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#a 12 member family. i am imagining how i will draw that in one picture and i would need to rest my hand on that
belleillumina · 2 years
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This post from @morgott-thegracegiven has been on my phone for so long. Almost as long as I've been trying not to draw the polycule ideas I have. The idea then grew to a whole "Large Family" AU so the kids must be added.
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benditozorrito · 9 months
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15 Questions 15 Mutuals
Tagged by @Kf-tea
1. Are you named after anyone?
In terms of my deadname yes- I was named after my mother, and it was (as often is for spanish families) in combination with my middle name, which is after my grandmother.
My current name isn't after a family member, but has a symbolic relation to my deadname.
2. When was the last time you cried?
Maybe a month ago because I was worried I hurt my girlfriend's feelings :'D
3. Do you have kids?
Nope. I like kids, but no desire to have my own.
4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?
I think I used to be more so. These days it tends to come out only in two ways: if I am currently with someone I know very well and who knows I am not being mean-spirited, or if I am with a stranger and they are being an ass lol.
5. What sports do you play/have played?
I was a very active kid and would do all the sports! Though my favorites were soccer, and martial arts, tae kwon do and shinkendo. I have been meaning to get back into martial arts when I have more time.
6. Whats the first thing you notice about people?
I think its a tie between the persons overall face shape/facial features and their voice.
7. What's your eye colour?
Brown lol deep brown but still light enough that its not hard to see my pupils. Unless under a black light apparently lmao
8. Scary movies or happy endings?
Not sure why these are mutually exclusive? But happy endings regardless of genre lol
9. Any special talents?
Art things mostly. I'm especially skilled at drawing figures and some animals. I'm a decent singer although that is completely untrained lol
I also have a strange talent for making puns completely unintentionally so they come out very sincerely and then 5 seconds later I laugh at it
10. Where were you born?
Arizona
11. What are your hobbies?
Drawing extremely self indulgent art, curating playlists for OCs-both for drawing noise and to imagine cool amvs in my head about them, singing and playing guitar, playing video games and occasionally blogging about them, watching old animes and reading old mangas
12. Do you have pets?
One fluffball tortie named Pumpkin who I really ought to post more pictures of. There are plans for a kitten-puppy duo soon though now that we live in a house lol
13. How tall are you?
I'm just going to say about 5' since I have apparently already begun shrinking LOL;;
14. Favorite subject in school?
Aside from art, I have always loved history-particularly the period from about the 1100s to the 1700s, Music, and P.E.
15. Dream job?
I mean I want to just make web comics, play music, sing, and maybe make some video game lets plays
But since capitalism is a thing I'm aiming for a day-job of catalogging video game archives lol
I have little awareness of who are my mutuals so I am just going to tag 15 people with the help of my activity feed lmao;;;
@draegaa @olcanartcorner @preludeinz @yuki-bushido @thethirdamell @an-apocalypse-of-magpies @jonnothyvase @heirrogance @thesecondbeth @bunchabears @mcfishayy-blog @phyi @goodluxray @galvanismgal @kohibean
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rumblelibrary · 3 years
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The Diary of Doctor Laszlo Kreizler
Chapter 1
Synopsis: Alienist’s notes are private, sometimes gruesome, secrets of others and of himself.Those pages belongs to secrecy and decadence, have a glimpse to this world made of drafts, notes, accidents and reflections. Or maybe it is you the only person that should ever reach for it.
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While you read this imagine Laszlo mostly at the end of his day, scraping the ideas and the thoughts, adjusting previous notes with additions, closing the day behind himself with a couple of sentences while sitting in his evening robe, a good glass of whiskey and his glasses bridged almost at the tip of his nose. Or maybe imagine yourself, you sneaky thing, reach for it from a far shelf.
Word count: 3k
Warnings: listen, this is the set of ideas and confessions of a man living in the 1890’s. Most of them will be outdated, rough, even deprecating in some analysis of the roles of men, women and social status, religion, etc.So be prepared, my point is to make Laszlo reflect upon those topics, but to be as faithful as I can to his time. Mention of death, mutilation, self harm and a minor depiction of a fight. Psychologically troubled young children ahead! Author’s note: I am a nerd for a good Victorian novel and a sexy Alienist.I have always been charmed by Laszlo’s mind and inner conflicts. So I took the chance and tried to have a run into that rollercoaster.  The story is placed between season 1 and season 2.
Diary belonging to Dr. Laszlo Kreizler.  This is a professional book of annotations over medical treatments of an alienist toward his patients. Do not disclose and send it back to the address if found: Kreizler’s Institute, xxxxxx, New York City (NY) L.K.
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Samuel Griswold Goodrich, Illustrated Natural History of the Animal Kingdom (c1859). Contributed for digitization by University Library, University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign.
Schiller in his “Die Weltweisen” wrote: So long as philosophy keeps together the structure of the Universe so long does it maintain the world’s machinery by hunger and love. From the philosopher point of view sexual life takes a subordinate position in human’s life, from recent studies pushed by European philosophers, everything is about sexuality and its development. I like to think of the experience of being an alienist as the process of Queen Penelope that, while waiting for her husband Ulysses return, undoes her craftwork every night. I undo the fabulous constructs of people’s beliefs to go back to the rough sketch that stands at the beginning of their loss, their complex, their pain. Maybe that’s why working with children is so motivating and fascinating. They can be saved and yet, I am well aware, some of those sketches already traced in their young lives equal to scars that not even the most advanced theories could cure. But I can sooth them. I can prevent them the torment, the anguish, the recollection at night of those monsters. I feel like a poet would be a better alienist than a philosopher, but I have got no poetry nor philosophy in my veins, but the cold experience of the razor blade judgment of Life itself.
Today I observed a fight among the children at the Institute. Age range between 10 and 12. Boys. The fight was over the possession of a side of the playground, the territory of a pack  of youngsters formed under the name of Steven. Peculiar lad, coming from a military background finds comfort in replicating the schemes he lived in his family. He takes the role of the Father/Captain of the team and subjects children that come from a similar background story, but do not posses his same attitude to the command. All quiet on the front, until the space he declared is own spot got affected by the presence of others.  Intruders. I knowingly let the events unfold to see how Steven would react to his challenged authority. His reaction was, at first, worded, a sketch, a stage-play of an action he witnessed over and over, and he knew the part so well that some of the contending kids lowered their stance against him. Among considering to mildly intervene into this pyramid scheme of authority, another boy, Jan, calls himself on the role of the educator and hero of the masses and proceeds to unfold a wild and well assessed punch on the newly declared dictator face. Balance is established again. No need for me to arbitrate, once more the laws of nature seem to apply to children as in a state of nature.
Meet John Moore over lunch. His job at the newspaper is picking up, he is charmed by the spirits and the wits that he finds in his shared office with all the other writers. He mentions many, goes on and on over qualities and troubles, gossips and tendencies, and even little scandals here and there. To be aware of all those details gives me no interest, but to see a dear friend so invested clearly gives me something to pick up. To consider also the amount of details and the way he describes this or that member of the journal, I can do a small exercise of analysis. It is almost too easy because John is painfully genuine, even some of the kids at the institute would beat him hands down in a battle of lies. The more he likes somebody, the more he goes on about all the details and the characteristics, often letting aside the physical appearance. When he doesn’t like somebody he has a couple of adjectives for the wits and around four or five for the physical aspects that usually indulge on some repulsive idiosyncrasies.  John is a man that painfully fits in the storyline of The Picture of Dorian Gray: to him physical beauty is spiritual beauty and, of course, the other way around. This part of him surely intrigues me, makes me want to tease more from him. But, as a friend, it concerns me as John is way too prone to purposelessly decide that somebody with good eyes is also a good human being, which is a very romantic and admirably naive way of judging matters. I noticed some names that keep repeating in his narration. I dread that it is synonymous of a soon encounter from my side with the objects of his admiration. Fetiches, I dare to say, that I will have to annihilate before they sediment into his mind, perpetuating a narration that soon sees John being mislead by others.
Reserved: Tickets for the Eroica, Symphony n. 3 by Ludwig van Beethoven. Thursday evening.
Note on the show: the first movement lacked the pathos needed to begin with, I am not sure that the guest orchestra really managed to portray the wider emotional ground needed to withstand the whole representation. As the evening progressed there were some outstanding performances by the cellists. Still not approving the choice of reprising the early quick finale movement against the lengthy set of variations and fugue that we are used to in presence of the Eroica. Underwhelming the performance of the horn and oboe, vital in the comprehension of the genius of Beethoven. 
Niki is a new addition of the Institute, quite old for the standards. He is already 16, he will leave when summer ends to some expensive college his family meant him to stay. His parents expect me to make him “normal” in the time we are allowed together.  He is Austrian and I let him act it out like I don’t understand German for the first week of hist stay until today. I believe I hit his pride, which is good, in the moment I answered back to one of his sneaky comments. Now he knows. He is not safe from me, he doesn’t like it. The young man has a tendency to danger, risky tasks and edgy situations. In his mother’s own words “Niki is not afraid of anything”. The phrase didn’t raise any excitement in the father, rather some sort of painful acceptance that is role as the alpha male of the house is probably not only being challenged, but  already diminished, if not abolished. I have taken in consideration that Niki will break himself a bone or two in the process of the therapy, probably out of the spite of boredom or rebellion. It took him less than few days to turn himself into an outcast among the outcasts, which only drives me closer to analyse the complexity of his narcissistic wall of self defence. I gave him a physical challenge to lift a certain weight, he is a pretty skinny one, he didn’t like the challenge, but I am sure he will take it. He is a brainy guy, he hates to be questioned on unfamiliar ground. He won’t sleep at night thinking about it.  A challenge, in this first phase, can only bring me closer to the ease of his pains. To continue the observation.
It is a sad privilege of medicine, in particular the one I practice, to be able to witness the weaknesses of the human nature and the reverse side of life. Nevertheless, I oblige this same privilege of the study as life moves into shades of darkness. To be aware of it gives more solace to my soul than to be victim of patiently waiting for the inevitable unfolding of the events. To be able to understand more about psychology would bring more comfort and elevation to any human being, the times might not be there yet, but eventually something will move into the direction of a more wholesome approach.
Dinner meeting with Sara Howard, at the restaurant Jardin Des Cygnes, 7 pm sharp.  Do not expect to reach the dessert. Do not know if John will be participating due to undeniable tension among the two and the fatal despise of John over French cuisine.
The case that Sara unfolded tonight to my ears feels more and more like pulled out from some gothic book or from the mind of a Roman historian that needed to justify the godly origins of an Emperor. One killing, apparently random, a very constructed iconography over the body. Signs and insults, shapes and drawings. Is this a work of art? Does the killer wants his victim to be his Mona Lisa? His David? I am charmed and destabilised. If this was a murder like any other, then why to spend so much time into it? Based on the description the act of killing itself was quick: a sharp cut over the throat, almost like not wanting to ruin too much the surface to use as base for, what? I keep rerunning those symbols over and over as Sara described them to me, my mind is flooded with the designs of greek philosophers that needed to explain themselves why the sky is above our head and never collapses on us. Hilarious how, no matter the science advancement, in the mind of many the sky stands inevitably overt their shoulders, suffocates them, brings them to a death of the soul and not of the body. Is all this graphic charade indeed only a form to scream for attention?  To stress the eyes of an unaware viewer? It seems ridiculously elaborate, a scream for attention would be quick, it would be like guided by instinct, not reasoning, craftwork. Any man with a knife can paint in blood red the walls of a room and that’s asking for attention. That is the primal howl: look at me! I am here! But this one.  I don’t know yet.
Spent the early morning reading anew my copy of The Metamorphosis by Ovid. Didn’t touch it in a long time and I got bedazzled by the world of terrible sensuality, anger and selfishness of those gods and mortals. I think back at all the deviances and weaknesses of human kind and I try to relate it to all of those humanoid figures. Niki would be a minotaur, the lonesome son left in the labyrinth and his strive for success is his bull’s head. Or maybe a centaur, because of his wits and strategic thinking. I might keep up the process, maybe this is the way to understand my patients better, to understand the killer better. Must remember not to romanticise it. Greek gods were probably the first form of self indulging of a society that needed gods to be forgiving and allowing favours and punishments, but only in exchange of sacrifices. But the sacrifice never comes from the God’s will, but from the will of the man that perpetuates the act of killing. To sacrifice someone or something is the sadistic response to a lack of love deeply inherited in human mind that becomes neurotic. Is the killer giving the God of his own neurosis a body to feast upon? 
I talked with Jan this morning. The young boy is about 10, but he acts like a full grown adult. I could easily asses that’s the reason why he could challenge Steven in that fight. Two children mimicking adults situations they know too well. Jan is son of an industrial man, but he is also son of the dialectics of the industrial revolution. He sounds like he swallowed some of those books about working class rights and communism, probably pushed by a resentful surrounding (mother?uncle? the midwife?) over the social role of his father. As much as incredibly smart and lectured, Jan lost most of his early occasions in life by spending a considerable amount of time using his fists. The anger ever present in the young boy always surprises me, he seems to be holding a power, a strength of a full grown man in those tiny arms. Nevertheless, he is already the tallest of the group. He is surely an idealist, which makes him also tragically fragile. His strength mixed with his heart of gold can make him the best of the heroes or the worst of the villains. He apologised for the fight, he specified how he didn’t like the sound of Steven’s voice, more than the sound, the level of pitch.  I can’t stand somebody shouting orders, I just don’t listen anymore. He is so mature even about his own feelings, almost a gentleman in his chivalry toward the weaker children, honest with his open heart and resentful against any form of injustice.  I am not spared by his ways, he would come at me whenever he feels like I was being partial over some of the kids, his sense of justice blinds him and transform a perfectly balanced boy into a ranging animal.
Ordered book, to be delivered around tomorrow evening: Introduction à la méthode de Léonard de Vinci by Paul Valéry. Suddenly feeling myself as a gross ignorant in art themes. I always regarded myself aware of the artistic personalities and tendencies of present and past, but this new amount of perceptions over the human figure and the human body leads me to document myself more. I could ask John for advice, but he wouldn’t take things at matter that seriously. I can almost hear him say how I can make gruesome a pleasant topic such as art. I should probably wait to see the body to push any further aesthetic study, but I find myself not being able to stop. I reckon, I can allow myself a vice or two.
Today I saw the body of the killed man, courtesy of the Isaacson's. To be fair, I had underestimated it. In Sara’s descriptions, probably due to her more analytic mind, all the charm of the representation got lost in favour of a less cryptic and reasonable understanding of the act. Sara got what some alienists will call a masculine mind, which I don’t perfectly agree on. If I apply that same approach John would be a very feminine mind, all wrapped up in romanticising even the ugliest. I guess that dividing the world in “fragile and gentle” and “strong and powerful” is just easier to explain the fluctuation of something that doesn’t need a real name or a category like human inclinations on thoughts.  I got a feverish sense of patience by looking at the body. Each symbol traced with sapient slowness, dense of the time that the killer spent with the body. That is a work of hours, he had time and meaning. He had resources and was able to spend not less than the time he needed to reach, a vision? An ideal? A message? Is it the message meant to be understood? Am I supposed to unravel it or it is maybe just the way the killer communicates within himself? And if I do decifrate the code, will that bring me closer to him? Or to his next victim?
Reminder: ask John to replicate all the symbols on the bodies in the correct measure and order. It might be needed some hard convincing. Addition: scheduled meeting, his house, 3 pm.
It wasn’t a day like any other when I met you. Or maybe it was, and that’s why I got so struck by it and now I am here playing it over and over through what my memory clung on so desperately. In my own experience, life was often similar to swimming in a lake. Those rich, dense lakes in the north of (illegible cancelled word) were my father used to bring us during summer. I still feel the pull, the draw down toward the abyss. It ashamed me, in a way, the fear that such a simple feeling aroused in my young mind, unaware nevertheless, that such a feeling would follow me through all my existence. It was a prophecy and, like most of the prophecies, was a riddle. I cradle in my heart the charm of those days, the mindless happiness. The foolish feeling of freedom. Little I knew that freedom would be taken away from me that soon, that the body that used to navigate me over the dense waters, helping me to fight the haul toward the unknown, would become my own cage. That day. Today. The day where I met you, the day I was afloat.  The child gasping for air felt the wrench become a gentle push and now he is floating on his back over the scary waters of reality and malice. It gave me relief and it gave me terror, because since that very moment I knew that I would never be able to move on from the sight of you. From the feeling of your eyes lingering on me. From the smile you so easily shone upon me. From the whiff of imported perfume that hit me when you turned on side exploding that swan like neck. And nothing, not even my stern look, could dim that wave of hope that your sole presence washed over me. The abyss roars, calls me to a home of damnation and terror and curses my name and yet you repeated that hell-bound name of mine after me and I felt safe.
John told me so much about you, it feels like I have always known you.
The rope is gone from my neck, the guillotine won’t fall on me, I am spared, I am free.
I have read your latest article, I am thrilled to help with the case.
I am in disbelief.
Your voice.
Dr. Kreizler
How dare you? How dare you to come into my life, to appear, like a vision, mystical, in a way I despised at University when all those theology students talked about the divine. In this very moment I can’t recollect much of what you said, something about the case, about going with John at the obituary. It feels confusing, I feel overstimulated, my memory fails me, I am not sure anymore. I write these few lines and it is passed the hour of the witches and I wish, I demand, to never see you again, because life should never grant hope to a condemned man. 
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collecting-stories · 4 years
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Ten Years - JJ Maybank
Request: could u write something abt y/n and jj who have been together since they were like 12 and just make it super fluffy🥰
A/N: so there wasn’t really like, a full plot request so I just kinda went with this...hope you like it!
Outer Banks Masterlist
♡ ♡ ♡ ♡
JJ stood in the entrance to the dressing room, phone in hand as he texted back and forth with Pope and swiped through different online stores. He was shirtless, wearing a pair of actual trousers, a far cry from the cheap ones he used to wear when he bused tables at the island club. He was supposed to be trying on different suits but it’d taken you an hour just to get him into these pants, you couldn’t imagine how the rest of the shopping trip was going to go. 
“Matching sweatshirts?” JJ asked, holding his phone out to show you a picture of dorky matching sweatshirts that said ‘player 1’ and ‘player 2’ respectively.  
You fought the urge to roll your eyes as you rubbed a hand against your forehead and took a deep breath. You should have known that trying to shop would go south with JJ. “I love you so much but there is no way in hell I’m wearing matching sweatshirts with you.” 
“I can’t believe you’re not gonna wear matching sweatshirts with me.” JJ whined, pulling his phone away to send the picture to Pope. “I’m gonna get a new girlfriend who will.”   
“Ask Pope.”
“I am.” He replied, continuing to text.  
“Not right now JJ! You’re supposed to be getting a suit anyway, not standing around on your phone shopping for cheesy sweatshirts.” You sighed, finally standing up from the ottoman that was available for seating outside the dressing room. You tried to grab his phone from him but he slid away, socked feet gliding on the laminated floor. He backed further into the dressing area, toward the stall you’d ushered him into earlier.  
“What if you didn’t have to wear it out?” He asked, holding his phone out of reach when you tried to grab it again. As much as you enjoyed the sight of JJ in nothing but a pair of nice pants, and you did enjoy the sight quite a lot, he was starting to get on your last nerve. Especially when he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you against him, still holding the phone away with his other hand.  
“So what I’m just gonna walk around our house wearing a sweatshirt?” You asked. The little blue ranch house that you and JJ were renting on the cut was set back a little from the road but it wasn’t entirely void of neighbors. Not to mention the amount of times any of the pogues dropped in without warning. When you looked up at him you realized his eyes had glazed over, pupils dilated as he stared, completely unashamed, right down the front of your tank top. “JJ!”
