Ainesseyspiegel - My Side Of Freedom

I shit you not, the hardest part about creating a character is coming up with their last name

Revolutionary Girl Utena (1997), J.C. Staff, Funimation Entertainment

The function of the first draft is to help you figure out your story. The function of every draft after that is to figure out the most dramatic way to tell that story. Darcy Pattison

“You cannot solve a problem with the same mind that created it.”

— Albert Einstein (via fearlessnotreckless)

The Writer's Creed

This is my pen. There are many like it, but this one is mine.

My pen is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life.

My pen, without me, is useless. Without my pen, I am useless. I must write with my pen the truth. I must write the words and thoughts that are bursting from my mind and soul. I must write them before they kill me. I will…

Stories | Beauty and the Beast: The Enchanted Christmas OST

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They Called It Puppy Love

Asher:

It was easy enough to notice. Everybody but him could tell there was something more going on with the two of them. To be fair, I don’t think many thought it was something beyond a strong friendship. They were, after all, just kids. They didn’t know about love or the many aspects of relationships. Not really anyway. How could they?

Ben, full name Benjamin Reynolds, was a ten year old soccer star in the making. He had these big green eyes, deep brown hair, and cocky little smile that was everything boyish charm was defined for. He was the kind of kid you knew would grow up to be someone you wanted in your life. The type of guy who was loyal, dependable, and just unpredictable enough to be the ace up your sleeve. A best friend for the ages.

He was also kind of adorable, I thought upon initially meeting him when his family moved in down the street. My little brother thought so too, and he didn’t appreciate the fact that I looked highly upon little Ben, if the initial stomping on my sandal clad foot with heavy steal toe boots was anything to go by.

Jeremy, my supposedly adorable eleven year old little brother, grew attached to Ben pretty quickly. I want to say that he was abnormally clingy, though he would argue with the use of the word, within the first few minutes. I had never seen love at first sight, but I knew it must have been something awfully similar to what I was seeing when Jay held onto Ben’s outstretched hand a little longer than he should have.

It surprised my parents just as much as it surprised me. Jay never took to anyone easily. Hell, he didn't even like me when we first met. He peed on me the first time I tried to hold him, and it had taken us the better part of four years to get along with each other. His friends went through a similar time grueling process, though without any bodily fluids being released onto them. To like someone so quickly was something new and almost extremely out of character for my baby brother. 

I could see why, especially when I laid eyes on Ben’s older brother. Shawn, he said his name was, was an eighteen year old god. At least, he was in my humble but ever important opinion. Good build, not overly muscular, brilliant brown hair, apparently strenuously kept, and the most gorgeous pair of blue eyes I had ever seen. He was smooth talker, a sincere conversationalist, and I could tell he was a good guy within the few minutes of meeting him.

It was a breath of fresh air. The guys around my small town had all lost their appeal rather quickly. They grew out of manners and class, and you really needed to work at any kind of decent relationship. To their credit, they did shape up when they fell hard enough, as I had seen over the past few years of casual dating, but it was still hard work pretending to like them. The girls were the same. They lost themselves long ago, and had no intention of trying to individualize themselves unless a man was involved. Who wanted that kind of pressure?

It didn’t look like any of those tiring difficulties applied to Shawn, my new real life version of Adonis.

They didn’t apply to Ben either, if I was completely honest with myself. He seemed to take after his brother’s example in just about everything that counted. The both played soccer, had a lot of friends back in their old town, good encouraging personalities, and never did anything halfway.

I was absolutely smitten that first night when my parents invited Shawn, Ben, and their single father Michael, over for dinner. In my defense, it was hard not to be. Shawn was something I had only ever heard about in hushed whispers across the hall. He was the complete package. The looks, the personality, the sense of responsibility, he had it all. And his family wasn't half bad either. 

