled as he tried to calm me. The more he tried, the angrier I became until we were both yelling.

I didn’t even see the knife he had until I felt it thrust up inside of me. He looked as shocked as I felt as we both realized what he had done. But then just as quickly, the shock vanished from his face as determined resolve replaced it. He stabbed me over and over again until my white dress was no longer white and the blood was pooling onto the floor. He laid me down gently, as gently as he had done when he shared my bed. He whispered sweet nothings in my ear that I tried not to hear. His tears that dripped down onto me only made me angrier and with my last strength I tried to push him away.

Blackness. Then light. Then the Broken Hearts Hotel.

My story, as twisted and retold as it has now become, is the greatest romantic tragedy of all time. And I couldn’t be any more furious about it.

#star crossed lovers #romeo and juliet #the broken hearts hotel #romeo and juliet aesthetic #juliet capulet #shakespeare #my post

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tenderloincherub · 3 years

Text

Red, White and Royal Blue (Casey McQuiston)

My thoughts on rwrb, a thread (I do know this doesn’t work by threads but it’s such an opening quote)

It’s been a bit more than a week since I finished this book, and it gave me * feelings * but if I let more time pass I’ll forget what I want to say about it. So this is a sort of review/opinion/basically-my-thoughts-on-it

I love how dreamy it can be. I know it may not be realistic but that’s somehow the point of it -to picture a world where Alex and Henry us queer people could be together and accepted and happy and carry on with our lives. I read it along with a friend, and she told me she disliked the ending because things solved too easily -I disagree, we have the right to see such world. I mean, from the beginning it was obvious it wouldn’t be a tragedy, you know?, like it’s that dreamy-happy from the beginning. We human beings have the right to read to daydream and feel hope, just as much as we read to learn and reflect upon the world and upon ourselves. It’s valid, and it’s always bee: that’s why we have Shakespeare’s both tragedies AND comedies, that’s why we have The Count of Monte Cristo (sorry, that one’s not happy for me) AND Jane Austen’s novels too. Literature’s point is also to give hope, to turn on lights. Like Dickinson said: “ The Poets light but Lamps — [...]”

The beginning didn’t really get me, that part did feel like a Wattpad-enemies-to-lovers-trope. I am sorry. I mean the part of the Cake-Gate and how they’re suddenly forced to fake to be friends. BUT I read Casey’s annotations and she wrote:

“One thing I loved doing with this book is taking tried & true romcom tropes – like forcing two people who “hate” each other and trapping them in a small enclosed space – and making it gay.” (So she convinced me.)

Alex’s sexual orientation crisis just hit me when I was having a crisis on my own. I loved his growth (as a person, in his relation with his bisexuality, his feelings, his relationship with Henry, as a to-be-politican), and it was quite honestly portrayed.

Ok, but Henry. Henry, oh, my. Oh, sweet, poetic, tender, beautiful, strong, brave-hearted, (hot), breathtaking Henry. He’s the one who made me wish to be a gay poet prince. His character is the most beautiful one that could have been written. I’m sorry, I just love him so much. He was so soft all the way in his love for Alex, he was so self-less but had also his growth to take the reins of his life and the way he wrote. Sorry, I sort of fell in love with him but also projected myself in his interests and some stuff. This friend with whom I read the book actually told me: if you were a character form the book, you’d be Henry. And that was * flattering *.

Well, all the characters. There was such diversity but all (most) of them lovable. And the dynamics between them. *chef’s kiss*

Rafael Luna was the portion of reality this book needed. His story was unfair, but his character was so strong, I could picture him in real life, actually. I loved his character as well, all the way long, I hurt for him but I admired him more.

There is this one thing that I didn’t like. Before saying it, I’ll make clear that I’m not into politics, not in the way that they don’t interest me or anything, but that I don’t know about the topic. Now, I feel the way it portrays American and English government is a complete polarization. Okay, I get monarchy is outdated and that democracy is actualized, but you can’t tell me one is black and the other white. I feel Casey portrayed American government flaws being on the people that run it, and English government flaws being on the system (so that, no matter the people, everything is wrong with the crown). *I’m not deffending England, just feeling it gives a sesgated idea.

Back to stuff I love: I am mexican, and Alex’s mexican side was satisfying. I mean, I’ve seen tons of latin characters in books, movies, and tv shows, and they rarely step out of some stereotypes. Alex’s sudden bursts of Spanish, appearance and cultural traits were so natural and meaningful and real. I really loved it.

Besides that, the way Alex’s religion and bisexuality converged was also beautiful. The passages where he compares holding Henry’s face with holding the Bible, and the mail where he talks about sacred places, and the prayer he remembers... Just beautfiul and meaningful.

“Henry lets Alex take him apart with painstaking patience and precision, moans the name of God so many times that the room feels consecrated.”

Alex’s narration is so deeply Catholic, which I think all Catholics can relate to. (Another annotation from Casey)

Their letter-like mails, the excerpts from historical characters letters were so romantic, poetic, heartachingly beautiful. This really was my favorite thing from the book. It’s a complete new way of communication, that goes so profound into their hearts and feelings, and gives a whole new perspective, exploring Henry and Alex’s relationship so deeply. [Also, I really hated when they were outed and their letters became public :( my babies deserved better). I’ve been searching for Michelangelo’s letters since and because of them.

So, wow, this why I never write on goodreads, but I feel more liberty and just comfortable here on Tumblr. I won’t extend into my favorite quotes and my playlist and stuff that reminds me of this -there’ll be more entries for that.

Thanks for reading this, and feel free to share your thoughts on my thoughts.

Sending love.

#red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb henry #book review #bookworm #goodreads #thoughts #just thoughts #books i love #books i'm reading #casey mcquiston #i just love henry #ok but really #i just love #henry wales #i just love these two #this should be in goodreads not here i know

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come-on-shitty-boys · 4 years

Text

//general dating headcannons//

Characters: Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou/Akaashi Keiji

Warnings: none :)

Word Count: 2K (~630 a piece)

Notes: kdhfesdkfje catch me getting carried away on Kuroo’s ope 0-0

Bokuto Koutarou

My literal husband ;-;

He’s such a sweet boyf oml hi yes, where do I order one?

Bokuto 100% dates to marry. He’s not here for flings or anything like that, so your relationship will turn serious pretty fast.