“What...you in only a sweatshirt? Let’s skip all this and go straight to the honeymoon.” He suggested, grinning as he leaned in to kiss you.  
You let him, though you finally gave in to the eyeroll as he pulled away from you. It was like trying to corral a child into doing something. “Not exactly doing the big tent wedding here J. Now pick a suit.” 
“But if you don’t have to go out?” He whined, mind still on his stupid sweatshirt idea. You’d never matched clothes before and you’d heard him on more than one occasion mock couples who did, so why he was suddenly interested in the cheesy tradition was beyond you.  
“Oh my god, buy the sweatshirt, please.” You groaned, stepping completely away and heading back out of the dressing room, “but finish trying on suits first!”  
“Love you!” 
Your mom wanted a big wedding with all the people she was friends with invited as well as family members none of you had even seen in your lifetime but you had refused. It felt silly to do the big white wedding, silly and costly and not like you and JJ at all. The money saved for it had been spent on converting a VW bus that was a nicer version of the Twinkie, that he had parked out front of the house you’d been renting together since you turned nineteen.  
Still, even without the wedding, you wanted a semi-nice dress and him in a suit when the two of you went to City Hall at the end of the week to get married.  
Married. You were waiting for the word to make you feel different but so far it just felt normal. Like it was just supposed to happen.  
-
“Why are your eyes covered?” You laughed, walking into the living room to see JJ standing there in his suit with his hands covering his eyes. He’d obviously just been smoking before you came in because his juul was still in his hand too, trapped between his fingers.  
“I don’t wanna see you before the wedding!” He exclaimed.  
“You’re driving,” You laughed, grabbing at his hands. When you pulled them away he had his eyes shut. “JJ, open your eyes.” 
He opened one eye and then the other, slowing smiling as he took in the sight of you in the simple white dress, you’d picked out with Sarah a few weeks ago. It’d been sitting wrapped up in the closet so he couldn’t see it without you in it. “You look really beautiful.” He finally said, kissing you. “You’d look even more beautiful in matching sweatshirts.” JJ teased.  
“Oh my god JJ. I’m not wearing matching sweatshirts to get married.” You replied, taking the juul from him so you could put it away.  
“Then I guess the dress works.”
“Wow thanks.” You laughed.
Before you could walk away from him JJ grabbed your arm, drawing your attention back to him. “Hey, before we go-“
“We have like thirty minutes to get there.” You said, cutting him off. There was no way the two of you were going to make it in time.  
“It’ll be quick, promise.”
“What?” 
“I know we’re not doing vows but I didn’t exactly get any points for a romantic proposal either...considering. So I just wanted to say something before we leave, without everyone else around.”   
JJ’s ‘proposal’ had come about on a Tuesday morning. It wasn’t romantic, there wasn’t even a ring picked out yet. Instead JJ had been sitting on the other side of the island, trying to steal pieces of bacon off of Pope’s plate while he was in the bathroom, when you told him that your mom was giving you a hard time about the two of you living together.  
Your mom’s favorite words were ‘just a phase’ when she talked about you and JJ. It was just a phase that you were going through that had you attracted to someone she viewed as a ‘bad boy’ in every cliched sense of the term. Though you highly doubted at 22 that it was a phase. Especially when you’d spent the last ten years basically dating. Since the 6th grade winter formal when JJ asked you to dance with him.  
“She said ‘once you get out from under that roof you’ll see’ and I told her that I’m never moving. We’re gonna like get married and get a cat and have windchimes like Lana.” You had said, smacking JJ’s hand, “stop eating Pope’s food.”
“He abandoned it.” JJ pointed out.
“He’s in the bathroom, stop it.” You said, waving the spatula at him. “Anyway...she just...” you groaned, “I can’t stand when she does that like. We’re not in highschool anymore. Why can’t she drop the whole ‘this is temporary’ thing like...do you see these four walls? Not temporary.”
“Marry me?”
“What?” You froze, spatula in hand, staring at him in surprise.  
“Marry me.” He shrugged. “You said it yourself, this isn’t temporary. So, marry me.”
The wedding day, though it wasn’t really a wedding, had come quicker than the two of you had expected and now, if you weren’t out the door in five minutes, you knew that you’d be late. JJ was an erratic driver but nothing would get you to the other side of the island on time.  
“You’re gonna make me cry before we even get to the courthouse?” You asked, already feeling yourself get teared up. “That’s mean JJ.”
“I just want you to know,” He started to say, trying not to laugh when he realized you were starting to cry, “hey, come on...I didn’t even say anything yet.”
“I know, I know I just-” you looked up at the ceiling and blinked a few times, “oh god this mascara isn’t waterproof.”
“We’ll survive if your makeup doesn’t stay intact.” He promised.  
“JJ!” You laughed. “Okay fine, go, I won’t cry. I just...won’t look at you.”  
“You’re ridiculous.” 
“Just say the thing.” You insisted, waving your hand for him to go ahead.  
“When I asked you to marry me it was spur of the moment but it wasn’t just something I said because I thought it’d be fun or cute or whatever. We’ve been through...hell...together and I know how hard it's been and there isn’t any guarantee that it won’t be hard-”
“That sounds awesome,” you laughed but JJ could already hear the slight crack in your voice.  
“-shut up. You never let me finish anything.”  
“I do too!”
“You literally just interrupted me trying to be nice and tell you something romantic.”
“I’m sorry...go ahead.”
“No, the moment’s ruined.” JJ shrugged, grabbing his backpack off the table so that the two of you could leave.
You grabbed JJ’s hand, trying to pull him back toward the middle of the living room and away from the door, “no finish, tell me!”
“Fine, fine. You’re such a brat.” He laughed, “I was gonna say-”
The door opened and you groaned as Pope stuck his head in, “yo...guys, lets go.”  
“Hold on!” You whined and JJ wrapped his arms around you, holding you close and kissing your forehead.
“I’ll tell you later, while we’re in our matching sweatshirts.”
“Unbelieveable.”
-
taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife  @freckled-and-daydreaming  @chasefreakinstokes @millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27 @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox @belledutchess @poguelifeeee @faded-blue @parkerpetertingle @thebookwormlife @summer-clouds-and-long-days @jellyfishbeansontoast @minigranger @hoewkeye @love-someone-special @tiredfeels @strangerthanfanfiction713 @the-only-nana @tomzfrog @mozz-are-lla @vindictive-hearts @poguestyleskye @ssprayberrythings @jenahbell @beautyandthebleh @gothackedalready @teenwaywardasgardian @sarahcxmeron @haha-fuck-you-thot @stillbelieve398-5 @rewindlr @queenniccimicci @kissessforharryyy @thedarkqueenofavalon @alytavzla @bqmblebee @linniep @nerdypartytrashpsychic @xxchxrryxx @spencer-reid-is-a-cutie @mirjanak @danielladreaming @obx-saltlife @youngestxhearts @spnobsessedmemes @wowitswondergurl @celestialmaybank @mybnkjj @pineappleandcherries @mysterious-adventurer @justawilddreamerchild @rhyetaylor62 @calm-rejects @balletandyuzu @oh-annaa @aiifandomsunite @x-lulu @ceruleanjj  @wicked-laugh @obxwriterfan @allie-mcginn @pcterparxer @literarycharleton @khiaraaa-in-spacee @crushe-s @teamnick @daydreamlilys @collectiveuniverses @activist-af @mdgrdians @buckys-sunflower @vindictive-hearts @copper-boom @talksoprettyjjx @5am-cigarette @smiithys @dontjinx-it @outerbanksbro @mysticsthinking @heavenlymama  @rudy-pankow-needs-an-oscar @babymatilda @raekenliar @jolomez @timotaychalabae  @summerkaulitz 
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red-i-mean-blue · 4 years
Text
A:TLA romantic ships part 1
yes, no one asked for my opinions, yes I will give them anyway, yes because I have decided making a bunch of meaningless decisions and arguing for them will improve my mental state, yes I watched the show all in one very sleep deprived go and i’m not interested in rewatching it so yes I have absolutely no sources, yes this is a really long grammatical nightmare because I don’ t know how to be succinct and i use way more words than necessary at any opportunity because if my point doesn’ t come across exactly like i intend it will greatly upset me, no I have not yet watched Korra or read the comics because i’m tired now let’s do this.
includes Kataang, Zutara, Jetkara, Jinko, Maiko, Sukka, Taang, Tokka, Toko Ty Lokka, Tyzula, Yukka bc these were on the Avatar wiki ship list, part two will go into gay ships more
from 0 I despise people who ship this immediately to 10 I will read absolutely anything with this, I love it and could draw it for hours on how much I think the relationship would be good and how happy it makes me
Kataang (looks like a comic book sound effect so plus points)
very clearly built up over the series
cute kid crushes also ngl did not know katara was 14 and not older 12 or 13 so didn’t care about age when watching
now I know she’s 14 and he’s 12 it’s a little weird but still
haters say katara was just the avatar’s trophy girl, as if aang didnt kiss the ground she walked on and wouldnt stop telling anyone how amazing she is. Katara was the first face he saw from the new world and they immediately became friends. she was so excited to meet another bender, he clearly is trying to impress her and it is working, he listens to her about bending and offers to take her to the other side of the world to master water, TELL ME at this moment she is not ride or die and she doesn’t even know he’s the avatar, he lets her feel like a kid again, which is a feeling she’s forgotten after years of being a mother to sokka and the children. he literally sweeps her off her feet to save her from the fire nations ship i-. rewatched boy in the iceberg and hoo boy had canon not messed it up, this ship could have been legendary
hard to imagine older them working out what with the whole last airbender, preserve air nomad culture, let’s travel the world bc nomadic lifestyle, what’s marriage i’m a monk without biological family values vs last southern waterbender, preserve southern water tribe culture, I believe in the power of family and am ridiculously dedicated to my tribe,  let me go home to my father and tribe shtick, but I don’t care for after the show finishes much except for following the gang fix the world so I don’t really care about the marriage issue
canon was good until that Mess in season 3, WHY did he kiss her after that speech, wish they talked that out properly, wish he learned letting go of her to open the 7th chakra was the only right decision, wish the ending was a little more vague in ships and just left things open but yk whatever
that finale kiss was sweet, they hugged foremost as friends, no blushing, and then got the fuzzies, that moment standing alone? a+ but without any talking about what happened on ember island, a little unsatisfying
overall, fine ship, not my favourite nor do I actively ship it, but I see a kataang moment, i’m like, sweet so I give it a 6
Zutara (apparently fans are zutarians which looks like an alien race, plus points)
latter half of the show had quite a lot of Zutara potential, but idk about Zutara actual
katara was so ready to drop his ass, no way at the start
there is only one dynamic between them in which I can see Zutara working and that is as in the Stalking Zuko by emletish series where katara is so distrusting over zuko she takes to stalking him to make sure he isn’t doing anything to hurt Aang or about to betray them (her) again but he is just such a sweet dork who keeps trying to apologise to her even while she’s apologising to him for being a bitch that she can’t help but start to trust him, i’m a third into the third book in the series not stalking firelord zuko and I am thriving and tbh this is the only situation where I accept zutara, read the series I love it
age gap is weird, I know it’s the same difference between kataang but they made a point of zuko being older in the show also he’s so much taller and I don’t like 16 year old boys with 14 year old girlfriends in real life and so would katara because jet
katara has a bad experience with bad boy sword weilders (jet) but I guess you could see it as the start of her type idk
they are both the moms of the Gaang. sokka is the fun dad.
there is a parallel between their families, with the leader of their people dad, mom who left the picture when they were young, an older brother who is not a prodigy at/can’ t bend their respective element so they become proficient at swords instead, prodigy at bending younger sister with a violent streak. this is why I see zutara as potentially a really close friendship, almost siblings, but not a romance because to me katara is a little too like azula for comfort...
tbh I think a lot of folk shipped it because ooh fire boy and water girl (not the game) that’ s perfect, and bam army of zutarians
overall, kind of weird but ok and good grounds for humour so I give it a 4
Jetkara (bad ship name, why would you like this, minus points)
Jet is bad. yes Katara really liked him, yes he was definitely her first kiss and she would definitely consider him her first boyfriend but they would not define it because it’s easier to manipulate someone when it’s unclear what your relationship is and Jet is bad, with his weird fricking eyebrows and not even real swords those hook swords
Not wasting my time, 2
Jinko (cool name, reminds me of Hong Jinkyung, plus points) 
short but so sweet. not the first thing people remember from watching the tales of ba sing se (brb going to rewatch and cry) but really cute, so here’s a running commentary
his first thought was she knew they were fire nation rather than a pretty girl sat in a teashop giving him looks because she had a crush omg
that honest surprise when his uncle suggested she liked her and then she walked up and asked him on a date, adorable
anyone who looked at that god-awful hairstyle and still thought he looked cute has it bad also aww that hair ruffle and the little grab onto his arm
he’s pushing his food around and she’s trying out ice breaker questions and recieving one word responses he has no idea what he’s doing
“she is not my GIRLFRIEND” he’s not over Mai, clearly but he still is trying his best to be a good date even if he’s terrible at making conversation
anyone who sat through that date and the bad lying and the stilted conversation and still thought he was cute has it bad 
he is So Bad At Lying he just told the truth very vaguely and then bam travelling circus
jin so knows the two are fire nation, the whole date she just politely ignores the clear lies and doesn’t react to the obvious firebending, what an icon we love jin
honestly I was really expecting the show to reveal that jin knew he was a firebender if not from the start then from the lights but eh I guess she can keep a secret, good for her
HE KISSED HER BACK BEFORE REALISING A RELATIONSHIP COULD NEVER GO WELL AND HE MAY HAVE ANGSTILY STORMED OFF BUT HE ADMITTED IT WAS A NICE TIME TO HIS UNCLE
that being said I can’t see anything more happening but this date but omg imagine fire lord zuko coming back to visit and they become friends I-
overwhelming support for pre-date jin flirting to an oblivious zuko and the date Jinko, 8
Maiko (name would be a good name for a cat idk why)
childhood sweethearts before the banishment i think
she crushed because he saved her hair from getting burnt by tackling her into a fountain? adorable
I love mai she’s so funny but I think not the best match for zuko? he has a lot of trauma to get over and she doesn’t seem like the let all your feelings out and let’s talk about it until you feel better kind of person.  it was deeply ingrained in her to keep all of her feelings and emotions strongly hidden because she got what she wanted from her politician parents so long as she was quiet, well-mannered, and perfectly behaved according to avatar wiki so I get why she’s that way, until I was 11 I was that way too all the time, I understand freezing your face so you don’t look afraid or upset or angry and risk annoying adults, but I don’t think that that would fit zuko with his social ineptness
they literally broke up twice but are just assumed back together? she just surprised him and said they were back together and I think he forgot she existed
the deadpan firelady and the fire lord would be hilarious together tho she got the ruthlessness he lacks
post coronation I can see it happening, 6 but under Kataang
Sukka (terrible name lmao)
the cutest, sokka very excitedly says “Suki!! :DDD” every time he sees her
she didn’t give him the time of day until HE changed, incredible
just the best canon ship, the two nonbenders in the Gaang but very clearly shown to be important key members.
suki is sneaky and badass, rivalling zuko for position on the team as the sneaky badass one (they tie and bond over being sneaky and badass)
sokka is a great dad, he is the dad of the Gaang and he clearly loves suki and suki loves him back
sokka ships are ELITE, 9
Taang (a delicious orange drink mix that reminds me of home, nostalgia)
foreshadowing from the swamp where someone aang loved in the future really made me think taang was endgame yk
opposite elements ideology that I guess is what zutarians like also leaves everyone in the gang dating a Gaang member if zutara happens
actually the same age but not much else going for it
best friends, 4 but under Zutara
Tokka (great name of a small pet fight me)
sokka ships are elite, childhood crush turned adult strong friendship
I really like seeing the rough, tough, greatest earthbender in  the world have a crush, adorable
sokka is a great friend and his and toph’s canon relationship is so sweet, I wouldn’t change it
toph was fully going to give sokka a kiss on the cheek for saving her life i’m melting
age difference is too weird for a romance he’s like 16 or 17 by the end I think and she’s 12
best friends, 10 as a relationship in the show, 2, but in their 20s after the show... 4 but under Taang
Toko (very forgettable name but both characters have 4 letters so I guess it’s hard to come up with something memorable but every time I read it as Toph because same shape ish so minus points for being annoying)
even weirder age gap than Tokka 
not many moments that could be considered romantic? 
toph first accepted zuko despite him burning her feet, how she sees, which was big and they resolved problems between them quickly
toph clinging to his arm and asking for a life changing field trip caused him to blush, but I see that as him being like oh someone wants to spend time with me?? she’s hugging me??? what is this 
convenient ship for kataangers because the Gaang could be paired off as Kataang, Sukka, Toko
her crush on sokka seemed to go away or calm down when he showed up and she punched him and teased him a lot, her way of bonding
similar strict teaching styles and bonding over secret identities as Blue Spirit and Blind Bandit and parental issues and being the children of important families who made them run away to enjoy not having anything to do with politics and being nobility with impaired vision who have never stepped into a kitchen in their lives and being used to servants and then being on the run
I really see them as siblings with her helping him relax from his duties as fire lord because you already know this boy’s sense of honour is going to make him work tirelessly to fix the world and him helping her relax from the whole i’m not a fragile, weak little blind girl, i’m the greatest earthbender in the world shtick and reminding her she can be both a blind 12 year old girl and the most powerful earthbender in the world, she can accept help without being weak or lesser than anyone, people want to help because they care not that they pity you
best friends 10, relationship in show 1, after show 3
Ty Lokka (I don’t like this name looks like a place but can think of nothing better)
yeah I guess ty lee’s obvious flirting is grounds for a ship but in every interaction he’s involved with someone else and doesn’t seem to like her as a person
do they even interact while on the same side?
friendly aquaintances at best, don’ t understand, 2 but above Jetkara
Tyzula (don’t like this name, like a mineral water?)
canon I don’t care it is canonically a possessive relationship
azula’s only genuine apology goes to ty lee after hurting her feelings
Azula clearly loves ty lee, her betrayal sends her mad
after a lot of therapy for azula and apologies, maybe a healthy relationship could form after the show, 8 above Jinko
Yukka (looks like a childish insult, surely someone could have thought of a better name)
Sokka’s love for Yue stays with him for the rest of his life, she was the first person to die in front of him and he sees the moon as her facing the earth
love this forbidden lovers content, sokka ships stay elite
Sokka and Yue spend as much time together as possible with secret midnight dates flirting (“you wanna do an...activity together?”)  Sokka’s reaction to Yue’s engagement shows that he wants to have a serious relationship with her, and also he thinks Hahn is a bad person for Yue, which he is. 
Yue dying devastated him and he never falls out of love with Yue. her last words “[she] will always be with him” are true. swamp visions show Yue as one of the most important people in his life like a season or so after he last saw her. he wouldn’t kiss suki in front of the moon, and cries when Yue appears on stage, ignoring Suki. he talks about the moon as if it is directly Princess Yue in that cactus juice scene.
she died in his arms oh my god don’t look i crying, he feels personally responsible and guilty
yue was great even though she was the indigenous or black girl with light hair and eyes character and I wish she could have helped aang in the spirit world 
despite her arranged engagement she clearly really likes sokka even though she knows nothing can happen, 9
Kataang, Zutara, Jetkara, Jinko, Maiko, Sukka, Taang, Tokka, Toko, Ty Lokka, Tyzula, Yukka
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awkwardtaco056 · 4 years
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so now that i’m no longer in the Hell that was school and after finding the lovely blog @endcringe i’ve decided to talk about my own experiences with cringe culture, bullying, and why it’s Really Bad to not let people enjoy inherently harmless things, especially neurodivergent people (read more because this is gonna get long and triggering at times, TW for mentions of bullying, suicide, child abuse, a brief mention of incest shipping. I won’t be naming any of the peers that I discuss my experiences with, because my point with this post is Not to “cancel” anyone, I just want to speak out on my experiences)
I’m neurodivergent; I was diagnosed with ADHD when I was 8 years old. I didn’t know a lot about it, and a family member even painted it as “oh it’s nothing blah blah blah just apply yourself more. Because of this, I had no idea about the concept of hyperfixations until I was in my late teens. Due to that, I would obsess over random things and my family would shame me relentlessly for it. My mother said I had an “addictive personality” and that she feared I’d end up a drug addict or alcoholic because of it.
