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scripttorture · 3 years

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Hello! I have a few questions related to your most recent post and the definition of torture. You said:

"A trained person who was never tortured will always out perform someone whose training involved torture."

According to everything else I have seen on your blog, this makes sense - the mental and physical trauma from being tortured have lasting effects which make certain tasks more difficult.

However, this seems to juxtapose certain tropes I've seen in US military training advertisements. For example, "Hell Week" in the Navy SEAL training seems like it would be torture if it was forced upon someone (like if the soldiers didn't sign up for it and didn't have the option to quit.). *Hell Week is when soldiers are training continuously for 5 days in freezing, wet conditions, with little more than 4 hours of sleep for the entire week, under insane amounts of physical and mental stress.

- If someone chose to be tested both mentally and physically, I feel like it wouldn't be torture. However, if the same exact conditions were forced upon someone else (testing their mental and physical limits without their consent or understanding), does your quote above mean that the person who did not have a choice would not reap the benefits of the training/testing? Or would the Navy SEALs be better soldiers if they didn't have to go through 'torturous conditions' during Hell Week, regardless of their choice to do so?

(I used Hell Week as an example, but I meant this question generally. I'm trying to figure out how to best train an elite soldier and avoid any harmful torture apologia tropes, while also making sure that they are able to handle insanely challenging situations)

- My other question has more to do with the definition of torture that you quoted from the UN in one of your master posts. If someone is being seriously injured (pulled fingernails, whipping, starvation etc), but not for the purposes of interrogation, punishment, or intimidation, is that still torture, or is that just abuse? And, regardless of what we call it, would the effects be the same as if it were torture for any of the three motives above?

Sorry if this is long and hard to understand, I can clarify if needed!

It’s not the longest I’ve gotten and it’s perfectly clear, duck*. :) Honestly this is a difficult topic with a lot of nuance, it’s better to take a longer and more thoughtful approach.

From the stand point of the legal definition and what we study/understand as torture any consensual activity, however extreme, is not torture.

But here’s where it gets interesting: consent and our attitude to an activity actually changes our response to pain. It may even change how much pain we feel.

I’m going to take a slightly different example to yours. There are a lot of cultures globally that have practiced scarification, ritual cutting to deliberately form scars. And this can be done for a lot of reasons: membership of a family or clan, coming of age, traditional medicine, religion, you get the idea.

A lot of people in these cultures describe their scars as incredibly important and the process of getting them as a moving, deep and positive process.

This does not mean they wouldn’t be traumatised if they were attacked by someone with a knife.

Being able to approach something painful and see it as positive really changes our perspective. It makes trauma and mental illness a lot less likely. And being able to back out, even if it’s just for a little while to take a breather, seems to make us able to withstand more pain then we would have otherwise.

The simplest and most famous experiment that dealt with this relationship between our mindset and pain asked people to keep their hands in ice cold water. They timed how long people could do it when they were told to stay silent and how long they could do it when they were allowed to swear. If they swore they could hold their hands under for longer. An average of forty seconds longer.

Looking back over O’Mara (Why Torture Doesn’t Work, a very good intro to how pain works and what it does to the brain) the way he describes it as by thinking of the experience of pain as a collection of three things. There’s the physical sensation itself, the nerves firing. But there’s also an affective component, how we feel emotionally about the experience and a cognitive component, how we think about it.

Did you ever play that game as a kid where you stuff as many chilis as possible in your mouth to see who would spit them out first? I… might have done. And from what I remember it hurts an awful lot. But those memories to me are mostly about messing about with my friends, I remember trying to be stubborn about it and I remember us laughing at each other.

This is a completely different experience to someone being held down and having chili stuff up their nose. But the difference isn’t necessarily in the physical damage done or the physical sensation of pain. It’s in the other components, the emotional response and the rationalisation.

I also had a filling drilled in my tooth without painkillers as a kid. I don’t know how common this is in the West? It happened in Saudi. Honestly my biggest memory of it is the language barrier between myself and the dentist.

These are anecdotes obviously but I’m trying to show that you probably also have experiences in your own life that back up the experiments too. The way we think about a painful experience really does make a huge amount of difference. And that means consent matters enormously.

These soldiers are going into this experience knowing what to expect, how long it will last and that they can stop at any time. That makes a huge amount of difference. Those same factors have drastically increased the time volunteers will spend in solitary confinement for research. I’m pretty sure if I dug even a little I’d find pain studies with similar findings.

Here’s the flip side: the physical factors are still in play.

Sleep is an important physiological process that’s essential to normal functioning. Studies on consensual sleep deprivation have shown massive negative impacts on memory along with a host of other things that you can read about here.

Let’s take a non torture example. A student who stays up all night cramming for an exam is not going to develop the symptoms of trauma that a torture survivors who was sleep deprived would. But the effect sleep deprivation has on memory is due to sleep playing an essential role in preserving memory (and learning more generally.) So they’re both likely to have difficulty remembering things in days just before and just after sleep deprivation. They’re also both more likely to have false memories and catch a bad cold.

As a result of this memory impairment I question the educational value of anything involving sleep deprivation: you can’t learn while messing up the processes that let your brain remember things.

There have been cases in the UK of people dying during training for the armed forces. Because while consent makes a huge difference, mindset makes a huge difference- our bodies still have limits. We can choose to push ourselves past those limits and, whatever our motivation or feelings, it can do real harm.

Personally? I’m unsure of the benefit of these kinds of exercises. As in I’m unsure there is a benefit. Learning is going to be shot, chances of injury are going to be a lot higher- I don’t see anything that could be improved by these sorts of exercises.

Anecdotally people do report feeling like a closer unit after going through these sorts of routines. That might be the benefit: moral and unit cohesion, possibly self-esteem too.

If you’re making up something for your story I think it’d be helpful for me to mention a little statistical effect that gets used to justify punishment pretty regularly. Get some dice out if you’ve got them and roll one. Let’s say the number represents performance in some kind of test (because effort and learning matter but our performance also varies because of things we can’t control.) A roll of 1 gets punished, a roll of 6 gets praised.

Now after you roll that first 1 statistically speaking the chances are your next roll will be better. And if you roll a 6 then statistically speaking the chances are your next roll will be worse. People observe this effect in real life and they often conclude that there’s no point in praising someone but that punishment leads to improvement. Really it’s just a statistical effect, after a particularly, noticeably bad day the chances are things will be better next and vice versa.

This effect can make it difficult for people to recognise overall, long term progress. Which is the kind of progress you should be paying attention to when designing a training program.

If you want good performance from people, whatever the metric, the most efficient thing to do is ensure that those people are; well fed, have access to clean water, get plenty of sleep, have breaks and have access to medical treatment when they need it.

I’d say the main things to keep in mind when designing this fictional training regime are:

Being honest about the effects you describe, ie if they’re spending long periods without shelter are they at risk from exposure? If they’re standing in cold water are they going to get hypothermia?

Remember that even if something is damaging or causes lasting trauma it would not necessarily prevent someone from doing their job. Torture survivors have serious, lasting symptoms but many of them still work.

I think I’m going to leave that there because I’m not an expert in militaries or training people. And keep in mind that I am a pacifist, read this with my biases in mind.

Getting to the second question, there is a little more to the UN definition then that. The primary factor is still who the abuser is. For it to be torture (legally speaking) the abuser has to be (or be ordered by) an on-duty government employee, part of a group that controls territory (ie an occupying force). Some countries also count international organised criminal gangs in this definition.

It’s also important to note that torture can be targetted at someone other then the victim. So if the police arrest the brother of a political opponent and beat him in order to intimidate the politician, that is still torture.

Basically there are a lot of factors in the legal definition of torture and it’s that way by design. The hope is that you end up with a framework that captures as much government abuse as possible.

But it also means that there’s a pretty high barrier when it comes to proving torture. Which means that things which are legally torture can be prosecuted as assault, bodily harm or equivalents to these, because it’s easier to get a conviction for those charges.

Technically you are correct: if abuse done by a government official doesn’t have one of the four motivations in the legal definition (attempts to obtain information, forcing a confession, intimidation or punishment) then it doesn’t meet the definition.

However in practice I’ve not heard of a case failing because of the motive.

I’m not a lawyer and I’m not an expert in international law. I won’t say it’s never happened. But it’s much more common for cases to fail for other reasons. Off the top of my head I’d say the most common reason is difficulty proving the abuse took place.

The most common types of torture today are ‘clean’, a term we use to indicate that they don’t leave obvious marks. If someone turns up with fingernails torn out or the skin of their back lacerated by a whip that is clear physical evidence of abuse. Nothing else causes similar injuries. But if someone turns up at a doctor’s with swollen feet or reddened skin, if they’ve lost a lot of weight or they’re so tired they’re struggling to stand… Well all of those things can be caused by common tortures. But they can also be caused by common illnesses.

A lot of the deaths from torture today are similarly hard to prove. Beatings and stress positions ultimately cause death by kidney failure. Which can mean that prosecutors are asked to prove a victim didn’t have an underlying health condition. Or take drugs.

Honestly my instinct is that the motive is the easiest thing to prove. It’s often harder to bring charges against people in positions of authority, regardless of the country we’re talking about. Bringing those charges, proving abuse took place and proving it was done by the person in question, those are usually the tricky parts.

The difference between torture and abuse is scale. Torture is industrial scale abuse.

The law doesn’t define that scale but that’s what we’re talking about when we talk about abuse from organised authority. Abusers might have dozens of victims. Torturers have thousands, tens of thousands.

If you want to explore a different motivation in your story, something outside the legal framework, consider the scale at which this abuse is taking place. Consider how organised it is. If it’s organised and large scale, with multiple abusers, with no prior relationship between the abuser and victims then torture will probably be a better model then abuse. If it’s smaller scale with a more personal relationship and if it isn’t supported by a legal framework/organisation then abuse might be a better model.

For victims and survivors the difference isn’t so much about the symptoms they personally experience as the… side effect of that scale. Abuse victims are often very isolated and may not know anyone who has had a similar experience. Torture implies a community of survivors and possibly generational trauma. There are also effects to do with access to support, access to medical care and how likely it is that someone will be believed.

Torture survivors are often systematically disenfranchised in a way that abuse victims are not. Torture survivors are often forced to leave their home country. Anecdotally, based on what I’ve seen globally over the last few years, I think that struggling to get citizenship is increasingly an issue for torture survivors. And without citizenship there’s difficulty finding legal work, getting accommodation, accessing medical care, accessing the legal system etc.

I do not know whether torture survivors are more or less likely to be believed by their community compared to survivors of abuse. I do not think any one has attempted a comparative study. I do know that the prevalence of clean torture means that many torture survivors are not believed and this puts up a further barrier, making it harder to access medical treatment and bring charges.

Rejali’s book was published in 2009, so things may have changed a tad. At the time he was writing the average wait for a torture survivor to see a specialist doctor was about 10 years.

Abuse is to torture what murder is to genocide. And there are difference on a wider social scale as a result.

I mention all that because I feel it’s relevant but the impression I get is you’re mostly interested in the long term symptoms? In which case, yes the legal definition makes very little difference. The physical injuries caused by particular kinds of abuse don’t change depending on whether it’s a private individual or a police officer holding the Taser.

The lasting psychological symptoms are not particular to torture; they’re what the human brain does when traumatised. The same symptoms can manifest in people who witness traumatic events but weren’t actually hurt themselves. They can manifest in people who were injured in accidents and they manifest in people who were neglected or abused. Hell, I have a couple of them, though no where near the severity a torture survivors would experience. A sufficient amount of stress is enough for these symptoms to start developing in anybody.

You can find the general list of symptoms here. There’s also a post specifically about memory problems over here.

The pattern I describe; that these symptoms are a list of possibilities not ‘every torture victim will get all of these’ holds true for trauma survivors generally. Anecdotally there is some variability with chronic pain being reported more often with some kinds of abuse. That might be because it can have physical causes, psychological causes or a mix of the two.

Whether it’s torture or abuse there isn’t any way to predict a survivor’s symptoms in advance. Much of the advice I have about writing torture survivors and their symptoms holds true for trauma survivors generally. Which is why I’ll still take a crack at some questions that aren’t about torture.

Pick the symptoms that you feel fit the character and serve the story. We can’t predict symptoms and that means that there’s no reason why you shouldn’t pick the things that appeal to you.

And I think I’m going to leave it there. I hope that helps :)

Available on Wordpress.

Disclaimer

*This is a weird English endearment. I had someone ask if this was me trying not to swear.

#orphicphosphenes #writing advice #tw torture #torture as training #legal definition of torture #clean torture #military abuse #trauma #trauma and consent #pain #pain and memory #sleep deprivation #attitudes towards clean tortures #writing survivors #abuse within the military

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snowdice · 4 years

Text

Road Trips and Missing Persons (Part 10)

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Patton & Virgil, Virgil & Deceit, Logan & Patton, Emile & Remy, Roman & Remus & Janus

Characters: Patton, Virgil, Deceit, Remus, Roman, Logan, Emile, Remy

Summary: Patton was just getting groceries. The next thing he knew, there was a knife at his throat and he was an unwilling uber driver. Virgil’s on the run after the murder of his dad, and it’s not just his paranoia that’s telling him he’s being chased down. He has to get somewhere safe, somewhere he can trust, and all he has is a couple of stories from his dad and a name: “Green Bellow Foods and Dispensary.”

Notes: Secret Agents AU, knives, carjacking, kidnapping, murder mentioned, guns mentioned, pepper spray, blood mentioned, drugs mentioned, explosions (more to be added)

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve affectionately named it the Goblin Brain Fic because it’s helping my brain actually get motivated for studying. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 My Master Post

Janus could feel his heartbeat speed up at he looked at his phone, but he didn’t dare let that show on his face even though she couldn’t see him. He calmly clicked the talk button on his phone. “Hello, mother. How can I help you?” he asked.

“I’d like an update on the situation with the Gates boy,” she said.

“I’m currently on his trail,” Janus informed her. “He had an unfortunate head start because of Kinsley, but I have managed to figure out he went to the nearby grocery store and saw him on security footage. I should be making more progress soon.”

“I see,” she replied. “The boy used his phone.”

Janus took a half second to pause at that. “Well, that’s good for our aims,” Janus replied levelly. “I assume you were able to track the call.”

“Yes,” she said. “He was attempting to call his uncle. He has managed to get impressively far. I will send you the details of his location.” She paused. “Wait, it seems he’s currently attempting another call to an unknown number. Strange, there doesn’t seem to be a record of it in any database. You wouldn’t possibly know the number 499-555-0721.” Fuck. That was his other phone number… the phone number of the phone he broke earlier.

“No, I don’t,” Janus lied. God dammit. Why did he break that phone?

She hummed, seeming to accept that. “I see you are still at the grocery store. I’m sending people to meet up with you at that location.”

Oh fuck.

“Is that really necessary?” Janus asked, sounding bored. “Surely I can handle it myself.”

“It will be more efficient to have multiple people working together especially with a drive that far,” she said. He could tell by her tone that there was no room for argument.

“Of course,” Janus replied.

“Good. I have already sent them your location.” She hung up without another word.

Janus looked down at his phone. “Well,” he said. “I’m dead.”

“That bad, huh?” Remus asked.

“She’s sending people to ‘help’ me.”

“Shit.”

“You said the security cameras upload straight to the cloud, right?” Janus asked.

“Yep,” Remus confirmed.

“Well. No way out of it then.” His phone beeped with details about Virgil’s location. Calmly, Janus walked around the car and opened the door to get the atlas Remy had gotten him when he’d turned 16. He’d scoffed at it because of GPS, but he’d kept it even when he’d gotten rid of the car mother had given him for the same occasion. He opened the map of the state and circled the location Virgil was at on the map.

Just as he finished that, he was also forwarded the names and locations of the two goons coming for him. “Convenient,” he said glancing at their current positions. “Remus, remember all the times you’ve talked about wanting to blow this car to hell?”

“Yes!!” he said excitedly. “To be fair it’s any car, but yes!!!”

“Wait!” Roman said. “Why are we blowing up the car?”

“Distraction,” Janus replied. “The path they’re on should take them over Washington Bridge, so if we blow it up on that, it should delay them by quite a bit. Plus, mom can track the car and they’ll probably loop back trying to find me.”

“Isn’t there, like, a better idea, maybe?” Roman asked.

Remus reached over and put his hand over Roman’s mouth. “Shh, Roman, let me have this.” Roman shoved him away.

“We’ll go get one of your cars, drive mine to the bridge, and Remus can do his,” he waved his hand at him, “thing.”

“…I still don’t think.”

“Trust us, Ro-Ro.” Remus threw an arm around his shoulder.

“See, that makes me think this is even worse of an idea.”

“Look,” Janus bit out. “I know my mother and as soon as she figures out I’m fucking her over, they’ll be literally gunning for us. Blowing up the car will delay them as well as destroy the tracker and any information they can get from the car.