Bo is a simp and no one can tell me otherwise, so when it comes to PDA? Oh, he’s C L I N G Y

He always wants to hold your hand or sometimes he’ll walk behind you and cling to your waist. It’s definitely super hard for both of you to walk, but it’s adorable and makes him happy, so you’re not really going to complain.

If you hug onto his arm? He’s going to melt, especially if you trail your fingers up and down his bicep

It’s the same when the two of you are in private. He likes to have contact with you whenever possible. He’ll lay your head in his lap if you’re both laying on the couch or he’ll sit you in his lap and place little kisses at the base of your neck, right above the collar of your shirt.

His clothes are your clothes. At this point, you wear his training jacket more than he does. Sweatshirts? Flannels? Shorts? That’s shared territory right there.

And my G O D does he love it. He already has to buy bigger clothes because he’s got those wide shoulders, so his clothes tend to either fit you perfectly or completely swallow you, there is no in between.

If you’re thicc too? He has 100% stolen your leggings, just to see the appeal of them. Please hide them, because oH he understands now.

He gets jealous jealous. As in, he will place himself between you and the guy trying to talk to you and he’ll act all big and tough. But the minute the other dude backs off? Baby boy is back, wanting hugs. He’ll kiss you all over your face and be really pouty, asking if you’re okay and telling you that he loves you ;-;

Bokuto hoots bye i don’t make the rules. Okay yeah i kinda do, but still.

It’s not like HOOOOOT, but like a really soft h o o and he probably kinda wiggles in his spot, real happy

Bo has N O control over how he sleeps. He’ll always start out really normal, like you’ll be tucked into his side or something, but by the time you guys wake up? S T A R F I S H he is on his face, limbs covering the whole bed, just snoring away

When he’s away for games, he’s always on the phone with you. Like, the guys will try to hang out or something and he’ll definitely go off to his room with a “Oh, I want to call Y/N before she goes to bed, but I’ll come by later!”

And then he just doesn’t because he’s the one who fell asleep, not you.

Compliments the shit out of you. You’re his hype man and he is yours. He’s constantly telling you that you look beautiful or if you send him a selfie, he’s absolutely sending back the simp emoji, asking how he got so lucky.

He calls you ‘babe’ but usually only when he wants your attention or if he’s in another room and needs something, so expects lots of “Baaaaaaaaaaabe”s to be headed your way.

Other times? He calls you by name. Because there’s a million people who get called babe or sweetheart, but your name is yours, so it feels special and kinda intimate to him? So, if he’s feeling a little extra sentimental, he’s going to bury his face in your neck and just whisper lots of quiet, “I love you, Y/N”s over and over again.

Kuroo Tetsurou

R O O S T E R H E A D A S S that I love very very much

He’s a complete dork and I know the fandom makes him to be some kind of smooth talking God I’m guilty of it too but-

He’s literally not. He fumbles over his words so much when he’s around you. You guys can be dating for years and he’ll still have his moments where he’s a stuttering mess in front of you.

Asking you out? You suffered second-hand embarrassment. His face was about as red as his jersey and the boy was so nervous, rubbing the back of his neck, refusing to look at you, but then just shyly raising his eyes to look at you and muttering,

“Do you maybe wanna go out sometime?”

INSTANTLY STARTS APOLOGIZING

“But- but only if you want, of course! Don’t feel like you have to say yes, I can take rejection! I’m so sorry. I probably made you really uncomfortable. You know what? You don’t have to answer. I’m just going to go.”

He’s so shook when you say yes, but then immediately puts his cool guy act back on, like “psshh of course you do.”

I don’t see him being super into PDA or physical contact period? There’s something really special about just being near each other to him. Just accidentally bumping shoulders or brushing hands while the two of you stroll, talking about anything and everything.

Even in private, there’s not a ton of physical contact. Maybe tangling legs together as you sit on opposite ends of the couch, but that’s really it. He likes being in close proximity with you, but he doesn’t need to be touching you at all times.

But he’s down to cuddle if you ask. He’ll let you lay on top of him and hide your face in his neck or his chest. Sometimes you guys will talk, but most of the time? Cuddle time = nap time

He doesn’t get super jealous, but he won’t hesitate to come stand behind you if some guy is trying to hit on you. Kuroo will probably just play with your hair or make some kind of comment about how that bracelet he bought you looks really nice on you. Just dropping subtle hints that you’re taken.

Afterwards, though, he just drops it. It doesn’t really bother him. He knows well enough that if you didn’t want to be with him, you would’ve broken up with him. He just wants to be there in case someone tries to make you uncomfortable.

Gamenightgamenightgamenight

I’m talking like board games. Hours and hours of just sitting at the kitchen table with a bunch of your guys’ friends, slowly ruining relationships, but overall having a good time.

Kuroo plays Dungeons and Dragons. I’ve said this SO many times and no one is going to tell me otherwise. So, if you show any interest in maybe wanting to play, or, better yet, if you already know how to play? He’s bringing you to A L L of the future sessions.

He’s probably going to write your character into his character’s backstory, so when Dungeon Master!Kenma scolds him for playing reckless in order to protect you, Kuroo can retort with, “Well, actually, if you paid attention when I was telling my backstory, you would know- *insert long-winded backstory of how your characters know each other and how his character vowed to your character’s dying father that he would protect you etc etc*”

Kuroo is super into domestic life with you, so you guys probably moved in together as soon as possible. As in, if you started dating in high school, you were sharing an apartment your first year of college.

He just has a lot of fun doing little household things with you, like cooking, cleaning, or just enjoying quiet evenings together after all of the work is done for the day.

Kuroo said “I love you” first, but it took you both forever to say it, because you were both kind of new to this dating thing and you had always been told that it was a really big deal, so you didn’t want to rush that.

;-; please take care of my dorky rooster

Akaashi Keiji

Akaashi is pretty easy-going in relationships, but he’s also super romantic.

As in, he has hand-written you love letters. He’s got really neat writing too, so that just adds to their appeal. Akaashi probably has a wax seal that he seals all of the envelopes with? I don’t know why, but he seems like the type of guy to have one.

You guys have a book club, just the two of you. Oh, it’s so cute. It started as the two of you forcing each other to read your favorite books, but then, you guys ran out of books to share? So, once a month, you guys will go to the local bookstore and just spend a good hour or two trying to decide what book to give the other next.

Akaashi 100% always recommends classic novels. Things like Sense & Sensibility, Fahrenheit 451, Lord of the Flies, and Brave New World am i saying that because that’s my favorite book? more likely than you’d think.

