ok so i got a few tags for this so why not i guess (now that i've posted 2 more lolz)
thanks @sparklepocalypse @stellarmeadow & @thighzp for the tags
RULES: post the first lines of your last 10 fics/chapters posted on AO3 (if you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics) and try to draw some conclusions
First Lines from most to least recent (not including friday ficlet collections)
Alex is nearly bouncing out of his seat on the plane, and Henry can’t quite figure out why. (bringing home silver - FP)
Alex is in the kitchen at Kensington when Shaan walks in. (in the kitchen, at kensington, with those threadbare pajama pants - alex/shaan)
Alex Claremont-Diaz has always considered himself a bit of an enigma, even before he became a werewolf and opened an all-night coffee shop, Moonlight Coffee. (nights at the moonlight coffe shop - FP)
Alex swears there was still a Helados left in the freezer but cannot for the life of him find it. (my slutty royal - FP)
"Henry, you pick them so well," Philip whispered against Alex's neck. (2 is better than 1 - 3 is better than 2 (when we’re back at 2 wanna stay there with u) - henry/alex/pip)
Liam usually does not go out to clubs, at least not by himself, and hasn’t for years. (and fight the break of dawn - southern philanthropy)
Alex is not sure how it got this far; he put it in the document as a joke, knowing Henry or June would catch it, and if they didn’t, it would surely get noticed by all the editors working on the book. (just a bit of fun - FP)
Henry’s a connoisseur of one-night stands, so when he says that last night’s, who is somehow still here in the morning, was amazing, he is saying something, really. (makin' memories i might remember - FP)
Once upon a time, there lived two young princes, Prince Henry Fox of Windsor and Prince Alexander Diaz of Claremont. (baby just say yes - FP)
He’s got a sucker in his mouth again; the way he sucks on it, Alex just knows that if he ever got those lips around his cock it would be heaven. (something in your mouth - FP)
so analysis
- in general (other than a couple) i do a wordy first sentence
- you can tell from the first sentence on all except maybe 1 whose pov it's in from the first sentence - that other one is clear by the 2nd sentence tho
- with the exception of fairytale i drop ya right into whatever is going on
- i've been told that line 5 is an amazing opening sentence and funnily enough it came to me in the middle of publix when i was grabbing some groceries lolz
so tag ur it! (if ya haven't already done this and i just missed it or forgot lolz) @typicalopposite @adreamareads @taste-thewaste @eusuntgratie @emmalostinwonderland
When Ronan Lynch was first given voice in The Dream Thieves, I was excited. He is definitely the most interesting pov character. By turns, he is poignant, funny and a total shit. His dreaming is presented as a sort of cross between being a gifted child and having a chronic disease, both of which are isolating, and which both feed into the depression he regularly experiences. He is an immensely relatable character. I think that's why so many readers take his pov at face value.
Chapter 12 in The Dream Thieves presents what, to me, is one of the most troubling scenes in the series. This is the chapter in which Ronan meets his brothers at church. Declan is obviously injured. In chpt 2, Declan had just survived a terrible assault from the Gray Man. As described, he had head injuries severe enough that I'm surprised Maggie didn't give him chronic migraines in addition to an incipient ulcer. And Ronan's reaction to seeing this?
"Ronan's mood improved."
This nearly sank Ronan as a character for me.
This is his brother we are talking about. I know they don't have a particularly good relationship, and with the reveals in the Christmas story and TDT, we know it goes back farther than Niall's death or the will. But still. Who gets happy seeing another person brutally beaten?
Then the narrative switches to Declan's story that he was beaten up by burglars, which Ronan knows is a lie. Ronan briefly considers who could have beaten up his brother, who he knows to be a good fighter. But then he says to himself "It was like the truth was a disease Declan thought might kill him."
At this point in the story, we have been told that Declan is a liar, a calculating man-whore, who cheats on his girlfriends and trots out his brother's trauma to get laid, is bossy and controlling, and possibly homophobic and just a general asshole, all filtered through Ronan's pov. (In fairness, Declan's not perfect. The lying, bossing and controlling are all true. He's also crabby.) But by bringing up Declan's lying at this point, Ronan implies that Declan somehow deserved the beating because he's a general asshole. But isn't this dangerously close to blaming the victim?
I eventually circled back around to liking Ronan. He's still relatable. He's also the victim of unusual circumstances, flawed parenting and his own poor choices.
