August 05, 2021
[ This blog post is private ]
[ This blog post is private ]
09/05/2021 04:56 PM
people always leave.
The sound of a two year old child crying echoed throughout the small New York apartment.
She cried for her mom to come and soothe her - to help clean up the spilt milk that had fallen all over her high chair.
She screamed for her father to release her from the seat she was bound to and wrap her up in his protective arms.
. . .but they didn’t answer.
Her parents couldn’t answer.
They couldn’t answer because they were lying passed out on the floor.
“I don’t have anything to share.”
It was a lie, but I didn’t care.
What good was it going to do me to open up and share the worst memory of my life - a memory I shouldn’t have. . . but one that I do?
Maybe I don’t remember every little detail of that day my parents royally f\ucked up.
Maybe I don’t remember what their faces look like, but I do remember crying, and I do remember sitting in that spilt milk, and I do remember being taken away and never seeing them after that.
. . . and I do remember them never trying to come back and get me.
. . . and I do remember them allowing me to age out of the foster system.
. . . and I refuse to believe they were good people. I'm not dumb a/ss.
I grew up in the system. I've heard worse stories than my own. I don't compare myself or my stories to others, but I'm not a dumb a/ss.
What they did to me was wrong.
And it sucks. And sometimes - when I allow myself to think about - to feel the weight of their mistake - it hurts. . . but I'm not a cry baby, and I don't do that sh/it often.
Life sucks a lot. That's just life.
“I can’t help you if you don’t let me, Jude.” My therapist said.
Cecilia (my social worker) ‘highly recommended’ I come and see her before I turned eighteen. She said it would be good for me to talk about some of the things I keep "bottled up" inside because, and I quote her, “I don’t want them coming up at a later point in life.”
I don't feel as if I bottle sh/it up. I feel like I've accepted what happened to me, and I've moved on. . . but she insists, I'm too young to move on from what happened, so. . . because I want to make her happy, I come to these stupid sessions, and I have been for the last few months.
“I've told you. I don’t want help. I don’t need help.”
There’s nothing wrong with me.
I’m a kid whose parents abandoned her for drugs.
That sucks, yeah. It f\ucking sucks, but I’m not going to sit here crying about it. . . and like, why does she care about it?
“Why do you want to know?" I ask, pressing and hoping to change the subject to her. "What made you take a job where you listened to people’s problems all day long?"
“I want to help people how - for a long time - couldn’t help myself.”
“Well, in my experience… no one really cares about anyone but themselves.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“Well, then, you're the only person in this world who hasn't had someone leave you.”
“So. . .you’re telling me, there’s no one in your life who cares about you?”
“The only person who cares is about to leave me.” I paused here. It hurts to think about it. For a long time I truly believed Cecilia cared about me, but as I grew older… I learned better. Yeah, she cares as best as she can… but at the end of the day, everybody has an agenda - a reason for what they are doing. At the end of the day everybody leaves. “Her job is done. I’ll be eighteen next week.”
“You’re talking about your Social Worker, Cecilia?”
“From what you have shared with me, it sounds like she’s done a lot for you?”
I look out the window.
I do this sometimes.
I go into my head and think about things - even have full conversations there, in my head. . .without even realizing it.
I think about Cecilia and about how she’s been more of a family than my own parents were. I think about how every time I found myself in a bad situation, she’s been the one to get me out of it. I think about how when the McCalisters were going to adopt me but then backed out at the last minute, it was Cecilia who wiped my tears, held me tight, and took me out for ice cream after.
I then think about how in just a week’s time all of that - everything we’ve built over the last sixteen years since I was placed in foster care - is all going to come to an end.
Yeah, people say they’ll keep in touch, but they don’t. People say they’ll always be there, but they won’t.
. . . and at the end of the day? Cecilia - even if she does care, she was simply fulfilling her duty as my social worker.
I find myself feeling frustrated at this moment. I find myself wanting to cry because it’s sad to think about opening up your heart to others and then… them up and leaving when their time in your life is done.
“She was just doing her job.”
My counselor gives me a look when I say that. I believe it’s a look of pity. I kind of want to smack her for it, but of course I would never do that.
“It’s true. She’s doing her job.” I was kind of shocked by this response. “- - but just because she was doing a job, doesn’t mean she didn’t care.”