“Okay,” Roman agreed, though he still didn’t seem comfortable with it. Apparently, he’d gotten all of the responsibility in the womb.

Speaking of… Remus had already taken the laptop and packed it back up before throwing it none to gently into the trunk. Roman winced, but Janus shrugged. It was going to get destroyed anyway. In fact, Janus tossed his phone into the trunk with it.

Janus couldn’t resist smiling at the excitement in Remus’s eyes as he slammed the trunk closed and made his way to the passenger seat.

“We’re taking my car though,” Roman insisted. “I’m not getting in his death trap.”

Having seen the car for himself, Janus nodded. “Agreed.”

They drove back to get Roman’s car and then Remus requested grabbing something from his own car.

“Why do you even have that in your car?!” Roman shouted from his car’s window as Remus unpacked explosives from his trunk.

“In case of emergencies!”

“What type of emergen-”

“This type!”

Janus just shook his head, and Remus packed the explosives into the trunk of Janus’s car and then himself into the passenger seat. Then they drove off towards the bridge only about 10 minutes away. Remus wiggled in excitement in his seat.

“Calm down,” Janus attempted to snap, but it just came out fond. Disgusting.

Remus just gave him a dopey smile.

Janus turned back to the road. “I hope you know this means your cover is blown as well.”

“Yeah, ah well, it was only a matter of time anyway,” he said, shrugging. “I will have to move though. That’s going to suck.”

Janus hummed noncommittally.

“Ooo, we should go in on an apartment together!”

Janus glanced over at him in surprise. “What?”

“And we can get a cat!” Remus said instead of answering him. “I love cats, but my current apartment won’t let me have one. That’ll be on the list of things to look for: an apartment that allows pets.”

“Why would we be moving in with each other?” Janus asked.

“Well, you’re not going to be living with mommy dearest after today and we’re best friends.”

“We’re partners,” Janus replied blankly.

“And best friends!”

“I… you… we’ll discuss this later. I have too much to think about right now.”

Remus shrugged and startled rambling about how ‘big the bomb is going to be.’ Meanwhile, Janus did his best to firmly shoved the words “best friends” as far down into his subconscious as possible.

They arrived at the bridge quickly and Janus parked his car in the middle of it; Roman parked at the other end of the bridge.

“Well, don’t leave anything in the car,” Janus said. Remus nodded, back to bouncing up and down in his seat at the prospect of the imminent explosion.

Janus trusted Remus to know what he was doing with the explosives and simply walked away from his car towards Roman’s. There was a loud explosion when they were about 200 feet away from the car. Janus suppressed a flinch.

“You could have waited until we were completely off the bridge,” Janus commented mildly.

“But we look cooler like this,” Remus argued with a manic grin. “Plus, I saw a car coming towards the bridge on the other side and didn’t want them to get on the bridge before the explosion.”

Roman had his window rolled down when they approached. “Remus is in back.”

Remus put a hand over his heart like he’d been wounded. “I’m your brother. I should get shot-gun.”

“I am not allowing you access to the radio. I’ve been on too many road trips with you.”

“Dad’s the one who insists on playing a mix of geek rock and explicit rap music which he completely doesn’t understanding the lyrics of,” Remus pointed out with a pout.

“And I should have disowned the both of you years ago. Get in the back seat.”

“But…”

Janus ended the sibling dispute by getting in the passenger seat himself.

Remus grumbled as he got in the back seat. Janus opened the atlas and found their current location on the map. “Get on the interstate heading East,” he instructed Roman.

The question of how on Earth they were going to find Virgil when he was moving rather quickly crossed Janus’s mind, but he smothered it. They’d stop and do some investigation once they were closer to his current location. It would be fine.

Roman glanced over at him as he started to drive and sighed. “You may have control of the radio as passenger,” he offered. “Just, please do not betray me.”

Janus sent him a wry smile and let himself get distracted messing with the radio. He flipped through a few stations before landing on one that seemed to be devoted mostly to Latin pop.

“Yes,” Roman said. “A great decision.”

“No,” Remus whined when he stopped on that station and leaned back. “You’re supposed to find the one that annoys Roman the most. It’s in the spirit of the road trip.”

“That seems ridiculous,” Janus commented.

“It is,” Roman agreed.

“Noooo. Embrace the spirit of the road trip.”

“Well finding a station that Roman likes seems to annoy you the most. So, I guess I am ‘embracing the spirit of the road trip.’”

Remus made a mournful sound and Roman chortled. “You’re my new favorite person,” Roman said.

Janus found himself smiling despite himself.

“Just for that, I get naming rights for our cat,” Remus informed him seriously.

“What cat?” Roman asked.

“Janus and I are going to get an apartment together since his mom’s going to try to murder us both, and we’re going to get a cat.”

“Ah,” Roman said as though that made total sense to him. Janus guessed growing up with Remus made it easy to accept such statements. “Don’t let him name it. He’ll name it something stupid.”

“I will not!”

“You tried to name our hamster Sexy Dorito!” Roman exclaimed and then looked at Janus. “Who names a hamster… who names anything Sexy Dorito??” he asked.

“The same person who accidently died his hair neon pink on a covert mission,” Janus answered.

“Hey!” Remus said, leaning forward to insert his face between the driver and passenger seats. “No!”

“Put your seatbelt on, Remus,” Janus ordered.

“Oh, you’ve got to tell me about that one,” Roman said.

“No! Don’t betray me, Janus!”

Janus did, in fact, betray him.

Want to read more? Click below!

AO3 Part 11

#sanders sides #creativitwins #remus sanders #roman sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #platonic moxiety #emile picani #remy sanders #road trips and missing persons #logan sanders #adriana writes #kidnapping #murder mentioned #guns #platonic demus #explosions

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consentaclecthulhuwrites · 3 years

Text

Free Bird, Chapter 6

The next time Revali saw her was at the informal ordination of Link as her sworn protector and chosen knight. The ceremony had supposedly been crafted to be uplifting, and a symbolic beginning for the dangerous journey upon which they were all about to embark. However, if this ritual was meant to set the tone for the entire mission, Revali could only dread the outcome of the plan.

The commentary while Zelda stood above her chosen knight suggested Revali was not the only one with this sense of foreboding.

“Gee, this is uplifting.” Daruk sounded disarmingly sarcastic. “She’s making it sound like we already lost.”

Revali piped up, “Wasn’t this your idea? You’re the one who wanted to designate the appointed knight with all the ceremonial pomp, grandeur, and nonsense we could muster. And if you ask me, the whole thing does seem to be overkill. I think I’m on the same page as the princess regarding… this boy.”

“Oh, give it a rest,” Urbosa sighed. “That boy is a living reminder of her own failures. Well, at least that’s how the princess sees him.”

Her own failures? Revali didn’t understand what Urbosa could have meant. From what he knew of her, Zelda was an accomplished scholar and the pride of the Hyrule legacy. She had modesty, charity, and chastity. She was elegant, well-spoken, truly kind, and carried the weight of royalty like it were gossamer. There was something weighing her down to be sure, but Revali couldn’t imagine it had anything to do with her royal lineage.

Especially around the boy, she seemed more distraught than ever. What was it about this chap that got so under her skin? All the boy had was a stupid destiny. Unlike some people, the champions actually had to work for their skill, for their place in this league of future legends. It was apparent that Zelda had more than earned her reputation as one of the foremost scientific minds Hyrule castle had to offer, as well as a devoted acolyte. Sure, the murmurings made her sound more fanatical and eccentric than anything, but Revali chalked that up to shallow minds with shallow thoughts. It was the squabble of the little people, and what did they know or matter? It was their ignorant hides that needed saving.

After the ceremony had concluded, the champions were allowed time to explore the grounds of the castle. Link had gone to the stables with Mipha, Daruk was off near the armory, Urbosa was in the dining hall carousing with some of the younger soldiers, and Zelda had supposedly returned to her quarters. Revali observed that the princess had slipped out of sight rather swiftly, and none seemed eager to attend her despite what was clearly a downtrodden appearance.

He wondered...

Zelda hunched over the desk in her lab, scowling down at her journal. Why did she ever listen to Daruk? He was such a blockhead sometimes. She appreciated his sentiment; for a man of stone, he certainly had a warm heart, but the ceremony had been an absolute disaster. All the muttering amongst the champions while she spoke the ceremonial script… She caught bits here and there.

“Already lost…”

“Overkill…”

“Failure…”

Her face burned with shame. She wanted the ceremony to be meaningful, positive, and give hope to everyone. She should have known that endeavor would fail. Zelda had no hope herself. Since childhood, the inkling of the goddesses, the innate sense of their presence, just did not exist for her. Her prayers were answered with silence. Her fasts were met with ravenous spiritual hunger. She even offered up plants as sacrifices, then cried with guilt for wastefully plucking them without result. For whatever reason, the goddesses found her… unworthy.

She scribbled hastily, trying to put down the words as fast as they entered her brain. On the verge of tears, she noted, “It is as if there is a great chasm between the goddesses and I. I shout and shout for them to hear me, but only my voice bounces back from that deep, unending void.”

She heard a noise and snapped her journal shut. Someone was clearing their throat. She whipped back to the doorway, but no one was there upon opening the door, nor waiting at the end of the bridge that led from her scientific tower to her bedchamber.

She began checking the windows and at last, she saw a fierce green eye surrounded by blue feathers floating within the frame of one of the slit-sized windows.

“Champion Revali, I believe it was you who reiterated that it was rude to eavesdrop when we first met.”

He hoisted himself up to where he was fully visible in the window frame, flapped his wings, and gave a bow. “My sincerest apologies.”

“Also, do you not think it inappropriate to come see a member of the royal family in their private chambers?”

“But I’m not in them, now am I?”

Zelda laughed. “Are you in need of something, master Revali?”

He offered a gallant smile. “Perhaps your majesty would care to join me for a walk on the grounds. I can see everything up here, but I’ll admit… Hylian structures are baffling to me. I wondered if perhaps you would be willing to educate me.”

The warmth of the smile that grew on her face told Revali he had succeeded in breaking her out of whatever dismal reverie she’d been in when he peered in at her, scowling at her journal.

Zelda met Revali at the base of the stairs. They began to explore the walkways leading down the primary battlement of the castle with a leisurely gait.

“Here we have the entrance to our library.”

“Library?”

Zelda blinked in surprise, then ushered Revali inside.

“What in Hyrule…” His eyes widened as he glanced around the massive room filled wall-to-wall with books.

“Surely you know what a library is, Revali.” Zelda giggled.

Revali rolled his eyes and ruffled his feathers, then said, “Of course I know what a library is… I’ve just never seen one this massive. There is no actual library in the Rito village.”

The princess’s head cocked to the side. “Why not?”

The Rito raised his wing up to the princess’ field of vision and wiggled the most controllable, dexterous portions of his wing, which still looked wildly unwieldy.

“Oh… penmanship and flipping pages must be difficult!”

“Only disciplined Rito, dedicated to the art, actively pursue reading and writing beyond a primary education. We are creatures of oral tradition and have little use for books, though some of the oldest legends are inscribed on tablets of stone.”

“Is it mostly birdsong?”

“Yes. Why would we speak about the legends of the Rito when we could sing the ballads of heroes, the laments of our tribe, the lullabies our fathers learned from their fathers?”

Zelda pondered this for a moment. Then asked: “Do you sing, Master Revali?”

“I can, but I generally do not.”

Zelda had led Revali up a cascading set of stairs and was clearly determined to show him a specific volume. She was scowling and tracing her fingers along titles as she walked along the upper level of the library.

“I could have sworn it was in this section… Found it!” She pulled out a broad but thin volume, clearly weighted, almost square enough to be used as a breastplate for armor fitted to the girl. A harp was crested into the volume’s cover, gilt in gold.

“This is a musical volume of songs from Hyrule’s history. Do the Rito use notations like this?”

She showed him a page with a simple melody. The notations were similar but…

“We use lines like this but typically our musical staves are much larger…” He squinted at the page and then pulled back. “Our notes are not all round. We use shapes and lines to indicate different note lengths…”

“Fascinating! Could you read a melody like this?”

“I am not well-versed in musical notation. We received basic training in childhood, but after those initial years, my studies were dedicated elsewhere. However, this melody is similar to one we learned as nestlings. The Ballad of the Goddess, I believe?”

Zelda laughed with excitement. Revali could not help but notice her laugh was high and sweet, almost birdlike with a chirpy nature.

“Would you sing it for me, Revali?”

“I would rather not.”

The disappointment that fell across her face was immeasurable. It nearly ruined Revali’s day to see her so put out; he felt he had to explain, even if the reason was made up on the spot.

“I do not like the way I sound when I sing from prescribed notes; the planned nature feels stifling. I would rather you not insist.”

“Oh. I would never dream to impose upon you. I’m sorry!”

Revali turned very stern, and gazed at her directly. “Do not apologize. It is not for someone of your position.”

Zelda was a bit taken aback by this admonishment. Most did not speak to her in this blunt fashion. No one but her father had spoken in unfiltered directives. She understood the Rito were a singularly bold people; perhaps tact was not really part of their vocabulary. Her facial expression betrayed her utter bafflement. She nodded sharply.

“You’re right, Revali.”

At that moment, a member of the royal guard emerged at the top of the stairs and was clearly headed in their direction. Revali moved from the princess’ side just as the guard focused his attention on her and said, “Your presence is requested by his majesty King Rhoam.”

Zelda turned to speak with Revali, but he was already taking a bow.

“Till we meet again, your highness.”

The guard extended his arm, and Zelda passed him by, where he took up her rear as he escorted her from the library, following her quite closely.

Revali watched as she disappeared down the staircase, the royal guard following behind her. Why send a guard? Why did he follow her with so little space between them? What an incredible sign of disrespect. It’s as if they expected her to give chase if they even dared to blink. He hoped nothing was amiss. But he couldn’t help to wonder, yet again…

~*~*~*~*~

Link to Chapter 5 HERE

Link to Chapter 4, Part 2 HERE

Link to Chapter 4, Part 1 HERE

Link to Chapter 3 HERE

Link to Chapter 2 HERE

Link to Chapter 1 HERE

#revali #legend of zelda #zelda #breath of the wild #botw #revali x zelda #zelda x revali #free bird #free bird chapter 6

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lokislytherin · 4 years

Text

euphoria // vampire!jungkook

pairing: vampire!jeon jeongguk x human!reader summary: you’re scared of vampires - until one saves your life one night. word count: 1988 + 1808 +

chapters: prologue / chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / epilogue

The next few days are mostly uneventful.

Taehyung visits and shamelessly beats your ass at Mario Kart when he steals Seokjin's DS, only to have his older brother return and beat his ass in an act of revenge. Taehyung begs for rematches, and the amount of times Seokjin wins is alarming. That day, you learn that your roommate is surprisingly competitive when it comes to Mario, games, and Mario-related games.

You also meet up with college student Kim Namjoon, who has kindly volunteered to tutor you in math. In the span of your one hour-long session, Namjoon manages to misplace both his wallet and his phone while rambling on about trigonometry and Greek mathematician/philosophers. Thankfully, he finds both in the cafe booth you've been studying at. You bear him no offense, but you're glad for the distraction your new friend's disastrous luck and tendency to babble offers you, if only for a short while.

Even though he tries not to show it in front of you, you can tell that Seokjin is still suspicious about what happened - or rather, didn't happen - the other night. You shut your own worries down, telling yourself firmly he's better off not knowing. If he found out that you met a vampire, he'd flip out and pitch a fit, or have a heart attack. Perhaps he'd do both, and proceed to lock you in your room and never let you out without him being by your side. He's never been good with horror films, but again, neither have you.

The next time you find yourself alone, it’s night-time again. All your friends are busy – most of your friends from school are already asleep or being insomniac gremlins; Taehyung is doing some last-minute studying for a test the next day; you're not desperate enough to contact Namjoon, and not familiar enough with him either; and surprisingly enough, Jin is on a date. Despite your initial irritation at him ditching your movie night, you’re happy for him – he needs to get out more, and his good looks deserve much better than to go to waste with him being a bachelor for the rest of his life.

You sigh as you attempt to brush out the tangles in your damp hair, envying Seokjin’s effortless beauty. No matter what he does, he's flat out gorgeous, and he knows it, even if nobody else notices. But you? You're not exactly society's image of 'drop dead gorgeous'. All your previous relationships have gone to shït, even though you will admit that it was not your fault. You glare at your reflection, and the girl in the fogged-up mirror glares right back at you.

You turn around, sick of looking at your messy, knotted hair – and scream.

There’s a boy. In your bathroom. A boy with dazzling blue eyes and gleaming white canines, a boy that doesn’t appear in the mirror. A boy that clearly can't be human, no matter how much his other features almost lull you into a false sense of security.

He grins. “Hi.”

Did I mention the boy is in your bathroom? Had he arrived a few minutes earlier, you would've been naked.