One of the central themes in The Dreamer Trilogy is coming to terms with your own self hatred. Three of the principle characters hate themselves. In Hennessey's and Declan's cases, this stems primarily from parental abuse and neglect. In Ronan's case, it's a bit more complex. I think Ronan's is caused by three things:
1. The conflict between being a devout Catholic and gay man. Personally, I think this is the least of it. By the time you reach CDTH, he's pretty openly out, and seems to have made peace with it.
2. The gifted child / chronic illness thing. These are circumstances beyond Ronan's control. And they are truly isolating for him. The moment he realized he couldn't be with Adam at Harvard and he was stuck accepting that all of Adam's friends must think of him as a hopeless fuck-up, was truly heart wrenching. (And Declan's suggestion to Adam that he blame it all on Ronan, while practical, certainly showed some resentment on Declan's part).
3. But the biggest reason is this. There was a very dangerous dynamic going on in the Lynch family. Two children were favored, and one was isolated and excluded, made to work, and regularly placed in dangerous situations. Of course, Ronan only witnessed the first two. But witnessing the abuse of a sibling can mess you up almost as much as the victim. Ronan learned to think treating Declan this way was normal. He accepted the narrative that Declan was somehow deficient and therefore deserved to be treated badly. Even in CDTH, the way Ronan treats Declan is appalling.
How do you reconcile this with the Ronan who fought Adam's father to protect him, who has such high ideals, who wants to be a hero? Well, you can't. In accepting the abuse Declan's received as normal and deserved, Ronan has been perpetuating it.
For those of you who've read the other stuff I've written here, you've probably realized I keep circling back to the same place.
The biggest lie Ronan has been telling himself is that the way he treats Declan is normal and okay. Until Ronan recognizes that he had been perpetuating his brother's abuse, and makes amends, he will never be true to his ideals, will never learn kindness, will never grow up and become a hero. Eventually, this will affect his relationship with Adam, who has eyes and who is an abuse victim himself.
So the only way forward is for Ronan to grow up, recognize his behavior and make amends by taking Declan's concerns seriously and treating him with kindness.
Tell us about your current project(s) – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?
oh l o r d i'm working on. a number of different WIPs tbh lies down they're all tcr-related atm tho. but if i narrowed them down to those which i intend to Finish and most likely publish at some point, we end up with uhhh. five?? five fics lies down
this is going to be a long ramble isn't it let me just preemptively throw down a readmore i'm so sorry
a condensed history of natori's career in the kingdom of cats
aka the 'young natori and cat king meet and Hate Each Other' fic jfifeoa honestly just an excuse for me to write out my headcanons on how they met, their early relationship, natori's family, and the cat king's childhood/family/Issues lmao. the third chapter is so close to being Done, but the fourth and fifth are. Not. so once that third chapter is posted, i'm not sure how long the wait for the next two will be rip
my favorite thing about it is probably just. idk, getting to explore those headcanons i'm attached to, aha. also getting to write natori in a lot of different ways i don't normally get to Here is fun
playin possum
a much shorter post-canon fic in which the cat king comes down with a cold and makes it everyone else's problem. it's. well. Not Particularly Close to being finished, but i at least have an idea of where it's going rip
my favorite thing is that it gave me the opportunity to write natori uttering the line 'sire, if you make me hand-feed your own cold medicine, it will not be as sensuous as you're clearly expecting it to be' jfieoa
have courage and be bold
an excuse plot involving yuki's wedding attire and natori's sewing skills which exists only bc i wanted to write them interacting with each other rip
it's somewhat close to being done. there's little patches here and there which need to be filled in, and the ending is still eluding me lmao. my favorite thing tho is honestly just getting to write for yuki and delve into my own ideas about her, aha, especially after canon wraps up. also love the idea of natori (and probably natoru, too) sharing embarrassing baby stories about lune with her
the willow bud processional
or 'the cat king tries to teach natori how to dance while natori tells him a fairy tale and the self-indulgence levels inherent in that plotline alone blew away the ozone layer'
i've actually posted this one before on my fic blog, but it was unfinished. i posted it anyway bc i was So Tired of looking at it, i just wanted to sort of wash my hands of it rip now it's been some time and i've been looking at it again like. 'u know maybe i have the motivation to finish this now that i'm not Sick Of It'
the ruins
wheezes okay last one the fic i keep bringing up which basically amounts to 'i wonder how much suffering i can dump on my favorite character before i feel bad.' the answer is A Fuckn Lot. natori being kept alive after what's for all intents and purposes a coup bc one particular noble took a not easy to define interest in him. it's ended up way frickn longer than i intended it to but i've had a lot of. well. maybe not fun, exactly, but Something Positive while writing it despite its bleak tone oof