I look younger than what I am, I’m short, and small. AKA, the perfect candidate for being picked on by people bigger and stronger than me. People made fun of my art when I was around 13, but fortunately that was an instance where spite fueled me to improve drastically. However, just because I happened to take the shitty comments and have it fuel me then does NOT mean bullying people will have that effect all the time. At some point someone put my old South Park fan art on a cringe blog. I was temporarily hurt, and a little angry, but I realized that if someone was making fun of a 15 year old’s art, they probably didn’t have much going for them in life, so I moved on.
Fast forward to high school. Everything was horrible and I’m not exaggerating when I say I barely made it out alive. I was living in an abusive household up until January 2018 and I found comfort in many different interests. I’ve always found great comfort in music and the arts in general. In 2016, I drew a picture of a mermaid. I was inspired by the chocolate opal gemstone, and I thought it’d be fun to draw a gay chubby mermaid with dark skin and a rainbow tail and freckles. Junior year was lousy and I wanted something that sparked Joy. I was immediately told that “scientifically, mermaids wouldn’t look like that. Mind you, my take looked like this:
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Obviously I wasn’t going for realism, I just wanted to draw a cute mermaid. However, they continued to tell me that they wouldn’t look like that, going as far as writing so on the back of said drawing. When I got angry at her for taking it too far (as I’d established before that I didn’t like it when people wrote on my art without permission), they got angry back, accusing me of being unable to take criticism. Heated by the accusation, I went as far as asking my art teacher if it was fair for them to say that, and she said no, stating that constructive criticism would be talking about how I could improve my lineart and coloring in the digital version. I took her actual helpful criticism and since then have improved Drastically in digital art. Even with that being said, I found myself hesitant to participate in things such as MerMay because I was leery of hearing that peer berate me for having cartoony mermaids. 
 During high school I grew to love many musicians, a lot of emo/alternative stuff, a couple being Twenty One Pilots and Melanie Martinez. I love how unique TOP’s style is, their open discussion of mental illness, and as someone who had a rough childhood, I connected with every single song on Cry Baby. It was like nothing I’d ever heard. I started listening to mashups featuring all these different artists I love, adoring how they could change the tone and sound so drastically. A peer Bully of mine in junior year condemned these two artists, declaring that they made “Bad Music” simply because it didn’t fit their tastes. They’d throw my drawings on the ground, write over them in pen, steal my headphones so I couldn’t listen to music, push me around, complain that mashups sucked and gave them a headache, and in general shit all over conetnt that was actively preventing me from committing suicide. 
Some family members were no better. Once high school hit, I began listening to Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco, and My Chemical Romance. Their deep complex lyrics stuck with me. I would write down quotes from my favorite songs and thanks to hyperfixating, I remember each studio album in order My mother resented when I fell in love with the “Emo Trinity” because “the Columbine  shooters were emo and that event traumatized me” Despite that, not only did the Columbine tragedy occur in 1999 and none of the bands got together until the early 2000s, but I have a pretty good feeling those groups aren’t For gun violence. The other side constantly criticized the fact that I love FOB, P!ATD, and MCR because I’m black and “why must you listen to that white people music.”
 I grew fond of Dan and Phil in high school (and I’m still a fan to this day!), I loved Phil’s kindness and positive aura and I deeply connect with Dan’s sense of humor and personality. Their content made me happy during some very dark times in my life. It’s November 2017, I’m over a close peer’s house at the time, and notice PINOF is upon us. I drew the PINOF whiskers on my face, my plan being to quietly watch them in the corner of peer’s bedroom on my phone through headphones, the others were doing their own thing and I knew they didn’t like them, so I thought they’d respect it if I silently indulged in it. Unfortunately, the complete opposite happened. I was immediately shunned and locked out of the bedroom, told that I’d only be let back in if I washed the whiskers off because “absolutely not”. Me, being stubborn, washed them off temporarily but drew them back on in the room. Life during then was especially bad for me, as the abusive household I was in was getting worse. They noticed, of course, and even though all I wanted was to enjoy this small tradition in a time during a deep depression, I was immediately shoved out the room and locked out, only to have said peer’s family members notice. I’m a relatively shy person, so this was honesty a really harrowing experience that had a lasting effect on me. 
I grew to adore Sanders Sides as well, but the moment I found out most of my peers didn’t like Thomas, I was terrified.  I stopped watching Dan and Phil’s content for months and shied away from other fandoms too, only occasionally indulging in times of complete solitude. One time when said peers were due to visit my house for the first time, I saw the Phandom and Fander stuff I’d hung up on my wall in my little sanctuary that was my bedroom (it was the first time in years I’d had my own room), and I was filled with panic and fear. I took them down and hid them away, genuinely terrified of what they’d do to me if they saw. It’s still incites so much anger in me to this day because they turned around and ended up shipping incest, but somehow liking D&P and Sanders Sides was So. Much. Worse.
They were baffled by my actions, despite having humiliated me Twice by going on a private blog of mine separate from everything so that I could fully indulge and laughing at everything on there, once at a peer’s house, once right in school. I don’t think they realized how traumatizing it was to have a large group of people in public laughing at something I was deeply self conscious about for all of my life. I put on a brave face at the time, but ended up crying in the bathroom after first period began. I continued to be treated as lesser until things came to an ugly head August 2018 when I ended up in the hospital because I nearly attempted suicide. Years of child abuse, bullying, and being deemed “cringy” made me feel like I didn’t deserve to be alive, that everyone would be happier if I were gone.
After arguably one of the lowest points in my life, I cut them off and slowly began to embrace the Real Me. I started letting myself enjoy the things again, made true friends and even found love, my first boyfriend ever at 18. I still get choked up retelling it, but when PINOF 10 dropped, after he found out how much I’d been hurt over the incident in 2017, I was greeted with a photo of him with the whiskers on his face. I cried for a while, blown away at such a pure act of kindness. He listens to me ramble about my interests, he compliments my taste in music, he watched K-12 with me. 
This got incredibly long, but my point is this: Cringe Culture hurts people. You might think it’s whatever if the Thing doesn’t apply to your interests, but content you’re denouncing as cringy could be something that’s keeping them alive, that one flicker of light in a void of darkness. When I was contemplating suicide, I listened to The Black Parade, repeating Gee’s words to myself over and over, that nothing in the world was worth hurting yourself over. Some friendly joshing here and there is okay, but actively ripping someone to shreds constantly to the point where they have a mental breakdown in front of you and later on plan their own demise is disgusting. Nobody should abuse anyone for having harmless interests, no one. Unless you’re participating in p*dophilic/inc*st/s*xual assault/inherently abusive ships/content and pretending it’s not bad because “Fiction doesn’t impact reality!”, you have every right to like what you like and be happy. Read homestuck. Play Undertale. Draw up the Wildest OCs you can imagine. And stay away from people who try to rob you of innocent fun, life is too short and in this cruel, unforgiving world, you deserve to be happy, whether you’re a 13 year old who draws cute furries, a 16 year old cosplayer on TikTok, a VSCO girl, a 30 year old who writes/draws self insert art or a 20 year old who adores Invader Zim. 
Cringe Culture is just bullying under a different name, and it can lead to many instances of people, especially fellow neurodivergent folk to feel isolated and ostracized. Attempting to bully someone out of an interest they have isn’t going to fix them; it’s more often than not going to cause more damage. I suffer from diagnosed C-PTSD, anxiety, and depression, and sometimes I still find myself trying to over-justify my interests. To all who are roped up in bad homes and lousy “friends” who berate you for your innocent passions, I’m sorry you’re suffering, things will one day get better even if it doesn’t feel like it, and fuck those people. I’d also like to note that sometimes even if it seems more terrifying, it’s better to have one or two close friends you can truly trust than a whole group that walks all over you. You have every right to call them out for treating you poorly, and if things don’t improve, you also have every right to leave.
You have a right to live your True Self.
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inactiive-shit · 4 years
Text
Life As A Sanders
Chapter 11: Knights And Diplomas\
((Previous))//((Next))
LAAS Masterlist
Read on AO3
Warnigs: None
Pairings: familial DLAMP
Summary: The twins graduate.
Words: 6,082
Ages: 18 & 22 & 12
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If you had asked Logan how he felt about being an adult, the answer would have been simple: mostly calm, a little excited. They would have more freedom, but they never really had any complaints about the amount of freedom they got from their Dad. It wasn’t that crazy.
That was before Graduation Day.
Now, sitting in a crowded auditorium and preparing himself to go up on stage and collect the thing he’d been working toward for the last thirteen years, Logan’s opinion had changed:
He was fucking ecstatic.
There was not a calm bone in his body, and he couldn’t help the tremors running through him. He was grinning, so wide it made his whole face feel like it was going to split open, and he wanted to laugh. God, he felt amazing.
“L? You good?” Virgil was smiling as he asked. Logan would’ve stretched his smile wider if he could’ve.
“Yes. I am doing tremendously well.” Logan grabbed Virgil’s hand. “We are graduating, Virgil. We are getting to become real, functioning members of society. We are going to be able to do whatever we want. We can go places and buy things and we don’t have to tell anyone about it first.”
“But we will,” Virgil said. “We’ll tell Dad if we’re going to the store or going to meet somebody.”
“Yes, but we’ll do it because we want to, not because we might not be able to go.” He couldn’t help the energy oozing from every pore anymore than he could stop the blood pumping through his body. This was exciting and amazing and fantastic and wonderful and-
“Yeah,” Virgil agreed. “That is pretty cool.” He leaned back in his chair, looking every bit nonchalant that Logan looked ready to explode. Logan just kept on grinning, vibrating in his seat as the lights adjusted and music played and all those other graduation things happened. He didn’t hear most of it, too absorbed in his own excitement, too ready for whatever he was going to do next. He wanted this to last forever while simultaneously hoping it ended right now so that he could get started on something. It was the strangest feeling Logan had experienced, but it wasn’t necessarily bad.
Then, suddenly, Logan heard his name being called and stood up, walking up the aisle to the stage with Virgil right behind him. Hooting and cheering was echoing from all over the audience despite the fact that the Principal had explicitly asked for all cheering to be withheld until all the graduates had retaken their seats.
Within all the noise, Logan felt positive he could hear Dad and Ro and Dee. It was unrealistic to imagine that their voices would be heard when they were sitting so far up in the seats. But Logan knew what he knew, and that was that his family was every bit as excited about this as Logan was and they were making their excitement heard.
Every step approaching the stage felt like Logan was ascending Mount Olympus to meet with Zeus, or entering the Shire to see the Ring. There was an inflating, buoyant feeling in his chest, and if he wasn’t careful, Logan might just float away with all those ‘Happy Graduation' helium balloons.
He paused on stage to receive his diploma - a rolled up sheet of blank paper with a fancy bow on it because they couldn’t get the real thing until they’d gone to the bookkeeper to make sure that they didn’t have any outstanding fees - and shake the Principal’s hand, smiling up into the crowd. He found his family and beamed at them, resisting the urge to jump up and down like a lunatic. Logically, Logan knew there was no reason for him to be this excited. Not much was realistically changing. He wasn’t even taking his real diploma right now.
But something in him didn’t care about all that. He was doing something big, something huge, he and Virgil both were. They were going to take this step into real life together, and they were moving up to something else. College in the fall or a job, maybe. Logan didn’t know yet. What Logan did know was that it was his decision, and he had so many options.
Logan took his seat beside Virgil again, holding hands, both of them shaking. He didn’t hear the rest of the Graduation Ceremony, whatever people talked about or whichever of their classmates got their diplomas. Logan’s leg bounced up and down, up and down, up and down as the ceremony dragged on for eons. Then the students were standing up and their families were flooding in. There was a bottleneck at the doors, and Logan knew they’d be stuck for a while before Dad and Ro and Dee got to them.
“Follow me,” Virgil whispered, tugging on Logan’s hand. Intrigued, Logan followed Virgil through the crowd, both waving as they passed by Percy and her Mom. How she’d gotten into the main area, Logan didn’t know. Similarly, how Percy had graduated while turning in less work than Virgil was also a mystery, but at the end of the day, Logan was content just to know that it had happened. As much of a pain as their friends could be, and Percy in particular, Logan was glad that all of them had graduated. It wouldn’t be the same if they hadn’t.
Virgil bee-lined for a door being guarded by the physics professor - he actually owned a doctorate, why he was a high school teacher was beyond Logan - and they both paused there.
“Mr. Sanders,” he said, eyes on Virgil despite the fact that Logan was the one who had taken his class.
“Dr. Bhasin,” Virgil responded, giving a slight nod. Dr. Bhasin glanced around before nodding back and opening the door and letting them through. It shut behind them with a quiet snick.
“Virgil,” Logan said, all his questions stopping at the tip of his tongue. Luckily, Virgil got it.
“I didn’t want to deal with the crowd and I figured with the combination of having to get Ro and Dee here, they’d be late and get pretty bad seats. When I found out he was going to be guarding one of the doors for ‘safety purposes’ I brought him a bag of LaffyTaffy in exchange for letting me leave.” Virgil shrugged.
“LaffyTaffy,” Logan repeated.
“Everybody has a weakness, L,” he said. And while Logan wanted to repeat LaffyTaffy for the rest of his existence in complete bewilderment that a doctor who was as revered as his physics professor would disregard rules for candy, he could already feel that helium feeling rising up in his stomach again and he decided rather forcefully that he wouldn’t get stuck on his own lack of comprehension with his teacher’s strange and nonsensical patterns of behavior. He was not going into the humanities for a reason.
“Lovely,” Logan said instead and they ran down the hallway and then down a flight of stairs, ending up outside in the sun. Logan blinked quickly, the light burning his eyes after so long a time of sitting inside and waiting to be able to see his family. Outside, probably three fourths of the students’ families were waiting, like they were supposed to, for their kids to come out. Logan knew it was going to be a pretty long wait for them because so many others chose to try to enter the main part of the auditorium instead of heading outside, but he felt entirely, selfishly glad that Virgil had been able to foresee that particular issue.
“I see Ro,” Virgil said, pointing toward a shock of bright red hair. Logan took off running for it and Virgil followed half a step behind. They barrelled into him at full speed, nearly knocking him over. Then they were engulfed by three pairs of arms and teary laughs and Logan would float away if they let go of him. Luckily, they stayed that way for what could have been hours or days; all he knew was by the time he stepped back the other students had flooded outside also.
“My baby is all grown up!” Dad said, hanging onto Logan’s hand just as tightly as Logan held his. “Both of them!” He cooed and cried over them, grabbing ahold of their faces and kissing their heads. He took picture after picture as he did it, which was rather impressive considering he had tears smudged all over his glasses. While normally Logan abhorred such displays, and especially when they disrupted his meticulously done hair, today was anything but normal. Logan laughed loudly and leaned into it, feeling every sensation with amazing clarity.
“Are you excited for dinner?” Roman asked. For the first time today, Logan remembered: their graduation dinner.
“Nooo,” he groaned, drawing out the syllable. Roman snorted at him but Virgil, the only one with some sense, joined him in his whining.
“This is gonna suuuuuck,” he said, leaning into Logan. “So many people.”
“Ssssssocializzzzzing,” Dee hissed from his spot on Virgil’s back and Logan would deny the way he went right back to smiling at that adorable little snake sound. “Disssssgusssssting.”
“Exactly,” said Virgil. “Dee gets it.”
“Da-ad, they’re corrupting my brother,” Roman said. Virgil punched him in the arm and Roman feigned being mortally wounded. Dee cheered wildly and any semblance of respectability that Logan had vanished as he devolved into a round giggling - not that he would ever call it giggling, but some facts were simply irrefutable.
“Oh, come on, now,” Dad said. “Nobody’s corrupted.”
“Yet,” Roman said, sticking his tongue out at Virgil when Dad started walking toward the car. Logan coughed over a laugh and instead caught up with Dad.
“Who exactly is meant to attend this dinner?” Logan asked.
“Just your friends, kiddo! I promise, I wouldn’t invite anybody that you didn’t like.” Dad smiles at Logan, and Logan cannot for the life of him explain that perhaps, just for tonight, he does not like any of them enough to want to see them. But he knows that Virgil would like to go, and that Virgil is always less anxious with Logan around. So he took a breath and nodded.
“Adequate.” Dad gave him an odd look but opted not to say anything and they got home in relative peace.
Relative peace meaning only that Logan had not gone completely deaf by the time he stumbled out of the car to escape the unfortunately loud music Virgil had been permitted to play. How his twin had not lost all his hearing yet remained a mystery to Logan, but one he knew better than to look into personally.
The last time he had asked too insistently, he permanently lost one of his socks. He did not intend to have a repeat.
Logan wished he could say that he was not even kind of tempted by the blanket fort he saw in the living room when he walked into the house—it was unprofessional, ridiculous, and frankly the structural integrity was so bad it was a wonder it could stand at all. But that would be a falsehood and Logan was far too excited to even pretend that the blanket for was unappealing.
He discarded his shoes and the graduation cap quickly, diving into the fort. Roman laughed on the outside, and Logan would have complained about that too but he was suddenly contending with an armful of little snake.
“Moviesss,” Dee hissed, curling up in Logan’s lap. Dad crawled in after them, grinning.
“Yep, kiddo,” he said. “We’re watching movies until it’s time for dinner.”
Roman squeezed in after him and they all had to shift around a little so that they fit comfortably. “I think we should watch Mulan,” he said.
“Vetoed,” Virgil said immediately from outside the fort.
“Virrrrrrgillllll,” Roman whined.
“Roooooomaaaaaan,” Virgil responded, “no.” Roman groaned and threw his arms out, coming within an inch of taking Logan’s glasses off his face.
“Roman, do not underestimate me when I say if you hit me in the face, you will regret it.”
“Oh yeah?” Roman said. “What are you gonna do about it, specs?” Logan kept his face completely blank while he dragged a finger across his throat. That was one gesture that he had found particularly useful in life. It always caused Ro to make a face and stop whatever offending thing he was doing. As he did now, which Logan was grateful for.
“Snow White,” Dee said, hugging his stuffed snake to his chest.
“Ooh, good idea, kiddo,” Dad said.
“I agree with Dee,” Logan said. Dee wriggled happily, almost smacking Logan in the face when he waved his arms a little too exuberantly for the small, weak structure they were sitting in. Logan sighed, moving his face back, and refused to look at Roman when he made Offended Princey Noises and started babbling nonsense about having no allies.
What did he think this was, a war?
(If it was, Logan was totally winning.)
Logan snickered to himself while Virgil set up all their movies and then dragged himself into the fort, nearly knocking it over in the process.
“Got enough snacks there, emo nightmare?” Roman said, swatting at Virgil. Virgil held up a box of snowcaps. “Sorry, thank you, I love you, you are my favorite brother.” Roman snatched the candy away and very nearly hit Logan’s glasses off his face. Again.
Logan sighed and scooted a little closer. If he couldn’t get outside the range of Roman’s arms, he may as well get inside his personal space. An eye for an eye, right?