You scream again, right in his face. It’s the bloodsucker from several nights ago! You quiver upon realizing that his fangs are even sharper up close. He cute though, the voice in your head supplies helpfully. It's not wrong. He winces, immediately clamping a hand over your mouth. His skin is cold, cold as ice, whereas you are warm, face flushed with terror and mild embarrassment. Enclosing you in his arms, he carefully pulls you away from the mirror, setting you down on your bed. Your eyes are wide, brain frozen in fear, body unable to move of your own free will. You seem a little less scared of him than he is of you as he pulls his hand away from your face, but reflexively presses a finger against your lips to shut off another scream from you. You go cross-eyed at the contact. Is he trying to kill you, or flirt with you?

Boys are confusing, you decide.

“Sorry if I scared you,” he says quietly, almost bashfully, “I keep forgetting I’m not a human anymore.” If he were human, he’d probably be blushing, but he’s not, and his face is pale, without any sign of a flush. He looks a little paler than he should be, but that’s it. He carefully sits down beside you, leaving a large gap in the middle.

“Thanks for calling me cute, though,” he says, incredibly forward but somehow even shyer than before (and shït, Y/N, you realize belatedly, he’s not supposed to be this cute! He’s dead!). He doesn’t meet your eyes. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

You finally gain control of your tongue (and your brain). “I don’t mean to be rude, but who the fück are you and what the fück are you doing in my house?”

You know it’s probably unwise to swear at an undead being who could drain you dry of blood and life in less than a minute, but right now you’re too angry, scared (and honestly a little turned on) to care about that. Besides, the vampire boy doesn’t really look like he could hurt you. “I’m Jeon Jeongguk, and I’m a vampire. I won’t hurt you; I swear.” You narrow your eyes. The primal instinct inside your head still screams at you to run, even as you see how he looks a little lonely, a little sad. “You’re still scared of me, aren’t you?” You nod, and he pouts. Eyebrows knitted together, he closes his eyes in intent focus, and you watch in fascination as his fangs retract into his gums to reveal normal human teeth. “Again, I’m really sorry for scaring you the other day.”

He cracks a wry smile. “I’m not me when I’m hungry.”

To your surprise, a giggle escapes your throat. “You’re a vampire. How do you know about Snickers?”

He looks wounded. “Why wouldn’t I know about Snickers? I'm not too big a fan myself, but I still know about them.” He sighs. “Believe it or not, I was human too.”

You resist the urge to hug the stranger upon hearing the sadness in his tone, instead just softly patting his arm. “How old are you?” You blurt curiously. The question’s been on your mind for a while. He looks young, not much older than you are. But how old is he really?

Jeongguk pouts. “I hate it when people ask me that. I’m so shït at counting.” He tries anyway, counting with his fingers and looking confused. “I was turned a year ago? I was twenty-one, but I haven’t physically aged since then. So, does that make me twenty-two, or am I still twenty-one? Am I supposed the years I’ve been alive for? But I should be biologically dead, because my heart’s not beating anymore and I'm fueled by blood and magic-”

He stops and sniffs the air. “Actually, I think your roommate’s back.” He closes his eyes, sniffs a little more and promptly looks disgusted. “He doesn’t seem very happy.”

You cock your head. “Emotions have scents,” he explains, “irritation and self-deprecation smell the worst.” He wrinkles his nose with a small pout. “Werewolves can distinguish scents better, though. They're like dogs, especially near the full moon.”

You coo inwardly at the pouty look on his face, and jump when you hear Seokjin's key twisting in the lock. Your room is further away from the door than Jin's, and if Jeongguk can smell Seokjin from here he must have one hell of a nose. Briefly, you're tempted to pull out some garlic bread.

“Well, that's my cue to leave.” Jeongguk smiles so brightly you're a little dazed. He looks like a bunny - adorable - and it's so cute that you're squealing and dying on the inside at the same time. “Bye!”

That said, he jumps out the window.

You almost scream and throw yourself out after him, only to remember he's a vampire with far better reflexes than you. You see him downstairs, a blur of black in the shadows. He stops and waves goodbye, like an energetic puppy of sorts. With a light blush on your face, you wave back.

You flinch away from the window as the door creaks and swings open, hearing a disheartened looking Seokjin stomping in. You hope he doesn’t notice the lingering blush on your cheeks. You'd feel bad if you snagged a cutie and he didn't, after trying for so much longer than you have.

“I take it that the date didn’t go too well?” You ask, testing the waters as you walk out to greet him. An angry and heartbroken Seokjin is never a good Seokjin to deal with.

Seokjin mumbles something unintelligible, and you hum to get him to clarify.

Seokjin throws himself onto the couch. “She ditched. She didn’t even call, or text! I waited for an hour. Alone. In the dark.” He sniffs, pouting. “These dates are so stupid. I feel so stupid. Why do I even bother anymore?”

You sit down beside him, patting his shoulder reassuringly. “Oh, darling.” He’s a little older than you, but he’s used to your fond nicknames. “You’ll find the perfect one for you soon enough.”

He huffs. “You say that every time,” he retorts bitterly. “Well, maybe you’ll find someone who appreciates you.” He sighs heavily, barely giving you time to move your arm before he flops backwards dramatically, almost boneless. “I hope so too, Y/N.”

Seokjin switches on the tv, mindlessly flipping through the channels.

“Still up for movie night?” You suggest.

Your roommate nods gratefully. “Hell yeah.”

You take the remote from him, laughing. “Good, because I’m picking the movie.”

He groans dramatically. “Oh, what a nightmare.”

You move to flick his forehead, but he ducks out of the way. “Just for that comment, we’re watching Twilight. Now get the chips.”

He obliges, albeit grudgingly. Neither of you are big fans of the vampire movie franchise - or the books, for that matter - but your sassy jabs at the characters never fail to make Seokjin feel better.

You won't tell him about your ulterior motives - after a vampire named Jeon Jeongguk barreled into your life, you've never related to Bella Swan so much.

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reidology · 4 years

Text

He Was A Skater Boy... (Chapter 4) (Hotch/Reid)

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner / Spencer Reid

Summary: Aaron and Spencer's first study session turns into something... cuddlier?

Word Count: 1,638

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

Chapter 4: Spirits in my room, friend or foe?

Okay. This is fine. This is fine. Spencer is not freaking out. Sitting on Aaron’s bed, staring at the Blink-182 poster stuck to the wall behind a bong and- is that a fucking encyclopedia? - surrounded by the sights and smells of one incredibly intoxicating Aaron Hotchner. Spencer is decidedly not freaking out. No matter what the sweat on his brow may indicate.

The little alarm clock on Aaron’s desk was ticking ticking ticking, counting down from 30 with 5 minutes left. 5 minutes left.

They were studying. Well, Aaron was studying. Spencer was tutoring. Spencer was tutoring Aaron and Aaron was studying at his desk right now filling out a practice test that took Spencer no more than two minutes to write up and now he was waiting in silence for him to finish. Not freaking out.

Nothing had happened when they got to the dorm. Aaron had simply shown him around the small room by pointing at things. “Bed. Desk. Bathroom. Welcome to the lavish lifestyle of a broke college student.”

What had immediately caught Spencer’s eye was the plethora of books strewn about the room. These books weren’t the boring law manuals that you’d expect a law student to have in their dorm (those were just kept on the desk). These were worn out and used classic novels, Dickens and Dickinson… biographies, Dahmer, Bundy… mystery novels, Aaron had the whole David Rossi collection! That alone could have made Spencer swoon.

The next thing he noticed was Aaron pulling his shirt off and replacing it with a comfy Columbia University sweatshirt. It was in times like these that Spencer really was so grateful to have an eidetic memory, because though Aaron’s bare chest was only visible for a second, that was all he needed for the memory to be ingrained in his mind forever. Aaron hadn’t even mentioned it, just threw an Introduction To Criminal Law manual at his chest and said, “This is what we’re doing this week, gonna help me?”, so the younger boy closed his mouth, sat on the unmade bed, and read the manual in just a few minutes.

While he wrote the quiz questions down, Aaron had asked him if he even needed to read words or if his supercomputer brain just processed everything without any effort. Spencer felt the need to point out that one doesn’t really need to read texts word for word, your brain will comprehend the information before you even realize you’re reading, but Aaron had already moved on to another subject, stating that his brain must be like Spongebob’s. When Spencer had furrowed his eyebrows and pouted, Aaron explained that Spongebob’s brain was like an office, full of filing cabinets and little versions of himself running around screaming. Followed by a quieter “How have you never watched Spongebob?”

“Hah, the screaming part is actually quite accurate, it seems my mind is in a constant state of distress,” Spencer retorted.

“Are you distressed right now?”

“That would be what the ‘constant’ part of my statement implied, yes.”

“Smartass.”

“I’m a genius, Aaron”

Aaron only chuckled and rolled his eyes, “Why are you distressed?”

His eyes darted around the room, not daring to look Aaron in the eyes, how was he supposed to tell him he was nervous because everything that’s happened in the past few hours was so far out of his depths? He only shrugged and mumbled, “New environment, I guess.”

“Well, what can I do to make you feel comfortable? How do you usually relax?”

The response was immediate, “I read.”

“Tell you what, after I finish studying we can sit down and read for a bit. Get you used to this ‘new environment’, after all, you’ll be here a lot. I’m a terrible test-taker.”

Spencer smiled, “Sounds good, and you can’t be that bad.”

He got back to writing the questions. The manual covered the basics of what crime is as a concept and the structure of criminal justice. Things that Spencer already knew from reading several manuals and books on his own time. He wasn’t lame, it’s just that technical manuals tend to be more fun and informative than reading Pride and Prejudice for the seventh time, Mom. Nonetheless, he attempted to make the questions easy, just to get a sense of where Aaron was at so that they could focus on his problem areas. Spencer was good at studying.

Aaron sat at his desk to take the test, hunching over and biting at the tip of his pencil. The timer was set to half an hour but during his silent not-freak-out Spencer noticed he only wrote for seven minutes and spent the rest of the time erasing and rewriting. The timer sounded and brought his consciousness back to the forefront. He took the paper Aaron handed him and took a few seconds to look it over.

Fuck. It was bad. So bad. Spencer tried to keep a neutral face on but Aaron had gotten every question wrong and the answers were so underdeveloped it was like grading a kid’s spelling quiz. Distressed, he looked up to Aaron’s pure innocent unsuspecting perfect face.

“Aaron… These are all wrong… For ‘define crime in your own words’ you just put ‘when bad people do bad things’...”

“Oh..shit. God, I am such a doofus. How will I ever pass these midterms?” Aaron’s grin was wicked.

Spencer rolled his eyes and shoved the paper to Aaron’s chest. He had a feeling the skater was smarter than he let on…

“It’s getting late, I should go… We’ll work on your ‘answers’ next time.”

A flash of worry crossed Aaron's face, but Spencer must have imagined it. They’d just spent hours together, surely he was getting sick of him. He started packing his things, but Aaron interrupted him, “Wait…” Aaron’s hand on his wrist stopped him from packing any further, “Stay the night. Besides, I promised you we’d read, right? I am a man of my word, Doctor Reid.”

Spencer couldn’t keep the shy smile off his face, he knew he had to say yes or he’d regret it. Not only that but Penelope would never let him live it down.

“You did promise, and we can’t have you start breaking promises now, it would hurt my feelings.” At Spencer’s fake pout, Aaron grinned, pushed him gently back onto the bed and said, “Show me what you’re reading today.”

--------------------------------

After about 45 minutes of reading side by side on the bed, Spencer reading a technical book on the life cycle of the praying mantis and Aaron mostly watching Spencer while pretending to read a JFK biography, the older man decided he’d had enough of the silence. Don’t get him wrong, he was immensely enjoying staring at Spencer's lips mouthing the words and at his long fingers as he flipped a page every few seconds, but he wasn’t into this silence.

“What is that?” He reached out for a book that was peeking out from Spencer's satchel on the bed. It was rather large in height and had gorgeous red art on the cover. It looked quite old, quite important.

“Oh, that’s 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea by Jules Verne”

Aaron let out a grunt of understanding, urging Spencer to go on, “It’s a classic. It was published in 1870 and was groundbreaking for its time. 20,000 leagues is roughly 50,000 miles and it’s the depths that the Captain of a futuristic submarine captain and three adventurers travel to. They encounter monsters and new landscapes, it’s actually the book that we get a lot of adventure tropes from today. You know Nemo the fish?”

Aaron nodded.

“Well, that name comes from Captain Nemo from the book. Jules Vernes wrote a lot of influential novels, like Around The World In 80 Days which I’m sure you’ve heard of.”

At that he nodded again. The story sounded interesting, and Spencer seemed to have a deep interest in it. Besides, Aaron could listen to this boy talk all day.

Aaron bit his lip timidly, “It sounds really lovely, why don’t you read it to me?”

Spencer was taken aback for a second but quickly erased the shock from his features. That might have been the most seductive sentence he’d ever heard, and it came from Aaron’s mouth. Even better.

Trying not to show his nerves, Spencer smiled and said “Of course.”

He set his and Aaron’s books down, took out the Jules Vernes from his bag, and settled underneath a blanket. Aaron helped himself to a share of the blanket, and usually Spencer would feel uncomfortable being so close to someone, but he noticed he didn’t mind at all. He began to read, ‘The year 1866 was signalised by a remarkable incident…’

As Aaron listened intently to the story, the younger genius couldn’t help but notice that dark-haired man was staring at him. A big part of his insecurity was telling him that it was because he had something on his face, that Aaron was staring at him because he was a joke to be gawked at. But there was another blooming part of his brain that thought maybe, just maybe, Aaron Hotchner was staring at him because he thinks he’s pretty.

At some point between Chapters five and six, Aaron’s head found Spencer’s shoulder, a bit after that Aaron’s eyes closed, but Spencer knew he was still listening because he’d let out a low chuckle once in a while that he could feel through his arm. Then Spencer’s own eyes began to feel heavy and his cheek found the top of Aaron’s soft hair. His words began to drawl and the book in his lap fell closed. Warm under the blanket, pressed close to his new friend, it just felt right to succumb to the black behind his eyelids.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #aaron hotchner x spencer reid #hotchreid #hotch x reid #skater boy #my fic #penelope garcia

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george-mackay-macfine · 4 years

Text

Dear Diary Prt.10

November 17th, 2011

Dear Diary,

Or rather, future Y/N,

You should remember to be proud of me, I’ve been sticking to my new life rules, as hard as it has been. Especially when it comes to staying away from guys, especially when those guys names start with G… Especially when that one guy is under the impression we are best friends, and only friends, and nothing is wrong, and you don’t have a steaming hot crush on him, and you aren’t actively going out of your way to try and ignore him…

Especially when the boy whose name starts with G joined Henry, Harry and I’s study group, and sat beside me for a full three hours making adorable goofy faces at me every time I uttered a complicated word.

Overall it’s been fucking peachy.

Let’s hope when Henry teaches me to cook I don’t burn down the flat,

Love, Y/N

November 19th, 2011

Dear Diary,

I think my brain is going to overheat from the amount of studying I’ve been doing lately. Every night Harry has been making sure I keep on track and sits with me at the living room coffee table and helps me study, I don’t know how he does it, helps me study and does his course work,

Henry, Harry and I are still doing our group study sessions, Dean sometimes joins, George often joins…

For future reference Y/N, the crush on George… yeah, it hasn’t gone away.

November 21st, 2011

Dear Diary,

A MONUMENTOUS OCCASION,

Dean-Charles Chapman has asked a girl out to dinner… Okay, so he asked Charlotte out to dinner… And, yes okay he asked Harry, Henry, Jordan, George and I… but he still asked a girl out.

I think he wanted to ask her out alone, but he chickened out, for the tough boy whose not scared of anybody, he sure seemed to pale when he stuttered out,

“D-d-d-o you want to go to dinner… with me…”

Harry looked like he was going to pass out from shock, and well I think I did blackout for a minute there.

Either way, I know am being forced to take a night off from the books and enjoy a dinner with my friends.

Do they not know how hard it is to become a doctor?

In case you forget future Y/N,

It’s hard!

November 23rd, 2011

Dear Diary,

I want to mark down a ‘normal’ week in my life for future Y/N, you know when I’ve lost my marbles and think I’m going mental with how busy I am.

Here goes,

Monday

Mondays are rough. I have a lecture from 8 am until 10 am, followed by a lab or small groups (Which some of the guys, like usual don’t help out) from 10 am until 12 pm.

Exams also usually land on a Monday, by God’s punishment - which always makes Monday’s just that tiny bit worse.

On days when the exams are on Monday, our lecture is generally followed by a two hour, yes TWO HOUR lecture of the next block we’re about to study.

Monday’s generally wear both Blake and me out, so Harry bless his soul has taken to cooking dinner every Monday.

Once a month George knocks on my door well past midnight, he pretends to be drunk but I can’t smell any liquor on his breath, and when I turn him away he makes the most irresistible face. The next day he pretends he did nothing… It’s infuriating.