it's inching closer to being finished rip my favorite thing about it is without a doubt getting to indulge not only in my love for Despair but also getting to write natori reacting in ways which i hope are maybe. somewhat surprising considering his usual demeanor and such, aha he literally gets into what amounts to a physical fight in this fic ok that's kind of hilariously unfitting
What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)
there’s some ideas i have that fall under this category tbh-- that one idea i’ve brought up involving a groundhog day loop, where haru figures out she’s been living the cat kingdom day over and over again and can’t remember Why. she and the bureau, when she eventually gets them involved again, come to the conclusion it’s the cat king’s doing, and that he’s doing it to get his own way (tho they also find that conclusion kind of odd, considering he didn’t seem particularly broken up about how it all went down by the end of it)
of course. as i’m so. Wont to do rip the ultimate reveal would be that it was natori who had been behind the time loop, bc i have this story idea nicknamed ‘tfw u realize how things worked out in canon was the good end’
the basic idea is that natori was offered the opportunity to redo That Particular Day in order to alleviate some of the damage, but his efforts caused an even worse ending to the fiasco, and so now he’s been redoing it over and over again trying to get it Back On The Right Track. more than likely whatever creature gave him the original opportunity knew this would happen
bc i love the groundhog day loop trope to pieces, and i also love a good skirting too close to the despair event horizon fjioaef
i also have this random desire to write baron interacting with natori in that one ‘organized crime dark comedy’ idea i brought up once, where yuki is the cat king’s daughter and lune is the hapless ditz who fell in love with her, got all mixed up in the family business, and now is in too deep and not digging it lmao mostly bc i just have this vivid Idea of natori being just. profoundly two-faced in a conversation with someone who can send that polite, ambiguous energy right back at him lmao (bc i had the thought that, much like canon, natori is the one technically running everything. but in this case, it’s a good deal more Sinister, and his meticulously crafted bearing is quite brittle and wan in the right light)
How would you describe your writing process?
lies down scattered and capricious are two words which come to mind i'm too laid-back and lack the discipline to write on a legit schedule or when i'm not Feeling It, and my attention can sometimes flit from one WIP to the next in just a matter of half an hour (if not less rip)
it's also frustratingly easy for me to get burned out on an idea or a fic, which is part of the reason i usually have so many different WIPs going on at once orz
Two of the characters are briefly featured in Collateral Damages, in an incident on Dromund Kaas (and a few other planets) involving Theron. Cynera and Seryan are both Sith that have a short arc. (Seryan’s appearance is very brief) Kylena is new to this story.
Okay. I warn you now, this is long. I did not intend it to be long. That is often a refrain you will hear when reading my writing. (See also: 104ish chapter fic that was supposed to be like 20) I got this idea when I woke up this morning, and wrote it between my Thanksgiving cooking, cleaning, straightening, doing all the work duties that make me hate holidays with a fiery passion. Anyway. I’m sorry.
It’s long.
They had been children together on the massive Dromund Kaas estate that belonged to his family. She remembered him, tall and dark-haired, with bright green eyes. He'd pulled her into a game one day with his sister and some of the servants' children, and she'd never forgotten the sensation of his hand around hers, or the way he looked to her senses. As they'd grown up together, they'd grown closer, even become a strange sort of friends.
She was not like him. He was the eldest child in a powerful Sith family, and his life's trajectory was laid out neatly before him. Wealth, education, influence – his estate was staffed heavily with slaves and servants, soldiers for defense, the best in technology and luxury. She was just one of their many possessions. She was an alien. A Miraluka in the heart of the Empire, and a slave, and of negligible value. Easily replaced.
He'd never been cruel to her, despite her status and her race. Curious, yes, about how she saw without eyes, and what she saw, and what it was like to see through the force. His sister had no such compunction, though, and Kylena learned quickly to avoid her whenever she could. It started small, with pushes, shoves. Then her behavior became more vicious. Caught alone one day on the stairs, she felt his sister's hand on the small of her back, giving a violent shove. She fell, her arms full of linens that she was delivering to the housekeeping staff, and tumbled to the bottom of the stairs. His sister laughed, but when he found her a few moments later, he helped her up and checked her for injuries, then insisted on carrying the linens for her.