~~~~~~~
Logan adjusted his tie, in the same shades of blue and gold as his graduation garments had been, and then smoothed his hair back. He fiddled in front of the mirror, examining his outfit as though he thought it might betray him. If asked why, Logan would simply say that he wanted to look his best. He had just graduated, after all, and this dinner was going to make it as official as it got.
In truth, Logan was dawdling.
This graduation dinner was going to kill him if it was the last thing he did. Don’t get him wrong, Logan did like seeing his friends and he had been excited about getting to graduate with his peers all day. And that was part of the problem.
Logan had been excited and very nearly bouncing himself through the ceiling since the previous night. Graduation had gone amazingly, filled with pictures he was sure he’d get tired of looking at eventual (but for now still filled him with that indescribable, inflated feeling.) And now all he really wanted to do was sleep. Or maybe talk to Virgil about some of the things they wanted to do with this new-found freedom.
Instead, he was going to a celebration dinner with friends. It was not bad, per se, but it was not exactly ideal, either. Still, it wouldn’t be terrible to see them and Virgil was more excited about this than he had been about Walking, but he had done it for Logan. The least he could do was support his brother.
“What’re you doing?” Ro cried, barging into Logan’s room. At some point they had switched necklaces so that the pronouns read ‘they/them.’ Logan smiled slightly. He had bought them the pronoun necklace shortly after they came out, and Logan was always made happier to realize how much they liked it.
“Preparing to leave. What are you doing?” Logan said. He tightened his tie again. Ro rolled their eyes.
“C’mon, Poindexter. You can tie that in your sleep and we’re going to be late to your own celebration.” They snagged one of his wrists and began leading him toward the car.
“We are hardly going to be late,” he muttered but did not object to leaving. The restaurant, some pizza place Logan did not bother with figuring out the name of, had been reserved for a record number of people. Logan and Virgil and Ro and Dee and Percy and Dad, and Dad’s sibling Emile, and Emile’s son Kai, and Kai’s datemate Elliot. There were also Ro’s friends Anton and Marco, and Dee’s friends October and Seth, and a few people from Dad’s bakery, including Missy. Logan recalled he had invited his lab partner from Physics, Linda, and his two friends Nate and Corbin. Corbin’s boyfriend, Sloane, might also make an appearance, though Logan would not be surprised if he did. The two were figuratively attached at the hip. Virgil had only suggested two people: someone who Virgil only referred to as dickhead or The Critic, and Remy.
The latter, Logan knew, Virgil liked in a way different from how one liked friends. He also knew Virgil was still recovering from an unfortunate incident a few years prior that had ended with Logan and Ro egging someone’s house. Virgil had not expressed an interest in dating or trusting someone like that again, except for vague allusions to Remy, but it was not yet Logan’s place to be encouraging that.
Though he might. Virgil could be slow to trust and even slower to take a risk for himself. This was a risk that was almost certainly going to pan out in his favor because Remy was just as enamoured with Virgil as Virgil was with them. He would have to consult Ro first, get their expertise and advice on the matter. Logan preferred not to mess with romance. It was outside his realm of desires. As such, he had no idea what steps to take to help Virgil along with it. But he would, regardless.
Once they arrived at the restaurant, Logan was surprised to see they’d been beaten there. By none other than Nate himself. He was known for being chronically late to literally everything he attended, if he showed up at all—and Logan does mean literally. He had never, in all his time, known Nate to be anything other than late (fashionably, as Remy would insist, but what is fashionable about not respecting another’s time?)
“Hey, bro, I was beginning to wonder if you were going to show up,” Nate said, following the Sanders into the restaurant. Logan snorted.
“And I thought your M.O. was to never show up on time, simply to prove you did not have to. Has that changed or is this an anomaly to be discounted when making plans with you in the future?”
Nate smirked, leaning in a little closer to Logan as they waited for the wait staff to bring them back to the party room. “An anomaly, an exception. Who can say? Maybe I misread the time.”
“Or maybe you’re an ass,” Virgil said, shoulder-checking Nate as he walked by. Logan coughed over a laugh and tried to look sympathetic as Nate stared after him, affronted.
“What did I ever do to earn your brother’s ire?”
Resisting the urge to be outwardly impressed with Nate’s choice in diction (he’d been told it was sometimes a rather condescending thing to do), he said, “It’s how he shows love.” Then Logan hooked his fingers through Nate’s sleeve and pulled him along. It took longer than was strictly necessary for Logan to let go, but there were very few people in the world whom Logan would willingly come into prolonged physical contact (or, really, any kind of contact, but physical especially) with, and Logan had never been one to entirely forgo the things he enjoyed without ample reason.
“Oh, like a cat,” Nate said. Virgil turned around and hissed and Logan barely contained the laugh that threatened to escape at Nate’s horrified expression.
“No, not like a cat,” he choked out, adjusting his glasses for Composure™. “Cats are actually very loving creatures. It is merely a matter of understanding their ways of expressing love and reciprocating so that they understand you also love them.”
“Oh, really?” Nate said. He pulled Logan’s chair out without hesitating and took the seat next to him. “How do cats show love, then?”
“You don’t even like cats,” Logan said, leveling his best deadpan look on Nate. He was unaffected, however, and just raised an eyebrow right back.
“Humor me.”
Logan snorted and shook his head, but obligingly opened his mouth. “Well, when a cat bends its tail…”
~~~~~~~
Hours later—or at least, it felt like hours to Logan’s exhausted brain—they finally brought out the dessert. Dessert meant that the event was almost over, and that meant it was almost time for Logan to collapse into his bed and make his plans for tomorrow.
Plans that would likely include driving somewhere (just because he could) to pick up something that he would need, as well as most likely taking Dee along with him because Dee loved car rides and always woke up nearly as early as Logan did.
So, while Logan was not particularly excited about dessert, he did help himself to a cupcake and had to wipe some of the chocolate icing off Nate’s face when he was too enthusiastic with his endeavour to eat it in one bite. (On a dare from Remy, no less, which should not have surprised Logan in the least.)
Currently, however, Virgil was ensconced in a conversation with Remy that was taking his entire focus, Percy and Nate were going head-to-head to see who could eat more cupcakes the quickest (the benefit of having a baker for a dad: unlimited dessert. Even when it was an ill-formed idea), Linda was trying to dissuade them (something Logan knew was futile from so much personal experience), and Corbin and Sloane were barely shy of making-out. With everyone that Logan was worried about or responsible for taken care of, Logan felt content and confident in taking his leave.
He stole out the front of the restaurant, slipping down to sit on a conveniently-placed bench before anyone noticed him moving. It had been a very long day, and while Logan had enjoyed his conversations Nate and Corbin and Virgil and all the congratulations and attention that he and Virgil were being given, he was very tired. A quick break now, and then he’d be able to stomach another cupcake or two before it was time to leave.
The day had been good, and Logan could not have been happier with the outcome.
He was still resting on the bench when a presence settled in beside him. “Are you asleep?” asked a young voice, and Logan cracked a smile.
“Not at all, little snake.” Logan opened his eyes and looked at his younger brother (he’d never had one of those before, and even now the thought made him feel impossibly brighter. Being an older brother, he decided, was a good thing. The thought of the responsibility had been nerve wracking at first, but now Logan could not be convinced to trade it for anything.) “What do you need?”
“I brought chess,” Dee said by way of explanation. He unfolded the board between them and pulled the bag of pieces out. “You said you’d practice with me, and I thought you might want to now since, ya know, you don’t always like loud people so much.” Dee looked up at him big, hopefully eyes and it was suddenly a struggle for Logan to not have to wipe his eyes.
“Of course,” Logan said, and he reached out to ruffle Dee’s hair the way Ro always did to Logan himself. Dee beamed up at him, one lower canine missing from an unfortunate incident regarding a swing set and a badly positioned seesaw. “That was very thoughtful of you.”
“Yesssss,” Dee hissed, up-ending the bag onto the board and watching as the pieces scattered. Logan laughed brightly, resisting the urge to ruffle Dee’s hair again and righting the pieces.
“Do you remember where they go?” Logan asked.
“Chad, Brooke, Charlie, Lilah, John, Charlie the second, Brooke the second, and Chad the second,” Dee said, nudging each piece into its correct place.
“My next question was going to be if you remembered their names, but I suppose that answers that question,” Logan muttered, even though that really did not answer any such question. “What about these guys?” He held up a pawn, the only pieces Dee had not yet put in their proper places.
“Well,” Dee said, barely glancing up, “they all look the same so I just call them the Dudes.” Logan internalized his groan. These antics were probably urged by the combined efforts of Ro and Virgil, though it is something Dad would do, too, because he always said you remembered things better if you gave them names.
Still, it would not fly if Dee wanted to join the chess club at school, like he’d been talking about, and even doing professional competitions. As cute as naming the pieces was, he would have to know their official titles.
But...well, that was something they could work on next time.
“In what directions can the Dudes move?” Logan asked.
“Forward,” Dee said confidently. Then, more hesitantly, “And only one square. But the first one gets a double jump?”
“Very good,” Logan said, and he moved one of his pawns two squares forward. “Which piece in the back row can move over the first row?”
“Is it Charlie?” Dee asked.
“No, but good guess. It’s the Knight. Uhm, I believe you named them Brooke.” Logan pointed to Dee’s horse head piece, and Dee picked up. “Do you know why they can do that?”
“No.”
“It’s because they are horses, and that means they can jump right over the pawn-the Dudes’ heads.” Logan corrected himself quickly, pointing to the two squares on the board that Dee’s knight could go to. Dee giggled, jumping the horse over the pawns and neighing, landing it in the righter space of the two possibilities.
“Interesting,” Logan said, stroking a pretend beard. Dee giggled and Logan moved another pawn into position. Dee poked his tongue through the hole in his teeth while he contemplated the board. Eventually, he scooted a pawn forward to sit next to his knight. He was too new to know any strategy of the game, but Logan couldn’t help but imagine that Dee knew exactly what he was doing, with that cute little concentrating look on his face, and that he had a plan.
Though, it probably would not just be imagining for too much longer. It was no secret that Dee was extremely intelligent. It was only a matter of time before he was figuratively kicking Logan’s butt every game they played.
Logan would be willing to bet that time would come sooner rather than later. He couldn’t wait to see it.
~~~~~~~
Approximately two hours later saw Logan and Dee entering their fourth game of chess. Logan was focusing much harder now than he had been before. Dee had managed to take out half Logan’s pieces at least in their first two games - partly because Logan was going easy on him and still trying to teach him - but in the third game, either by some over-sight on Logan’s part or because Dee somehow did know some chess strategy, he had taken Logan’s Queen, or Lilah as Dee preferred, and had very nearly beat Logan.
“Have you been researching this?” Logan asked, allowing Dee the first move.
“Nah,” Dee said, scrunching his face up before moving one of his knights. “Why? Am I doing good?”
“Good?” Logan asked, and he was faintly aware that he was incredulous in the best possible way. “Dee, you are doing phenomenally.”
“Awesome,” Dee said, sounding just as excited about the game as he did when he asked for Sour Patch Kids at the store. He paused before asking, “Is it supposed to be hard? It just kinda makes sense, doesn’t it?”
“For some people, it does. For most people it is a very hard game that takes years of practice.” Logan moved his piece in counterpoint to Dee’s.
“Huh,” said Dee. “Well, that’s weird.” He didn’t say anything else, and neither did Logan, and Logan played the first game of chess in years in which he almost lost not once, but twice. It was an entirely unique experience.
People Logan recognized started pouring out of the restaurant, and Logan realized that they had spent for more time outside than he had intended to. He helped Dee pack up all the pieces and find the rest of their family still inside the building.
“Hey, Lo! I was beginning to think you ran off,” Dad said, wrapping his arm around Logan’s shoulders briefly.
“I think Dee should join the chess club,” Logan said with no preamble. Dad blinked, confused, but then he shrugged amicably.
“That would be great! As long as he still wants to when school starts up next year, there’s not any reason he shouldn’t.” He grabbed one of the empty cupcake boxes off the table and tossed it into a trash bin. “Anything in particular bring this up?”
“Well,” Logan said, helping to collect the trash. Sure, the staff could clean it all up, but they had all worked the bakery with Dad at one point or another. It was always a little pick-me-up when the patrons helped out. “We were outside playing and-”
“I almost beat Lo!” Dee exclaimed, jumping at Dad. Dee was swung up and around, onto his back, and Dad laughed.
“That’s really impressive, Dee,” Dad said. “Did you have fun?”
“Yeah!”
“Hey,” said a voice at his shoulder. Logan spun around, startled, and came face-to-face with Nate. “Where’d you run off to?”
“I was, uhm, outside. With Dee.” Logan very suddenly felt short of breath, noticing the dimple on Nate’s face when he smirked. “We were playing chess and got caught up.”
Nate hummed in response. “Did you enjoy your graduation?”
“Yeah, I did. I am exhausted, though.” Logan wondered, briefly, if this is how Virgil felt around Remy. He wondered if, perhaps, he was not in fact aromantic, but maybe something more like…
Demiromantic.
What an unfortunate time to realize he was crushing on his best friend.
“Here, I got you this.” Nate pulled a little box out of his pocket and offered it to Logan. Logan was hesitant to take it - with his rather suddenly realized feelings and absolutely no advice asked of anyone more knowledgeable about the subject, he had no idea what he was supposed to do.
“Uh, thank you,” Logan said. He took the box.
“Wait til you get home to open it?” Nate asked. Logan nodded mutely and stuffed the box into his own pocket. “Cool. Text ya later, nerd boy.” He punched Logan’s arm before walking, slowly, out of the room. Logan watched him go, conflicted. He was not, generally, one to hide his feelings. He would have to confess soon because if not, he would act unbelievably strange around Nate from then on. It would be enjoyable for no one. But for now he was better off waiting to get advice before making any definitive choices.
“What is up with people in leather jackets? Virgil, you. It must be something in the air,” Ro said, appearing next to Logan. Logan coughed over his spluttering while Ro laughed. “Anygay, we’re leaving too. Come on.” He grabbed Logan’s hand and dragged him to the car. It was so reminiscent of exactly what Ro had done to him earlier that Logan felt as though he were experiencing deja vu but in reverse.
You know, if that were a thing that could happen.
The ride home was quiet and Logan excused himself to his room immediately. He was not at all surprised when, no more than thirty minutes later, Virgil opened his door a crack, entered, closed it, and then flopped onto his bed soundlessly. In the dark room, wearing their pajamas, it was easy to pretend that they were both back to being six years old and sharing a room.
“It has been a day,” Virgil said, voice tired but light.
“Most are,” Logan said, and Virgil tossed his hand at Logan in a half-hearted slap. It landed on his face and they both just left it there.
“You know what I mean,” he said.
“Yeah,” Logan sighed. “It was good, though. Productive.”
“You can just say you’re happy.”
“I am ecstatic and also exhausted.”
“Fair enough. I feel ya. What’s the first thing you want to do with our new-found freedoms and diplomas?” Virgil’s fingers began tapping a rhythm into Logan’s face, soft and soothing.
“Store. Buy things I don’t need. Learn more about chess.”
“You have weird priorities, Lo.”
“What are you going to do, then?”
“Sleep in until noon, regret my decisions, and then, possibly something crazy. Something beyond insane. Something absolutely-”
“Are you going to hang out with Remy?”
“Maybe.” Virgil shrugged, shifting Logan slightly. “We’ll see what kinds of dreams I have.” They stayed quiet for a few minutes, Logan wondering what Virgil’s dreams had to do with anything.
“I like Nate,” he said. “In the same way I believe you like Remy.” There was a breath of silence before Virgil responded that very nearly made Logan’s head explode.
“First of all, rude and incorrect. Second of all, demi?”
“I think so. I’m not sure. I’ll have to look into it more.”
“There’s nothing wrong with changing your identity,” Virgil said quietly. “I thought I was gay for years before I realized I was actually pan and just had a lot of stuff about myself to figure out.” He paused, and Logan felt a tension he had not even realized was carrying leave his shoulders. “And, if you don’t want to, there’s no reason you even have to label it. You can just like who you like and leave it at that. Plus, now that you do like someone, I get exclusive rights to make you suffer.”
“Shut up.” Logan laughed. “Thank you, Virgil. That was...immensely helpful. But do not think this means we will not be talking about Remy.” Logan scooted slightly closer to the wall, allowing Virgil enough room to actually be fully on the bed. “Oh. I just remembered that Nate gave me a present. Could you grab my jeans?”
Virgil reached to the ground and found Logan’s pants, pulling the box out of the pocket and tossing it to him. “That all?”
“Yes.” Logan felt the box, weighing it in his hands.
“Come on,” Virgiled whined, “open it. I wanna see what’s inside.”
“Mind your own business,” Logan said, just a touch petulant, but went ahead and opened the box by his phone light anyway. Inside there was a chewable necklace—something Logan had been meaning to get for quite a while. He had a nasty habit of chewing whatever was near him when he was working or thinking—and a slip of paper. Logan did not bother to bite back his smile at the gift as he slipped it on and unfolded the paper.
Logan,
Me and you could go out to the festival Friday night if you want. Meet you there at six.
Call it a date?
Logan did not squee when he read those words, but perhaps a sound somewhere in the neighborhood did come out of his mouth. Immediately he started chewing his necklace (convenient) and smacked at Virgil’s arm. Virgil laughed.
“Ro can help you get ready for your date,” he said. “But you should probably text Nate to let him know you accept.”
“Yes, yes you are absolutely correct.” Logan whipped out his phone, but then paused. “Is there not some form of texting etiquette? To not respond too soon so you don’t seem clingy?”
“I’ve never gotten that stuff,” Virgil said. “You like him, he likes you. You want him to know that, so why pretend to be disinterested? I don’t know. Respond whenever you want. As long as it’s coming from you, I doubt it’ll matter.”
“Okay,” Logan muttered, already quickly texting Nate that Friday sounded like a wonderful idea and that he absolutely could not wait.
“Well,” Virgil said, “now that our emotional shit is taken care of.” He yawned and stretched his arms above his head, repositioning himself slightly. “Night, L.”
“You better go out with Remy,” Logan said.
“Stop meddling.”
“God themself literally could not make me. Night, V. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” Logan fell asleep, and while he could not speak to the quality of Virgil’s dreams, his left him refreshed and excited the next morning.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Taglist: @supersoftsupersleep @trashcanego
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haledamage · 4 years
Text
OC Interview: Liv Ramsey
a slightly more different interview with Liv XD @captainofthefallen​ open tagged and I didn’t need any much encouragement, so here you go. Gonna put most of it under a cut because it got really long. 
I want to do this with Kira, too, but I couldn’t decide which romance route, and since some of the answers would obviously be different depending, I decided not to. (if someone wants to reply to this and tell me which Bravo Boy you want to see Kira awkwardly pretend she isn’t attracted to, I’ll do this for her as well :))
Rules:
1. Choose an OC.
2. Answer as that OC.
3. Tag 5 people to do the same  I was gonna say I’m not tagging anyone, but I’m gonna actually tag @queen-scribbles​ for one of her Wayhaven Detectives because I love them :3
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1. What is your name?
“Raphael.” She grins playfully, as sharp and bright as a blade. She’s fidgeting restlessly with what looks to be a 9mm bullet. You’re unsure if it’s meant to be a threat or if she just needs something to do with her hands. “Okay, not really. I’m Liv. Olivia Ramsey. Charmed, I’m sure.”
2. Do you know why are you named that?
“I don’t know for a fact that I am named that. It’s just what they called me, and I decided to keep it.” She slips the bullet into some hidden pocket in the simple, well-tailored black suit she’s wearing and leans back, picking absently at her chipped blood-red nail polish. “As for Raphael, that’s my rank. Like a callsign, you could say. Or a nickname. I’ve got pretty attached to it in the last month or so.”