“That’s great.” My voice raises an octave. “She cares! Whoop-di-doo! Should I give her a medal for it too? The McCalisters cared about me too! They were my first foster family. I lived with them until I was six years old." I’m crying now. I can’t even stop it, and it makes me cry even more because crying makes me angry. “They took me to the beach. Mr. McCalister is the reason why I love photography and Mrs. McCalister is the reason I learned to draw. They cared for me. They did love me. I know they did.”
I pause for a moment.
I take a breath in. . . and release it.
I calm myself down a bit. It’s not this woman’s fault. She’s just trying to help - even if she is annoying me to death.
“. . . but something happened, and they couldn’t go through with my adoption.” I let out a heavy sigh. I want to cry again, but I won’t. “. . . and they promised to keep in contact. They promised it wasn't because they didn't love me or care. . . but they never kept their promise. I never heard from them again." I pause again. I hate thinking about the McCalisters. "I’m well aware people can care about you, but that doesn’t mean they are going to stick around forever.”
I pause again.
I want to go home.
I want to sleep away the exhaustion this has brought on.
“. . .but in the end, people always leave, and all you have in this life is yourself.”
09/03/2021 10:54 PM
lost in the forest - reply to ellis
*The man beneath the beard and the flannel, mountain get-up - - his name: unknown at this time. -
- “My collection.
They are my prized possessions.” - - There’s a grin spread across his bearded lips (a beard that acted as a disguise. It was not his own) as he thinks about all the women he’s collected over the years.
He takes a drag of his cigar, releasing the smoke out into the air when it's time and stares down into the hole now home for the body of one of his lucky latest.
She was a pretty girl - probably someone who believed she was important in her world.
The blonde hair, blue-eyed ones always make it better in this life - it’s a simple fact of nature -- men (because the world revolves around us) prefer to look at the softer tones - we like our women weak - dependent - ready to bow and submit. The blonde ones usually fit that bill.
He kicked some dirt into the hole, staring at the blue-tainted skin of the woman he suffocated before she took her final breath.
He always found them prettier lying here.
They were quiet.
They didn't fight.
They just lay there. . .asleep.
A soft grin spread across his lips as he continued to stare. Another drag was taken of his cigar before it was pushed to the side of his mouth and chewed on to free up his hands.
He lifted the shovel he’d been using to dig holes throughout the forest… but just as he does, his phone begins to ring.
There’s a moment - just a slight flash of anger that crosses his expression - before he slams the shovel back into the dirt and answers his phone.
“This had better be important.” He was not amused. “What?” His voice hissed. “When? How many?” There’s a pause between the words he speaks as genuine frustration takes over. He was in the middle of his ritual - the storing of his collection - it was a spiritual experience for him. He did not appreciate being interrupted! “- - - very well, I’ll be right there.”
The phone was shoved back into his pocket and he stomped out of the forest. - - The police had been tracking him down for months, but he was a careful man. This wasn’t his first, second or third - not even close to his first time - run-in with the authorities. He was sixty years old and had been collecting women since he was eighteen years old after he buried his own mother alive (each kill was performed differently depending on the person and his mood) after she attempted to kick him out of her house.
It was a quick conversation with the authorities. One he’d rehearsed and performed a thousand times, and it wasn’t long before he returned to the forest to continue on with the burying ceremony.
. . . and that was when he was greeted with the reality that two of his collections - whom he planned on leaving drugged and burying as they were - had arisen from their slumber. The concoction must not have taken like it normally did - some little b\itches had stronger immune systems which could withstand more than others. . .and now he was angry.
‘Sh/it. F/uck. Mother F/ucker.” he spat out - loud enough for them to hear him. “Oh, no, no, no. My collection doesn’t run from me.” - - ‘Sh/it’ Jude heard the woman’s response to the bearded man in flannel, and when she took her hand, Jude didn’t fight it. She took her hand and followed and kept on running - not stopping until the woman pulled them behind a grouping of trees in what Jude assumed was to hide and take a minute to breathe.
Jude didn’t know what to think at this point.
She’d been through what she thought was a lot in her life, but the truth was? Looking at her life through the lens of this moment? Well… her life seemed like a walk in the park, normal, a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day… compared to where she was now.
Her attention caught sight of the woman whom she was now surviving with and watched as silent tears fell down her face.
She could see the woman trembling.