Kylena knew he was not necessarily kind, not to everyone. She'd seen him lose his temper, seen his banked rage flare to life, and had witnessed the effects of it on other servants and tutors. With her, however, he was always gentle. He began to watch out for her after the incident on the stairs, protecting for her, making certain his sister wasn't tormenting her or singling her out for abuse. She felt ashamed that she was glad of it; others were not so lucky to have drawn his interest, and they lacked the protection that she had. Her mother seemed worried about his interest, ascribing a darker motive to his attention, but she was powerless to deny him. A slave could not say no to their master's son or tell him to stay away from her daughter; it would have been a death sentence.
Some days, though, Kylena would catch his sister watching them together, and she felt the malice and hatred of the other girl like a miasma. It made her afraid.
He brought her a lovely draped silk mask, replacing the dirty, torn one she had been using as a mask. They sat together outside on one of the few days where it wasn't raining, under the trees, and he fastened it carefully around her head, arranging her ebony hair so that the mask did not pull at the strands or hurt her. “Better?” he asked, his tone gentle, and she smiled, touching it shyly. The fabric was so soft and rich. She had never had anything so expensive against her skin, and it felt so delicate.
“Thank you. You shouldn't have, though.. your sister..”
His jaw tensed, and he looked away from her for a moment. She watched him silently, wishing she was different. More like him. He would go away soon, to the Academy on Korriban, and he would forget about the slave girl from his childhood. His sister would follow, most likely, a short time later. Both of them had already shown some aptitude in the force, and the only reason they had not been instantly swept away was due to their family name and the fact that it was a given that they would attend. But every day that time grew closer, and she clutched these moments to herself like jewels, jealously hoarding every second she was alone with him.
“I'm sorry. I know how she is. But when I'm gone, she won't have a reason to hate you so much. She doesn't like it that I talk to you, spend time with you. Perhaps I shouldn't. It might be better if I just ignored you, avoided you.” He turned towards her again, and she gazed at him, feeling something deep in her soul reach out, starving for the emotion she could see swirling inside him. “I can't make myself do it, even though I know I should.”
She was not a child anymore. Not really. Slaves did not hold on to their childish innocence for long, and she had been lucky so far, sheltered from many of the horrors that they faced. But she was young, and he was young, and neither of them knew how to articulate clearly what they felt. Her attachment to him felt so strong, and she could see that he felt it too. “I wish you weren't leaving.”
“It's an honor, going to Korriban to train. Bloodline, family.. it's very important. I must go. My father and mother are counting on me, and on my sister. We must excel. There's no other option.” He sounded apologetic, even disappointed, and he took one of her hands in his, lifting it, examining her slender fingers. She knew the nails were chipped and dirty, that she had healing scabs and bruises, that it was not a lady's hand. Not like the women he would be introduced to, the women he'd be expected to choose from to continue his family's dynasty. She was nothing, a slave. But he looked at her hand like it was elegant, perfect, and he smiled at her over it, holding her hand so lightly in his. “I'll be back. I'll be strong then, and Sith. I'll be able to protect you.”
Kylena felt her heart stumble, aglow in the light of his regard. Some part of her didn't believe him. She knew he would leave, and he would never think of her again. She would be a memory that would fade in the glitter of his life beyond the walls. But her heart ignored her common sense, leaping anyway. “You will forget me, Sery. You'll be Sith, and I'll just be a slave girl. I doubt we'll ever speak again.”
“Yes we will, Ky. I won't forget you. I never could.”
His father called for him a few minutes later, and he left her under the trees. As she headed back inside more slowly, holding the memory of his words, his sister broke into her reverie, meeting her at the door. “When he's gone, there won't be anyone to protect you from me,” she whispered, her voice dripping with venom. “He will never know, and he won't care. He'll never come looking for you again. You're nothing to him, and nothing to me, slave.”
Kylena sidestepped around the other girl, careful not to meet her eyes. Her shoulder blades itched with the desire to run, to escape, but like any wise prey animal, she knew better than to attract the predator by sudden movement. She walked away, expecting an attack at any moment, but it never came.