3. Are you single or taken?
She scowls. “I never liked to phrase it that way. ‘Taken,’ like I’ve been kidnapped or somethin’.” She pauses, studying your face like she’s trying to figure out how much to tell you. “But I assume you’re askin’ if I’m in a relationship, and I guess I am. Sorta. I’m pretty sure.” 
She takes a deep breath and lets it out in a long sigh. “I am in love with a man who is also in love with me and that I sometimes share a bed with. That I share a lot of things with. He’s also technically my boss, and if anyone knew about it, they’d try to use me to get to him. I’d be tortured and killed and that’s if I’m lucky. So it’s, y’know, a bit complicated.”
She leans forward in her chair suddenly, all the kindness draining from her face. “This stays between us, right, sweetheart? I’m not gonna let you put Gabriel in any danger over this.” She sits back and just like that her smile is back. “And before you ask, no. I haven’t seen his face. Everyone always asks me that. It’s not safe yet. No tellin’ who else might be watching.” Her smile softens into something fond, almost sweet. “I can wait. He’s worth it.”
4. Have any abilities or powers?
“I’m a good sweet-talker. Good at gettin’ people to tell me things or makin’ ‘em listen. I prefer to do it with a smile, but,” she pauses, a shadow of something very dangerous in her pale eyes, “well, sometimes people are stubborn. I got other ways to make ‘em talk, too.”
“Besides that, I move fast, I can be real quiet when I need to… or real loud, if that’s what’s called for instead. Pretty good at patching up wounds. Less good at causing them, but hey, no one’s perfect.” She shrugs one shoulder.
5. Stop being a Mary Sue.
She laughs, loud and joyful and maybe a little unhinged. “Oh, I fuckin’ wish. You know what’d I’d do if I had super powers and shit?” Her laughter quiets, but she keeps chuckling. “Maybe it’s better if you don’t.”
6. What’s your eye color?
“Blue. Not much to say about it, really. Lotsa people have blue eyes.”
7. How about your hair color?
She tugs on a strand of her long hair, currently falling loosely around her shoulders and down her back. “It’s red, right now. I change it sometimes, when the mood strikes, but I like red. I think only Mouse and Gabriel know my natural hair color, and I’d prefer to keep it that way.” She taps her index finger on her thigh, thinking. "Maybe Michael knows. I dunno how much Gabriel tells him. I don't think he'd really care about somethin’ like that. Bigger fish to fry and all."
8. Have any family members?
“I mean, I’ve got the Archangels. Beyond them, no. Don’t need anyone else.”
9. Oh? How about pets? 
She brightens suddenly. “I have a kitten! Her name’s Ruby. Here, I think I have a picture.” She pulls her phone out of her pocket and scrolls through it for a moment before holding it out to you. On the screen is a picture of a kitten, about three or four months old, with fluffy gray fur and curious blue eyes. It seems to be laying on what looks like a black hockey mask. “Raquel’s probably still a little pissed at me for keeping her, but… well, it did kinda save her life.”
10. That’s cool, I guess. Now, tell me something you don’t like?
“I don’t like being shot at,” she says dryly, then she smirks. “I don’t like when people threaten my friends. If I had a dime for every time someone threatened to hurt Mouse in order to get me to talk, I could retire somewhere tropical.” She laughs to herself, one quick, amused ‘ha!’. “I’d like to see them try. He may be little, and quiet, but I don’t recommend underestimating him. It’ll be the last thing you ever do.” 
11. Do you have any activities/hobbies that you like to do?
“I’m an artist. You’ve probably seen some of my work, if you’ve ever been to Manhattan. A couple of them were even done legally.” Her smile is warm, and there’s still laughter in her eyes. “I’m a painter. I mean, when I have time. I got lots of sketchbooks I fill up when I don’t have the time to put things on canvas or concrete. I’m also a pretty good chess player.” Her smile turns a little wicked. “Ask Rook how good I am at it. I wonder if he’s still sore about losin’ to me. I don’t think Bishop’s ever gonna let him live it down.”
12. Have you ever hurt anyone in any way before?
“Are you kidding me?” She laughs. “I have hurt people in any way you can imagine and several ways you probably can’t. I don’t like to do it… well, just between you and me, sometimes I do like it.” She straightens the light blue tie she wears. “But either way, it’s part of the job. And I'm very good at my job.”
13. Ever… killed anyone before?
“Oh yeah. Plenty of them.” She shrugs, like she’s not bothered at all by it, but she won’t quite meet your eyes. “If it makes you feel any better, they were bad people. Probably. Most of them were, at least.” She smiles warmly at you, the tension in her expression gone like it was never there. “Don’t worry, we don’t kill innocents or civilians. Even nosy ones.”
14. What kind of animal are you?
“I dunno. Probably like a coyote or somethin’. One of those animals that can survive in almost any environment. The ones that stubbornly refuse to die.”
15. Name your worst habits?
“I run off at the mouth, especially if I’m scared or hurt or nervous. Not, like--” she pauses, as if looking for the right words “I don’t give away information or anything like that. I’m not a snitch. I just… I’m a bit of a smartass, and a bit of a flirt, and in situations where I should probably not be talking, I’m doin’ one of those instead. Michael says it’ll get me killed one day. Sometimes he says he’ll be the one to do it.” She grins. “He doesn’t mean it. He adores me. Don’t let him tell you different.”
She slouches back in her chair, crossing her legs at the knee. “Besides that, I can’t sit still worth shit and I always forget to do the dishes. Also, don’t hand me any important paperwork because I will draw on it.”
16. Do you look up to anyone at all?
“Nope. Never really had anyone to look up to. Well, maybe…” she pauses, her eyes distant. “Maybe Kaidan. Never had anyone take a chance on me before he did. He’s the reason I’m here now. The reason I’m an Archangel. He’s kinda my… mentor, in a way.” She smiles to herself. “Him and Gabriel. But I can’t exactly say I look up to Gabriel, y’know? That gets into weird territories, when you consider my relationship with him.” 
17. Are you gay, straight or bisexual?
“Are those my only choices? ‘Cause those are not the only sexual orientations out there, sweetheart. I’m pansexual.” She spreads her arms out in an inviting way. “I’m an equal opportunity gal.” 
18. Did you attend school?
“Sure. New York public schools. I even graduated. For Mouse, more than for myself. If I dropped out, he woulda done so too, and I didn’t want to drag him down with me.” She looks down, sadness in her eyes for a moment. “Guess I did anyway. Some best friend I turned out to be.” 
19. Ever want to marry and have kids one day?
“I don’t really care one way or the other about marriage, but if I ever have kids they’ll be adopted. I wanna give some kid the kind of home, the kind of family, that I never got to have. Unconditional and all that shit.”
20. Do you have any fangirls/fanboys?
“Obviously.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder dramatically, then laughs. “Nah. If people know who I am, I’m not doin’ my job right, and if people are out there bein’ fans of the Archangels, then it’s Michael and Gabriel they’re swooning over, not Raphael.”
21. What are you most afraid of? 
Her face goes abruptly blank and cold. “Being abandoned. Being alone. I’ve been there before… before Mouse, before the Archangels. I’ll burn this whole fuckin’ city to the ground if that’s what it takes to keep them safe. I’m not ever going back to that. Not ever.”
22. What do you usually wear?
“Usually?” She looks down at herself. “Oh, you’re askin’ about the suit! It’s standard Archangel uniform. Black suit, blue tie, mask.” She pulls a hockey mask out of the inside pocket of her suit jacket. It’s black and has what appears to be a cascade of red roses down the right side of it. “You like it? I designed it myself.”
She puts the mask back away. “When I’m not working, I like layers. Tank tops and flannel shirts and leather jackets. Skinny jeans or leggings or skirts and tights. Dresses short enough to stop traffic. Red and pink and yellow and black. A bit of Archangel blue sometimes, too, these days.” She tugs on her light blue tie again. “Rook told me I looked like a ‘punk rock supermodel’ once. Nicest thing he’s ever said to me.”
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23. What’s one food that tempts you?
“Gabriel bakes the best fuckin’ cookies you will ever eat. There is a small chance I fell for those cookies before I fell for him.”
24. Am I annoying you?
She waves a dismissive hand. “Nah. I’ll take any excuse to talk about myself.”
25. Well, it’s still not over!
She smiles that knife-sharp grin again and runs her tongue over her bottom lip. “So when do I get to ask you questions, sweetheart? I’ll make it worth your time.” 
26. What class are you (low/middle/high)?
She tilts her head to one side thoughtfully. “Y’know, I have no fuckin’ idea. I live in a pretty swanky apartment right now, but I don’t own it. I have a decent amount of money squirreled away, but most of it’s stolen. All of the above, I guess. I’m a homeless kid who lives in the penthouse suite.”
27. How many friends do you have?
She stops to think for a second. “Fourteen.” She looks surprised and clearly is counting them again in her head. “Wow. Fourteen. Huh. You know, two months ago the answer to that question was ‘one.’ Even if we’re just talking close friends, the answer’s still eight. I’m not… I got no idea what to say to that.”
28. What are your thoughts on pie?
“I prefer cake, but I don’t mind pie either. Just don’t ask me to bake one. And if I do, I don’t recommend you eat it.”
29. Favorite drink?
“Tea with milk and sugar. Pretty sure it’s Mouse’s fault. That’s how it works, right? Blame your tea-drinking habits on your British friends.” She laughs lightly. “I’ve got too many fuckin’ British friends.”
30. What’s your favorite place?
“I like Father Murdock’s. I like the juxtaposition of it all. Church upstairs, black market downstairs. Nuns carrying AKs. It’s just ridiculous enough that it almost doesn’t seem real.” She sighs and her smile slips a little. “Favorite place used to be the Mill, but I guess we can’t go back there now. Gotta find a new base of operations.”
31. Are you interested in anyone?
“Why, you hopin' you got a shot?” She looks you over slowly, a playful smirk spreading across her face. “I mean, you've already asked me if I was 'taken'. Since I am, it obviously means I'm interested in someone. Or are you asking if I'm interested in someone else?” 
She stops to really think about it. “These days, I'm surrounded by a lot of gorgeous, interesting people. People that, in a different situation, I’d probably be real interested in. But if Gabriel's in the room, the rest of the world may as well not exist. He’s magnetic. It doesn’t make sense for a man to be so goddamn attractive when the only part of him not covered is his eyes and even that’s only sometimes, but I know I’m not the only one drawn to him. I’m just the lucky one.” She chuckles, and that fond smile is back, the same one she wore last time she spoke about Gabriel. “I always thought that 'I only have eyes for you' thing was a bit sappy, but damn if it isn't true.”
32. That was a stupid question…
“Nah, don’t worry about it.” She waves it off like she’s already forgotten about it, then smirks at you again. “If you’re actually interested, though, I got a few friends I could introduce you to. We can talk about it later.”
33. Would you rather swim in a lake or the ocean?
“Ugh. I hate swimming. I’m not really a, uh, outdoorsy type.” She taps a fingernail against her bottom lip, thinking. “I guess a lake, if I had to choose. Less sharks and shit.”
34. What’s your type?
“You sure are askin’ a lot of questions about my love life, sweetheart. I guess it’s lucky for you that you caught me at a time I actually have one.” She chuckles and sits back in her chair, staring at the ceiling while she thinks. 
She’s quiet for a long moment, then leans forward suddenly, her pale blue eyes intense. “You know what’s the most attractive thing a person can have, regardless of gender? Competence. There is nothing sexier than someone who knows their shit and does it well. That confidence someone has when they’re really good at something and they know it.”
She sits back again, some of that intensity draining away. “I’ve never had anything specific physically that draws my attention. Lucky for Gabriel, I guess, since I was already long in love with him before I really saw any of him. He’s got real good shoulders, though, y’know? Broad. Strong. Stubborn.” She laughs at the last one.
35. Any fetishes?
“Dunno. Most of my sexual experience has been pretty vanilla so far. Might be fun to find out.”
36. Camping or outdoors?
“No thanks. I did enough sleepin’ outside when I was homeless for a few months. No way in hell I'm sleeping outside on purpose. I’d prefer a roof over my head, if it’s all the same to you.”
She waits for you to ask another question, but when you don’t she just nods. “All right, good talk. This was fun.” She stands from her chair and straightens out her suit, then offers you a hand to shake. Her handshake is strong and confident, her skin warm. “You need to find me again, go see Father Murdock. Tell Greg you’re lookin’ for Raphael. He knows how to get in touch.” She walks away, steps fast and purposeful and almost silent, and you follow her outside.
She pulls a black ski mask out of her pocket and puts it on, covering her face except for her eyes and mouth and tucking her hair underneath it, then pulls that hockey mask out again and puts it on over it. She takes out a pair of black leather gloves and pulls them on too. When she looks back at you, there’s no sign of the woman underneath except for the pale blue eyes; if you hadn’t just been talking with her, you’re not sure you’d even know she was a woman, the suit and masks erasing any signs of personality or identity.
She waves jovially. “If I were you, I’d find someplace to lay low for a little while,” she says, and even her voice is different: colder, harder, her slight New York accent gone like it had never been there. “It’s not safe around here at this time of day. All kinds of dangerous people around.”
As if on cue, a black SUV pulls up nearby. The passenger-side front window rolls down and the back door opens. Inside, there are four other people wearing the same black suit and blue tie, their faces all covered by hockey masks. There seems to be no theme or color scheme among the masks. You wonder if any of them are the Gabriel that she spoke so highly of.
“Heya, boss,” a friendly, Welsh-accented voice calls from the front passenger seat. “You get what ya needed?”
Liv doesn’t reply, instead just pulling herself smoothly into the open seat in the back next to one very large man in body armor with a shotgun in his lap and one very small man with an open laptop in his. They both nod at her as she sits down, and she puts a friendly hand on the smaller man’s shoulder. He must be Mouse, you assume.
The driver calls out to you, and he also has a Welsh accent. “Might be best to forget you ever saw us.”
“And ya best hope you never see us again,” says the front passenger. Her accent and cadence of speaking are so similar to the driver’s you’re pretty sure they’re related.
Liv nods to you once more, then closes her door. You see the large man hand her what you’re pretty sure is some type of submachine gun. The driver gives you a jaunty salute and then they drive away. 
You stare into the space where the SUV had been for a long moment. You should probably ask your boss for a raise; there’s no way you’re getting paid enough to interview Archangels.
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insatiabletc · 4 years
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This is Papi Edwards, a 20 year old person from Indianapolis, Indiana. Since their murder, it has been unclear whether Papi identified as a man or woman at the time of their death and there has been confusion on what their pronouns are. To cover all bases, Papi will be referred to in this piece with they/them pronouns. Additionally, you may be wondering why we chose this specific image of Papi to draw. While there is another image of Papi on the internet showing them with long hair and makeup it is a mugshot. Because the police in this case have been so dismissive of Papi and their gender, we wanted to select an image that Papi had control over. This is the only image we could find that Papi took themselves.  
It has been hard to find information about who Papi really was – their likes, dislikes, personality, dreams, and hopes. Outside of this one chaotic and tragic event, Papi seems currently unknown to the internet. We can say for certain, though, that Papi had friends, a family, and people who miss them. They were a human being.
Whether or not Papi identified as a man or a woman, their gender queerness did play a role in the events surrounding their murder. While the timeline of events is confusing, the transphobia of the Louisville Kentucky police force bleats out amid the noise. Even if Henry Gleaves didn’t expressly say “your gender identity is why I am going to kill you,” it likely did impact the police investigation. Please remember as you read the following details that Papi was a complex individual, just like you.
According to an article in Yes! Magazine, “The Human Rights Campaign has estimated that trans women are 4.3 times more likely to become homicide victims than all women, and the vast majority of the victims are Black”* Since 2016, the number of trans women of color who have been murdered has increased.
The Facts of the Case
On January 9th, 2015, Papi Edwards and several friends stopped in at a hotel in Louisville Kentucky, to earn some money before completing their journey back to Indianapolis, Indiana. Papi posted an ad on a website advertising sex services and Henry Gleaves responded, and the two arranged to meet up at the hotel. In the ad, Edwards suggested they were a woman.
Gleaves told his family that he was headed to the hotel to apply for a job. Once at the hotel, Gleaves and Edwards, accompanied by Edwards’ friends, went into a hotel room and Gleaves gave Edwards $50 for a blowjob. Shortly after, Edwards’ friends left the room. Once the blowjob commenced, Gleaves “found out” that Edwards was trans. Gleaves became upset and Edwards’ friends came back into the hotel room.
The defense says that Edwards and their friends attacked and mocked Gleaves, hit him with a sock full of heavy cans, and robbed him of his car keys and his cash.
The prosecution says there is no evidence of a robbery or assault.
Gleaves left the hotel room and went to his car to grab a gun. He then returned to the front desk to continue filling out his job application. It is unclear where Edwards or their friends were at this point. After a bit of time, Gleaves saw Edwards and friends go through the lobby and into the parking lot.
The defense says Gleaves wanted to take down their license plate number to give to authorities.
The prosecution and witnesses say that Gleaves was waiting in the lobby to ambush them.
Gleaves yelled at the group, and seeing Gleaves, Edwards tossed car keys (it is not specified if these are Gleaves’ keys) to a friend and turned back with a sock full of cans to face Gleaves and began to enter the lobby. Gleaves shot Edwards multiple times and fled the scene.
Four days after the shooting, Gleaves was found hiding in his girlfriend’s closet. After his initial arrest, Gleaves called his girlfriend and asked her to destroy evidence on his phone. How do the police know this? Because it was a call from jail the conversation was recorded.
In 2016, Gleaves was found guilty of manslaughter, as the jury felt his shooting of Edwards was done in some sort of self-defense.
Self Defense
We always feel a little icky questioning self-defense, as we are aware of how complicated self-defense can be. However, there are so many lingering questions about this case, and we wish we could have seen the trial transcript for ourselves. Unfortunately, documents are not available to the public as far as we can tell.
So, here are our big questions:
·       The defense painted Edwards’ sock of cans as a menacing tool for robbery. Another interpretation is that Edwards used this as self-defense when meeting with unknown clients. Based on how dangerous sex work can be, we find that to be plausible. Why is Gleaves’ gun only interpreted as a method of self-defense and not a menacing tool for murder?
·       If Gleaves followed the group out to the parking lot to “get their license plate number” to report them to authorities…why didn’t he call 911 immediately? Sources do not say how long he spent filling out that application and getting his gun from his car, but it seems like enough time would have passed for him to call the authorities. We understand that calling the police is not always a safe option for people of color, but he was planning on calling them anyway! Was he thinking that he would report the crime anonymously later? We think that actually could make sense, as maybe Gleaves was worried about being prosecuted for engaging in prostitution.
·       Why didn’t he report the robbery to the front desk? Were there people at the front desk? Did he have to request the job application from a human? Maybe he really did want a job at the hotel and thought the whole event would taint his chances at being hired. Though, Gleaves did tell authorities that he just filled out the application to keep up appearances for his family.
It appears that there are a couple of points in the timeline where Gleaves was ramping up the conflict. If he wanted to get the group’s license plate number to later report the robbery, why did he yell? He could have quietly watched what car they got into and jotted down the number. It seems like Gleaves was instigating a response from Edwards.
 The Investigation & Dwight Mitchell
Dwight Mitchell was (and is) the spokesperson for the Louisville Kentucky police force. Here are some quotes from Mitchell on Papi Edwards:
“As far as I am concerned, that was a man that was shot. It was always a man…It’s obviously a man, right? He doesn’t have a female name. I am not going to get into a debate about if he was transgender or not.”
Mitchell also referred to being trans as a “condition.” **
Why does Mitchell’s opinion on Edwards’ gender matter?