Jude hadn’t had much encounter with adults - except Cecilia (her social worker: who was not afraid of anything, Jude truly believed) and her foster parents over the years - - who had seemed so distant and unattached at times that she never really knew adults could be any different.) and her teachers who seemed to worn out to care . . . so to see an adult truly afraid - to see an adult so emotionally attached to her fear in this situation that she was shaking and shedding tears - Jude felt her own fear begin to resurface. Her own trembles and teeth chatters returned - which made her quickly cover her mouth with her palm - and those silent tears began streaming down her cheeks once more.
She never knew adults could cry.
She never knew adults could be afraid.
. . . and for some reason the reality of an adult realizing the severity of this situation and not acting tough - but allowing themselves to embrace what they were feeling - it made the situation they were in all the more terrifying.
Jude did as she was told and turned off the flashlight immediately.
She looked around, but darkness was engulfing the forest and making it hard to see anything but the woman beside her.
The sound of leaves cracking and branches breaking beneath what sounded like booted feet made the hairs on the back of her neck stand and cause goosebumps to rise everywhere else.
Jude grew as silent as she possibly could.
Her eyes widened and she forced herself not to move or make even the slightest bit of sound. . .and that was when she heard it. . . a voice - a creepy, smooth sounding, sing-song tone, that she would never forget.
“Fi, fi, fo, fum. . ." She heard him sniff the air. He was too close for comfort now. "I smell the blood of my collection.”
What were they going to do?
How were they going to move?
She had the flashlight and she was ready to use it if she had to - to beat him upside the head or something, but how would she know when was the right time?
Maybe the woman would use the shovel? . . . but what if the man overtook them?
WHAT WERE THEY GOING TO DO?
"Come out. Come out. Wherever you are."
09/03/2021 10:07 PM
Roomies - Reply to Trench
Jude couldn't help but grow excited when Trench handed her the cigarette she'd been smoking. The girl took it and did exactly as trench instructed. The fag was brought to her lips, a puff was taken but not inhaled right away (wait, Jude, don't mess it up) and just as she felt that nicotine goodness hit the back of her throat, she took it in - she took it all in, inhaling the goodness and allowing it to reach her healthy lungs, and then she exhaled the smoke out into the air.
"I didn't choke!" She looked up to Trench with a big smile. "How was that for my first puff?"
Jude pulled out her iphone and brought up the app store, handing her device to Trench to download the app. She took a moment to think about all of the places she'd like to live if she could live anywhere in New York, but she immediately stopped herself. "I mean... everyone wants to live in Manhattan or Brooklyn, but I can't afford that. At best, I'll be here in the Bronx for the remainder of my life - - - and if I want a change of scenery, there's always Queens." Jude shrugged. She never had any expectation to live above her means.
09/03/2021 01:25 PM
interview with jude - character questions
Host: Hello, everyone and thank you for tuning into, 'Get to know You’. I’m your host, and today we have a very special guest: Judith Ans-”
Jude: --Uh- - -pauses, rubbing the back of her neck. She’s embarrassed she interrupted.- It's Jude. Just Jude.
Host: -pauses and looks to Jude. A slight, nervous (and maybe little annoyed) laugh escapes his lungs. He looks back to the camera.- -Today we have Jude… here to answer some very important questions. Are you ready Jude?”
Jude: I guess so.
Host: Great! Let’s begin. Our first question submitted to us by our lovely viewers... -turns toward the camera and flashes the lens a bright smile- that’s all of you lovely people out there watching. . . - isssss: What is one thing people don’t know about you?
Jude: -looks around. The lights are so bright and she’s nervous- uhh… I don’t like to be interviewed.
Host: -laughs. It’s clear he’s not sure as to whether to be amused or annoyed by her remark- you are a cheeky one, aren’t ya Jude. Okay! Next question? What’s a dark secret you have been keeping?
Jude: Uh… -quietly- I don’t really think that’s any of your business.
Host: -Heavy sigh as he speaks, but that rehearsed smile remains spread across his lips.- Oh you’re determined to be difficult, aren’t you?
Jude: -eyes slowly shift back and forth; she smiles uncomfortably-
Host: Alrighhhhtt, next question- -oh, dear. . . -under his breath- please answer this one… What’s a light-hearted, fun secret about yourself?
Jude: -quiet for a moment before speaking- I… -sighs- .. I love to draw.