He’s a lot more prepared for these shopping escapades that you are. He usually knows exactly what he wants to get you. If they don’t have it? That’s fine. He has a list.

You on the other hand? You’re asking the clerks what they recommend, reading the back of every book that seems like something he might enjoy, but you usually resort to dystopian novels (Never Let Me Go, Gone, The Handmaid’s Tale, etc), because he likes analyzing the politics and seeing how they could be metaphors for today’s world.

Damn this really turned into me just recommending books huh

After you two pick out the selections for the month, you two coffee hop. So, each month, you try a new cafe and you will spend hours just sipping coffee and reading.

He gave you a first edition copy of the first book that you recommended to him for your anniversary one year. Akaashi wrote you a letter, telling you how happy he was to have spent so much time with you and that he can’t wait to share more books with you and probably some really poetic stuff, because he’s a good writer, but he hid it in your favorite part, so you don’t get to read it right away.

Okay, now that I got that out of my head. Like Kuroo, Akaashi isn’t super into PDA, but he does like to hold your hand. He also always offers to carry your bag.

Akaashi likes to fidget with your fingers. The two of you could be out or just hanging at home, but he’s playing with your fingers. It’s just a habit for him. He used to fidget with his own hands a lot, but now he’s got yours, so not only does he get to keep his hands busy, he gets to hold onto your hand

He doesn’t get jealous. Or at least, you don’t think so. He’s really good at hiding any sense of envy he might feel. He doesn’t say anything. He knows that you can take care of yourself, but he’s likely right there next to you, possibly playing with your fingers behind your back.

It’s a really chill relationship dynamic for the most part. You two could be dating for a week and it’ll already feel like you’ve been together for years. You guys just vibe really well, so there was never that awkward stage at the beginning of the relationship. Likely because the two of you started off as friends, so slipping into dating wasn’t a very hard transition.

Akaashi isn’t one to say “I love you” a lot, but he really does love you more than anything. He likes to take care of you and he tries to give you the best life possible and that says I love you more than any words ever could.

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flovey-dovey · 5 years

Text

Part 2 of my thoughts on Klaus

Spoilers! Did I mention that already?

When they watch Margu playing in the light of dawn, Jesper puts his hand on Klaus’ arm and keeps it there rather than excitedly pat it once or twice to get his attention like a simple platonic friend might. And while Jesper watches her, Klaus watches Jesper with a very warm, affectionate look that Jesper doesn’t try to shirk or shrug awkwardly off.

When Klaus puts his hand on his back, Jesper just smiles wider, and when they return to Klaus’ property the look on the woodsman’s face as he listened to Jesper talk like a doting parent and his solid “I do” in reply to what he was saying says even more.

Heck- part of Klaus’ tragic past was that he and his wife never got to have children no matter how much they wanted and waited, and here comes Jesper with every child in Smeerenburg and beyond at his heels. Klaus even tells him this past, openly, freely and even with a chuckle or two, and right after saying how his life had fallen into aimless misery turns to say “and then you came along.”. Klaus even has Jesper blindfolded before showing him the sleigh with both their names carved into it at what was most likely his request.

Very couple-like and very sweet in my opinion. After the “liar revealed” scene, Klaus sees his name as he climbs in and hesitates, clearly thinking of him.

(also, notice in this shot how Jesper is centered with Klaus- not Alva)

And let’s not forget the mountainside scene after the big chase or the look on Klaus’ face when Jesper echoes his wife’s words with full conviction: “A true selfless act always sparks another”.

Now we’re nearing the end of the movie, so let’s talk about Jesper’s father some more. In the last quarter of the movie, his father comes back and he and Jesper go to the boat that would take them back home. Before they cast off, though, it’s said not long later that Jesper told his father “everything” and how he thought he’d be mad at him. Why? If it was work related, why would Jesper be afraid his father would get upset by him wanting to stay and do the job he gave him? That he wanted him to have? Why would he be afraid his father would get mad at him for finding love in Alva, if that truly was the case? Could it be that part of “everything” was how Jesper did find love, but that it was in someone who didn’t fit into society’s unrelentingly heteronormative mold (gonna be using that word a bit but I’m tired so bear with me), and as a result meant he wouldn’t fit either? Which brings me to a minor point of my opinion: did Jesper ever fit? It could’ve been another reason why his father was trying so hard to impose socially acceptable opportunities on him, or why Jesper had rebelled against them so stubbornly. Wishful thinking, I suppose.

(also, notice the look on Jesper’s face here when confronted by his father’s silent urging for him to come out with whatever he knew he had on his mind)

Before I wrap this up, here are a few other bits and pieces I wanted to mention:

* When Jesper talks at Margu after realizing their toy inventory was running low, he says “they” were running out of toys rather than “he” (Klaus) was running out of toys, which his arrogant self in the first half-ish part of the movie would’ve surely said.

* During one of the times Jesper talks at Margu and asked what he was supposed to do if he failed, he mentions Klaus and doesn’t even bring up Alva.

* Jesper, while talking to Alva about the school’s turnaround and her own change in outlook, looks and sounds more confused/baffled than teasing, flirty or pleased.

* The strongest moment Jesper and Alva share, emotionally, is never more than the one they share while helping Margu write her letter to Klaus. To my memory, he and Klaus share two very prominent ones, with a possible third or fourth (or fifth or sixth) on top of that.

* Alva gives Klaus a peck on the cheek instead of Jesper, who she presumably now has romantic feelings for. Why don’t they kiss before the ending “where are they now” bit? At all?

* Alva, when watching the townies ice skating with Jesper, doesn’t move to pull him out onto the ice for some potentially romantic happenings if she had turned to see the troubled look on his face, laughing and smiling to try and cheer him up or going out on the town to partake in the festivities. This could’ve shown us more of Alva’s character and it would’ve been better than just NARRATING IT AT THE ENDING. And, yes, I know movies have deadlines, but it didn’t have to be more than ten seconds long and could’ve given a look into the town’s culture as it started to reform, and afterwards Jesper could’ve still gone back to the post office to build Margu’s little sleigh, possibly with some encouragement from Alva. Nothing had to change, but it wouldn’t have hurt to at least show their romance forming since a few seconds can go a long way.

* During the ending chase, Klaus and Jesper are literally having a lover’s quarrel.