If you are someone who feels well represented and respected by your local authorities, imagine if that local authority’s spokesperson denied and mocked your existence. Imagine asking for help from an organization that says your identity is a “condition.” Imagine how alienating that would be. This is a message, intentional or not, to trans people that they are not seen. That their reality is denied and denigrated. This matters because Papi was a sex worker, and sex workers are already operating with the assumption that the police are not there to help them. When members of society feel that they cannot trust its institutions, they become more vulnerable to those that society does accept. Our words and how we use them matter, especially when speaking as the voice for many.
When Edwards’ murder was first being investigated, a witness told authorities point-blank that Edwards was murdered because they were trans. The witness said Edwards was shot directly after saying “I’m a tranny.”*** Despite this information, Louisville police not only refused to say it was a hate crime (we’ll explore that in a second) but also refused to say Edwards was trans and that gender was a factor in their murder. Even though they had a witness telling them that was the motive. In fact, video was leaked to the media of a witness explaining this clearly to an officer and the officer verbally affirming that he understood the witness to be saying that Edwards’ gender was key in the murder. This video was taken before Mitchell uttered the above quotes.
Why wouldn’t the police bureau admit gender was a factor in the crime? In a Buzzfeed article about the case, it was mentioned that Kentucky lacks a hate crime law that covers gender. Maybe officers were trying to paint a specific picture of the crime for better prosecution? What doesn’t make sense though, is that a hate crime does not need to occur for a murder to be prosecuted. So why shy away from and deny the gender aspect of the murder?
We are dismayed that Mitchell is still acting as a spokesperson for the Louisville police department and we were unable to ascertain whether his views of gender have changed. For the good of the Louisville community, we hope so.
*taken from this article: https://www.yesmagazine.org/social-justice/2019/11/12/black-trans-women-pay/
**Quotes taken from this article:  https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/dominicholden/evidence-contradicts-police-account-of-possible-anti-transge#.wcNq26PaR 
***Why didn’t we include this information in the timeline? Well, this witness later changed their story about the events once the case got to trial. It is included here, however, as the authorities did not know the timeline at the start of the investigation.
 Want to Learn More about Missing and Murdered Trans Women of Color? Here are some great sources that we have come across:
·        The Trans Obituaries Project: Honoring the Trans Women of Color Lost in 2019 (USA - obituaries written by Raquel Willis, illustrations done by Jacob Stead): https://www.out.com/print/2019/11/20/trans-obituaries-project-honoring-trans-women-color-lost-2019#media-gallery-media-1
·        The Human Rights Campaign: https://www.hrc.org/blog/topic/transgender
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jokertrap-ran · 5 years
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BAD MEDICINE ~Infectious teachers~ [PC GAME] Tojo Kairi (Art) Route Translations (Part 15)
MC’s name is retained as the original MC name Kawana Hina.
* Words within ‘   ‘ are spoken in English – *Spoiler free : Translations under cut!
Prologue / Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4/ Part 5 / Part 6/ Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15 / Part 16 / Part 17 / Part 18 / Doll END / Good END / Bad END / True END / Ruin END
Choice A: Learn about the school’s history
Hina: (I face Tojo-sensei's strict teachings everyday after school.)
Hina: (Not only does he tutor me in my studies, he also bestows a variety of knowledge across all fields to me.
Hina: ………...
Hina: (It’s depressing but I have to go.)
Tojo: --So you’re finally here?
Tojo: Come now, take a seat beside me.
Tojo: I'll teach you about St.Christopher's history today.
Hina: I see.
Tojo: Fufu, take a look at this. I've taken out the graduation albums just for today.
Hina: |(Wow. What an amazing amount he has with him!)
Tojo: Let's start with the first album from the very first batch of students we had.
Tojo: Just like I told you the other day, the very first president of this school was also a member of the Tojo family.
Tojo: The date in which the president was appointed is written over here.
Tojo: I remember all the presidents up till now, including the date they took office as well as the very date in which they retired.
Hina: All of them!?
Tojo: Of course, I'll have you remember them all as well.
Hina: All of this? That's rather...Impossible.
Tojo: There will be no such thing. Let’s learn them together, one by one.
Tojo: The first ever president took presidency for 15 years. Starting from the 1st of April till the 26th of July. And the second president...
Tojo: ………...
Tojo: Now that I’ve explained the basis of it all, would you care to tell me when the very first president took office and when it was that he decided to retire from his position of headmaster?
Hina: ...Wha?
Hina: (I didn’t think that he’d shoot me a question out of a sudden…)
Tojo: Fufu. I believe that you should naturally know the answer to this question. For I have just taught you everything so painstakingly.
Hina: (I don’t think I can answer that since I wasn’t consciously trying to remember everything that he just spouted off on…)
Hina: I apologize for I do not know...
Tojo: You don’t…?
Tojo: Not even a single one?
Hina: ...Not even a single one.
Tojo: Unbelievable.
Tojo: You’re telling me that you can't even remember something as simple as this?
Hina: ...I’m sorry...
Tojo: I do ask that you  don’t make a habit of disappointing me like that.
Hina: (What am I doing? I should have been paying close attention to engrave everything to memory!)
Tojo: I should be the one feeling downtrodden about it rather than you though.
Tojo: I see that all you’ve done is to sit there and listen whilst I’ve gone through the effort of painstakingly explaining every minute detail.
Tojo: I was even thinking of praising you if you did answer my question correctly, perhaps with a pat on the head, even.
Tojo: What a pity.
Tojo: Now then, from the top.
Tojo: Please do try to answer the next question.
Hina: I’ll remember it this time.
Tojo: The first president took office from--...
Tojo: ...Fufu, you’re showing quite a nice expression there now that you’re actually concentrating.
Hina: (Well, I wouldn’t be able to answer any of your questions if I didn’t concentrate.)
Tojo: The sight of human ambition is really enthralling to behold.
Tojo: There’s no light to someone who lives monotonously out of habit and that isn’t a beautiful sight in the slightest.
Tojo: Your eyes are like burning twin coals right now, almost as if you’re escaping from something that’s chasing you with all your might. Haa...That’s really beautiful!
Tojo: You should have learnt quite a bit about our school’s history by now, yes?
Hina: Yes.
Tojo: Don’t throw everything to the wind just because you’ve got it down now.
Tojo: Who knows, I might spring another test on you on a whim.
Tojo: Now then, onto the next topic.
Tojo: I still have a feeling that you’ve not gotten a firm grasp about our school rules. How about we go through it together and check on your understanding?
Hina: That’s...
Tojo: If you’re so adamant about it then how about you try reciting all of the school rules to me right now?
Hina: {I’ve been bringing the student handbook around together with me as much as possible ever since I got roped into special guidance back then.)
Hina: (And since all the school rules are written inside the student handbook…)
Tojo: Hold up. You’re prohibited from looking at the student handbook for answers.
Hina: What? Why?
Tojo: Fufu...That’s simple. You shouldn’t be needing the student handbook if you’ve memorized them all by heart.
Tojo: It doesn’t matter how many school rules there are. They're ultimately rules that cannot be broken no matter what, so isn't it a given that you'd memorize them?
Hina: ………...
Tojo: Oh? Seems like the cat got your tongue.
Tojo: Could it be that you don't know what you shouldn't be doing if you don't cross-check it with the student handbook.
Tojo: That's a big problem.
Tojo: If that how it is, then, wouldn't you be unknowingly violating the school rules?
Hina: Of course not!
Tojo: I'd be worried even if you trust to deny it.
Hina: …...
Hina: (Oh no...I'll only disappoint him at this rate!)
Hina: (I can't meet his expectations…)
Tojo: Did that make you feel uneasy? But the fact that you feel uneasy about this whole thing only proves that you're aware of it, at least.
Tojo: Your hand seems to be shaking.
Tojo: I wonder if it'll stop if I wrap them in my own, like this?
Hina: ……!
Tojo: I'll return back to the topic of manners so please do keep in mind the fact that you're supposed to prevent your mind from wandering.
Tojo: I do think that you're pretty adorable now, akin to a small animal, but...
Tojo: You look much more beautiful when you're calm and composed. I guess that's a human aspect of yours, one that draws people in.
Tojo: You’ll be alright. I’m sure that you’ll be able to pull it off.
Tojo: I’m here for you too, see?
Hina: R-Right.
Tojo: Oh yes, how about we fix that sitting posture of yours now that we’re at it?
Tojo: Your back’s a little curved. I’ll hold down your shoulders for you so this is how  they should be...
Tojo: Pull your jaw back slightly, have confidence and puff out your chest a little.
Hina: Like this?
Tojo: Yes, that’s brilliant.
Tojo: You should rest your hands on your knees while you’re sitting down.
Tojo: Just doing this alone will make you look more imposing and elegant.
Tojo: You have to pay close attention to everything, from your toes all the way to your fingertips itself.
Tojo: It’s always good to think of yourself as a work of art and be aware of all the eyes that may fall on you.
Tojo: In fact, you’re going to be in the center of everyone’s attention from now on.
Tojo: I’m sure that everyone’s breath will be stolen the moment they lay eyes on you, unable to tear their gaze away.
Tojo: Fufu...I really can’t wait for the time that happens.
Tojo: Let’s put some practice into your walk too. Please stand.
Hina: Right.
Tojo: The basics are exactly the same as what I taught you earlier about how you should sit properly.
Tojo: People who can walk right are attractive and will make to be a beautiful picture to the eyes.
Tojo: Place more strength into your lower abdomen and level your gaze.
Tojo: Please watch out not to stiffen your upper body by putting too much strength into it.
Tojo: Please visualize a straight line in front of you and try walking along it.
Hina: (Walking along a imaginary straight line…)
Tojo: Your body’s core seems to be a little off.
Tojo: Here, I’ll support your lower back so give it another try.
Hina: …...
Tojo: That was a great attempt. Have you gotten a feel of it yet?
Hina: Somewhat, I guess.
Tojo: You’ll gradually get used to it eventually if you continue watching where you step on a daily basis.
Hina: Right, I’ll keep that in mind when walking.
Tojo: Fufu, I can’t imagine how you’d be in the future. I look forward to it.
Tojo: I don’t intend to pressure you. I’ll train you perfectly, using all the time you require to adapt.
Tojo: It’s about time to wrap up.
Tojo: I can’t have you staying past the school dismissal time because of my lessons so how about we end off here for the day?
Hina: ...Of course.
Tojo: I’ll lock up the library so you can just pack up and leave first.
Hina: I’ll be taking my leave first then. Goodbye, Tojo-sensei.
Tojo: Goodbye, Kawana-san. Fufu...See you tomorrow.
Hina: ………...
Hina: (...I…)
Hina: (It’s almost as if I’m being controlled by him.)
Hina: (I can only comply to him...I can’t go against his words.)
Hina: (How long will this continue…?)
Hina: What should I do now?
Choice A: Learn about the school’s history Choice B: Go submit your reply
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lauren-scharf · 5 years
Text
The Mathematics of Memory
The Mathematics of Memory
An Imitation of Form of Eula Biss’ “The Pain Scale”
By Lauren Scharf
For Grandpa Will
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0---
An advanced fifth grade math class told me of the unique qualities of the number zero. Nothing can be divided by zero. There’s no way to carry out such an equation. I fantasized what it would be like if I could find a way.
 I am sitting on a plane to New York, preparing myself to be coddled by parents, grandparents, and cousins, who have been counting down the days until my visit, and they’ve finally reached zero.
 An underachiever in all other subjects, I excelled in math because of my ability to remember things through numbers, as though their values and patterns made up an alternative language.
 Can zero be divided by zero? I think of this and ask my high school A.P. Calculus teacher. Her quirky response explains that black holes are where God divided by zero. I immediately imagine writing zero over zero on the next exam, and watching the equation animate to a swirling vacuum that sucks the surrounding scribbles and equations inside, leaving a blank page.
 In a deck of cards, there is no zero. Each card has some worth. The closest suitable are the Jokers, which belong to no suit and are commonly discarded before a game is dealt.
 The New York excursion is for my youngest cousin’s Bat Mitzvah, or “Bas Mitzvah,” as my Grandpa says it. It’s the last of this generation, and there is yet to be a Bar Mitzvah. Grandpa makes a regular joke at reunions like these. “Where are all the boys?” There are no grandsons. The Scharf family name stops here.
 Any number over itself is one, except the infuriating zero.
 ---1---
My sister taught me fractions when I was little. I didn’t ask her to. She also liked to correct and poke fun at my childish mispronunciations. “Count-culator” made sense to me for the purpose it served, as well as “Old-timers.”
 “It’s ‘Alzheimer’s,’ Lauren.” She had to write the word out for me before I caught my mistake.
 An ace holds a discontinuous value in a deck of cards. Aces high means eleven. Aces low means one.
 I was a year old when I took my first plane trip, once again to New York. I don’t remember a thing about it but home videos show the brown shag carpet and gold furniture in my grandparents’ house just as it all looks today. Nothing’s changed there.
 My grandpa taught me how to gamble. I was the only first grader to recognize the checkers pieces as poker chips.
 ---2---
My favorite children’s game was Memory: a deck of cards, usually with pictures if meant for a younger age, is set up in rows and columns, face down, and turned up two at a time in an attempt to find a match. I was unbeatable. My parents and their friends were so impressed by how quick I was to recall a pair and pick up techniques. “You have to pick up the one you think it is before the one you’re sure of,” I would tip-off to my opponent.
 Grandpa’s game is called 31. Much like 21 but with an extra card in each hand. Players take turns picking a card from the deck and discarding; if the top of the discard pile follows suit of the next player’s hand, they may pick that card instead, but forfeit the secrecy of their suit in hand.
 The higher the card number, the higher its value. Face cards are ten. Aces are high.
 No one ever picks a two from the discard pile. It’s not worth the risk, not to mention the subsequent mockery from other players.
 “A deuce for my favorite Grandpa!” One of my favorite things about 31 is playing just ahead of my Grandpa so I can discard all of my worst and lowest cards, simply to catch the looks on his face.
 Grandpa has my eyes; or I suppose I have his. They light up and widen when we’re caught by surprise, but squint into slits when we smile, more so if we’re laughing. His eyes are a little more hidden among wrinkles and behind a thick pair of bifocals.
 Memory storage is marked by two stages: long term and short term. It’s difficult to draw a line between the two. How long is long and how short is short? My understanding is that the long term is for the firsts. First kiss, first pet, first day of kindergarten. While short term is for the lasts. Last night, last Tuesday, last book you read.
 In one of her first games of 31, my sister jumped from the table and shouted “Thirty-two! Thirty-two!” She was convinced she had two aces of the same suit.  
 Thirty-one is the highest score you can get in 31 (fittingly). An ace and two tens, all one suit. This hand ends the round instantly and every player but the holder of 31 surrenders a chip to the middle. A player can also end the round by knocking with what they believe to be the highest hand, or at least not the lowest. The lowest hand must pay up.
 My sister had two aces alright. One, hearts, the other, diamonds. We made her pay double.
 ---3---
Some experts separate memory storage into three stages, adding the “Sensory stage” to long term and short term. The sensory stage acts as a filter to determine what information will pass into short term, and perhaps eventually long term, or if it will be stored at all.
 Information is only in this stage for a flash of a second, like an exposure to film. That kind of information, however, is preserved through a different medium.
 One of my first vivid memories is of a day in preschool when my mom was late picking me up. I couldn’t tell time but I knew when the hands formed an “L” pointing to the number three, my mom was due to walk through the door.
 This was most likely not the first time she ran behind, but it was the first time I noticed. I developed a tickle in my throat, and as the angle of that “L” turned more acute, the tickle progressed to more of a scratch. I wanted my mommy. At three years old, this was the first time I would recognize a common sickness coming over me.
 My family took a trip to Rhode Island when I was three. My mom had to tell me that; I had no recollection of being in Rhode Island. To me it was just another trip to the east coast to see family. When on the beach I saw my grandpa’s jolly sized belly and asked why he had an inny belly button while I had an outty. He told me it was to make a nice home for the spiders that lived in there. That, I remember.
 The most infuriating hand to pick up in 31 is three tens, each a different suit. Thirty points altogether yet the hand is valued only at ten. The first card I pick up from the deck determines what I’m collecting. A couple times, this has been a fourth ten of the remaining suit. At some point, I’ll have no choice but to discard a high card, reluctantly assisting my opponents.
 ---4---
I’m not the best at Memory anymore. Ever since a childhood friend became the first to beat me, I’ve been on something of a cognitive decline. We lost touch years ago, but I remember her birthday was four days before mine.
 Many fail to see the pattern in dates, which are frequently the first details to fade from memory, despite that each presents its own reminder in the form of a reoccurring anniversary.
 They also separate into four seasons.
 All of the cousins and I were born in summer; six birthdays fitting perfectly from late June to early September.
 Memory retrieval in the human mind is broken up into four common components: verbal recall, aural recall, visual recall, and tactile recall.
 Retrieval through speaking, retrieval through hearing, retrieval through seeing, and retrieval through touching or writing.
 Numerical recall is perhaps too rare or vague to classify.
 Grandpa’s birthday is in March. My dad says he’s 88 years old, but I don’t think he’s remembering correctly. Like father, like son.
 The four suits of a traditional deck of playing cards are spades, clubs, diamonds, and hearts.
 These suits originated from the French style of playing cards and, while not the first, they were the cheapest to manufacture, and thus the most popular.
 Other countries alter, slightly, the name and appearance of certain suits. For instance, clubs are acorns in Germany and Italo-Spanish or Latin decks have cups in lieu of hearts. These discrepancies are mostly found in cartomancy, or tarot cards.
 Whatever the icon, each suit follows a pattern rooted in the feudal system: Spades for nobility, clubs for peasants, diamonds for merchants, and hearts for members of the clergy.
 The suits also consistently associate with riches and romance, adversity and agriculture. Can you find each match?
 The four elements, earth, water, fire, and air tie into the four suits as well, though this pattern is more obscure and it is arguable which suit belongs to which element.
 ---5---
When my dad told me of the changes in conversation with my grandpa, how he asks the same questions every five minutes, I shrugged it off as a natural consequence of aging. I’ll believe it when I hear it for myself.
 My memory runs on aural recall.
 Some card decks hold five different suits, the fifth tying in the classical element Aether, a void or space, dark matter, pertaining to the space above the terrestrial sphere.
 In mythology, Aether is the open sky where only the gods live and the pure air which only the gods breathe; heaven.
 Aristotle names Aether as the fifth element but noted that it lacked the qualities of the other four in that it could be neither hot, cold, wet, nor dry, and its only recordable change was in density.
 Much like a black hole.
 An estimated 5 million Americans suffer from Alzheimer’s disease. By 2050, the number is expected to hit 13.4 million.
 ---6---
Almost 60% of Americans think Alzheimer’s is genetic.
 Like eyes, or a smile, or a family name.
 No matter how random they may seem in the world of arithmetic, numbers consistently go hand in hand with formula. Strategy requires such a pattern to ease the task of memorization. This is how some people are able to memorize Pi to a thousand digits, if they really have the time and patience to do so.
 My sixth grade locker combination was 24-6-42. Two plus four equals six minus four equals two.
 The combination of my locker in 12th grade is a blur.
 ---7---
Seven is my lucky number, which sounds very cliché, but I picked it for my favorite month, which has my birthday, July. The 10th of July if you’d like to remember it.
 Seventeen is my sister’s lucky number, chosen, I think, for the day her birthday falls on. But then her name also has seventeen letters. Then again so does mine.
 Therapies show that keeping the brain engaged with patterns and puzzles delays (though does not prevent) memory loss and confusion.
 All these years Grandpa was teaching the family how to gamble, I should have explained to him the grids and patterns and tips and tricks I found in Memory.
 Just a reminder, my birthday is the 10th of July. Seven/ten. Seven plus ten is seventeen. Seventeen letters are in my name. If you didn’t remember it before, perhaps you will now.