Host: -shares a look of what appears to be surprise- oh? Really. Are you any good?
Jude: I think so.
Host: Well, awesome! Maybe we’ll all be buying your artwork one-day. - - Okay! Next question: What is one thing you regret?
Jude: -another heavy sigh. Why did all of these questions have to be so personal? It wasn’t anyone’s business what her deep dark secrets were, so she lied in response - my biggest regret is: agreeing to do an interview.
Host: -lets out a laugh and looks to the camera. His eyes are full of desperation.-
Jude: -couldn’t help but chuckle. She was not going to answer those types of personal questions. Period!-
Host: -another sigh- okay… who do you have a crush on?
Jude: No one. I don’t like people in that way.
Host: Good for you -it’s clear by his rushed response, he’s trying to just get through this interview.- Next question! Got any obsessions, Jude?
Jude: Not really.
Host: -through a laugh- of course you don’t. What about. . . well, you’ve already answered this one: Any hidden talents? You shared you’re good at drawing. Anything else?
Jude: Photography. Though, I … I don’t have a camera, but someone in my life awhile ago did so.. I.. I used to take photos.
Host: Fascinating. What about your family life, Jude?
Jude: -goes quiet-
Jude: …I don’t have a family life. I don’t have a family.
Host: -looks toward the camera with a ‘I wanna die’ sort of expression- moving on, something lighter, I hope… ah, thank god! When is your birthday?
Jude: -glares at the host, hating him at this point, but she’s determined to finish this sh/it now.- September 16th, 2003.
Host: ohhh, it’s coming up, isn’t it?
Jude: According to the calendar.
Host: -heavy sighs, obviously doing his best to keep his smile. The tension is real between these two- What’s your favorite time of year?
Jude: Fall and Winter.
Host: You like Halloween and Christmas?
Jude: I think I would love Halloween. Never celebrated though. Christmas is stupid.
Host: of course you think that. Anyway… What’s your favorite food?
Host: Got any favorite kinds?
Jude: I don’t discriminate against pizza, but like… don’t put fish on there or anything. - makes a disgusted face-
Host: No sardines for Jude’s pizza.
Jude: -shakes her head-
Host: Alrighty. Next question. What’s a day in the life of Jude look like?
Jude: Work. Work. More work. . . oh yeah, did I mention work?
Host: you did.
Jude: gotta earn my keep, bro.
Host: -laughs, but it’s clear he doesn't have anymore interest in Jude- Next question: What do you like to wear most of the time?
Jude: My clothes. . . why does anyone care about that?
Host: -rubs his temples with his mic still in his left hand.- thank god we are on the last question. Are you a morning or night person?
Jude: Night. It’s quieter in the world at night.
Host: How insightful… Okay! That’s all the time we have left for today. Thank you, Jude, for being our very special guest on, ‘Get to Know You’. -he turns his attention back to the camera- to all of our lovely viewers out there, thank you for asking those questions and tuning in! Hopefully next week will be much more exhilarating.
Director: CUT! - - That’s a wrap.
Host and Jude: Thank f***.
09/01/2021 06:32 PM
snowstorm ft. noora
What is the sound of freezing cold?
What is the sound of chilling bone?
What is the sound of falling snow as it blizzards to the ground? C O L D. She was freezing cold as she lay frozen in the snow.
The sound of rushing winds, blizarding snow, and creaking metal from the school bus they were riding in swirled around in her mind as she lay frozen, shaking, and shivering on the snow-covered ground. - - - Sometimes things happen fast.
Skkkkiiirrrrrrrrt went the tires
as they began to skid across the icy ground. - I mean. . . really fast.
One minute, you’re laughing - talking about how excited you are to go tubing while your foster sister, Paola, is sharing how she’s excited to go skiing. It’s something she’s always wanted.
And then the next thing you know, everything starts spinning. . .
The blonde lady named Noora (one of the law students taking us on this trip) had been talking to us about the plans once we arrived when the bus began to slide.
The sounds of screams coming from both the children in her group home
and that of the college students who brought them along on this trip
acted as background noise to the bouncing of the school bus as it flipped over and tumbled
round and round on the road.
She was standing up at the front near the bus driver at the time.
I saw her go flying toward the window and then toward the ceiling… but I couldn’t remember what happened to her after that.
I’m not sure if I even saw her after that.