Tuesday

Tuesday is a little more relaxed. A lecture from 8 am - 10 am, followed by problem-based learning (PBL) case - This means attempting to diagnose hypothetical patients based on provided signs, symptoms and labs. PBL concludes with the assignment of look-ups, based on the case.

Tuesday is great, my classes are generally over by 1 pm, which is when I meet Henry and Harry at the library, (sometimes joined by George, sometimes by Jordan or even Dean) and I catch up on the weeks lectures, complete by PBL lookup, and then Henry comes home with me and is teaching me how to cook, I’ve learnt to make lasagna so far, or at least the oven has…

Wednesday

Wednesday’s start the same, morning lecture and small group or lab occupy 8 am - 12 pm.

Every other week we meet for the Practice of Medicine (POM) sessions from 1 pm - 5 pm. Where we’re led by a dynamic psychologist and physician duo, we learn patient interviewing techniques and practice our physical exam skills.

After POM I go to the library, study until 6 pm then it’s time to go meet the guy’s at their flat where they make dinner for us (Yes, George can cook)

Thursday

Thursday’s, the same as the rest of the week, You’ve probably remembered out the morning pattern, but here it goes again. Thursday mornings start with a lecture followed by lab/small groups ending at noon.

During non-POM weeks, I visit my Ambulatory Care Apprenticeship from 1- 6 pm, There, I have a chance to practice my fledgling physical exam skills and work on resecting the awkward from my patient interviews under the guidance of a primary care physician.

Thursday nights are another night where Harry, Henry and I meet at the library, and you guessed it, sometimes the other boys are in tow, sometimes Charlotte is there too, generally, if Charlotte is there it means Dean is normally… Dean has a crush…

Friday

Friday, 8-10 lecture, followed by day two of PBL where we give short presentations of our lookups, covering topics from disease etiology to physicians’ legal rights and obligations.

If I don’t have a text the next week I’ll usually let the boys talk me into playing at least one round of beer pong, or even going to one of the campus parties… probably not though, most of the time Charlotte comes over and we laugh at the boys,

I also mostly flirt with George.

Saturday

Saturday’s… I’m at the library, nearly all day, sometimes George can pull me out for an hour to have a picnic, which I’d never say no too.

Sunday

I do nothing, expect think about George and how I’m ruined for life, and how stupid I am for allowing him to control so much of my time.

Y/N, If you do this in the future with other guys. I’m going to make you regret it.

Love,

Y/N (2011) (Still in love with George)

November 25th, 2011

Dear Diary,

I remember when I was fifteen I’d dream about my future and how amazing it’d be when I was in university, spending nights out with friends, drinking and dancing the night away, having breakfast at two in the morning because we could, going to all-night diners and drinking over the top milkshakes, well it finally happened.

“My brain hurts,” I moaned to Harry as I rubbed my temples pencil dropping against my notebook.

“Do you want to get breakfast with me?” I opened one of my eyes and looked at him. “We’re getting breakfast,” He nodded his head packing up both our things. “It’s late, and we’re going to have breakfast together.” Harry grabbed my books and bag motioning for me to get up.

“Harry, it’s like midnight,”

“Perfect time for breakfast then,” He grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the exit. Bursting out the doors. “The very first hour of the morning, nothing says midnight better than pancakes.” I let out a giggle shivering as a gust of wind hit me.

“I’d love to get breakfast with you.” Harry looked both ways down the road, checking for any oncoming traffic grabbing my hand tighter, pulling me so we ran across the road. I shivered again as we walked down the block the wind whipping my hair around my face.

“You’re cold?” I shrugged another shiver hitting me. “Here,” He put our bags on the ground shrugging off his topcoat, leaving him in just his denim jacket. He held it out to me, nodding his head towards it.

“Harry…”

“Take it,” He turned me helping me shrug the coat on. “C’mon,” He held his hand out to me again, a smile on his face. I grabbed his hand and walked with him down the street again until he pulled me to a stop. “Here we are,” Harry smiled pulling the door open ushering me inside. As soon as we entered and the small bell above the door chimed a middle-aged woman appeared. Her blue waitress uniform covered by a white apron.

“Well good morning you two.” She pulled two menus from her apron, handing them out to us, we both took one from her. “How’s your night gone? Good, I hope.” Her smile never left her face as Harry shook his head ‘yes’ smiling back at the lady. “Well, you two take a seat, I’ll be over shortly to take your order.”

“Thank-you.” Harry pulled me away from the woman and up to the far end away from the door. Apart from another group of students we where the only customers in the diner, so it wasn’t a fight to find a private place. “Here’s good, Right under the heater so you won’t be cold.” He smiled pointing above his head to where one of the vents was sending warm streams of air down onto us. I smiled at him before sliding into the booth, watching him as he did the same on the opposite side.

“So.” We said at the same time, stopping and laughing for a second.

“You first,” I insisted.

“I just wanted to check you were warm enough.” I felt a blush come to my cheeks as I looked down at the table. “But your cheeks are giving you away,”

“I’m quite warm thank-you, Harry.” I ignored his comment. “Do you think you’re ready for the exams?”

“Yeah, I think so,” He nodded his head. “But I don’t want to be too cocky, in case I fail…” I couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Can’t have MacKay beating me again,”

“You two are too competitive.” I smiled picking up the menu and flipping over the pages, looking over the different type of meals. “Hmm bacon and eggs, pancakes, what the hell is a pancake tower,” I spoke aloud reading from the laminated pages. “Is it like the tower of Pisa made from pancakes?” Harry let out a deep chuckle. I put my menu down and looked at him. He was watching me amused. “I’m serious. If I order the tower of pancakes is it going to come out here as a replica of the tower of Pisa or am I going to be very disappointed?” Harry shook his head still watching me, the smile never leaving his face. “What?” I questioned, he shook his head again.

“Nothing, Nothing,” He smiled his eyes going back down to his menu, I smiled and did the same.

Do I really want pancakes?

A milkshake maybe?

Why do I love food so much?

“Are you two ready to order?” I jumped in surprise as the waitress from before snuck upon us. “Oh dear, I didn’t mean to scare you sweet pea.” She chuckled deep in her belly.

“It’s okay.” I brushed off closing my menu. “I’m ready when he is.” I looked across the table to Harry who’d shut his menu and placed it on the table. He nodded his head affirming he was also ready. I turned to the waitress smiling. “Can I please have the scrambled eggs and bacon with a glass of pineapple juice.” The woman nodded scribbling down my order before looking up from her pad to Harry.

“And I’ll have a tower of Pisa.” He cut himself off with a chuckle. “I mean the tower of pancakes.” The waitress chuckled writing down the order. “And a cup of coffee will be fine for me.” He added on. She nodded her head and walked away muttering how it wouldn’t be too long.

“Tower of Pisa huh.” I giggled, Harry shook his head and threw a packet of sugar at me. “How about twenty questions?”

“Isn’t that one of your dreaded party games?”

“Maybe,” I sat up straighter in my chair. “Okay, me first.” I thought about all the things I wanted to ask him. I decided to start small. “Who is your favourite author?”

“Stephen King,” I nodded my head, smiling wider. “IT was the first book that made me scared of the dark for a month straight.” He laughed at himself. “My turn… Are there people you don’t like?”

“Elle… Oliver…” I shrugged my shoulders. “Just to name a few,”

And that girl who George kissed at the first party.

“Why?”

“I believe it’s my turn,” I smirked. “What are the most important things in your life?”

“The truth,” He nodded his head. “I don’t like being lied to.”

“That’s an important thing,” I agreed smiling. “But I did say things.” I wagged a finger in his face.

“Ask me in a couple of months.” He shrugged coyly.

“Here we go, a glass of pineapple juice, and a coffee.” The waitress placed our drinks in front of us. “Food won’t be too long.”

“Thank you,” Harry smiled politely before grabbing his coffee and taking a drink. “Darkest period in your life?” I took a deep breath.

“Right after my boyfriend cheated on me with my best friend” I felt myself slump in my seat. “I was in this dark pit… I’m just glad school was over, I don’t think I could have dealt with that.” I laughed in self-pity.

“Y/N, if you don’t want too,” I shook my head.

“No it’s good to talk about this.” I smiled again. “It wasn’t all bad… I met George,” I cleared my throat. “He helped me,”

“And that’s why you like him?” I nodded my head.

“Pancake tower, and bacon and eggs.” The waitress sat the food in front of us. “Enjoy kids, let me know if you need anything else.” I smiled at the waitress as she walked off.

“Have you considered trying to date anyone else?” Harry asked suddenly from across the table.

“Harry, I am insane.” I picked up my fork. “No one should have to deal with me. I’m a mess I have George showing up to my bedroom door once a month trying to get me to kiss him again, and then the next day he pretends he doesn’t do it…”

“You’ve got to tell him,”

“What,”

“I can’t do that Harry,” I groaned. “You have no idea how much I wish I could because Y/N, She likes her sleep and he is interrupting it… too often.”

“Y/N,”

“What if he doesn’t pay me any attention after that?”

God Harry, if only.

#george mackay #georgemackay #george mackay fanfic #george mackay imagine #george mackay smut #Harry Styles #Harry Styles x Reader #HarryStyles #Harry Styles Imagine #Harry Styles Fanfic

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llucy-san · 4 years

Text

CHARACTER STUDY

Tagged by lovely @pd3 ❤️ and maybe someone else but.... 🤷‍♀️

@faithchel @ja-crispea @smithandrogers @shelliechen @v3ryvelvet @veinereastath @dieguzguz @f0xyboxes @fadedjacket @risenlucifer @tomexraider @fromathelastoveritaserum @goodboiboomer-fc5 @geronimo-11

I made it as my OC's would answer this ask game, so go ahead and read if you want to know more about them or how they interact.

LAYER 01: THE OUTSIDE

NAME: Hope Amelia Lansdowne but Hope is enough.

EYE COLOUR: It's mix of blue and green, but more of blue.

HAIR STYLE / COLOUR: Long, wavy blond hair, but I like to comb it into a bun or a ponytail.

HEIGHT: 5′6″

CLOTHING STYLE: I usually wear comfortable things like T-shirts, pants, combat boots and of course my military jacket. But you won't find anything fancy like dress in my closet.

BEST PHYSICAL FEATURE: *shrugs* Don't know, whole body i guess. I'm trying to be fit.

LAYER 02: THE INSIDE

FEAR: Lose the ones I love.

GUILTY PLEASURE: I got drunk once so hard with mates, Sharky and Hurk that you don't even want to know where we woke up the next day. A week after our little meeting, I felt still little dizzy. But I would never trade my two to ride and die. NEVER.

BIGGEST PET PEEVE: My plane!! You can look at it but don't touch it.

AMBITIONS FOR THE FUTURE: Live life to the fullest and enjoy every moment with our loved ones.

LAYER 03: THOUGHTS

FIRST THOUGHTS WAKING UP: Glaring at those little numbers on my alarm clock and whisper “I hate you” but then *sighs* I remember all the things that awaits me that day and somehow, I get out of bed.

WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT MOST: If I will have the strength to get up the next day.

WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT BEFORE BED: My baby!! I usually fall into bed and instantly fall asleep.

WHAT THEY THINK THEIR BEST QUALITY IS: My flying skills and maybe my humour. There is nothing better than being sarcastic to someone who you don’t like. Or if I won fight over men twice my size.

LAYER 04: EITHER OR

SINGLE OR GROUP DATES: I don't do dates, and quite frankly, I don't even have time for it. But if I have to choose, I prefer single.

TO BE LOVED OR RESPECTED: Can't I choose both? I think they're both corresponding.

BEAUTY OR BRAINS: Brains, definitely.

DOGS OR CATS: Both, take a look at Bommer and Peaches. They're both so adorable.

LAYER 05: DO THEY

LIE: Who hasn't? I try to be honest but sometimes some situations requires it.

BELIEVE IN THEMSELVES: What kind of bloody question is that? *frowns* Of course, I believe in myself.

BELIEVE IN LOVE: If you meet the right one, go ahead. Though, I was not so lucky.

WANT SOMEONE: Why are you asking? You offer?

LAYER 06: HAVE THEY

BEEN ON STAGE: Nope.

DONE DRUGS: Sharky has a lot of stuff, but I keep my hands off it, so no.

CHANGED WHO THEY WERE TO FIT IN: I don't need to pretend in front of anyone to fit in. I am who I am and I will never force myself.

LAYER 07: WHAT'S THEIR

FAVORITE COLOR: Don't have one.

FAVORITE ANIMAL: Wolves, I adores them.

FAVORITE BOOK: *shrugs* I don't read much, but when I do, I read what's first hand.

FAVORITE GAME: If you consider games where you drink a lot, then yes. *shifts in her seat* Hey, you should come to Spread Eagle with me sometimes and we can play our drinking games. Hurk will bring his liquor he got from many journeys he survived and Mary will make her famous cocktails.

LAYER 08: AGE

DAY THEIR NEXT BIRTHDAY WILL BE: 24th September

HOW OLD THEY WILL BE: 25

LAYER 09:

I LOVE: Flying, I have flying in my blood, or just being in lap of nature.

I FEEL: *sighs* Tired of your questions.

I HIDE: My bourbon! You wouldn't believe how hard it is for me to bring it here unseen. Especialy from Sharky cause he will drink anything he can see.

I MISS: My parents. I didn't get a chance to say goodbye with them one last time or go to their funeral.

I WISH: To be done with this so I could go.

LAYER 01: THE OUTSIDE

NAME: Marcus Adam Lansdowne but Marcus is fine.

EYE COLOUR: Blue

HAIR STYLE / COLOUR: Short-cut blond, short on the sides and up here *combing his hair* I have to comb it back or hold it with something, usually cap helps me.

HEIGHT: 6′1″

CLOTHING STYLE: T-shirts, pants but also something elegant like suits. But I wear them only at special occasions.

BEST PHYSICAL FEATURE: Arms, for sure. But Avery, my wife, will tell you something else.

LAYER 02: THE INSIDE

FEAR: My family above all. All I have left is my sister and my loving wife. So if you so much as look at both of them in the wrong way, *leanes closer in his seat* then, you and I have a problem, mate.

GUILTY PLEASURE: You would believe me but singing while playing on my guitar.

BIGGEST PET PEEVE: When I lose something and Avery or Hope says, "Well, where was the last place you had it?" Seriously? That's being helpful? If I knew the last place I had it, it wouldn't be lost, now would it?

AMBITIONS FOR THE FUTURE: I don't know. I have everything I need and don't need anything else.

LAYER 03: THOUGHTS

FIRST THOUGHTS WAKING UP: Time in the army taught me to get up early so, next question.

WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT MOST: Family

WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT BEFORE BED: What kind of question is this? *frowns* The bed equals rest. What else should I think about? Oh you mean. *clears his throat* Next one.

WHAT THEY THINK THEIR BEST QUALITY IS: Strength, devotion, intellect.

LAYER 04: EITHER OR

SINGLE OR GROUP DATES: I don't know what you want from me anymore.

TO BE LOVED OR RESPECTED: Respect from others and love from family.

BEAUTY OR BRAINS: Brains.

DOGS OR CATS: Dogs.

LAYER 05: DO THEY

LIE: I hate it when people lie to my face, but I'm not an innocent either.

BELIEVE IN THEMSELVES: Yes, I do.

BELIEVE IN LOVE: Yes

WANT SOMEONE: *quirks his eyebrows* I'm hapilly married. Avery is only one I want.

LAYER 06: HAVE THEY

BEEN ON STAGE: No

DONE DRUGS: Never in my life.

CHANGED WHO THEY WERE TO FIT IN: No.

LAYER 07: WHAT'S THEIR

FAVORITE COLOR: Dark blue, black, dark green.

FAVORITE ANIMAL: Wolves, dogs, I don't know.

FAVORITE BOOK: I don't know, but the last time I read something was by Faulkner.

FAVORITE GAME: Hope once took me to one of their gatherings in Falls End and it didn't go so well. Although, I had fun like never before, but I have never had such hangover in my life. And I have to warn you about Sharky's home-made liquor. Strong as hell.

LAYER 08: AGE

DAY THEIR NEXT BIRTHDAY WILL BE: 2nd February

HOW OLD THEY WILL BE: 33

LAYER 09:

I LOVE: Enjoying days with my family and friends or spending time in the woods.

I FEEL: Fine

I HIDE: Nothing you need to know about.

I MISS: Parents. I miss them very much.

I WISH: To stop asking me these odd questions.

LAYER 01: THE OUTSIDE

NAME: Hayley Louise Moore but friends calls me Hale.

EYE COLOUR: Olive green

HAIR STYLE / COLOUR: Semi-long chocolate hair and at the ends it turns into soft waves.

HEIGHT: 5′5″

CLOTHING STYLE: It's usually a blouse and a pencil skirt, but also a dress. But what I love most are my sweaters and sweatpants, which I wear in the late evenings while reading books.

BEST PHYSICAL FEATURE: I run around the docks every morning so I'd say legs. Nature here isn't like in Atlanta or New Orleans, but it's much more beautiful.