* Klaus acting like an embarrassed husband when he steps up all covered in red from head to toe and Jesper joking with him about it, earning another hearty laugh from Klaus with ease, and Klaus’ apparent concern when Jesper urges his father outside to talk privately.

* The entirety of the reindeer scene and as they ride off, laughing, when their eyes meet and they realize they were having fun in each other’s company- very naturally, at that.

* Klaus lamenting how their time working together was coming to an end and with it their main reason for being with each other, as underplayed as the both of them make it seem.

* Jesper makes Klaus laugh; them sharing laughs together where I don’t recall seeing Jesper having the same thing with Alva, nor do I remember seeing her making him laugh.

* Klaus picking up and just holding Jesper will never not be cute to me.

So, in short, I hate heteronormative romances- especially when they come out of nowhere and have to be NARRATED at the END of the movie with little to no prior build up or implications that, yes, this is how you should’ve been expecting things to end up (yes I’m still upset about the ending). I saw it coming the second I saw the official trailer and after witnessing all the bonding between Klaus and Jesper I can’t help but feel cheated- dragged along for the ride like I was watching the Titanic sinking as someone was describing an entirely different outcome at the same time. They built Klaus and Jesper’s relationship- romantic, platonic, what-have-you- and then ripped it away to shove something completely unwarranted into my face instead.

If they’re going to have the guy get together with the girl, if they have interactions that show the feeling is mutual and more than friendship, trust and respect (which every good romance should have by default), if they WANT to be together and feel attracted and desire to be together, then I’m all for it- that’s what I expect love to be. But I still feel betrayed and sad and angry at the ending, especially since I feel like Alva and Jesper got together for the simple reason of deterring people like me from thinking Jesper and Klaus would or should end up together, even to the point of killing him off. I can’t prove it, and I’m sure that’s not why he died, but I’m going to say something that I know sounds mean but I don’t mean it spitefully:

I don’t care.

I don’t care if Klaus’ death and the ending it was attached to was poetic or happy-sad, bittersweet or what-have-you. I can’t help but not care because I literally haven’t seen anything break the relationship mold in a movie since I was shown my first movie or read my first romantic novel.

In any case, this movie came so, so close to being the most cathartic thing I’ve ever seen and it makes me so, so sad to have it fall prey to a completely standard method of storytelling endings when it presented such a vibrant and unique setting with the done-to-death theme of Christmas. You don’t even know how sad it makes me where, in this world of cowards afraid to make art for fear of losing money (which, I understand, everybody needs) or properly represent underrepresented groups of individuals or have a man and woman become friends and REMAIN purely friends- maybe even being the wingman/woman for their own relationship- I, against my fears, genuinely thought this film, this beautiful, inspiring masterpiece of animation, would be able to give me the shameless, unabashed and genuine non-heteronormative love I have still yet to see in a movie that doesn’t end in tragedy or act to disgrace anyone from that spectrum.

Klaus and Jesper saw parts of each other- ugly, angry, funny and secret- that nobody else saw, did things for each other that for the life of me I couldn’t find being done for the romance we were “supposed” to root for or even see coming (but, come on, “of course” they got together- what were you expecting, you wishful idiot?). For a movie with the underlying theme of how love was always better than letting spite fester into hate, it sure didn’t give me much to believe in terms of Jesper and Alva hooking up in the end. They could’ve had a friendly sort of love, but we can’t always get what we want. On that note, Pumpkin and Olaf (if that’s what his name is- I forget) getting married in the ending could’ve posed to the two clans “you hate each other, but don’t you love me?”, putting the leaders of both clans in the position of questioning their history and tradition of generations past so they didn’t lose the bonds they have in the present and that new traditions could be worth the effort for the sake of a better future. It’d be nice to see.

Anyway, no matter how it ended, you can’t tell me that Klaus and Jesper weren’t pining for each other more and more throughout the film. You can’t. Because I saw it, and no amount of ham-fisted “oh by the way” narration had to tell me it was happening or was planned “all along”.

Peace out and Merry Christmas to you all, gosh dang it.

- Flovey~Dovey

#Klaus #text post #Jesper #Alva #Klausper #TALL AND SMAAAAALL #part 2

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shadowsinger11 · 4 years

Note

Dear Bobi,

It’s been a few days since my last letter, and I know we’ve talked face to face in that time, especially because your letter was so poetic I didnt even try to write back to it because there’s no way I can compete with that, are you mad?! Had me close to tears! So, it was only natural that I replied with my unbelievable talent of flirting. Still cant believe that after I flustered you, you decided to get me back by kissing me on the cheek and then running off to lesson. This means war! In the sweetest, most adoring way possible.

Anyway, you might think this is unnecessary because we’ve spoken since our last letters. But, I’ll have you know this is a very special occasion, because today is the birthday of the most beautiful girl in the world!!! That’s you, by the way. And if any day you deserve to receive a letter, it’s this one!

Obviously, Fred and I have planned the whole day (even set up a particularly special prank on Snape just for you, ever wondered what he’d look like with bright pink hair?), but I feel there’s only one way I can start your day off right. For that reason, I’ll be waiting at the astronomy tower to ask you a very special question. You dont have to say yes, but I think even if you do say no, when you see what I’ve got planned you’ll change your mind anyway! It’s time for me to test out my own Gryffindor chivalry by making this the best day ever, because that is what my favourite person in the entire world deserves!

And there is also another question, an even more vital one, life or death, some might say...is birthday cake an appropriate choice of breakfast? Because if you dont think it is, Fred and I will have to hide the cake from Ron until you feel it’s the right time to eat it. The day is yours, as is the choice of how long we deprive my younger brother of cake!

Oh, also, Mum’s made you a special edition Weasley jumper because I wrote her a letter telling her I’d finally confessed, and after hearing me ramble about you for years on end she burst into tears and made the entire thing in one night. A non-Christmas, birthday-special jumper, just for you! This is the only present Im allowed to spoil, and Im allowed to spoil it because Mum has instructed me to give you the jumper first thing, which Im going to deliver with this letter!

Errol actually managed to deliver the last one on time, so I definitely dont trust him to do that twice in a row, and instead Im going to deliver this to you myself. Might even throw in a wink if you’re lucky ;)

Oh, and happy birthday, darling!

All my love,

The-Less-Handsome-Half-Of-Your-Birthday-Organising-Team.

P.S. Fred stole the parchment from my hands to write that because he doesnt want me getting all the credit, the prat.