I’m not sure what happened after my world went black. - -
Jude’s eyes shot open.
The sound of rushing winds, blizarding snow, and creaking metal from the school bus they were riding in swirled around in her mind as she lay frozen, shaking, and shivering on the snow-covered ground.
Her mind was in a daze.
She wasn’t quite sure how long she’d been here for.
But one thing was certain, she was freezing.
She sat up slowly.
Her head was pounding. - -You know that heavy feeling you get when you hit your head and then sit up too quickly? Like all of your weight was suddenly forced to sit inside your skull and it feels like the weight of a bowling ball as it’s being lifted? That’s what my head felt like. - - Her teeth were chattering.
Her body was shaking.
She hugged herself in hopes of bringing any semblance of warmth and feeling back to her body.
Jude rubbed her eyes.
The metal from the tipped over bus continued its creaking.
She looked around.
The world was white.
It was covered in snow.
The wind howled. She used to believe the snow was beautiful.
She used to love to watch as it fell from whatever window in whatever home she lived in at the time.
Winter used to be her favorite time of year.
But as she stared off in the distance, looking for any semblance of life - watching as the snow took over the world like the powerful force it was - a force she never wanted to reckon with again in her life - Jude realized. . . she no longer loved the snow anymore.
She saw no one from her group.
She looked left, right, up the way and down.
But there was no one in sight.
She was ready to give up all hope on everyone else who traveled with her.
She was ready to give up and then…
There… before her in the snow was a head of hair.
There was a head of the blondest hair she’d ever seen in her life.
She’d seen that head of hair before - - -
“Noora!” Jude shouted and scrambled in the snow as best she could.
SKKIIIRRRRRRRRRT went the tires of the bus as it skid
across the ice-covered ground!
SCREEAAMMM went the children!
Jude watched as Noora went flying toward the window and then bounce against the ceiling as the bus turned upside down
and then right side up
and then upside down
and then right side up
and then upside down once more before her world went black.
Her entire body was screaming in pain as the shock from the chilling air was wearing off and the reality of how cold it was setting in.
The wind howled harder. The snow hit her in the face as she arrived at Noora’s body.
The snow was coming down more now than before.
There was blood on her brow.
Jude was scared, but she was determined to wake her up.
She shook Noora as best she could - the snow was piling on.
“Noora, wake up!” Jude shook her and she shouted. “Come on. You can do it. Wake up, Noora! Wake up!”
09/01/2021 01:35 PM
Stranger - reply to sully
After placing the man's order with Pauly in the back, Jude made her way to the countertop area to start cleaning up and preparing for another customer to sit.
She was in her head… again (it was hard not to escape to the world of one’s mind when one spent a lot of their time running back and forth from one task to the next. Jude was a typical brood, and quiet time meant she would be spending a lot of time thinking about... well, everything.)
In that particular moment, she was thinking of all the things she needed to do to make sure she stayed on top of her game so that Bonnie wouldn’t succeed in taking anymore tables from her that day - - - the bitch.
She was frustrated, and… she was wiping the counter down a little too hard, and that was thanks to the fact her thoughts were swirling around about how mad she was at Bonnie, but at least she’d managed to get that table back by swooping in with that coffee for the new guy who had just come in.
--- "i decided to change my seat." Jude’s head shot up and she immediately looked to the man she'd stolen back from Bonnie and who now sat much closer to where she was than before - - -normally i like to sit by the window and get some people watching in." --- Her attention was now fully on him. People watching? Other people did that too? Jude loved to watch people as they went about their daily lives. It was like a game. --- "figured it would make things easier for you too. it's been a long day, huh?" --- He moved closer to make things easier for her? No one ever did anything to make her life easier - well, except maybe for Cecelia (her social worker) but now she was gone. . . but why would some random person care about making her life easier? No random person ever had before.
Jude would’ve probably been a little wigged out by the fact he moved closer to her and that he hinted at caring about her well-being, but at that moment? She was much happier with this reality because it meant she could keep a close eye on him -- you know, in case Bonnie tried to once again pull some shady ‘table-stealing’ sh/it. --- "you don't happen to run the register and cook the food do you?" --- No. Thank god, she thought to herself. She didn't really have time to respond to any of the questions he was asking because... well, he kept talking in between his sips of coffee. Though, Jude couldn't help but chuckle when he chuckled. She thought it was funny he made himself laugh - - she didn't actually find what he said very funny... but then he got personal, and that's when she grew uncomfortable. "what are you even doing in a place like this?" --- This question made her cheeks flush because... well, honestly, she was embarrassed when people asked her about her life and past and all of that sh/it.
