52
But to me, to be original is to be yourself.
—Marc Newson
//
Mais pour moi, être original est être soi-même.
—Marc Newson
Month: December 2015
51th PAWW’s story
Small essay on the word “freedom” I blabbered in ten minutes.
What if your freedom was taken from you? What if not only you couldn’t talk freely anymore, but your movements, what you wear and what you think were chosen, predetermined by someone else? What if you had to marry someone you don’t know or that you hate, three times your age? What if, to get a spouse, you needed to modify your genitals? What if you needed to kill someone? What if you were the prisoner of your own skin, of the gender you were born as?
Freedom is ethereal, so hard to get yet so easy to lose. Most people don’t realize this, living with their shiny green, stepping over hundreds of walking corpses just to get their coffee with two cream and two sugar, no pretty please on their lips.
Such was life now. Freedom is taken for granted, yet is a dream never coming true for others.
Freedom is a concept determined by one’s ind, a cage is not necessarily physical, as the mind can be a trap on its own, banging on walls set up by memories, fears and what ifs. Golden or not, irrational or not, it leads to the same feeling of giving everything up, even the good things.
50th PAWW’s story
Last part of my super fanfiction. Part 1, Part 2. It’s also available on AO3, if you want to give it a kudos or check more of my other fanfictions (or read good smut ;D).
The man was stunned for a second before a scowl replaced the expression.
“You did a research on me?”
Dorian couldn’t help himself, he laughed. “How could I, when you didn’t even give me your real name. You took a false name to try to prove I’m a charlatan, but I’m not, Cullen.”
The scowl deepened. He didn’t like anything involving magic, dark memory creeping through the spiders.
49th PAWW’s story
Second part of my fanfiction. Part 1
The other appointment was in the evening, and so he had some time left for Christmas errands. The man on the phone had been uncomfortable, clearly his first time doing any business with a medium and psychic, but Dorian was used to it and the stigmatisation related to his work. Not every claimed medium was a real one, making his profession almost a laughing one, and he admitted it made things very difficult at first when he started his business.
He tried to have a normal job when he first arrived in Canada, he really did. He worked in retail, using his charms to make good commissions, but after a while he had to block his powers, for it became overwhelming, hit by thousands of thoughts and emotions every day, and he wasn’t talking about the ghosts. It was too much in the end, and he refused to ignore abilities he was born with.
48th PAWW’s story
Another fanfiction for you all! Time flies, and I don’t write as much as I’d like to, but here’s to something you still like. This is a story settled in my current city, Montreal, featuring a psychic and medium man and a policeman, with lots of homo sexual tension as I love it. I’ll divide this in three parts, so keep an eye for the other two.
Dorian woke up to the voices of children singing Christmas songs outside. It was that time of the year again. He groaned and fumbled around to find his cellphone through his pillows. When he did, it took him a few more seconds before he squeezed his eyes open to see what time it was. A barely acceptable hour to be this happy, that’s what time it was.
A kid laughed when another one sang the wrong lyrics. He normally didn’t mind, but not when he’d fell asleep two hours earlier. He shifted on his stomach while browsing his social media with blurred eyes, not even bothering with putting on his glasses. He had a reminder for two appointments today, but they were only this afternoon.
His sixth sense suddenly kicked in, telling him he wasn’t alone in his bedroom anymore. He sighed in annoyance, ready to dismiss whoever or whatever was disturbing him, but when he spread his powers in search of the entity, he was met with a familiar presence.
51st PAWW
50th PAWW
47 PAWW’s story
Note is at the end, for spoilers reasons.
Georg wasn’t working in the physics department, even if he was in the labs more often than he should. He was working in the offices a few floors below, but his boyfriend was a scientist who didn’t mind letting him in for their lunch or any excuse, really. They might have ended up making out a few times, hidden behind a tall desk, but Jose was most enthusiastic to talk to him about his latest creations.
46th PAWW’s story
I’m trying to catch up with my stories for this project before I get into another fanfiction, wish me luck (and inspiration). I took from the 30s and the Great Depression for this story.
Times were tough. Long gone were the free spirits spending their money on booze and gambles. People could barely pay their rent and buy food, let alone buy tickets for something already doomed. A thick fog had engulfed and locked away any positive feelings as people began to work in huge factories that were quick to muffle any accident of severed limbs and deaths. Chain industry transformed the humans into robots, giving them numbers instead of names. Paul Bulman became ID 5891, and when 5891 got stuck in a machine and died, nobody cared.
49th PAWW
49
We must free ourselves of the hope that the sea will ever rest. We must learn to sail in high winds.
—Aristotle Onassis
//
Nous devons nous libérer de l’espoir qu’un jour la mer se calmera. Nous devons apprendre à naviguer sur les grands vents.
— Aristote Onassis
Conatus 