Ok this literally had me sobbing into my buttered slice of bread, it's fantastic!! I'm so bloody happy to be reading this first thing in the morning, thank you so much for blessing me with this wonderful gift, I'm happy beyond words!!

***

Dear George,

You're speaking of poetic, yet you have me sobbing first thing in the morning, unable to form words as to how incredibly happy you've just made me. I usually pride myself in my writing skills, but you have me speechless even as I'm trying to pour my feelings out on paper. I hope you're satisfied with this fact.

A war, you say? Bring it on, Weasley. I'm ready for it.

I absolutely approve of this glorious plan because, let's face it - bright pink matches his personality. I'm not making it up, it's facts. Also, cake does sound perfect for breakfast, please don't make our dear Ronniekins starve. At least not that much.

I expect nothing but fabulous pranks from you and Fred, and I'm sure you'll outdo yourselves like you always manage to do despite me already being truly stunned in the first place.

I am currently wearing the jumper which your mom knitted for me, and I'm actually crying because there is no way in Godric's name I'm ever going to express just how grateful I am for having you in my life, especially on days like this. You know I'm a hopeless romantic by nature (something you should probably get used to), so I'm going to say you're definitely the most amazing thing to happen to me, the greatest gift of them all, my love.

You might be deemed The-Less-Handsome-Half-Of-My-Birthday-Organising-Team, but you're always going to be The-Most-Handsome-Man-To-Have-Stolen-My-Heart, because you caught it between your claws without an ounce of mercy, and ever since then I've been a slave to you.

Can't wait to meet you in a bit, and I'll be wearing the jumper you gave me. It's unbelievably soft to the touch and I adore it, but I much prefer yours instead.

Yours forever,

Bobi

P.S. Thanks a lot for turning me into a mess, the mascara will be hell to remove.

***

Send me a letter from my favorite character!

#bobi answers #anon asks #george weasley #fred weasley #weasley twins

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olympiansally · 3 years

Note

Good morning my love ✨ I hope you are having just a splendid day. I am listening to music & reading today & trying to enjoy the weather (even though it is incredibly gloomy outside). I hope you are doing well & being kind to yourself, making sure that you are taking it easy. You are very cared for & I hope you remember that always ✨

Good morning my love 🥰

My god i’ve missed you. Entirely my fault, i know! This lovely message has been sitting on my inbox for almost two weeks and i am only answering it now.

And i have to warn you, this is true to style a dramatic love letter. A very long dramatic love letter to be precise.

I’ll start by apologizing for the delay and i honestly can’t apologize enough. I’d like to explain it though, because you deserve to know or maybe just because i want you to, i don’t really know.

I had a bit of a hard time with my depression relapsing and well, i couldn’t bring myself to answer this. Partially because i have a hard time talking to people when i feel that way, but mostly because i didn’t feel like i deserved it. You are too sweet and too kind and i didn’t feel like i could live up to it.

In a way i felt like i wasn’t worthy of replying to you and then, because you spoiled me so much with your wonderful words, i started missing you.

That’s the thing about my brain playing tricks on me though, i believe it and then i make it true. See, because i felt like these were far too kind and far more than i deserve, i couldn’t bring myself to reply, which made me act rude and spoiled.

So while i can’t even explain how much i’ve missed you and these, i also know it is completely my fault. I fucked up my love and i’m sorry.

It’s ironic in a way that i’m unfortunately too used to dealing with, but the feeling that i was unworthy made me act in a way that turned that into a reality and well, i can only apologize.

Now that i’m doing much better i can actually see what i did and how me not responding probably seemed incredibly entitled and like i took these for granted. And yes, that was entirely my mistake. The truth however was the complete opposite. I appreciate these so much and they mean so incredibly much to me that i couldn’t accept them in a time when i felt so completely unworthy of this affection.

These are the absolute nicest things and i love them so much. You have no idea how much your wonderful messages and you mean to me. I can’t apologize enough for letting my thoughts get away from me and take over, because this is such nice and pure affection that i can’t even believe i managed to act so completely wrong about it.

And you know what destroys me the most about it my love? That it was exactly what i needed to hear. The most ironic thing about it is that you wrote me asking me to be kind to myself and to remember i was cared for and that was just what i needed.

That’s honestly breaking my heart, because you said exactly the right thing, my love.

But my heart and my brain can be incredibly treacherous at times and this time they got the best of me.

It’s interesting to mention my heart here, because in a twisted way it goes to show how much i care about you, even if it’s showing it in a very stupid way. But the thought of not deserving this wrecked me. I mean, depression wrecked me - obviously and it was brought on by other unrelated things of course, but involved such a feeling of worthlessness and unworthiness that it made this particular spiral happen - but the fact that this was one of the little knifes my brain chose to twist inside me? Very telling really.

And my love i really do care about you so much you know? Confession: I tried to check up on you, since i couldn’t bring myself to reply to this level of affection. And there’s the catch right? Because while i have my suspicions and i did to the best of my knowledge check to see if you were okay, i couldn’t really know could i?

So i guess this is me now asking you how you are and hoping you’re well and happy! It’s so interesting that i can check on who i think you are off anon whenever, but the answer won’t be as real. Here you are free to tell me anything, protected as you are by anonymity, and this might be one of the times i’m most grateful for it because otherwise i might have never answered this. If i could know for sure you were doing well off anon i would probably have continued to avoid the feeling of being unworthy of this and you and all your sweet wonderful messages that would have come with any earlier attempt to answer it. But i couldn’t. Because while i suspect, i still have doubts and they led me back here, to the only way to ask for sure. So i’m asking, how have you been my love? I hope you have been well and enjoying the nice things you are always so kind to tell me about. I hope you enjoyed your music and you reading and even the gloomy weather you mentioned in this message!

And it’s so interesting and ironic and romantic that i might have been interacting with you off anon this entire time and these last weeks while avoiding this because i couldn’t allow myself to accept someone having this much affection for me. But caring about you is what brought me here, made me have to face your words and your feelings and really, how poetic it is that i had to check for sure because i care about you but had to see your words and deal with accepting you care about me in order to do it?