LAYER 02: THE INSIDE

FEAR: *laughs* Well, my husband's flying. Like, I'm not afraid of flying, but the last time he took me with him and he did his wild stunts like front flips or whatever he calls it, I almost killed him after we landed. I'm not kidding. *shift in her lovechair* Affirmination and I are not friends.

GUILTY PLEASURE: Dancing while vacuuming or cleaning the ranch.

BIGGEST PET PEEVE:

AMBITIONS FOR THE FUTURE: Seeing my kids grow up into the wonderful adults we're with John trying to raise.

LAYER 03: THOUGHTS

FIRST THOUGHTS WAKING UP: New day new beginning. Morning is my favourite time of day.

WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT MOST: Kids, Family, you know stuff like this.

WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT BEFORE BED: Sleep, only sleep, and maybe something else, *whisper while leaning closer* but that's not appropriate.

WHAT THEY THINK THEIR BEST QUALITY IS: My persuasive skills. I always get what I want because I learned from the best, I know.

LAYER 04: EITHER OR

SINGLE OR GROUP DATES: Single, certainly single. Actually I think I've never been to a group dates before.

TO BE LOVED OR RESPECTED: Both

BEAUTY OR BRAINS: Brains. No matter how handsome or beautiful you are, I care how you will deal with difficult situations so I choose brains.

DOGS OR CATS: Cats

LAYER 05: DO THEY

LIE: Not often, but only here and there.

BELIEVE IN THEMSELVES: Yep.

BELIEVE IN LOVE: I do.

WANT SOMEONE: Why are you asking? Only my husband.

LAYER 06: HAVE THEY

BEEN ON STAGE: Nope

DONE DRUGS: No, it will completely destroy your brain.

CHANGED WHO THEY WERE TO FIT IN: I've never been able to pretend who I'm not, so no.

LAYER 07: WHAT'S THEIR

FAVORITE COLOR: I don't have a favourite colour, but my wardrobe mostly consists of soft colours and black and white combination.

FAVORITE ANIMAL: Cats because of their eyes.

FAVORITE BOOK: Fitzgerald. I love Great Gatsby.

FAVORITE GAME: I don't play games much. I'm not very good at them.

LAYER 08: AGE

DAY THEIR NEXT BIRTHDAY WILL BE: 15th August

HOW OLD THEY WILL BE: 27

LAYER 09:

I LOVE: Watching my husband cook, because have you seen someone like him work around in the kitchen? *glances behind her shoulder* I just adore him.

I FEEL: Good

I HIDE: My cookies!! Listen, I love Jacob, he is my favourite brother in law but he always eats almost everything on plate before I can. I have to be fast if I want at least one or two cookies from Faith.

I MISS: Every now and then I miss my life in Atlanta and my best friend Nadia. *sighs* God, you should meet her, you’d love her.

I WISH: To have at least one of those delicious cookies cause my brother in law just came so if you don't mind I will go.

#oc ask thing #oc asks #oc hope amelia lansdowne #oc markus adam lansdowne #oc hayley moore #fc5oc #Thank you for tagging me ❤️#my oc's

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ravenbrenna09 · 4 years

Text

Safe - Chapter Two

READ IT ON AO3

...

Hello, damn, that was one hell of a night, huh? I'm so glad that I managed to get this chapter done because I have to study alllllll weekend long for my test on Tuesday (and work on my project that is due Thursday).

I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and I hope to see you next time!

Note: Ignore any remaining spelling or grammatical errors. I am far too tired to catch them all of them, so I will likely be editing in the morning and will catch them once I wake up.

So, let’s just pretend that we (and by we, I mean, me) are all not seething with rage directed towards Arthur’s dad. (I’m flying to France tonight to fight him, who is WITH ME!)

...

Robbe.

It was the only thing that Sander could think of as he sat at his desk. He had finally managed to get his art room completely how he had wanted it. After he had managed to unpack the remains of his clothes that had been abandoned the night before by Britt’s insistent calling and (later) a flight to, and from, a pool, Sander had settled down to work on the gift for Arthur (he finally had all the signs for it, not that he blamed Noée, she was a busy woman) and now he could get down to work on how to start it out. Or, at the very least, something in his stack of commissions.

But, as he sat with a blank sheet of paper in front of him, his mind was dry of any inspiration or ideas on what to do. He couldn’t even picture any of it at all, even with the photos of the signs on his phone, sent to him through Eliott.

Because all he could think of was Robbe.

He was all-consuming like a wildfire that had encompassed Sander’s entire brain. His fingers itched to hold him again, to send out a message telling him to hurry up, because he just wanted to be there to hold him in his arms, kiss him senseless. But, Sander knew that Robbe was in his test (Sander had sent him a good luck text before, free of any flirtatious teasing in an effort to not distract him) and he felt like his brain might explode from being completely, irrevocably consumed with Robbe.

What was it his high school art teacher used to say?

Don’t hold it in. Just let it all out. Then, you’ll be able to focus.

Sander picked up his pencil and drew.

He drew what he wanted, what he needed, the curve of the face forming within a matter of minutes, barely visible on the white paper. It was so easy to draw it, Sander realized, his phone turned down, the memory of Robbe engrained in his mind. The photo from the warehouse, him beneath the waves, on the edge of the pool, in the alley, outside his house, all of it came flooding into Sander’s mind, coursing through his fingertips as he drew. He drew until his hand was cramped and there was a rough sketch on the page.

Robbe amidst a heart-shaped hole in a wall, the middle of an explosion that was waiting to happen, in his mind, in his heart.

His mind buzzed with recognition, at Robbe’s texts from earlier.

Chernobyl.

As if summoned by the power of Sander’s thoughts, his phone buzzed against the surface of his desk, causing him to jump in his seat, and he flipped over to the phone to see who had sent him the text message, relishing in the way that his chest glowed. Robbe.

I’m downstairs, outside the gate. Come let me in. Please 🥺

Without even realizing an hour and a half had passed and now Robbe was here. Sander’s heart thumped expectantly in his chest as he leaped up from his chair, sending him a text to let him know that he was on his way down. Picking up the sketch of Robbe in Chernobyl, he filed it in his blue folder, the one that he kept all of his personal sketches, before moving out of the art room, grabbing his keys, and headed outside.

The elevator ride down was too slow, but it was worth it to see Robbe there, waiting patiently at the iron gate, shifting from one foot to the other, his thumbs idly playing with his phone. Sander bit down on his lip as he approached, trying to stop the need to throw himself at Robbe. He was dressed in a brown jacket with a hoodie and t-shirt beneath it, all seemingly engulfing his figure, and a pair of jeans that did the same. Today, he wasn’t wearing a beanie which might’ve been a good thing because Sander wouldn’t have been able to hold back.

He needed to be cautious because he didn’t know if she was around… and the last thing Sander wanted was for Robbe to get hurt for being with him.

Once Sander opened the gate, Robbe looked up and beamed at him, brilliantly, infectiously, captivatingly, “Hey!”

“Hey,” Sander spoke, grinning. He extended his hand and Robbe took it, their hands fitting together easily. Sander tugged him inside the courtyard, closing the door before leading him into the apartment building. He could tell that there was a silent question in Robbe’s grip, following him into the apartment and across the lobby to the elevator. Sander ran the pad of his thumb across Robbe’s knuckles, relishing in the feeling of his hand in his, and tugged him into the elevator after everyone who was inside spilled into the lobby.

Once the doors were closed and they were alone with the number 6 lit up, Sander couldn’t hold himself back any longer, turning towards Robbe, grabbing him by the chin and angling his face up so their lips could slot together, easily and efficiently. Robbe let out a noise of surprise, still clinging to his hand, but the other reached up, clinging to Sander’s bicep, pulling him closer against him, making the kiss deeper. Sander ran his fingers through Robbe’s hair, feeling the gentle pull of the elevator lifting them upward. Once the elevator began to slow, Sander pulled away, resting his hand against Robbe’s chest.

Robbe whined.

“I know, I know,” Sander replied, probably sounding as desperate as Robbe felt. “But, this is our stop.”

Robbe sighed, a grin forming on his features as he looked up at Sander with half-lidded eyes. The elevator stopped, the doors opening, and he gestured towards the door. “Alright. Lead the way.” Sander grinned, pulling Robbe along as he fished his keys from his pocket. Robbe waited patiently as Sander slotted his key into the lock of his apartment, opening the door, stepping inside, and tugging him after him. The living room was still covered in moving boxes, on his couch and coffee table, and Robbe sent him a grin. “I thought you were talking about unpacking.”

“I got all my clothes unpacked, but I decided to move onto commissions.”

“Oh? How did that go?”

“Not good, I didn’t get any work done,” Sander admitted. Robbe smiled, understanding on his features as he toed off his shoes by the front door, next to Sander’s Docs and the shoes he had just taken off, dropping his backpack beside them and then draping his jacket over it. Sander needed to get the hook from his old apartment back up, and the small table that he used to place his keys, so that way Robbe had a place to put his stuff when he came over.

When he came over…

Sander grinned and Robbe turned.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Sander remarked, stepping closer to him. Robbe’s eyes flickered down to his lips, his eyes blatantly honest in his want for the bleach-blond, and Sander relished in the thought of having that much of an effect on him. But, then Sander’s eyes caught sight of the flash of gold and he turned Robbe’s head to stare at the single stud in his ear. “Huh… I knew I didn’t imagine that metallic taste.”

Robbe chuckled, shaking his head and wrangling free of his grip. “What did you think that you made it up?”

“We did have a couple of beers and other assortments of alcohol in our system, did we not?”

Robbe let out a sigh. “True.” He swallowed, stepping towards him. “Is there anything else that you think that you might’ve imagined?”

“Wait, there's one more thing…”

Robbe raised his head, tilting his head up, trying to get them to kiss again, to bring their lips together slow and agonizing like in the elevator, and Sander could feel himself vibrating with want and need to have Robbe, as much of Robbe as the brunet was willing to give him and relish every piece of him that was offered. But, he also couldn’t help the teasing bone in his body, the one that wanted to see Robbe’s exasperated face and I can’t believe you in his expression that seemed to stick with Sander all last night.

And, so, Sander grabbed Robbe by the shoulders, twisting him around and pushing him towards the kitchen with a quick movement. Without even seeing his eyes, he knew that Robbe’s eyes were rolling back in his skull with his weight shifting against Sander’s hands. “Ah, you wanted the grand tour! Here, I’ll show you around.”

And, to his credit, Robbe was a trooper.

He let Sander lightly manhandle him around the apartment taking everything in as Sander tugged him from room-to-room, showing him rooms that were mostly covered in boxes and few items of personal value. When Sander showed him the art room, Robbe stepped inside, his eyes flickering all over the room, taking it all in. The walls of the room were covered with photographs and paintings that he had done over the years, some he had posted online, others that he kept to himself, and Robbe’s eyes darted over the room, taking it all in.

His eyes lingered on the window, where thick black curtains hung.

“It can double as a darkroom,” Sander spoke, stepping closer to him. Without thinking, other than the fact that he wanted to, Sander reached up, running a hand through Robbe’s hair, the brown strands flitting between his fingers. He grinned brightly when he spotted Robbe’s eyes fluttering closed, his head tilting back into the palm of his hand. “The one at my other apartment was a little bigger. But, it’ll do just fine.”

Sander dropped his hand to his shoulder, pulling Robbe back against his chest and catching him when they collided together. The brunet let out a surprised breath, half a laugh, as Sander wound his arm around his shoulders, holding him against his chest and guiding him out of the art room, towards the final room in the apartment, and the only one that had been somewhat started in terms of clean up.

Robbe chuckled. “Ah, I see. This was all a ploy to get me in the bedroom.”

“Yes,” Sander whispered, his lips brushing against the folds of Robbe’s ear. He heard Robbe let out a soft noise and gulped, his hand reaching up to place over the hand on his chest. Sander twisted his hand, so their fingers intertwined together, gripping tightly to Robbe’s hand. “As long as I have the bed up, I’m able to sleep and not have to sleep beneath my desk again.” He nipped at Robbe’s ear before pulling back, moving from the bed. Robbe let out a sigh. Sander grinned, moving towards the box that contained his movies. “So, what do you want to do? Watch a movie? I’ve got a little bit of everything and a Netflix account.”

Sander sat on the bed as Robbe let out a groan. Sander glanced up at him as Robbe rocked from one foot to the other. “You’re such a tease.”

The resulting grin covered Sander’s face completely. “If you think that I’m teasing, that means you’re definitely expecting more.”

Robbe rolled his eyes again, obviously as he crossed his arms across his chest, stepping closer to the bed where Sander was sitting.

As soon as he was close enough, Sander reached out, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of his jeans, pulling him closer. Sander had only intended for Robbe to stand between his legs to look up at him, but Robbe wasn’t having it. He stepped onto the bed, straddling his waist and briefly towering over him. Sander watched him, tilting towards him because he couldn’t help it, his hands settling down on the younger man’s thighs. Robbe settled down on his lap, Sander’s mind swirling briefly with the possibilities. One of his hands dropped to Sander’s hip and the other rested on the nape of his neck.

“And, if I was?” Robbe spoke, a silent challenge.

Sander grinned up at him. He couldn’t believe that this man existed. Even sitting on Sander’s lap, the swirling lust present in his eyes, Robbe still somehow managed to look so innocent. It was completely unfair for such a man to exist, so irresistible, and Sander couldn’t hold back anymore, as much as he wanted to continue teasing him.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, almost involuntarily, Robbe’s eyes followed it with a heavy stare, and he leaned up to press his lips against Robbe’s which the latter responded to immediately. His fingers dug into the strand of Sander’s hair and he leaned over him, pushing him lightly on his shoulder to get him to fall back. Sander brought him closer, slipping his tongue along Robbe’s bottom lip to get his mouth open, and Robbe’s mouth fell open eagerly, his fingers digging further, harder into Sander’s hair.

And, Sander wanted more.

But, even though they had been dancing around it all day in their texts, even though they had been on the verge of crossing every physical barrier that they could think of, he didn’t want a strictly physical relationship with Robbe, and he didn’t think that Robbe did either, he wanted to know this man, wanted to know more about him than just the way he kissed, the way that his body responded when Sander tugged on his hair. He wanted to know everything about Robbe that he possibly could and they couldn’t do that if they were all wrapped up like this.

Sander pushed up on Robbe’s chest lightly, just enough to separate their lips, and Robbe whined, again, and the grin on Sander’s face couldn’t be smothered. “Be patient,” Sander whispered, reaching up to press a featherlight kiss against his lips. Robbe tried to deepen it, probably not realizing he had done it, and Sander lifted Robbe off of him. The boy groaned, spread his legs out over Sander’s lap as the latter sat up, and the artist dragged over the box of movies. “Come on, let’s find a movie.”

Robbe pouted, sitting up and wrapping his arms around Sander’s shoulders, leaning his cheek against his shoulder and let out a sigh, “Fine.”

...

READ THE REST ON AO3

#wtfock #wtfam #safe: an unattainable spin-off #sander's pov #sander driesen #robbe ijzermans #sobbe #rosander #robbe x sander #sobbe fic #rosander fic #wtfock fic #my fic #unattainable fic #unattainable related fic stuff

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tylercamebackyes · 5 years

Text

i adore you, Cy.

surprise!! @imonlyhereforgay this is your gift!! i was stressing over it because everyone has so many parts and amazing stuff but i worked really hard on mine so im not changing it anymore. happy pride! also i used When too many times but i dont think TJ would care if he wrote a letter to Cyrus.

TJ writes a confession to Cyrus.

Dear Cyrus,

These are 10 of the times I got lost in your eyes.

When we went out for milkshakes after my first game of the season. You were telling a story about how your cousin drank his milkshake in 4 minutes flat, only to realize he was lactose intolerant. He never went out to eat with you again because you laughed at him for weeks. You laughed so hard telling the story that you started crying, but your eyes were lit up with joy.

When you came out to me in your basement. I made a joke about how girls would love a ping pong champion. You said you hoped the guys did too. The guys most certainly do. I was stunned into silence because I realized you wouldn't find it so weird that I thought your eyes were pretty.

That time we went on the Ferris wheel at Adrenaline City. You wouldn't look away from the spinning wheel, but I made you have a staring contest with me. You looked like you were about to cry until Marty spun the wheel and you screeched with your head in your hands.

When I had dinner at your house for your dad's birthday. I was helping serve cake when you said I had gotten frosting on my nose. You wiped it off with a napkin because I "wasn't getting the blue off." The blue didn't even come off after.

When I was getting you do do the high jump into the foam pit at Bouncy Castle Land. Andi and Buffy had always let you sit out, but I made you count to 10 with me before you let me push you off the platform.

When my cat had kittens and you were holding one, but it sneezed and you look at me smiling like a goof. I thought I could look at you smiling like a goof forever.

That time we were studying for my math test and you laughed at the drawing of my cat. When you laugh you get a sparkle in your eye. I got B+ on that math test and you took me to the Spoon to celebrate.