She thought the time before he left would be quiet, devoid of incident. It frightened her, because she believed his sister meant what she'd said. If she held her temper, he would go, and Kylena knew she would be trapped then, with no one to protect her from his sister's anger. The family held several large-scale social parties leading up to the day of his departure, and one of them ran very late into the early hours of the morning. Trudging back to her room, exhausted and half-asleep, Kylena didn't notice that she was not alone in the dark hallway until the smaller girl hurtled into her from a shadowed alcove, slamming her against the wall and knocking the air out of her lungs.
She gasped for breath, trying to shout for help, but his sister only smiled at her. She lifted her hand, and Kylena felt an unseen power lift her off her feet, like a hand was wrapped around her throat. Choking, she kicked her feet, her lips parted on a silent cry for mercy. “This is for him, you know,” his sister told her coldly, her eyes fixed, like a maddened animal, sick and vicious. “He needs to learn. You are less than nothing compared to him. He should not care about you. Your life is meaningless. Less than mother's akk dogs. I could feed you to them and no one would care. No one but Seryan, and he will learn quickly not to show such a weakness to anyone at the Academy. I am his sister,” she continued conversationally, her fingers tightening, gaze avid on the frantically kicking Miraluka's thrashing body. “I must protect him from anyone who would bring him down. Make him less than what he should be.”
Kylena could barely hear her voice over the pounding of the blood in her ears. The panic spun through her body, terror telling her that she was going to die if she didn't get free. She felt herself sinking inside her mind, drawing in, pulling everything that was part of her into a compressed ball, and then she pushed as hard as she could. She heard the other girl hit the wall, and the sound of footsteps running, skidding to a stop beside her. A hand touched her, and she flinched away in fear, and something from within her pushed the hand away, a barrier springing up around her. It only lasted a moment before it flickered out and left her undefended, but as she turned and saw Seryan looking down at her, she could see the shock in his face and feel it in his surface thoughts. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice faltering, breaking between his usual, higher voice, and the lower timbre that prefaced the man he would become. “Ky.. did she hurt you?”
She could see his sister crumpled on the far side of the hallway, unconscious, and knew she had to get out before Cynera woke up and came to find her again. “Sery, take me with you, take me to the Academy. I can take care of you, serve you there. I can cook, clean, please.. don't leave me here. She'll kill me, you know she will!” The hysteria in her voice rang in the hallway, and he reached for her again, pulling her into his arms, his hands smoothing her tangled dark hair, soothing her. “Please don't leave me here!”
“I can't take you.. they would never let me bring you there. And you would be in danger there, far more than even here,” he whispered, his cheek brushing against her hair. She could feel his regret, his fear for her, and he glanced at his sister worriedly. “Listen, Ky. I'm going to get you out. I'll put you on a flight out. I'll send you off planet. You'll be free.”
“You can't do that.. your father would never allow it,” Kylara protested, shocked even as the thrill of the idea of freedom sang to her mind. Freedom.. belonging only to herself. But he would be gone, lost to her. She would never see him again.
“Let's go. Get your things. I'll take you to the spaceport. I'll get you out of here. Meet me at the speeders in fifteen minutes. Hurry, Ky. Pack lightly.”
“My mother..” she began, but she could feel him balking at the idea, worried that they would be caught. Her heart sank. “I can't leave her.”
“She'll be safe. I'll free her when I come home again. It's you that has to get out of here. Cyn is going to kill you, you're right.. I see that now. I'm sorry I didn't see it before.” He lifted her to her feet, his fingers gently checking her throat, a frown on his face. “I'm so sorry. She could have killed you. I should have been here. Now go, I'll take Cyn to her room and meet you out there. Go!”
She ran towards her room without looking behind herself, but she could feel his eyes on her back as she fled down the hallway.
He didn't tell her what he had to do to find the records of her purchase as a slave, or how he'd changed them. But he was waiting for her with all the documents she needed, and she held his waist tightly as they flew on the speeder through the jungle, racing to the spaceport. Her mother had grieved, clinging to Kylena for long moments before she'd allowed her to leave, but she had agreed to the plan.
They barely made the shuttle going off world, and she flung her arms around him, her heart breaking at the reality that she might never see her mother again, that she'd have to hope that he would keep his promise to free her someday when he returned after his training. And him.. Seryan. “Thank you for helping me. For freeing me. I wish you'd come with me. You can't really want to go to Korriban, to be a Sith?”