It’s what i mean when i say this is the stuff of romance novels. Because here i was worrying you didn’t really know me and would be disappointed if you ever got to, but you do don’t you my love? You know me enough to always know exactly what i need to hear in the most cosmically ironic way because you couldn’t have known why i needed it. And that’s the most sickly sweet romantic shit because now that i’m not projecting for the bad, i’m projecting for the far too good so forgive me for being dramatic, but what type of star crossed romance plot thing is this? I mean, me being scared of you not really knowing me when you do this well? Me worrying i don’t really know you when i do because the things you tell me like this, how caring and amazing and sweet i know you to be? It feels planned and plotted somehow and god do i love it.

Anyway, the epic loving romance writer in me might have taken over there for a bit, my apologies. Because my own romantic ramblings are oddly not the point of me writing this.

The point here, my love, is that i missed you. I missed you so much. And i care about you and wanted to check on you even though i couldn’t be sure if i really was. I know you so much better like this than i do otherwise and it’s such an irony of destiny that i know so many wonderful things you’ve told me about yourself but don’t know your name for sure. I know enough that i was tempted to list it, but refrained from it as to not make you anxious over how much i noticed but you should know it is all very lovely and appreciated.

You are so special my love, and you have been so incredibly special to me that i do wish i could know who you are. Today however, i’m grateful i don’t. And it might make me sound spoiled and selfish again, but it’s true. You see my love, if i knew who you are for sure i would have just kept convincing myself i didn’t deserve any of it and might even start to think you didn’t mean the lovely things you say. But since i don’t know who you are for sure i had to come back here in order to really know i was talking to you and in doing so i had to confront it and believe you, because why would you do any of this if you didn’t mean it? And you’ve told me so many times that you only want me to know that i’m loved. So i want you to know you are loved too.

I’m much worse at it then you apparently and i make mistakes and let my brain trick me and disappear for days. But i’m sorry and i missed you. I care about and even if i can’t know for sure who you are i do know you. I know you are sweet and caring and full of love, i know you are a romantic as much as i am, i know you enjoy the small pleasures of life like a sunny day or pretty flowers and i know you are lovely enough to want to tell me about them. I know you are wonderfully caring enough to continuously wish me well and unbelievably loving enough to have written me all these beautiful messages. I know other things too of course, more tangible things that make me think i know who you are in addition to knowing you, but really aren’t those less important when i already have all of these to show me how special you are?

This isn’t to mean that i don’t want to know who you are, because it would be nice to be sure one day, if you ever want me to. This is just me saying that yes, i’m not sure of who you are, but i don’t have to be in order to care about you.

And now that i’m more clear headed i know that you know me too. You couldn’t have written the perfect words to reach my heart in each and every one of your messages if you didn’t. You know me and you care about me still. I can only hope to be able to trust myself that i won’t disappoint you now.

This went in circles i think, and it might be a little too convoluted so i apologize for that, but the heart speaks less clearly than the mind and i think the feeling will come across.

And in writing this there was in fact so much feeling, my love. So much so that i couldn’t even make my words be pretty. To be honest i think it might not even properly qualify as a love letter, but for you i don’t know what else to call it.

And god do you deserve one.

Well, another one. The first one i wrote you was perhaps more beautiful than this, but i hope it pleases you all the same. I wanted to write it, messy and convoluted and honest, to tell you how much i care about you and how afraid i am of not living up to your wonderful words. So here it is my love, less love letter and perhaps more confessionary as i tell you the mistake i made and the foolish insecurity fueled reasons for it. But a letter of confession is still a letter and this one is meant to let you know that you are cared for and appreciated and that the love you’ve given me with your messages means so much to me - as do you.

The longer this goes on, the cheesier i get so i have to finish it before it gets even more out of hand.

I want to thank you for all of this, my love. For all the lovely messages and the gentle reminders, for always making me feel special and loved, for being so selfless and caring. Thank you for giving me all this love that i appreciate too much to put in words properly. Thank you for being as hopeless a romantic as i am, my love. Thank you for giving me something so perfect even when i wasn’t.

You always tell me that i am loved. I don’t tell you nearly enough, but you are too.

As always, there’s a risk you won’t see this, but i’m hoping you will. I hope it reaches you and makes you feel loved too. I’ll keep hoping, in the way only such a silly romantic optimist could.

Love, Lu

#so #the fact that they might not even see this #it’s fr killing me bro #but if you do #then good morning my love i’ve missed you #also this is SO LONG i’m sorry jsisksiaksks #but ahhh there was a lot to say #and anyway #fuck i hope they see this #because if not idek bro anyway #i might have gotten carried away because when i say that this is long #i mean that it is LOOONNGG #lmao

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mcheang · 4 years

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Thanks for doing my weird request. Can I see a sequel showing how Marin and Adrienne got together eventually between Marin coming home and him going to Italy with her?

Together

Considering we haven’t seen a return of Valentine’s Day after Party Crasher...

Adrienne wasn’t sure when it was OK to ask Marin out, but surely Valetine’s day was a good day to test the waters, right?

But just in case Marin still wasn’t ready and would reject her, Adrienne decided to send a secret love poem. With some help and feedback from the poetic Marcy.

What Adrienne had forgotten was that Marin was quite popular with the ladies, even more so now with his prince status. Her love letter was lost in a flood of love letters.

Marin was dumbfounded.

Adrienne saw an opportunity to make sure Marin read her letter. “Here, let me help. I’ve had experience managing piles of fan letters.”

Marin: thanks, Adrienne. Did you also have this same greeting when you opened your locker?

Adrienne: No. Most of the letters get sent to my home. I’m safe from locker ambushes.

Marin: ha. Well, it beats surprise love confessions.

Adrienne: oh, are you still on that dating hiatus?

Marin: I don’t think so. But I want someone to date me for me, not because I turned into a prince.

Adrienne: well, maybe you should look among your friends before you went to Italy.

Marin glanced at her before he looked away, hiding his blush. “Maybe.”

After Adrienne helped Marin reorganise the letters, she went to Nina for advise.

Adrienne: my love letter stated why I loved him and I even told him to meet me at this cute little cafe if he agreed to be my valentine. But he doesn’t even know it’s me! He could think I’m one of his fans.

Nina: relax. I’ve seen your letter. You basically mentioned how you liked how he was even before he became a prince. Remember, how you described his gaming skills, how he helped reunite his family, and even how he helped Lady Noir escape from Evillustrator’s glass box? Btw, how did you know all that stuff anyway...

Adrienne:....from Allen.

Nina: don’t worry. I’m pretty sure Marin will know his secret admirer is a true Friend.

Adrienne: I hope you’re right.