When we were playing the second championship game and I looked over at you during the last timeout. Your smile made me want to win the game to make you proud even though you would be proud either way.

When Andi was thinking about going to New York for an art school, so you went to the swings to think about it. I told you that you were allowed to be upset about it because she was your best friend and you would miss her more if you were here instead of with her. Andi decided not to go.

When you got a brain freeze from eating a snow cone too fast at the fair.

9 times I almost held your hand. Mostly times I missed my chance to.

When we went on that roller coaster and you said you couldn't feel your hands. I thought about it for a long time, but then we were upside down and I missed my chance.

When I watched your dance final and you were shaking when you finished, because when I'm shaking people holding my hands make me feel better but you were being hugged by Buffy before I got the nerve to.

When you came out to Amber at the Spoon, because she said she was frosting everything rainbow for pride month and you said you would definitely but a piece of cake for that, and she asked if you were LGBT+ and you paused and said you were gay. I didn't want to reach over the table so I didn't hold your hand.

When we were both laying on the couch but we couldn't reach the remote, so we both reached out to get it. I ended up falling off the couch.

When my cat scratched you and I helped you clean your hand, and I did technically hold your hand but I almost really held your hand.

When Andi was up for an art award and they were announcing winners. I started clapping to snap you out of peeling your fingernails. She didn't win, but she got 2nd place.

When we were having a sleepover and you turned over on the air mattress just to say "TJ, I LOVE dinosaurs." You started showing me shadow puppet dinosaurs, but you were too tired to do it right.

At Andi's slumber party, you were doing everyone's nails with Amber, and you painted mine yellow. "You're like my lemon boy, Teej. Or a sour-patch kid. Because you're sweet now," you said.

When Andi was upset about her parents not getting married and Buffy was hanging out with Marty again, you told me that you were afraid it was straining your relationship with them. I told you that if you could survive Celia becoming Ce-Ce and Buffy moving you could survive some change.

8 times I almost kissed you.

When we were at the pool and you did the big water slide, and you were so excited that you choked on the water. You laughed so hard that you had to get out of the pool.

When we met Amber's dog for the first time, and you thought he was the cutest thing in the world.

When we got churros at the fair. You got cinnamon on your nose and I still have no idea how.

When we had that pillow fight and you somehow got a hold of every pillow and it was like you had 3 pairs of nun-chucks.

When we were at the drive-in and you were holding all of the candy because Jonah had a broken arm. He said you wouldn't let him hold anything, but you said his arm was hurting. It was probably both.

That time at the lake when I jumped in, and you didn't want to jump in after me so you tried just walking into the lake but you slipped on the mud.

When we were swimming for Buffy's birthday party, Marty and Jonah flipped your floatie over. You complained about your hair the whole day, but I thought it looked better.

When you saw the shooting star on July 4th. Right after you saw it the fireworks started and the sound scared you.

7 times I almost told someone I liked you.

Buffy asked me after my first game of the season if I liked you, and I almost said yes. I said I didn't know.

My mom asked me why I had become so much happier lately. I said I was just having fun hanging out with you and everyone. Part of it was me being happy about coming out, but it was also being around you that made me so happy.

Jonah asked me how long we had been dating. He really thought we'd been dating for months.

I was paying for a Queen record when Bowie asked about the drawings on my hand. He asked me who drew it and when I said that you drew it, he said, "You two are pretty close, huh?" I just smiled and said yeah.

My cousins came over for Christmas. Addie is 8 years old and when she saw me texting you she said, "Why are you smiling so much? My mamma says people only smile that much when they're in love!" I thought it was really funny that she pointed it out before Buffy or Amber.

Jonah, Marty, and I were watching Love, Simon and they asked why I knew all of the emails by heart. It was nice to think of having a love story like that, even if it wasn't with you.

I almost told Amber's dog once, but Andi walked in before I said it.

6 times I did hold your hand.

When you were over and my parents started fighting while we played Mortal Kombat. I didn't want to feel scared like I always feel when they fight, even though I had never done it when they fought before.

When I came out to my dad. Or before, I guess. It made it easier having you there because I had someone there for me if my dad wasn't.

When you had a sleepover and we tried to watch all of Supernatural in one night. I fell asleep after a few episodes, but the first scene always makes me nervous.

When I was going into math class for the last test of the semester. You had worked with me the most and you believing that I could pass made me really want to pass the test.

When we listened to Paris by Sabrina Carpenter for the first time. It was more of me grabbing your hand and spinning you around to the music, but it counts.

When you brought me the blueberry macadamia muffin. That was one of the best muffins I've ever had, by the way.

5 times I almost called you at 2 am.

When my parents were fighting and I wanted to distract myself, but I ended up watching YouTube.

When Khalid announced his tour and I saw the post. You actually ended up calling me first.

When my cat threw up on my bed. I was really stressed but I got worried about the cat and told my mom instead.

After you dislocated your thumb when I tried to teach you how to play basketball. I was so worried that I couldn't sleep, but your mom posted on Facebook that you were fine so I let it be.

When I realized the song stuck in my head was Electric Love by BØRNS. Then I realized you were probably asleep, so I didn't.

4 times I did call you at 2 am.

When my dad told my mom that I was gay. I thought he was cool with it, but while they were fighting he said, "So YOU can have our abomination of a son." My parent decided to get a divorce later that week. I probably called you every week because I couldn't handle it.

When I realized another song that was stuck in my head was Maneater by Nelly Furtado. You didn't know what song I was talking about until I sang the "you wish you never met her at all" part.

When I had that nightmare where a clown came and attacked the whole town but you had an alliance with him but he was set on killing me so you died defending me then the clown died because he wasn't allowed to kill you.

When you texted me saying you hated crying at 2 am. You were crying about your stepdad making a homophobic joke. I said that he probably didn't mean it, and would stop once he realized he was directly hurting you. It still wasn't okay, though.

3 times I thought I had lost you.

When Reed brought that gun. I know I've said it dozens of times, but I didn't think he would bring it while you were there.

When your dad was thinking about moving to Texas and you got really excited, but your mom said she didn't want to give up custody so he stayed. I wanted you to be happy, but I also wanted to be with you forever and I wouldn't really want to be in Texas for months or years on end.

When Kira outed me to the school, and she looked at you when she said I was really obvious about it. I thought you weren't ready to come out in any way at school, but you said that our friendship was worth more than avoiding humiliation.

2 times I almost confessed.

That day when we couldn't reach the remote from the couch. Me falling off the couch made me forget about it, though.

When I came out to you. I was crying and you were almost crying and I have no idea why I was so terrified.

1 time I did.

Right now. I don't know why it's taken me so long, but with enough reassurance from Jonah and Andi, I'm writing this letter to you right now. I adore you, Cy. I want to be around you all the time. I would really, really like to kiss you. I know you might not feel the same, but I also know our friendship would survive a crush. I don't like keeping secrets from you. The last one is this: I like you. I like you more than I've ever liked anyone. And I had a teddy bear named Blueberry for 12 years until Reed blew it up. That's all.

Love, TJ. aka Tyler James.

#andi mack #tyrus #pride gift exchange #my fic #cyrus goodman #tj kippen

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pi-cat000 · 5 years

Text

MSA time travel idea (part 24)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Vivi POV, 8, 9, 10, Lewis POV, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Lance POV 18, 19, Lewis POV 2, 21 , 22, Vivi POV 2,

Part 25: here

The transition from ‘skewered on a stone spike’ to the real, physical world, is jarring. It’s like being thrown against a solid, brick wall of sensation. Touch, smell, and sight all crash into Arthur simultaneously, several times more intense than reliving the reconstructed memories.

Artificial fluorescent light, the lingering smell of petrol, and distant sounds of a car engine, all compete for his attention. Internally, Arthur wrestles with his new world view. He is still trying to process that, not only does he deserve every misfortune suffered since Lewis’s disappearance in his original timeline, including his own death at Lewis’s hands, but he has also managed to wreck his second chance. Failure. Complete, catastrophic failure. That’s what this whole trip into the past has been.

While he struggles to mentally recalibrate, his physical body is already strolling forward across the underground parking lot unhindered. The thing controlling his body knows exactly what it’s doing, walking up to where Darrel is unconscious and sprawled on the ground. The hospital car park- because this is definitely the park under St Peter’s Emergency Centre- remains devoid of people and appears unchanged despite Arthur feeling like he’s just lived through several days’ worth of unpleasant memories. How does that work? Arthur tries to reconcile the idiosyncrasy amongst his disorientation. Not even a second’s past!

“Actually, it’s been about two minutes,” Comes the cheerful verbal reply. Arthur goes very still at the address, his chaotic thoughts finally quietening to focus in on the second entity sitting alongside him. He doesn’t try and respond. He’s not sure if he should. Honestly, he’s half terrified that responding is going to draw unwanted attention when he desperately needs time to pull his thoughts together without being derailed. Bad enough that he’s struggling to think coherently, he doesn’t need someone else making it worse.

His?…Its?... body, snorts in amusement but reframes from commenting further, crouching down next to Darrel, scanning the unconscious man for an elongated second. It is odd. Arthur can feel himself move. He just can’t control any of it.

More disturbing, is how oddly happy and satisfied he feels. Sure, stress and fear are around, but they are muted and faded to a background hum. Logically, it makes sense. Emotions were a physical reaction, triggered in the brain. If the demon controlled his body, then it also controlled his body’s emotional responses. Just because Arthur remembers some high school biology fact does not make the experience any less jarring. It’s wrong to feel euphorically happy while his world crumbles around him. No wonder he’s having trouble thinking straight.

“I should probably find somewhere a little more private for this shouldn’t I?” The demon remarks after its short inspection, glancing around, attention fixing onto his van.

Arthur is pretty strong, physically, for his size, a side effect of an active lifestyle and demanding mechanical work. However, Darrel is tall and on the weightier side of things, meaning the demon is forced to drag the unconscious man by a leg across the concrete.

“Jeez, go on a diet or something,” The demon criticises, knocking and jostling Darrel about like he’s a sack of potatoes. It obviously shares Arthur’s physical limitations because it struggles for a good five minutes before finally forcing Darrel into the van. Arthur maintains an anxious, worried quiet, silently watching the doors to his van slam shut with needless force.

The demon mimes wiping dust off its hands in an exaggerated action, “Speaking of diets. Man am I hungry. You could definitely stand to feed this thing more, we’re running on empty here.”

Arthur feels his body stretch its arms up, loosening his shoulder muscles in a move he, himself, did habitually after lifting something heavy. Next, they’re moving around to the driver’s seat, pulling out keys, and Arthur finally puts two and two together. They’re leaving the hospital and going somewhere else. In amongst all the suffering and confusion, he’d forgotten the reason he was at the hospital to begin with. Uncle Lance. Was his Uncle even in the hospital? Or was it all a trick?

“Oh. That was all true. Our dear Uncle really is in dire straits,” The demon answers his unasked question, flipping the van’s ignition. The engine vibrates under them.

‘What did you do?’ Arthur is almost dreading the answer, but he needs to know. The need momentarily outweighs his fear, pulling his focus away from thoughts of Lewis and his rediscovered memories.

“So now you want to talk? Thought I was getting the silent treatment for a second there.”

Frustration and apprehension bubbles across his mind. ‘What did you do? Tell me!’

“Calm down,” The van jerks forward, spinning towards the exit, “We’ll get to Uncle Lance soon enough. That’s a promise.”

Arthur mentally recoils at a sensation of saccharine delight. It’s not him feeling that. It can’t be.

“…and I always keep my promises.”

A renewed weight bears down upon him, studying his reactions, watching him squirm. He tries to retreat, but there is nowhere to go. It makes for a disorientating car ride on Arthur’s part, knocking his cognitive processes askew, so he barely notices the passage of time. Lost in memory, his mind and body out of sync, he misses the trip through town, only getting shocked back into the present when the van turns suddenly onto an unsealed road. Rough and marred with potholes, the small track isn’t made for larger vehicles, causing everything to shake unsteadily.

The clock on the dashboard reads 3:52pm, meaning he’s lost about forty minutes. The demon is humming along to the radio, utterly relaxed despite the bumpy ride. Apprehension grows as Arthur focuses on the scenery visible ahead. The area is mostly flat, littered with stone bluffs and tall cactus. Empty of civilisation. There are no good reasons for them to be out here.

The van lurches to a stop, smack in the middle of the uninhabited terrain.“This should be far enough.”

The demon pivots around, leaning over the seat divider, scanning the Darrel-shaped lump in the back, “How’s the passenger going? Good? No complaints? That’s always a nice change.”

Next, they are clambering over the seat, pushing aside camping gear, and reaching over Darrel to throw open the back doors. Darrel groans, having been accidentally kneed in the stomach.

‘What are you doing!’ Arthur panics. He has a horrible suspicion, and he hopes he’s wrong.

“We,” The demon emphasis the word, shoving Darrel towards the open doors with a foot, “are tying up a loose end.”

‘What does that mean?’

“Oh, I think you know what it means.”

Another groan from Darrel who is stirring awake.

“Waking up I see. Just in time too,” An unceremonious kick, the demon braces its back against the front seats for leverage, and the barely conscious Darrel goes tumbling out onto rock and dirt with a heavy thud.

Arthur would have had to have been an idiot to have not to have realised the demon’s plans by now. Even is his state of disorientation.

‘You don’t have to do this! He wouldn’t tell anyone about any of this. Who would believe him even if he did say anything? No one believes in this stuff,’ He tries to argue, thoughts coming out jumbled and half-formed, memories of The Cave resurfacing. Specifically, memories of returning from The Cave, of knowing that something usual had happened, and no one believing him.

“Ha. Tell me about it. No one believes me about this stuff either,” The sharp tone pulls attention back. The demon climbs after Darrel. Its movements have taken on a predatory likeness, hyper-focused, buzzing with coiled energy. Arthur can feel its excited anticipation at odds with his own panic.

‘Stop!’

Arthur tries to do something, anything, but there are no footholds. He’s nothing but disembodied thought. He might as well be smoke, trying to stop a landslide.

The demon stalks forward, nudging Darrel onto his back, resting a foot on the other man’s chest and leaning in. The sun overhead is relentlessly bright, causing a shadow to fall across Darrel’s face. The multi-tool on Arthur’s keyring is brought out, small knife flipping open and held up.

“Wakey-wakey,” The demon taps a finger against Darrel’s forehead, causing the other man’s eyes to flutter open. There is a moment of confusion.

“You know his biggest fear was dying an insignificant death,” Arthur hears himself comment conversationally while they seemingly wait for Darrel to focus.

‘Stop. Whatever you’re doing. Just stop.’

“It’s funny because the only reason he’s here is because I needed a way to get to you. I’m sure he would have lived a long, fulling life otherwise.”

Darrel’s eyes have widened, clearing with renewed awareness. They shift to meet Arthur’s gaze, then move to land on the knife he’s holding.

“An extra in your own life. Isn’t that sad?” A patronising tutting sound and an exaggerated disappointed head shake, “Doesn’t get much more insignificant than this....”

Arthur’s body raises an arm, flicking the knife effortlessly across the other man’s throat. The jab is so quick and precise that Arthur doesn’t have a chance to object future. Blood splatters across the weeds and dirt. Whatever Darrel may have said comes across grabbled, choking off and dying.

“Insignificant and worthless to the end,” A chuckle. The demon flips the knife shut with a flourish. Tiny blood splotches speckle Arthur’s face and clothing.

Arthur’s brain freezes, thoughts grinding to an abrupt halt.

“Oh, come on. That was funny,” The creature laughs, amusement echoing, rippling out towards Arthur. A sick joy at Darrel’s misfortune. Guilt and horror build as well, faint but there, buried under the delight and satisfaction. At least Arthur can say that that is all him because there is no way this creature feels guilt!

A disappointed huff, “All those wonderful emotions and you pick that? Humans. No appreciation for cosmic irony.”

It’s not like he can control anything anymore. This isn’t him. IT’S NOT HIM!!! He doesn’t know why he’s trying to defend himself. He’s just killed a person, and he’s happy about it. That’s not him feeling that. It’s not!

“Sure, it is. It’s just a matter of perspective.”

Arthur’s too busy mentally freaking out to give callous statement much attention.

Note: RIP OC Darrel (and your two pages of unused character notes/backstory) you will be missed. Better watch out Lance.

Part 25: here

#MSA #mystery skulls animated #fanfiction #fanfic #arthur kingsmen #the demon?#mind control #posession #dark #angst #character death #emotional disorientation #possible disturbing imagery #a shity situation gets a whole lot shiter

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snowdice · 4 years

Text

Goblin Brain Study Session Fic 1 [Day 28]

Because I don’t want to just have walls of text for my Goblin Brain Study Session posts, I’m separating them by days. If you want to read the previous chapters, click the links below. I have chapter 10 done, but not edited and what I have done of chapter 11 under the cut.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

See this post for more details and feel free to send me asks to keep me going! It’s been a lot of fun so far! I will reblog this post with the story as I write them today.