They were a close knit group, and despite not having a mom, they seemed complete. Jay was amazed that Ben could get by without that female presence in his life. He had always been such a mama’s boy, and not having my mom around was nearly suffocating to him. The fact that Ben could even breathe without one seemed like a miracle to my blunt and seemingly tactless little brother.

Little Ben was strong throughout the rough questions Jay could not stop himself from asking. I was a bit surprised. Jay was a smart, but sometimes cruel little brat when he wanted to be. Even when he didn’t mean to be, the things he said could wound terribly. And the effects would last for months on end. I thought Ben would have broken down crying after the fourth overly intrusive question.

The kid was a tough one. He answered everything with a smile and a laugh. He then was able to ask Jay about the things he liked.

I winced, and mom and dad tried to hides their coughs behind their glasses. Jay did not talk about himself. Never. Ever. He never saw the point in it. For such a young kid, he was so picky about the things he did and did not do. If it was never going to do anything for him, he simply did not want to do it. Too much work for so little gain, I guess.

But that night at dinner, Jay suddenly wanted to talk about anything Ben wanted to talk about. His favorite food was hamburgers, his favorite color was red, and he was a member of the local baseball team. Anything Ben wanted to know, Jay was willing to speak about. Michael and Shawn couldn’t quite figure out why the rest of us were gawking so freely.

Shawn started asking me questions, I guess feeling awkward about letting two preteens take hold of the dinner conversation. Michael started doing the same with my parents. All throughout the night we all traded information and laughed over new private jokes, all the while finding it completely normal to seem so at ease with basic strangers. We had so much fun that the time just flew by without us noticing. It was nearly ten when we finally had enough sense to look at a nearby clock.

By then, Jay had already looked so head over heels that I could have laughed. I would have too, if I wasn’t sure that I had the exact same look on my face at the moment.

When the Reynolds finally headed home, nearly an hour after we all agreed to part ways, Jay was smiling like a loon. He then proudly proclaimed, before he went to bed,

“He will be my new best friend.”

I didn't think to tell him that he already had a best friend. One that was always vying for the attention that Jay obliviously refused to give him. I also didn't think it was wise to tell him that what he wanted from Ben was something more than friendship. He still had those boots on after all, and I was too heavy a sleeper to feel comfortable enough to say what I wanted to. I have to watch the merchandise, you understand.

So I only smirked and told him,

“Go for it.”

I knew it to be fact. If I, after years of breaking hearts of all ages, was smitten this quickly, my brother was in for a long ride. He was only a kid, and he didn’t understand the emotional and possibly physical loop that emotions could take you through. A part of me thought that perhaps I should have done the big brother thing and tried to talk him out of it.

The more rational part of my mind told me it was pointless. Jay would be in denial. Even if he did admit to what he was feeling, again, he wouldn’t understand the big picture. He would never get what any of this meant. Not at 11. Puppy love was never something that permitted logic, and this was an extreme case if I ever saw one.

Lord knows if it’ll end well or not. But hey, it could be a good show. 

Careful What You Say, You May Just Mean It

I wonder if there isn’t a reason why writers are so careful with their words outside of their stories. Is it because we know how easy it is to destroy with a few simple letters? I know some of us have constructed orders and decrees that make a lovable person die. I know some of us have constructed passages telling of a once beautiful land’s demise. We’re written hurtful truths to make little ones cry, harsh lies that drive the doubtful mad, and we’ve spun words to sentences that decide fates of entire worlds within seconds. We require precision, we strive to learn the exact art of it, so when it comes down to an important moment, we’ve all learned how to write the things that can sting the most because it is what we live off of.

So I wonder, if all this may just be true, if that’s why we know to pick and choose our verbal battles. We know, maybe better than anyone, what damage just one word can do. And yes, sometimes we can’t avoid it, sometimes pain needs to be spoken, but maybe, just maybe, those of us who have written those same pains know how to soften the blow just a bit. And maybe, again, just maybe, it has become an unconscious but very important nature in some of us.