Nina was so right. Marin had been curious and found Adrienne at the cafe. He was pleased to see she was his secret admirer and admitted to having an old crush on her. Adrienne was sorry it took her so long to realize, but they had the present to make up for missed opportunities.

Anyway, that was the start of their romantic relationship. Despite Gabrielle’s attempts to intervene, Adrienne put her foot down and insisted on keeping Marin in her life or she would report her Mother to child authorities. I’m pretty sure they would be interested to see how Gabrielle treats her own Daughter.

When it came time for university applications, Marin knew he didn’t need to apply since his grand-Uncle already got him set for Italy. Adrienne was just happy to be able to go to University and she longed for freedom from her mother’s tyranny. She didn’t have a planned dream job. But that’s alright. That’s why university allows you to change courses.

Adrienne applied for the same university as Marin and got in. She would be taking business management course.

Gabrielle influenced her course decision because she would not pay for college fees otherwise.

Adrienne didn’t care. She was going to university with the love of her life!

#miraculous ladybug fanfic #miraculous ladybug fic #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction #ml fic #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #adrienette #genderbend fic #the prince diaries

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rustbeltjessie · 4 years

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Diary of an Emotional Masochist, Chapter One: Dignity and Shame

I am an emotional masochist. I’m the kind of person, who, when I’m already going through a bout of nostalgic melancholy, will decide to read old journal entries or look through old photographs. The kind of person who, when it’s three a.m. and I can’t sleep because I’m thinking about what loves have come and gone (to borrow a phrase from Edna St. Vincent Millay), will get up and Google search those loves. I am the kind of woman who, when I’m already sad, will listen to an album that devastates me. I have a long list of albums that it’s almost too painful to listen to, albums that remind me of such specific times in my life that listening to them takes me right back to where I was then. A different person would purge their record collection and iTunes library of such albums, but, like I said – I am an emotional masochist. On lonesome evenings, after a couple glasses of whiskey, nothing sounds better to me than spinning one of those records (or queueing up one of those playlists). This is one of those lonesome-whiskey evenings, so won’t you join me in indulging? We’re listening to Crooked Fingers’ Dignity and Shame.

From the first sparse, haunting notes of “Islero,” I am transported back in time to the summer of 2005. God, that summer. That terrible, wonderful summer. I’d fucked up my life the year before, and I thought that would be the summer I’d fix it, except all I did was fuck it up even more. God, that summer. That March, I moved away from Chicago after living there for five years. I planned on moving to Milwaukee come autumn, to start fresh in a fresh town. In the meantime, I moved back in with my parents. I wasn’t home, much. Nights, after work, I went to one of the two bars in Kenosha where all my sad drunk hoodlum friends hung out. On days off, I walked in the woods – the heat was relentless, and the canopy of trees offered cool green comfort. Or I drove to Chicago to see shows and drink with my friends and try to remember why I’d left; drove to Milwaukee to scope out neighborhoods, sit for hours at the Hi-Fi Cafe, go record and dress shopping. On one of my record shopping expeditions, I bought Dignity and Shame. It was on the Staff Recommendations shelf, and I liked the cover art, so I took it home with me – and it was serendipity, it was exactly the album I needed at the time.

As soon as I got home, I set it spinning on my turntable, and the first track – “Islero” – gave me goosebumps. The second track – “Weary Arms” – made me cry. It had sad cellos and a lonesome cowboy guitar, and Eric Bachmann’s voice was a raspy baritone: Beware of strangers knocking at your door. Old lovers, too. Don’t think for one second they’ve forgotten you. Oh, oh, oh. By the time the final, hidden track played, I’d melted into a puddle of tears and goosebumps on my bedroom floor. The album destroyed me, and it spooked me because so many of the stories sounded like things right out of my life, both from that year and six or so years before it. It was like Eric Bachmann had read my diary and set it to music. I wanted to write him a letter and say: “Get out of my head, god damn it! Get out of my aching heart.” It’s impossible for me to write about Dignity and Shame, or about the summer of 2005, without descending into hyperbole, sentimental poetry, and melodrama. My God, that summer was hyperbole, sentimental poetry, and melodrama. I was still young enough that it was acceptable to feel things that intensely, acceptable to talk about a sunrise over Lake Michigan by saying things like: “When the light shot through the horizon in streaks of peach and gold, it was the most god damn beautiful thing I’d ever seen.” Dear diary, listen to me.

My “Weary Arms” wrapped tight around so many lovers, that summer – four of them, plus a handful of brief flings. Later that year, I lamented that I hadn’t had as many wild love affairs as I’d had in years past, which, yes, says something unflattering about me. And Eric Bachmann sang: You have many enemies, for reasons no one’s certain of.

One night, while I sat at one of the bars and waited for my friends to arrive, a girl approached me. I didn’t know her, but she knew me. She sat down across from me and lambasted me for sleeping with a guy she’d been dating at the time…two years before. She called me a slut, and some worse things. I wanted to buy her a drink, to appease her. I couldn’t understand why she hated me so much. When I slept with that guy, I had no idea he had a girlfriend. So many enemies, so many lovers, but could a jaded girl like me heed an uptempo “Call To Love?” In that song, Eric took the role of a particular one of my lovers, and said: Won’t you hear my heart? I’m transmitting a call to love. On a night when the moon was orange-red and luminous, that lover said: “The moon is the color of your hair.” Another night: “You were born in the wrong era, Jess.” And, though I was a sucker for sentimental poetry, my guard was up. Lara Meyerratken answered for me: Don’t need my heart kicked ‘round the block no more. You may be smooth-talking, daddy, but I’ve heard it all before. I traded gossip with the “Twilight Creeps.” In this sweet-sad song with the bright piano and the shimmering backup vocals, I was both the singer and the sung about. I could have sung it to one of my lovers, should have said to her: Flower, don’t dig so deep so you don’t go anywhere. But the words were also about me: You say someday you’re gonna float away. Take yourself some kind of holiday. I often told my sad drunk hoodlum friends, the twilight creeps, that I needed to get the hell out of town. “If I could just get gone for more than a few days, go somewhere more than a few hours away…there ain’t no use in trying to make me stay.”