I have no idea if I’m going to get interrupted as there has been a surprise small child in my home the last couple of days, but I have a meeting tomorrow and really need to do stuff so I’m trying to sneak a bit of time in while small child is distracted.

Janus could feel his heartbeat speed up at his looked at his phone, but he didn’t dare let that show. He calmly clicked the talk button on his phone. “Hello, mother. How can I help you?” he asked.

“I’d like an update on the situation with the Gates boy,” she said.

“I see,” she replied. “The boy used his phone.”

“Well that’s good for our aims,” Janus replied. “I assume you were able to track the call.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “He was attempting to call his uncle. He has managed to get impressively far. I will send you the details of his location.” She paused. “Wait, it seems he’s currently attempting another call to an unknown number. Strange, there doesn’t seem to be a record of it in any database. You wouldn’t possibly know the number 309-555-0721.” Fuck. That was his other phone number… the phone number of the phone he broke earlier.

“No, I don’t,” Janus lied. God dammit. Why did he break that phone?

She hummed, seeming to accept that. “I see you are still at the grocery store. I’m sending people to meet up with you at that location.”

Oh fuck.

“Is that really necessary?” Janus asked sounding bored. “Surely I can handle it myself.”

“It will be more efficient to have multiple people working together especially with a drive that far,” she said. He could tell by her tone that there was no room for argument.

“Of course,” Janus replied.

“Good. I have already sent them your location.” She hung up without another word.

Janus looked down at his phone. “Well,” he said. “I’m dead.”

“That bad, huh?” Remus asked.

“She’s sending people to ‘help’ me.”

“Shit.”

“You said the security cameras upload straight to the cloud, right?” Janus asked.

“Yep,” Remus confirmed.

Just as he finished that, he was also forwarded the names and locations of the two goons coming for him. “Convenient,” he said glancing at their current positions. Then he raised his arm as high as he could and threw the phone onto the ground. “Remus,” Janus said. “Remember all the times you’ve talked about wanting to blow this car to hell?”

“Yes!!” he said excitedly. “To be fair it’s any car, but yes!!!”

“Wait!” Roman said. “Why are we blowing up the car?”

“Distraction,” Janus replied. “The path they’re on should take them over Washington Bridge, so if we blow it up on that, it should delay them by quite a bit. Plus, mom can track it and they’ll probably loop back trying to find me.”

“Isn’t there, like, a better idea maybe?” Roman asked.

Remus reached over and put his hand over Roman’s mouth. “Shh, Roman, let me have this.” Roman shoved him away.

“We’ll go get one of your cars, drive mine to the bridge, and Remus can do his,” he waved his hand at him, “thing.”

“…I still don’t think.”

“Trust us, Ro-Ro.” Remus threw an arm around his shoulder.

“See, that makes me think this is even worse of an idea.”

“Okay,” Roman agreed, though he still didn’t seem comfortable with it. Apparently, he gotten all of the responsibility in the womb.

Speaking of… Remus had already taken the laptop and packed it back up before throwing it none to gently into the trunk. Roman winced, but Janus shrugged. It was going to get destroyed anyway. Janus couldn’t resist smiling at the excitement in Remus’s eyes as he slammed the trunk closed and made his way to the passenger seat.

“We’re taking my car though,” Roman insisted. “I’m not getting in his death trap.”

Having seen the car for himself, Janus nodded. “Agreed.”

They drove back to get Roman’s car and then Remus requested grabbing something from his own car.

“Why do you even have that in your car?!” Roman shouted from his car’s window as Remus unpacked explosives from his trunk.

“In case of emergencies!”

“What type of emergen-”

“This type!”

“Calm down,” Janus attempted to snap, but it just came out fond. Disgusting.

Remus just gave him a dopey smile.

Janus turned back to the road. “I hope you know this means your cover is blown as well.”

“Yeah, ah well, it was only a matter of time anyway,” he said, shrugging. “I will have to move though. That’s going to suck.”

Janus hummed noncommittally.

“Ooo, we should go in on an apartment together!”

Janus glanced over at him in surprise. “What?”

“Why would we even be moving in with each other?” Janus asked.

“Well, you’re not going to be living with mommy dearest after today and we’re best friends.”

“We’re partners,” Janus replied blankly.

“And best friends!”

“I… you… we’ll discuss this later. I have too much to think about right now.”

Remus shrugged and startled rambling about how ‘big the bomb is going to be.’ Meanwhile, Janus did his best to firmly shoved the word “best friends” as far down as possible.

The arrived at the bridge quickly and Janus parked it in the middle of it; Roman parked at the other end of the bridge.

“Well, don’t leave anything in the car,” Janus said. Remus nodded, back to bouncing up and down in his seat at the prospect of the explosives.

“You could have waited until we were completely off the bridge,” Janus commented mildly.

Roman had his window rolled down when they approached. “Remus is in back.”

Remus put a hand over his heart like he’d been wounded. “I’m your brother. I should get shot-gun.”

“I am not allowing you access to the radio. I’ve been on too many road trips with you.”

“Dad’s the one who insists on playing a mix of geek rock and explicit rap music which he completely doesn’t understanding the lyrics of,” Remus pointed out with a pout.

“And I should have disowned the both of you years ago. Get in the back seat.”

“But…”

Janus ended the sibling dispute by getting in the passenger seat himself.

Remus grumbled as he got in the back seat. Janus opened the atlas and found them on the map. “Get on the interstate heading East,” he instructed Roman.

The question on how on Earth they were going to find Virgil when he was moving rather quickly crossed Janus’s mind, but he smothered it. They’d stop and do some investigation once they were closer to his current location. It would be fine.

Roman glanced over at him as he started to drive and sighed. “You may have control of the radio as passenger,” he offered. “Just, please do not betray me.”

Janus sent him a wry smile and let himself get distracted messing with the radio. He flipped through a few stations before landing on one that seemed to be devoted mostly to Latin pop.

“Yes,” Roman said. “A great decision.”

“No,” Remus whined when he stopped on that station and leaned back. “You’re supposed to find the one that annoys Roman the most. It’s in the spirit of the road trip.”

“That seems ridiculous,” Janus commented.

“It is,” Roman agreed.

“Noooo. Embrace the spirit of the road trip.”

“Well finding a station that Roman likes seems to annoy you the most. So, I guess I am ‘embracing the spirit of the road trip.’”

Remus made a mournful sound and Roman chortled. “You’re my new favorite person,” Roman said.

Janus found himself smiling despite himself.

“Just for that, I get naming rights for our cat,” Remus informed him seriously.

“What cat?” Roman asked.

“Janus and I are going to get an apartment together since his mom’s going to try to murder us both and we’re going to get a cat.”

“I will not!”

“You tried to name our hamster Sexy Dorito!” Roman exclaimed and then looked at Janus. “Who names a hamster… who names anything Sexy Dorito??” he asked.

“The same person who accidently died his hair neon pink on a covert mission,” Janus answered.

“Hey!” Remus said, leaning forward to insert his face between the driver and passenger seats. “No!”

“Put your seatbelt on, Remus,” Janus ordered.

“Oh, you’ve got to tell me about that one,” Roman said.

“No! Don’t betray me, Janus!”

Janus did, in fact, betray him.

Chapter 11

Virgil smiled awkwardly at the cashier when he entered the gas station. He went straight to the coffee to get Patton one. He went ahead and got the largest size cup because they were probably going to be a while and started to fill it up at the machine.

He… didn’t quite understand why the man was still going to be driving him when he didn’t have a knife on him, but hopefully it wasn’t a trick. It was probably a trick. He should probably tell the cashier he’d been kidnapped.

But then the cashier would definitely call the cops and knowing his mother Virgil would definitely be screwed.

So, instead, Virgil put the lid on Patton’s coffee and found that there was one plain donut with chocolate frosting still in the case. He grabbed that and then searched around the candy aisle for a bit. He finally settled on a pack of Red Vines and grabbed a blue raspberry slushie. If he was going to get axe murdered by some guy that kept a stuffed bear named Barnaby in his car, he was going to do so with a blue tongue.

He handed over the 20-dollar bill to the cashier and then gathered up the snacks and drinks to take them to the car.

He caught Patton with his phone in his hands while he was pumping gas. “Hey, what are you doing?” Virgil asked.

“Just sending a text to my brother so he doesn’t worry too much,” Patton replied quickly. Virgil gave him a suspicious look. When it became clear that Virgil wasn’t going to willingly take a step closer to the car after that, Patton sighed and held out his phone. “You can see,” he said.

Virgil set the drinks and snacks down on the hood of the car and took the phone. The phone indeed was open to just a string of emojis sent to someone called “Lo-Lo” in Patton’s phone. The string of emojis read (insert emoji string)

“There is… no way he’d understand that,” Virgil said. “I barely understand it and I lived it.” He paused. “I am not a baby.”

Patton snatched the phone back. “I didn’t say you were.”

“You typed ‘knife baby’ in emoji!” Virgil said.

“Baby with a knife actually,” Patton said unrepentant. He grabbed his coffee and donut off the hood of the car and opened the driver’s door to put the drink in the cup holder and the donut on the seat. Then, he went to finish up pumping the gas.

#study break stories #virgil sanders #platonic moxiety #patton sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #creativitwins #emile picani #remy sanders #logan sanders #kidnapping #murder mentioned #guns

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roleplaysinner · 6 years

Text

Primal urges

Rohan was going through the remarks which the professor had logged against his last project. Despite his best efforts, he was not being able to make an impression. His mentor, Professor Diptesh Godbole was very strict when it came to evaluating his students. All of professor's past students were now reputed practitioners in India, and that was the very reason why Rohan had initially wanted to seek his guidance for his own academic progression.

Rohan Basu was 22 years old and was a second year student of Applied Psychology. He was 6 ft tall and possessed a fit and athletic body. He was the only son of his parents, and used to live with his mother Riddhima after the divorce of his parents. His mother had wanted him to pursue the medical profession and be a doctor, but he had a penchant for studying human behavior. So he had taken up the field of psychology in his academics, after overcoming some initial resistance from his mother. The psychology department in the university he studied was a pretty renowned one with a number of accomplished professors. Professor Diptesh Godbole, who headed the department, was the most famous psychologist, with patients from almost every corner in the country.

There was also another reason why Rohan had chosen Professor Diptesh Godbole as his mentor. It was because Dr. Godbole specialized in the field of sexual psychology and his patients mainly consisted of the ones who approached him for counseling related to their sexual problems. When Rohan had first come to know about Dr. Godbole's area of specialization, he did not have to think twice about working under the senior doctor's supervision. The field of sexual psychology appealed to Rohan most because of his own personal attributes. He was a satyriasist - a term which he had come to know as part of his studies. Some medical studies term it as a hormonal dysfunction, others consider it as an aggressive form of hormonal secretion which impacts the functioning of the mind.

He knew it was his condition when he had read about it. He had all the symptoms - excessive sexual desire being the primary symptom. But what was different for his case was that it was just not a state of his mind or brain, but he had the physical condition to go with it. He had an overdeveloped male genital organ, which was way above normal for an average young man of his society and culture, both in terms of length and girth. And his male genital facade was backed up by a tireless set of testicles, which always kept him on the edge of sexual overdrive.

He had a girlfriend a couple of years back. But that relationship did not sustain, just after one session in a shady hotel room which he had booked after a lot of difficulty. The girl had threatened to go to the police if he ever tried to approach her again, which he never did thereafter. He did not know what kind of rumor his former girlfriend had spread about him, but every girl in his college and many of the boys too used to avoid him since then. He had come to terms now of being a loner. He did thereafter make a visit to the red light area of the city once, but was disappointed with the outcome, and had never ventured for the same since. So he was left with trying to take care of his condition by himself, with no one to confide in about it. There have been nights where he had masturbated dozens of times, and had been driven to a state of sexual frenzy. Lately it seemed that his erection and state of extreme arousal refused to subside even after multiple orgasms. His own condition scared him, and he was unsure if it was going to turn him crazy at some point of time. He had read that there were some medical treatments available for such condition, but he was too embarrassed to discuss about it with anyone, let alone a physician who would be a stranger to him. So for now he kept the secret about his condition with himself and tried to take best care of it on his own.

Rohan kept his project documents in the drawer and left his seat. He had to talk to the professor. It was getting more and more difficult for him to continue in the state he was in. He had to talk freely to his mentor and seek his guidance on how to progress.

He was relieved to see that the door to the Professor's cabin was unlocked. He knocked on the door, only to hear the familiar "Come in" in the professor's voice. He walked into the room. Professor Godbole was reading something in his laptop with intent, and occasionally grazing through some lines in a fat book kept alongside on the table.

Rohan took a chair and sat in front of his table. The elderly professor hardly seemed to notice him, so engrossed was he in whatever he was going through. Rohan was aware of the professor's eccentricities and therefore decided not to disturb him till the time he finished the work at hand. It took almost ten minutes for the professor to cast his attention upon Rohan. He looked at Rohan through the gap between his thick spectacles and eyebrows and asked - "Oh, It is you! So did you go through my report?"

Rohan cleared his throat and said "Yes Sir, and I want to discuss with you about it."

The professor adjusted the tilt of his chair and then leaned back against it and said - "Go on, I am listening."

"I am trying my best Sir, but somehow I see that you are not happy with my work despite my best efforts. I do not know what to do or how to progress from here."

Professor Godbole took a cigarette out of the packet and fumbled with the lighter...."I think your problem is that you think that you are trying to put in a lot of effort....but what is missing is your heart....you are not approaching any of these cases with your heart.....something is missing there."

Rohan thought for a moment....then said...."I..I am not sure....after all these case are of the same pattern....involving men who are depressed due to sexual frustration....and mostly the reasons are the same....with some minor variance in each case."

Professor Godbole finally lighted his cigarette and let out a puff of smoke in the air...."You are still learning my boy....Yes, I know these are simple cases....would feel like monotonous sometimes...but you still have some way to go before handling complex cases"

"I promise you Sir...if you give me one chance....I will not disappoint you....I just need one break....please!"....suddenly Rohan was pleading with his mentor....though he knew that the professor was not someone to change his decision easily.

Professor Godbole thought for a few seconds....then suddenly he thought of something and reached for the file which was placed towards his left on the table....he flipped through a few pages in the file and then looked at Rohan..

"You know me....I am someone who is pretty clinical in the teaching methodology....but I will make an exception this time....because I know you are one student who has lots of potential....and I will see what you come up with if I indeed put you on an interesting and complex case."....Professor Godbole said....and then he crossed the fingers of his both hands in front of him....and continued..."This is about a woman named Jamini Kundu....she is very particular about the confidentiality of her case.....and so you need to keep that in mind....she is around 43 years old....separated from her husband....has led a pretty sedate sexual life throughout....it seems that her husband was not that adventurous in the bed....and she never complained...as long as they were together."

Rohan was listening intently...."So what has been her problem?"

"It seems that her sexuality had been dormant till now...she had never really realized that a volcano had been dormant within her....all her life....it seems that volcano has started to erupt recently....which is pretty strange...since she is past 40....though from experience I know that a few women reach their sexual crescendo around this age....but I have never heard of a change as extreme as this....it seems that she has transformed from a normal woman with an average sexual appetite to a desperate nymphomaniac within a few month's time......with a constant craving for sex....which peaks during late night hours....when she really struggles to cope with the urges of her body and mind...she just cannot have enough of it."

"Did she try any means of satiating her urges?"....Rohan asked thoughtfully..

"Seems that she did....initially....because of her social status she could take any external help to satiate her cravings....being separated from her ex-husband also did not help in her case....so she tried whatever she could on her own....it seemed to work initially....at least kept her urges under control....but lately her cravings have reached such a stage that she cannot control it any more....she is also getting even more depressed each time she is trying to take care of her own needs....she thinks that she craves for the right man....but she is afraid that her sexual appetite and hunger will be way too much for any normal guy to handle....and anyway she cannot be adventurous because of her status."

"Seems to be an interesting case!"....Rohan quipped....

"Yes it is. She has conveyed a lot more about her desires to me during private counseling....I will not share all the information with you.....you can get that first hand from her....but I am sure of one fact.....that this woman needs help....and I would have tried to help her with more counseling myself.....but I will not be in the city after today....so I would introduce you to her....you can talk to her....understand her case....and share the reports with me....Going forward I will share my advise with you as to how her counseling needs to proceed....but please be careful....she is in a pretty vulnerable mental state as of now due to the concerns about her own hypersexuality....she is embarrassed....and severely depressed....and her case needs to handled extremely sensitively."

Rohan was listening intently....he was glad that finally his mentor was entrusting him with a complex case....but along with that he suddenly felt aware of something else....of his massive member trying to raise its head up.....he had suddenly got aroused hearing about the case of this woman....it seemed so similar to his own condition....with the only difference that she has approached for professional help....which he has never dared to....