“Uh…” Jude looked around. She was hot and uncomfortable… but when she looked back to the man, her eyes caught his and… something told her she could trust him.
She answered but her voice was really soft and awkward and she stumbled on several of her words while trying to get them out. “Well.. I… I don’t know. I don’t… I don’t really have anywhere else to go… or… uh, anything else to do… so.. I’m here.”
08/29/2021 11:01 PM
lost in the forest - reply to ellis
Maybe it was all the adrenaline rushing through her, or maybe it was the fear of the unknown as she slowly un-ziiiiiiipppeeed the shaking body bag to reveal the person trapped inside, but as the woman instructed Jude to ‘make it quick’, she couldn’t help but fall backward onto the ground.
Her eyes remained wide.
Her breathing was heavy.
Her brain was foggy. She was lightheaded.
She felt as if she was going to pass out.
Jude wanted to say something to the woman. She wanted to say so many things, but the words desperately wanting to spew out from her mouth wouldn’t come… and all she could say in that moment, as her bright blue-green eyes stared at the woman was, “h-help.”
The word which left her lungs was shaky at first.
She was cold.
She was terrified.
And she wanted to get the hell out of these woods.
Jude gasped, realizing what needed to be done. “Help!” As in… let me help you. She found her voice again, and suddenly – not on her own accord but that of the resilient fighter housed deep inside of her – she jumped to action, unzipping the remainder of the body bag to help the woman step out from its confines.
It was as if she snapped out of her crippling fear and into action, knowing by the woman’s response (‘make it quick’) that she too had no idea what was happening, and it was going to be up to the pair of them to get out of this mess together.
“HELP!” Tears sprang to her eyes now and she waited for the woman to remove herself from the body bag.
Her teeth were chattering and her body was shaking at this point and she was no longer sure if it was the fear of the situation or the growing chill of the air as the sun continued to set and the darkness rose, engulfing the forest as the day turned into night.
“Help.” That was all she could say. It seemed quite pathetic, but at this moment… there were no other words.
Jude finally stood to her feet once more. She grabbed the shovel and handed it to the woman, hoping that a gesture of good faith would let her know that she was on her side.
They had to work together now to get out of this mess alive.
Jude kept the flashlight for herself, deciding at this moment that she was the weaker of the two.
The woman was ready for death – no fear had been in her tone when she instructed Jude to finish her off.
This woman was more fit for the shovel than she was.
“Son of a b\itch! Damn it. F\uck!” It was the harsh voice of a man. It came from across the way – next to the mount of dirt where the body Jude encountered had been dumped. “You get back here!”
Jude’s eyes widened again and she looked from the woman to where the sound was coming from.
Her eyes landed on the person shouting. He wore a toboggan, a flannel shirt and some jeans. His hair was dark, but his beard was greying in spots.
A painful chill ran up her spine. This was not good.
Sh\it. Sh\it. Sh\it.
She didn’t have time to react or say anything else. Her instincts kicked in and in that moment she knew that she and the woman had to run. They had to run and find shelter – they had to get away from the man who sought to murder them.
Jude’s attention turned back to the woman. She didn’t say another word, but her eyes screamed, “RUN!”
08/29/2021 04:56 PM
*i have been wanting to make a list of guidelines for this page because she's becoming so very precious to me. i know these are probz outdated and cliche now, but eh... call me 'old fashioned'. Read if you want and don't if you don't.
1. Response time: Most importantly, and it's written on my page as well. I take my time when writing replies/responses. Sometimes, like recently, the words just jump out at me and I'm there with a response while other times... I'm as slow as molasses. I extend the same courtesy to you as a writer. I understand the busyness of life and other responsibilities. I also understand inspiration and how it comes and goes. I will never take it personally if you respond in a day, week, month or year. I will never be mad if another page/storyline takes your attention. You do what you have to do to have fun around here, and I will do the same. At the end of the day, this is a hobby. * On that note, when life gets crazy, I tend to go MIA to deal with sh/it. This doesn't mean I've 'abandoned' (eye roll, because I truly find this ridiculous. This is a WEBSITE. A hobby), it just means something else that is more important has taken priority.