 ---8---
Alzheimer’s starts in patients when certain forms of the gene apolipoprotein E, or ApoE, promote the formation of an abnormal amyloid precursor protein, or APP. APP clumps together to form plaques that break down tau proteins, whose purpose it is to stabilize a neuron’s structural integrity. Once broken down, the neuron dies, leaving a hole that disrupts the electrical signals traveling among the nerve.
 Much like a black hole.
 Tau ÷ (APP × ApoE) = x over zero. I found it.
 When film is overexposed, it processes as a white, almost heavenly void or space.
 Not only is there no cure for Alzheimer’s, but there’s also no way to test absolutely positive for the disease until an autopsy is performed. I think that’s a bit too late.
 Unlike a three year old with a sore throat, my Grandpa is 88, give or take, and he doesn’t know if he’s sick.
 Screenings, recall tests, and family member reports promise 80 to 90 percent accuracy.
 It’s getting there.
---9---
I once read about a photographer who developed a journal documenting the final three years of his father’s life. The old man lacked all short term memory storage and would ask his son over and over where his mother was, as though no one told him of her death.
 Tired of watching his father’s heart break again and again, the photographer joined the game of pretend, and told his father she’d simply gone to Paris to join the circus. The pretending continued until the father’s death at ninety-nine.
 Once parties and brunches that follow the very last Bat Mitzvah die down, the family finally gets a chance to crowd around the kitchen table for a good old game of 31.
 “Where are all the boys?” He asks this more and more these days. I want to think that he believes it’s funnier with repetition, but part of me wonders if maybe he doesn’t remember asking just minutes before. Another part wonders, and worries, if he’s really not sure of whether or not he has grandsons.
 They’ve gone to Paris and joined the circus, Grandpa.
 ---10
Grandpa knocks with the confident gambler’s attitude he’ll probably always have.
 The family each takes one last turn before we reveal our hands.
 Grandpa has three tens; thirty. However his hand is only worth ten. He’s forgotten the suits.
 This game, this last game, goes in my long term memory.
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blankdblank · 5 years
Text
Secret Scarves Pt 27
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“He’s cheating on you you know.” The snarky comment came from a blonde as you walked into Thranduil’s class drawing a defeated sigh from the Professor.
In a playful giggling tone you asked, “Really? Can’t imagine how he’d have the time.”
Thranduil’s eyes shifted to you as she raised a brow, “I have it on good authority your boyfriend and Professor Greenleaf are having an affair. Where is your Son?”
A giggle came from you, “Again, highly doubtful. My Brother is home with my Cousin.”
Her brows tightened and she crossed her arms saying, “They spent the weekend up at the Ski Resorts up in Moria.”
You giggled again as Fili and Kili joined your sides as you said, “It’s supposed to be a surprise for my Brother. Frerin promised to send me pictures, wanted to take Jax to the Mountains.”
Her lips parted and she pulled out her phone and relayed the message as you turned flashing Thranduil a subtle wink he tried not to show his pleased smirk as he planted his chin in his hand, leaning forward onto his podium watching you trot up to your seat. 
In a deep inhale he rose again to start his lesson, ignoring the pings of phones in his classroom lasting the rest of the day. With Dwalin and Thorin’s classes over and them on their way to read through the set of essays that had been due you smirked parking in your spot and made your way up to your apartment. Collapsed on the couch Frerin had his notes for his Wednesday lesson, a shift of his foot when you passed by the end of the couch it was propped up on as he flipped the page.
In a teasing tone you said, “You little hussy.”
In a shift of his notebook his eyes met yours with an amused raised brow, “What exactly have I done now?”
His eyes watched as you climbed over his leg and sat with your legs crossed over his middle earning an amused smirk from him, “Dew Drop called Thorin Warthog, now half the school is saying he called him Sweet Cheeks.”
“And?” He set his notebook on his chest propping an arm behind his head.
“A Cousin of one of the girls at school spotted Dew Drop and Thorin on the ride back to the jet, I was asleep in the back.”
“Ah, so it’s me and Thran. Not the worst rumor about us, jetting off to the mountains.”
You rolled your eyes, “They wouldn’t let up so I said I asked for pictures for a trip for Jax.”
Making him smirk again, his arm shifted to grip your legs and give them a gentle pat, “So, why the snuggling?”
“I, have a favor to ask.”
His brow twitched up again through a smirk, “Let me guess, no flirting with Thran to make things worse?”
You shook your head, “No. It um, it’s a bit strange but please hear me out.”
He nodded, “Of course. I’m listening.”
After a glance at your clasped hands on your lap you met his eye again, “You live and work in Moria, and I have a Cousin. She just got out of a bad divorce and got a job in a Museum out there.” He nodded again, “Thing is, there’s a gala, and her ex is going to be there and she’s required to go too.”
Frerin, “She needs a chaperone. When?”
“Two weeks. I know it’s strange..”
“It’s not. I understand. So does she know she’s being set up?”
“She asked if I knew anyone. At first I thought Boromir might be able to go but he’s got to focus on some projects coming out soon and he’s busy, I doubt Dwalin would be up for it..”
“You’d be wrong with that, why me? Worried Thran and Thorin would fall for her?”
With a nip at your lip you pulled out your phone and found her picture you showed to him, “Teanna.” Shifting his eyes to the picture his lips parted at your blonde haired counterpart beside you on a park bench with one silvery blue eye and the other a pale lilac with a toddler in her arms identical to her, “And her Daughter Aletta.”
He looked you over curiously, “You look like twins mostly.”
“We look like our Gran, you should see her Mom, could pass for mine too.” His eyes scanned over your face, “Thankfully Jax and I took after Gran not our Parents. Will you? Thorin mentioned you live near Falcon square, a few blocks from her job, you look after me, I thought maybe you could be friends, keep an eye on her too possibly when you get tired of playing my beard.”
An easy smile spread on his face moving the notebook to the floor as he sat up wrapping his arms around you pulling you to lay at his side making you giggle and rest your head on his shoulder, “I am never going to get tired of protecting you. Does she have a place to stay?”
“She’s got a list she’s combing through.”
He nodded, “Send her a message, she can stay at mine.” Your chin rested on his arm and he turned his head to catch your eye, “It’s a huge duplex, three spare rooms, great security, plus, until I’m done out here it would save Balin from having to check in on the place. When does she move, I can help her.”
“Couple days, Faramir’s helped her pack the essentials it’s being shipped out for her.”
“Faramir? How well do you know him? Boromir doesn’t talk about his Brother much.”
You sighed laying your head down again making him peer at you curiously, “After my Parents died I sort of caused a fight between them. He’s not a bad guy, it just, we were young and it was stupid. Just, hurt feelings and over protective Boromir.”
“Well, whenever Teanna is going to move let me know, I’ll help her get settled and show her around.”
“Thank you.”
He let out a deep chuckle as you reached over him claiming his notebook to give it a peek, “No need, I’m certain we’re all curious to meet your Cousin Teanna and little Aletta.” His smirk grew as he eyed you flipping the page on his notes, “Besides, at least now we know what you’d look like as a blonde.” Making you giggle and roll your eyes, “She’s your age?”
“25. Married young.”
He nodded tightening his grip across your back, “I’ll keep her safe.”
“I know.” He claimed his notebook and started to read through his notes with you, thankful you helped him set up his lesson. For the rest of the day you snuggled at his side leaving him to curl around you, even when he carried you to your bed. A firm grip on his arm led him to climb in behind you keeping his hold on you after your mumbled broken sentence about nightmares if you slept alone. Morning came and he left you to get ready in his own room as you did the same in yours, after the breakfast he made for you his smile inched back after hearing your explanation of it having been your Mother’s birthday. The day inched on and through to the end of school Frerin stayed by you until he joined Thorin and Dwalin out to a family dinner while Thranduil went to join Legolas at a dinner with Troy and Tallie. Their main reason for leaving you alone was the papers you had to finish for the next week.
.
Back in the apartment Frerin led Thorin inside making them glance around curiously for any sight of you. Their only clue was a note for Frerin taped up by the front light switch of your being called to help a family member and you’d be back as soon as you could manage. With a sigh Thorin tried to call and message without any luck, getting only messages your phone was out of service. Anxiously he stayed the night hoping to catch you in the morning only to have to head home, change and then race off to school. But through the day even Theoden, who was on his usual day off, was absent leaving them no clues where you could be when you had neglected to show up at all.
All the way until a group dinner was missed by you at Thranduil’s by all but Frerin, who had taken his usual collapsed position across his bed after the long day. Quietly he laid on the bed worrying about where you could be, at least until he looked at his chiming phone reading your message, “Could you help me carry something up?” In a race down to the parking lot he flew then froze when he saw what you needed help carrying.
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… Earlier that day …
A few hours before sunrise your eyes narrowed as you focused on your phone screen catching Faramir’s name pop up. Curiously you raised it to your ear, “Faramir?”
Through the line a pained breath was heard, “Hey Squeaky. I need a hand.”
Sitting up in bed you asked, “What’s wrong?”
Through the line you heard a muffled hospital announcement as he filled you in to where he was bringing you to your feet to tug on your jeans over your shorts. Socks, sneakers and a sweater were added quickly and you filled your pockets on your path out to your sub. A short drive later you were on a last minute flight out to Gondor. One cab drive later you were racing through the hospital up to the small private room with Teanna sleeping in the window bench with Aletta on her chest as Faramir inched up on the bed.
A soft smile flinched onto his face as you closed the door and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “Hey Squeaky.”
“You ok?
He nodded, “Yes. Bit worse for wear, but I’ll mend. Thank you for not telling Boromir or Father.”
You shook your head as his hand folded around yours on your lap with a sentimental glimmer in his eyes. “Dormo did this? I can’t believe you went after him, he’s massive.”
He nodded, “Good news is, he won’t be doing it again.” Your brow inched up, “Thought he might drop by, he had one of his assistants watching the house when we packed up. Let her stay at Hamma’s with his Brothers staying up while I crashed at hers to keep an eye on it until the keys were passed off to the realtor. Car pulled up, door was kicked in, cops called. I ducked and Dormo started swinging at the cops, assaulting and attempted murder on an officer will certainly make the charges stick this time.”
With a nod you glanced from his hand then shifted on the bed meeting his eye to say, “I can’t thank you-. After how I ruined things.”
“You asked me out.”
“You didn’t feel the same.”
He cut you off, “I was an idiot.” Your lips parted, “Growing up, I was a jealous idiot and I hurt you. I couldn’t handle not being able to be there for you how Boromir was. I spent years away without being able to help you hide. It was excruciating to see you in pain, and I made things worse. I understand that, and it’s so painful knowing that I hurt you and that it’s taken this long and this for me to get a few moments alone with you to say it.”
“Fay-..”
“I wanted to go with you, to the film. But all my life that far I was always second to Boromir, and you loved him, and I hated it. I didn’t want you to settle for me.”
“I wasn’t-..”
His hand patted yours, “I know you liked me, but you loved Boromir as badly as I loved you.” Your voice caught in your throat as the tear streaming down your cheek mirrored his, “Everyone loves him, who he is, just like you. Everyone loves you, can’t help it. I am sorry, I should have gone with you, should have just taken my chance, helped you see I could have loved you more than he ever could.” After a pausing chuckle he said, “None of this is your fault, mine entirely, and, I do thank you for trusting me with this.”
You nodded and his eyes scanned over your muddled expression as your mind raced, he asked, “How are you on that front? With Boromir?” You drew in a breath and he let out another weak chuckle as another tear streamed down his cheek after one slid down yours, “It’s ok. It’s a hard love to let go of. You love, and love and let it tear you apart. It shows, even to the point it terrifies you to even say it. I know, I’m the same way.” His eyes scanned over yours with a loving gaze, “I heard through Eowyn you’ve two boyfriends and a toy on the side until May, Squeaky.”
With a weak chuckle you brushed your cheek on your sweater coated shoulder, “It’s a bit strange. Still a bit rough on relationships.”
His eyes scanned over your courting ring before his hand rose to brush your hair back exposing your earring, “They have good taste. I am glad they are taking care of you.” His fingers lowered to wipe your other cheek dry, “What about the boy toy? Hear he’s blonde.”
Making you smirk, “Fili, he um.” Another tear rolled down your cheek he brushed away with his thumb, your voice wavered out, “He’s supposed to be my beard till May, but, I think he really cares about me.”
Faramir nodded and sat up with a pained groan settling his hand on your cheek stirring another set of tears from you as your lip quivered, “He loves you Squeaky. No doubt about that.” You nodded and tried to look down only to have him raise your chin again, “Don’t look down. The Moon turns away from no one, she shines-,”
“Bright and wild enough to enamor those free.”
He smiled wiping your cheek again, “Boromir’s always been the Sun, and you’ve always been the Moon. As hard as it is, no matter who, or how many you choose, the choice is yours. If you feel the same your boyfriends will agree to it, they clearly love you.” Your eyes scanned over him in a curiously pained glance, “No matter what, if you need me I’ll be there. It’ll blow over with Father, you’ll see, good things are coming for us.”
“Careful there, you might start rumors on moving the wedding up.” After a pause your lips parted to ask, “You’re moving it up?” he nodded and you whispered, “Babies?”
He nodded with a weak chuckle, “Babies. We certainly need more babies to bring us all together again.”
“When can I get you out of here?”
He smiled and kissed you on the cheek when you turned your head to look at the Doctor entering with the discharge papers and instructions for the stitches on his arm. In your path out to the waiting car Hamma had brought their things in, you shouldered most of his weight and giggled softly at Faramir’s mumbled comment, “Eowyn’s going to hate me for taking her out to the beaches coated in bruises. Wanted one last trip before it shows.”
“I’m certain she’ll understand.” You replied as you helped him in the back seat beside the car seat Aletta was being buckled into before Teanna took the front seat beside you in the middle seat beside Hamma for the ride to the airport. A short flight later you were back at your sub where Teanna was pleased you already had a car seat. With an anxious smile she looked out over the area on the path to your apartment, that made her smile wider when you pulled in and parked as she dialed Frerin’s number for you admiring his picture.
.
Bursting through the doors Frerin froze in place staring at the blondes beside you with bags on Teanna’s back while you helped Faramir to his feet. His groaning slumped halfway conscious figure drooped to your shoulder then was shifted to Frerin’s when he went to your side as you said, “Frerin, thank you, Faramir here is ready to drop.”
Firmly Frerin gripped him draping him across his shoulders and claimed two bags while you grabbed the last two, locked your car and guided them up as Frerin glanced at Teanna when she peered up at him curiously, he stated with a grin, “You must be Teanna.” His eyes scanned over Aletta affectionately, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
She smiled wider making him chuckle anxiously before peering at Faramir in his pained grumble, “When can I get down?”
You patted his thigh, “Couple minutes, nearly there Fay.”
Frerin glanced at you asking, “What happened? You took off, no word now Baby Brother’s all battered and bruised?”
Teanna answered drawing his eye, “My ex got the restraining order last week, his assistants have been watching me. Saw me packing, Fay let me stay at his friend’s and he kept an eye on the house so it didn’t get trashed. He kicked in the door, we got a call from the hospital.”
Frerin looked to you, “Why did he call you? Why not Boromir?”
Faramir, “Don’t call Bo! I’m fine!” He groaned again as he was carried through the front door.
Frerin smirked rumbling back, “You sure sound fine.” Faramir groaned again as he was carried into the living room to lay on the couch as Teanna went to lay down in Eomer’s room smiling to herself at Frerin’s wishing her good night with a spreading smile of his own that froze at his head turning back to you and your knowing brow rise. “What?”
You shook your head and set Faramir’s bags near him then covered him with a blanket saying, “Thank you. I’m going to go to bed.”
Faramir groaned as you pulled off his shoes helping him settle before Frerin shut off the lights softly saying, “Text your men, let them know you’re home.”
You nodded, “Thank you RinRin.” Making him chuckle to himself stealing another peak at Eomer’s closed bedroom door through the shifting of blankets sounding through the door.
In your shuffling out of the shower Frerin smirked eyeing the blonde in the kitchen in a baggy sweater and flannel pants then passed to the front door where he eyed the trio of Teachers alongside Boromir who walked through to the kitchen hoping to find you only to freeze when they spotted the blonde mess of curls on the head of the body facing away from them. Dwalin mumbled, “You’re blonde..”
In a curious turn Teanna grinned straight at Thorin, who blinked curiously as Thranduil’s eyes narrowed slightly taking in your doppelganger’s different colored eyes, “Frerin, how do you like your eggs?”
Over Thorin’s shoulder Frerin’s head popped into view making her lips part and glance between them as he replied, “Scrambled would be lovely, thank you.”
Boromir stepped closer to her around the island, “Teanna, what are you doing here?”
She tore her eyes from the Brothers as Frerin explained who she was to the teachers around him, “Dormo didn’t take the restraining order well.”
All eyes turned to her as Boromir asked, “Jaqi went to get you?”
She nodded only to have the men flinch at the loud thump and groan from the living room making them rush in to inspect. An audible gasp came from Boromir as he saw you in a tank top and jeans with still partially damp hair helping Faramir back onto the couch. With a weak chuckle he said, “Thanks Squeaky.”
You stepped back and Boromir sat beside his Brother looking him over, turning his bruised face asking, “What happened?”
Faramir swatted his hand away, “Oh come on. I can handle a few bruises and stitches.”
Boromir looked at you as you raised your damp towel from your shoulder to ruffle it through your hair some more, “Hey, I didn’t hit him.”
Boromir’s eyes narrowed and Dwalin stepped closer to you asking you, “You’re not hurt?”
You shook your head, smoothing your fingers through your hair as Thorin and Thranduil inched closer to you helping to untangle your hair and guide you to finish getting ready in your room through Frerin slipping into the kitchen to speak to Teanna as Boromir dug for what happened to Faramir. In your room a firm hand cupped your cheek as another rested around your side through Thorin’s fiery kiss soon followed by Thranduil after he picked a blouse for you to wear. Thorin then picked your shoes as Thranduil asked, “Why didn’t you message us? You’re gone a full day without any warning.”
“Sorry. It just happened out of the blue. I had to fly out, wait for him to be discharged then fly back again, forgot to charge my phone. I’m really sorry.”
With a set of sighs you were kissed and hugged by both of them, then pulled on your blouse and chosen heels claiming your bag on the way to breakfast where you eyed Teanna and her giggling conversation with Frerin that made Thorin lean in softly asking if you were alright with this, only to go silent as she eyed Faramir’s entrance with Aletta. The crying toddler was placed in her Mother’s arms when she left the table saying softly, “Ok, time to eat.” Heading for her room.
Curious glances came from around the table until you said, “She’s still weaning her off nursing.” Making them nod before you looked at Frerin asking, “You look cozy.”
Frerin smirked, “Getting to know my new tenant.”
You nodded, “Mhmm.” Making him send you a playful glare.
Thranduil, “Tenant?”
“Teanna got a new job at a museum in Moria.”
Frerin, “She needs a place to stay and Balin is growing tired of dropping in at mine. It’s large enough and has great security.”
Thorin, “And the flirting?”
Frerin glanced at you and you answered, “Mmm. That’s on me. I asked him to keep an eye out.”
Dwalin, “Why?”
Frerin, “I can be nice.” His eyes narrowed at them, “I live in Moria, she is moving to Moria, Jaqi’s family and we need to look out for family. Dis and Vili are there too, even they will be dropping in to bring her in closer in our circle and you know it.”
Faramir groaned reaching for another slice of toast then said, “Besides, he knows she just got out of a bad divorce, he wouldn’t dare have Jaqi come after him if he hurt her. You don’t want to be on the wrong end of that slap.” Making Frerin smirk in a glance at you.