My lovers all wanted to make me stay. The flower-girl, I’ll call her Valerie. The one who spoke poetic words to me, I’ll call him Jack. And there was Lon, and Carmine. In different ways, for different reasons, they each wanted me to choose them over all the rest. Even a few of the week-long flings and one-night stands, older punk guys or younger hippie girls, said things to me like: “How did I get so lucky as to meet a girl like you?” Or: “So, are you my girlfriend now?” And when I said no, they called me a heartbreaker. A “Destroyer.” It’s a woebegone cowboy of a tune. Doleful drums, piano that tinkles like ice cubes in a bar glass, and a lap steel guitar – which, as far as I’m concerned, is the aural equivalent of an anti-hero walking off into the sunset. The song is all about how the singer is going to make someone his, and then he’s going to leave them behind. When they called me heartbreaker, I wanted to sing it: Lay down, just let it come, and resign your heart, today, to get blown away. “Valerie,” well, that’s why I’m referring to that lover as Valerie. Much like me, she was a punk rock girl turned heroine of a Tom Waits song (heroine of a Crooked Fingers song). She had thriftstore dresses and jailhouse tattoos and self-inflicted scars. “Valerie,” the song, has a sanguine strut, is a besotted love song, and I thought of Valerie, the girl: Red roses, silk, you in your sleek summer dress. You were light, revelation, oh, I love you the best. But she and I kept our love unspoken. We both had other romantic complications, and only touched each other on long hot nights after too many bottles of wine and too many pills. “Sleep All Summer” was my song for Jack, the young ex-goth whose mouth was pink and pouty like he’d been sucking on a strawberry popsicle. Our love was either all the good songs and kissing ’til our lips were raw, or it was screaming matches and hangover headaches. What bliss is this, and then he’d get attention-starved and whiny, and I’d burn hot and cold and say nasty things, and we’d say: “This is it, we’re through.” But – There ain’t no way we’re gonna find another, the way we sleep all summer. Why won’t you fall back in love with me? And we’d run into each other at the bar, and faster than our friends could say I told you so we’d be tangled up in the backseat of his car or rolling around by the lake, and the whole thing would start all over again. He’d play the martyr, and I’d say: I would change for you, but babe, that doesn’t mean I’m gonna be a better man.

And “Coldways” kill cool lovers. Lon was a folk singer from the north woods. He’d been one of my best friends for years already, and when we started dating I was so tired of complicated, fiery relationships that I mistook comfort for True Love. My heart still hurts when I think of how I hurt him. He wanted me to marry him and I just wanted to be drunk and in love, to listen to “Coldways”’s thrumming, swelling sound. To sing along: Come out, come on, tonight the city’s alive. “Wrecking Ball” has a jaunty, punchdrunk piano, and the piano had been drinking, but so had I. God, I drank so much that summer. On the rare night I spent at home, I holed up in my room, wrote long, sad, tales of people in the legend of my life, and drank blackberry brandy mixed with Sprite. Something like that would taste over-sweet to me now, make me shudder, but maybe the same part of me that craved sentimental poetry also thirsted for sugary drinks. And most nights, I wasn’t at home. Most nights, I changed clothes in my car after work. I swapped my reeking-of-pizza button down shirt and black slacks for one of my vintage dresses. A mint green confection, or a pink and white sundress. Something from the ‘50s, blue with red and white polka dots, or a slinky black number that a ‘30s jazz singer would have worn. And I sat at one of two bars, drank whiskey and Coke, or brandy old-fashioneds, or gin and tonics all night long. I waited for my friends to arrive, and I drank and smoked and entertained myself with one of the items I always had in my bag – a book of poetry by Dorothy Parker or Edna St. Vincent Millay, a deck of Alice In Wonderland tarot cards. And sometimes, someone would find me intriguing. I swear, I wasn’t a Manic Pixie Dream Girl, but… I was a redhead in a retro dress (usually with a strand of fake pearls, too) sitting in a dive bar, smoking pastel-colored cigarettes, reading sonnets and tarot cards. Christ. Often, someone found me intriguing, chatted me up, and I wound up with yet another lover. I was a destroyer, destroying myself with booze and love. I was a wrecking ball. Eric Bachmann, accompanied by that barroom piano, sang: And you laughed and you danced, and it let you feel fine for a while. Hanging out with the kids who you knew soon would fall out of style.

I’ve left two songs out, dear diary. I did it on purpose, because they are the two that hurt the most. They are also the two that heal the most. The kind of songs that make me weep, then tell me to dry my tears. “You Must Build A Fire,” oh, it is one of the saddest songs. It begins with only two guitars (a finger-picked lead and that god damn lap steel again), and Eric’s voice is so plaintive, sounds like it’s about to crack, and he sings: Oh, gracious love, you were so kind to me. You only broke my heart, let my arms and legs stay strong. So I could swim upon the open sea, searching for another love. Floating along aimlessly. I haven’t told you about Carmine, yet. Carmine was a musician who looked like a magician from an old-time carnival. The year before, he’d ruined me in a worse way than any other lover ever had. (As a friend put it, he was one of the ones who fucked me up so bad I was pretty much ruined for anyone else.) He ruined me, but I let him back into my life. That summer, we got together. It was supposed to be closure, but of course it just opened everything up again. He said: “I want to be with you. I want to try again.” I said: “Okay, yes, let’s start over. I want to be with you.” He said: “Only if you break things off with all your other lovers. I want to be your only.” The nerve, giving me an ultimatum like that when he was even more of a notorious libertine than I was. And the song sang: I had someone, a love I thought was true. But sometimes you just get tired, and you must try not to die. And give your love, though no one may receive. You must build a giant fire, for the whole wide world to see. It sounded like that whole heartbroken, hot summer. Oh, where are you, love?

The title track, “Dignity and Shame,” is a piano ballad that told me: To be sure, there ain’t no cure. There could be no one to save you. It is the track I return to over and over, more than any other track on the album. Though my life has calmed down a lot in the decade since that summer, sometimes – that feeling comes, you’ve been here once before. That wicked feeling you don’t want to feel no more. And then, Eric Bachmann (get out my head, god damn it!) sings: You’re not the same as the day that you came. You can choose dignity, or shame.

I choose dignity. I carry my broken heart like a torch in the night. Little keeper of light, burning deep, burning bright in the dark.

[originally appeared in Witchsong in October 2015]

#jessie lynn mcmains #my writing #music #memoir #crooked fingers #dignity and shame #2015 #2005 #love #lovers #heartbreak #panic attacks #drugs #alcohol #lyrics #this is still one of my favorite pieces of music writing i've ever written #and since witchsong has gone dark i thought i'd share it here

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