Seryan smiled sadly at her. “I will be Sith, Ky. I was always going to be Sith. I know you think they're all like Cynera, but they're not. Someday I'll find you again, you'll see. We'll see each other again. This isn't goodbye forever.” He pulled her closer, his arms strong as he lifted her to his eye level, knowing that the way she saw him was completely different from what he saw when he looked at her. Bruised and scared though she was, she was strong, and he knew she would be safe as long as she was far away from his sister. “You have two trips.. one to Nar Shaddaa, and from there, to Coruscant. Find some Jedi.. tell them that you need to be trained. They will see.. what I see. They'll know what to do.”
She nodded, overwhelmed, her arms twined around his shoulders, fingers sliding into his dark hair at the nape of his neck. “Find the Jedi. But if I'm a Jedi, and you're a Sith.. we can't find each other again. We'd be enemies,” she realized.
“I'll find you. I will.” He rested his forehead against hers, feeling the sleek touch of the silk mask he'd given her. “I would never hurt you, Jedi or not. I love you.”
Kylena bit her lip, afraid to answer. What good would it do to tell him? He was going to be a Sith, and regardless of what happened to her, she would never be like him, never be someone who could be with him. She could practically hear her mother's voice in her mind, telling her they were just children, that they had a lot of growing up to do. That things change when you grow up. “Don't say that. We'll probably never see each other again, and I don't want you to think you have made some kind of foolish promise to a slave girl that you’ll probably have no desire to keep.”
“A free girl. You are free, Ky. Not a slave. And I mean it. I love you, and I'll free your mother, and find you. Now get on board before they leave without you.” Seryan bundled her onto the shuttle, pressing some credits into her hands, his lips brushing her forehead and then briefly pressing against her lips in a farewell kiss that tingled on her skin.
He was the last thing she saw of Dromund Kaas, as the shuttle lifted away from the landing pad and rose into the atmosphere, and she stayed at the window, her hands pressed to the glass until long after he was gone from view.
i started my task of editing down this monstrosity today by deleting a 500 word paragraph and rephrasing it into 120 words... most recently i became excited because i realized i could replace the phrase ‘made apparent’ with the word ‘denoted’ and save myself one (1) word in the quest to get back down to the word limit.
i feel like that’s a good microcosm of how my brain handles the idea of being succinct in general
as tagged by ussrosalind. I feel like this is a good exercise in self-examination and/or self-care in...some...way? Can I get verification that this makes sense? Anyway, I’m going to put it in the description that good friends make me happy, and not in the list. Because I feel like it. Okay? Okay.
Board games, and introducing people to them. There’s nothing quite like the feeling you get when you’re teaching someone a new game and they say “This is awesome!” I got that today, actually. I’ve been carrying Zombie Dice around, because it’s 13 dice that I have in a pouch that takes up almost no space. And I was fiddling with it before work, and I showed it to two of my coworkers, and one of them who I wouldn’t have necessarily expected to be really into it really jumped in and asked questions and loved it. It was great.
Girls wearing sundresses. A sundress is a wonderful thing, I have literally never seen a person wearing a sundress who did not look good in it. As far as I’m concerned they’re universally flattering, no matter your body type, skin color, or any other variation that a person can be. I am most pleased by girls wearing sundresses, because the sight makes my heart go pitter-patter, but if I see a guy wearing a sundress, gonna make sure to drop a compliment. Because that’s awesome.
Entire families at sports games, especially with young kids. There’s something special about passing a sports fandom down to one’s children, and making a sporting event a family event. It’s a thing with my immediate family, and dates back to when I was too young to really care about baseball, but my parents brought books and toys, and I spent some time paying attention to the game while my dad explained things, and I got to experience the energy of the game. It’s a wonderful thing.
Really actually making somebody’s day at work. Working at starbucks has never been my ambition, and I’ve never considered it my calling, but I used to get the most satisfaction out of my job from actually making a difference in people’s days. I feel like at this point I’ve lost a lot of that, for a plethora of reasons, but every now and then, when I feel like I really have the opportunity to turn someone’s day around or make it a good one, I get a little more fulfillment, that spark of satisfaction again. I wish I had more of those, but at this point I wish more to be out. In the meantime, I’ll relish the moments I get.
Making somebody groan with a really terrible pun. All the elaboration I need is: “The success of a pun is in the oy of the beholder.” -Spider Robinson.
I will now tag pikabunny44, wallacewellsbian, and ironwitchy