He had always dreamed of having a partner who would be his match in terms of sexual appetite....but he knew that his condition was extremely rare....and it was almost impossible to find a female who could match his own monstrous urges....

And now upon hearing about this woman from the professor, it seemed that she had the sexual disorder which was the exact feminine version of her own type. The professor was not aware of his condition. But his mind and body was already getting aroused after hearing about the description of this woman. Though he knew well that he will have to stay within professional limits while interacting with her. And also this woman was almost twice her age, though that somehow appealed to his testosterone even more.

He thought that may be while treating her case he will learn a few things that will help him manage his own condition.....if not he may himself end up in a state like hers going forward...in a state of mental depression....

He left the professor's chamber in an elated state of mind....Professor Godbole wanted him to meet the patient in an hour's time.....as she would be visiting him today for her second consultation...

Rohan took care of a few errands and got back to the institute at the exact time....he had a spring in his step now and was full of energy and positive intent as he entered his mentor's chamber....

"Come Rohan....meet Mrs Kundu....I have been telling her about you.....and she has agreed to let you handle her case as a mediator over the next few days....while I am out of town."

As Rohan approached towards the spot where the professor and the lady were seated, he could see her from her back. She was wearing a blue silk saree, with her hair woven into a bun. She was fairly tall, though he could not gauge her height correctly as she was seated. The only part of her skin exposed was her neck and shoulders, above the cut of her blouse, and he could see that she was pretty fair. His eyes inadvertently went towards the backside of her blouse where the countours of her bra straps were faintly visible for the curious eyes, and he immediately felt a surge of blood to his massive member contained within his underwear. He stopped for a second in his tracks, to regain his composure, and looked down to ensure that the bulge in his pant was not obscenely evident. Luckily, since his T -shirt was not tucked in, it was not.

As he looked up, he could have had a heart attack right there from the shock he received.

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smallblanketfort · 6 years

Note

Do you feel like your relationship with bpd/coping with it changed over time? In what ways? What helped for you, what made it worse?

this is.... a really good question. i recently asked one of my best friends if they thought i was getting better, and they said that i coped better, or at least was getting better at removing it from a relationship. which i think is true. i think i’m much better at dealing with it.

quick answer: 1) self awareness helps. know how i feel. avoid what makes it worse. 2) self care is everything esp if it smells good 3) giving myself grace / stop demonizing myself 4) faith in something outside of myself 5) gym/yoga mat as safe space to practice living 6) friends 7) writing the narrative- honestly and hopefully.

also, did you know many people with bpd DO recover? i didn’t know this for a long time! but yeah, something like 75% of people won’t show symptoms after 7-12 years.

long answer:

i’ve been really trying to identify how i feel and exactly why. it helps me accept this moment as what it is: a feeling is a moment in time and will soon pass. i don’t necessarily believe it, but after so long of going through it, i am more able to hang tight till a bad thing passes, or to communicate that i might be going through xyz. this helps ppl know it’s not personal too.

also, i know what will make it worse. for example, if i experience great happiness, i will soon crash w the same intensity. so, i’ve stopped doing some things that make me super happy, like going to concerts. this sounds depressing, but it’s self care. one of the best things for me: realizing that i need to figure out what will trigger an extreme emotion- and then just stop it. be more gentle. tend to myself. i don’t owe anyone. just breathe.

self care in general. establishing calming routines is huge for me. things that smell good, like skincare and tea. in an environment that looks pleasing to me.

mostly? i try to stop demonizing myself. i have anxiety, especially in romantic relationships, that i am a toxic person, which prevents me from just being me and being loving, bc i’m scared to let them close enough to see the bpd trait i assume i have. (pro tip, if you have a bpd friend, don’t tell them they’re manipulative or something. they dont mean to be, at all. call out an action, but don’t generalize. it’s really harmful.)

my relationship with it changed most when i dove into faith and the gym. faith, bc it gives me something to trust that is outside of myself and humans. there’s a psalm over which i wrote “you understand me in all of my complexities, even when i cannot.” and that gives me such comfort. and like, i’m unalone even in my greatest loneliness. studying spirituality/mental awareness is saving me. gifted with thought. the gym.. it’s like a way to actually practice life; there i learn to persevere, even when it’s really hard, even when my brain says “you can’t do it,” but i can, if i focus. and that i will see progress if i keep pushing. it teaches me to give myself grace, to see my strength and to forgive my weaknesses and to find gratitude and joy for what i am capable of.

and my friends. always my friends. proving everything in me wrong, daily.

finally, i wrote a poetry chapbook. it tells a narrative from darkness to honest healing. it gives me hope. i flipped my own script.

this was such a good question, i’m so glad you answered and that i got to think through this. thank you so much. i hope this helps someone...

#bpd #borderline personality disorder #actually borderline #recovery #anon

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someinstant · 6 years

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What Spotify playlists do you recommend?

OH MY GOODNESS, WHERE TO START.

Well, Nonnie, since I don’t know what type of music you personally like, I will pretend that you have the same bizarre music tastes I do. And I’m... not very pop-y, and like roots Americana stuff, and lots of blues, and the Clash, and angry girls with guitars, and alt-country, and also old classic country, and enough indie rock from the early 2000s to open my own gastropub and brewery, and acoustic Cuban hip-hop, and 1980s New Wave, and basically everything that came out of David Bowie’s brain and mouth, and every note Etta James ever sang.

So! Spotify playlists you should maybe listen to, if you share my brain:

1. Southern Gothic

Okay, look, I grew up in Georgia, and-- even though neither of my parents were born here, and even though I don’t have a southern accent unless it’s useful (and let me tell y’all, it is sometimes so damn useful, because bein’ super sweet and southern in one’s delivery makes being a stone bitch EVEN MORE FUN), and even though I cannot stand grits OR sweet tea-- there is something about this place that just gets down into your marrow. Can’t explain it. There’s so much I hate about where I live, so many original sins and continuing transgressions, and so much ugliness. But. I dunno. I’ve read so much Flannery O’Connor and Faulkner and Rick Bragg and Cormac McCarthy and Melissa Fay Greene that it’s just part of the fabric? Like, you’ve got to be able to take the bitter with the sweet. And there’s a hell of a lot of both down here.

Anyways.

This playlist sounds like how the late, gasping summer feels: so thick and humid you can feel it slipping down your throat when you breathe, the persistent drone of cicadas singing in the rasp of guitar strings. And everyone loves a good ghost story, right? Just think about live oaks hung with Spanish moss, blood-soaked soil, good bourbon, and a Tennessee Williams play, and that’s what this playlist is. I love it so.

2. Roadtripping Across Americana

So the summer after I graduated high school, I went on a summer program with my university in which I spent two months camping out across the United States-- mostly out west-- studying anthropology, ecology, and geology. And we spent that summer hiking with rock hammers attached to our backpacks, trying not to get on each other’s nerves on fifteen hour drive days, listening to Bob Marley at the campsite while on KP duty, learning to take kickass long-exposure photographs, avoiding coyotes at four in the morning in New Mexico, and forming an impromptu bluegrass band (we had a fiddle player, a guitarist, and a banjo, and a number of us were willing to give Gillian Welch’s oeuvre a go on vocals). This playlist sounds like every day of that summer to me.

Although it perhaps needs more “No Woman, No Cry” to be truly accurate.

3. ‘90s Pop Rock Essentials

Shut up, it makes me happy. Basically, this is the entirety of my high school career in playlist form, and I can sing pretty much every damn song on this list from start to finish. It might be slightly embarrassing, but I think I own at least one CD by (counts) at least twenty of the artists on this list? Damn. I still own them, too, even though I no longer have a CD player anywhere other than my car.

Oh, man, I forgot Marcy’s Playground was on this. Welp. Guess I’m listening to “Sex and Candy” now, huh.

The other bonus to this playlist is that I can play it in the classroom, and (a) mostly my students don’t complain, and (b) I know the music well enough to know if I’m going to need to skip something for language or whatever.

4. The Black Power Mixtape, 1967-1975

Um, this fucking blows my socks off every time I listen to it. It’s full of this deep, groovy, soulful funk-- Al Green and Stevie Wonder and Smokey Robinson, Marvin Gaye, James Brown, Otis Redding, Gladys Knight-- I mean, it’s just KILLER. I like to put it on when I’m cooking, or doing work that doesn’t require me to think too deeply, because I’m inevitably going to be singing along with this. Honestly, it makes me think about growing up and listening to the soundtrack to “The Big Chill” with my mom while cleaning. Motown and soul music and R&B make me think of the good kind of work, where you’re exhausted at the end of it, but everything’s better for it.

5. Feel Good Indie Rock

Look, my undergrad was in a little college town known for having a kickass music scene. This, therefore, meant that we were all kinda expected to have the sort of Musical Opinions that are appropriate to devotees of “High Fidelity,” and to have a vinyl collection before it was super hipster to be into vinyl. Like, I legit used to go to my favorite record store (I HAD A FAVORITE RECORD STORE, WHAT THE HELL, ALSO PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS INDICATES THAT THERE WERE MULTIPLE RECORD STORES IN A TINY COLLEGE TOWN AND THEY DID GOOD BUSINESS) between classes and flip through the new EPs and judge the cover art. One wall of the living room in my first ever apartment was covered in LPs and album covers my roommate and I bought at a flea market, because it looked super cool and was a cheap way to cover the shitty paint job. I read endless music blogs. I had a dedicated tag on my personal blog wherein I reviewed new music. I read alt-weeklies and had go-to music reviewers who I trusted enough to buy concert tickets to a band without having ever heard them, on the strength of a review. I was THAT PERSON.

I still AM that person, a little. And sometimes it’s good for me to remember that, beyond the drawer full of concert ticket stubs and the tattoo on my back. So, yeah: indie rock. I have opinions about the Elephant 6 Collective and of Montreal; hit me up about it.

And... there are a bunch of other ones? I’ll be honest, I mostly listen to playlists I make myself, and I’ve got a shit ton of those. I’d link to them here, but they’re attached to my personal account which has my real name on it, so. Maybe if I transfer the playlists over to the account I made for the Scott Moir vs. Himself playlist, I’ll link them over here.

The ones I made myself that I listen to a lot are called things like, “This Playlist Kills Fascists,” (which is obvs deeply political and is what I play when I’m having another What The Hell Did My Fucking Idiot of a President Do NOW day), “Don’t Panic,” (which is basically full of music I personally find makes me smile 100% of the time), and “This is Water” (which is a graduation playlist I made for my seniors last year, and is still pretty kickass).

Anyway, I hope that’s enough music to get you started, Nonnie!

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ybyg · 3 years

Text

Here’s my second Nihongo check-in!

Preface: Very pessimistic, I’m whining and shitting on grammar. Can’t be helped.

If you’re reading it, please don’t let it deter you from learning something new, like musical instruments and languages. Getting over hurdles will grant you gratification, and don’t be like me, wishing for instantaneous results. I’m an idiot, so be the opposite of me. Please remember that practice makes perfect.

About 9 days ago, I wrote about how I focused on kanji (that’s the Chinese characters used in Japanese for the uninitiated) through WaniKani and paying less attention to grammar and absolutely skipped thorough memorisation through other SRS, like Anki and my own notes.

This shouldn’t come as a surprise anymore, I did just about 3 hours of Japanese grammar since then.

Anyway, I’ve levelled up on Wanikani, and the last 2 levels have been the fastest I’ve levelled up, which makes me shake in my boots. Like. How. I felt like I’ve been making slow progress as things get harder, but apparently not?

My progress for each level so far:

As you can see, for level 4, it took me significantly less time to learn and level up. It’s not ideal to finish my kanji/vocabulary reviews with 10 lessons to spare (mostly vocab stuff) and when I click Home, and it suddenly shows I have close to 100 lessons because I’ve unlocked the next level.

This has happened twice. I had a heart attack.

Right now, I’ve learned 15/21 radicals (they’re a breakdown of each kanji) for level 6 which I surprisingly unlocked yesterday evening, and I have 48 lessons to go (the remaining radicals, new kanjis, and new vocab, I presume). I wanted to try my best to maintain a healthy 10-20 lessons per day, and at this rate, that’s not happening. I’m cramming kanji left and right, and this is how I start to not prioritise Anki, my notes and grammar.

I made my calculation (heh) based on this graph and for me to finish all 60 levels of WaniKani. Appaently it’ll take me 3 years to learn over 1.7k kanjis and 5k words. And that doesn’t account for when I have a job (it’ll slow down my progress). I’ll be 28 by then. And I want to have a working knowledge of the language by 30. Will it be possible? Dun dun dun.

I’ve also started to unlock ‘Enlighten’ for over 80 items I’ve learned (mostly from levels 1 & 2), and this has made me go back to those levels for a refresher. Just making sure they’re sticking in my brain until I unlock ‘Burn’ for these. (Burn here means you’ve passed it, and according to WaniKani, basically by the time you burn the items, they’re supposed to already be a part of you and you’re able to recall the kanji and words you’ve learned in no time).

Okay. Way too long for WaniKani. I swear I’m not being sponsored by them lmao. I guess it’s time to start complaining about grammar.

Sooooooo. This sucks. I hate grammar. It’s maths for languages where, upon explaining it, people think they’re making sense, but the longer the explanation is, the less sense it makes; so you’ll have to re-read the line a few hundred times before it starts to make some sense. And I just fucking despise maths.

I know it’s important, and especially when you’re learning a language, it’ll help you form your ideas correctly and succinctly. But what sucks about learning grammar is that when you finally have a grasp the idea and move on to another topic, everything you knew about the former just... disintegrates. There are way more rules to follow. It’s the start of ‘studying’, not ‘learning’. That’s just how daunting I find learning grammar.

In my experience, grammar has reduced my confidence, and I’m already a pessimist, so it bodes well /s. Unless someone is understanding, and even how long it took you to learn a language, people would make you think you’re lesser than (ohhh I’d know); and if your brain is an asshole and a half like mine, it’s not people, it’s just you. This is why I go to therapy.

Sorry. I went off-tangent there. Haven’t seen my therapist in 2 months because of Covid.

As I’m typing this, I’m flipping through my old notes from uni about verb and tenses. English tenses gave me a hard time, and Japanese tenses are at least twice harder than that.

Disclaimer: The following bit is what they call ‘conjugation’ (I think), and in no way I claim these to be correct, and I’m not explaining it until I know for sure what each of the function is for, so take these with a fistful of salt. Seriously. I remember writing these down, but it’s been 4-5 years since uni, I don’t remember anything about this, however the pain in my chest is telling me otherwise.

For example for verb to-do ending in します (shimasu, drop the u at the end when pronouncing it, so it becomes shimas), and the word I’ve chosen is 食べます (たべます, to eat, in its polite form):

1. Present positive: 食べます　(たべます) - I suppose this means ‘I eat/am eating’?

2. Past positive: 食べました　(たべました) - This... ‘I ate’?

3. Present negative: 食べません（たべません）- ‘I’m not eating’?

4. Past negative: 食べませんでした（たべませんでした）- I dunno. ‘I didn’t eat’?

There’s also keiyoushi (adjectives), and in my notes they’re divided into two parts - the いーけいようし (i-adjective, words ending with the ‘ee’ sound) and なーけいようし (the ‘every other adjective’ adjective), and for no apparent reason, some of the ee-ending words just fall under na-adjective. WHY!

These i- and na-adjectives start with です as the present positive. Yeah, that’s easy. As soon as past positive gets into the picture, it fucks you over.

i-adjective example I’ve chosen is 可愛い（かわいい, cute):

1. Present positive: 可愛いです（かわいいです)

2. Past positive: 可愛かったです（かわいかったです - the second い in kawaii is replaced by かったです

3. Present negative:　可愛くないです（かわいくないです）- just like the past positive, the second い in kawaii is replaced by, this time, くないです

4. Past negative: 可愛くなかったです（かわいくなかったです) - just like the other two, the second い is replaced by くなかったです

Do I want to do one for the na-adjective? No. I’m tired.

This is why I just wish I was either a genius or a person who doesn’t ask inane questions like ‘Why the fuck must it be this way?’

On a more positive note, my favourite word right now is マジで (maji de, spelt in katakana, and using hiragana for で). It means ‘seriously’, but after some checking, it also means ‘for real’ and ‘literally’. For instance: ‘たっくんはめっちゃかっこいいね。。。’ (Takkun is really handsome/cool, yeah?) and you reply it with ‘マジで？’ if you wanna sound sarcastic. (But no, Takkun is metcya kakkoii okay) Other than that, you can say ‘マジで？？？？？？？’ if you’re, for lack of a better word, shook.

Yes, I love my slangs and buzzwords...

Another thing, in Japanese, they don’t really use exclamation marks and question marks, at least formally anyway. You can scream on top of your lungs through text, but you’ll just use ‘maru’ 。which is their full stop。Maru quite literally means circle. But informally, you can use exclamation and question marks. By all means. Go to town with it.

#qila learns nihongo #edited this #but still so many mistakes i missed #i just couldnt give a fuck rn

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