2. Drama/PSA's/Attention-seeking bullsh/it: I hate that I have to put this here, but the reality is... this is a lot of what the site has become, and those of us who are here for writing now have to weave through the drama to find writers who are actually here to write. I reserve the right to delete your a/ss if you're someone who shares PSA's often, involves yourself in petty drama I do not give a flying f/uck about, or you're someone who constantly whines about ooc sh/it. Call me harsh, but the reality is, I come here to escape stress and to work on my writing talent because I would REALLY like to write a book, and this is my first step in creating a character I can do that with. Popularity: couldn't care less who you are or what your rp 'status' is. that sh/it is so trivial anyway. the real world doesn't care if you're popular on a writing site or not. if you're kind to me, i'm kind to you. if you want to write, i'm here for it. bring. it. on.
3. Length: Quality over quantity. I would rather you reply to me with a juicy sentence than a sh/it ton of rambling paragraphs that hold no weight to the storyline. However, if a sh/it ton of paragraphs is required for you to get out your thoughts, BRING IT ON. I'm here for it all. Just know, there is NEVER any pressure in response length. Give me your best, and I'll give you mine. This is not a competition or a class assignment with a character limit you have to reach. *grammar mistakes and mispellings. we all do it. this is a judgement-free zone. just have fun, babies!
4. Multi-muse/verse: I've never written a page like this before, but I've decided in order for me to get the most out of Jude, this will be a multi-muse page. (THIS IS NOT TALKING ABOUT SHIPS, which I don't do and will go into more in another paragraph) Multi-muse for me means: I have a foundation as to who Jude is. I do have a main story-arc for her, BUT as far as storylines go, what I do with one person does not affect what I do with someone else. She lives in multiple worlds and verses and I just want to throw her into any situation possible. I will write her in any verse. I will take her to space. I will take her to another country. I will throw her in the safari with only one bottle of water. I will do creepy sh*t. I will write horror (which i love!!!!!). I will write some feel-good sh/it that will make you grin from ear-to-ear. Throw a good plot at me and I'm there. She's not bound to a verse.
5. Ships/Smut: I'm here for none of it. I want no part in anything ships or anything smut. that sh/it i save for my real life babe. if you're a smutter, good for you. no judgement, but this page truly isn't for you. i am here for creating a story that expands far beyond relationships.
6. Family: If Jude and your character connect to the point where we feel like a familial relationship can be formed, that's great... but I'm not looking for it, if that makes sense? I just want sh/it to happen natural, but I'm not against Jude finding a family and I'm also not against her just finding her way in this world without one too... I hope that makes sense.
7. Discussions/Winging it: I'm down for either. If you are someone who hates discussions, that's totally fine. Just send me a random starter/give me a list of prompts to choose from and let's wing it. If you are someone who prefers outlining sh*t and discussing, bring it on! I'm not picky. I just want to write sh/it.
8. Trigger Warnings: I don't do them. This is a creative writing site. Not everyone is going to write the same sh/it, and not everyone is going to write fluffy sh/it all the time. If you are someone who is sensitive or is easily triggered, it may just be best for you not to read my writing just in case I do something that may offend you. This is your trigger warning: i don't hold back in my writing - no matter what genre/world/verse I throw my characters into. I will give you all I've got in my mind/world and I hope you will do the same for me too.
9. Connections: I don't really know how I feel about them. Being a multi-muse page, I will probably not make a big deal out of my connections. I think for Jude, I'm going to stick with... I have writing partners - not main connections.
10. Discord: *heavy sigh!!!* yes. i have it, but I really don't like to give it out. Here's why? A lot of times when I've connected with people on discord, we never write. We just become friends (which is great!) and the writing tends to be forgotten about. I will give my discord out, but it will be given only if you ask for it, and I would like to keep it to plotting characters/stories unless you know me from my other page and we're already friends and what not. Otherwise, let's just write and enjoy one another's writing on the site. :D
11. Aesthetics/Character Studies/Headcanons: yes. just yes. i will send you these things and I will happily accept them from you.
12. Storylines: Right now, I am accepting storylines, but I will be working on my list of starter prompts before I get to anything else. I want to follow through on this commitment I made to those of you who chose one.
I THINK THIS IS ALL. If there's more... I guess this will be updated at a later date :D
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