Shortly after the doorbell rang making the lights flicker drawing you to your feet to answer it and claim Jax’ crashing hug before he smiled at Teanna and her Daughter that giggled when she saw him. Happily he climbed on Faramir’s lap enjoying his breakfast as you and the teachers all filed out into the hall leaving him with pecks on the forehead and Boromir stayed for a bit longer to speak with Faramir and take Jax to school. Climbing in your sub with you Thranduil and Thorin both looked at you and Thranduil asked, “You’re alright with Frerin flirting with her?”
You let out a sigh, “We were talking the other day. She needed a date to a gala for work, her ex was going to be there. Her ex beat her. She had to get a restraining order and fought to get full custody of Aletta. He is attractive,” You glanced at Thorin in the passenger seat, “Same way you are, he’s also protective same as you all. Couple days back he offered to let her stay at his place. I don’t know how it’s going to go but if she likes him she likes him, I can’t control that.”
Thranduil chuckled softly, “You never mentioned she looked so much like you.”
Thorin, “A warning would have been nice.”
You glanced at him raising a brow, “Oh, like you warning me about your identical Brother.”
Making him chuckle lowly, “Point taken.”
“We take after our Gran.”
Thranduil smiled leaning forward kissing your shoulder, “How long is she staying with you?”
“Depends on when Frerin can show her his place and we can help her move in. She does start work in a couple weeks, she just might want to hang out a few days with us first.”
Thorin chuckled, “I’m certain Frerin won’t mind.” With a smirk you pulled into the University parking lot and spotted Legolas who rushed over to claim a concerned hug the young Durins jumped in on wrapping you tightly in their arms as you explained what had happened. But it wasn’t until your lunch break that Teanna finished her walk with a stop in to share your break in classes stunning everyone who say you together, then stopped to speak with Theoden before heading back for another nap.
Pt 28
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Note
I know it's a lot! But all of the 65 questions you aren't used to!! I love getting to know the blogs I follow!
Okay love! The last one was a freebie so I guess I’ll just leave that one out haha.
1. Do you ever doubt the existence of others than you?
Na, usually it’s the opposite for me. I don’t feel important enough to be real.
2. On a scale of 1-5, how afraid of the dark are you?
Maybe a 3? I don’t mind the dark as long as my imagination isn’t getting the best of me, which it usually is. I always have my little touch-activated lamp in my room left on at the dimmest setting at night.
3. The person you would never want to meet?
Donald Trump.
4. What is your favorite word?
Drumonios. It’s an Ancient Greek epithet of Artemis, and it means “haunting the woods.” (hey, no one said English word)
5. If you were a type of tree, what would you be?
*in Monty Python voice* THE LARCH
No, but in all seriousness, I’d be a willow. So gentle and comforting, like the tree leaning over to hug you and give you shade.
6. When you looked in the mirror this morning what was the first thing you thought?
Yikes.
7. What shirt are you wearing?
A black shirt with images of moon phases that says “to the moon and back”
8. What do you label yourself as?
Is this a gender/sexual identity question??? Cuz if not I could label myself as anything. But genderwise I’m a cis female and orientation-wise I’m lesbian, biromantic, possibly somewhere on the ace spectrum?
9. Bright room or dark room?
Dark room. Or mostly dark. Dim with a yellowish lamp because I hate white lights.
10. What were you doing at midnight last night?
Talking to my gf on the phone.
11. Favorite age you’ve been so far?
tbh this year, 19. My anxiety’s been better than it ever was. I haven’t been actively suicidal at all this year. I’m just in a better place all around.
12. Who told you they loved you last?
Probably my mom?
13. Your worst enemy?
Myself
14. What is your current desktop picture?
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15. Do you like someone?
Romantically? My girlfriend. In general? Everyone who hasn’t crossed me.
16. The last song you listened to?
Right now I’m listening to LA Devotee by Panic! At The Disco :)
17. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up?
Donald Trump, while he’s in a cabinet meeting so it blows up everyone else there too
18. Who would you really like to just punch in the face?
Donald Trump or my ex
19. If anyone could be your slave for a day, who would it be and what would they have to do?
I don’t really want a slave? Kinda against the whole idea? But ig Thomas Jefferson bc he needs to know what it feels like (Hamilton pettiness coming out oops)
20. What is your best physical attribute? (showing said attribute is optional)
My eyes! Idk if I have a picture that shows them really well? But you can check my selfies tag. They’re deep hazel green with gold flecks.
21. If you were the opposite sex for one day, what would you look like and what would you do?
I would look like historical Alexander Hamilton and I would hang out in history museums freaking people out.
22. Do you have a secret talent? If yes, what is it?
Wouldn’t be a secret if I told you. ;) But seriously, I’m not very private about my talents because I’m proud of them. I write, read, make up codes, solve puzzles, sing, do calligraphy. Sometimes my eyeshadow looks decent.
23. What is one unique thing you’re afraid of?
Most of the unique things are PTSD triggers. The rest of my fears are just normal.
24. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your disposal.
Grilled mac and cheese sandwich.
25. You just found $100! How are you going to spend it?
Put it towards saving up for a Switch so I can get the new Pokemon game when it comes out this fall.
26. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere in the world, but you have to leave immediately. Where are you going to go?
The British Isles, where I will do historical tours and live in the Highlands for a year.
27. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. “Be brand-specific” it says. Man! What are you gonna say about that? Even if you don’t drink booze there’s something you can figure out… so what’s it gonna be?
I don’t drink, I’m pretty against it in part because my uncle’s a recovering alcoholic, but I’d say strawberry daquiris? Idk brands, man.
28. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place?
Socialism and if you’re gonna mess up the process and turn it into communism then you’re off the island.
29. What is your favorite expletive?
Fuckweasel. Thanks, Raven Cycle.
30. Your house is on fire, holy shit! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don’t worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely. So what’s the one thing you’re going to save from that blazing inferno?
My phone I guess?
31. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?
Nothing. As much as I hate what I’ve been through (assault by my ex, manipulation by my dad) it’s taught me so much strength and made me who I am. I know red flags. I came out of my shell. I know how to say no, how to cut out toxic family.
32. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check out this cool shit… you can move to anywhere else in the world!
Scotland.
33. The Celestial Gates Of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn’t think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person/etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back?
FDR. We have a polio vaccine and he was my favorite president.
34. What was your last dream about?
I was doing a crossword puzzle but, like, it never ended. And the clues kept changing every time I started to write the answer. It sucked.
35. Are you a good….[insert anything you’d like here]?
Nothing was inserted haha so yes. I am a good.
36. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital?
Twice. Once as a baby for my open heart surgery, and once when I was 4 for severe dehydration from the flu.
37. Have you ever built a snowman?
Yes but it’s been like 13 years.
38. What is the color of your socks?
Light blue and white stripes.
39. What type of music do you like?
Pop, rock, folk, Celtic, classical, old country, like, Woodie Guthrie, and some new country like Kelsea Ballerini.
40. Do you prefer sunrises or sunsets?
SUNSETS
41. What is your favorite milkshake flavor?
Cherry!
42. What football team do you support? (I will answer in terms of American football as well as soccer)
Um, I guess the OSU Buckeyes cuz that’s where I live and I hate pro football.
43. Do you have any scars?
I have a huge scar down my chest from my heart surgery, a few self harm scars left, and quite a few from old cat scratches. Also my left knee is covered with scars from being a clumsy child. And I have small birthmarks which correlate to past life injuries which is fun
44. What do you want to be when you graduate?
A librarian/history or English teacher
45. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
My weight.
46. Are you reliable?
Sometimes I flake on plans bc of mental illness, but yes. I am a strong shoulder to lean on, and I will always be there for you.
47. If you could ask your future self one question, what would it be?
Am I trying for the right things?
48. Do you hold grudges?
Not consciously. But there are certain things I haven’t been able to forgive just yet.
49. If you could breed two animals together to defy the laws of nature, what new animal would you create?
Sloth dragon. Sloth with little back scales and wings who flies very slowly and breathes fire when threatened.
50. What is the most unusual conversation you’ve ever had?
My mom and I have the funniest conversations. I couldn’t pick one. Every day between us is just hysterical.
51. Are you a good liar?
Yes. But I don’t lie anymore except when I have to.
52. How long could you go without talking?
Probably forever as long as I could write or text.
53. What has been you worst haircut/style?
When I was 9 I decided to get a shoulder length bob. My hair did not approve. Constant white-fro. I don’t have a picture of it full glory, but this is after having it styled, at age 11, as flat as it would go.
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54. Have you ever baked your own cake?
Noooo I suck at baking. I’ve made cookies though.
55. Can you do any accents other than your own?
British, I guess? I do a good Hermione.
56. What do you like on your toast?
Butter lmao I’m classic
57. What is the last thing you drew a picture of?
Uhhh I sketched a flower on my church bulletin last week? Nothing fancy. I don’t draw.
58. What would be you dream car?
‘67 Impala baby.
59. Do you sing in the shower? Or do anything unusual in the shower? Explain.
I, uh give political speeches to the showerhead? It’s the Hamilton mood.
60. Do you believe in aliens?
I definitely believe we can’t live in a universe infinitely big all by ourselves.
61. Do you often read your horoscope?
I don’t read my actual horoscope, but I look at those zodiac posts a lot, and I know my full birth chart.
62. What is your favorite letter of the alphabet?
A and S.
63. Which is cooler: dinosaurs or dragons?
Both. Dinsoaurs could have been dragons, we don’t know.
64. What do you think about babies?
They’re okay til they cry or poop or throw up lmao.
Thanks bb!
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urbanteeth · 5 years
Text
Novel Prep
Thanks to @dimawriting and @maple-writes for tagging me!!
WIP: The Inbetween
Tagging: @drist-n-dither @theforgottencoolkid @minny-santa and uhh anyone else who sees this!
This gets pretty long so I’ll put it under a read more.
First Look
1. Describe your novel in 1-2 sentences (elevator pitch)
The crew members abroad the Perseus Space Station were tasked with investigating the first signs of early human-like civilization on an exoplanet. The truth behind the ruins scattered across the dying planet, however, is stranger, darker, older than anything they ever expected. 
2. How long do you plan for your novel to be? (Is it a novella, single book, book series, etc.)
As of right now, The Inbetween is a single book divided into 5ish parts. The POV will be third person. Still not sure if I want to switch between characters for each chapter or if I want each of the 5 parts told through the perspective of one of the main characters. I am playing with the idea of a sequel. I also want to write about the before and after the events of The Inbetween. There are also at least two AUs running around my mind so I might explore those too.
3. What is your novel’s aesthetic?
Dark skies full of stars, floating weightlessly, lonely planets, geometry, singularity, the smallness of existence, amorphous shadows on the wall, empty corridors, static, flickering lights, hearts racing from adrenaline, the taste of blood in your mouth as you run for your life
4. What other stories inspire your novel?
The Inbetween originated from me wanting to take some of my unused characters beyond them just being characters. The earliest drafts of The Inbetween were short stories inspired by Wolfgun’s music. The story eventually grew into what it is now thanks to a few episodes of Star Trek and Welcome to Nightvale. Lots of the scenes I currently have written were born from daydreaming to Carbon Based Lifeforms’s music. I would say CBL has had the biggest influence on the story.
5. Share 3+ images that give a feel for your novel
This one is for the last part of the book.
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Main Character
6. Who is your protagonist?
There are five protagonists:
Emmett Reyes: Mexican-American, 19 (at the beginning of the story), aro/ace, trans, biologist
Johann Herschel: British-German, 20 (at the beginning of the story), bi, nonbinary, pilot and navigator
Neveen Jalal: Egyptian-American, 19 (at the beginning of the story), lesbian, chemist, starship medic, lowkey inspired by my high school chem teacher
Oliver West: Korean-Canadian, 20 (at the beginning of the story), gay, mechanic
Alternis: A.I., years active unknown, primarily used for security and scouting 
7. Who is their closest ally?
Their closest allies would be each other. Here’s some specific friendships:
Overall: they grow as close as family. Nothing like a near death experience out in the middle of the cold, indifferent void to make five kids bond for life. 
Neveen + Emmett: Nerd friends! With him being a biologist and her becoming a medic, they share a love for the subject. They bond over their love for their cultures. They teach each other words in their native tongues. 
 Johann + Emmett + Oliver: Partners in crime!! These three are as ride or die as you can get with a group of friends. While Johann isn’t always keen on the chaos, he still goes along with it because “who’s going to serve as your guys’s impulse control???” Secretly, he loves it. 
Oliver + Johann: Oliver becomes pretty supportive of all his friends and his relationship with Johann is no different. Oliver makes for a pretty good listener and he doesn’t mind hearing about his friend’s worries. He’ll offer some pretty good advice as well. 
Neveen + Oliver: Oliver is, without a doubt, the most social of all the crew members. Unlike him, however, Neveen is the exact opposite. He will respect her space if she needs it, but he is also there to make sure she doesn’t lose herself in it. In a lot of ways, he reminds Neveen of her own sister.
Emmett + Alternis: These two form a pretty close bond. Both share feelings of becoming static in life. Both struggle with insecurity and general feelings of anxiety that they are not good enough. However, they both also share a deep curiosity for the world around them. She likes to ask him questions knowing he won’t brush them off and he feels comfortable enough to ramble on about whatever subject is most interesting to him knowing that she is willing to listen with interest herself.
Bonus: 
Commander Mitch Connor + his crew: At first, Mitch was pretty hesitant to be this mission’s commander. They’re all kids, two of them fresh out of high school almost. However, he quickly learns that this crew is more than capable. They’re adaptable and fiercely resilient. They know how to use their strengths to their advantage and do so creatively. Most importantly, though, they genuinely care about each other.
8. Who is their enemy?
The story’s main antagonist is a weird hivemind entity that is partially made from various alien life forms and part alien tech. It’s main purpose is to find creatures its programming deems perfect specimens and then merge with (eat???) them to take on their abilities. The creature was once a technologically advanced alien race from a different dimension who sought to create the “perfect being”. No one’s really sure what “perfect being” meant for them, but eventually they, and most of their old universe, were all consumed by their creation. The entity then traveled across many other dimensions still seeking specimens to consume. While it has no definite shape or can even be considered a single animal, it’s still very much sapient. It’s hard to tell the age or if it was supposed to be machine or animal or even what species it originally was. However, the minds and voices of its creators live on with it. 
If you want an idea as to how it sounds, it’s a little like the Warpers from Subnautica but with multiple voices. Here’s a clip. 
9. What do they want more than anything?
They all have different dreams that they are pursuing, but they basically all want a life where they can be happy and have closure.
Emmett wants to be at peace with himself.
Johann wants to find a place that he can call home.
Oliver wants to protect the little he already has.
Neveen wants to achieve her dreams.
Alternis wants to belong.
10. Why can’t they have it?
Emmett is, first of all, much too doubting in himself. He worries so much that he can’t appreciate the things he has done right or the things he can do. He isn’t very kind to himself.
Johann misses the life he had on Earth. He and his family moved to a new planet because they don’t really like Earth and want to experience something new. But Johann never feels the same sense of “home” as he did on Earth. 
Oliver’s job is helping out his mother with their repair shop. So, when the shop is threatened with closure, he is desperate to find another job, but since he dropped out and never finished school, he’s having a really hard time coming up with something that will provide enough. This is why he ends up joining the space program. 
Neveen is in a somewhat similar boat. She has dreams of working as a doctor and all of her time and effort goes into studying for that. She, however, ends up getting rejected from three different schools in her area. She starts to feel like time is somehow running out for her.
Alternis has had a hard time. When she didn’t fit the expectations her creators set, she quickly discovered that her differences were seen as something flawed. She spent a lot of her early days either alone and she grew to be resentful towards people. But she wants to be accepted, so when they told her she was to be assigned to the Perseus Station, she had a lot of mixed feelings about the situation. 
11. What do they wrongly believe about themselves?
Emmett: not smart/good enough, not allowed to make mistakes
Neveen: her success determines her worth, has to do things just right or Else
Oliver: dumb for dropping out of college, is not much other than the comic relief in his friend group
Johann: thinks he can run from facing what’s really bothering him
Alternis: needs to have a purpose to be worth something to others, needs to change to be accepted
12. Draw your protagonist! (Or share a description)
Emmett: 5′2, curly brown hair, brown eyes, tan skin, a scar running from jaw to cheek, there’s a picture @auroradrawing made here!
Neveen: 5′5, long black hair, brown eyes, dark skin, red hijab
Johann: 6′2. dark blond hair, blue eyes, pale skin
Oliver West: 5′10, black hair, brown eyes, pale skin
Alternis:  i made a post on her appearance here
Plot Points
13. What is the internal conflict?
I would say that the overall internal conflict for all the characters is them struggling to understand that they are human which means that they are allowed to be wrong, make bad decisions, have emotions, and fail and none of this undermines their value in any way.
14. What is the external conflict?
The main external conflict is survival. They come into contact with a powerful interdimensional creature who is possibly hundred of thousands of years old or more and they have no idea how to stop it. After their station and only way home gets destroyed and they find themselves stranded with no way to let anyone know what’s happening, they realize that they have to find a way to at least repel the creature as it’s not just their survival at stake, but also that of their friends and family back on Earth.
15. What is the worst thing that could happen to your protagonist?
Death, probably. There’s a lot of things that would be left undone and unsaid and also literally no one else knows what is going on, so it could be a while before anyone back home realizes they’re never coming back. And that thought is one of the scariest things they can imagine.
16. What secret will be revealed that changes the course of the story?
Basically the purpose of the entity and them figuring out what it is and what it wants changes everything they were led to believe at first about the planet and the origin of the ruins.
17. Do you know how it ends?
Yes. They all get a happy ending because I’m done with the sad shit. Also happy endings are good?? Like give me more happy endings dammit! They go through so much shit and get tested so much, like, they deserve their happy ending. 
Bits and Bobs
18. What is the theme? 
You are stronger than you think. Let yourself be flawed. Things might not be okay, but they will work out. You have a place in the universe, no matter how small. Tomorrow is a new day.
19. What is a reoccurring symbol?
Darkness, geometry/symmetry, fire (?),static, lots of the names of things have meaning behind them
20. Where is the story set? (Share a description!)
There are two made up planets on which this story takes place. The first planet is Thesan-4. This planet is a desert-like planet. It’s in the Milky Way for sure, but I haven’t exactly figured out where yet. This planet is primarily used for military/astronaut training. At least 40% of the story will take place here. The other planet is an icy, Earth-like planet. I call this planet the Mirror World in my head but the actual name is pending. Here is where the remains of early civilization are found and this is where the Perseus crew is assign for their mission. At least 60% of the story will take place here.
21. Do you have any images or scenes in your mind already?
Hell yeah! Scenes and a general outline are all I have right now. A lot of the little details are still pretty vague though.
22. What excited you about this story?
Oh man, is “everything” an answer? I always wanted to write a story set in space, but my biggest issue was finding a good plot. Like, I had the characters and I had some vague idea of a setting, but no actual plot or conflict. This story spent a lot of time on the back burner and I honestly thought about abandoning it a few times. However, it has come to grow so much and I’m really happy I didn’t abandon it. I love the lore behind the antagonist and the character interactions and uhhh well damn. Everything!
23. Tell us about your usual writing method!
I think the very first thing I come up with is either the setting or the characters. Then, I make the characters that I feel would go best with the setting or vice versa. Other details like names and stuff come way later. 99% of my writing process is music. If I need a certain mood for a scene, I’ll put on some music that fits and I’ll listen to it a few times before actually writing. I find that this helps me come up with scenes so I don’t really struggle at that. Putting them down on paper is harder lol, especially when I can see at least three different ways to write the opening. But once I start writing, everything flows much easier.
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